Relentless: A Cyn and Raphael Novella (Vampires in America 11.5)

by D. B. Reynolds

  Even before tonight’s attack, Raphael had been determined to take the war back to the Europeans. It was the whole reason for Quinn’s strategy in Ireland. But now, it appeared that some, or all, of France’s vampires—and there were nearly fifty big and small territories in France—had offended Raphael mightily enough that he was willing to commit the ultimate crime in the vampire world. He was going to pay a “visit” to someone else’s territory, unannounced and uninvited. It was an act of war if the affected French lords chose to see it that way. And, why wouldn’t they? An unwelcome visit from the most powerful vampire on earth?

  Christ, the French vamps would go ballistic when they heard about it. So would Raphael’s security team.

  “Quinn?”

  He looked up at Raphael’s prompting. “As distractions go, my lord, it would be like dropping a nuclear bomb on the Eiffel Tower.” He glanced at Lucas, who was still staring at Raphael. “I share Lucas’s concerns, but if you’re determined to do it, then it would certainly make my life easier. Not that you’ve any obligation in that regard.” Vampire politics. One had to be so very careful with words.

  Raphael bared his teeth in a predatory grin. “What do you think, my Cyn?” he asked.

  The woman’s smile was every bit as terrifying as Raphael’s. “Do I get to kill some vampires?”

  Raphael laughed. “It looks like we’re going to Paris.”

  THERE WERE DETAILS to be discussed after that. Kathryn went back to the guest suite that she and Lucas shared, while Cyn retreated to the alcove off Raphael’s office, with its fireplace and the sound of the ocean pounding the cliffs just outside. She dragged her laptop open to get some work done, while the predicted arguments droned on in the other part of the office.

  Lucas’s protective instincts verged on tedious when it came to Raphael, and Cyn wondered for a moment if she was that bad, too. Nah.

  Raphael’s lieutenant, Jared, and Juro, too, entered the fray, but only briefly. They were as driven as Lucas in their zeal to protect Raphael, but their relationship with him had clearly defined boundaries. He was their Sire and their lord. They would argue their position, but, in the final analysis, they would do whatever he decided. Whereas Lucas knew no bounds at all.

  Quinn had long ago exited the discussion. He’d said his farewells and returned to Juro’s house just down the beach from Raphael’s, where, Cyn knew, he’d slept the previous day. It was too late for him to fly back to New York tonight, and Raphael wouldn’t condemn any vampire to sleeping on a plane when it wasn’t necessary. Besides, Quinn might be an erstwhile ally—a relationship apparently strengthened by his performance tonight—but he was also a powerful vampire. And Raphael was a control freak. Juro’s place was close, and, more importantly, it was guarded by Raphael’s own people, so he’d always know Quinn’s whereabouts.

  Cyn listened to Lucas’s earnest reasoning and knew Raphael was only half tuned in. She could tell by the feel of his mind against hers, and by his occasional absentminded hum of agreement. His mind was already set. She’d known that the moment he’d asked her what she thought. But he was letting Lucas talk, mostly for his own peace of mind, probably hoping the younger vampire would eventually talk himself around to Raphael’s point of view. But after more than an hour of it, she’d had enough.

  “Okay, that’s it,” she announced. She snapped her computer shut and stood. Striding over to Raphael, she took his hand and pulled him to his feet. “Good night, Lucas. You know where to go. Or you should. Kathryn’s waiting for you there, you idiot.”

  Lucas looked briefly chagrined, and maybe a bit guilty, before his expression returned to its usual confident charm. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “Not trying, doing. Go.”

  Raphael snickered as she made shooing motions with her free hand.

  “Jared will have preliminary details tomorrow night,” Raphael told Lucas. “Quinn’s flying back to New York at sunset, but you know enough about his planning, and about Ireland itself, to help with our strategy.”

  Lucas gave him a resigned look. “You’re really going to do this?”

  “I am.”

  “Fuck. All right, but if anything happens to you, I get this house.”

  “The hell you do,” Cyn muttered, wrapping a possessive arm around Raphael’s waist.

