On the other side of the room, Raphael made a noise that sounded suspiciously like choked laughter. Cyn narrowed her gaze at him, but he didn’t look her way. He was too busy pretending that he wasn’t paying attention.
Cyn turned back to the interviewer and leaned forward. The woman predictably did the same, as if waiting for the big secret to be revealed.
“My scariest Halloween ever,” Cyn said in a confiding voice that she knew with 100% certainty Raphael could hear, “was the night I met my first vampire.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Raphael’s head turn her way. She lifted her head and met his gaze, smiling. He didn’t say a word, but his expression was very suspicious.
Cyn winked at him, then turned back to the interviewer who’d been watching the whole exchange with eager fascination. The woman had been thrilled to meet Raphael. A little too thrilled. Her nipples had popped out against that tight T-shirt like guns being deployed on a target.
“I met my very first vampire on Halloween,” Cyn said loudly, drawing the interviewer’s attention away from Raphael.
“Ah,” the interviewer said, managing to drag herself back to the matter at hand.
“He was also the first person I ever shot.”
The woman’s eyes widened with eager interest, but her indrawn breath was buried beneath the sound of Raphael’s chair being pushed back. He stalked across the room and sat next to Cyn on the sofa, one long arm stretching behind her possessively.
“You won’t mind if I listen in,” he said, not asking, but telling.
Cyn bit her lip to keep from laughing. “It was long before I met you,” she assured him. “I was fresh out of the academy, but most of my friends were in graduate school of one sort of another. We all lived in the same apartment building. The rent was cosmic and the place was pretty ratty, but God, we had fun there. Parties every weekend.” She smiled, thinking back on those days.
“The vampire?” Raphael prompted, in a voice that was more of an impatient growl.
“Right. Well, everyone knew that I was a cop, of course. So, whenever something happened, like a threatening ex or someone lurking around the front door . . . pretty much anything, they’d come tell me about it. This time, though, it was more serious, and well beyond my experience or skills at that point. At first, we thought it was just some freak who’d watched too many horror movies. It had been going on all month, pretty much since October 1st, which just seemed to reinforce the whole horror-movie angle. Some guy thought he could get his jollies by dressing up like Dracula and attacking women. Except, they were really getting hurt. He was biting them. And I’m not talking nice little puncture marks, either. He was more like a wild animal. The only reason we figured he was a Dracula wannabe was because of the way he dressed. I mean, as badly as their necks were torn, he could have been into werewolves instead.”
“There’s no such thing.”
Cyn and the interviewer both looked at Raphael in surprise. “Dracula?” the woman asked finally.
Raphael stared at her, as if wondering what she was doing in his house, but then he said flatly, “No. Werewolves.”
“Too bad,” Cyn offered, trying to break the tension. “Wolves are kinda sexy.”
Raphael’s head swiveled slowly to face her. He didn’t say anything, just gave her a lazy, slow-lidded blink of those fabulous black eyes.
“Not as sexy as vampires, of course,” she said quickly, patting his thigh. His expression didn’t change. She was sooo going to pay for this later.
“So, this person wasn’t a real vampire?” the interviewer interjected. She was now eyeing Raphael nervously, as if she expected him to turn feral at any moment.
Cyn gave the woman a friendly smile. “Well, that’s the thing. We didn’t think so. I mean, there weren’t that many vamps around back then. At least, not that we knew about. We figured it was just some freaky human, and so did the police. But he was covering a pretty big territory and they couldn’t seem to pin him down.”
“So, what did you do?” The woman was really getting in the story now.
“We set up this whole neighborhood sting operation,” Cyn replied. “I was the bait—”
Raphael growled unhappily and the interviewer jumped, clearly believing her earlier fears of impending violence had been justified.
Cyn just pulled his arm lower onto her shoulder, patted his hand, and continued. “Everyone in my building and some of the others from the neighborhood were the watchers. We had a whole phone relay set up so they could keep an eye on me and be ready for the takedown. It would have worked, too, except for one thing.”
“He was real,” Raphael said dryly.
Cyn nodded, sighing deeply. “He was real, all right. He attacked me less than twenty yards from the window where one of the watcher teams was stationed. They were right there and they didn’t see a thing. Later on, they said it was like I walked into the shadow of a tree, except there weren’t any trees. The vamp grabbed me right in front of them and dragged me back to his place.”
What he’d actually done was knock her out using some form of telepathy, but Cyn figured Raphael wouldn’t want that part of the story printed for everyone to read. So, she skipped over how the vamp managed to abduct her.
“Oh, my God!” the interviewer said. She picked up her small digital recorder and studied the display, as if checking to be certain it was catching every word.
“Did you kill him?” Raphael murmured, and Cyn knew he was plotting murder himself if she hadn’t.
“You’re getting ahead of my story,” she scolded him.
He gave her a narrow-eyed glance, and Cyn had to choke back a laugh one more time. She swallowed hard and went on with her story. “Anyway,” she said, facing the woman again, “the next thing I know, I was waking up in this dingy little apartment, totally dark, and this freak is bustling around his kitchen humming like he’s baking a pie or something.”
“How does one hum when baking a pie?” Raphael murmured.
