Sophia

by D. B. Reynolds

  Cyn threw her leather jacket over a chair, slipped off the shoulder holster and popped the magazine from her Glock before coming close enough to lean into him and wrap her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry about Marco and Preston,” she said. “They were with you a long time.”

  Raphael circled her slender shoulders and pulled her against his chest, taking comfort from her presence. “I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted.

  “I told you,” she teased gently. “Besides, after that last New Mexico trip of yours, I swore I’d never let you leave me behind again. I was miserable the whole time you were gone.”

  Raphael smiled into her sweet-smelling hair and let himself be distracted from the horrible night. “Were you?” he asked.

  She jabbed him in the side. “Like you weren’t. Besides, who will take care of you if I’m not here?”

  “Duncan? Juro, perhaps?”

  “Don’t be obtuse.”

  “Obtuse. I suppose that’s better than your usual epithet.”

  “Which one would that be?”

  Raphael snorted dismissively. “I’m hardly going to provide ammunition for my own execution.”

  “Don’t be a baby.”

  “Hmmm,” he murmured, gliding his hands down over her back to cup her ass. “Not what I had in mind, no.”

  Cyn pressed herself closer, rising up onto her toes to reach his mouth. “How long before sunrise?”

  “More than an hour, sweet Cyn.”

  “We’ll have to hurry then.”

  Raphael laughed, and it felt good. He swept her up in his arms, crossed to the bed in a few strides and dropped her onto its wide expanse. “Clothes, lubimaya,” he said. “Off.”

  “You’re such a romantic,” she murmured as she kicked off her boots, then lay back on the bed to unbutton and unzip her slacks, shimmying them under her sweet ass and down her legs in a way that had his cock growing heavy against his thighs. He tore off his own clothing, tossing it to one side as he watched Cyn tug her sweater over her head, leaving her in nothing but a sheer bra that enticed more than it covered and a matching bit of lace between her legs.

  Raphael eyed that bit of lace and growled as he shed the last of his own clothing, prowling over to the bed and tugging her closer, until her hips rode the very edge. “Off,” he repeated with a snarl. He snapped the two thin bits of satin holding the triangle of lace in place and tossed it over his shoulder. He reached for the bra, but Cyn was already there, freeing her beautiful breasts as he spread her legs around his hips and slipped his hands beneath her ass, holding her open to him.

  “Raphael,” she said breathlessly.

  Scenting her arousal, he plunged into her tight sheath without warning, pushing himself in as deep as he could go. She was ready for him, as he’d known she would be, and she hummed with pleasure as his penetration stretched her open around his cock, her muscles straining against his thickness. She shivered with desire, growing wetter, slicker and hotter, warming his cock, welcoming him home.

  He wanted to fuck her, to slam his cock over and over into the human heat of her until he forgot everything but the sheer sensuous pleasure of her luscious body pulsing around him. Until he was coated in her creamy juices as she screamed his name.

  She looked up, her green eyes narrow and sparking with desire, her gaze never leaving his as she deliberately began caressing her own breasts, cupping them provocatively, squeezing and releasing. She took a nipple between her thumb and fingers, rolling until it was hard and full, and then moved to the other breast. She raised her fingers to her mouth and licked them thoroughly, until they glistened with moisture. Raphael watched, his cock throbbing as he began to move slowly, in and out of her silken body.

  Cyn blinked lazily, rubbing those wet fingers over her breasts, trailing down the flat span of her belly to slip between the plump folds of her sex. Holding herself open, she began to circle her clit, her breath catching as he thrust harder, faster, his arms stretched taut and stiff to either side of her, so he could watch her play with herself, watch her sensitive pearl swell with desire, flushing pink with blood as it responded eagerly to the stimulation of her fingers.

  Cyn’s breath shuddered from her lungs and she leaned back, eyes closed, face gleaming with sweat as she fought her orgasm.

  “Come for me, sweet Cyn. Let me feel you shudder around my cock.”

  She gave a small moan, trembling as she whispered, “Raphael.”

  He stretched forward and took her breast into his mouth, sucking hard, letting his teeth graze along the soft flesh and lapping up the small trickle of blood. Cyn’s breath grew fast and shallow, her fingers tangled in his hair now, holding him close, urging him to grant her other breast the same treatment. He obliged willingly, swirling his tongue over the engorged nipple and sucking hard, biting just enough to release a taste of her succulent blood.

  “Oh, God, God. Raphael, please.”

  “Please what, my Cyn?” he crooned, laving her breast and driving himself deeper into her body, feeling her growing even hotter and slicker with every new thrust.

  Her eyes flashed open, her nails scraping down his back as she nearly screamed her demand. “Raphael!”

  He bit her nipple, eliciting a fresh sob of pleasure as he licked his way between her breasts and over her tender collarbone, closing his teeth on the taut tendons of her shoulder before moving up to rub his lips over the swell of her jugular. He inhaled deeply, smelling the delicious scent of her blood, the tantalizing aroma of her arousal.

