Ranson, Tracy L. - Prince of Night [Bloodborn 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Tracy L. Ranson

  "I'll kill you," he growled through clenched teeth. "You can count on that."

  She let go. His nuts felt as though they had swelled to the size of basketballs. "Oh, I'm counting on it, Raphael." She walked over to the window and swept her hands in a wide arc. Glass panes creaked opened out onto the darkened street, the stars twinkling against the black canvas of the sky. "Since we can't be on the same side anymore, Raphael, I guess to the victor go the spoils. I am certainly going to enjoy killing her a second time and making you watch once again before I kill you."

  His rage mounted as his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. "I swear by all that's holy and unholy, you'll be dead before this is over, Zakara. I'm going to send you back to Hell where you belong."

  Her devilish laughter rang through the room as she spread her arms wide. Giant black wings like those of a gargoyle emerged from her back. "You only have so much time, Raphael, before she is mine. Tell me, will you fail her again?"

  Before he could answer, Zakara turned and flew out the window, becoming one with the night. He strode to the window, locked it, and closed the curtains.

  He sank down on the couch and put his head in his hands. What was he going to do? Zakara knew of Elizabeth's existence.

  Raphael looked up at the precious portrait hanging over the fireplace. Elizabeth smiled down at him, her blonde curls framing her angelic face, her creamy hands crossed. Diamonds, a betrothal gift from him, decorated her neck.

  I won't let you down again, he promised her silently. I will never let you go.

  * * * *

  Liz's first class went as well as she could have expected. She thought perhaps she'd see Raphael during the business of the day. She didn't. Part of her felt let down. Her better sense told her that he was just being kind by taking her out to dinner. It was a one-time thing, nothing more.

  She walked to a deserted bench on the student quadrangle and sat down. She flipped through her Dereham's book again and turned to Elizabeth's page. She smiled. That's what she'd taken to calling it. Over the last few days, she had acquainted herself with the mystery of the beautiful Lady Elizabeth. From what she could glean from old texts, Lady Elizabeth had been found on her marriage bed with her throat viciously torn out, the entire bed coated in blood. It was also found that the Lady was with child as well.

  A dim shadow from the dying sunlight fell over her book. "Hello again." She looked up into the Raphael’s beautiful green eyes. He sank down next to her on the bench. "What are you reading?"

  Liz slammed the book shut before he could see. The past of the intriguing Lady Elizabeth was not something she wanted to discuss with anyone. "Just doing some reading," she said and shifted on the hard bench so she could see him better. "How was your class?"

  "Very well. Much better than I expected."

  "What did you expect to happen?"

  "Nothing really." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the knees of his Armani-clad legs. "It's just that I'm used to teaching in England and the students are a little different there."

  Her brow rose. "How so?"

  "There are no words to describe it, I suppose." The corner of his mouth turned up into a sexy half-smile. Her heart fluttered. "I will tell you this much, I like teaching in America much better."

  His sensuality hit her like a wall and made her tremble. "My next class is in five minutes," she lied, gathering her things. His magnetism was too strong for her to withstand. She didn't want to pin her hopes on having a relationship with him only to have them crushed.

  "I'll walk you there." He rose from the bench and held out his hand. "It'll give us a chance to talk."

  A sudden rush of calm washed over her, allowing her to accept his offer. "I don't have a class," she heard herself say.

  His black brow arched. "Then why did you say you had one?"

  "I —I am afraid," she confessed, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

  "Of what?"

  "Of you," she said, her knees shaking beneath her mid-calf length skirt.

  He slid back down beside her as his strong arm slipped around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Why are you afraid of me?"

  She felt the sexual heat of his body seep through her red sweater, making her temperature rise. "I've never been with a man," she heard herself say.

  "That's all right, Elizabeth." His scorching kiss found her neck and burned the skin there. "I'll take everything slowly."

