Sophia

by D. B. Reynolds

  “He’s gone.”

  Darren’s unwelcome voice announced his presence, as if he’d known she was thinking about him.

  “He wasn’t here very long,” he said, frowning as he noticed she was sitting behind Lucien’s desk . . . on Lucien’s chair. “What’d he do here?”

  “Nothing you and I haven’t tried already, but he did it with greater success,” she admitted. “I suppose that’s not much of a surprise, given who he is.”

  Darren came around the desk, choosing to perch on its edge next to her, rather than take any of the chairs in the supplicant position in front of it. “What does that mean, greater success? Did he find Lucien?”

  “No, unfortunately.” She proceeded to tell Darren pretty much word for word what Raphael had explained to her.

  “Fuck that,” he exploded, standing up and pacing over to a book shelf and back again. “Lucien would never do anything to hurt himself. I know him.”

  “I agree,” Sophia said, relieved to hear someone else say it out loud. “But what Raphael said about the territorial borders is true. I felt it when we came over here tonight. At first, I thought it was just because Raphael was in the vehicle right behind me, but it was more than that. And if we don’t want a bunch of vultures moving in, you and I need to figure out a way to hold things together until Lucien gets back. Either that, or fight them off one by one.”

  Darren stopped pacing and stared at her. She could see him sizing her up, trying to decide if their earlier spur-of-the-moment contest truly reflected their relative power, or if he could take her in a straight up fight. She knew he would never have challenged Lucien. Even if their Sire came out of this greatly weakened, Darren would never go against him.

  But the possibility that Lucien might die . . . that changed everything. Darren was loyal to Lucien, but he was also Vampire. And vampires were, at their core, territorial and aggressive. And if Lucien died, there was absolutely no reason to honor his preference for Sophia as successor.

  Sophia stood, favoring her fellow vampire with a cool look. “I won’t fight you over this, Darren.” His eyes blazed with triumph and Sophia chuckled. “Not now,” she added deliberately. “I believe Lucien is coming back. But if he doesn’t—” She let her own power swell, let it spill into her eyes until their glow drowned out the dim lighting.

  “If he doesn’t,” she repeated softly, meeting Darren’s gaze directly. “I will fight you to the death before I let you have this territory.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The SUVs rolled through the now deserted night, the streets quiet, but for the occasional vehicle sharing the road with them. In the distance, Raphael could hear a far away foghorn bellowing its desolate warning over and over again.

  His mind was quiet, too, mulling over the night’s events, but without any particular urgency. Lucien’s situation was intriguing, but it no longer seemed relevant to his own hunt. There remained a simmering fury against the Canadian lord, lurking just below the surface of his thoughts. But that was for later—after he’d tracked down the killers Lucien had left on his doorstep, after their blood had fed his soldiers and their bones been reduced to ash and ground into dirt. Lucien could wait until then. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  Next to him, Duncan lifted a hand to his earpiece as up front Juro did the same. Raphael glanced at Duncan, who turned to him and said quietly, “Sophia is an hour behind us, my lord. They are traveling quickly and should catch up by the time we reach the compound.”

  “Tell them not to bother with speed limits, Duncan. I want all of my people inside and safe.” And he was confident that if by chance they were stopped by the human authorities, his vampires had the skill to persuade the officer to look the other way. The ability was a requirement for every vampire included in his personal security detail.

  “What are your orders regarding Lucien, my lord?” Duncan asked carefully. What he really wanted to know, Raphael thought, was what Raphael intended to do next.

  “Lucien will wait, Duncan,” he said. “First we avenge our own.”

  They met no policemen on their way home, and very few other travelers, either. The lights of the compound soon came into view, a bright spot in the otherwise dark forest.

  Raphael spent a few moments conferring with Duncan and the others, but the night was already fleeing and he wanted some time alone with Cyn before sunrise.

  She was asleep when he finally made it to their bed. He’d spoken to Elke before coming downstairs. She’d reported that Cyn had kept her word, that she had indeed spent the night in their quarters, not even emerging for something to eat. Raphael would have been relieved if he hadn’t known her as well as he did. She’d probably been online the entire time, searching out ways to endanger herself during the day tomorrow.

  He sighed as he stripped out of his suit and tie, unbuttoning his fine Egyptian cotton shirt and tossing them all into the hamper for dirty clothes. He wouldn’t be wearing any of these things for the rest of this journey. Until the killers were caught and punished, his plans would not involve anything as tidy as a proper suit and tie.

  Cyn had left a soft light burning on the bureau top. She’d left it for him, even though she knew he didn’t need it. It had more to do with her heart than her head, which was the same reason he left it on when he secured the vault and headed for their bed. He might not need the light tonight, but she would in the morning. There was no natural light in their underground suite, no windows to announce the rising sun. But he didn’t need that either. He knew the sun’s progress across the sky better than any astronomer.

