Rajmund

by D. B. Reynolds

  The music was still playing, but what little conversation there had been was now silenced as everyone, human and vampire alike, held their collective breath, waiting to see what would happen next. Sarah looked around quickly, wondering if she should be worried. But Raphael's security seemed unconcerned—or at least no more concerned than they'd been all night—and Cyn was leaning casually against Raphael's side.

  She turned her gaze back to the new arrival and realized there were no fangs in that devastating smile. None of the vamps were flashing visible fang. Probably some sort of protocol thing, like not bringing your guns to the peace table.

  Raj stopped just short of Raphael's security and gave the massive Juro a grin that managed to be both friendly and challenging at the same time. The pressure against Sarah's chest increased and she began to wonder if she'd survive the greeting portion of the night, much less whatever came after. Juro didn't react, other than to stand aside, while Raj took a single step forward and bowed slightly. “My lord."

  "Rajmund,” Raphael acknowledged.

  Obviously, vampires didn't waste words, Sarah thought, somewhat irritated and wondering how much longer this would take. Her new shoes were spectacular and the four inch heels did wonders for her legs, but they were never intended for standing around like this.

  "This way, my lord,” Rajmund said easily, as if continuing some silent conversation. And maybe he was. She'd heard rumors of vamp telepathic abilities, but hadn't had a chance to ask Cyn about it. For that matter, she wasn't sure her friend would have told her even if she'd asked. There were some things Cyn volunteered and others, well . . . Sarah could understand that. Cyn's first loyalty was to Raphael, after all.

  "And who is this?"

  Sarah looked up and found her gaze neatly captured by a pair of icy blue eyes. A frisson of energy sparked as every nerve in her body suddenly woke up and began to hum happily. She forced herself to move, to offer a handshake. She felt the strength of his fingers as they wrapped around hers, dwarfing her hand. He was not just tall, but big. His shoulders, his upper arms and chest were massive, tapering to narrow hips and muscular thighs and . . . oh my. Sarah had always liked big men. Of course, most men were big compared to her, but she liked big men, the kind who gave off heat, a coiled energy that warned they could spring into action at any moment. There was an air of contained violence to such men, an alpha male arrogance that said they could meet all comers and take every one of them. This, she told herself, was a vampire. Suddenly she understood what Cyn had been talking about, what it felt like to have all that power and energy focused on only you.

  He smiled—a slow, lazy smile that sucked away in a millisecond the little bit of air left in her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath and trying not to show it. Something in his eyes told her he knew it anyway, and she was suddenly struck by vivid images of naked bodies in a darkened room. But, no. He'd leave the lights on, so those icy eyes could drink in every tremor of her body as she writhed. Jesus, Sarah, get a grip!

  Her eyes flashed to his face, and she realized she'd been staring like an idiot when he said in a rich, unhurried voice, “Rajmund Gregor. Raj, to my friends.” His words were deep and resonant, starting way down in his diaphragm and making the long journey up through that wonderful chest to her ears.

  His eyes glinted with humor and Sarah bit her lips against the urge to get even closer to him, to feel that big body wrapped . . . What was wrong with her? She swallowed hard and managed a presentable smile. “I'm Cyn's friend, Sarah Stratton,” she said, and cursed her pale skin as a blush heated her cheeks.

  Raj only laughed cheerfully and placed his huge hand at the small of her back. “Let's get you seated, sweetheart,” he said, propelling her across the floor in Raphael's wake. A vamp Sarah didn't recognize went ahead and held yet another door open for them. Juro disappeared inside this new room briefly, then reappeared and nodded.

  The room was clearly reserved for very private parties. It was furnished much like the VIP lounge they'd crossed through, but the leather was softer, the tables burnished steel rather than chrome, and the glass tops thicker and polished to a gleaming finish. Raphael and Cyn strolled over to the largest of the banquette-like sofas—an open curve of black leather against the wall, with a low glass coffee table sitting in front of it. They settled next to each other, while Duncan took a leather barrel chair facing Raphael across the table. Sarah sat on the other side of Cyn, studiously ignoring the wicked grin Raj sent her way, promising a dangerous evening ahead. She tucked herself against the soft leather and pretended to care about the decor.

