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

by Marie Treanor

  He said, “You mean you haven’t?”

  And Mihaela blushed. “God, no. He’d hear every breath.”

  “Then it’s fortunate after all that he isn’t here,” István said and raised his glass to her.

  Mihaela laughed, but Angyalka’s senses were tingling. “Actually,” she murmured, “he is.”

  And Saloman strolled into his drawing room, looking as suave and elegant as ever. He wore a long leather coat over a white silk shirt and black trousers, and his hair was confined in a ponytail.

  Silence filled the room. Suddenly, no one was sure they should be there and feared Saloman really could blow them all through the walls with one breath if he chose.

  Saloman paused, only a couple of feet from Angyalka, looking around him until his gaze fixed on someone.

  Elizabeth moved through the parting crowd, slowly at first as if even she wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. Then she finished in a stumbling little run that brought her straight into Saloman’s arms, her face raised for his kiss, which was unhurried and intimate.

  More than a kiss was exchanged in that moment. If he didn’t know before, Saloman now knew the whole story.

  With one arm still around Elizabeth, he embraced the whole room in one glance. “Welcome,” he said, and his eyes as well as his voice were warm.

  Angyalka could almost see the cold, vicious vampires basking in his approval and gratitude.

  Crafty bastard.

  But she didn’t really see why he should get away with everything.

  “You did it deliberately, didn’t you?” she said.

  Saloman turned to her, both black brows raised.

  She said, “You left her with no protection, just to test us. You even got Dmitriu to pretend congenital deafness.”

  “On the contrary,” Saloman said smoothly, “I left her with your protection and his—and theirs.” He waved his hand around the room, from Mihaela and István to the quiet vampire in the corner. Conversation started back up again.

  “You knew all this would happen?” Elizabeth demanded, low.

  That’s the girl, Angyalka thought in amusement. Make him squirm.

  “I was sure Basilio was plotting something,” Saloman admitted.

  “So you left the country at the same time as Maximilian?” Mihaela accused.

  “Yes,” Saloman said mildly. He didn’t look even remotely ashamed. “I knew I could count on the people here to rally to Elizabeth. And I wanted the world to know that too.” His black eyes glittered. “And now they do.”

  Double crafty bastard, Angyalka told him admiringly.

  Thank you.

  He’d increased his own power and Elizabeth’s protection enormously in one public relations stunt. Very clever indeed.

  “No, there’s more,” Elizabeth said softly, scanning his face. “You didn’t expect everyone. This lot here now you were pretty sure of, but you didn’t expect them all to come out for you. That’s why you had Dmitriu hiding here. Just in case there weren’t enough.”

  For the first time ever, Angyalka saw his gaze drop, although it returned almost immediately to Elizabeth. “They came for you,” he said with rare difficulty.

  Beside Angyalka, István raised his glass to his lips and drank before lowering it again. “I think we can safely assume they came for both of you. What were you saying about secrecy a moment ago, Angyalka? I think we’ve been had.”

  “I never expected Basilio to go after you,” Saloman said, looking directly into István’s eyes. “For that, I apologize unreservedly.”

  “Fuck,” said Mihaela wonderingly, and Elizabeth let out a breath of laughter.

  Saloman’s sculpted lips twitched. He leaned forward and murmured in István’s ear, “Although since it winkled my angel out of her stone, I’m not that sorry. Thank you.”

  Angyalka felt a flush rise up from her toes as Saloman straightened. István took her hand and squeezed it. She saw both Elizabeth and Mihaela watching, and deliberately caressed his fingers in return.

  Saloman, however, appeared still to be focused on István. “And so you discovered the secret of angels?”

  “It is in the word, as you said,” István replied steadily. “Because the word represents ideas in the minds of both speakers and hearers in a peculiarly powerful way. With enchantments, it’s like extra fuel.”

  A smile played around Saloman’s lips. “My people called this ‘fuel’ angel blood.”

  István released Angyalka’s hand to rummage inside his shoulder bag, and brought out Maximilian’s little winged statue.

