He knew there’d been another attack. Though he wasn’t convinced that was the right word to describe these assaults. Suicide missions seemed more apt. It was as if the humans wanted to sacrifice themselves to achieve some greater goal. Did they think if enough humans were supposedly killed by the vicious vampire lord and his minions, that the local population would rise up and wipe out him and every other vampire in his stronghold? Would they then butcher the humans who lived there, too? Punish them for allying with the bloodthirsty monsters?
He sat up and stood in a single movement, tossing aside the thin sheet which was his only cover. He didn’t get cold, not in any season, and not even in his most secure underground chamber. It was a benefit of his vampire blood, or so he assumed, although few of his vampires shared—
His reflections skidded to a halt as a familiar mind abruptly made itself known. He paused his headlong march to the shower and sent his awareness soaring upward, passing through stone floors and thick walls, following the trail of a mind he knew nearly as well as his own, though it had been years since he’d touched it.
When he found her, he smiled slowly. She’d changed in the years since he’d last seen her. But then, of course she had. She’d been . . . very young then. Barely an adult. Some might have argued she’d still been a child. But she was definitely an adult now. The taste of her mind was as exhilarating as it had ever been. As sweet, too, despite the discipline that had made her harder and more careful than she’d once been. Even so, there was no mistaking the sense of her. Layla had come home.
He rushed through his shower and dressed quickly, wanting to get upstairs before she left, probably trying to avoid him. In all the years she’d been gone, the damn woman hadn’t lingered so much as a minute past sunset on the rare occasions when she visited her parents. Mostly she hadn’t come to the Fortalesa at all, but had met them in the city, or in some other country. He’d kept track of her, despite her avoidance of him. He’d known where she was living, where she traveled, and where she and her fellow mercenary fighters were deployed. There’d also been Ferran’s proud updates on her progress through university and later, when she’d been an officer in the U.S. military, and later still when she’d brought together a small group of experienced fighters to form her own group. Ferran worried, but the warrior in him was proud of his only child, proud of her prowess in battle, of her skill as a leader.
But for all that, Xavier was certain that Layla had never confessed to her father her true reasons for staying away.
He took an extra few minutes to check his appearance in the mirror, to brush his shoulder-length black hair and make sure the dark beard covering his jaw was still a fashionable scrub. After all, it had been years. He wanted Layla to appreciate what she’d missed. His smile flashed white on a laugh. Oh yeah, he was vain as sin. But then, if one believed the teachings of the religion he’d grown up with, he was already condemned to the devil’s realm. So he might as well enjoy the journey.
“I’LL NEED ALL your records. Personnel—past and present, including former employees—reconnaissance, any investigation you’ve conducted trying to pin down the enemy or the leaders. Interviews, observations, that sort of thing. There’ve been some new buildings added to the Fortalesa since the last time I was here. I’ll need blueprints and layouts as it is now. Armory audits, inventory. And I’ll need to work closely with you until you leave, which gives me less than two days, but I’ll deal with it. Anything I need after that”—she shrugged—“that’s what cell phones are for. I’d like another—”
She froze as someone came up behind her, standing too close. She knew who it was even before his smooth, deep voice said, “Welcome home, Layla.”
She reacted without thought, jamming her elbow into his stomach hard, even though she’d be the one carrying bruises the next day. The asshole’s body was like a fucking rock.
Taking a quick step away, she spun to find him laughing. Laughing. If she’d hit any other man that hard, he’d be bent over, gasping for breath and trying not to vomit. Of course, Xavier wasn’t exactly a man. Though he was definitely male, and just as fucking beautiful as he’d ever been. Damn it.
“Sorry,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I didn’t know it was you. You startled me.”
He stopped laughing. “Dios mio, woman. Who’d you think it was? If it had been anyone else, you’d have ruptured something.” He grinned, which only made him more devastating. “It’s good to finally see you, Layla. We’ve missed each other the few times you’ve visited since college.”
“I know,” she said with a regret as false as her smile. “But the roads are so dark. I wanted to get back to the city before the light faded.”
His eyes sparkled with humor. He wasn’t fooled for an instant. She hadn’t expected him to be. She hadn’t wanted him to be, either. She might be here a while, until her father was well enough to return to full duty, and she didn’t want Lord-fucking-Xavier to think there was anything friendly about her presence. It was a business arrangement, nothing more. And she was only doing it for her father, not the vampire lord.
“Layla’s filling in for a few weeks, while I deal with doctors,” Ferran said proudly. “She has a lot of experience—in both the army and private security—and since she already knows this place, she’ll be perfect.”
“She always was,” Xavier agreed, his sexy mouth curved into a smile that was too knowing for what they had between them.
Stop, she told herself. I don’t care if he’s beautiful and his mouth is sexy, so just stop thinking about it. “Was there something you needed, my lord?” she asked, her tone utterly professional.
“I was looking for Ferran,” he said, dismissing her in an instant, as if that knowing smile had never happened. Turning to her father, he said, “There was another attack today.”
