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

by Tracy L. Ranson

  * * * *

  Raphael frowned as he bent over the papers on his desk. Didn't these kids put the money that their parents spent on their education every year to good use? Most of the tests were only filled out halfway while others had asinine answers because the students hadn't bothered to study. Their main concern lately was how to get a keg over the weekend for the frat party.

  A shadow fell over his heap of work and irritated him no end. "If you need to speak to me, I'll be in my office after lunch," he growled, his red pen going to town on the paper in front of him.

  "I thought I'd take you to lunch this time, Raphael," cooed a sweet female voice.

  He looked up slowly, his cold blood pooling in his feet. His Elizabeth stood before him in all her glory. Gone were the mousy brown curls. In their place were soft blonde spirals framing her face. She had tamed her formerly unruly eyebrows and colored them to match her hair. Also missing were the nondescript brown eyes, replaced by soft blue ones. "Is there something wrong?" she asked.

  He rose slowly, dropping his red pen. "I don't believe it," he murmured as he circled around her. Gone were the bulky sweaters and too-big skirts. Instead, she was dressed in a black, fitted pantsuit that hugged every generous curve, topped by a lace dress shirt. He smiled when he looked down. Her abundant breasts filled out the shirt, showing their creamy white tops. "I'm just amazed at the change," he said. "You look beautiful," he whispered, his fingers touching a golden tendril.

  "Thank you," she answered softly, her hand lifting to touch his.

  For a moment, their eyes locked. Long-dead emotions sprang to life; desire pulsated in the air around them. Each memory he had possessed of her stormed through his brain, making his body react like any mortal’s. "Part of you doesn't believe my words. I speak the truth, Elizabeth. You are a truly beautiful woman." He wanted to bend and kiss her, possessing those delicious lips just as he had previously, sipping a bit of her succulent wine.

  She pulled away as the fear flowed from her in waves. "I—I’m sorry, Raphael. I can't have lunch with you today." Her lids lowered but not before he caught the sight of tears moistening her eyes.

  His brow rose as her thoughts floated over to him as if on a cloud. "Are you frightened of me?"

  "Please, don't ask me any questions," she mumbled as she turned to leave. "Just forget I said anything."

  "Wait, Elizabeth," he called softly in that tone she couldn't resist even if she wanted to.

  She stopped and looked to him. "Yes?"

  "Why are you so frightened? I'm not going to do anything to you."

  "This is so silly," she said, wringing her hands. "I don't know why I thought if I changed, things would be different.”

  He held his hand up. "Stop right there. There is nothing silly about the change. It has brought your beauty to the forefront and I, for one, appreciate the change. You should, too." He offered and held out his hand. Obediently she took it, coming closer to him.

  Her gaze swept over him, as if searching for something. "I don't know why, I feel as though I’ve known you all my life. I can’t have, can I? We only met a short time ago."

  Raphael let his fingers dance along the edge of her smooth face, the skin reacting to his touch. "Do you believe in Fate?"

  She blinked hard, her delicately shadowed lids and lashes flashing in the sunlight. "For others. Not for me."

  "You should believe in Fate, Elizabeth, because that is what brought you back to me."

  Her brow wrinkled as confusion set in. "What do you mean?"

  "Meet me at Club Inferno tonight and I will tell you."

  "Why not tell me here?"

  Raphael's lips widened. Tonight would be the beginning of her seduction into his world. "Do you trust me?"

  Elizabeth nodded. "I shouldn't, though for some strange reason, I do."

  "Good. Meet me tonight and I will explain everything."

  * * * *

  The club seemed a little more alive since the last time she'd been here. Orange flames created by a super strobe danced up the walls and mingled with the shadows of the people on the dance floor. Gingerly, she wove her way through the crowd, trying not to attract too much attention. Unfortunately, she couldn't be missed.

  "Hey, baby, wanna dance?" called one guy she passed.

  Instead of answering him, she made her way to the bar amid the clouds of cigarette smoke, past the smelly bodies of the intoxicated partygoers.