  Raphael kissed the top of her head. “Good night, Lucas.”

  “Sleep well, Sire,” he said with a lift of his chin. “You, too, I guess,” he said to Cyn, then turned with a grin and strolled out of the office.

  “Whew. I thought he’d never leave.” Taking Raphael’s hand again, she tugged him toward the bookcase that hid the elevator to their downstairs quarters. “You made promises, fang boy.”

  “Did I?”

  “Big promises,” she said over her shoulder, as she flicked the switch to rotate the shelves out of the way, then entered the code for the elevator.

  “Well, I am—”

  She covered his mouth with hers and dragged him into the elevator, not coming up for air until the doors opened on their private quarters. She didn’t have Raphael’s innate sense of time, but she knew sunrise wasn’t far off. He laughed as she tore at the buttons on his shirt, trapping her against his chest and pulling her in for a hard kiss. She growled against his mouth and bit his lip. “Take that off,” she ordered, then went to work on his belt buckle.

  He ignored her command, grabbing the bottom of her sweater instead, pulling it off over her head, and working the front closure of her bra, as he backed her toward their bed. Cyn’s legs hit the edge in the same instant that he lifted her by the waist and tossed her onto the mattress. He was on her a moment later, tugging her boots off, stripping away her leather pants . . . to reveal nothing but naked Cyn underneath.

  Raphael’s gaze rose slowly to meet hers, his eyes molten silver, his expression lazy, hungry, and pure alpha male.

  “Mine,” he snarled.

  Cyn’s heart thumped as she let her legs fall open. “Prove it.”

  RAPHAEL WENT TO one knee between her thighs and cupped her sex with his hand, grinding his palm against her clit as he shoved two fingers into her pussy, hissing at the fiery heat, the slick cream of her arousal.

  “No panties, my Cyn?” he bent low to whisper in her ear. “Were you wet all night long, letting the leather seam scrape your clit whenever you moved?”

  She lifted her head, mouth open to snarl something back at him, but he scraped his thumb over her clit at that moment, and she cried out instead, falling back as erotic pleasure rippled visibly over her body.

  Raphael leaned on his heels, unzipping his pants as he admired the beauty of Cyn in the throes of sexual arousal. Her back was arched upward, her heavy breasts swaying as her fingers gripped the sheets. He bent over, enticed by the plump ripeness of her nipples, sucking first one, then the other, until they were swollen with blood, pulsing against his tongue and begging to be bitten. His fangs slid from his gums to scrape over her nipple and along the side of her breast, until the sharp, tantalizing scent of her blood filled the air.

  Cyn’s fingers tightened in his hair when he licked up the delicious dark honey, his tongue deliberately rough as he stroked over her delicate flesh, lingering on the throbbing peak of her nipple. She groaned, her thighs tight around his hips as she thrust upward, wanting his cock, wanting to fuck. Raphael chuckled and covered her with his body, holding her down as he bit and sucked her breasts, as his fingers played her pussy like a fine instrument, feeling her sheath clench, smiling at her wordless cries of frustration. Until finally, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled, gripping her hips as she straddled him, her expression furious and intent as she reached for his cock and fit it to her pussy.

  Raphael only smiled and held her still, with the tip of his penis barely touching the silky heat between her thighs. She growled
as she fought for control, her hair wild around her flushed face, eyes flashing with anger and desire.

  Without warning, he released her hips. She slammed down onto his cock, crying out as he filled her all at once, delicate tissues straining around his sudden invasion, trembling as they stretched to accommodate his thickness. She’d been slick and wet, from her earlier climax and fresh arousal, but still . . . he was a big man.

  He watched her, fingers tightening on her hips once more, as she panted, eyes closed, her gorgeous breasts moving with every breath. She licked her lips, the movement of her tongue a slow tease. He fought against the desire to pull her down and suck it into his mouth. And then her green gaze settled on him, and she smiled. She began to move slowly, rotating her hips, rolling her pussy around his cock, grinding her clit against his pubic bone.