  The space was small enough that it felt warm and intimate, rather than isolated—a feeling that was enhanced by the wall of glass facing the VIP lounge. Sarah remembered seeing it as a black, lacquered wall from the lounge side. From in here, however, it was a slightly opaque glass providing a clear view of everything going on in the larger room. Speakers suddenly came to life, bringing in sound, the music and the buzz of voices as the club guests—human and vampire—resumed their interrupted festivities.

  A full bar lined one wall and Sarah saw row upon row of the finest labels of various alcoholic beverages, many of which she recognized from her parents’ wet bar. Of course, that was long ago, before the dreams . . . and what came afterward. She forced the memory aside, focusing instead on the sterling silver champagne bucket waiting on the polished mahogany counter, with what looked like a nicely chilled bottle of Krug Grande Cuvee. She could already feel the bubbles against her tongue. But, wait. Did vampires drink? Other than blood, that is.

  Raj was still standing, one hand resting on the back of the sofa. “We have a full bar here, my lord,” Raj said, answering her unvoiced question. “Danny—” He gestured at the vamp who'd opened the door for them. He was tall and slender, smoothly handsome, with a mocha complexion and an elaborate tattoo that wound around his neck before disappearing into his shirt. He nodded when Raj said his name, smiling at her with the assurance of a man who knew women found him attractive.

  "Danny,” Raj continued, “can get anything you'd like. If it's not in here, we certainly carry it at the main bar. And, of course, there's blood available in whatever form you prefer.” He caught Sarah's eye when he said that, holding her gaze for a moment before letting his eyes travel along her body like a warm caress, over her breasts and down her bare legs to her high, high heels and back up again. She shuddered slightly under the impact of his inspection and he smiled confidently. Danny wasn't the only vampire in the room who knew women liked him.

  Sarah resisted the urge to tug her skirt down and wondered absently if vampires ran in packs—like all of Raj's vampires were lady killers, while all of Raphael's were the strong, silent type, like he was. Of course, Raphael's people were in hostile territory, so that was probably part of it. But Raj just seemed younger somehow, more carefree. Raphael carried an air of tremendous authority, a confidence that no one would ever dare cross him. She didn't think anyone would ever cross Raj either, but it was because he looked damned dangerous.

  She saw Raphael whisper something in Cyn's ear. Her friend sighed in annoyance, but she stood, pulling Sarah up with her. “Come on, Sarah,” she said, scooting around the glass table. “We womenfolk have been banished to the bar while the big bads discuss serious business."

  Sarah glanced at Raphael, but his attention was on Cyn, his eyes shining silver, his lips curved into a gentle smile. “Thank you, lubimaya,” he said.

  Cyn blew out a dismissive breath, but grinned at him before dragging Sarah over to the bar where a glass of delicious champagne was waiting with her name on it.

  Raj watched the two women as they crossed the floor and climbed up onto the high bar stools. He had to admit Raphael's woman, Cynthia, was stunning. But she was like an exotic animal, something wild and lovely and totally unpredictable. He had a feeling she'd be a hellion in bed, but a lot of work out of it. Too much work for Raj's taste.

  Her friend Sarah, on the other hand, was something
else. It was obvious she felt outclassed by the strikingly beautiful Cynthia, but that was a shame, because she was a lovely woman in her own right. If she were to walk through the room outside that door, the eye of every vampire would follow each tiny movement of that tight little ass. She was shorter than Cyn, maybe five-foot-four without those heels, but half of that was legs and the rest was all lush curves. She'd covered her breasts with the red silk of her dress, but she filled it out nicely. Nicely enough that he already knew what it would taste like when he put his mouth on those firm nipples he could see pressing against the straining fabric. She scooted back on the bar stool, tossing her long blond hair over one shoulder and crossing her legs with a hiss of smooth skin. Raj felt himself growing hard in anticipation.

