Sophia

by D. B. Reynolds

  “We need to talk to that local guy,” she said, halfway to herself, before shifting her gaze to Loren. “Colin Murphy.”

  Loren nodded. “I figured we wouldn’t have time tonight. He’ll be here an hour after sunset tomorrow. But why is that important? Surely those of us in this room are better qualified to find and destroy these people. Frankly, the last thing we need is the interference of human authorities who will only get in the way.”

  “Maybe,” Cyn conceded with little conviction. “But consider this. We know Lucien betrayed his peoples’ location to the killers. I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he didn’t do it knowing what would happen to them. But that means whoever he told was someone he knew and trusted. Probably not the killers, but someone working with them.”

  “Why do you say that?” Loren asked.

  “Lucien’s a vampire lord. Even if he isn’t the strongest one around, he has at least enough juice to read humans. Wouldn’t he know if the person he was talking to hated him enough to commit murder?”

  “Assuming he bothered to look for it,” Duncan observed. “If it was someone he trusted, someone he’d known for years . . .” He shook his head. “He might never have noticed a shift in sympathies.”

  “But see, that’s why we need the cooperation of this guy Colin. I don’t know the humans around here. I don’t know who might hate vampires enough to want them gone, or who has the stomach and the organization to commit multiple murders. Do you?” she asked Loren.

  He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and frowned, clearly considering Cyn’s question. He shook his head. “No, I don’t, and you’re right, I should. But if this started in Vancouver, there might not be anyone local involved, either.”

  Cyn shrugged. “That brings us back to how they knew where Marco and Preston lived. Jeremy, too, but especially Marco and Preston. Mariane went into town. Anyone could have followed her home and she never would have known.”

  “Such a possibility would never have occurred to her, and why should it?” Jeremy said, somewhat defensively.

  “It shouldn’t,” Cyn agreed. “And no one’s blaming Mariane. My point is it would have been easy to know where you lived, Jeremy, but not Marco and Preston. They didn’t get out much and when they did it was mostly with other vampires. And it’s not like you live in the suburbs here. Their houses were miles from the highway. If you didn’t know to look for them, you wouldn’t have known they were there.”

  “But most of us live within the compound now, even the ones who lived separately before,” Loren objected. “How would someone know the few of us who live outside and where to find them?”

  “Exactly,” Cyn said. “Do you have a database somewhere, addresses, phone numbers, that sort of thing?”

  “We maintain a database, of course. But it doesn’t include the details of their security arrangements. I’m not certain I would have known if someone had asked me what Marco or Preston’s private quarters looked like.”

  “But both of them lived in this area before you built this compound, right?”

  “They did, yes. It was Marco who suggested we move here to Cooper’s Rest in the first place.”

  Cyn considered that, her mouth twisting as she bit the inside of her lower lip. “How many vampires do you have living outside?” she asked.

  Wei Chen raised his eyes to Raphael’s in silent query. Cyn caught the exchange and scowled, but Raphael rested his hand against her lower back, rubbing gently. He nodded his permission to the Seattle nest leader.

  “We have a total of forty-seven vampires affiliated with what we call the Seattle nest, although there are only a few still living in the city itself. Most live here on this estate. It’s safer and, frankly, more comfortable to be around our own. Fewer than ten maintain separate residences, including those who still live in the city, although most of those spend at least some time here on a regular basis. Marco and Preston were among those who lived apart, and they were the ones who’d been in this area longest. Jeremy lived in the Seattle nest until he bonded with Mariane and they built their own house.”

  “She wanted a place of our own,” Jeremy confirmed softly. “We bought up here to be close to the new compound.”

  Cyn tapped her fingers restlessly against her thigh, and Raphael knew what her next question would be. He also knew why she hesitated to ask it.

  “What were your daytime sleeping arrangements, Jeremy?” Raphael asked for her.

  Jeremy looked briefly surprised at the question, but since it came from his Sire, he answered quickly enough. “A vault, my lord. Like what we have here. Much smaller, of course, but just as secure.”

  Cyn leaned forward. “You built your house from scratch then?”

  “We did.”

  Cyn rocked herself slightly and nodded. “But they didn’t know that,” she said thoughtfully. “They knew where you lived, but they didn’t know about the extra security.”

  “No,” Jeremy said bitterly. “So, they tortured Mariane instead.”

  Raphael felt Cyn freeze, heard her sharp intake of breath at the implicit suggestion that she was somehow ignoring what had happened to Mariane. Which she surely had not intended. His Cyn was many things, but insensitive, especially to another’s pain, she was not.

  “My mate and I,” Raphael said emphatically, “are wholly focused on finding justice for those who died, and those who lived, Jeremy. Especially Mariane. Cyn’s methods may seem abrupt to you, but she is far more skilled than either of us at uncovering human criminals of this sort.”

  Jeremy flushed at his Sire’s gentle reprimand. “My apologies, my lord. It is difficult to think straight.”

  “I understand. Cyn?”

