Vampires in America

by D. B. Reynolds

  He shot his shirt cuffs, tugging the starched edges a precise half inch past the silk wool sleeves of his suit jacket. “And you? Do you plan to get dressed eventually? Or will you remain down here, chortling over your computer all night?”

  “Jealous?”

  He leaned over and bit her lower lip. “Yes.”

  “See? I’m right. You do need a vacation.”

  “In the snow.”

  “Get over it, dude. It’s going to be great. You’ll see.”

  Aspen, Colorado

  CYN LOUNGED BACK against Raphael’s solid body, her toes curling in the warm socks she’d pulled on in lieu of slippers. She thought about reaching for her wine glass, but she was a little too comfortable to make the effort. Snow was falling fast and heavy outside the big plate-glass window, but the house was warm and toasty, with a lively fire burning in the huge, stone fireplace. Raphael kissed the top of her head absently, his attention never wavering from the e-reader in his left hand.

  Christmas in the snow. It was exactly what she’d wanted. So, why the hell was she feeling so bored? Damn.

  “Dancing,” she said without warning.

  Raphael’s e-reader was lowered to the table next to him. “Dancing?” he repeated, making a question of the single word.

  “We need to go dancing.”

  Silence.

  “I’ll be fun,” she insisted.

  “Does that mean you’ve had your fill of Christmas in the snow?”

  “No. I’m simply expanding our itinerary.”

  “We have an itinerary?”

  She sat up and swung around to face him, resting one hand on his rock-hard thigh. “I’ll tell you what. One night of dancing at a club of my choice . . . and then we can go home to Malibu.”

  “Done,” he said, before she could amend the deal. “When do we leave?”

  She laughed. “The club’s open tonight.”

  “Excellent. What’s the name? I’ll have Jared call ahead.”

  “It’s a popular place. We might not be able to get a reservation this late.”

  “No problem. Jared is very persuasive.”

  “I don’t know the name, but it’s underground, so he should be able to find it.”

  Raphael stood, pulling her up with him. “Let’s go. You can change while I talk to Jared.” He hustled her ahead of him down the hall to their bedroom.

  “How do you know I want to change?”

  He laughed. “Because I know you, my Cyn.” He slapped her ass lightly. “Change. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  She turned and grabbed a fistful of his thick T-shirt, pulling herself up onto her toes until their faces were even. “I love you.”

  He went still, letting one hand drop to curl around her lower back, while his other hand cupped her cheek. He kissed her softly. “I ya lyublyu tebya. Seychas i navsegda.”

  And I love you. Now and forever.

  Cyn’s heart squeezed at his declaration of love, such beautiful words in his native Russian. Tears stung her eyes, sliding down her cheeks as they kissed.

  “We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to,” she whispered, her throat still tight with emotion.

  He smiled. “Too late, lubimaya. The deal is already made.”

  She grinned back at him, knowing the tease was his way of easing the emotion of the moment. “It was worth a shot,” she said, playing along.

  He kissed her again, hard and fast. “The car leaves in thirty minutes.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Thirty minutes! That’s not enough time. I need to—”

  “You’re already stunning. Anything more is just window dressing.”

  Emotion swelled again. She lowered her eyes and patted his chest. “You say the sweetest things, fang boy. Make your plans. I’ll be ready in thirty.”

  TECHNO MUSIC throbbed like the heart of a great beast, lights flashing with each pump of fresh blood. Or maybe it was some other organ, Cyn considered. Some other fluid that was pumping. Glancing around the packed club, one would never know it was Christmas Eve. Oh, sure, the flashing lights hit red and green every eighth beat or so, and there was a token bit of green garland around the mirror behind the bar. But that was it.

  Raphael’s arm tightened around her waist as they eased their way through the crowd around the door, with Jared taking the lead. When she’d suggested this little outing, she’d assumed the club would be half-empty. It was Christmas Eve, for God’s sake. Didn’t these people have families? Shouldn’t they be home wrapping or unwrapping presents? Getting drunk on eggnog, instead of high-priced cocktails?

