Blood of Angels (Book 2 of the Blood Hunters Series)

by Marie Treanor

  Half appalled by what she’d just said, she forced herself to smile, to raise the bottle to her lips in careless defiance. His dark, oh so desirable eyes followed her every move. And then he surprised her again.

  “How do you manage to feed?” he asked curiously. “By breaking your own rules?”

  “How wounding,” she mocked. “I never bite the guests. It would be rude and a bad example.” She laid down the beer bottle. “I do, however, taste the odd member of my human staff. Especially the ones I fire or who choose to leave. They never remember.”

  “Is that enough?” István asked doubtfully. Part of him, she could see, was stunned he could ask such questions so casually. As a hunter, he’d spent most of his adult life preventing any vampire he could find drinking from any human at all. She was corrupting him already. The thought both pleased and embittered her. Too confusing. Concentrate on the sex.

  “No,” she said brazenly. “Béla brings me snacks to my window and takes them away again.”

  His breath hitched. She didn’t know if it was laughter or disgust. Perhaps he didn’t either.

  “Is Béla your lover?” he asked unexpectedly.

  Although it might have been fun to tease him, Béla was too important to be used as a tool in her flirtations. She shook her head. “Béla works for me. He’s an old friend.”

  “You’re very comfortable together. He’s a strong vampire.”

  Was that jealousy in his eyes after all? He’d watched them dance, seen the party tricks.

  She said, “You have an instrument that measures vampire strength now?”

  “No, but it’s an interesting idea. I just saw the efficient way he cleared up your troublemakers last night. He didn’t even take a hit.” His warm hand closed over hers on the beer bottle, and sensation zinged through her fingers and up her arm. “And yet he’s younger than you.”

  “Actually, he’s older.”

  He seemed to take that in, almost as if he understood how unusual that was, for the younger vampire to be the dominant one. Perhaps he did. He was known in the vampire community as the hunter who studied them. It made him incomprehensible and therefore dangerous to the undead. A smile formed on his lips.

  “Aranyi was little more than a fledgling when he turned you. You didn’t get your strength from him. It must be in this building. Or in your name.”

  Angyalka smiled, deliberately moving her hand under his in an undulating caress. “Must it?”

  “Is it a secret?” he asked.

  “It must be, if you don’t know the answer.”

  “What other secrets are you keeping?”

  “What else do you want to know?” she countered.

  “Why you’re flirting with me when you could have your pick of incalculably stronger vampires.”

  She twisted her hand out from under his and trailed one finger along the length of his thumb. “Maybe strength isn’t everything.”

  “This from the being who counts Maximilian, Zoltán, and even Saloman himself among her lovers? Three vampire overlords.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Something changed in his eyes that she couldn’t quite read. “You mean it isn’t true?”

  “I mean you don’t get to ask me questions about my lovers yet.”

  “Yet?” he pounced. “Then when do I get to ask?”

  She smiled and sat back in the sofa. “When you are one.”

  Again his breath hitched. She took pity on him and laid her hand on his thigh. Immediately, it thrust upward into her hand, as if caressing.

  She said low, “Maybe I just like you. Maybe we have unfinished business.”

  He leaned back with her, turning so that he loomed over her, and everything in her leapt to meet him. “Maybe we do,” he whispered and kissed her mouth.

  Oh yes, she liked the hunter’s kisses, hot and sweet, tender and strong, taking as well as giving. There was very little submissive about István; he always followed his own path… And this one she was very willing to walk with him.

  Take the pleasure, exorcise the obsession. She couldn’t lose.

  “We could dance,” he murmured against her lips.

  “We’ve danced with our clothes on already. I’d rather dance in bed.”

  He groaned softly. “Do you have any idea what you do to me when you say these things?” He fell on her mouth again, his kiss deepening, opening her wide for his onslaught.

  She laid her hand on his straining crotch. The heat of the blood pulsing there overwhelmed her.

