Lachlan

by D. B. Reynolds

  Cyn gave her a big grin and made a “pew pew” noise as she shaped her hand into a gun and shot it around the room.

  Julia shook her head. “I don’t need an extra gun. I’m sure Lachlan’s cousins have more than a few hanging around.”

  Cyn flopped back onto the couch. “We could go to the shooting range. We can’t do anything serious about this plan of yours until Raphael and Lachlan finish talking.” The way she said the last word made her attitude clear, but a moment later, she was stretching out like a lazy cat, her feet practically in Julia’s lap, her head on a big throw pillow. “Since you won’t let me kill anything, let’s talk about Lachlan. I want details.”

  Julia would rather have discussed killing vampires. “There are no details.”

  “Don’t give me that. You may not curse much anymore, but you’re not a nun, either. I mean, come on. Look at the man!”

  “Lachlan is . . . tempting,” she admitted. “I’m not blind. I know he’s gorgeous. And he’s smart. You know how much I like brains in a man. But . . . it’s a risk. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” She looked up. “I don’t want any more pain, Cyn.”

  Cyn sighed. “You have to let that go, Jules. You have to move on.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. And I will . . . as soon as Erskine Ross is dead.”

  LACHLAN BREATHED a private sigh of relief when Julia left the room. She thought she was ready to take part in Erskine’s assassination, but it was one thing to desire a person’s death, and quite another to strike the death blow, to watch your enemy’s life blood spurt thick and red from the wound, to see his guts spilling over desperate hands in steaming heaps while he tried to hold them in. To watch life fade from his eyes. They never got that part right in movies. A man’s eyes didn’t close peacefully in death or stare blankly into space. The lids rolled up and a film covered their eyes until there was no question of life remaining. More than anything, it was the eyes that had haunted Lachlan when he’d killed his first man. It was so long ago that he’d still been human, but the details were as vivid as ever.

  Of course, vampires simply dusted before their eyes could do anything.

  “Why are you here?”

  Lachlan didn’t react when the sudden question interrupted his musings, just cursed himself for getting lost in useless memories. If he didn’t want to join his unmourned dead, he needed to pay attention. Raphael had been the very picture of polite sophistication up until this point, but now that it was just vampires in the room, all bets were off. This was no time to fuck around, but to simply come out and speak the truth.

  “I’m going after Erskine. He’ll be dead within the month.”

  Raphael tipped his head sideways. “I don’t know Erskine personally. What I do know of him isn’t terribly impressive, so I don’t really care what happens to him. But just out of curiosity, and since you came all this way, is he a bad lord, or simply too weak and incompetent?”

  Lachlan concealed his surprise at the question. It must be a slow news day in Malibu, because vampires didn’t give a shit about who died and who lived, unless it affected them personally. That’s why he was here, after all, to make sure Raphael didn’t have any designs on Scotland. He had no need to justify killing Erskine, otherwise. But since he had come all this way, he’d answer.

  “Erskine’s a bad ruler. He hoards the territory’s riches for himself and his few cronies, while requiring tithes from even the smallest shopkeeper. But when that same shopkeeper comes to him for investment to expand, or for protection against a stronger vampire, he sends them away. I can’t name the last time he invested in a new vampire enterprise that didn’t benefit him personally. He claims there’s not enough money, but I’ve done the math and there is. He’s using it for himself and hiding what he can’t use. I don’t know his motives. Maybe he plans on a peaceful retirement. If so, he’s going to be disappointed.” Lachlan met Raphael’s black gaze and smiled slightly. “But I’ll be honest, Lord Raphael. I’d kill the fucker even if he was the best vampire lord in the universe. It’s personal for me. He owes my clan a debt of vengeance, and I’m going to claim it.”

  Raphael nodded silently. “Then I’m confused. What does this have to do with me?”

  Lachlan would have laughed if the stakes hadn’t been so high. The vampire lord knew exactly why he’d come to Malibu, but he wasn’t going to help Lachlan make this any easier. Bastard. “Let me be blunt, then,” he continued, forcing himself to maintain his casual posture, the very picture of confidence and unconcern. “We all watched the recent events in Ireland with great interest. Scotland’s not so far away, so what happens in Ireland is very relevant to our own piece of earth.”

