Unforgiven (A Cyn and Raphael Novella Book 3)

by Reynolds, D. B.

  Juro paused, his hand going up to touch his ear where he was wearing a nearly invisible Blue Tooth earpiece. “Pascal and Alexandra just cleared the gate, my lord.”

  “How’s he doing all of this?” Cyn puzzled. “It’s like he’s Houdini or—”

  “Not Houdini,” a new voice chimed in. Cyn turned to see Jared enter the office. “More like Franz Mesmer,” he provided.

  “Who?” she asked, trying to keep the snap out of her voice.

  “Franz Mezmer, the father of hypnotism.”

  “Mezmer,” Cyn repeated. “As in mesmerism.”

  “Apparently. That was before my time, although . . . my lord?” he said, giving Raphael a questioning look.

  “Our paths never crossed,” Raphael said dryly. “What did you discover?”

  “Our friend Pascal is actually the very ordinary Paul Modesti, a stage magician of small repute and smaller talents. Or he was until someone saw fit to make him Vampire. What had been a modest ability to push his victim’s attention away from whatever trick he was doing—which was usually cheating at cards—became a fairly strong telepathic talent courtesy of his new vampire blood. He fancies himself a power with a capital P, someone to be reckoned with. He’s even given himself a name, The Mesmer. He’s a legend in his own mind.”

  “What an ass,” Cyn muttered, and Jared gave her a look, as if he wasn’t altogether certain whether she was referring to Pascal . . . or him.

  “I meant Pascal,” she assured him with a saccharine sweet smile. It didn’t fool him, but he moved on.

  “No one knows who sired him. He’s not one of Klemens’s, though if you ask, he’ll say he is. The truth is that for years he lurked around Jabril’s court. Once Jabril was dusted—” He glanced at Cyn. She’d been the one who’d killed off the former Lord of the South, though they let the world assume it was Raphael. “Anyway, once Jabril was dusted, Pascal stayed in the South. He never swore to anyone, as far as I can discover, but we do know he’s been freelancing. Mostly petty theft kinds of shit, but lately he’s been hinting at something or someone bigger. He thinks this is his chance to step up into the big leagues. My take is that someone with real power has noticed his talent and decided to make use of it.”

  “Are you saying he hypnotized his way onto Alexandra’s guard detail? And the gate guards, too?”

  “We only wanted him to think he did,” Jared assured her. “Juro recognized what he was trying to do as soon as he met him at Luci’s, and he gave me the head’s up. I made sure the guards he was assigned to work with were briefed, while Raphael made certain their link to him was strong enough to repel any mental intrusions.”

  “Why not simply dust him? Wouldn’t that send a signal?”

  “But a signal to whom?” Raphael asked quietly. “I’d much rather know who sent him. Pascal is nobody. He can move freely over territorial borders and no one will notice. But he didn’t plan this. The planner is someone who cannot move about unnoticed, which means someone on this continent is abetting this plot against me. If, as I suspect, the mastermind is a European player, then his North American ally is betraying every vampire on this continent, trying to cripple our alliance before it begins.”

  “But if he came from the South, then you think Anthony—”

  “No, as Lord of the South, Anthony is a loyal ally to me, if only because he knows that he cannot continue to hold his territory without my support. But in any event, I suspect the traitor will be found farther south than that, in Mexico. The only question is whether Enrique is an unwitting victim of the poison lurking in his territory, or if he is the source.”

  CYN TURNED THE minute the doors to their private suite were secured behind them. “I don’t like this,” she said, ripping her sweatshirt over her head.

  “I know,” Raphael said, gliding a hand along her bare arm as he walked past her and started to get undressed, toeing off his boots and unbuttoning his jeans.

  “Why can’t you just do your thing on this Pascal or Paul or whatever the fuck his real name is? Dig into his brain and find out what you need to know.”