  He approached the big bed, smiling when he saw that she slept clothed, rather than naked as they usually did. Although she was not wearing clothes so much as underwear—a tank top which clung to her breasts, outlining them in exquisite detail, and a pair of tiny panties that only served to heighten his desire. If she’d intended these things to repel his advances, she’d failed miserably.

  Raphael slipped beneath the covers, wrapping an arm around her slender body and pulling her close, curling himself around her sleepy, human warmth. She murmured softly, too deeply asleep to remember her anger, and too accustomed to his presence to wake because of it. Grinning, he slid one hand along her silky skin, beneath the stretchy tank top, filling his hand with a full breast and his fingers with a plump nipple. Cyn smiled in her sleep, pushing her pretty ass into his groin and rubbing gently against his rapidly hardening cock. He growled low in his throat as his hunger for her surged along with his erection. It had been a long night and they had not parted on the best of terms. He wanted to bury himself inside her, wanted to mark her as his, to replace their anger with possession. He was Vampire and she was his mate.

  Bending his head, he kissed her temple, her jaw, but softly so as not to wake her. Not yet. She stirred slightly, but only to cuddle deeper into his embrace. Raphael bared his teeth, his fangs already splitting his gums as the scent of her blood, flowing beneath her fragile skin, hit him like an anvil. She was his. She would always be his and no other’s.

  He sank his teeth into the satin flesh of her neck, reveling in the fleeting resistance of her vein as it popped beneath his fangs, in the first taste of her blood flowing down his throat.

  Finally awakened by the rush of euphoric released into her bloodstream along with his fangs, Cyn moaned softly, whispering his name. “Raphael.” She reached back to caress him, holding his head against her neck as he fed.

  He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, palming her breast in a gentle embrace before stroking his hand down across her flat belly to the velvety smooth skin between her legs. The tiny bit of lace she’d worn in a halfhearted attempt to dissuade him tore easily and he shoved it out of his way, pushing it down to lay tangled against one thigh. He changed his attack then, slipping his fingers into her from behind, feeling the shiver race along her skin as he slid them in and out until she was wet and ready for him.

  But Cyn didn’t wait for him to take the initiative.
She lifted her thigh forward in invitation, spreading her legs and pressing her ass against him, eager for the feel of his cock inside her. She whispered his name again, but full of need this time, a demand rather than a caress, her slender fingers reaching back to grasp his cock, rousing him to an even greater hunger.

  Raphael brushed her hand aside, taking hold of his shaft and positioning it at the very entrance to her plush, heated core, sliding forward until he was just inside her, feeling the grip of her inner walls as she flexed against him, trying to draw him deeper.

  Cyn groaned a protest, stirring fitfully within his arms, trying to force the pace of their lovemaking.

  Raphael chuckled deep in his chest, the vibration traveling along his fangs, still buried in her neck, and making her shudder with renewed desire. He took his time, no longer drawing on her blood, but holding her motionless with his bite, placing his hand over her abdomen and holding her still there as well, as he teased her, sliding his cock an inch into her wetness and then out again, never leaving her completely, but never filling her either.

  “Raphael, please,” she whispered.

  He lifted his head and growled in response, plunging into her with a long, powerful thrust, slamming deep inside her and out again, only to do it once more. Her inner walls clenched around him so tightly it was almost difficult to force his way through when she climaxed, her cries filling his ears with sweet sound, her fingers tightening in his hair and holding him close. Her orgasm finally diminished, becoming no more than a trembling of her limbs, the random convulsions of her womb rippling down and around his cock as he continued to pound into her, knowing the ecstasy of his bite was still raging in her body and she would not rest for long.

  He slid his fingers over her abdomen and deep into her slick folds once more, spreading the swollen lips of her pussy and baring the eager nub of her clit, suffused with blood and hard as a pearl. He began circling it, gliding over its sensitive surface and away until she was thrusting against his hand in time with his cock, making soft, mewling noises as she sought her release yet again.

  His fingers closed on her clit, squeezing softly, rubbing his thumb where it swelled eagerly begging for attention. “Oh, Jesus,” she whispered. Her abdomen clenched first, and then her entire body spasmed against him. He held her tightly as the second orgasm took her and she screamed his name.

  Deep inside her, his cock surged in response to her orgasm, his release boiling from his balls, racing down his cock and splashing out to fill her, marking her, claiming her as his, inside and out.

  “You cheat,” she muttered, when she had finally stopping shaking, when he’d covered her sweat cooled body with the blankets and kissed away the tears of her overwrought emotions.

  “I was hungry,” he offered.

  “Bullshit. You were horny.”

  “That, too,” he chuckled. “But only for you, lubimaya.”

  She breathed deeply, snuggling back against him and holding his hand between her breasts, burrowing deeper into his embrace. “I love you, you know,” she murmured, already half asleep.

  “I know,” he said, feeling the sun’s burning heat emerge over the horizon. “I love you, too, my Cyn.”

