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  PRAISE FOR THE GUILD HUNTER NOVELS OF NALINI SINGH

  "Paranormal romance doesn't get better than this."

  --Love Vampires

  "Intense, vivid, and sexually charged."

  --Publishers Weekly (starred review) "[A] remarkable urban fantasy series."

  --RT Book Reviews (Top Pick) "World-building that blew my socks off."

  --Meljean Brook, New York Times bestselling author "[A] heart-pounding, action-packed story line of love and loss; death and destruction; family and friends; intrigue and suspense."

  --The Reading Cafe

  "It's dark and edgy, and so atmospheric."

  --Book Chick City

  "Mesmerizing . . . Fascinating world-building."

  --Bitten by Books

  "The Guild Hunter series is not set in a peaceful world and Singh doesn't pull any punches."

  --The Book Pushers

  "Completely awe-inspiring."

  --Fallen Angel Reviews

  "Stunning, original, beautiful, intriguing, and mesmerizing."

  --Errant Dreams Reviews

  "[Ms. Singh] has a knack for writing characters that are truly believable, and admirably strong and resilient."

  --Dark Faerie Tales

  "One of the most immersive and consistently creative works in urban fantasy."

  --Grave Tells

  "A fabulous addition to the paranormal world."

  --Fresh Fiction

  "[A] powerful, riveting novel. I found myself wholly absorbed."

  --Dear Author

  "Dark, lush urban fantasy, steeped in violence and power."

  --HeroesandHeartbreakers.com

  Berkley titles by Nalini Singh

  Psy-Changeling Series

  SLAVE TO SENSATION

  VISIONS OF HEAT

  CARESSED BY ICE

  MINE TO POSSESS

  HOSTAGE TO PLEASURE

  BRANDED BY FIRE

  BLAZE OF MEMORY

  BONDS OF JUSTICE

  PLAY OF PASSION

  KISS OF SNOW

  TANGLE OF NEED

  HEART OF OBSIDIAN

  SHIELD OF WINTER

  SHARDS OF HOPE

  ALLEGIANCE OF HONOR

  Guild Hunter Series

  ANGELS' BLOOD

  ARCHANGEL'S KISS

  ARCHANGEL'S CONSORT

  ARCHANGEL'S BLADE

  ARCHANGEL'S STORM

  ARCHANGEL'S LEGION

  ARCHANGEL'S SHADOWS

  ARCHANGEL'S ENIGMA

  ARCHANGEL'S HEART

  Anthologies

  AN ENCHANTED SEASON

  (with Maggie Shayne, Erin McCarthy, and Jean Johnson)

  THE MAGICAL CHRISTMAS CAT

  (with Lora Leigh, Erin McCarthy, and Linda Winstead Jones)

  MUST LOVE HELLHOUNDS

  (with Charlaine Harris, Ilona Andrews, and Meljean Brook)

  BURNING UP

  (with Angela Knight, Virginia Kantra, and Meljean Brook)

  ANGELS OF DARKNESS

  (with Ilona Andrews, Meljean Brook, and Sharon Shinn)

  ANGELS' FLIGHT

  WILD INVITATION

  NIGHT SHIFT

  (with Ilona Andrews, Lisa Shearin, and Milla Vane)

  WILD EMBRACE

  Specials

  ANGELS' PAWN

  ANGELS' DANCE

  DECLARATION OF COURTSHIP

  TEXTURE OF INTIMACY

  WHISPER OF SIN

  SECRETS AT MIDNIGHT

  BERKLEY

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  Copyright (c) 2016 by Nalini Singh Excerpt from Wild Embrace by Nalini Singh copyright (c) 2016 by Nalini Singh Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY is a registered trademark and the B colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  eBook ISBN: 9780451488015

  First Edition: November 2016

  Cover illustration by Tony Mauro

  Cover design by George Long

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Contents

  Praise for the Guild Hunter Novels of Nalini Singh

  Berkley titles by Nalini Singh

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Hide

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Bloodlust

  Author's Note

  Excerpt from the Wild Embrace Anthology

  About the Author

  Hide

  She was tired.

  Not old in years. Just tired. While her vocation called to her as powerfully as it had always done, the reality was a relentless workload that offered little time for the life of study and reflection that she craved.

  But this was the life the Lord wished for her and so this was the life she would live.

  The worn black fabric of her habit brushed the wooden floor as she walked down the aisle, checking the pews for items left behind by the faithful. Father Pierre was getting on in years so, though he always offered to close up the church, Constance was the one who did it every night. At least she didn't have to deal with the homeless. Her closest friend in the order, Maria, who was in a house of worship in a more derelict part of town, often had to nudge out those unfortunates.

  It made her question her faith on a daily basis.

  "Should we not provide sanctuary, Sister Constance?" she'd ask when they gathered at the order's simple house for their late dinner meal. "And yet I must push them out into the dark and the cold because, elsewise, they defile the church. Why, the other day, I found a vampire feeding from a drug-addled young man right out in the open."

