Which brought her back to Pascal. “Anyway, he seemed harmless at first, but as in every good horror movie, first impressions aren’t always accurate. I’d swear he was pushing at me on the drive back here.”
That made Raphael stop what he was doing and turn to face her. “Pushing how?” he demanded.
“With his power, whatever you guys call it. I could feel this pressure in my head. It was only a faint ghost of what you can do, but . . .” She drew a breath and let it out, knowing she didn’t have any evidence other than her strong belief in Pascal’s ill will. “It was Pascal, Raphael. I know it.”
He studied her a moment, a deep frown darkening his expression. “I’ll talk to Juro and Jared tomorrow.”
“You probably think I’m being paranoid or—”
“No,” he said immediately, stepping over to her and resting one hand on her arm as the other caressed her cheek. “I trust your instincts, my Cyn. If you say something’s wrong with him, then I want to know what it is.”
Cyn rested her hands on either side of his waist. He was mostly undressed by now, with nothing left but his dark slacks which hung unbuttoned and half-unzipped, barely clinging to his narrow hips. “I tried to find some history on him,” she said, letting him see her concern as she looked up at him. “I spent all evening online, checking in with every board I know of, every database. Nobody has ever heard of him.”
“He could be newly turned,” Raphael said thoughtfully.
“But that’s not what he said,” she reminded him. “He claimed to have been living in the Midwest under Klemens. So, how come no one’s ever heard of him?”
“I’ll reach out to Aden and have his people check into it. More likely, he’s given us a false name.”
Cyn stepped even closer. “Do you think he’s a spy?” she asked softly, even though there was no way anyone could overhear their conversation.
“Very possibly. I told you we’ve expected our enemies to make a move. This could be it.”
“But what’s his game? Is he supposed to—”
“Cyn,” Raphael said, stopping her with a brush of his fingers over her lips. “Juro is on top of this, and so is Jared. And if they fail to discern Pascal’s true motives, I have every confidence in my own humble abilities—”
It was Cyn’s turn to interrupt with a scoffing huff of air. “There’s not a humble bone in your body. But, don’t you want to know—”
“This is what I know, lubimaya. It’s late, and if war is upon us, I want to make love to my beloved mate one more time before the end.”
“Don’t say that,” Cyn whispered. “Not even as a joke. No one’s going to be ending.”
“Make love to me anyway.”
She forced herself to smile against the chill his words had induced.
“Any time, fang boy,” she murmured and moved into his embrace, her hand sliding over his flat belly, into the invitation of his half-open pants. She found him hard and ready as her fingers circled his length, as she stroked slowly up and down, appreciating the size and breadth of him, the velvet thickness of his skin, the steel shaft beneath. Her breath caught as his cock jerked eagerly against the palm of her hand.
Raphael’s breath was a caress against her skin as he grasped the two sides of her blouse and ripped it open, his strong fingers making short work of the delicate clasp on her bra.
“Cyn,” his voice rumbled against her ear.
She looked up and his mouth came down on hers, his fingers tangling in her hair as he held her in place, his tongue delving deep into her mouth, sweeping over her gums, caressing her tongue. Her lips were crushed against his to the point of pain, but she didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to lose the warm pressure of his mouth, the sharp points of his fangs. She thrust her tongue into his mouth in turn, seeking out his fangs, stroking their hard lengths even as she continued to massage his cock, her fingers playing up and down its length, squeezing and releasing until he was thrusting against her hand.
Raphael’s fist tightened suddenly against the back of her head, twisting her hair over his fingers as he pulled her head back sharply. She cried out as the movement scraped the point of one fang over her lip, tearing the delicate skin to release a trickle of blood. Cyn felt the warm, liquid flow, felt Raphael’s body stiffen in reaction, his tongue sweeping out to gather in every last drop, his throat working as he swallowed it with a hungry growl.
“Cyn,” he repeated, warning her this time.