  Her attention abruptly locked on a determined-looking man making a beeline in their direction, his gaze never leaving Raphael. “Incoming,” she warned and shifted slightly, placing herself in front of Raphael, while her hand drifted to the subcompact Sig 9mm in her coat pocket. Raphael’s growl sounded in her ear, as Jared stepped in front of them to intercept the man whose eyes abruptly gleamed red . . . and stayed that way. “Vampire,” she muttered.

  “Jared, welcome.” The club vampire’s words were barely audible over the noise, but the warmth of his greeting was reflected in his smile and the macho handclasp and shoulder bump that the two vamps exchanged.

  “Let me guess,” Cyn said dryly. “This club is owned by vampires, too.”

  “Of course,” Raphael said. “Do you think I’d have agreed to bring you here otherwise?” He took her hand away from the gun in her pocket, and using their linked hands to pull her closer, he trapped her hand behind her back and hugged her tightly, putting his mouth directly at her ear. “The next time you try to protect me with your body, my Cyn, I will be far less circumspect in stopping you.”

  She gave him a narrow look. Less circumspect? What the hell did that mean? He returned her look with a blank face. And no one on earth did blank face better than Mr. Lord-of-All-He-Surveys Raphael. She settled for an unladylike snort, then turned her attention instead to the club vamp whom Jared was now introducing.

  “Sire, this is—”

  “Miles Younger,” Raphael supplied, causing the vamp’s eyes to flare such a bright red that they competed with the flashing lights.

  “My lord,” Miles said, the reverence in his voice echoing the joy in his expression. “I am honored. Welcome to our club.”

  Raphael nodded slightly. It might have seemed snobbish to someone who didn’t know him or the situation, but Cyn knew both. Raphael accepted that kind of adoration as his due. It was simply part of vampire society. Raphael wasn’t just Miles’s lord, he was the power who kept vampires like Miles safe and alive, in the most literal sense. Even so, he didn’t take their love or loyalty for granted. He earned the respect of vampires like Miles.

  But he also preferred anonymity in public places. Cyn squeezed his hand, knowing he wanted the adoration part to be over with.

  Since Jared also knew that, he put himself in front of Raphael and said, “We should get him to a table, Miles. Security issues. You understand.”

  “Of course,” Miles said at once. “I’ve reserved our largest table, but it’s also the most discreet.” With a last, respectful nod in Raphael’s direction, he started through the crowd, which parted like magic before them. Actually, it was magic. Cyn could feel the hum of vampire power over her skin, subtly pushing the human club-goers out of their way. It wasn’t Raphael’s doing. He hadn’t raised so much as a magical little finger. Between Jared and the two other security vamps who’d accompanied them into the club, plus probably Miles, too, there was already an overload of vampire magic.

  Once they reached the table, though, she had to admit that Miles had done good. It was big enough for ten people, if they really liked one another. Call it eight if they preferred a bit more space. In their case, the only people sitting were Jared, Cyn, and Rap
hael. The other two vamps remained standing, keeping a watchful eye on the crowd and leaving little doubt as to the danger of fucking with the table’s occupants.

  THEY’D BEEN AT the club for about an hour, long enough that they were on their second bottle of Raphael’s favorite vodka, which was sitting in an ice bucket frosted with cold. Obviously, Jared had done more than make a reservation when he’d called ahead. Cyn was sitting in the curve of Raphael’s arm, people-watching, when she wasn’t making out with her boyfriend.

  “Is this what you wanted to do tonight?” Raphael spoke against her ear, his deep voice evoking all sorts of sensual images, most of which made her long for the privacy of their bed. Which was probably intentional. The bastard.

  She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. “I like the energy in a place like this. All of those people on the dance floor, hopping around, having fun.”

  He picked up a glass that was rimed with ice and sipped his vodka. “Most of them can’t dance.”

  She laughed. “That’s what makes it great. They don’t care.”

  He grunted.

