LachLan

by D

  “What are you staring at?” Cyn demanded, jumping the final two stairs to the sand.

  “You, you beautiful bitch.”

  Cyn laughed. “Are we running or comparing make-up tips?”

  Julia snorted. “You run here every morning?”

  “Nah. I’m way too lazy. Most mornings I sleep a few hours with Raphael, then do some work, then go back to bed. He likes me there when he wakes up.” She batted her eyelashes. “I bet Lachlan wouldn’t mind waking up to you.”

  “It’s not like that. We haven’t . . . you know.”

  “Fucked? Come on, Jules, you can say it. I’m the friend who knows who popped your cherry.”

  She felt a blush coming on and laughed at herself. When had she become so proper? “I think I’ve been spending too much time at work,” she said dryly.

  “What, no one swears at the agency?”

  Julia gave Cyn a sharp look, then shook her head. “Lachlan warned me about you. Well, not you, but Raphael and vampires in general. He claims they have spies everywhere.”

  “Not spies, really. Just people who work the night shift.”

  “Sure. Vampires gotta eat, too.”

  Cyn chuckled. “I just had a flash image of a vampire going from cube to cube, sipping on his late shift co-workers, like a tasty buffet.”

  “As if. At least that would make it interesting. All we have is a lady who should have retired five years ago and hushes us like a librarian. Especially when we curse.”

  Cyn patted her arm. “Don’t worry, three days around me and you’ll be swearing like a sailor. Now, are we here to have a fucking tea party or to run?”

  “Bitch.” Julia took off.

  They ran then. No conversation. Just long even strides while the sun climbed over the hills enough to break up the morning fog. Cyn was a little taller than Julia, but not enough to matter, and contrary to their earlier jesting, they were both in great shape. By the time they finished, they were covered in sweat and breathing hard, but grinning like maniacs.

  “Fuck, that felt good,” Julia said, in between breaths.

  Cyn laughed as she sank onto the steps. “Shit, that didn’t even take a day. You’re already cursing like a sailor.”

  “Might as well,” she said, sitting next to her. “Lachlan and his cousins don’t exactly censor themselves. Why should I?” She didn’t look up, but she could feel Cyn’s gaze upon her. She turned and met that green stare. “What?”

  “Be careful, Jules. You’re smart, and you just proved you’re in good shape. But vampire wars are nothing to get involved in, especially for a human.”

  “No war is.”

  Cyn shook her head. “That’s not what I’m trying to tell you. Vampires don’t fight the way we do. It’s close-up and brutal and always to the death. Make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

  She nodded, even though she didn’t agree. Killing was killing, wasn’t it? She’d seen the crime scene photos before she’d even made it to London. Masoud’s blood had stained the sidewalk for days after he’d been shot. Until someone—the city probably—had scrubbed it away. Julia was sure she could still see the outline of it whenever she walked past that spot. Which she did almost every day, even though it took her out of her way. “Don’t worry,” she assured her friend. “I’m not planning on leading the charge. I know my limits.”

  And that wasn’t a lie. She did know her limits. But she had every intention of breaking them.

  Chapter Seven

  BY THE TIME LACHLAN walked out of the shower in his private underground room, the vault was echoing with voices and footsteps, enough to tell him that most, if not all, the vampires who slept down there were awake. He’d opened his eyes an hour earlier and had immediately texted Julia. He’d been subtle about it, suggesting a time and place to meet and arrange their departure that night, but he’d needed to know she was all right. Raphael hadn’t exactly been friendly, but he’d been gracious and not at all hostile. And Leighton had seemed to be genuinely happy to see Julia. But it wasn’t in Lachlan’s nature—as a vampire or the future Lord of Scotland—to take safety for granted.

  Toweling off his wet body, he walked out of the steamy bathroom and studied the room, wondering if he could transform his own basement quarters into something like this. He had sleeping quarters for any vampire who lived in or came to visit either his personal estate or the ancestral McRae fortress, but while the furnishings were nice enough, they weren’t as secure or finished as these. He’d have to look into it once he was lord.