He’d only just risen from his sleep, and couldn’t have been briefed yet, but he hadn’t been asking a question. She was reminded once again that Xavier wasn’t an ordinary vampire. He was the Vampire Lord of Spain, one of the most powerful vampires in Europe. Maybe even the world. She couldn’t have said how many vampire lords there were in the world these days, but she knew there weren’t very many. And she definitely didn’t know Xavier’s strength compared to the others. She could have found that information if she’d really wanted, but she’d intentionally avoided anything to do with vampires since she’d gone away to school.
Xavier was uncommonly powerful, which made him a deadly weapon in her arsenal. Nothing more. Her job was the defense of his Fortalesa. Officially only during daylight, but wars didn’t follow a clock these days. What began in sunlight could easily carry into the night.
She looked at her father and said, “If you point me to the right files, Papa, I can find the information I need, while you brief Lord Xavier on today’s attack. I also need to—”
“I want you in on this briefing,” Xavier said. “You’re already my temporary daylight commander. You need the latest intel.”
Temporary, she reminded herself, biting her tongue to keep from telling him what he could do with his fucking commands. Besides, the beautiful bastard was right. No. The bastard was right. No more beautiful or any other unnecessary observations. “Very well,” she agreed briskly. “Here or—”
“We have a nightly briefing in Lord Xavier’s office, Laylita,” her father said. “His lieutenant and any others he feels should attend will join us.”
“Makes sense. Shall I stop and tell Mama—”
“Ramlah knows the routine. We’ll be finished in time for dinner.”
“Okay,” she muttered, feeling like the odd man out, even though she was the one who’d be in command when the sun rose. “But I do need to contact Brian, and tell him about the situation here. I’ll run upstairs, get a few things I’ll need for the meeting, and call him on the way. I’ll see you there.”
XAVIER STO
OD WITH Ferran, waiting until Layla was out of sight, her footsteps fading as she rounded the second flight of stairs.
“Who’s Brian?” Xavier asked, keeping the growl from his voice with an effort.
“Brian? He’s an officer on her team. They work together,” Ferran said walking with him across the courtyard to the vampire wing and the office from which Xavier ran not just this Fortalesa, but the country’s entire vampire population.
“Have you met him?”
“Oh, yes. Both times we visited her in France, and once when she was in college.”
“She’s known him a long time, then.”
“She met him her first year in the United States, I think. Or maybe it was the second. It was a while ago. My lord,” he said when they reached Xavier’s office, “are you comfortable with this? With having Layla assist you in my place, while I’m gone? I can postpone—”
“No need, my friend. You’re too important to everyone in the Fortalesa. I need you healthy. Besides, Ramlah would stake me in my sleep if I said anything else.” They both laughed as Xavier poured two rounded snifters of a Portuguese port, and handed one to Ferran. “I trust you. If you say she’s up to the task, then she is. It’s as simple as that. Now, tell me about today’s attack.”
LAYLA SAT ON HER bed in the same bedroom where she’d slept for most her life. The bed had been changed when she’d turned thirteen. They’d lost the white princess headboard and fluffy canopy in favor of what had passed for more mature décor in her teenage girl’s mind. Thankfully, her mother had changed it again when she’d gone off to college, so she was no longer subjected to staring at posters of Enrique Iglesias and Ryan Cabrera while she tried to sleep.
Leaving her boots on, she hit Brian’s number on her cell, then put her feet up and leaned against the pillows while she waited for him to pick up.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered.
Such a smartass. “I’ve told you not to call me ‘ma’am.’ It makes me sound like some old bulldog of a sergeant.”
“You could never be that, my lady.”
“Be serious. I don’t have much time.”
“What’s up?” He was abruptly all business, clearly having picked up on her mood. They’d been friends for years—never lovers, which was probably why they were still such good friends. Brian knew her better than anybody.
“My dad’s going in the hospital.”
“Layla, I’m sorry. What is it?”
“Heart.”
“Ah shit. What’re they doing?”
Tears stung her eyes. She’d needed to tell someone else, someone who could understand how devastating this whole situation was to her. Not the thing with Xavier. No one knew about him. It was her dad. She was an only child, and her parents were everything to her. Her only family. She’d never even had a serious relationship, never truly loved or been loved by anyone else. Except Brian, which was the real reason she’d needed to call him.
“Surgery, maybe,” she said, managing to keep her voice casual. “They need to do some tests. Possibly just stents, which would be a lot less intrusive. But either way, he’ll need me here to fill in until he recovers. Apparently, his longtime lieutenant left two months ago to move to Madrid and be closer to family. So, there’s no one else here who’s qualified—”
“But you are, and you’re going to stay.” No complaints, no questions, just of course she was staying. This was family. Brian understood.
“Looks like it,” she sighed. “I haven’t seen any numbers or personnel files yet, but from what my dad tells me, they’re either understaffed, or improperly deployed. I’ll know more once I get a chance to review.”
“Hey, say the word and we’ll be on a jet headed your way.”