  For a moment, she drowned in the sensations he aroused in her. His fiery lips grazed the line of her neck, licking and teasing. Her breath hitched in and out of her chest as the newfound emotions boiled within her. "Please don't," she begged. "I'm saving myself for marriage." That confession always stayed deep within her soul, since she refused to let it out.

  "Are you telling me that you're a virgin, Elizabeth?"

  "Yes," she said breathlessly as her head lolled back, allowing him even more access.

  "Your innocence belongs to me and I will take great care not to hurt you when I lay claim to what is mine.”

  She was dimly aware of his hand between her knees and nudged them apart. Her cunt convulsed with anticipation as his hand slid under her skirt and touched her silk clad thigh. She wanted to stop him yet something inside of her refused to allow her to. Raphael was not to be denied. The sound of tearing silk filled the air as Raphael tore the crotch of her pantyhose. Taking a thick knuckle, he pushed her saturated panties against her clit and stroked with gentle pressure. She moaned.

  “You like that.”

  “I—I—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Elizabeth, for it doesn’t become you. You want my fingers inside of your aching pussy, don’t you?”

  Her eyes snapped opened. “No, not out here!”

  Raphael chuckled against her cheek. “None of these people can see us.”

  Liz watched with horror as the people ventured past them on the verdant green of the campus, not even so much as glancing in their direction. Raphael removed the knuckle and turned his finger against the damp slit. “You’re so wet for me, Elizabeth,” he murmured huskily against the warm funnel of her ear. “I can’t tell you how much I want to bury my cock inside of you.”

  Before she could issue a reply, he pushed the edge of her wet panties aside and touched her quivering slit. He dipped a finger inside of her tight cavern. She gasped as he drew in a sharp breath. “You’re tight. I think you can take every inch of my hard cock and you will soon.” Another thick digit joined the first.

  Liz leaned her head back and enjoyed the sensation of his fingers plunging deep into her cunt and stroking the secret spots, the walls of her pussy stretched with the limit. "Oh, Raphael, why are you doing this to me?”

  "Open your eyes," he whispered against the long curved funnel of her ear.

  She did as he commanded. What she saw stunned her. Raphael stood a few feet away, looking puzzled. "Is something wrong?"

  Liz looked down at her skirt and pushed the hem of it this way and that, looking for telltale signs of runs in her pantyhose. There weren't any.

  Her breathing labored hard as she sat there trying to regain her composure. Had she dreamed it? Yes, she must have, because Raphael wouldn't have touched her like that, especially in public. Liz was puzzled. Why would she dream something like that while she was awake? Asleep, she could understand, not awake.

  She gathered her books up in her arms. "No, nothing's wrong, Raphael. If you will excuse me, there are a few things I need to get finished by the next class."

  He caught her by one arm. "Where are you going?"

  "Anywhere away from here."

  * * * *

  Raphael watched her as she scurried away from him, her luscious legs pumping. The rapid beat of her heart assailed his ears, making him hunger for her more. Why couldn't she understand she belonged to him and no one else? Why couldn't she see that?

  "You lost again, Raphael," Alex's mental voice broke through his train of thought.

  "No, I have
n't, Alex. You can bet on that."

  Her vital laughter rang through the rafters of his mind. "You shouldn't have toyed with her like that."

  "Tell me something I don't already know." For some strange reason, he craved a cigarette. He'd never really smoked, taking only the occasional cheroot socially when he was mortal. Even after all these centuries, he still needed something to take the edge off his nerves.

  "She's still a virgin, Raphael. You've got to take this very slowly."

  "I know, Alex," he groaned silently as he strode across the campus. "I’ve got to take her soon before something happens to her.”

  Silence. Then came Alex's voice, more serious than before. "Zakara knows, doesn't she?"

  "She does and will do anything, including killing Elizabeth again, to bring me back into the fold."

  "Your mark won't stop her."

  He stopped. That dreaded fact never left his mind. "I know. At least I can give her protection until I can kill Zakara."

  "Please, Raphael," Alex warned. "Do be careful. Don't forget who Zakara's father is."