  Raphael slid his hands up over her ribs to her breasts, pinching her nipples between thumb and forefinger, hard enough to hurt. But it was a sweet pain, an erotic pain that made her pussy pulse around his cock, still filled so completely that she could barely move. But her body was slowly adjusting, her inner muscles relaxing, until finally he could feel her slick heat around his shaft, lubricating her pussy until her sheath was shivering in anticipation, tiny muscles flexing, stroking his cock, urging him to orgasm, to claim her, male to female. His cock grew harder at the thought. He was the only one who’d be claiming his Cyn. No cock but his would stretch her delicious pussy, no other would make her scream.

  She groaned and lifted slightly, her thigh muscles working as she struggled to relieve the growing pressure of his shaft. Raphael dug his fingers into her hips hard enough that her eyes snapped open to meet his. Holding her stare, he lifted her up and began thrusting.

  She leaned forward, her hands braced on his forearms as she reached for balance, a protest dying on her lips as her pussy suddenly clenched around his cock in rippling waves of orgasm. Her gasp of surprise became a helpless cry of pleasure, as Raphael took over, rolling her to her back and pushing her knees to her chest as he slammed into her, fucking her hard, driven by his own threatening climax, by the swell of his cock and the building heat in his balls. Cyn’s nails dug into his shoulders and warm blood trailed over his skin, the pain adding to his arousal, feeding the violence in his soul that told him to take her, fuck her, mark her.

  With a fierce snarl, he fisted his hand in her hair and yanked her head to one side, pulling the skin of her neck into a smooth curve, the line of her vein into a plump invitation to drink what was his alone.

  Without warning, he snapped his head down and sank his fangs into her vein. Rich blood flowed, filling his mouth, gliding down his throat. Cyn’s cry of pain blurred into pleasure as the euphoric hit her bloodstream and another, harder climax struck. She arched beneath him, her legs sliding down to circle his hips, as he lifted her to his mouth, his arms banded around her back, fingers in her hair, fangs still deep in her neck.

  “Raphael,” she managed to whisper, but he only held on tighter, addicted to the warmth of her blood, the press of her breasts, the grip of her pussy. Until finally his cock swelled and he threw his head back in a roar of climax, his release a rush of liquid heat that left Cyn shuddering helplessly in the throes of yet another orgasm.

  Raphael rolled one last time, cradling her against his chest, his tongue licking lazily at the blood on her neck, sealing the wounds. His cock was still inside her, her pussy still pulsing around him, their hearts still pounding as they fought to find a normal rhythm.

  Cyn’s fingers stroked over his thigh. “You’re still half-dressed,” she whispered.

  His hand patted her ass. “You’re not.” He left his hand where it was for a moment, then slid her to one side, long enough to strip away the rest of his clothes before gathering her into his arms and pulling the covers over them both. The sun was already crossing the horizon. He could feel its presence like a hot poker at the back of his brain. But he’d come to grips with that agony a long time ago. He registered its presence only for the warning it afforded him to kiss his Cyn good night.

  Chapter Seven

  RAPHAEL WOKE to overwhelming sadness. And no Cyn. He could feel her close and knew exactly where he’d find her. Leaving the bed, he pulled on jeans and boots, and a sweatshirt because it was cold outside. Then he grabbed the comforter off the bed and took it with him. He wouldn’t need it, but his Cyn would.

  He entered the security code and took the elevator to his office, took the stairs down to the first floor, and walked out to the fire pit. She was a dark shadow in the corner, the fire not even bright enough for light, much less warmth.

  “Cyn,” he murmured softly as he walked over, flicking the switch to turn the flames higher as he passed. He didn’t pause, but gathered her up and wrapped the comforter around them both, holding her against his chest. She was icy cold. “What is it, lubimaya? What happened?”

  She shivered, burrowing into his embrace as her fingers clutched the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. He waited patiently, holding her close, whispering in Russian, telling her how much he loved her.

  Finally, her fingers unclenched and smoothed the fabric of his sweatshirt. “My grandmother died,” she whispered, so softly that he barely heard.

  “Ahhh. I’m so sorry.”

  “She had a heart attack. It was the third one this year, Raphael, and no one told me!”

