Craved: A Vampire Syndicate Paranormal Romance (The Vampire Syndicate Book 2)

by Rebecca Rivard

  I took a deep breath, reminding myself that to Zoe, this was an adventure, nothing more. A chance to escape her gilded cage for a few days.

  The princess might want to fuck me, but that was it. If I tried to make it anything more than that, I’d get my heart stomped, just like last time. She had too much to lose by mating with me.

  “Some birthday, huh?” I draped an arm around her shoulders. “You didn’t even get to eat your birthday chocolate. When we get to Paris, I’ll buy you a big box of salted caramel truffles.”

  Her shoulders tensed. I started to lift my arm, but she didn’t appear upset. More stunned, like nobody had ever put an arm around her. I settled the arm back onto her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” she told her folded hands. “I love truffles, and salted caramel is my favorite.”

  “I know.” I nudged her chin so that she had to meet my eyes. “I remember.”

  “Oh.” No smile this time. Even her eyes were cool.

  But I was starting to see beneath the mask. She was feeling uncertain.

  Because I had my arm around her? Or because I’d bothered to notice her favorite candy?

  I made a mental note to buy her a big box in Paris and feed them to her, one by one, until she was satiated, those soft, full lips smeared with the sweet confection.

  And then I’d paint her body with melted chocolate and take my time licking it off…

  I caressed her nape. The tension drained out of her in slow increments. She turned into me, laid her head against my chest. She smelled clean and lemony from her shower earlier.

  Her hand fluttered a few inches above my abdomen.

  I held my breath, waiting to see what she’d do. The hand came to rest on my stomach. She spread her fingers out, a light, tentative touch that I somehow felt everywhere.

  Something in me loosened, softened. The anger and hurt that for two years had fisted my gut every time I thought of her eased.

  I placed my hand over hers and pressed a kiss to her shiny black hair.

  15

  ZOE

  We had another two-seat row for the flight to France. Dinner was served soon after lift-off. Rafe ate both meals while I stuck with wine. We hunched down, shoulders touching, drinking cheap red wine from plastic cups and talking, low-voiced. Around us, sleepy-eyed humans watched movies or dozed.

  Rafe nuzzled my hair. I turned my face and kissed him.

  He’d warmed toward me, become more like the fun-loving, easy-going man I remembered. The kind of man who makes you believe in fairy tales and happily-ever-after.

  And I was eating it up, that needy part of me that Victorine said was too human craving his smiles, his kisses, his heat.

  I hadn’t been forgiven. I didn’t expect it. I’d let him take the fall for something we’d both planned, both wanted. Gods, what a coward I’d been.

  But maybe he’d decided to put what had happened behind us?

  I hoped so. I was pathetically eager for even a few crumbs of affection. To a starving woman, a mouthful can mean as much as a meal.

  “Mm,” Rafe said against my mouth. He ran a hand up my thigh. “I can’t wait until I get you alone.”

  “Yeah? And what will you do then?”

  He still wore a light glamour, but his expressions were all Rafe. His lopsided smile made my inner thighs tighten. “You’ll see.”

  I leaned closer, licked his jaw. Letting myself tease him.

  “Show me,” I dared.

  “So bad,” he mouthed against my lips, and slid his fingers between my legs, rubbing the seam of my jeans over my sex.

  My breath hitched. I widened my legs.

  He rubbed a leisurely circle over the seam, pressing just hard enough that tendrils of sensation teased my clit, heated my belly.

  My mouth opened. I gazed at him, heavy-lidded.

  His eyes were on my parted lips. “Gods, I want you.”

  He lowered his head and kissed me. Soft at first, then harder. His tongue pressed into my mouth, slow and deep, as his fingers continued playing with me lower down.

  When he removed his hand from between my legs, I whimpered.

  “Shh.” He stroked the hand up my waist, caressed my breast. “We can’t. Not here.”

  I sucked in my cheeks. “Damn you.”

  I was wet and so ready I almost didn’t care we were surrounded by people. But having sex on a plane—in our seats or in the washroom—was not the best way to stay under the radar.

