Sophia

by D. B. Reynolds

  Robbie looked from Colin to Sophia and back again. “Thanks. But I think I’ll bunk here. I’ll call you.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” Colin’s head swung around, pinning Sophia with those perfect blue eyes. “You know where to find me.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Colin pushed away from his computer and checked the time, just as he had every ten seconds since he’d been back home. It was barely two a.m., but it had been hours since he’d left the vamp compound and he was going a little stir crazy.

  He’d hosed down the inside of his Tahoe one more time, knowing if he left it as it was, it would attract every scavenger in the forest. He’d washed away the remaining blood, balling up wet paper and bandages and throwing them in the secure trash bin behind his house. It had eaten up at least an hour—an hour he hadn’t spent sitting around waiting to hear from Sophia.

  He used up a bit more time with a hot shower, but showers just didn’t take as long as they had before he’d spent twelve years in the Navy. Unless he was showering with someone.

  Which brought him right back to Sophia. And damn if he didn’t still want her. It would have been easy if she’d maintained that cool vampire persona she’d thrown at him tonight. Or even if she’d become someone completely different in the years since they’d spent time together. But tonight, standing there in the dark with her hand on his arm, the years had fallen away and he’d been back in that Central American village, with the heat and humidity, the smells of the jungle all around him, and the ebb and flow of Spanish teasing his ears.

  Maybe he should just do her. A quick roll in the sack for old time’s sake to get her out of his system. But it wouldn’t be that easy with Sophie. It never had been. He’d loved her. Hell, he’d been planning that white picket fence with her. And now here she was back in his life.

  He heard a car in the driveway and turned, his bare feet slapping the wooden floor as he crossed to the front window. He snorted softly. Yeah, here she was. Back in his life.

  Colin pulled the door open as the lights clicked off on the Lexus sedan she was driving. He was a little surprised Sophie knew how to drive at all. She hadn’t when he’d known her before. Not that he knew of, anyway. He scowled, reminded that he hadn’t known as much about her as he’d thought.

  The light from the doorway spotlighted her as she closed the car door and started toward him. Her eyes caught the light at a weird angle, making them shine a rich amber gold for a moment. He blinked and it was gone.

  He watched her face as she drew closer, searching for some sign of bad news. He didn’t see any, but . . . “Leighton?” he asked quickly.

  “No news. But in its own way, that’s good. Duncan—you know him, right? The blond vampire who’s Raphael’s lieutenant?” She waited until he nodded. “Well, Raphael is Duncan’s Sire, the one who made him Vampire. They’ve been together for more than two centuries, and they work very closely together. Duncan is also quite powerful in his own right, which means he is far more sensitive to Raphael’s state of mind than anyone else, except perhaps Cynthia.”

  Colin nodded impatiently. He appreciated the vamp history lesson, but what he really wanted to know was how Leighton was doing.

  As if she knew his thoughts, Sophia explained. “I tell you this so you’ll understand the reliability of Duncan’s assessment. He reports that Raphael has sunk into the depths of his power.” She held up a hand, forestalling his next question. “It’s a trance of sorts, a deep, almost meditative state. It permits him to block out all distraction, to focus only on the one thing he seeks, or in this case, the one thing he cares about, which is his mate. He is concentrating all of his considerable power on healing her, not just his blood, but the . . . magic you’d call it that makes him a vampire lord.”

  “How does it work?”

  She gave a grim smile. “It’s impossible to explain, Colin. I’m sorry, it just is.”

  Intrigued, he asked, “Do you have this magic?”

  She looked surprised by his question. “Yes, of course.”

  “So, it’s not just vampire lords, then.”

  “No, but it is directly proportionate to the individual vampire’s power. Tell me, do you have something else to drive?”

  Lost in contemplation of vampire magic, Colin frowned at her question, then realized she was talking about his truck. “Right,” he said as his brain caught up with what he was seeing. He jumped off the porch, strode over to the Tahoe, and began slamming doors. “This baby is a total loss. I’ll have to have it towed tomorrow and then go down to the city and rent something. Why?”

  Sophia sniffed discreetly and winced. “It smells of her blood. It would be best if you didn’t drive it at all, not even to move it.”

  Colin rubbed a hand over his hair. “Is the blood smell really that bad? Maybe I should tow it tonight, after all.”

  “Not bad,” she assured him. “It’s only because the blood is Leighton’s that I mention it. Things are more unsettled than usual right now.”

  “Unsettled how?”

  “Even if Raphael succeeds in healing her, she’ll be weak for some time. It will make him more protective of her than usual, and far more sensitive to the scent of her blood, especially on another man or his possessions.”

  “Got it. That’s kind of freaky, you know. The whole blood scent thing.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. “Oh, hey, I didn’t mean to be offensive.”

  “I’m not offended, Colin. I haven’t so thoroughly forgotten my human origins that I can no longer remember what it was like.”

  They stood in awkward silence for a very long moment until Colin caved like the craven he was. “So. You want to come inside?”