  His heart ached at the pain in her voice, but there was nothing he could say. Her family kept their emotions tightly wrapped. It didn’t surprise him that Adela had been just as secretive about her health problems.

  “Who called you?” he asked, kissing the top of her head.

  “My father. The bastard actually sounded sad.”

  “Did he know—?”

  “I don’t think he did,” she said slowly. “I think he was as shocked as I was. What the hell, Raphael? I just saw her at that stupid silent auction. We spoke . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I knew something was up. You saw it, too. But not this. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

  “Your grandmother wasn’t comfortable with emotion.”

  Cyn snorted and muttered, “No kidding.”

  “While you, my Cyn, hold nothing back. It’s one of the things I love most about you. But I don’t think Adela would have known what to do with your grief. She may have wanted to spare you a pain she could do nothing about. She didn’t even tell your father, and his reaction would have been considerably muted compared to yours.”

  She was quiet for a few minutes as the ocean roared down below the cliff.

  “She loved me.” Her voice was soft, muffled against his chest.

  “I know.”

  “She never said it, but she did. She was the only one.”

  The tears came then, and Raphael held her, knowing this would be the only time she’d let herself cry. There would be no tears at the funeral, not from Cyn, not from a Leighton. Even if her grandmother might have understood, her father would be there. And Cyn would never show weakness in front of him. It was an effort for Raphael to remain calm, to conceal his anger at the man who had caused his Cyn so much pain. He tried to remember that while Cyn had lost her grandmother, her father had lost his mother. And maybe there’d been silent love there, too.

  “The funeral?” he asked, when she’d been quiet for a while. “Do we need to change our travel plans?”

  She shook her head where it lay against his chest. “It’s tomorrow. It’s Jewish tradition to bury our dead quickly.”

  “I remember. In the old country, they used to run to the cemetery with the body.”

  She slid her arm around his waist. “I forget sometimes that you were there.”

  “And now, I’m here. With you.”

  She sighed and leaned against him more heavily. “I love you.”

  “And I love you, my Cyn.”

  CYN WELCOMED
the million and one details that went into planning a trip to Europe. She fully intended to buy nearly as much as she brought, but that didn’t change the basic requirements. If she was going to Paris, she needed to bring clothes. Of course, the real reason for the trip—vampire politics—meant that she, and everyone else who was going, had to pack a lot more weapons. This was where traveling vampire-style came in handy.

  First, all of Raphael’s security people were licensed as bodyguards to carry personal weapons, both open and concealed. Cyn was his mate, but that didn’t hold much meaning for authorities. What counted was her inclusion as part of his security team, and that gave her a license to carry, along with everyone else. In fact, the only person in Raphael’s normal entourage who she’d never seen carry a gun was Raphael himself. He’d gone with her to the gun range often enough that she knew he could shoot, and his speed and accuracy were as good as any of the other vampires, including Juro. She suspected that he didn’t carry a weapon because it was beneath him. If he couldn’t defend himself without a gun, he didn’t deserve to rule. Or some other bullshit.

  For her part, Cyn was a firm believer in shoot first, explain later.

  In addition to the carry permits, however, there was the comfort of Raphael’s personal aircraft, which in this case was a completely revamped (no pun intended) Boeing 707. It was the largest of his planes, and not the only one going along on this trip. Paris was enemy territory. Raphael hadn’t requested or received permission to visit, much less an invitation. This wasn’t a diplomatic mission, it was a hostile incursion. Not quite an invasion, because they had no intention to stay. In fact, if the French vamps left them alone, they’d reciprocate. They’d spend a few days playing tourist, and go home.

  But since the odds of that were fairly low, Raphael’s smaller jet would be arriving two days ahead of him with a full contingent of his daylight guards who were charged with preparing the field, so to speak. A suitable property had been rented—which meant a house big enough for Raphael and all his people, not only his vampire guards, but his daylight security, too—with a basement that could be converted, in the short term, for the vamps. Raphael didn’t mind sleeping above-ground, if necessary, especially since he and Cyn required privacy. But their rooms, too, needed to be properly prepared and secured before he arrived.