  "Rajmund."

  Raj blinked back into instant attention. “My lord.” He sat on the leather sofa, twisting slightly to face the vampire lord. Duncan nudged the low table aside and moved his chair closer, so the three of them could converse.

  "You wanted a meeting,” Raphael said.

  Raj studied him silently for a moment. His next words could very possibly condemn him if Raphael was his enemy. Raj had power, enough to defeat his own master when and if he decided to take that step. But he had no illusions about his ability to defeat Raphael, and he couldn't be certain where the vampire lord stood when it came to his fellow council members. On the other hand, Raj trusted Duncan—insofar as he trusted any vampire who wasn't of his own making. And Duncan had encouraged this conversation.

  "You were at the council meeting last fall, my lord,” Raj said to Raphael. “You saw that Lord Krystof is . . . not what he once was. He weakens and the entire Northeast weakens with him. Already vampires are siring their own children without permission, building private fiefdoms within the territory."

  Raphael frowned. “I hadn't known it was that bad."

  "But you knew something was wrong."

  "I suspected."

  Raj sighed inwardly. Conversation among powerful vampires was like swimming through mud; there was no clear path and too many unseen hazards. Every word became a weapon, and what was left unsaid often conveyed far more than what was said. On the other hand, boldness was a virtue. “Time runs out, my lord. Even for vampires. I need to know if you intend to remain neutral, as you have in the South."

  "And why would I not?"

  "Because Krystof did you a favor once."

  "Did he?"

  "Krystof has told me, my lord, of how you arrived in this country, how you came to his court and he permitted you to travel through to the West Coast to establish your own territory."

  Raphael's black gaze focused sharply on Raj. He bared his teeth in a slow smile, seeming genuinely amused, but there was nothing friendly about it. “Do you really believe he could have stopped me, Rajmund?"

  Raj swallowed his irritation, sorting his own truth from his master's fantasies. “No,” he answered evenly. “No, my lord, but Krystof believes it, and he might call upon you if he felt threatened. I wondered if you might have a lingering fondness for him that would respond."

  "My interest is in stability. If Krystof is unable to maintain his territory, it endangers us all."

  Raj nodded, figuring that was the best answer he was going to get. He was surprised when Raphael kept talking.

  "I have long felt there should be more cooperation among the territories,” he said calmly, crossing his legs and smoothing away invisible wrinkles. “It occurs to me that you and I have much in common."

  "My lord?"

  "A certain outlook, Rajmund. A practical approach to doing business.” He met Raj's gaze directly. “Should the occasion ever arise, I believe it would benefit us both, and the Vampire population at large, if we were to . . . consult in the future."

  Jesus Christ, Raphael was not only giving his tacit approval for Raj to overthrow Krystof, he was proposing a fucking alliance. With Raj ruling the Northeast and Raphael the entire West, they would go a long way toward controlling the Vampire population of North America. The other council lords would scream bloody murder if they knew. The lords never cooperated in anything; it made doing business with each other almost impossible. But if he and Raphael—

  "What do you think of the South?” Raphael continued casually, as if he hadn't just dropped a political bomb in Raj's lap.

  "It's hot and sticky,” Raj said, grinning, “But I doubt that's what you had in mind."

  Raphael gave a bare smile.

  "I was surprised when Anthony seized control,” Raj continued, in a more serious vein. “I thought he was content with New Orleans."

  "He was,” Duncan confirmed. “Jabril let him run New Orleans however he wanted, as long as he paid tribute. But then the hurricane wiped out half of his holdings and more than half of his people."

  "That many?” Raj said in surprise.

  "At least,” Duncan said, nodding. “He's being very cagey about the specific numbers, but it's no secret he wouldn't have gone for the territory otherwise."

  Raj frowned thoughtfully. “I don't know Anthony that well, but I wouldn't have judged him to have the juice to hold the territory for long."

  Raphael shrugged. “Anthony required certain assistance, particularly with regard to Jabril's rather convoluted finances. One of my own, Jaclyn, is quite skilled in such matters and is remaining in the South for the time being.