  “When you look at it, you see both an angel and Angyalka,” Saloman said. “Your mind makes images of both. If you were an enchanter, that would translate into a lot of mind power, because you’d called on the angels themselves.”

  Angyalka blinked. Saloman believed in angels?

  His gaze turned on her, then dropped back to the angel carving. He spoke three soft, unintelligible words, and one more that was her name. For an instant, the statue flashed gold, blinding Angyalka. And behind the flashing light, she imagined she saw two blurred beings. They’d vanished before she had more than an impression of insubstantial wings and stunning beauty.

  Reeling, she clutched István’s hand for support and realized many other heads had turned in their direction.

  “What the…?” she began.

  “There are many forms of existence,” Saloman observed. “And in the last thousand years or so, I’ve particularly enjoyed the idea of a vampire being on the side of the angels.”

  He turned his back on the questions trying to sputter from her lips, then swung back, his gaze scraping across Mihaela and István. “One more thing. Your colleague, Konrad. I know there’s a bond between you. I know Elizabeth shares it. I don’t. If I find him working against me again, I will kill him.”

  When Saloman spoke like that, even vampire blood ran cold.

  “He came back for István,” Mihaela said defiantly. “We almost got through to him.”

  “Almost doesn’t work. Things are moving too fast now. The confrontation tonight was witnessed by neighbors. It will add to existing rumors. And in the lead-up to our child’s birth, I won’t allow anyone to use those rumors against us. Dmitriu is stepping up his search for those already partially aware. They’ll be our foundation of human understanding and, hopefully, our protection. I won’t allow Konrad to get in the way of that.”

  István’s fingers tightened on Angyalka’s.

  “He’s warning you,” Angyalka murmured. “He didn’t need to do that.”

  “I know,” István said, and she could feel his grief as if it were her own. “The trouble is, I can’t use it. It’ll make no difference. I know Konrad, and he’ll carry on regardless.”

  “Carry on with what?” Mihaela asked slowly.

  István shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out. Later.” When he turned his eyes to Angyalka, they were full of heat and sensual promise. Her slow, undead heart began to beat faster all over again.

  “Do you want to go back to the Angel?” he asked in the deep voice that sent butterflies gamboling through her stomach.

  “Oh yes,” she said, and, grabbing him by his shirt, she pulled him to her and kissed him in front of everyone.

  About Marie Treanor

  Marie Treanor lives in Scotland with her eccentric husband and three much-too-smart children. Having grown bored with city life, she resides these days in a picturesque village by the sea where she is lucky enough to enjoy herself avoiding housework and writing sensual stories of paranormal romance and fantasy.

  Marie has published more than twenty ebooks with small presses, (Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Changeling Press and The Wild Rose Press), including a former Kindle bestseller, Killing Joe. Blood on Silk: an Awakened by Blood novel, was her New York debut with NAL.

  Other E-books by Marie Treanor:

  BLOOD GUILT (Blood Hunters, Book 1)

  SERAFINA AND THE SILENT VAMPIRE (Serafina’s, Boo
k 1)

  SMOKE AND MIRRORS (The Gifted, Book 1)

  Available now from NAL Signet Eclipse:

  The Awakened by Blood trilogy:

  BLOOD ON SILK

  BLOOD SIN

  BLOOD ETERNAL

  Available now from Ellora’s Cave:

  The Psychic Seductions trilogy:

  HUNTING KAROLY

  GUITAR MAN

  FREEING AL

  Available now from Samhain Publishing:

  KILLING JOE

  GOTHIC DRAGON

  ARIADNE’S THREAD

  THE DEVIL AND VIA

  QUEEN’S GAMBIT

  REQUIEM FOR RAB

  Fairytale Fantasies (with Bonnie Dee):

  CINDERELLA UNMASKED

  DEMON LOVER

  AWAKENING BEAUTY

  SEX AND THE SINGLE PRINCESS

  Available now from Changeling Press

  Tales of the Damned:

  CITY OF THE DAMNED

  Christmas Cookies: CHRISTMAS OF THE DAMNED

  Santa’s Helpers: DAMNED SANTA

  DRAGUL RISING

  ROGUE WARRIORS

  Jack o’ Lanterns: WITCH OF ALLOWAY

  ESCAPE: Devilish Fantasy

  Hot Flash: SWAN SONG

  Big, Blooming and Wild! WILLOW THE WISP

  Heat Stroke: COOL POOL

  STEAMY NIGHTS

  DEMON’S KISS

  WOLF HUNT

  Holiday Howlz: CRY FOR THE MOON

  Available now from The Wild Rose Press:

  MAGIC MAN

  GHOST UNLAID

  Have you read the first in the Blood Hunters series, Blood Guilt? Please enjoy the prologue and first chapter…

  BLOOD GUILT: Blood Hunters, Book 1 By MARIE TREANOR

  A sequel to the Awakened by Blood trilogy

  Ebook $2.99, Out Now from Amazon and Barnes & Noble

  Natural enemies, deadly attraction...

  Mihaela, a fearless vampire hunter secretly haunted by loneliness and childhood tragedy, finds it difficult to adjust to the new world order where vampires are not always the bad guys. She’s taking a much needed vacation in Scotland when she sees a little boy being chased through the streets of Edinburgh. Rescuing him brings bigger problems - two vampires from her past: Gavril, who killed her family; and the reclusive and troubled Maximilian, gifted Renaissance artist and one-time overlord of the most powerful undead community in the world. Maximilian once saved her life and now needs that favor returned.

  The earth moves for Mihaela in more ways than one. From Scotland to Budapest and Malta, she races against time to prevent a disastrous, vampire-induced earthquake and save an innocent yet powerful child – all while fighting a dreadful attraction to Maximilian, her only ally, whom she can’t afford to trust. For Maximilian, the hunter becomes a symbol of renewed existence, as he struggles to accept his past and rediscovers his appetite for blood and sex - and maybe even happiness.

  Prologue

  The vampire stood silhouetted against her bedroom window.

  Quicker than thought, Mihaela grabbed her stakes and leapt off the bed, poised to defend and kill, just as she was trained to. Her heart hammering in her breast, she faced the intruder: tall; slender; untidy dark hair falling forward over cheekbones that looked sharp enough to cut. Maximilian.

  His lips parted, revealing his fangs as he walked toward her through the pale shaft of moonlight. He wore jeans and a faded black tank that clung to his lethal body. Mihaela plunged both stakes together from different angles, to give herself more chance of piercing his heart. Although she didn’t even see his arms move, both weapons were torn from her fingers and hurled onto the carpet.

  The vampire reached for her, not to kill, bizarrely, but to take hold of the neck of her nightshirt and rip.

  Time slowed and stilled. Naked, she stood in front of him, and they stared at each other.

  Christ, he was gorgeous. Like a punk fallen angel, with all the beauty of youth and the sheer, powerful sex appeal that can only come with age. Six centuries of age. Even other vampires didn’t trust Maximilian. Everyone hated him. He was beyond the pale. Perhaps that was why she’d always felt this ridiculous attraction she’d never, ever admit to.

  She lashed out at him with her bare hands, but he caught her fists easily, jerking her against him. Her struggles were useless, his strength too great. She felt his erection between her thighs and gasped at the surge of excitement enveloping her whole body. It was wrong, deeply, utterly wrong, and yet when he bared his fangs and bent to her neck, she couldn’t prevent the yearning, the dreadful, naked lust.

  He pushed against her, and she fell backward onto the bed, helpless under his weight, panting with as much arousal as fear.

  He lay between her legs. His mouth nuzzled her throat, and she was appalled by how good it felt. Then, without even speaking a word, he pushed into her body and bit into her vein, and she fell immediately into orgasm…

  ****

  Mihaela sat up with a cry. Her heart thundered. Sweat trickled down her forehead and between her breasts. Between her damp thighs lurked the ache of pleasure and frustration. But at least her room was empty and the window closed. And her chaste T-shirt still clung undamaged to her body.