  “Some,” she admitted when he paused for breath. “The bar will take care of itself for an hour. Come.”

  “I want more than an hour.”

  “Now you’re talking like a vampire.” Of course, he was human. He really wasn’t up to more than an hour with her, but she liked to hear him say it. It fed her arousal beyond what was bearable, and she loved that feeling.

  She stood, and he rose with her, let her lead him by the hand across the floor and behind the bar.

  He leaned into her, his breath stirring her ear. “Don’t you mind that everyone can see us hand in hand? That they know you’re taking a hunter to your bed?”

  Oh I am. I’m taking this hunter to bed. At last…

  Chapter Nine

  It was only in the café lights that Konrad recognized the woman Andrea as one of last night’s party guests. As he’d left, she’d been talking to István at the kitchen door. And now she’d followed him here, and he didn’t even know it. Dangerously like stalking, in Konrad’s opinion. But possibly useful.

  “Yes, I work with István and Mihaela,” he answered her question over coffee. “István has infiltrated a gang of criminals who hang out in an unlicensed nightclub at the top of that building.”

  “My God,” she whispered, eyes dilating. “Is he safe?”

  “Tonight, probably. After that, I don’t know.” When his own part in last night’s bombing was discovered, it was more than possible none of the hunters would be safe. He was sorry for that, although it was his genuine hope that the hunters would kill all undead attackers who came against them.

  “When our cover’s blown,” Konrad said, “we’ll both be useless.”

  “Is that likely to happen?” She wasn’t drinking her coffee, just stared at him while he sipped his own.

  “Frankly, yes.” He laid down his cup. “Which is why I’m warning you to stay away from there. From István, in fact. He isn’t safe to be around right now.”

  Her eyes widened impossibly. “But he’ll be all right? You guys have backup, don’t you?”

  “Not much,” Konrad improvised. “We don’t have that luxury.”

  “That seems criminal to me!” Andrea exclaimed.

  Konrad shrugged. “Part of the job.”

  Blindly, Andrea reached for her cup. Her eyes began to shine, caught up in the adventure and romance that was a thousand miles from her boring life. He hoped.

  She said, “Is there nothing I can do to help?”

  “Not now.” He hesitated, then delved inside his jacket for a card and a pen. “Look, don’t follow István anymore. That’s just too dangerous. Instead, give me your number, and if we need a new face to finish things off, I’ll call you.”

  “Will you tell István this?” she asked breathlessly.

  Konrad shook his head. “No, not yet. He won’t countenance a friend being used in this way. But we’ll tell him later and trust me, he’ll be grateful.”

  Shortly after, he left her in the café and went back to find the disused sewer tunnel to which he’d followed the young vampire yesterday—the one he’d paid to plant the bomb. He needed to kill him before Saloman or one of the stronger vampires got to him and read his mind. Konrad wasn’t yet ready for a full-scale vampire vendetta against him. He needed to gather his troops.

  Unfortunately, the vampire detector in his pocket remained quiet, and the dank, stinking tunnel appeared to be empty. Until he shone his torch onto the stone bench and saw the dust there
had been shaped into a large letter “S”.

  Konrad’s blood ran cold. Either his stupid vampire had developed enough brain since last night to try to freak him out, or Saloman had been here already, killed the vampire, and formed his dust into this message.

  On the whole, Konrad rather thought the latter.

  He’d wanted to shake up the vampires, kill as many as possible, and break their alliance with the hunters. But he hadn’t planned on starting the full-scale war for several days, not until he was ready with backup. They should have been panicking about his devastating attack, which, for some reason, hadn’t been as devastating as it should.

  He searched as far through the filthy tunnel as he could bear, before giving up. But there was no sign of any of his leftover explosives.

  ****

  “No one’s paying us any attention,” Angyalka assured him. “I’m masking us. Although it doesn’t matter—they’ll know soon enough anyway.”

  “How…?” he began.