“Hell if I know. No one ever baked one for me. Now stop interrupting. I wake up and I’m really groggy. I figure I’ve been drugged, but he hasn’t taken any of my weapons, which was a surprise. I had my service weapon, which was a Sig 9mm, plus a smaller backup piece in an ankle holster. I went to pull the Sig, but I must have given something away, because wham!—he was on me. And he starts pushing me down, tearing my sweater away from my neck, except it won’t stay, so he rips it. And the whole time, he’s muttering to himself, like he’s following a checklist of what to do or something.”
“What was he saying?” the woman gasped.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t English.”
“What language was it?” Raphael asked
“Something Arabic, I think. None of the languages I knew. Now let me finish!” She turned back to the wide-eyed interviewer. “The vamp took the Sig after that, but he didn’t think to search me for anything else. He figured he had me, but I wasn’t going down easy. I fought him and managed to shove him off the bed. Shocked the hell out of him, too, but then he got really pissed. He stood up and full-on flashed his fangs and snarled at me. He wasn’t even pretending anymore. But while he was posing and trying to scare me, I grabbed my backup piece and shot him in the face.”
The interviewer’s jaw dropped. “Oh, my God, did you kill him?”
“No,” Cyn said patiently, not bothering to explain that a single bullet to the face wouldn’t kill any vampire she’d ever met. She continued, “But it took him down long enough for me to grab back my Sig and shoot him a few more times.”
The woman made a breathless ah sound. “Then what?”
“Well, then, I called the police. Remember, I was a sworn officer of the law. I kept my gun trained on him the whole time, just in case. But he stayed down until the cops arrived and arrested him.”
“Wonderful,” the woman whispered. “Our readers will love this. Thank you! Um . . .” She fidgeted nervously with her recorder, then said, “Can I ask a more personal question?”
Cyn shrugged. “Sure. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer it, but ask away.”
“Everyone knows Duncan’s gone off somewhere, but no one’s heard anything else. When do we find out what’s happening with him?”
“I’m not sure how much I can—”
“November 15th,” Raphael said abruptly. “You’ll be able to read all about it on November 15th.” He stood, taking Cyn’s hand and pulling her up with him in a clear signal that the interview was over.
The interviewer’s mouth opened in a surprised “Oh.” She was clearly dying to ask for details, but one glance at Raphael’s forbidding expression had her gathering her things quickly and standing to leave.
“Thank you so much, Ms. Leighton and you, too—”
The rest of her sentence was cut off as Juro stepped into view. “I’ll escort you out,” he rumbled.
“Of course,” the interviewer said, clutching her purse. “Thank you again, Ms. Leighton, Lord Raphael,” she called over her shoulder as she was hustled from the room by Juro’s bulk.
Cyn watched the woman leave, waiting until the door closed before slipping her arms around Raphael’s waist and looking up at him.
Raphael pulled her close automatically. “Did you really turn him over to the police?” he asked.
“No,” she said honestly. “He was my first vampire kill. Emptied my entire magazine, plus a backup, twenty-one rounds total, into his heart from about six inches away, then I broke off a chair leg and stabbed that into him for good measure. I waited until he was nothing but dust. Then I ran all the way home.”
“I thought as much.”
“Did you know him?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He was an incompetent fool. If you hadn’t killed him, I would have.”
A sudden gust of wind batted the windows and Cyn shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“It’s just the wind.”
She laughed as he shifted his hold and swept her up and into his arms. “Come, my Cyn, I’ll make you warm.”
Cyn shivered again as Raphael carried her into their private elevator . . . but for an entirely different reason.
The End
When Cyn Met Emma
Paranormal Haven
November 28, 2011
(Just after DUNCAN’s release)
Author’s Note: At the end of DUNCAN, the big bad vamps are all glaring at each other over the Council table. But did you ever wonder what happened when Cyn met Emma?
CYN TUGGED THE towel more closely around her neck. The fog had rolled in with a vengeance and it was cold in Malibu tonight. She’d just finished a major workout, and not just with Elke, but Juro’s hulking twin, as well. With all the Council members in town for the big meet, Raphael had insisted she have a second bodyguard, even on the estate.
She’d argued that Raphael needed the protection more than she did, since he was the one meeting his fellow homicidal vampire lords. Predictably, that argument hadn’t gone over well, so both Elke and Juro’s twin now shadowed Cyn everywhere she went unless Raphael was with her. Although when Raphael was with her, they had his guards and her guards, so that was hardly an improvement.
But the point was that when she worked out tonight, it had been with Juro’s twin instead of Elke. Elke had been there, but she’d watched from the sidelines, insisting it was better training for Cyn to fight someone new. Of course, the twin wasn’t just someone new, he was someone new and fucking huge! He was at least double Cyn’s entire body weight. And she was feeling every ounce of that extra weight right now. There was, apparently, a huge difference between throwing the 130-pound Elke over her shoulder and trying the same thing with the nearly 300-pound Japanese bodyguard. Her muscles screamed just remembering the attempt.