  “Relevant how?”

  “Relevant as in everyone knows you backed Quinn.”

  “Do they?” The two words sounded almost like a threat coming from Raphael, but Lachlan refused to be cowed.

  “They do. I do. We also know you’ve had problems with some other European lords who thought to expand their territories at your expense.”

  “Not only mine.”

  “No. It was all of you here in North America. So we weren’t surprised when you blew up the balance of power in France, or even when you put your boy in Ireland.” He met Raphael’s eyes across the wide expanse of his desk. “This is a courtesy call, Lord Raphael. I intend to take Scotland. I’d much rather be, if not friends, then at least not enemies, either. But I will kill anyone you send to oppose me, whether it’s in support of Erskine or simply a candidate of your own. Scotland is mine.”

  “Is that a threat?” Raphael’s eyes were the cold of a moonless winter night.

  “Not at all. Simply the truth. I would, frankly, hope to ally with Quinn. Our countries have much in common, and we could help each other with issues that are unique to our people, to vampires. I would even expand that alliance to fight alongside you and Quinn against the old guard in Europe. Too many of them are stuck in the ancient ways that hold our people back, deny them the prosperity that could be theirs. But Scotland belongs to the Scottish. That much is set in stone.”

  “England would differ,” Raphael said dryly.

  “Humans and their governments are irrelevant.”

  “Until they make war on vampires,” Juro said, speaking for the first time.

  Lachlan glanced up at him. “Which has not happened in more than a thousand years. Even then, it was the sorcerers who led the charge. And where are they now? While vampires are so numerous they’ve taken to stealing each other’s territories. Or trying to.”

  “Sorcerers are still out there,” Raphael commented, then lifted one hand in a negligent gesture. “Although in significantly smaller numbers.”

  “My point.”

  “Yes,” the vampire lord agreed. “What about Julia Harper?”

  Lachlan’s attention sharpened. “Julia?”

  Raphael gave a small, indulgent smile. As if he already knew everything there was to know about Julia, and wanted to see if Lachlan had done his homework. That pissed him off. He was too smart to show it, but he wasn’t some raw schoolboy come to plead his case before the big vampire. No one here—not Juro or his twin, and not Raphael—had yet tasted the full strength of his power. He wasn’t Raphael’s match. No other vampire currently alive had that kind of power. But Lachlan would be a fucking strong vampire lord. He could rule the entire United Kingdom, if he chose. That he didn’t intend to was a matter of his choice, and it irritated the fuck out of him to be treated like some beggar come calling.

  “Julia works for the CIA,” he said coolly, “which has nothing to do with why she’s here.”

  “No? Why is she here?” There was an edge to Raphael’s tone that said this was the nub of why the vampire lord had insisted she fly to Malibu. He wanted to know if the American government was prying into his affairs.

  “E
rskine killed someone important to her, someone she loved.”

  Raphael grew very still. “A family member?”

  “A boyfriend,” Lachlan corrected, surprised by how much it grated to admit that. “To my knowledge, her only living family is her father. Your mate probably knows more than I do.”

  “Yes.” It was one word, but it made clear that any further discussion of his mate or what she might know was off the table. Raphael exchanged a glance with his two advisors, then said, “Are you going to permit Ms. Harper to do this?”

  Lachlan almost laughed at the assumption he could control Julia. Not that he wouldn’t try. “To be involved? She already is. She was ready to take off on her own when I met her. But to kill Erskine? No. Not least because I need to do it.”

  Raphael stood with a smile. It was the first genuine smile Lachlan had seen from him since Leighton had left the office. “Rest assured I have no sights set anywhere but on my own territory,” he said. “As for Quinn, when last we spoke, he had his hands full undoing decades of damage his predecessor had inflicted on Ireland. You have that in common, and he might very well make a good ally for you in the future. I’ve learned to value such alliances lately.” He turned to address Juro. “We’ll move to the conference room. Ask Jared to join us.” He turned back to Lachlan. “My lieutenant. He and Juro are very talented when it comes to strategic matters. And we might as well invite my Cyn and Julia Harper back in to the discussion. It’s quite pointless to try to protect such strong women.”