  She sat down, placing her purse on the bar. Nervously, she looked around and didn't see any sign of Raphael. What exactly did he have to tell her?

  "What'll it be?" said the bartender, his eyes sweeping up and down her. Last time she had been here, he’d merely grunted his request and slammed her drink on the bar.

  "Sloe gin fizz," she said, ignoring his stare. Instead, she focused on her attire as he ambled off to get her drink.

  For tonight's excursion, she'd chosen to dress in all black. A beautiful black silk shirt with a tasteful fitted skirt and heels. Her newly blonde hair cascaded down her back in abundant curls. Gold glittered at her throat and wrists, shining brightly and highlighting her hair. For a brief second, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar. Was that really her?

  "Hey, lady, wanna dance?" slurred the drunken man staggering up to the bar. "Ish not nice to ignore someone."

  "I'm not interested, so please go bother someone else," she ordered and started to sip on her drink. The cool moisture slipped down her throat and would soon be calming the erratic nerves running through her body.

  "Hey, watcha, too good fer me?" he questioned, his hand descending on her shoulder and spinning her around on the stool. "I said I wanna dance!"

  Just as the fear held her, Raphael appeared, tall and darkly handsome in tight black jeans and a matching shirt. "Leave the lady alone," he warned in a deeply male tone.

  "Whatchoo gonna do about it, ashole?"

  "This." With that, Raphael manacled the man’s arm and twisted his wrist. The sound of snapping bones filled the air, mingling with the man's howls of pain as he sank down.

  "You son of a bitch!" the drunk shouted from the floor, "You're gonna pay for this!"

  "I take it you want me to break your other arm, too?" Raphael warned with his booted foot against the man's neck. Fear appeared in the man’s eyes and he drank in every drop of that lovely emotion.

  "Just let me go, buddy!"

  Liz was horrified at the scene and relieved at the same time that her knight in shining armor had shown up. "Please," she said to him, laying a hand on his arm. "Let him go."

  "As you wish," he replied and let the drunk go. The man moved a little. He heard Raphael’s dire warning. "You have the lady to thank for your reprieve. If I ever see you around her again, I'll break your legs as well."

  The man scrambled to his feet, holding his arm, and ran out of the club without looking back.

  Liz stared at Raphael then gave a quick glance around club. Why hadn’t a burly bouncer appeared to break up the commotion? It was as if no one noticed what was happening beside them. What was going on?

  Raphael looked at her, his dark green eyes expressionless. "Would you like to accompany me to a table?"

  "Sure," she said and got down off the barstool onto wobbly legs. What was it Raphael had to tell her?

  Chapter 4

  The table he chose lurked in the darker part of the club, popular with people who wanted to be alone. There was no light, only a few electric candles on the table, their dim glow useless. He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit down.

  "Thank you." Liz’s nerves ran riot. Desperately, she wanted her drink. Unfortunately, she'd left it at the bar. Damn, how was she going to get through this without a bit of courage?

  "What do you want to drink?"

  "Nothing." Despite the rawness of her nerves, she wanted to remain in control of the situation. There was no telling what would happen if she got drunk.

  Raphael sat down and drew his chair close to he
rs. "I don't want anything either," he commented as he picked up her hand. His touch made her flesh sing. "You have beautiful hands." She could hear him perfectly above the throbbing beat of the techno music as if it didn't exist.

  "Thank you, Raphael," she replied stonily as the awkwardness of the situation enveloped her.

  "You're not used to men touching you, are you?" His question was innocent yet it completely knocked her off balance.

  "I — I—"

  "Don't lie, Elizabeth," he murmured as he leaned close to her ear, his hands gently caressing her shoulders, her flesh burning under his fingertips. "Being a virgin, you wouldn't exactly be used to the touch of men."

  Her eyes widened. “I don’t think my personal life is up for discussion.” Thoughts whirled chaotically in her head. In her daytime fantasy, she told him she was a virgin but she had never spoken of it in reality. How did he know? “There is one thing I want to know from you.”