  “Don’t you ever stop asking questions?” Angyalka interrupted. They were in the staff room, where a human waitress sat, drinking coffee and thumbing through a magazine. She ignored them, as Angyalka ignored her, seizing István’s face between her hands and kissing his mouth, letting her fangs graze his lips, his tongue. His arms closed around her, as if of their own volition, and, still kissing, she edged him away toward the elevator.

  As the doors closed, she felt his hand on the zipper at the back of her dress. His hands eased the silk off her shoulders, and it fell as far as her elbows. She broke the kiss, stepping back to let the dress droop, revealing her naked breasts.

  István stared at her, speechless. His Adam’s apple wobbled as he swallowed. Since his eyes seemed riveted to her breasts, she shook the dress the rest of the way off and stood completely naked, apart from a black silk thong, stockings, and boots.

  Oh yes, he liked that. His hot, sweeping gaze was like an all-over caress, warming her skin, her blood.

  As if he didn’t even know he was speaking aloud, he whispered, “Fuck. Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

  She couldn’t doubt he meant it. Undeath had brought her beauty, or at least knowledge that she possessed some. After a couple of hundred years, she accepted the fact, even used it. Yet the words were still good to hear. From him, they thrilled her.

  The elevator door opened onto her apartment hallway. He lifted one hand and palmed her breast, cupping and slowly caressing. She’d been right. He did have sensitive, giving hands. She closed her eyes as the pleasure streamed from her hardening, eager nipple through her whole body to her core.

  When she opened her eyes again, his gaze had lifted from her breast to her face. Still caressing with his fingers, he lowered his open mouth to hers and kissed her with blatant, aching sensuality. His free hand closed on her naked back, drawing her closer into his body. His jeans, his jacket and T-shirt rubbed against her sensitized skin. She wanted them gone, yet it was exciting too, to be almost naked in the clothed arms of the hunter. It lent him an illusion of dominance. Perhaps that was why he lingered so long when the rock-hard erection he ground against her spoke of far greater urgency.

  Again it was she who edged him out of the elevator, kicking her dress out as she went. And then she simply led him through the living room to the bedroom, where she stepped out of her boots and switched on the bedside lamp while he shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on the floor.

  She wanted to see every inch of him. But before she could turn, his arms went around her from behind, much more sensually than the first time they’d met, yet the reminder was unmistakable, especially when he drew her back against him, thrusting his covered erection against her naked bottom, and placed his hand over her heart.

  Oh yes, this was what had begun it for her, the weird combination of anger and helplessness and sweet, surging desire. She wasn’t helpless now, of course. There was no stake. But it was enough to fire her blood, to twist her face up to his, to silently command and plead for his kiss.

  He gave it, willingly. His hand shifted and the other came to join it, covering both breasts as he kissed. His thumbs caressed her nipples, over and over until she moaned into his mouth and pressed back harder against him. One of his hands slid down over her stomach, caressing its way down to the juncture of her thighs. Although his knee slid between her legs to part them, there was no need. She wanted his hand exactly where he put it, holding her, cupping her at the point of her pulsing, aching need. The wet, wispy silk of her thong wasn’t much of a barrier.

  His mouth loosened at last. “Are vampires like human women there?” he asked unsteadily. “Is that wetness for me?”

  She tried to laugh. “Who else would it be for, idiot?”

  “You’re my first vampire,” he countered. “For all I know, it could signify boredom or even anger.”

  “Scared?” she taunted, twisting around in his arms and pressing her breasts against his hard, muscled chest.

  “No.”

  From his expression as well as his voice, he meant it. Thrilled all over again, she smiled and caressed his body with hers, hooking one leg over his hip to fit the steely bulge of his erection between her thighs. His hand swept up over her silk stocking to the skin above, and he groaned.

  “I’m not bored,” she whispered. “Or angry. I want you. In here.” She thrust against him, and he pushed back until they fell together onto the bed.