  She leaned back hard against his comforting hand. “Okay,” she said on a deep breath. “We know Lucien gave away Giselle and her nest, but he couldn’t have revealed where Marco or Preston lived. Or Jeremy and Mariane, either. So, who gave them away? I know you guys, and I know Raphael’s security. You don’t exactly take out ads in the yellow pages advertising your presence. And yet, somehow the killers knew not only where the other two lived, but where they slept, because I’m assuming it wasn’t in a back bedroom with blackout shades. Marco and Preston had survived a long time. They must have had some sort of hideaway they thought was secure. Someplace in or near their houses, but hard to find, am I right?”

  Wei Chen gave Cyn an uncomfortable look, clearly unwilling to give out those kinds of details. Cyn huffed impatiently. “They’re dead, Wei Chen. Whatever arrangements they had didn’t work.”

  He sighed. “You’re right, of course. I apologize. It’s an automatic response. Marco and Preston each had a safe room beneath his home. Not as secure as what we have here, but certainly safe enough, we thought. The entrances were concealed and the rooms heavily reinforced.”

  “How’d the killers get inside?” She turned to look over her shoulder at Raphael. “I really need to examine their houses. In daytime, when I can see what I’m looking at.”

  Raphael frowned, unhappy at the idea of her running around unprotected while a gang of human vigilantes ran free, especially given what they’d already done to Mariane. But Cyn didn’t see his frown; she’d already turned back to address Loren.

  “I want to meet up with Colin Murphy during the day tomorrow. If you give me his number, I’ll—”

  “No.”

  Cyn’s head whipped around and she stared at Raphael.

  “I will meet this human tomorrow night and decide then what course we will follow.”

  Her jaw tightened irritably, but again he knew she would not argue with him in front of his vampires. Besides which, she was shrewd enough to know when he would not be budged, and he would not change his mind on this one point. Until he met this local policeman, he was not trusting Cyn alone with him. For that matter, he wouldn’t trust the man even then. If his mate felt it necessary to pursue some part of her investigation during the daylight hours, he would detail a bodyguard
to go with her. One of his own, someone he trusted absolutely.

  He stood, sliding his hand up to Cyn’s shoulder, then down her arm, linking his fingers with hers and pulling her to her feet while cursing the still short Spring nights. “The sun is near. We will meet again tomorrow evening and determine how to proceed. Duncan, get Maxime here from Malibu. I want to know if our security has been breached electronically or otherwise. Wei Chen, I want all of my vampires within the walls of this compound by next sunrise.”

  “My lord,” Loren said quickly. “We sent out a warning as soon as Marco and Preston were slain. Most of our people have already come in, but some have lovers outside—”

  “Everyone,” Raphael stated. “No exceptions or they answer to me.”

  * * * *

  Cyn was out of the elevator almost before the doors were fully open, discarding her jacket on a chair and getting rid of her shoulder rig with jerky, agitated movements. Raphael watched her through half-lidded eyes. She hated being told what she couldn’t do. She’d been on her own for too long. Even as a child, when her only supervision had been hired nannies who cared mostly that she entertain herself and not bother them. He shrugged inwardly. He didn’t care if his restrictions chafed her overdeveloped sense of freedom. He’d much rather deal with her anger than her death. She checked her weapon, ejecting the magazine and working the slide to verify its status—something she never neglected to do, no matter how angry she was.

  Raphael slipped out of his clothes, taking the time to hang them in the closet. These quarters were nothing like those in his Malibu estate, just a single large room, which served as both bedroom and sitting area, with a generous-sized bath. They were, however, completely private and secure, which was what mattered. The elevator had a coded lockout, which engaged automatically every morning, and no one had the code except for Cyn and himself. And neither of them would have a reason to go out during daytime while visiting. An opinion he was certain Cyn would disagree with.

  Finished with her nightly gun routine, Cyn strode over to the closet and began undressing, still avoiding him, not meeting his eyes as she kicked off her boots and stripped off her clothes, brushing against him only inadvertently when she leaned over to snatch up her jacket and hang it up. Raphael’s cock hardened at the sight of all that lovely skin, tightened further as she opened the front closure on her bra and removed it, then bent over to strip away the lacy bit of underwear she wore. Making no effort to conceal the reaction of his now naked body, he let his eyes roam along her curves, pausing to admire her delicious breasts with their rosy tips already swelling beneath his gaze. He growled hungrily and looked up to find her watching him, hands resting on slender hips, eyes sparking. She looked quite irresistibly seductive, although he doubted that was the effect she was going for. He suppressed the smile trying to curve his lips and met her gaze, waiting.

  “You trust her?” she asked suddenly.

  Raphael’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Sophia?” he verified.

  “Of course Sophia,” she snapped. “Was there some other fat Spaniard chick in that room tonight?”

  Raphael almost choked trying not to laugh, and he had the brief thought that it was a good thing she’d unloaded her weapon already. “Why Spaniard?” he asked. “She flew here from Brazil.”

  “And I spent a summer in Paris when I was eighteen. Doesn’t make me French. She was spitting all over the carpet when she reeled off that list of names. Trust me, her first language is Castilian Spanish.” Her eyes narrowed, studying his response. “And she sure as hell liked you.”