  Raphael pulled his sweater off and tossed it into the laundry basket, turning to speak over his shoulder as Cyn paced the room behind him. “Because I suspect he doesn’t know everything,” he told her. “If I was planning an operation like this, I’d use layers of secrecy to protect myself against just such a discovery. Pascal will only be able to tell me the name of his master, the vampire who sent him out here. I want his master’s master.”

  Cyn sighed. “I’m tired of this, Raphael. Every time we turn around, someone’s trying to kill you.”

  At that, Raphael stopped what he was doing and turned fully to wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry, lubimaya. I’ll understand if you want to leave—”

  Cyn stiffened in his arms before raising both hands to shove him away. He actually stumbled back a step which told her she’d caught him completely off-guard.

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she hissed angrily, slapping away his hands when he reached for her. “What the fuck, Raphael? Is that what you think of me, that I’d run at the first sign of—”

  “It’s hardly the first, my Cyn, as you pointed out. It’s been one thing after another since we met.”

  “Then maybe it’s you who should be running,” she practically shouted. “Maybe I’m the bad luck charm. Is that what this is really about? You pretend it’s all about me getting away from you, when really it’s you who wants away from—”

  “Stop.” Raphael put enough power into the command that Cyn’s words froze unspoken in her throat. Eyes flashing, he grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “My love for you is the single burning truth of my life. If I am to go down in this fight, I would have you by my side and nowhere else, your face the last thing I see. But I would understand—”

  “You don’t understand anything,” Cyn whispered through the tears streaming down her face. “If you think for one second that I’d leave you, you don’t understand anything.”

  “Lubimaya,” Raphael murmured, pulling her into his embrace. “I forget sometimes that my mate is a warrior, a woman who will stand with me instead of behind me.”

  Cyn pounded a fist against his chest, but he only held her tighter.

  “I, too, grow tired of these challenges,” he said softly, his breath stirring her hair where it lay against her cheek. “I had hoped if we had a united Council, if the Europeans saw that we would stand strong against them, that they would abandon this foolish scheme of theirs. I would even have welcomed a few of them to this continent, permitted them to make their own way here, just as humans have for centuries, even to challenge for territory if the individual vampire was strong enough. But it seems I underestimated their desperation, or perhaps the greed of their current masters.”

  Cyn heard the weariness in his voice and softened against him, letting her arms wrap around his back, her hands curling up over his shoulders. “We’ll fight the bastards together,” she whispered.

  “We’ll defeat them together,” Raphael corrected.

  “Right,” Cyn agreed. “And when it’s over, we’ll lock the doors and turn off the phones for, like a month,” she muttered.

  Raphael laughed, the sound tinged with surprise. It unfroze something in Cyn’s chest and she hugged him even tighter.

  “So how long do you think it’ll be before we get the call from Pascal’s handlers?” she asked. “They have to know we’ll discover Alexandra missing sooner rather than later.”

  Raphael threaded his fingers through her hair and down her back. “Pascal believes he’s persuaded enough of my guards to his cause that they will ignore her absence, giving him nearly a full shift, almost twelve hours, to manage his escape.”

  Cyn scoffed noisily and pushed back to look up at him. “What about the f
ucking video? How did he plan to persuade that?”

  “We may have neglected to inform him of the camera’s existence.”

  “He didn’t pick up on it himself?” she scoffed. “He’s an amateur. You’re right. There’s no way he could have planned this alone.”

  “Enough about Pascal,” Raphael said abruptly. “There’s nothing we can do until tomorrow, and there are more enjoyable ways to spend our time before sunrise.”

  Feeling wicked, Cyn frowned. “Do we know anything about the individual vamps in Europe? Maybe I should dig into this online, see if I can get a lead on who might be running him.”

  Raphael’s eyes narrowed and his fingers twisting in her hair, tugging her head back until she was forced to look up at him. “Fuck Pascal.”

  “But Raphael, now that I know his real name—”

  He snarled angrily, his grip on her hair tightening to the point of pain, his other arm squeezing her around the waist and yanking her against his hard body . . . his very hard body. Everywhere.