  Cyn moaned, tightening her arms around his shoulders, crushing his chest against the hard mounds of her nipples, the heavy fullness of her breasts. Her hips were moving in time with his now, shoving against him, the muscles of her stomach clenching as her womb convulsed, sending tremors rippling along his cock deep inside her.

  He licked her neck one last time, blowing on the wet skin, feeling her shiver. “I love you, my Cyn,” he whispered against her heated flesh. As he sank his teeth into her jugular, her body arched beneath him, the orgasm seizing her hard and tumbling her into ecstasy. She gasped his name, her breath stolen away, tears streaming down her cheeks as pleasure overwhelmed her and she convulsed helplessly in climax.

  Raphael let the sweet flow of her blood fill his mouth and roll down his throat like warm honey, hardening his cock until he groaned with the need to come. He threw his head back and roared as he found his own orgasm, pumping his release deep into his mate’s trembling body, feeling her legs tighten around him, holding him, caressing him, draining him dry.

  Chapter Eight

  Lucien’s words were still with Sophia when she woke the next night, sitting like a weight on her chest. She threw aside the many down-filled blankets, suddenly feeling suffocated instead of warmed by their presence. A small exertion of her will and candles flared, lighting the dreary little dungeon where she’d spent the day.

  She folded the letter carefully, touching the single pink tear staining one corner, evidence of Lucien’s regret. Then, slipping the sheet of paper back into its envelope, she picked up the photograph of three vampires she’d never known and now never would. All three of them were dead, destroyed by human hatred and Lucien’s foolishness. But now his stupidity had reached out to touch others. Dangerous others whom he somehow expected her to placate and what? Save his worthless hide while he hid in safety? Typical Lucien, she thought angrily. Never thinking of anyone but himself—his pleasure, his curiosity, his damnable sexuality.

  Dashing away the remnants of her own tears—not for Lucien, but for the innocent vampires he’d given over to death—Sophia stood, shivering as the cold air hit her bare breasts. She had a momentary flashback of the lovely Aurelio, with his long, sleek body, and then she set it aside. She might enjoy her sensual interludes, but she was at heart a woman of discipline and purpose. Yet another thing she and her Sire had always disagreed upon.

  Taking the few steps to the trap door, she paused long enough to ascertain the emptiness of the room above h
er before pushing upward and climbing into the cottage proper. A quick glance assured her nothing had changed in her absence, that no one had been there while she’d slept defenseless beneath their feet. She shivered again, with an entirely different sort of chill, hating the circumstances which had forced her to be here, hating Lucien for his persistent self-indulgence which would one day get him killed.

  She crossed to the bureau, picked up the old-fashioned telephone and waited for someone to answer. It didn’t take long.

  “My lady?” a smooth male voice responded.

  “I need to speak to Larissa.”

  “Shall I send her, my lady, or—”

  “The phone will be fine.”

  “One moment only.”

  It was more like ten seconds before she heard Larissa’s delicate voice. “Lady Sophia, how may I serve you?”

  “I need to contact Lord Raphael’s office, Larissa. Do you have a number?”

  “Of course, my lady. Do you wish to speak with him personally, or shall I—”

  “No,” Sophia interrupted quickly. “Someone from his staff will do. I just need some information from them.” Possibly the last person she wanted to speak to directly at this point was Raphael. The news she had to deliver was bad. Very bad. Far better to talk to whoever was heading up his Seattle nest these days.

  “Perhaps his lieutenant, Duncan, then?” Larissa prompted her.

  Duncan, Sophia thought glumly. She’d never met either the vampire lord or his lieutenant, but Duncan was reputed to be as powerful as any member of the Vampire Council, excepting only Raphael himself. She snorted softly. Only Raphael could hold a vampire as strong as Duncan as his number two.

  “My lady?” Larissa inquired.

  “Whoever answers the phone will probably suffice, Larissa. Thank you.”

  Sophia hung up the phone and waited, her gaze returning once again to the photograph. It was a casual shot, taken with a personal camera. The three of them sat close together, the woman in the middle with the men’s arms entwined around her in easy affection. The woman was smiling, her head tilted against the shoulder of one male, her hand resting on the thigh of the other. But there was wariness in her eyes as she looked at the camera, a distrustfulness that told Sophia this woman was probably an older vampire, one used to living in the shadows and not quite comfortable having her photo taken. The men had no such reservations, their expressions were wide open and laughing happily, an evening spent among friends.

  Sophia’s heart clenched. Gone. They were all gone. How old had they been, how many years had they walked the earth, and what had they witnessed in those years?

  “Damn you, Lucien,” she whispered again. The phone rang and she snatched it up, wanting to get this over with.

  “Sophia,” a cool, male voice said. “I am Duncan. How may we help you?”