  Constance had no answers for Maria, but she'd volunteered to take charge of that church next year, to help balance the load. For they must all do their duty.

  Ah, it looked like someone had left behind a coat.

  They would surely return for it, she thought as she moved down the pew.

  Then the coat moved. Heart thumping, she stopped . . . and rea
lized that while the pale blue fabric was of a coat, that coat was on a person. A small person. A child.

  Close enough now to see the peacefully sleeping child's golden-skinned face and soft hair so pale it was almost white, she looked down and saw the child wore a dress of soft pink broderie anglaise. The stockings on her little legs were white with blue butterflies along the sides, her shoes a shiny black.

  This was a child who was loved, who'd been dressed with care.

  A little bag sat next to her, printed with the image of a storybook princess.

  Constance whispered a prayer and looked around in case she had somehow missed one of the faithful, but no, she was alone in the church but for this beautiful child, who couldn't have been more than five years of age. Not knowing quite what to do but aware she couldn't let the child sleep on the hard wood of the pew, she bent to lift her into her arms.

  The child awoke. "Maman?"

  It was a hopeful word but the little girl's lower lip trembled.

  Constance replied in the same tongue. It was not her own, but she'd lived for many years in this land of corner bakeries and stylishly dressed people and hidden avenues cloaked in darkness. "Your mother is not here yet." She held out a hand. "Come, we will go have hot chocolate and cookies while we wait for her."

  "I have toys," the child said, picking up the princess bag before slipping her tiny hand into Constance's with the sweet trust of a being who had never been hurt, who knew only love. As she walked the child to the back room, where she and Father Pierre often did the paperwork of an afternoon, she caught sight of a stark white envelope in the child's coat pocket.

  She didn't reach for it until her small guest had taken off her coat and was happily eating a cookie, Constance having made her a hot chocolate in a chipped but pretty red cup she thought a child would like.

  The envelope proved to be the size of a photograph. That was what lay within it, along with a letter written in a lovely hand:

  To the sister and the father who care for this church--you don't know me, but you were so kind to me when I first arrived in this distant land that was not my home but that became my sanctuary.

  I know your souls are full of light.

  Please watch over my Marguerite and keep this photograph of us together for her. I will return for her within the week. She is the very beat of my heart. If I don't return . . . then I am dead and Marguerite is an orphan. Call her that if the worst happens, but please, please do not ever say that she was abandoned. Do not ever let her believe anything but that she was my greatest treasure.

  The only reason I won't return for her is if there is no life left in my body. Even then, you must never allow her to become suspicious and search for the truth--that way lies only horror and death. I would have my baby live her life free of the shadow of fear.

  Tell her I love her.

  The child looked at Constance with eyes of silvery gray, a smudge of chocolate on the edge of her lips. "Will Maman be here soon?"

  Constance swallowed, touched trembling fingers to that hair so delicately pretty. "Your mother loves you very much."

  And the child smiled, as if that was a simple fact of life.

  1

  Two years had passed.

  Two years since Alexander woke.

  Two years since the last confirmed sighting of Zhou Lijuan.

  Two years since Illium threatened to burn up in a catastrophic explosion of power.

  Two years while the Cascade seemed to hit Pause.

  Elena was fucking over waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  "Come on already," she muttered up at the sky, Manhattan a toy borough hundreds of feet below the edge of the railing-free Tower balcony on which she stood.

  "Speaking to your ancestors, Elena-mine?" The voice came from behind her, familiar and imbued with a power so violently deep that the mere sound of it engendered fear in the hearts of mortals and immortals alike.

  It made Elena's own heart ache, the love she felt for her archangel a painful, terrifying thing in these times of uncertainty. If she lost him . . . No, she couldn't think that way. Even if that damn other shoe was still smirking at her, just waiting to thunk down on top of her head when she least expected it.

  "Whoever or whatever it is that controls the Cascade, that's who I'm talking to." She leaned back into Raphael. The position trapped her wings in between, but with Raphael, she could be vulnerable, she could be weaponless, and still be safe. Not that she wasn't armed to the teeth, but that was habit and none of it would ever be turned against Raphael except when they sparred--or when he pushed her buttons a little too hard.

  Her archangel hadn't quite got the hang of the fact he wasn't lord and master over his consort. He tried but a thousand-five-hundred-years-plus of power had a way of messing with his attempts at seeing his once-mortal lover as an equal when it came to their personal relationship.

  Elena cut him some slack every so often. "Some" being the operative word.

  Today, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, his jaw brushing her hair as the two of them looked out over their city from their vantage point on the cloud-piercing form of Archangel Tower. New York. Brash and messy and noisy and full of color and energy and life. So much life. Elena could hear it on the busy streets far, far below, sense it with every beat of her heart, taste it in the myriad scents that clashed and fought and yet somehow made their peace.