  "Satan would not interfere," he said as he picked up his pace, heading toward his car. "This is Zakara's affair, not his."

  "She won't hesitate to call upon his power if necessary," Alex warned, her tone becoming even more ominous.

  "I know," he thought as he pulled his key out of his back pocket and jammed it into the driver's side door of the silver Jaguar. "I lost Elizabeth once. I'm not going to do it again, no matter what the cost."

  * * * *

  The odd scene from yesterday still haunted Liz's mind, as if to taunt her. She'd hardly slept all night, the feelings his hands evoked still thrumming through her body. Every time she'd thought about him, her hips automatically rose, making her pussy wet for his touch. Why did that dream seem so real? Was it because she wanted it so badly?

  She looked into the mirror as the unabashed anxiety stormed through her veins. Today was the day for her change. Gone would be the mousy brown hair and in its place would be another color, more vibrant and rich. Red or blonde. She wasn't exactly sure which one. She'd wait to see what the hairdresser said.

  The blue contacts she'd ordered were due in a few days, so the glasses would be history as well.

  Liz leaned back, her hands cradled in her lap. Why was she doing this? Just because Raphael suggested she should? Her eyes narrowed. No, she was doing this for herself, nothing more. Then why had she waited so long?

  The answer was simple. She was too afraid of change. Afraid of what she would become once she had transformed.

  Without warning, a sudden gust of wild wind ripped through her bedroom window, whipping the curtains in a frenzy. She leaped to her feet and hurried to the window, closing and locking it. Where had that come from?

  She leaned against the window, feeling the vibrations of the wind rattle the glass. The weather forecast had said nothing of high winds today.

  Pushing away, she strode over to her bed. There, in the middle of her soft, rose coverlet, was her Dereham's book. It lay open with the pages flipped to Lady Elizabeth Swanson's section. The text with her picture on it wavered slightly before settling down.

  Liz sank down on the bed, her fingers dancing over the portrait. Is that what she would look like as a blonde? She looked at it again, studying the bone structure. Hmmm, it was almost like her own.

  She slammed it shut. This was sheer insanity. There was no such thing as reincarnation.

  Leaping to her feet, she paced around her bed restlessly. Was she really doing this for herself or was it an effort to get Raphael to notice her?

  Several times this morning, she'd put her hand on the phone, ready to call the salon and cancel the appointment. Every time, she had pulled back, resisting the urge to call. She was more positive than ever she should cancel.

  Don't cancel, her inner voice told her, this is your chance to live.

  Liz sank down on the bed as hot tears of confusion streamed down her face. What if she went through with all of this and it failed? What would she do then? Was she ready to deal with the emotions that would follow her disappointment?

  She looked up, her tears drying. Yes, she would be able to deal with an eventual failure. She had the strength within her.

  Liz glanced at the clock. It was almost noon and her appointment was at twelve thirty. Warily, she rose from the bed, gathering her purse in trembling hands. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her skirt and left the safe confines of her room. Her new life was about to begin.

  * * * *

  "Honestly, Raph, do you think by getting her to change her hair and eye color that she'll become Elizabeth?" Alex questioned as they sat in the quiet little Italian restaurant where he and Elizabeth had their first dinner together since being reunited.

  "With time—?"

  "Wait, wait, wait," Nicholas joined in, pushing his untouched plate of food away. "Are you telling me that you're going to try and transform her into Elizabeth? You don't even know it’s her."

  "I do know it's her," he insisted, doing the same with his own plate, "because she has the memories stored in her mind."

  "That doesn't mean anything," Nicholas warned, his fingers fiddling with a stir stick. "She may have read up on Elizabeth and about how she died."

  "It's her. There's no doubt about it."

  Nicholas opened his mouth to say something only he closed it as he froze in his position.

  "What's wrong?" Raphael asked the question yet already knew the answer. There was only one time in the world when the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

  "Zakara's here," Nicholas whispered as he leaned forward, motioning them to do the same.