  Right, because that was the important thing for him to consider tonight. Fancy sleeping quarters. He donned clean underwear, socks and a t-shirt, then decided to ditch his suit for more comfortable clothes. Pulling on jeans, he retrieved his leather jacket from the duffle, and shoved in the suit and shirt with little regard. After a last look around, he opened the door and joined the general trend of traffic upward. There was no guide waiting for him tonight. He didn’t need one. Taking the courtyard exit, he walked across the wide driveway and over to the outdoor pool. It was large and well-lit with underwater lights, while the surrounding deck was darker, just a few landscape-type lights hidden in clay pots of trees along the house wall. There were three tables, all with closed umbrellas. He supposed the daylight guards made use of the pool in their time off, or maybe Leighton liked to swim. He only cared about the woman waiting for him at the farthest table. It was also the darkest table, since it was on the edge of the pool area closest the ocean cliff, though a wide expanse of green lawn stood between the pool and the cliff’s edge.

  Julia looked up when he stepped onto the pool deck, after crossing the narrow verge from the driveway. She had the remains of a meal pushed to one side of the table and a cup of coffee in her hand. When he reached her, he ran his fingers over her white blond hair, which was lying loose and silky down her back, then pulled out the chair next to her.

  “Did you get any sleep?” he asked, helping himself to a cup of coffee from a tray on the table. There were two cups—hers and the one he was using—and a thermal decanter, along with the usual cream and sugar. She’d either anticipated his arrival, or she was expecting someone else. If it was the latter, they were going to be disappointed.

  She studied him a moment, her pale blue eyes reflecting the turquoise water like bright jewels in the dark. Her smile was slow, but welcoming. “Cyn and I ran on the beach this morning.”

  “What were you running from?”

  “Ha ha. You don’t fool me. Cyn says vampires have to work out to stay in shape just like regular humans do.”

  “You think I’m in good shape, then?”

  Those jewel-like eyes rolled in disgust. “Searching for compliments is beneath you.”

  He smiled. “Okay, you ran on the beach. What’s that got to do with whether you slept?”

  “It wore me out enough that my brain shut off. I slept better than I have in months.”

  “I’ll have to remember to wear you out then. In the interest of good health,” he added with a wink that he wasn’t sure she could see.

  “So you’re going to jog through the Highlands with me?”

  “Not what I had in mind, no.”

  She took a sip of coffee which concealed her reaction to his words, but she couldn’t conceal the rush of her pulse or the press of hard nipples against her silk blouse—both perfectly clear to his vampire senses.

  She put down her cup. “I assume from your message that we’re going back to London tonight?”

  “Tonight, yes, but not to London. Your jet—”

  “My dad’s jet.”

  He gave her an impatient look, but said, “Your father’s jet should have no difficulty flying directly to Edinburgh. That’ll save us some time, and there’s no reason for us to be in London anymore. Unless you need to stop there?”<
br />
  She shook her head. “No. I packed enough for three days on this trip, plus I keep a few supplies on the jet. Nothing warm enough, though, according to you. It’s too bad Cyn and I didn’t end up going shopping. I could probably have found some serious winter gear in the ski shops.” She gave a dismissive shrug. “I’m sure they have lots of stores in Edinburgh.”

  “Good enough. If we leave late tonight—eleven or so—we’ll hit Edinburgh just after dark. We can rest there for a night or two, then go home.”

  “Home?”

  “My home. In Inverness.”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “I thought your clan castle was on that island near Dornie.”

  “Ach, that’s just for the tourists, lassie,” he said in his heaviest brogue. “The real yin’s in Killilan, and a wee bit better defended.” He laughed at her expression and added, “But that’s not where we’re going anyway.”

  “What’s a yin? Never mind. We don’t have to hike anywhere, do we? Because if so I’m going to need—”

  He laughed. “A four-wheel drive is useful, but we’ve plenty of those, not to worry.”

  She leaned in close enough to whisper, “Do we need to say good-bye to Raphael first? You know, thank him for his hospitality and stuff?”