  Raj kept his expression blank as he glanced between Duncan and Raphael, surprised again by the bluntness of their conversation. Raphael had all but said outright that Anthony was only able to hold his territory because of Raphael's backing. Was this meant to be proof of Raphael's new policy of cooperation?

  "As you said, my lord,” Raj said finally, nodding at Raphael, “Stability is the goal for all of us. It would be . . . unsettling, to say the least, if the South were to suffer another loss so soon."

  "Yes,” Raphael agreed, his eyes raised to follow the progress of his mate who had left her perch by the bar and was now returning to the banquette. “Lubimaya,” he said.

  "Time's up, handsome,” she responded, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. “I want to dance.” She gestured toward the VIP lounge through the glass wall. The dance floor had filled once again with writhing bodies, some of which were actually dancing.

  "My lord,” Raj said, standing up next to Raphael. “I can drop the window entirely, if you prefer."

  "Perfect,” Cynthia decided. “Let's join this party!"

  Raj glanced at Raphael who gave a minute shrug and then nodded. Raj signaled over his shoulder to Danny, who reached under the bar and hit the controls, causing the wall of smoky glass to slide down into a pocket beneath the floor.

  The music and noise crashed in on them, along with the smell of marijuana, human sweat and cologne. The lounge was in full swing, the humans intoxicated by more than just the free-flowing alcohol. These VIP rooms existed in every one of Raj's clubs for one purpose only, and that was blood. Like the blood houses maintained by Krystof in Buffalo, or by Raphael in L.A., the VIP lounges brought together hungry vampires and their willing human donors who offered blood from the vein in exchange for a mind-blowing sexual experience and the illusion of dancing with death itself. Every human who walked through those double doors signed a legal waiver and release, and the whole thing was captured on security video as proof of willing participation, should it ever come to that. As recently as a hundred years ago, the vampires simply took what they needed. Now, they had lawyers and forms in triplicate, just like everyone else.

  By this time of night, or morning, all pretense dropped. Vampire and human were coming together in shadowed corners, on the dance floor, or if a couple preferred privacy, in one of several private rooms in the back. The scent of arousal was everywhere, along with the powerful and seductive influence of several dozen vampires on the hunt. Raj inhaled deeply and cast his eye on sweet, little Sarah.

  Sarah watched Raphael twirl a laughing Cyn out onto the floor. They disappeared almost instantly
in the crowd, as if they'd somehow pulled a curtain of shadow around themselves. She frowned, trying to see, but it was dark out there, the lights seeming to shift almost constantly making it difficult to focus on any one thing. She caught a brief glimpse of a couple on one of the leather couches and blinked in surprise. Maybe there was a good reason the lights were so low. She blushed and looked away quickly, only to find Raj staring at her from across the room. Her eyes widened and her heart raced, and she suddenly felt like a bunny beneath the gaze of something fierce and hungry and fully capable of swallowing her whole.

  Raj smiled that slow, lazy grin and started toward her with the loose hipped prowl of a born predator, his eyes, the gleaming blue of a deep glacier, pinning her in place. He held out his hand as he drew closer. “Come, little one. Dance with me."

  Every nerve in her body trilled with excitement and screamed, Yes! But she scowled at him irritably. Little one? Not in this lifetime. “My name is Sarah,” she corrected firmly.

  Raj laughed, warm and sexy and full of intimate knowledge, as if they'd been lovers for years. “Very well,” he agreed. He took her hand and pulled her from the high bar stool, an arm circling her waist when she would have stumbled at the sudden movement. “Dance with me, little Sarah,” he whispered against her ear.

  Sarah shivered involuntarily. She knew she should say, No. He was an arrogant bastard who thought that charming grin could get him any woman he wanted. She knew she should thank him nicely, climb back onto that ridiculous bar stool and get drunk on expensive champagne, but before her brain could formulate the words, her body decided for her, leaning into him as he led her toward the other room.