  Her smile was big and full of gratitude. “I would, thank you.”

  * * * *

  Sophia walked past Colin and into the center of his living room. She could feel the tension in his powerful body and knew that, for all their easy banter, his feelings toward her were still ambivalent. Still, she considered it a victory that he could have a casual conversation with her at all.

  “I won’t stay long,” she assured him. “I just needed to get away for a while. Everything is so tense over there, everyone on tenterhooks waiting for word, and I’m a stranger to them. All of the vampires traveling with Raphael are of his own making, including his entire security detail and all of the additional troops he brought in once the murders were discovered. They’re fanatically loyal and they’ve completely closed ranks around him during this tragedy.”

  “Is that usual?” Colin asked. “I mean, for a vampire lord to be surrounded by his own . . . you know, the vampires that he made?”

  Sophia shrugged. “Vampire lords are not trusting of strangers, so, yes, the innermost circle is frequently composed of the lord’s own children. But it’s unusual for a vampire lord to have so many of his own children living so closely to him, especially since many of Raphael’s people are quite powerful. I would guess that at least half of the vampires living at my Sire Lucien’s headquarters in Vancouver were turned by someone else, although he does have an inner circle of his own progeny.”

  “What about the others? The regular vampires, the ones who aren’t vampire lords. What about their—” He stumbled over the word. “—children?”

  She cocked her head, smiling in amusement. “It’s not like movies or television, Colin. Only a very few vampires are strong enough to sire another, and the vampire lords reserve that power to themselves, in any event.” Her expression turned serious as she continued. “Any vampire siring a child without permission would be severely punished, perhaps destroyed, depending on his master’s wishes. It’s a form of population control, you understand. Vampires are virtually immortal. Without restrictions, the population would soon grow too numerous.”

  Since she had no intention of telling him why too many vampires would be a problem—because they’d quickly outgrow their food source, i.e., humans—she turned away, strolling over to sit on one of the
bar stools drawn up to the counter between the living room and kitchen. “Anyway,” she continued, “I’m not one of Raphael’s children, and with everyone on edge, tempers are flaring. The last thing I need is to get into some sort of pissing contest with one of his vampires.”

  Colin crossed the room, coming close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, could smell the strong masculine scent of his skin. He had a shirt on, but it was unbuttoned and his faded denims hung low on narrow hips. Her fingers itched to stroke a line down his chest and over his abdomen, to feel the hard ridges of muscle there and drag her nails along the arrow of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.

  For his part, Colin seemed unaware of how attractive he was to her at that moment, reaching past her to snag an open bottle of beer from the bar before sitting on the stool next to hers. “Ignoring the pissing analogy for now,” he said, “could you take ‘em?” He started to take a drink, then paused and said, “I mean if one of the vamps started something, could you, know, win?”

  “Probably,” Sophia said, frowning at his total obliviousness to her desire.

  Colin grinned. “Really?”

  Her frown deepened to a scowl. “Yes, really. And I know what you’re thinking. It’s what they all think. The little woman, so pretty, so fragile. I’d expect Raphael’s people to know better, at least. They accept Cynthia for what she is, after all.” She flicked a hand in disgust. “But vampires are like some sort of primitive throwback. Granted, some of them were born a very long time ago when women were little more than chattel, but many of them weren’t, and still they’re all testosterone and thumping chests.”

  “I’m personally rather fond of my testosterone,” Colin commented casually.

  Sophia laughed, her eyes going wide with surprise as her hand flew up to cover her mouth. She felt her cheeks flushing, which was something that rarely happened to her anymore.

  She dropped her gaze, her hands brushing needlessly at her black denim-clad thighs. “Anyway,” she said, still not looking at him. “I could take most of them. Although, probably not Duncan. And not if they ganged up on me, but one-on-one, I’d do all right. I am Lucien’s most powerful living child, you know. I doubt that’s what he intended when he turned me, but here I am.”

  She grew quiet, thinking about the missing Lucien and the very real possibility that she could be in battle for control of his territory before too long.

  “Sophie?”

  She looked up and realized she’d been quiet for too long. “Sorry. I was thinking about something. The point is,” she said, returning to their conversation. “Even if I could win, I don’t want to fight anyone. That’s not why I’m here.”

  Colin took another sip of beer, then laughed. “Little Sophie, big bad vamp,” he teased and then froze, staring at her.

  Sophia didn’t have to hear his thoughts to know he was remembering why he shouldn’t be hanging around talking to her—or God forbid, laughing with her. She saw it in his striking blue eyes. But she also saw the tug-of-war going on behind them. He wanted to do those things. He wanted her.

  He stood suddenly, setting his beer bottle on the bar with a loud clunk. “I’m sorry. I’m being rude. You want a drink or something?”

  “Colin,” she said quietly.

  “I’ve got pretty much everything,” he continued, walking around the bar and into the kitchen. “Or I can make—”

  “Colin,” she said again.