She could hardly wait to get back to her private quarters and a long, hot soak in the Jacuzzi tub. They hadn’t taken more than a few steps across the courtyard when she was forced to draw up short, because Juro’s twin suddenly went on alert. Without warning, he stepped in front of her, halting her forward progress. Next to her, Elke, too, was staring across the courtyard suspiciously.
“What?” Cyn demanded and peered around her bodyguard’s bulk.
It was another limousine. One more vampire lord joining the party. Okay, this wouldn’t take long . . . she hoped. Depending on who it was, he might rush out of the car and into the house, or he might instead stand next to the car and preen awhile, letting the peons get a good look at his wonderfulness. Cyn shivered slightly in the cold and hoped it was the first kind of vamp. And she wished she had more than the small towel to keep her warm in the meantime. The limo door opened and her two bodyguards relaxed infinitesimally, like a pent-up breath suddenly released. She stepped to the side again, just enough to see who it was. She caught sight of a familiar blond ponytail and grinned.
“It’s Duncan,” she said impatiently. She dodged around Juro’s twin, racing across the courtyard. Her bodyguards were right behind her and then in front of her by the time Duncan turned with a smile.
“Elke,” Cyn said irritably, pushing at the immovable object of the female vampire. “It’s Duncan,” she repeated. Elke didn’t move until the twin gave one of the security team’s hand signs, which clearly said it was okay.
“What the fuck?” Cyn grumbled.
“Don’t blame them,” Duncan said, as she drew closer. “I’ve two unknown vampires with me, and I’m a newly ascended vampire lord. Not everyone takes well to the transition. They were only being cautious.”
“Whatever,” Cyn dismissed, and hugged him. “Are you all recovered from your various mishaps? Every time we turned around lately, someone was shooting you or trying to turn you into a crispy critter.”
“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” he said dryly. “Cynthia, darling, you need a shower.”
“Duncan!” A dark-haired woman climbed out of the limo, making use of Duncan’s proffered hand to assist her. “What a terrible thing to say,” she added, then turned to Cyn with a smile. “Don’t mind him. He’s just grumpy because traffic was bad and he doesn’t like being the last one here.”
“Emma,” Duncan chided her gently. “Cynthia, this is Emma Duquet. Emma, Cynthia Leighton.”
Cyn’s eyes widened in realization. So this was the woman who’d hung up on her when she’d called to check on Duncan after the fire. The woman who’d all but bragged about spending hours and hours in Duncan’s bed, when she’d thought Cyn was a romantic rival. Hmm.
“Cyn,” Duncan warned her in a low voice.
“What now?” Cyn asked in mock exasperation. Goodness, what did he think she was going to do? Start a cat fight in the courtyard? Duncan was her friend, and Cyn cherished her friends. If Emma was important to Duncan, then Emma was important to Cyn, too. Besides, she had it on pretty good authority that Emma might just have saved Duncan’s life in that whole Washington mess.
Not that she’d ever say any of this to Duncan. Instead, she turned to him and said haughtily, “If my sweat bothers you, why don’t you go on in. Emma and I can—” Cyn’s words died in her throat as Emma shifted to let someone else out of the car and Cyn fully appreciated for the first time what Emma was wearing. She was dressed all in black—turtleneck sweater, wool blazer, and an A-line skirt to mid-calf. But the boots . . . the boots were red leather stilettos . . . no, the leather wasn’t red, it was oxblood, and the boots were the most beautiful thing. . .
“Oh. My. God,” Cyn said, eyeing the fabulous boots. “Those are Alexander McQueen stirrup boots.”
“Yes!” Emma turned her foot to better sh
ow off the boot’s unique detail. “Aren’t they gorgeous?”
“I’ve been looking all over for those; where did you get them?”
“Online,” Emma said enthusiastically. “You can find anything online, which is great, because I’m really not much of a shopper. Duncan gave them to me for Valentine’s Day, but I picked them out. Of course, they’re far too expensive, so I told him they could count for my birthday, too, but—”
“No, no,” Cyn corrected her, taking her arm in a companionable way and turning her toward the house. “Duncan has plenty of money and what better way to spend it than on you? How long are you going to be here this trip?” she asked as she and Emma walked away from the limo and started up the stairs. “You know,” Cyn confided, not waiting for Emma’s answer, “Manhattan has nothing on Beverly Hills when it comes to stores. Maybe we can do a little shopping after I shower,” she said with a pointed look over her shoulder. “You’d think they’d appreciate a little sweat when a woman’s trying to stay fit, but they’re so delicate, aren’t they?”
“Well, I think you smell just fine,” Emma agreed. “In fact, I think we should go online and get you some boots. I’m sure they—”
“Cyn,” Duncan called somewhat plaintively.
Both women turned to look back at him. He didn’t say anything, just gave Cyn a meaningful look.
“He’s afraid I’ll corrupt you,” she confided to Emma, but in a voice loud enough for Duncan to hear.
“Sounds exciting,” Emma said. “Does it involve wine and chocolate, by any chance?”
“Is there any other way?”
THE TWO WOMEN laughed as they turned and disappeared into the big house, followed by Juro’s twin.
Elke lingered long enough to greet Duncan.
“I’d rather hoped they wouldn’t get along.” Duncan sighed, looking after the two departed women.
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