And then she was gone, making her way through the crowded room with the grace of long experience, saying a word here, touching an arm there. She stopped to exchange a few words with Lucia who turned with a smile and leaned in to exchange air kisses. Adela Leighton was the perfect society matron in an elegant chiffon gown of muted emerald that brought out the green of her eyes. The same green eyes she’d passed on to her only grandchild.
Raphael tightened his hold, pulling Cyn closer and touching his lips to her temple. “What was that all about?” he murmured.
“You saw it, too?”
“I think that’s the longest conversation you’ve had with Adela since I met you. At least, at one of these things.”
Cyn stared after her grandmother, troubled and trying to talk herself out of it. It had been a few words, nothing more. But she couldn’t stop the chill of foreboding that snuck up her spine. She hadn’t heard of any health scares concerning either of her grandparents, but then she wouldn’t. Such things were held close to the vest in the Leighton family, doled out as stingily as affection. She frowned, but brushed it away. Hadn’t she just been thinking about her grandmother and how skilled she was at social mixing? She’d have known people would be watching, and they’d have expected her to talk to her own granddaughter. That’s all it had been. Conforming to social norms.
“You know,” she said, forcing a lightness in her voice that she didn’t feel, “when you asked me about Paris, I’d really hoped you meant the real thing.”
Raphael’s fingers tightened briefly on her hip. She couldn’t pretend with him. He knew her too well. But because he knew her so well, he didn’t pursue it. At least not in that moment. He pulled her around to face him. “I thought the Eiffel Tower replica was very convincing,” he deadpanned, jerking his head at the Paris-themed décor for the evening.
She grinned in relief. “Very funny. And just for that, you’re buying me that metal sculpture I bid on.”
“Is that what your flurry of sign-ups earlier was all about? These silent auctions seem rather cut-throat. Quietly, of course.”
She groaned. “You’re full of jokes tonight, aren’t you?”
“I have my moments.”
“Uh huh. So, did our French guy show?”
“In fact, he did. You see the young man over there, the one currently hanging on every word your father is saying?”
Cyn’s gaze shot across the room. She hadn’t realized her father was here. Not that it would have mattered. But Raphael was right. There was a guy leaning close, taking in every word her father said. He was young—no more than early thirties—tall and fit, blond and handsome. A little too handsome. Cyn tilted her head curiously. “Vampire,” she whispered. She considered going over to rescue her father, but couldn’t come up with a reason why she should. “Who is he?”
“His name is Tristan Fabrice, and he was Mathilde’s favorite assassin.”
“What?” she asked in alarm.
But Raphael continued, unperturbed by the identity of their visitor. “Rumor has it that Tristan has a new master, a vampire named Laurent Pierre. Laurent was one of Mathilde’s newer lieutenants, around 200 years old, give or take a few decades, and with the power and ambition to rule. Since her death, he’s been systematically killing off anyone who stands between him and her empty throne.”
“But is it really empty?” she asked. “Aren’t you officially the lord of Mathilde’s old territory, even though you don’t want it? Did you ever do that whole bonding thing you all do when you claim a territory?”
He shrugged. “Something like that. Too many vampires would have died if I’d left the territory completely unclaimed. It’s the same as Lucas did when he killed Klemens. He didn’t want the territory, but he protected its vampires by holding them until Aden officially became the new lord.”
“But why send an assassin? Wouldn’t a phone call have been easier?”
“Laurent came up in Mathilde’s court, which was a treacherous place to learn the ways of Vampire. She encouraged in-fighting and murder among her people. It kept their killer impulses focused on each other, instead of her.”
“So, Tristan really is here to kill you.”
“He’s here to try.”
“That’s what I meant. No one’s going to kill you on my watch.”
He dragged her close. “My favorite bodyguard.”
“You better believe it. Why’s he talking to my father?”
“Two possibilities. One, he thinks to gain information about our daily routines, which your father doesn’t have. Or, two, he plans to kidnap him to force your hand.”
“You mean, force me to betray you? Using my father?”
Raphael shrugged. “He doesn’t know you very well.”
“I’ll say. But we should at least warn—”
“Already taken care of.” He lifted his chin across the room, and Cyn turned to see Juro having a serious conversation with her father’s longtime bodyguard. She and her father might not get along, but his security chief would listen to Juro, one professional to another.
“So, what now?”
“The recent attacks were meant to draw my attention, to force me to pull my forces in and huddle behind my estate walls.”
“I don’t see much huddling going on,” she muttered loyally.
He smiled. “But they don’t know that. My point is that they’ve succeeded, at least insofar as they’re aware. Which means—”
“Which means they’ll focus their energies on their true target. Which is you. So why are we standing here?”
“What should we be doing instead?”
“Round up Tristan and his buddies, and kill ‘em all. That’s your prerogative, right? They’re foreign vamps on your soil who haven’t even bothered to check in with you, much less gain permission to be here.”
“We know they’re coming. Wouldn’t it be better to capture and question them first?”