  Lachlan had come to his feet when Raphael did. “That’s very generous. Thank you, my lord.”

  Raphael waved a hand as he headed around the desk. “You were right about too many of our people being stuck in the past. The rest of us have to join forces if we’re to drag vampires into a stronger future.” He pulled a slender cell phone from the breast pocket of his elegant suit and pressed a single digit. “My Cyn,” he greeted. “Would you and your friend like to join us in the conference room?”

  THE MEETING DIDN’T end until an hour before dawn. Lachlan was convinced that Juro and Jared could have happily gone on much longer. To say they knew a lot about strategic planning was a vast understatement. They not only knew it, they loved it. They were obviously both fans of military history and had a story for every possible scenario that they, or anyone else, could dream up. Lachlan was grateful for their willingness to help, but he’d come all this way to get Raphael’s word that he wouldn’t interfere in Scotland, not for military advice. He knew his territory as well or better than anyone else, and he certainly knew his people better. More than that, they trusted him to lead them, to value their lives as much as he did his own.

  And now that he’d done what he’d come to Malibu for, he wanted to get back home. Unfortunately, given the unreliability of traffic conditions between this estate and the airport, it was too late to reach the safety of the Harper jet before sunrise. Besides which, under those circumstances, it would have been scurrilously impolite to reject Raphael’s offer of safe haven.

  Julia leaned into his side as he walked her to the bedroom she’d been assigned for their stay. Truth was, he’d have rather had her in the vault with him, but since they weren’t even lovers—yet—he didn’t want her to be trapped in a locked vault with no escape. It had been different on the jet. She’d had the option of leaving at any time.

  He smiled, enjoying the warm length of her body against his, but even more than that, he appreciated the casual way she leaned into him, with his arm around her shoulders. As if they were already lovers. “Tired, princess?”

  She didn’t even comment on the “princess,” but only nodded her head with a wordless hum of agreement.

  It made him grin, and then nearly miss a step when he realized he enjoyed simply being with her, even though they weren’t lovers yet, and weren’t going to start tonight either. He frowned and decided that was going to change. He had no intention of getting stuck in some weird friend zone with this woman. He didn’t want sparkling conversation with her, or not only that, he wanted to hear her scream while he thrust between her silky thighs, going deeper and harder than any man had ever gone before. Including the permanently sainted Masoud.

  She stopped outside a door that was just like every other door on the corridor, and looked up at him. He crowded her a little bit, not enough to threaten, but enough to make her aware of him as a man. Her look turned solemn, and when she spoke, it was in a whisper. “Will you be safe here?”

  He gazed down at her, keeping his expression every bit as solemn as hers, and asked, “Are you worried about me?”

  Her mouth tightened. She was obviously uncomfortable having asked, and didn’t realize he was teasing.

  He stroked a finger down her velvety cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re sure? I can stay with you, if you need me to,” she said, sending a searching glance down the hall and looking embarrassed as hell while doing it. He was going to have to teach his princess how to hide what she was thinking before they went up against Erskine.

  “I’ll be fine,” he repeated. “But thank you.” He had a terrible urge to kiss her, but didn’t honestly know if he’d be able to stop. And the coming dawn was an increasingly hot brand on the back of his brain. He reached behind her and twisted the door knob. “If you go out with Leighton tomorrow, take a bodyguard.”

  She rolled her eyes, but said, “Raphael insists Cyn do that, too, so we’re covered.”

  “So you are going out.”

  “Probably. Cyn’s a world-class shopper. I’ll just tag along for the experience.”

  “Well, buy some warm clothes while you’re there. It’s going to be wet and cold when we get back to Scotland.”

  She frowned. “I have plenty of clothes for London at the apartment.”