  Cyn bit back a grin and said with feigned seriousness, “Raphael, I really think—”

  He didn’t wait to hear what she thought. His mouth came down on hers in a hard, ravaging kiss, the kiss of an alpha male who wanted his woman and no more bullshit. Holding her tightly, he backed her up to the wall, pressing against her, holding her in place while he tore at her clothes—ripping her midriff baring t-shirt, twisting the clasp on her bra to expose her breasts, snapping the drawstring waist of her sweatpants and letting them fall to her ankles, tearing away the tiny thong which was all she was wearing beneath it.

  Cyn grinned into his kiss and gave as good as she got. Her arms were around his neck, her fingers pushing through his short, thick hair, grasping it tightly, tugging hard enough to hurt, thinking payback was a bitch. Raphael growled a soft warning, and she bit his lip, her laughter more of a cackle as she dared him to his face to do something about it.

  Raphael lowered his head to give her a half-lidded stare. “You want to play?” he asked with soft menace. “Game on, sweet Cyn.” Using the full weight of his big body, he slammed her against the wall and shoved his hand between her thighs, his fingers sliding wetly in the slick moisture of her arousal, slipping between her swollen lips to fuck her fast and hard, the heel of his palm grinding against her clit.

  Cyn groaned, her teeth digging into the soft tissue of her lower lip . . . except it wasn’t her lip, it was Raphael’s, and she gasped in shock as the taste of his blood filled her mouth, warm and exotic, sizzling along her nerves, making her heart pound and her lungs strain for air. She reached between their bodies, her hand dipping into the unbuttoned front of Raphael’s jeans to take hold of his cock, wrapping her fingers around its thickness, stroking up and down, relishing the glide of smooth skin over marble shaft, squeezing and releasing, feeling it jump in her hand as his groan matched her own.

  “Raphael,” she demanded, needing more, wanting more, wanting him inside her now.

  Raphael bared his teeth in a primitive smile as he pulled his fingers out of her pussy, as both hands shifted to cup her ass instead, his right hand still wet and slick with her juices. The muscles in his bare arms flexed and bunched as he lifted her higher against the wall, as he stepped between her thighs and forced her legs to spread around his hips. Cyn reached again for his cock, positioning him at the opening of her aching sex, feeling the tip of his penis enter her pussy, thrusting forward in demand, urging him to move, to fuck her. Until finally, with an angry growl of possession, Raphael plunged deep into her body, ripping his cock away from her fingers, forcing the quivering tissues of her sheath to stretch around his thickness as he slammed all the way inside her, until he was buried as deep as he could go, their bellies skin to skin, hips touching. And then he stopped.

  Cyn opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his black eyes filled with the starlight. She could feel him everywhere, the touch of his cock on her cervix, the swell of his powerful chest as he breathed, crushing the air from her lungs, the pounding of his heart, beating in time with her own. Every inch of their bodies was touching, every vital function moving in rhythm, two individuals made one.

  “Raphael,” she whispered, terrified by the strength of her emotions.

  “I love you, my Cyn,” he said quietly.

  Her eyes filled with tears and she nodded, unable to speak for a moment. “I love you, too.”

  He started moving again, but gently now. No longer fucking, no more angry sex. He was making love to her, his cock sliding in and out, slow and steady, his gaze never leaving hers until he took her mouth in a soft, intimate kiss. He broke the kiss, licked her lips in a caress then trailed more wet kisses down over her jaw and the taut skin of her neck to suck hungrily at the swell of her jugular. Cyn felt the sharp press of his fangs a heartbeat before they sank into her neck, felt the heated rush of his bite, and then her world tilted. The euphoric in his saliva raced like fire through her bloodstream, plumping already swollen nipples, making her breasts ache and her pussy clench.

  Raphael growled deep in his chest as her sheath tightened around him, the sound skating over her already sensitized skin, making her shiver with pleasure. She clutched the back of his head, pulling him to her, holding on for dear life as her climax swept her over and under. She bucked against the wall, Raphael’s big body the only thing keeping her upright. Her legs were around his hips, her ankles crossed over his tight ass, squeezing him so tightly that he could barely move to fuck her.