  “I’m not a virgin if that’s what you want to know.”

  She sensed his amusement at her expense but she chose to ignore it for the moment. “When you had that tussle back there with that drunk, no one seemed to notice. Anytime there’s a fight like that—”

  He leaned forward. “Magic,” he whispered. “I can work magic with my hands.” Raphael picked up her and touched the tips to his cold lips. “You have beautiful hands.”

  Raphael’s voice dripped honey laden promises her body demanded but she paid no attention. The less she fell for him, the easier it would be once he tossed her aside for some swimsuit model. She cleared her throat. “If there isn't anything you want to tell me, I'm leaving."

  "You don't want to leave me, Elizabeth," he murmured softly as he pulled her closer. "You don't ever want to leave me again."

  Without warning, any will left her, making her feel like an automaton. "No, I'm not leaving," she heard herself say.

  "I want to dance with you," he whispered as he pulled her to her feet. Obediently, she followed, unable to resist whatever crazy attraction drawing her to him.

  He guided her toward the dance floor, the crowd magically parting as they went. Bodies shifted to either side, as if the people around them paid no notice to what they were doing. She watched them in animated motion, their bodies moving very slowly. What was happening?

  Just as Raphael put a foot on the dance floor, the music changed to a low, slow seductive dance. Everyone on the floor cleared away and allowed them complete access. She looked around to see if anyone was going to help her. Everyone seemed to be in some sort of stupor, refusing to even look in her direction.

  What was happening?

  Was this all a dream or a nightmare from which she couldn't awaken?

  "Trust me, Elizabeth," he said gently as he pulled her to him. Rising, they floated to the middle of the dance floor and, with a sick realization, she knew her legs weren't in motion.

  The steady throb of music pulsated around them, the beat almost hypnotic. "Who are you?" she managed to say through stiff lips.

  "Your destiny." Raphael pulled her hard against to his taut body. His strong fingers dug into her ass as he ground against her. Instantly, her pussy dripped. His hard cock dug in between her legs, arousing her clit. Oh, God, if he only knew how bad she wanted him to fuck her! Her nipples turned to stone underneath her silk bra as she rubbed against him to the steady, low beat of the rhythmic music. His hand slipped down toward her eager breast. She threw her head back as he covered the mound with his palm, the globe fitting neatly into his hand. “You have the most magnificent breasts I’ve ever seen.” His lips brushed against her exposed throat and burned a hot trail of molten kisses down the hollow toward her collarbone. “I could savor your nipples forever.” Raphael’s deft fingers unbuttoned her blouse and before she could stop him, Raphael bent her backwards slightly, all the better to give him access to her tits. Slipping her bra up over her left breast, Raphael closed his lips around a ripe, luscious, supple point. His teeth scraped along the pebbled flesh, sending her spiraling out of control. Greedily, she dug her hands into his hair and pressed her tit further into his mouth. Raphael obliged with a hard suckle, his tongue swirling around the berry-sized button. Liz gasped, only dimly aware they were still inside the club. She didn’t care. They could all see what a magnificent lover Raphael was.

  Without warning, her senses returned. Her eyes flew wide open and she lifted her head to look at him. "Tell me who you are." Her dry lips cracked as fear stormed through her.

  Raphael released her breast and stood her back up, pulling her shirt together making sure all was covered up. "Your beloved." His fingers graced the side of her face. "I’ve searched for you endlessly. ”

  Confusion slipped through her as her fingers dug hard into his muscled shoulders. "What do you mean?"

  "I love you, Elizabeth. You were taken from me centuries ago," he said, his intense green eyes conveying the depths of his desire. "I've found you and I'll never let you go again."

  Pulses of sexual anticipation rippled through her, making her tremble. "What are you?" Her fear returned fourfold, making her shake even more. If he was claiming he was centuries old.

  Raphael's hand swept over her face. The terror that had seized her was replaced by a sweet bliss. "I'm a vampire."