  He breathed in the scent of her skin, before whispering back, “You can probably skip it, but I’ll need to pay my respects. In fact, I expect to be called before his lordship any minute now.”

  She gave him a disbelieving look. “Should you say stuff like that?”

  He couldn’t resist giving her a quick hug. “I do believe you’re worried for my safety, again, princess. But don’t fret yourself. I know my manners.”

  Julia elbowed his side with a muttered, “Asshole,” then said, “I’ll give the pilots a heads-up. They’ll need to file a flight plan for Edinburgh, as well as fuel up and do whatever else it is they do. Are you packed?”

  “Yes, Madame,” he said in a teasing voice.

  “You’re in an awfully good mood. Not your usual strong and silent self.” She gave him a squinty-eyed look. “I heard there was a party last night. Cyn says they happen all the time, that they bring in lots of ‘blood donors,’” she raised her hands in finger quotes, “for the guards who can’t get away. Did you join the party before—?”

  He straightened abruptly, shifting away from her with the same move and feeling oddly insulted. “I did not.” He stood without notice and said, “You should make those flight arrangements. I see Juro coming this way. I want to speak with him before we go, and then I’ll probably meet with Raphael.” He stood. “I have your number. I’ll call if you’re expected to join us.”

  She stood to face him, seeming bewildered by his sudden shift in mood. “We’ll need to leave for the airport by 8:00 if you want to fly at 11:00. Traffic’s unreliable, and the airport itself can be a zoo.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. See you later.” He spun on his heel and walked away, heading for Juro who was now waiting just inside the foyer. He could have told Julia he was in a good mood because he was going home. He might even have hinted he was looking forward to spending time with her. But then she’d made that sly insinuation, implying at a minimum that he’d taken blood from some unknown woman’s vein, or more likely, bedded her in the process. It shouldn’t have pissed him off, but it did. He’d never been one to hop from bed to bed. Munro had once called him serially monogamous. He never got seriously involved, but he did tend to stick with one woman for a while. Until she started talking marriage, at least.

  Vampires didn’t get married, for the most part. Mating satisfied the urge to claim a woman or man as their own. But mating linked two people in an exchange of blood, which was far more serious than a marriage ceremony. In addition, marriage required a license from the human government, and vampires had spent too many centuries in the dark to trust human authorities. Give them a vampire’s address, and they were as likely to burn the house down with everyone in it, as to perform their civic duty. He was certain that some in government still saw the burning as part of their civic duty. In recent years, however, he’d seen more vampires following the human tradition of marriage, maybe in addition to mating, maybe instead of. He didn’t know. He assumed it was mostly to please their human mates. But whatever the reason, he wasn’t going to be one of them.

  Of course, his newly dark mood had nothing to do with marriage rites. It was Julia’s assumption that he’d been in another woman’s bed when the two of them had, fairly obviously to his mind, been heading in that direction themselves. He still had every intention of bedding her. But he was also going indulge his insulted ego for a while. He smiled, amused at his own thoughts.

  “Good news from home?” Juro asked, holding out a hand in greeting.

  “Yes,” Lachlan said, shaking his hand. He could hardly tell the big vampire that he’d been brooding about a woman now, could he? “We’ll be heading back there tonight. Julia tells me we need to leave by 8:00 to be certain of our 11:00 departure time.”

  “Unfortunately true. Come up. Raphael wants a final word.” As they started for the stairs, Juro continued, “I’m sorry you’ve had such a short visit. We have a warrior here who’s a genius with the blade. I’d have loved to see the two of you fight.”

  Lachlan had plenty of sparring partners back home. Every one of whom was more than two centuries old and a formidable opponent. But he appreciated the sentiment. “I’m always open for a challenge. Perhaps after things are more settled in Europe.”

  “Perhaps,” Juro agreed, as they arrived at the open doors of Raphael’s office. “My lord,” he said, walking over to the desk and sitting in one of the guest chairs.