  With shaking fingers, she pushed her hair back from her hot face and lay down on the pillow.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d dreamed of the vampire Maximilian since he’d saved her life so casually. She just prayed it was the last.

  Chapter One

  In the gathering dusk of the winter afternoon, a small child weaved among the tourists and shoppers of Edinburgh’s Royal Mile with curiously adult intent. He wore a bright green anorak, and his untidy, sticking-up hair was a distinctive, almost white blond, even in the uncertain streetlight. Watching from the window of the cozy coffee shop, Mihaela remembered him. She was sure he was the same boy she’d noticed earlier in Prince’s Street. It hadn’t been clear then which of the scuttling adults he belonged to, although it had crossed Mihaela’s mind that the answer was none of them.

  Frowning over her coffee as the boy darted between car headlights and dodged two large shopping bags, only to bolt through a gap between buildings, Mihaela again received the same impression. She supposed that he must live nearby. Still, he couldn’t have been more than six, and to Mihaela it was criminal to let so young a child roam the city streets, in potential danger from speeding traffic and every passing stranger. Especially in the dark.

  She pulled herself up—after all, she was in Edinburgh on holiday to relax, not to save the world that could get along perfectly well without her interference—and gave a self-deprecating smile into her cup as she finished the last of her coffee. She tried not to wrinkle her nose, but British addiction to Nescafé or its several clones was a taste she could not share. Still, the brew had been warming against the northern December chill, and she liked the novelty of hanging around in cafés without discussing work or debriefing informants. She liked just watching the people go by on the ancient, cobbled street, huddled against the icy wind while she luxuriated in warmth inside.

  She had nothing to worry about, she reminded herself as she rose and pulled on her hooded sheepskin jacket. Or at least nothing that couldn’t wait until she left Scotland to face the music of home. She so needed these two weeks of real, normal life to get her head straight. So far, she’d had three days. And the damp, insidious charm of Scotland seemed to be working. She felt more relaxed than she had in months.

  “Pardon me, miss, are you local?” a man’s voice asked from the next table.

  Mihaela paused in the act of picking up her bag and glanced over her shoulder. The speaker was American by his accent, somewhere in his thirties, maybe, and good-looking enough to turn heads. And he was smiling at her.

  “No,” she answered, distantly from habit. “I’m just visiting.”

  “Me too. I’m trying to find the Writers’ Museum, and this map just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  Mihaela
glanced downward at the crumpled map open on his table and couldn’t help smiling. It had been stuffed into pockets and folded so often that much of the detail had worn away.

  “I passed a sign for it, further up that way,” she offered.

  “Have you been there?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “I’m going to try and make it tomorrow.” He smiled at her again as he crushed the poor, abused map back into his pocket. “I hope you don’t mind my saying, I love your accent. Where are you from?”

  “Romania.”

  “I’m from Chicago in the US. You enjoying Scotland?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  He smiled and rose to his feet. “Me too. Amazing country. Anyway,” he added as they edged their way together to the door, “maybe we’ll run into each other again. Maybe even at the Writers’ Museum.”

  Mihaela cast him a quick glance of appraisal. He was casually dressed in a thick sweater and windcheater, perhaps a tourist, perhaps a businessman relaxing after some deal or other. Whatever his story, his blue eyes were bright and hopeful, and she sensed a fellow lonely spirit. And the possibility of holiday romance. Flattering, intriguing—and quite novel for Mihaela, who’d known little but one-night stands with total bastards.

  She let her lips tug upward. “Maybe. If either of us can find it.”

  His rather charming laughter ushered her out the door into the dark, biting cold. Smiling, because she just might be tempted to come back to Edinburgh tomorrow, she turned to say good-bye—and caught sight of the fair child again, darting out between buildings and rushing down the road.

  Frowning, Mihaela followed his progress with her eyes. In the thicker darkness, he looked tiny and unspeakably vulnerable, his fair head bobbing and glinting under the streetlights. Another movement caught her attention—two adult male figures emerging from between the same buildings and setting off at a run in the same direction as the child.