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Thank you very much for reading archangels shadows guild hunter. look numerous times for their chosen novels like this archangels shadows guild hunter. Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter Book 7) Kindle Edition Archangel's Viper ( A Novel ebook PDF or Read Online books in PDF, EPUB, and Mobi Format. (c) - page 1 of 8 - Get Instant Access to PDF File: fdfc6c Archangel's Shadows: Guild Hunter Series, Book 7 B01n23qrtt By Nalini.
Angrily hiding a few more knives on her body for good measure, she strode to the front door and yanked it open. Her favorite. Honor had been by every couple of days, alternating with Ransom, Demarco, and Elena. Naasir had filled her freezer with meat before he left for Japan forty-eight hours after the battle.
Saki had stayed for two nights, caught Ashwini up on her parents in Oregon. Janvier used his body to block her. Now, he was openly attached to the Tower, which technically put them on the same side.
As if they had always been meant to be a pair. And that just sucked. Somehow, the term had become more in the years since, an endearment reserved for her. Never did she hear him use it with anyone else.
Today, he stood too close to her on the ride down, his scent a sexy, infuriating bite against her senses. A great big part of her wanted to haul him down to her mouth. Ashwini knew different.
Ashwini knew the truth only because Sara had had it direct from Dmitri, second to the archangel Raphael and the most powerful vampire in the country. The dead morons touched his hunter. She touched his shoulder, felt the warm slickness of fresh blood.
Her stomach roiled. Three bullets in the brain, her aim true thanks to the eerily staccato glimpse she caught in the split second of a muzzle flash, and he stayed down, giving his fellows pause.
Her gun clicked on empty on the final shot. However, when she tried to use the breathing room to slot in a fresh clip, she almost dropped the gun to the floor. It bought them a few more seconds.
He was so sinfully pretty, was Janvier, with his green eyes and dark brown hair that got all coppery under the summer sun. Come on, sugar. A slamming halt as he swung them to a stop on a lower floor, below their pursuers but not home free. It was perfectly timed: Janvier was already racing down the steps, Ashwini once more cradled against his chest.
They rocketed past the first floor and down into the garage. A vampire with hair of metallic silver and eyes of the same startling shade against skin of rich, strokable brown was waiting for them, the door held open.
Shoving it shut behind them, Naasir mangled the opening mechanism by bending part of it with brute strength. As if her body no longer had blood to pump. A chill of bones. A cold whisper in the darkness.
There are those things that should not exist, should not walk, should not breathe, should not be named. There are those nightmares that, once given form, can never be put back into the dreamscape.
Archangel against archangel. Squadrons of angels in the air and troops of vampires on the ground. The being who no longer remembered its name, who no longer knew if it lived or was caught in endless purgatory, had heard the fighting. That war existed on another world, not in the small darkness that was its own. But even as it screamed through a throat cracked and raw, it knew it was making no sound, its chest painful from a lack of air.
Panic had clamped its cruel hand around its throat and now it squeezed, squeezed. Part of who it had once been understood that its mind was broken and would never recover.
That part was a tiny kernel hidden in a distant part of its psyche. The rest of it was clawing horror and fear. Tears rolled down its face, caught in its ravaged throat, but the haunting sense of despair was soon crushed under the suffocating weight of naked fear. Then light hit the eyes that must be its own in an agonizing blindness and its pulse froze. The monster was here. The Guild Director had a job for her.
Iwant you to check it out.
Now go look at the canine mummy. Walking into her bedroom, she pulled curtains of deep citrine across the sliding doors that led out onto her tiny balcony. The block color of the curtains was vibrant against the crisp white walls Ashwini had left untouched, and a vivid contrast to the fuchsia pink of the throw pillows on her bed. The sheets were cream with fine pink stripes, the carpet a pale gold. Texture, color, story, that was what she wanted around her, why she collected pieces others had discarded and gave them new life.
She, too, had once been considered too broken to be of any use. It was no longer raw and red, and it would eventually fade to the pale honey that was the shade of the other, smaller scars on her skin. The memories, however, those would never fade. So Janvier had brought her home, tucked her into her own bed, and made her soup.
From scratch! Who did that? Since she planned on keeping her recovery on track, she picked up the bottle of special oil Saki had given her.
The sweet-smelling oil rubbed in, she wove her hair into a loose braid, then took off her yoga pants to change into winter-appropriate jeans, hunting boots, a mohair turtleneck in vibrant orange over a thin long-sleeved tee designed to retain body heat, and a thermal-lined black leather jacket that hit her at the hip.
She found her gloves stuffed into the pockets of the jacket, so that saved her hunting for them. Deciding to leave in the dangly hoop earrings she was wearing—if the poor dead dog managed to rise up and attack her, it deserved to rip off her earlobes—she began to slot in her weapons.
Knives in arm sheaths as well as one in her left boot, plus a gun in a concealed shoulder holster and another in a visible thigh holster.