  "We know." Alex offered her hand, closing it around Nicholas’. "The important thing is that we stick together, no matter what happens."

  "She's after me, Nick. Once she has me, she'll be after the rest of you," he looked over his shoulder to see if Zakara was in the vicinity. If she was here, she more than likely had taken a mortal form. "No matter what happens to me, stick together. That's the only way to defeat her."

  Nick's dark eyes glazed in a mask of fear. "I don't want to ever go back to her. Those are times I'd rather forget."

  "As would we all," he said, giving Nick a reassuring pat on the back. "If I had my way, we'd never go back."

  Just as rapidly as it had washed over them, the evil feelings disappeared, making them all feel a little more relaxed. Since their escape, along with the others from Zakara's coven, he had been their leader and protector. They had placed their faith and trust in him, the rock that hadn't wavered in two hundred and fifty years. The true test had come. Would he be able to save them all, including Elizabeth? "She's gone," he announced, leaning back in his chair.

  "That was close," Alex commented, throwing her black curls over her mocha-colored bare shoulder. "She knows where we are."

  "She's known for a while, Alex. It's just that she plans to strike at us because we have more to lose," he said, his gaze trailing over the patio, searching for any sign of Zakara.

  All was quiet.

  "So, she was putting us on edge," Alex replied angrily, slamming her fist on the table. "If that bitch thinks she’s going to take my beloved Michael, she's in for one hell of a fight."

  "Me too," Nick chimed in as his demeanor surged from fear to anger. "She won't get Tatiana."

  "The thing is she knows what it will take to break us. If we are emotionally beaten, we will be much more likely to assimilate into the coven again.”

  "You sound like a damned shrink, Raphael," Nick growled as he pushed away from the table. "I, for one, am not going to sit back and wait for that bitch to take Tatiana."

  "Don't you see, Nick? That little visit of hers was meant to fracture us and put us on edge. It's what she wants."

  His friend sat silently for a moment, apparently thinking over the words still hanging in the air. "Okay, you've got a point. What do we do?"

  "I’ve already marked Elizabe
th for her protection. I must make her realize who she really is. Once she is mine, then we can move forward with our plan to destroy Zakara and send her back to Hell where she belongs."

  It was the only way. He was the only one without his mate. If this was going to work, he needed Elizabeth as much for himself as he did to defeat Zakara.

  "Count me in, too," Alex said, leaning forward intently. "What are we going to do?"

  He looked around as the lesser mortals enjoyed their meals and conversations in relative ease, not realizing that their inane lives could end at any moment. No sense came over him to indicate that Zakara, the devil spawn, was among them anymore. "Not here. It's far too dangerous to talk about it. We have to go somewhere beyond her reach."

  "There's really no place—" Alex trailed off for a moment before her eyes brightened up. "I know the place!"

  He was relieved. "Where?"

  "Follow me."

  * * * *

  Liz stepped dreamily out onto the sidewalk, her newly dyed blonde hair piled on top of her head. She shivered with anticipation as she started down the sidewalk. What would people think?

  Before heading to her car, she stopped and had one last look at her reflection in the shop’s glass. The curls were the color of summer wheat, looking completely natural and lustrous. Sally, the hairdresser, had talked her into dyeing and waxing her eyebrows as well. She'd been pleased with the results as well as frightened. How would people react to her?

  Liz took a deep sigh, garnering all her strength. The optician had called while she was getting her hair done to let her know the contacts she'd ordered had come in early. It was almost too much change for one day.

  You have to live, her mind told her. You've hidden too long in the shadows.

  Liz stiffened. Her inner voice was right. The time had come for her to slip from her cocoon and spread her wings and get ready for flight.

  She started down the sidewalk toward her car, her low heels banging against the concrete. Her heart beat in unison with her steps, the excitement riding her veins like an out-of-control roller coaster. Since she was on a makeover kick, perhaps she'd have to venture down to Totally Woman and pick out some new clothes.