“But I like touching—”
That was all she managed to say before she found herself picked up bodily and tossed onto their big bed. She laughed as she flew through the air and bounced on the thick mattress. Then she laid back and watched appreciatively as Raphael stripped out of his trousers and underwear—something he only wore with dress slacks—shoving them down his legs with a single impatient gesture before he stalked across the room toward the bed. Cyn’s laughter fell away, her breath trapped in her lungs as she took in the magnificence of a fully naked, and fully aroused, Raphael. He was over six feet of pure, masculine beauty. Broad shoulders with sleek layers of defined muscle, a well-formed chest and a pack of abs that was closer to eight than six. His belly was flat, his hips narrow, and . . . well, everything else was the stuff of an artist’s dream.
Raphael watched her watching him, a smug smile curving his sensuous lips as he crawled up onto the bed with all the grace of the lethal predator he was. It was at times like this that Cyn was reminded forcefully that her lover was something other than human. No human could possess such beauty and lethality in one perfect package.
Mine, mine, mine, she thought to herself.
“Yours,” Raphael agreed, and she realized she’d spoken out loud.
Still on all fours, bracketing her body with his arms and legs, Raphael dipped his head to her breast, his teeth closing over an erect nipple before he sucked her breast into his warm, wet mouth. Her back bowed upward, offering him better access, as her fingers scraped through his thick, short hair and over the back of his neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist and groaned as she realized she was still wearing almost all of her clothes.
“Raphael,” she complained fitfully.
He lifted his head, grinning at her frustration, then without warning, he slid down her body and began stripping away her jeans, ripping open the button and sliding down the zipper. Cyn struggled out of the remains of her blouse and bra, as Raphael hooked his thumbs into her jeans and pulled them over her hips, catching the narrow band of her panties as he stripped them down her legs and over her bare feet.
He slowed once she was completely naked, sitting back on his heels, running his big hands over her calves, stroking up to catch her knees and bend them toward her chest, pressing her thighs up and open, licking his lips in blatant appreciation.
Cyn’s breath caught in her throat when his eyes took on the silvery glow of his power, his gaze spearing her through a fan of thick, black lashes.
“Mine,” he growled, in conscious imitation of her earlier claiming. His fangs slid out from between lips she knew were deceptively soft, and Cyn’s mouth went dry.
“Raphael,” she whispered, and then her head fell back and all she could do was breathe as he bent over and put his mouth to her thigh, as his fangs sliced through the soft skin and pierced the big vein in her leg. Cyn gasped as the euphoric in his bite rushed into her bloodstream, as her blood grew heated and every nerve ending lit up like Christmas on steroids. She cried out when her clit came to glorious life, going from aroused to oh-my-god-I’m-coming in a single, thumping heartbeat. She tried to slam her thighs together, instinct ordering her to protect her throbbing clit from anymore stimulation, but Raphael wouldn’t let her. His hands held her wide open as his lips caressed her thigh around his fangs. She could feel the pull of his bite, the strong working of his throat as he swallowed her blood.
She thrust her hips upward, unconsciously seeking a cock to fill her empty pussy as the o
rgasm rolled on and on, skimming over her skin like an electrical pulse, tightening nipples on swollen breasts, setting every nerve to trembling until she thought she’d fly apart, her body overwhelmed by too many sensations, too much pleasure for one woman to bear.
Distantly, she was aware of Raphael’s fangs pulling out of her thigh, of the rough scrape of his tongue as he sealed the puncture wounds.
“Sweet, my Cyn,” he rumbled in his midnight voice. His breath was hot against her pussy as he leaned forward and drew his tongue through the soaking wet lips of her sex, tasting the juices of her arousal. “Even sweeter,” he murmured. And then without warning, his hips were pushing her thighs wide as he slammed his cock deep into her body, forcing her sheath to accommodate him, her inner muscles trembling, stroking him with a thousand fingers, pulling him in and squeezing him tightly, rippling all along his length.
Cyn bit back a groan of pleasure, sighing out a breath instead, as her arms came around his broad shoulders and her legs wrapped around his hips. She could feel the flexing of his tight butt as he thrust in and out, moving in a steady, pounding rhythm.