  “I want to dance, too,” she said in sudden decision. “But not to this music. You think the deejay takes requests?”

  “He will.”

  Cyn shook her head. Of course, the deejay would take a request. Hell, Miles would clear out the club in an instant and give them a private party for two if that was what Raphael wanted. And Raphael would do it even faster if he thought she wanted it. Talk about romantic. But she still wanted her dance, so she wrote her request on a napkin and handed it to Jared. He glanced at it and rolled his eyes, but called the ever-attentive Miles over to their table. Miles, in turn, walked over and delivered Cyn’s request to the deejay, with, no doubt, a little vampire “push” to make sure it happened.

  Two songs later, the lights stopped flashing and dimmed way down, giving the busy club a soft, intimate feel. Anyone who’d ever been to a bar or nightclub knew what that meant. Couples—strangers and lovers, alike—slipped into each other’s arms when the first soft strings introduced the song. Cyn slid from the booth, pulling Raphael after her, and they became just another anonymous couple on the darkened dance floor as a rough voice sang the first words.

  Raphael’s arms came around her, pressing her against his powerful body, making her feel treasured, making her feel loved. She twined her arms around his neck, the fingers of one hand stroking his short hair. He was several inches taller than she was, but her heels made them almost even, so she could lean in and kiss him. He held her even tighter, until their bodies were perfectly aligned. His denim-clad thighs were hard against her legs, bare under her short dress, and his chest was a wall of solid muscle against her soft breasts. He smelled of his favorite aftershave, spicy with a hint of musk and leather, the latter from the jacket he was wearing over a simple black T-shirt. He smiled slightly when their eyes met, his limned in the silver of his power, hers probably shining wet with unshed tears.

  “You’re such a romantic,” he murmured, teasing. Because she always said it to him.

  “I love this song.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s us. You and me.”

  He tilted his head, listening to the lyrics. “He’s apologizing for loving her.”

  “Yes, but that’s not the point. He still loves her just as much as the first time they met, and he wants her the same way he did at that first spark of desire.”

  “But I love you even more than that, my Cyn.”

  Her eyes were definitely filling with tears.

  His smile grew.

  “Just dance with me,” she muttered, hiding her face against his neck.

  “Anytime, anywhere, lubimaya,” he murmured. He held her until the last notes of the piano had faded away. Everyone on the dance floor, everyone in the entire club, seemed frozen in time as he lowered his head and kissed her. It was a passionate kiss, the kind they wrote about in romance novels, all soft lips and caressing tongues, their bodies flush against one another, the firm ridge of his cock perfectly aligned with the triangle between her thighs.

  He lifted his head slightly, his tongue swiping at her bottom lip, before he touched his mouth briefly to hers once again.

  “We should go home,” she whispered.

  When the lights came up, and the pulsing sound of techno filled the crowded club once again, the vampire lord and his mate had left the building.

  AS SOON AS THEY were home, with the vault-style door on their bedroom sealing out the rest of the world against the coming sunrise, Cyn turned her back to Raphael and silently asked for his help with the zipper on her dress. He obliged, but not without taking advantage of her half-naked state, sliding a hand around to her bare belly, the fingers of his other hand gliding up to cup her half-naked breasts in their lace bra. He tweaked one nipple, then leaned down to kiss her neck, before moving into his half of the huge closet to undress.

  Cyn smiled at his back as she stepped out of her heels and let the dress slide to the floor. She picked it up and slipped it onto a velvet-covered hanger, then padded in her barely-there, but very pretty, underwear to the bathroom to wash her face. She didn’t wear full makeup very often, and, as always, could hardly wait to wash it off. Figuring she was about to get lucky, she brushed her teeth for good measure, then walked back to the closet, where she found a bare-chested Raphael standing there in half-zipped jeans.