  She blinked hard, the words sinking in. "They don't exist," she murmured as they danced to the sweet music that seemed to go on endlessly. "They're only a legend."

  He held her harder against him, his erect cock pressed to the softness between her legs, making her cunt drip with desire. "I'm taking you somewhere we can talk." He spun her around and led her to the table.

  Numbly she followed, unable to do anything except obey his commands. "Where are we going?"

  "Your place." He picked up her purse and took her toward the entrance, not even asking her permission or where she lived.

  She couldn't say anything though her mind screamed for her to stop. Why couldn't she resist his advances? Was it true that he was a vampire?

  Raphael ushered her past the throng of people out to his Jaguar parked over two spots. He opened the passenger door for her. "For you, my love." He gestured to the empty seat. "Your chariot awaits."

  "What about my car?" she heard herself say, the voice echoing from her throat strangely alien.

  "It will be waiting for you at home," he said as he urged her down into the seat and closed the door.

  With a swift movement, he was next to her, slamming his door hard. Raphael flipped the key in the ignition and started the engine. It purred with a life of its own and she listened to it, trying very hard to concentrate. Unfortunately, she couldn't.

  Raphael pulled out of the parking lot and zoomed north on

  Fillmore Street

  before exiting onto Zion Parkway

  in the direction of her house. As soon as he got the car into fourth gear, he reached over and grasped her hand, his fingers softly stroking her palm. "Soon we'll be alone and everything will be explained to you."

  At the moment, there was only one thought in her mind. "Are you going to kill me?"

  Light laughter escaped his throat. "Why would I kill you?"

  "If you are a vampire as you claim, you'll need blood to survive. Is that why you've chosen me? To be your next victim?" That question floated from her mind to her mouth with nothing in between to stop it. It was almost as if he silently commanded her to say what was on her mind.

  "No, my love. I want to protect you."

  "From whom? How do I know you're not going to take me back to my house and kill me?" Anger boiled beneath the surface, the instinct to survive starting to kick in.

  "I'll tell you when we get there," he said, his British-accented voice deepening, the underlying hint of danger rising.

  "No, I'm getting out of this car!" she screamed, the spell hanging over her all evening finally breaking. Taking the latch in her hand, she made a move to open the door. It budged a fraction of an inch before she heard the snap of Raphael's fing
ers behind her. The door slammed shut, locking as though it was welded shut. "Let me go!"

  "Not until you listen to me." He captured her and brought her fingers to his lips where he placed the softest of kisses. "Say nothing until we reach your apartment."

  As he said those words, that overwhelming calm returned, forcing her to sit docilely next to him. "That's better," he murmured as he zipped off Zion and onto

  LaRue Avenue

  . She sat with her gaze straight ahead, her hands in her lap. Liz felt like a woman trapped in her own body, unable to do or say anything. This man was going to take her back to her place and try to get her to buy the story that he was a vampire. Please! Vampires only existed in ancient legend and weren't real. She should know. She'd studied enough of the legends over the years to be able to decipher fact from fiction. Was this guy straight out of the nut ward?

  "Good, we're here," he announced as into her driveway. With horror, she saw her own car sitting there next to his. How the hell did it get here? That's it, she was having another one of her horrific nightmares. That must be the explanation for this.

  Raphael opened her door and held out a hand to help her from the car. "

  203 LaRue Avenue

  , I presume?" She nodded. "I've got your keys, so no need to worry about that," he said as he ushered her to the front door. "You know, we can get there a faster way." She turned and lifted her eyebrows. What in the hell was he talking about?

  "Like this," he said, snapping his fingers. Everything flashed around her, turning to a blur. Reds and blues blended until they were different hues of purple, while solid objects had no form, the very essence of life buzzing past.

  When it stopped, they were standing in the middle of her modest home. "You have a nice place, Elizabeth," he remarked casually as he tossed her keys into the bowl near the door, their usual parking place. He spun around. “You may speak.”

  "Don't call me Elizabeth. My name is Liz," she choked out, finally able to say something after the last few minutes.