  Cyn cried out wordlessly, holding back the scream that was fighting its way up her throat, gasping for breath, until Raphael lifted his head and with a wordless snarl broke the stranglehold of her crossed legs to withdraw his cock almost completely before slamming slam back into her, doing this over and over, picking up speed until he was moving as fast as only a vampire could manage, plowing deep into her body with every thrust, his fingers gripping her ass hard enough that she knew she’d have bruises. But she didn’t care.

  She fucked him back, her hips flexing to meet every thrust, crushing her mouth against his until their lips tore on the sharp points of his fangs and the blunt edges of her teeth, blood filling their mouths, both groaning as the mingled blood slid down their throats in unison. Finally, Cyn did scream then, her entire body convulsing in his arms as his blood soaked into her system, as the heat of his release filled her body and Raphael’s roar rose to meet her scream in a beautiful song of ecstasy.

  RAPHAEL HELD CYN while her muscles slowly eased, her skin silky and hot as her legs untangled from around his waist and gradually slid down to the floor. He held her still, feeling the quivering of her muscles, not certain she could stand firmly yet. Her forehead dropped to his shoulder, her breath hot against his already sweaty skin. He stroked her back, his hands traveling up and down in a comforting gesture, fingers digging in just enough to relax, not enough to hurt.

  Cyn’s arms slid around his waist. She rolled her head to face him, still resting against his shoulder, and murmured, “Don’t leave me.”

  Raphael frowned. “Never,” he vowed and meant it.

  She nodded slightly, then rolled her head back and kissed his chest over his heart. “Don’t die,” she whispered, so softly, a bare brush of breath against his skin that he knew she didn’t mean for him to hear.

  Raphael tightened his arms, holding her closer. But he didn’t acknowledge hearing her last request, and he didn’t respond. He loved his Cyn more than he ever had or ever would love another being. But in spite of that, or maybe because of it, he wouldn’t lie to her, wouldn’t make promises he knew he might not keep.

  Chapter Four

  PASCAL GLANCED over at Alexandra. She hadn’t said a word since they’d driven away from Raphael’s estate, but he could feel the buzz of excitement rolling off of her as she stared out the window of the luxury sedan he’d rented. It wasn’t his usual style. He prefe
rred sports cars, the faster the better. But his mistress had told him what she knew about Alexandra before sending him off on this assignment. She’d told him how Raphael had pampered his younger sister for so long, how he’d built that silly French mansion just for her to live in so she could pretend the centuries hadn’t passed in the world outside. Pascal had actually been surprised, when he’d finally met her, to discover that she’d decorated her prison cell with modern furniture and been dressed like an ordinary woman of this century.

  But while Alexandra appeared finally to have come into the 21st century, she was still every inch the pampered princess. Her clothes, the furnishings in her cell, had all been of the highest quality. So Pascal had figured she’d appreciate the comforts of a fine motor car, and he’d been right. She’d stroked the soft leather and said, “My brother has leather in all of his limos. His SUVs, too. He has only the latest models.”

  And then she’d instructed him to change the music to something classic in the traditional sense, rather than the classical jazz that he preferred. And, yes, he meant instructed. Alexandra seemed to think of herself as royalty, and he, no more than the knave who’d been sent to rescue her. He’d half-expected her to sit in the back seat instead of up front with him.

  “My brother bought me a concert grand piano, did you know that?”

  Pascal grunted a noncommittal response, and she kept talking.

  “It was beautiful, a Steinway.”

  Pascal rolled his eyes. What the fuck did he care?

  “Where will we rest tonight?” she asked him suddenly, still gazing out the window.

  “On the plane.”

  She turned to stare at him, her eyes wide. “A plane?”

  “Yes.” He swallowed the “my lady” that wanted to spring unbidden to his lips. There was something about Alexandra that sent him back to an era he’d only read about, a time long before he’d even been born as a human, much less a vampire.