  Giving him a wink that promised all sorts of delicious things, she went up on her tiptoes to kiss his mouth, a soft brush of her lips against his, teasing away when he would have deepened it to something more. She had other plans. Lowering his zipper, she reached in to grip his stiff cock, feeling it grow harder with every stroke of her fingers, as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

  “Cyn,” he growled in warning, though whether he wanted her to hurry up or slow down, she didn’t know. And didn’t care. This was her show, and she’d do it her way.

  “Hmmm?” It was a hum of sound as her lips closed over his cock, her tongue twisting around his thickness as she took him fully into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed out when she sucked, then released when she lifted her head until only the very tip of him was in her mouth. Her eyes rolled back, her gaze meeting his as she took his cock deep into her mouth once more, taking it all the way to touch the back of her throat, before lifting her head and slowly, so slowly, releasing him . . . but with a wicked twist. Raphael’s eyes narrowed in warning at the feel of her teeth scraping along the sensitive underside of his shaft, but he didn’t stop her. She slicked her tongue over the same length of his cock, swirling it around the very tip. And all the while, she held his gaze, his eyes star-flecked and shining silver, as she licked his cock up and down, kissing it teasingly.

  But Raphael had reached the end of his patience. His fingers twisted in her long hair, tightening painfully as he held her in place and fucked her willing mouth, his hips flexing as his cock plunged between her lips. Russian curses filled the room as his moves grew more urgent, the grip on her hair becoming so tight that she had to dig her fingers into his ass to keep from being tossed around by the force of his thrusts.

  He came with a long groan, holding her head still, his cock deep in her mouth as his release spilled down her throat. Cyn swallowed over and over, her throat muscles stroking his cock as she fought to control the urge to breathe. A moment before she’d have been forced to break away for oxygen, he pulled his cock from her mouth and dropped to his knees next to her, holding her against him when she sagged forward.

  “Lubimaya,” he murmured. That was the sweetest word in her world, the endearment he used only for her. My love. “Breathe,” he said, switching to English.

  She gasped out a laugh. “I’m trying.”

  He rubbed her back, his hand gliding down the bare stretch of skin between her bra and a pair of tiny black panties
. His fingers dipped even farther, slipping inside her underwear to cup her naked ass. He moved without warning after that, scooping her into his arms and standing with no effort. He carried her the short distance and dropped her to the bed, reaching down to pull the turned-down comforter out from under her, until she was lying on clean, cool sheets.

  “Strip,” he demanded. Cyn might have protested his bossiness, just for the hell of it, but she was too taken by the revelation of his gorgeous body as he slid his jeans down long legs, telling her what she’d already suspected—that he was commando under there. Raphael never wore briefs with jeans, only with his suits.

  Cyn lay there for a moment, admiring the view. Raphael was well over six feet of pure, magnificent male, with sweeping bands of thick muscle detailing broad shoulders, a wide chest and powerful arms. He had a flat belly and narrow hips, plus that beautifully delineated, deep vee of abdominal muscle that seemed designed to entice her eye to admire his cock and balls. So very much to admire, she thought lovingly. Her lover was a big man. Everywhere.

  It took her a moment to realize he was just standing there with his hands on his hips, watching her watch him. She licked her lips to keep the drool from spilling down her chin, and grinned up at him.

  “Are we going to stare or fuck?” she asked, as if he’d been the one staring.

  He laughed, and it was a sound of such breathtaking abandon that it stole her breath. She rarely managed to surprise him into laughing like that. It made her heart ache with joy, and more than a little fear. She loved him so much.

  “Come here, fang boy.”

  Raphael growled at the use of her favorite endearment, but there was no heat behind it. He’d never admit it, but he liked it.

  He prowled over and climbed onto the bed, bracketing her with his knees as she unhooked the front closure on her bra and tossed it aside. He took over from there, stripping the thin panties down her legs and throwing them after the bra. Cyn arched beneath him, hooking one long leg around his hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Raphael’s eyes lit with desire and something else, something sinful that made her worry what he had planned. She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Using vampire speed and strength, he lifted her in strong arms and twisted them both so that she ended up straddling him, with her knees gripping his hips and his cock an enticing length of steel between the lips of her pussy.