  “I can’t help myself when I’m around you.” His gaze was still on the nipple he’d teased to hardness.

  “Yeah?” I must have sounded doubtful, because he met my eyes.

  “Truth.”

  I heaved a breath. “You really didn’t send those texts, did you?”

  “No.” Just that one word, but this time, I believed him.

  “I’m sorry. But I didn’t know you that well, and—”

  I’d chosen to believe my mother, because I couldn’t believe a man like Rafe would want me for myself.

  “Hey.” He cupped my cheek with a big palm. “It’s done.”

  “I tried to come and see you last year—to apologize. I had a flight that connected in New York, and I left the airport and took a taxi into Manhattan. But Jean-Michel caught up with me and convinced me it was a bad idea.”

  “Yeah?” Something flickered across his face. He shrugged. “I probably would’ve shown you the door.”

  My heart sank. “That’s what I figured.”

  “And then I would’ve caught you and dragged you back inside.”

  “Really?” A smile began deep in my chest.

  “Oh, yeah.” His lips were against mine now. “I’m not saying I would’ve been nice, but I would’ve fucked you, good and hard. Talk about an international incident. I would’ve tied you to the bed and not let you go for a month.”

  The smile broke through, happiness mixing with arousal in a dizzying brew. “This isn’t helping, Rafe.”

  It was his turn to heave a breath. He released me and sat back.

  “Strategy,” he muttered. “You said you have a plan?”

  “Okay.” I took a sip of wine and gathered my thoughts. “The first step is to go to Philippe’s mansion, see what I can find out. He has a lower level where he keeps prisoners. If he has your brother, that’s where he’d be.”

  “At his lair?” Rafe looked skeptical.

  “Yeah. Think about it—if his primus isn’t involved, Philippe will want to keep your brother close. He can’t risk another Paris vampire stumbling across him.”

  Rafe nodded slowly. “That makes sense. But what if Philippe tells your mother you’re in France?”

  My mouth edged up. “Maybe Victorine should contact him first.”

  It took him a few seconds, then he lifted a brow. “You mean, you’ll pretend to be her? I like it.”

  “Good. I’ll text Philippe as my mother and tell him that Zoe’s in Paris and will be stopping by. He won’t question it. I pretend to be her all the time.”

  “You don’t need a reason to visit him?”

  “Philippe?” I shook my head. “No. In fact, he’d be pissed off if I don’t stop by. Victorine always stays there when she’s in Paris.”

  “They’re lovers, right?”

  “Sometimes. She trusts him, that’s the important thing.”

  I pressed my lips together. I was telling him too much. There probably wasn’t much about me and my mother that the Krals didn’t know, but I didn’t have to hand it to him on a platter.

  I pulled back a few inches. Sipped my wine.

  Rafe finished his drink and set the plastic cup on the tray. A flight attendant appeared and whisked it up. “Another, sir?”

  “I’m good, thanks.” He gave her that sexy, cheek-creasing grin and she practically melted at his feet.

  “If you’re sure…”

  I rolled my eyes. The man was a freaking female-magnet. It didn’t matter what camouflage he hid behind. The flight attendant hadn’t
even glanced over to see if I wanted anything.

  I straightened. “That will be all,” I said in my best icicle voice. I may have inserted a smidgen of compulsion, too. But hey, I was annoyed.

  The flight attendant jolted and glanced at me like she’d forgotten there was anyone else in the row. “Yes, of course. But—” she leaned down so her breasts were practically in Rafe’s face—“just press the call button if you need me.”

  “Will do.” He gave her a distracted smile, clearly so used to women coming on to him that he barely noticed the mating dance she was practically performing in the aisle, turned back to me. She hesitated another moment, then left.

  “You can’t use your phone to contact Philippe,” Rafe said. “If they’ve put a tracker on it, they’ll find you the minute you put the SIM card back in.”

  “Doesn’t matter—I know her code. He’s used to her messages coming from different phones. I’ll buy a new SIM card when we land.”

  “Works.” This time, the sexy smile was turned on me.

  My stomach did a funny swooping-thing, but I like to think I hid it better than the flight attendant.