It was on her tongue to add that Raphael would like that, that he enjoyed “questioning” prisoners, but she held back, even though it was true. It was in his nature, as a powerful vampire, to derive pleasure from torturing answers out of his enemies. But it also took him to a very dark place. She’d seen firsthand the kind of cruelty he was capable of. And while she understood that such savagery was necessary sometimes in the world of vampire politics and survival, it took a terrible toll on his soul. She couldn’t joke about something like that.
“Question them about what? You already know why they’re here. Why give them a chance to try?”
“And after I torture them? After they’ve told me their secrets, and kill them?” Raphael was saying, his manner detached, as if he’d already descended to that cruel place. “After I learn what I already know, do I let the insult go unpunished?”
“Insult?” she asked faintly.
“That they dared steal into my territory with assassination in mind. Others must be taught the price of trying.”
She stared up at him for a moment, before going up on her toes and kissing him as hard as she could. She put all the love and passion she felt for him into that one kiss, pressing her body against his, as if to share the life and warmth in her veins. Raphael’s arms circled her automatically, but it wasn’t until his embrace tightened, until his response to her kiss was as hot and passionate as her own, that she knew he was back.
“Raphael,” she whispered against his lips.
“Lubimaya.”
“I thought I’d lost you.”
“Never.” He kissed her again, neither of them caring about the disapproving looks they were getting from some of the stuffier guests at the gathering. “I believe we’ve accomplished our goal for this evening,” he murmured, holding her close enough that she could feel his erection against her abdomen.
She
forced a smile. “You still owe me that sculpture.”
He laughed out loud, drawing an entirely different sort of look from several of the women present. “I’ll make sure you get it.”
“Then, let’s go, fang boy. I have plans for you.”
“YOUR FAVORITE baby boy is here.” Cyn breezed into Raphael’s office two nights later, her long legs encased in black leather, hips swinging on the high heels of the boots she wore. She didn’t stop in front of his desk, but strolled around, pushed his chair back, and slid onto his lap. “Fortunately,” she continued, “he’s brought Kathryn with him, so I won’t be totally bored.”
“Oh, you mean Lucas,” Raphael said, as if he hadn’t understood exactly whom she’d meant before that.
“Ha ha, so funny. What evil doings are you two discussing tonight?” she asked, straightening his tie.
The tie had been fine, he was sure, but he loved that she felt the need to take such gentle care of him. He curled his fingers around her thigh, thinking of where he’d rather be at that moment.
“Stop that,” she whispered.
A smug smile curved his lips. His telepathy was very strong, and it had been a very detailed thought. “You wanted to know what evil doings I had in mind.”
“I don’t think that qualifies as evil anymore. We’re mated, which means anything goes.”
His eyebrows raised. “Anything?” He sent her another explicit image.
She sucked in a surprised breath, which had her full breasts swelling to press against his chest. “Say the word, baby. I’m all for it,” she whispered, her breath warm and moist against his ear.
Raphael laughed and hugged her close. He was still amazed sometimes that the fates had been kind enough to bring Cyn into his life.
“Get a room, you two.” Lucas strolled in and sat in his usual sprawl on the chair in front of Raphael’s desk.
“Good evening, Lucas,” Raphael said dryly.
He grinned and jumped back to his feet, giving a little bow. “Good evening, Sire,” he said, then shot Cyn a skeptical look. “Cyn.”
“Lucas,” she answered in the same vein. “What have you done with . . . well, I was going to say your better half, but that would imply you had a good one.”
He slumped back into one of the guest chairs in front of the desk. “Why is she here?” he asked Raphael.
“Because I want her here,” Raphael said mildly, giving Cyn a chiding hug when she stuck her tongue out at Lucas. “Can we return to business?”
“She started it,” Lucas muttered, then straightened somewhat and said, “You want to know what I think about Rajmund’s boy Quinn.” His tone was casual, as if he didn’t care. But Raphael wasn’t fooled. Lucas cared deeply about Ireland, and about whom Raphael chose to take on the island’s current lord. It was far more than a bit of ancestral land that bound Lucas to the country. Ireland was the only place that had ever defeated him. Though no one except Lucas saw it that way. He’d been only a small boy when his mother had died on the streets of Ireland, when his grandfather had chosen a political alliance over his own daughter, his only child. When he’d left his lands and title to cousins rather than acknowledge his bastard grandson.
Lucas took pleasure in the image of his grandfather rolling in his cold grave now that the bastard grandson was back and ruling his lands. But he still hadn’t exorcised his demons. Raphael knew he never would.
“You spoke with Rajmund,” Raphael said. It wasn’t a question. He knew that Lucas had consulted more than once with the Northeastern lord over the past week.
Lucas shrugged. “He wanted my opinion. I know Ireland better than anyone.”
“Well, maybe not anyone,” Cyn commented.
Lucas opened his mouth to respond, but his cell phone buzzed. “Kathryn’s on her way up,” he said, looking at the display. “She was on a call with her office.” He stood. “I’ll walk down and meet her.”
“Why do you torment him?” Raphael asked Cyn, once Lucas was out of earshot.
“Because he’s insufferably arrogant.”
“You’ve said the same about me.”
“Yes, but you’re mine. You should be arrogant.”
“Hmm. Lucas isn’t our only visitor tonight, you know.”