  Sophia froze. Duncan? Why would Raphael’s formidable lieutenant be the one to take her call? She was nobody. Powerful, yes, but nobody knew about her. She’d never been to a Council meeting, had never even been seen at Lucien’s side outside of Canada, and that was decades ago.

  So why would Duncan pick up the phone when she called out of the blue?

  Maybe because Raphael already suspected what Lucien had done, and now Sophia was going to be the one to suffer for it.

  Chapter Nine

  North of Seattle, Washington

  Raphael woke, filled with a cold and deadly intent. Yesterday had been for grieving. Tonight was for vengeance. Cyn stirred slightly beside him, and he looked down at her where she still slept, curled against him. His arm tightened over her hip. He’d exhausted her last night. More correctly, they’d exhausted each other in the ages-old remedy when confronted with the face of death. A reaffirmation of life, even if their joining would never produce anything but mutual joy.

  He leaned over and kissed her softly awake. Her eyes flashed open, a smile lighting their mossy depths even as her expression firmed with purpose. “We have work to do,” she said.

  Raphael grinned viciously. They were well matched, he and his mate.

  “We do,” he said. “The shower is big enough for two.”

  Cyn sat up, running her fingers through her tangled hair, causing her breasts to push forward eagerly. He gave a low growl of appreciation. Her eyes, when she met his gaze, were filled with heat. “I’ve always been a big believer in multi-tasking,” she breathed.

  * * * *

  Raphael found Wei Chen and Loren waiting for him upstairs, deep in conversation with Duncan and Juro. Duncan crossed the room as soon as Raphael and Cyn entered.

  “My lord. Cynthia,” he said in greeting. “We received an unusual request just moments ago. The call was forwarded from Malibu, and I do not believe the caller realizes you are here in Seattle.”

  Raphael gave him an inquiring look.

  “One of Lucien’s children, Sophia . . .” Duncan’s voice trailed off and he shook his head. “Her formal name is quite lengthy, one of those aristocratic, lineage-revealing titles from old Spain. I don’t know that you’ve met her before, my lord. I have not.”

  Raphael frowned thoughtfully, paging back through the thousands of vampires he’d met over his long life, some only briefly, others he’d spent decades or more with. He shook his head. “I don’t cross paths with Lucien that often, other than our annual Council meetings. But his lieutenant is male, so this Sophia holds no formal position with him that I know of. What does she want?”

  “She has requested permission to enter your territory from Vancouver. In point of fact, to journey here to the Seattle area and secure guest privileges at the compound.”

  Duncan turned and beckoned to Juro.

  “I don’t like it,” Cyn said flatly, as Juro joined them.

  All three vampires looked at her with carefully blank faces.

  “Oh, cut the inscrutable vampire crap, you guys. Someone’s killing vamps, and now suddenly this chick shows up from nowhere and wants to drop in for a visit? You don’t find that even slightly suspicious?”

  “More than slightly, I would say,” Duncan agreed. “But knowing what she wants could be helpful, whether she means ill or not. She claims to be on an errand for Lucien, so perhaps they’ve had similar problems in Canada.”

  “When would she like to arrive?” Raphael asked.

  “This evening, my lord. She is already at the border. If we grant permission, she is prepared to cross immediately, which speaks to a certain urgency on her part.”

  Cyn stirred unhappily, but Raphael said, “Let her come, Duncan. Juro, arrange for two of our people to meet her with transportation. I want her here as soon as possible, but she enters alone, on my terms, or not at all. I will guarantee her safety, but no one else’s.”

  Juro nodded. “A team was dispatched as soon as she called, my lord, to save time in the event you granted her passage. I will advise them of your permission and arrange a rendezvous with Sophia.” He pulled out his cell phone and was already punching in a number as he walked away.

  “How long before she arrives?” Raphael asked.

  “I would think an hour or two, my lord. If Sophia crosses the border and meets our team partway . . .” He shrugged. “It’s only the mountain roads that will slow them somewhat.”

  Raphael considered this. Vampires had superior reflexes and far better night sight than humans. The roads wouldn’t slow them much.

  “Very well. When she arrives, I will speak with her myself—”

  Cyn spoke up immediately. “Raphael, what if—”

  He raised a hand to stop the predictable objection. “We will take all necessary precautions, my Cyn.”

  She flushed, but her eyes were full of rebellion when they met his. “Is there coffee around somewhere, Duncan?” she asked, not bothering to hide her irritation.

  Duncan glanced at Raphael before saying, “There is a dining room across the way. Wei Chen houses a full shift of daylight guards on the compound, and there are one or two vampire mates who live
here as well.”

  “Thanks,” she said to Duncan, then shifted her attention to Raphael. “Since I’m not needed here, I’m going to get some caffeine. And then I’d like to ask Wei Chen and others a few questions . . . if that’s all right with you, my lord,” she added sarcastically. And with that, she spun on her heel and left.