  Her blood hummed in awareness.

  "I have news," Raphael murmured. "It may inject a little excitement into your currently mundane life."

  Elena snorted. "I don't need any more excitement. I just need the damn Cascade off Pause so we can get it done." Her hand twitched to go for the lightweight crossbow strapped to her thigh.

  Unfortunately, she didn't have anyone or anything to shoot at right now.

  Raphael's chuckle vibrated against her. "You sound a little tense, Consort."

  Elena would've elbowed him if her wings hadn't been in the way. "Why are you in such a good mood?" The past two years had been as tautly tense for him as they'd been for her. All the archangels had stayed within the borders of their own territories--but for a few secret trips here and there--in preparation for further Cascade madness.

  Only the unpredictable worldwide phenomenon that caused dangerous power fluctuations in the archangels as well as some angels, along with tumult across the earth in the form of storms, quakes, and floods, seemed to have decided it was finished. But of course, they all knew it wasn't. Not by a long shot. Even Elena could feel the thunderous portent in the air, just hanging there, waiting to unleash itself.

  "My good mood is because something has at last broken the stalemate of the past two years."

  "I'm not going to like this, am I?" Elena said darkly.

  "Such a suspicious mind."

  "Yes. It keeps me alive." She watched an angel with wings of an astonishing, haunting blue edged with silver rise up over a skyscraper in the distance, Illium's physical strength back to what it should be for his age and development. There had been no other vicious and possibly deadly surges that threatened to tear his body apart from the inside out.

  Even better, he was laughing again, was once more the playful angel who'd become her first friend in this immortal world. "Bluebell's about to do a dive," she predicted from the way Illium was soaring up into the crystalline sky.

  And then he was turning and falling, a sleek bullet whose laughter she could almost hear.

  "I bet you he's planning to go low enough to freak out the pedestrians." New Yorkers were used to angels in their city, turned up their noses at the tourists who gawped up at the sky, but angelic acrobatics could still make them jump. Especially acrobatics done by an angel as fast and as quick to maneuver as Illium.

  "That is no bet," Raphael answered. "He's been playing such tricks as long as I've known him."

  And Raphael, Elena thought, had known Illium since the other angel was a child.

  She reached up to close her hands ove
r the arms he'd wrapped around her. Illium meant a great deal to her archangel; that was a truth most people didn't comprehend. All of Raphael's Seven meant far more to him than simply the positions they filled in his Tower or in his Refuge stronghold.

  They weren't just his most trusted warriors--the Seven were family.

  Rubbing his jaw against her temple in a silent response to her touch, he said, "We are about to leave New York."

  Elena blinked; she couldn't have been more surprised if he'd told her he wanted her to strip naked then and there and start chanting to invisible sky gods. "What happened to batten down the hatches and watch for an attack? All our enemies are still out there."

  "The Cadre has been called to meet."

  Rubbing at her face, Elena turned and took a step back so she could face Raphael, her wings a familiar weight at her back and the wind tugging lightly at her feathers as if in invitation for flight. The almost cruel masculine beauty of his face hit her hard, as it sometimes did when she looked at him after glancing away. All clean lines and skin brushed with finest gold, he had eyes so shatteringly blue they had no equal on this earth, his hair a black beyond midnight and his lips shaped with a sensuality that hinted at passion and power both, wings of white gold arching over his shoulders.

  Already, he'd been magnificent, but the Legion mark on his right temple--the violent, vivid blue and hidden white fire of it shaped like the primal manifestation of a dragon--added a wildness to his beauty that made him beyond beautiful, beyond magnificent. He was Raphael, Archangel of New York, and the man she loved so much that sometimes she couldn't breathe from the force of it.

  And he loved her.

  That truth she could never doubt, no matter if, at times, he crossed lines in their relationship that made her threaten to pull out a blade. Even if the Cascade messed with everything else, this one thing no one and nothing could ever mess up.

  Lifting his hand, he cupped her cheek, brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. "Your eyes are even more luminous today."

  Elena scowled. "I don't want luminous eyes," she said. "I want normal gray eyes that let me blend in, not silver eyes that make it obvious I'm an immortal."

  Raphael's lips curved. "A pity about the wings then."

  "Ha ha." Putting her hands on her hips, she turned her head to press a kiss to his palm before facing him once more. "Which one of the archangels called for the meet?" It would tell her which ones were likely to go--and which ones would be salivating at the opportunity to attack other territories while the archangels to whom those territories belonged were occupied elsewhere.

  "None."

  The single word fell like a gunshot between them.

  Shaking her head, Elena reached up to tuck back a strand of hair that had whipped across her face. She'd left the near-white stuff unbound today since she wasn't on a hunt and had been planning to hang out close to the Tower and the Legion skyscraper.