  His full weight lay along the entire length of her body, heavy and wonderful, pinning her to the bed as he slanted his mouth across hers and kissed her with a new, wild passion that had her writhing beneath him. As he tore off her thong, there was little sign of the quiet, self-contained hunter. He was just a man, a hugely desirable human man with an out-of-control lust for her.

  She closed her arms around his hard body, sweeping her hands up under his T-shirt to feel his hot, smooth skin.

  “Take off your clothes,” she said huskily against his lips, tugging the T-shirt up. He smiled, brushing his mouth over hers while he caught at her tearing hands and drew them up above her head.

  “In a moment,” he said and went back to kissing her mouth. She loved his kisses, but she wanted so much more and wasn’t prepared to play the teasing game for much longer. Somewhere she was aware of him transferring both of her hands to one of his, still above her head on the pillow, while with his free hand he seemed to be delving into his trousers pocket. She found herself smiling as she kissed and pushed against him. Was he searching for a condom? Did he really imagine that was necessary with her? No life, neither disease nor baby, could pass between them, whatever had happened to Elizabeth. Saloman was Ancient and broke all the rules.

  István began to move with less subtlety, dragging his body up and down hers so that his raging erection stroked and tempted between her legs, still infuriatingly covered by his jeans and the zipper she’d already pulled down once tonight. It looked like she’d have to repeat herself, because she was damned if she’d wait any longer.

  She tugged one hand free of his hold. Or at least she tried to.

  It should have been easy, for she was undoubtedly stronger than he, but at the first flex of her muscles, something tightened against her wrist—both wrists. There was a faint whirring, a weird sort of multiple caress around her wrists, and when she tried to pull harder, nothing happened.

  István released her mouth and raised his head.

  “What…?” she began.

  “I’ve tied your hands.” He shifted position, kneeling between her legs and running avid, clouded eyes over her body spread out like a sacrificial offering.

  Angyalka laughed. “István, I’m a vampire. I’ll break the bed if I want to be free.”

  “No, you won’t. You’re not tied to the bed but to the stone wall behind. By the gadget that can haul several grown men safely up the side of a tall building. It will take you a long time to break free.”

  Her heart began to beat faster. There was doubt and anger in there somewhere, bu
t also a dark, insidious excitement.

  “Why?” she demanded. “What are you going to do?” Dear God, had she been as wrong as this? Was he going to kill her?

  “I’m going to make love to you,” he said, trailing both hands over her breasts, tracing a path down her stomach to the juncture of her legs. “As you want me to.”

  Her heart was beating so fast now she could almost have been human. The stolen blood surged through her veins, flushing her body with the heat of desire—and anger that spilled over because he’d immobilized her again.

  She laughed in his face. “You don’t imagine I really want you, do you, hunter? You’re my supper.”

  “You may want my blood,” he allowed, stroking all the way down her right leg to her foot, rolling off her stocking as he went. His touch burned, paralyzed her with sheer lust. And yet she was so mad, she wanted to kill him, kill him during sex—oh yes…

  The whirring came again, holding her ankle this time in that strange, binding caress. Too late, she realized that in her daze of desire, bafflement, and fury, she’d forgotten she could hurt with her lower limbs. And now it was too late for that too. He’d deliberately distracted her. She lashed out with her left foot, but before it could connect, it was yanked back by his rope.

  She knew without him telling her that the claws of his gadget were deep in the reinforced concrete floor she’d installed for extra security.

  Now, for as long as it took her to pull free, she really was helpless. As helpless as she’d once been as a human girl in a cruel human world. Fresh fear surged, and yet, staring at István as he knelt over her, so did desire.

  He rolled her other stocking down as far as her ankle, and then he straightened. Her mouth dried as he pulled his T-shirt up and over his head. Muscles rippled up his arms and shoulders. Once again she was the helpless captive of this hunter, this gorgeous, beautiful man. Wild, insidious excitement blotted out the fear. She actually tugged at her bonds in a totally instinctive movement to stroke his broad, enticing chest. And that was while furious with him. She was damned if she’d admit her desire.