His mouth went to her neck and she thought he’d bite her again, but he kissed her instead, licking and tasting his way to her lips where he took her mouth in a hungry kiss. She tasted her juices on his tongue, her blood on his lips, and she shivered with desire, with sheer lust.
“Raphael,” she whispered, wanting to tell him so much. How much she loved him, how he filled her life with light and energy, how much more of everything she was because he loved her. But she couldn’t say any of that, couldn’t come up with words beautiful enough to convey the depth of emotion he deserved. So, she just whispered his name and held him close, feeling the fire burn hotter and hotter between them as her sheath tightened around his cock, rippling along his length, pumping him until his release flooded her body with heat, and they roared over the edge together.
Chapter Three
“IS IT TRUE WHAT I’ve heard?” Pascal asked casually. He was on routine patrol with a young vamp named Riley. Young, not necessarily in years, since Riley had been turned about the same time as Pascal. But in terms of experience, they were worlds apart. Riley was so naïve that Pascal was almost embarrassed for the kid.
“Is what true?” the kid asked absently. His attention was only half on their conversation at best. He’d made it clear to Pascal that he didn’t think it was appropriate to chat while they patrolled. It was nearly impossible for Pascal not to talk, however. It was a flaw he’d accepted about himself long ago. He was who he was. Others could accept him as-is, or move on. He generally didn’t care either way.
Unfortunately, his current assignment forced him to restrain his freedom-loving ways in favor of accomplishing his task. And that meant getting the inside scoop on Raphael’s household, especially one specific part of his household.
“Is it true that Raphael’s got his own sister locked up around here somewhere?”
Riley glanced at him, but didn’t say anything.
“That used to be her house where we’re all living, right?” Pascal persisted. “I mean, that’s what I heard.”
“You’ve heard a lot of stuff.”
“Hey, I’m just making conversation.”
Riley snorted, his position on that clear, and Pascal forced down a snarl of anger. Self-righteous little prick. He’d hoped to gather as much intel as possible without using his talent. Every use of his ability increased his exposure and heightened the likelihood that he’d get caught. But he hadn’t counted on getting shut down quite this quickly.
“So, the sister’s dead?” Pascal asked, being intentionally provocative.
“Look,” Riley said, swinging around to face Pascal. “I don’t know about you—” His words shut down as Pascal directed a sharp probe into his brain, taking over with far less finesse than he usually employed. Riley winced in pain, which gave Pascal a warm feeling of satisfaction. The kid should have been nicer to him.
“Tell me what you know about Alexandra,” he ordered. He felt the kid trying to rebel and tightened his control, even as he marveled at the strength of the loyalty Raphael’s vamps all seemed to feel toward their master. “Tell me now,” he demanded.
Riley’s jaw unclenched slowly. “She’s in a special prison, below the garages near the main house.”
“What about guards?”
“It rotates. No one works that detail for more than a month. She’s a bitch, but a beautiful one, and she can be sweet when it suits her. Lord Raphael doesn’t want anyone getting too attached.”
“You’ve worked the detail then?”
“We all have.”
“Who decides the rotation?”
“Jared,” Riley said, as if it was obvious.
“Excellent. You’ve been very helpful. Now forget that we had this conversation.”
Riley staggered slightly then blinked as he looked around. He cast a guilty look at Pascal, as if he was afraid he’d flaked out on the job, and was checking to see if Pascal had noticed. Pascal gave him a bland smile in return.
“We turn back here,” the kid said gruffly.
“Our route doesn’t include the main house?” Pascal asked as if they’d never stopped, but had kept walking all this time. Although he really didn’t care where the damn route went since it didn’t include Alexandra’s prison.
“No,” Riley responded, unaware of Pascal’s disregard. “That’s a separate rotation.”
“Good thing,” Pascal said cheerfully. “This is a big fucking estate.”
They turned and started back along the gravel paths toward the mansion turned guard barracks. For once, Pascal’s emotions weren’t faked. He really was cheered by this first night’s work. He’d proven he could suborn Jared, which would be especially critical given what he’d just learned from Riley. And then there was Riley himself. One never knew when the rank and file would come in handy.