  He fought as the sun began its journey into the morning sky, wanting to warn her of what he’d learned in Vancouver. To remind her that the killers had been set on their path by Lucien, that they were targeting those most important to Raphael. And no one was more important to Raphael than Cyn. But the sunrise stole his words and fear chased him into sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  2000, Central America

  Colin strolled down the dark, narrow street, the cobbles hard and uneven beneath the sandals he wore to blend in. The sun had set hours ago, and they weren’t much on street lights in these parts. The brilliant colors of the walls rising around him were mostly muted by the darkness, with the occasional ribbon of color in the light of a doorway or window. People crowded the streets around him, taking advantage of the slightly cooler evening air. The daytime temperatures were intense around here. Even he found it hot and he’d grown up in south Georgia where if the heat didn’t kill you, the humidity would.

  But he was feeling good tonight. Better than good, he felt great. Young, strong and healthy, an alpha male in his prime on his way to meet the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. But Sophie wasn’t just beautiful, she was sexy and mysterious and smart, too. Just about everything Colin had ever wanted in a woman wrapped up in a delicious package that curved and swelled in all the right places. He picked up his pace, eager to get to the café where he knew she was waiting for him.

  “Yo, Murphy.” His buddy, Garry McWaters, grabbed his arm. “Slow it down there, stud. The lady will wait. Let’s not call attention, all right?”

  “Yeah, sorry,” Colin said, somewhat sheepishly. “It’s these hot nights. They always get to me.”

  “Reminds you of high school, huh? All those sweet, little Southern girls just dying to drop their panties for the football hero?”

  Colin laughed. He was only six years younger than Garry, but in the SEALS that made a world of difference.

  “Not as many panties dropped as you think, Mac,” he said, using McWaters nickname. “Most of the girls in my hometown were holding out for a ring, just like their mommas taught them.”

  “You keep talking, Murphy. Somebody’ll buy it. Here we go.”

  They rounded the last corner, bringing the café into sight across the public square. Despite the open space, the weekly marketplace was set up and if anything, the crowds were thicker here. He and Mac slowed even further. No one hurried in this town, and, like Mac said, they didn’t want to call attention to themselves. They weren’t supposed to be here. Hell, they weren’t here. Not officially. Only a couple more days and they’d be gone for real. Back to the States. For awhile anyway.

  Which was why it was so important he talk to Sophie tonight. He didn’t want to lose her just because he was going home. It might take a few weeks, or even months, but he’d arrange an American visa for her, a tourist visa or whatever else he could get. She’d love it in California, where he was based with the SEALs. He knew she would.

  They finally broke through enough to see the café, still halfway across the square. He searched the patio and balconies, looking for Sophie. Sometimes she waited for him there, waving through the crowds when he came into sight. But not tonight. Tonight—

  He stopped, frowning. “Mac?” he said softly.

  Next to him, his buddy edged away slightly, giving them each plenty of room to draw the weapons tucked into their waistbands in back. “Yeah. Looks kinda empty, don’t it?”

  “Shit,” Colin swore softly. “I’ve gotta get in there, Mac. If Sophie’s wait—”

  The rest of his sentence was lost as the world exploded around them. Burning debris was everywhere, flying through the air like shrapnel, landing on the tables of the merchants, starting new fires among the wares displayed there. Flames were shooting out of the small café, reminding him of a Roman candle on 4th of July.

  And the screams. People racing around the square almost mindlessly, like pinballs in an arcade game, knowing only that they had to escape, but not knowing how to get there. Others running from the burning building, from the torched merchandise tables, some of them on fire, some chased by friends trying desperately to help.

  “We’re outta here, buddy.” Mac grabbed Colin’s arm, tugging him back the way they’d come.

  He allowed himself to be pulled a few feet, staring in disbelief, before reality crashed in on him. “Sophie!” he roared. He yanked his arm away from Mac and raced toward the burning building, jumping over injured people on the ground, their faces and limbs bloodied and burned, their clothing little more than blackened shreds.

  “Sophie!” he shouted again, feeling the heat of the flames before he’d gotten within thirty yards of the cafe, sweat dripping down his face.

  “Murphy!” Mac’s voice was right behind him, the snap of comman
d slowing Colin’s headlong charge, but not stopping it. Not when the woman he loved—ah, Jesus, he loved her. Colin bent over his knees, the pain in his chest so great he thought he’d die from it. He lifted his face to the conflagration and knew no one was alive in there. Had she been inside? Had she arrived ahead of him like she always did?

  “We’re gone.” Mac’s voice was hard, no room for discussion, no arguments. He grabbed Colin by the back of the neck, bending over to talk into his ear. “I’m sorry, bud, but we’re leaving. Right now.”

  He tugged Colin upright, turning him with brute force until they joined the rest of the people streaming out of the square. Slinging an arm over Colin’s shoulders, he pulled him along, just one more walking wounded from what had surely been some drug cartel payback, a hit on someone or a message to someone else, and who cared how many innocent civilians died in the process?

  Sophie! Colin dug in his heels. “I’ve gotta check, Mac. I gotta know—”