“Mmm, not yet. There’s something weird going on with what sounds like a local fringe group who object to vampires, and think the answer is to hide in the woods and take pot shots at the guards. Or at least, that seems to be how it started. But with this last attack, they’re escalating. Some of the guards were injured today. Nothing fatal, and only one or two that required medical attention. But if this group is ramping up for something bigger, we need to be prepared. I’m heading for a briefing now. I’ll know more after that, including if I need some of you with me.”
“Come on, Layla. Throw us a bone.”
She laughed. “Right, because you’re living in squalor over there in France.”
“You know we’re not, but it’s fucking boring. You need us, we’re there.”
“I know. Look, I have to go. I just wanted to give you a head’s up. I’ll call tomorrow, give you the update. Give the boys and girls my love, and don’t drink too much wine.”
They hung up at the same time, as Layla swung her legs off the bed and shoved the phone into a pocket. She grabbed her leather portfolio with its supply of writing pads and pens, kissed her mother as she hurried through the living room, then marched off to her first meeting as the temporary daylight commander for Lord fucking Xavier.
Chapter Six
XAVIER LISTENED to the multiple conversations going on in his office, and longed for the days when no one expected or worried about democracy. Everyone around the table wanted their say, then wanted their say on the other guy’s say, and on and on. They all agreed on the basics, but each wanted their opinion to be the final word. And fuck, if he didn’t shut this down, he’d either start killing people, or walk out and leave them to it. The former would be more satisfying, but he’d probably lose some useful voices in the process. And in some cases, he might lose a lot more than that.
Like Layla. He liked her. Hell, he’d liked her a little too much before she went away to college, and had thought he’d kept it to himself. Until she’d come on to him. To this day, he regretted that night and the way he’d handled it. Though there’d been no good way. She’d been nineteen years old for fuck’s sake. He’d been too old even before he’d been made Vampire, and then . . . Well shit. She’d been about to begin the biggest adventure of her life, maybe even meet the man she’d marry, and have a family. That was what humans did.
While his plans at the time had all included crafting alliances and increasing his personal power in preparation for what he’d known, since the night he’d woken as a vampire, was his destiny. He’d been created to rule, to build beyond what any previous Spanish vampire lord had achieved. To rule all of Spain, not the fractured country it had been when his Sire ruled. And he’d done it. The human residents might fight over interior borders and rights, but those lines didn’t exist for Spain’s vampires. He ruled them all.
His ambitions didn’t end there, however. He was well-positioned to become the kingmaker of continental Europe. He’d met every one of his fellow vampire lords in the surrounding countries, and was stronger than any of them. He didn’t count Scotland’s Lachlan or Ireland’s Quinn in that calculation. They had their own countries, their own territories, but they also had strong links back to North America. He didn’t care overmuch, however. As long as they left the continent alone, he’d leave them alone.
But what he wanted for continental Europe was what Raphael had in North America. He wanted the strength of an alliance of vampire lords, the prosperity of peace between them. And the only way to achieve that was one country at a time, one neighbor at a time.
But now it seemed as though someone didn’t want him to succeed. He could think of no other explanation for this sudden outbreak of human hostilities against him. These guerilla-style tactics of attack and fade into the woods had to be more than a fresh wave of human hatred. There was something more behind it, someone more driving it. He had his suspicions, or more like a list of possible enemies. The problem was, it just didn’t seem logical for any of them to attack him directly. Maybe they would lobby the others, whisper against him, but his plan of alliance hadn’t gotten far enough to pose a real threat to a
nyone. And if he had his say about it, it never would. He didn’t want to conquer the other countries. He didn’t want to fight them at all. He wanted to be ready in the face of outside enemies. He wasn’t even sure they had outside enemies. Not yet. But ever since Mathilde had gathered her strongest vampires, then set out to destroy Raphael and put herself in his place, Raphael—who’d survived quite handily—had begun meddling in the affairs of European vampires.
He’d begun by killing Mathilde and every one of the vampires who’d left France with her. He’d then completed the destruction by visiting France and killing the strongest potential successors to her territory. And then he’d installed his own allies in Ireland and Scotland. If continental Europe’s vampire lords didn’t unite, any one of them could be next.
Except him. He had no intention of falling to any challenger. Not for a very long time.
His gaze strayed to the beautiful Layla. She could make a vampire’s life worth continuing. But only if he could get her to talk to him first. What was her problem anyway? She’d been gone more than ten years, had barely visited her parents, and then only in daytime so as to avoid him, he was certain. He hadn’t received a letter, or a postcard—not even in the first months after her departure when she might have written just to tell him to go fuck himself. In the deafening silence, he’d assumed with good reason that she’d moved past whatever feelings she’d had for him. It had scraped his ego some. He wasn’t usually forgotten that easily. But hadn’t he told himself that it was what he wanted for her? And really, there’d been nothing between them before that night. So why was she acting like he was the biggest villain in her life?
Xavier: Vampires in Europe (Vampires in America Book 14) Page 7