“Right. The new guy’s here for his audition. But you all don’t need me or Kathryn for that.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Quinn Kavanagh,” she said, as if tasting the words. “Sounds like a good Irish lad. Is he?”
“He has Lucas’s blessing.”
“That just means he likes to drink ‘til the bars close, then fuck until dawn.”
He smiled at her description. “Lucas doesn’t do that anymore. Besides, you don’t give him enough credit.”
“Oh, sure I do. Just not in public.” She grinned. “I know he’s a good guy. You don’t tolerate fools, no matter how much you love them.”
Her head lifted at the sound of voices from the hallway. Swiveling on his lap, she kissed him, taking her time about it, until they were both breathless.
“You be good while I’m gone,” she murmured, licking the seam of his lips.
“Where are you going?” His hand had slipped between her thighs while they kissed, and he left it there, soaking up the heat of her pussy.
“Shopping, of course. Lucas’s ranch is great and all, but Kathryn is looking for some serious retail therapy.”
“You’re not leaving the estate,” he cautioned. “Tristan’s been quiet, but you’re a desirable target.”
“Don’t I know it. Relax, we’re limiting ourselves to a newfangled experience called on-line shopping. We’re going to drink too much wine and log on. Elke’s coming with us, too. She’s become quite the shopper since she hooked up with Mal.”
Lucas’s laughter could be heard down the hallway, and then a woman’s voice. Probably Kathryn.
“Sounds like the fun times are over, fang boy,” Cyn purred, her tongue darting out to lick his ear.
Raphael gave her thigh another warning squeeze, reminding her that two could play that game. She just laughed and slid off his lap, then bent to give him a more decorous kiss. “Don’t wait up, honey.”
Raphael snorted. “I’ll hunt you down long before that becomes an issue.”
She grinned, then looked up as Lucas and Kathryn entered the room. “You ready to rock and roll, girl?”
“Yep. I saw Elke downstairs.”
“Excellent.” Cyn crossed the room to hook arms with Lucas’s mate. “Try not to have too much fun without us!” She blew Raphael a kiss, and then the two women were gone.
Lucas gazed rather longingly after them. When he turned finally and caught Raphael watching him, he laughed.
“You’d rather go shopping?” Raphael asked.
“No, but the rock and roll part sounds fun.” He sighed. “Oh, well. It’s a tough job being a master of the universe, but someone’s got to do it.”
“Sit down, and tell me what you think about Kavanagh.”
Lucas walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink before slumping back into the chair in front of the desk. “He’s easily the most qualified of the proposed candidates. It’s not about power. They all have enough power. But Quinn has roots in the land. That won’t matter to the vampires he’ll challenge and kill, but it will matter to the ones he’ll have to rule.”
“And your lands?” Raphael asked. “How does he feel about those? More importantly, how do you feel?”
“I won’t lie, Sire. My mother died for those lands, and I won’t surrender them to anyone. I’ll play nice with whoever takes over, whether it’s Quinn or someone else. But I want free passage. They’re not getting my lands.”
Raphael regarded him steadily. “Does Quinn know this?”
“Quinn knows because I told him
to his face, but I’ve made no secret of it to the others, either.”
Raphael smiled. He’d known Lucas from the time he was a raw sixteen-year old boy, picking pockets on the streets of London. He knew the vulnerable heart Lucas concealed from everyone else, except perhaps his mate, Kathryn. And he knew Lucas was dying to know whom Raphael had chosen to take Ireland. But he’d never ask the question.
“I agree that Quinn is our best choice,” Raphael said finally. “That’s why I invited him here.”
“I thought this was just an interview.”
“No. The interviews are over. I’ve spoken to him at length by phone, but tonight we’re discussing specifics.”
Lucas grinned. “You did that on purpose.”
“Of course. Someone has to keep your ego in check. Where is Quinn anyway?”
“How the hell do I know? We didn’t have a fucking sleepover.”
Raphael gave him a look.
“Yeah, fine. He flew in last night. I don’t know where he stayed—we don’t trust each other that much—but I bet the big guy here,” he said, gesturing at Juro who entered the office at that moment, “can tell me the exact minute he’ll be arriving.”
Juro glanced at him sideways and gave a discreetly disdainful sniff before turning to Raphael. “Quinn Kavanagh is at the gate, Sire.”
Lucas laughed. “I knew it!”
Raphael stood. “Bring him to the conference room.”
“Lucas or Quinn?” Juro muttered, proving what Raphael and a few others already knew—that the big vampire had a sense of humor.
“I’ll take care of Lucas, you bring Quinn,” Raphael said, playing along.
“Sire,” Juro responded formally and left the office, heading downstairs to meet their visitor.
“I don’t think he likes me,” Lucas said thoughtfully. Raphael wasn’t fooled. The two vampires had known each other for more than a hundred years. Lucas was older by several decades, and had, in fact, been with Raphael on the night that Raphael had turned Juro and his twin brother, Ken’ichi, making them vampires. But while Lucas and Juro baited each other mercilessly, it was in the way of brothers. Competitive in peacetime, but fiercely loyal at the first sign of danger.
Relentless: A Cyn and Raphael Novella (Vampires in America 11.5) Page 4