  He stood with his back to her, his hands flat against the refrigerator door. He was silent a long time and then he turned around and looked at her. “What?”

  “We have to talk.”

  “No. I don’t think we do, Soph.”

  “I’d like to. Please.”

  His mouth twisted into a scowl. “Give me a reason, Sophie. Tell me something that can wash away the lies and make me believe in you again, something to make me believe you’re the woman I was in love with ten years ago.”

  Sophia’s heart thudded in her chest. She could hear it even if he couldn’t. He’d never told her he loved her, not back then. Although she’d known it anyway. It was difficult not to read a man’s mind when you were making love to him, when he was buried inside your body, bringing you more pleasure, more joy, that you’d ever felt before.

  And she’d already promised herself that she’d tell him the truth.

  “I was frightened,” she said simply.

  Colin jerked back. “Bullshit. I never did anything—”

  “Not of you, Colin. Never of you. That was part of the problem. You were . . .” She shook her head in amazement. “Perfect. Too good to be true. You were kind, generous, funny. A wonderful lover and so vicious in protecting me from the slightest threat.” She smiled, her thoughts going back to the time they’d spent together.

  Colin huffed a dismissive breath. “It probably seems stupid now,” he said. “I mean, you hardly needed me to protect you, but I didn’t know—”

  Sophia looked up. “No,” she said quickly. “No, Colin. It was never stupid. It was lovely.” Her smile fell away. “And I knew it couldn’t last. I was a vampire. Even worse, I was a vampire living alone. Lucien had sent me away. Not harshly, and not without affection, but I couldn’t go back to Vancouver. Not then. So I moved from country to country. I was still pledged to Lucien, and no other vampire was going to let me live in his territory for long when I was pledged to another.”

  “So why not do whatever it is you all do? Find a new lord or whatever?”

  “I loved Lucien. I still do.” Sophia saw Colin’s eyes narrow unhappily at this and felt a little thrill of hope.

  “I don’t get it,” Colin snapped. “This guy throws you out and you still love him?”

  “It’s not like that. Lucien is my Sire. We were lovers once, centuries ago when he first made me, but not since then. It would be almost unnatural if we were to become lovers now.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can explain it. I don’t know if I have the words for something that is ingrained in every cell of what I am, what he made me, what he gave me.”

  “And what’s that, Soph?”

  Sophia stared at Colin and wondered if she could go back to that horrible place even for him. Her chest ached at the thought of reliving those terrible times. Almost as much as it did at the thought of losing Colin forever.

  She closed her eyes briefly. “My father was a very wealthy man,” she began. “My older brothers had all fallen to disease or warfare before I was ten. I was his only living child, his heir. My only virtue, the sole reason for my existence in my father’s eyes, was my ability to produce a grandson to replace his dead sons. By the time I was thirteen and starting to grow breasts, we were entertaining suitors every night of the week. I say we, but no one cared what I thought. I was trotted out like one of his show horses and then sent back to my rooms. I wasn’t even permitted to eat at the table.”

  Sophia stood and began pacing. None of these were good memories, but the next part . . . the next part was so painful, so powerful, it could still bring her to her knees. She paused and glanced over to where Colin was watching her, waiting. She turned away and started talking. “I was married at sixteen to a man I detested.”

  * * * *

  1755 – Southern Spain

  “I’m hot, Mama.”

  Sophia turned from the doorway where she’d been enjoying the fresh scents of the garden, hoping for a cool breeze. It had been hours since the sun had set on yet another scorching day, and still the air was warm, the breeze almost nonexistent. She stepped carefully in the near darkness, making her way over to the makeshift bed where her two young sons lay next to each other.

  “I know, Teo. I’m sorry.” She sat down, hearing the wooden frame creak beneath her weight. Teo, the oldest by less than a year, gazed up at her, his dark eyes gleaming in the dim light of the single lantern.

  “It should cool down soon.” She smoothed sweat-soaked hair away from his forehead, high and elegant like his father�
�s. Both of her sons resembled their father, which was only natural, she supposed. Although she would have liked to see something of herself in them, maybe around the eyes or the shape of their chins? But no, they were each the very image of their father. And he was a handsome enough man, for all that he was a pig.

  “Where’s Papa?” Her younger son’s face popped up over his brother’s shoulder.

  She smiled fondly. “He’ll be home soon, Miguelito.”

  “Will you stay here with us?”

  “Of course, bebé. I will never leave you. Now sleep. I’ll sing you a song.”

  She sang softly, sitting with them until they’d drifted off to sleep, so tired from their busy little boy days that not even the heat could keep them awake for long. She only wished she was so fortunate. The heavy layers of clothing she was forced to wear, even here in the privacy of her gardens, were stifling. The lacings were so tight she sometimes thought she’d suffocate before the sweltering heat could take her. On a normal evening, she’d have retired to her rooms and removed the binding clothes by now. But her little ones were so uncomfortable with the temperature in the house, despite its thick walls, and the gardens were green and welcoming.