  “And you don’t have to buy a new SIM card,” he added, taking out his wallet. “I have an extra.” He handed me a tiny gold wafer.

  While I inserted it in my phone, he said, “What if Victorine’s already contacted Philippe and told him to watch out for you?”

  “I’ll have to take the chance. But my guess is that she’ll search Montreal and the surrounding area first, and when she doesn’t find me, the next thing she’ll do is go after your father. Accuse him of kidnapping me, or worse.”

  “Hell.” Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wanted to rescue my brother, not create an international incident.”

  I hesitated, but made myself say it. “I could just tell Victorine I’m on my way to Paris.”

  “How the hell would you explain skipping out on your birthday ball?”

  “I’ll say I needed time to think. I’m going to have to talk to her sooner or later anyway.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “Don’t contact her. She’ll just order you home.”

  I grimaced. “And if she doesn’t, Philippe will make me stay with him.”

  As Victorine’s sire, the enforcer took a proprietary interest in me. Not affection—Philippe wasn’t a warm-and-fuzzy kind of guy—but Victorine was the only one of his spawn who’d produced a spawn of her own. To Philippe, that made me his, in the way you own your dog’s pups.

  “So no contacting your mom. Unless—” his smile was sly—“you send your mom a message from somewhere else. Not France, another country. That would buy us some time.”

  “You can do that?”

  “I can. Even better, it will come from your own laptop. She’ll believe it. So. Where would you like to visit?”

  I grinned. “I’ve always wanted to go to Japan.”

  We landed in Paris a little early, but the sun was up by the time we made it through customs. The familiar heaviness weighed down my lids. I sagged against Rafe, who wasn’t at all sleepy. Sometimes I wondered why pureblood vampires like my mother were so contemptuous of dhampirs, because it seemed to me the Kral brothers had the best of both worlds.

  “Hang in there.” Dropping my sunglasses onto my nose, Rafe propelled me through the airport and stuffed me into a taxi while the driver put our luggage in the trunk.

  I hissed as the sunlight hit my skin. The sun was higher than I’d ever seen, and it hurt.

  Rafe swore and pulled my hoodie tighter around my face. He barked the hotel address at the driver in his American-accented French, adding, “Get us there in under fifteen minutes, and I’ll double the fare.”

  “Pas de problème.” The driver stomped on the pedal. The taxi lurched into motion, darting in front of a bus. The bus driver responded with an ear-splitting blast of his horn.

  I laid my head on Rafe’s shoulder. “Now you did it,” I mumbled.

  He chuckled as our driver charged onto the highway, weaving in rabbit-like bursts through the other vehicles.

  “Hang in there, Princess.”

  I frowned. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Call you what—Princess?”

  “Yeah. It’s not me. I’m Zoe. A person.” I could barely stay awake, but this was important. “Not a princess.”

  Warm lips touched my brow. “Got it, beautiful.”

  The short trip passed in a blur. I must have fallen into the day sleep because the next thing I knew, Rafe was dragging me out of the taxi. My tongue was thick in my mouth, and my skin felt hot, dry. Just being touched sent a jolt of agony clear to my bones.

  “We’re here. You just have to make it inside.”

  “I’m…fine,” I said through cracked lips, and made the mistake of opening my eyes. The sunlight seared them even through the dark glasses. I cringed and flung up a hand to shade my face.

  “Yeah, right,” he said.

  I closed my eyes and tried not to groan.

  Rafe handed the driver a hundred-euro note. He thanked Rafe—twice—and zoomed out of the parking lot.

  Our check-in was mercifully quick. Rafe hustled me into the elevator and down the hall to our room. Even a light touch was painful on my burned skin, but as the day sleep took me deeper, I couldn’t move on my own. I grit my teeth and bore it.

  Rafe had me wait outside while he closed the curtains. By the time he returned, I was sitting on the floor, slumped against the doorjamb. He swung me into his arms and tucked me into bed.

  The last thing I remembered was him easing me out of my clothes. He pressed a cool, wet rag to my face and cracked lips.

  “Sleep, cher. I’ve got you safe.”