  “But we’re not going to be in London, princess. We’re heading for the Highlands.” He winked. “See you tonight.”

  And then he did what he’d told himself not to do. He leaned in and took her mouth. Her lips were as soft as he’d known they would be, opening in welcome as she gripped his shirt. He pressed closer, one arm going around her waist, the other up her back, his fingers tangling in her hair as her head tipped back farther, exposing the lovely line of her neck. His cock twitched and he knew he had to stop, but first . . . his tongue swept into the warmth of her mouth. She met him with tentative twists of her tongue in response, growing more frantic as the kiss went on, until finally Lachlan tightened his hold on her hair and gently pulled his mouth away from hers.

  “Bad timing,” he breathed against her lips.

  “Right.” She was out of breath, which pleased him no end. She licked her lips, and he had to bite back a groan.

  “Tomorrow night,” he murmured. “We have that big bed . . . and a long flight back to Scotland.”

  “Tomorrow,” she repeated, her fingers still clenching his shirt, as if she couldn’t let go.

  He kissed her again, gently, but closed his teeth over her lower lip before letting go. “Be safe.”

  “You, too.”

  “I’ve gotta go, love. Or they’ll lock me out.”

  “Right.” She loosened her hold, stroking her hands over his shirt as if to smooth out the wrinkles she’d caused. “Where will I meet you?”

  “I’ll call as soon as I wake.”

  “Right. Cell phone.” She smiled. “I’m going now.” She pushed on the already opened door and backed into the room.

  “Close the door. Lock it.”

  She shook her head in mock disgust, but blew him a kiss before closing the door. He waited until he heard the click of a lock, then strode quickly down the hall to a stairwell that Juro had pointed out to him, the one leading down to the vault. Once there, he strode down a second short hall to the vault entrance, where another vampire waited.

  “Lachlan McRae?” t
he vamp confirmed. “This way,” he said when Lachlan nodded.

  Three minutes later, he was closing and locking the door on a very private, and very comfortable, sleeping chamber. He stripped off all but his boxer briefs, not wanting to show up tomorrow night in a wrinkled suit, then slipped under the covers just as the sun crested the horizon.

  JULIA LAY IN THE big bed and watched the pale gray light of morning sneak over the ocean. She considered closing the drapes, but that would involve climbing out from beneath the warm covers. She’d much rather lie there, staring up at the ceiling and replaying that kiss. Had it meant something? Lachlan seemed like such a blank slate much of the time. He had to have emotions just like anyone else, but he kept them so well hidden. Oh, sure, he could be sarcastic, cynical, even clever. But that kiss . . . had it been nothing more than counting coup? Proving that she wanted him? It hadn’t felt that way. His body had certainly been a willing participant. His erection had been impossible to miss. She pushed the covers down a fraction as heat raced over her face and chest, leaving her damp with perspiration. What the fuck was that? She was too young for hot flashes, wasn’t she? But her nipples were hard and her chest wasn’t the only thing damp. So. Not a hot flash, but a Lachlan flash. Just great.

  She threw the covers all the way back, got up and pulled the drapes, then headed for the bathroom and a shower. She stripped off her sleep shorts and tank, and was reaching for the water controls, when she stopped. A hot shower wasn’t going to make anything better. It might even make it worse. She stood there naked, then decided. She was going for a run. It had been ages since she’d run on the beach, and the sand made for an excellent workout. If she had to sweat, then she was going to get something out of it besides sexual frustration.

  She was halfway down the steep stairs below the cliff when she heard Cyn call from above.

  “Hey, Jules, wait for me!”

  She watched her friend skip downward and felt the tiniest bit of jealousy. Julia was a pretty woman, some would say more than pretty. But there’d always been an effortless quality to Cyn’s beauty. She didn’t need makeup or an expensive haircut to draw attention. Cyn could be wearing grubby shorts and a t-shirt, hair yanked unstylishly into a ponytail, and heads would still turn. Maybe it was nature’s compensation for having such a nightmare family life. Julia had lost her mother and brother, but at least she had memories of them, and she still had a dad who loved her without question.