  “Gentlemen,” Raphael said, then gestured for Lachlan to take the remaining chair. He was dressed much more informally tonight, but then, so was Lachlan.

  “Lord Raphael,” Lachlan said, bowing his head in respect before sitting.

  “Jared briefed me earlier on your discussions from last night. It sounds as if you and your warriors have things well in hand.”

  Lachlan gave a short nod. “We’ve had our share of battles over the centuries. This isn’t so different. It comes down to weapons and tactics, and I’ll pit my clansmen against his any time. He’s grown foolishly confident in his Edinburgh castle. He’s forgotten what it means to be a warrior.”

  Raphael shot a grin at Juro. “Ah, yes, castles. We don’t have many of those over here. Modern houses are much easier to deal with.”

  “Aye, castles are bloody cold and damp,” Lachlan agreed dryly.

  Juro chuckled. “And bloody expensive to upgrade, I’m told. Lucas spent a fortune on that castle of his in Ireland.”

  “There’s that,” Lachlan agreed. He could have said more, but as pleasant as the company was, he was eager to be back on his way to Scotland. He doubted that Raphael, hundreds of years older and sitting in his wildly elegant ocean-front estate could understand the practical issues that Lachlan and his cousins dealt with every day. So instead, he said, “Julia and I want to thank you for your hospitality, Lord Raphael. And I want to thank you personally for your assistance, and for the opportunity to consult with your advisers.” He smiled briefly. “Once Scotland is mine, perhaps you’ll visit our Highlands, see some of those castles you remember so fondly.”

  “Perhaps,” Raphael said noncommittally.

  Lachlan wasn’t insulted. He’d known such a visit was unlikely, which was why he’d felt free to offer. He also knew that Raphael had supported Quinn in Ireland with an eye toward using that country as a staging area to move on the rest of Europe. That might be good for Quinn, whose loyalties were divided between America and Ireland, but Lachlan had no such divisions and no intention of permitting Scotland’s vampires to get involved in another European war. Scotland had already bled a thousand lifetimes of blood. His invitation to “visit” ma
de it clear, in vampire-speak, that he wouldn’t welcome anything else.

  Leighton and Julia walked in at that moment. Raphael glanced up and said, “My Cyn, you’ve come to join us.” He didn’t stand. He didn’t need to. Leighton again ignored everyone else as she gave Raphael a lingering kiss, then leaned against his chair while the vampire lord wrapped his hand around her thigh.

  “You guys were having so much fun that Jules and I just had to join in,” she said, with a look of such skepticism that her true feelings were made perfectly clear. She glanced at Julia, who pressed her fingers over her lips to hide a smile. “Raphael,” Leighton continued, “Jules says we should visit Scotland, that it’s beautiful there.”

  “Yes,” Raphael commented with a blank face, “lots of castles with bad plumbing.”

  His mate laughed. “Don’t tell Lucas that. He spent a fortune—”

  “—on his castle,” Raphael finished. “We were just talking about that.”

  “Oh, God,” she said. “You’re talking about castle renovations. You need us even more than I thought. Can we at least drink a toast before Jules and Lach have to leave?”

  Lach? he repeated to himself. No way in hell or on earth.

  “If you insist,” Raphael said, although it was imbued with so much affection that it reinforced Lachlan’s view of the deadly vampire lord’s relationship with his mate. Of course, Leighton was deadly, too.

  For some reason, that thought made Lachlan look up at Julia, who’d moved closer to him, almost as if she was following her instincts in this room of predators. Because every vampire was a predator. If they hadn’t been before they were turned, the symbiote remade them into one. But Leighton was a predator, too. Maybe the most dangerous kind, since she hid her more vicious instincts behind a façade of feminine beauty. Julia, now. . . . He studied her as she walked over to help Leighton pour a round of vodka shots. His princess claimed she’d be able to kill Erskine when the time came, or at least draw blood before Lachlan struck the fatal blow. But even though she’d been trained and seemed confident enough with a gun, she’d never done field work, and her job as an analyst certainly didn’t expose her to a lot of bloodshed.