  At least, I thought that’s what he said. But I might have dreamed it.

  When I woke up, Rafe was slouched on the room’s only chair in a black T-shirt and boxer briefs. He’d dropped his glamour to be his own dazzling self. His dark curls were damp from a shower, his jaw shadowed with sexy stubble.

  And he was frowning over my laptop.

  I propped myself up on my elbows. I’d healed during the day, although my eyes still hurt from the burn they’d received, and I needed to feed soon.

  “Learn anything?” I asked dryly.

  “That your password is too easy to crack.” He showed me the screen, which he had open to Finder and my files.

  I shrugged. “Those aren’t the important ones.”

  I rose from the bed, stretched. This time he’d stripped me down to my bra and the boyshort panties.

  Rafe’s gaze snapped to me. His eyes darkened. He shut the laptop, set it aside.

  A thrill shot straight to my womb, a thrill of desire mixed with power. That skinny, sheltered Zoe Tremblay could pull that look from gorgeous, bad-boy Rafe Kral.

  “C’mere.” He crooked a finger.

  I crossed to him, and he pulled me between his legs. “Where were we?” He shaped my hips with his hands.

  “Hm. Let me think…” I set my hands on his thighs and leaned forward to kiss him. “Here.”

  Strong fingers cupped my nape, pulling me closer. When we came up for air, he dragged me onto his lap.

  “Lift your arms,” he told me and pulled off my bra. “Actually, I think we were here.”

  He leaned me backward over one arm. His mouth latched onto my nipple. He sucked strongly.

  “You might be right,” I managed to say.

  His erection prodded my hip. I squirmed against it. I was so wet, so primed for him, and he’d barely touched me.

  “Remember my promise?” he asked, and nipped my nipple.

  Anticipation shivered through me. Anticipation, and excitement. “I do.”

  He rumbled his approval like a big cat. “Good.”

  After that, things got beautifully hazy. He kissed and suckled my other nipple.

  I sat up and pulled off his T-shirt. Ran my hands over his powerful chest and shoulders. Scraped my fingernails through the wiry black hair on his chest.
Followed the sexy trail down his taut stomach and into his boxer briefs.

  I cupped his cock with one hand. It was hot and heavy.

  He gave a growl of pleasure.

  I squeezed harder, enjoying how his eyes slit. “You like that.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  He pulled my thighs over his so I straddled him, his cock rubbing against me through the thin barrier of my panties and his boxers. He speared his fingers into my hair, pulling my head back so my neck was exposed to him and kissed his way along my collar bone to the center of my throat.

  I surfaced from the haze and froze.

  “Shh.” He stroked my face with his free hand. “I won’t do anything you don’t want, cher. You trust me, don’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “Say it. Say I can taste you. I’ll just take a little.” He ran his fangs over my jaw. So gently. Almost reverently.

  I swallowed. I’d never let anyone feed from me. But I’d wondered. I’d seen the blissed-out look on thralls’ faces, heard them speak of the blood-high.

  And I wanted to please Rafe, wanted the connection that letting him drink my blood would bring.

  I’d hesitated too long.

  He pressed a kiss to my throat. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  I didn’t say anything, because a part of me agreed. The sensible, too-damn-realistic part that knew this thing between us couldn’t go anywhere.

  He stood up with me still in his arms and placed me on the bed’s crumpled white sheets. My panties came off, and his boxer briefs.

  He knelt on the mattress, his legs on either side of my hips.

  He was so beautiful, a sex god with smooth tan skin, ripped abs and hooded dark eyes—and a black wolf tattooed above his left hip bone.

  He’d been made as a Kral enforcer.

  My heart dipped. It was like the universe was hammering home how temporary our time together was.

  His gaze dared me to say something.

  I managed a smile. “Congratulations. When did this happen?”

  “Last year.”

  “Ah.” I nodded.

  He eyed me oddly. “That’s all? Congratulations?”

  “What do you want me to say?” I traced the dusting of black hair down his taut stomach to his cock. It was hard and flushed, a dark, suckable red. I ran my fingertip around the cap and down to his root.