He grinned. All in all, an excellent beginning.
CYN WAS SITTING in the alcove next to Raphael’s desk, tucked into one end of the big overstuffed couch with a warm, woolen throw pulled over her legs while she worked on her laptop. The fireplace was lit and she wore her most comfortable clothes: sweats and a short t-shirt, UGG boots on her feet. The night outside was cold and wet, a storm churning its way toward the California coast. Down below the cliffs, the ocean was raging; it rattled the windows and shook the floor every once in a while when a big wave hit, and she loved it. Loved working safe and warm with Raphael nearby, while the ocean thundered below.
Her task tonight was nothing she hadn’t done before, tracking down an old friend for a vampire. The difference this time was that the job was gratis—because her client was Raphael—and the friend was apparently a vampire who was even older than he was. Raphael didn’t want her to locate the vamp herself, though. He said it was because he didn’t think the old vampire would be wired into the system in any way that that would make him easy to find. Although, as far as Cyn was concerned, that made the job more attractive, not less, a challenge instead the same old thing.
But that didn’t matter since the real reason Raphael didn’t want her doing it was because finding the vamp would have meant Cyn going out into the field, and Raphael wasn’t having any of that. Especially since the most likely place to find the old vampire was down in the wilds of Mexico, somewhere totally off the grid. Raphael didn’t even like her traveling to the territories of friends and allies like Lucas or Rajmund, much less to Mexico. That entire country was still very much controlled by Enrique, who was no friend to Raphael. Or anyone else that Cyn could tell.
Since she couldn’t go herself, Cyn was left with nothing to do but screen private investigators who would and could take on the assignment for Raphael. His lawyers, Kimiko and Boyd Lorick, would handle the actual transaction part of the deal, although Raphael wasn’t requesting anonymity this time around. He wanted the P.I. to know who was hiring him or her in this case, sin
ce Raphael had suggested a woman would be better for the task he had in mind. Cyn had no problem with that. In fact, whenever possible, she preferred to use female P.I.’s. Sort of the female version of the old boy network. This time around, she was recommending a woman she’d worked with in the past, a bounty hunter named Lana Arnold. Not only was she proficient at tracking down criminals but she was also skilled at tracing missing persons.
Cyn’s only job would be providing Kimiko and Boyd with Lana’s contact info. Pretty boring stuff. She scowled at her computer screen then looked up, transferring her scowl to Raphael who was unfortunately too engrossed in his own work to notice. She sighed and leaned back to stare at the black night beyond the windows. She didn’t want to jinx anything, so she kept the thought to herself, but she wouldn’t mind a little adventure for a change.
“Sire.”
Cyn twisted around as Juro strode through the open double doors to the hallway, his entire demeanor conveying urgency and purpose.
“You’ll want to see this, my lord,” he continued, walking up to Raphael’s desk and holding out an iPad.
Cyn winced and fought back a pang of guilt. Jinx. She knew it!
Raphael glanced silently at the iPad Juro held out then hit a few keys on his keyboard, apparently bringing up whatever it was on his own computer.
“Cyn,” he said, turning to give her a meaningful look.
Cyn threw off the blanket covering her legs and hurried over to his desk, frowning when she saw that he’d pulled up video feed from one of the estate security cameras. It looked like one of the holding cells below the garage, except . . . Her eyes widened when she realized what she was looking at. This wasn’t any old cell, this was Alexandra’s cell. Alexandra was Raphael’s blood sister. She’d been taken and made vampire on the same night that he was, albeit by a different master. Raphael hadn’t known about her, had thought she was truly dead until more than 300 years later. Once he’d discovered the truth, he’d rescued Alexandra from her abusive master and pampered her like a princess for centuries, only to have her turn on him when he fell in love with Cyn. Apparently, Alexandra wanted to be the only woman in Raphael’s life, which was kind of sick, when you thought about it. She’d conspired to get rid of Cyn by turning her over to Jabril, an enemy vampire lord who’d planned to torture Raphael by raping and eventually killing his lover.
The Cyn & Raphael Novellas Page 21