  Raphael shrugged his dismissal. “She’s an attractive woman who’s used to manipulating men with her looks.”

  “She’d have gone down on her knees and sucked you off in front of everyone if you’d crooked a finger,” she snarled.

  Raphael lost the effort not to laugh, capturing her in his arms before she could explode. He pushed her up against the wall, trapping her there with his greater bulk, letting his erection play between her silky thighs. “An exaggeration, my Cyn. Are you jealous?”

  “In your dreams, fang boy.”

  “In my dreams,” he purred next to her ear. “There is no one between my legs but you, lubimaya.”

  “Smart move since I’m the one lying next to you while you sleep.”

  “It’s late, sweet Cyn, or I’d give you a demonstration of my dreams,” he said, pretending exhaustion, leaning heavily against her, maneuvering them both away from the wall until they tumbled onto the bed. And then, with a quick, sure move, he looped a big hand over her hip and snugged her beneath him, leaning down to nuzzle her soft neck.

  “I thought you were tired,” she murmured, as his fingers found their way over the smooth skin of her flat belly and pushed her thighs open to delve into the velvet folds between them.

  “I seem to have caught a second wind,” he teased.

  Her heart was pounding against his chest, her breath warm puffs of air as she gripped his shoulders and her nails dug into his flesh. “Raphael,” she gasped, arching up against him as he slipped one finger, then two, deep inside her. She lifted her hips, thrusting against his hand and spreading her legs wider, urging him deeper into her sweet, hot center, smooth as satin and soaking wet—eager for his touch, for his invasion. He groaned, knowing there was, in truth, too little time, though his cock strained painfully, eager to bury itself in the volcanic heat of her luscious body.

  Cyn mewed softly, wanting more, rubbing herself against his hand, tightening her fingers in his hair and holding his mouth against her neck in invitation. Raphael pressed his tongue against the juicy swell of her jugular, but didn’t take her, not yet. Grinning at her groan of frustration, he licked his way downward, dipping into the arch of her collar bone and down further until he captured her nipple in his mouth, biting gently. She cried out, hooking her leg around his hip, fucking herself against his fingers. Without warning, he slid a third finger inside her and began plunging in and out, mimicking the action his cock was hungry for, taking pleasure in the slick heat of her, in the trembling of her muscles, the small, hungry noises she was making as her hips pumped up and down, her breath coming in gasps as she whispered his name over and over again, a prayer for release.

  And still he waited, waited until she was all but screaming his name, until she was clenched so tight around his fingers that he could barely move his hand. He scraped his thumb lightly across her clit, circling it once, twice and a third time before caressing it fully, rubbing back and forth until her entire body spasmed beneath him, her silken walls convulsing, her nipples so hard he could feel them like warm, smooth stones against his chest. She sucked in a keening breath, the air trapped in her lungs by the sheer magnitude of her orgasm. He lifted his head and sank his fangs into her neck, the rush of warm, sweet blood filling his mouth as she climaxed again and her scream of passion filled his ears. He held her tightly, reveling in the taste of her as she shuddered beneath him, her inner muscles trembling around his fingers as he stroked her over and over again, her body jolting as if shocked every time his thumb caressed her swollen clit.

  When at last she lay limp, her arms clinging to him weakly, he retracted his fangs and licked the small wound closed. Crooning wordless sounds of comfort, he pulled his fingers gently from within the still trembling depths of her body, the juices of her orgasm coating his fingers and trailing across her abdomen as he wrapped his hand around her bare hip and tucked her closer in the safety of his arms.

  “I owe you a blow job,” she murmured, already half asleep as she curled into his embrace. His arms closed around her, her bare breasts pressed against his chest, the thudding of her heart a comforting metronome as he drifted closer to his daytime sleep.

  As the sun’s glow lit the horizon, he smiled, thinking his next awakening would be a sweet one. His final thought as the sun crept fully into the morning sky and stole away both his smile and his consciousness was that the night had ended all too easily. And Cyn hadn’t said a word abo
ut his forbidding her to go into town without him.

  * * * *

  Raphael knew when Cyn slipped out of the bed they shared. He watched in his dreams as she dressed quickly and donned her weapon before kneeling on the bed next to him. She leaned over and touched her lips to his in a good-bye kiss. Raphael raged at her, their connection through the mate bond strong enough that her eyes widened when his anger struck hard at her consciousness. For a moment he thought he read indecision on her face. But then, she drew a breath and whispered, “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  And she was gone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Colin sat in front of his office, the cheap plastic chair tilted back on two legs, a weathered, wooden overhang protecting him from a drizzle that threatened to turn into rain as he leaned against the wall and contemplated his town. The office wasn’t much. A single room with a small holding cell and piss poor insulation that left it icy cold most of the time. The only exception was the rare occasion when the sun managed to come out from behind the clouds long enough to warm the place up a bit. Most days he didn’t even bother to come in here unless he had a drunk or two locked up overnight, something that didn’t happen all that often. Most of the drunks he collared winding through town had more or less sober friends who were happy to take the offender off his hands rather than travel back for him, or her, the next day.