Raphael

"More than ready,” she agreed, suddenly wanting nothing more than a shower and the fresh sheets on her own bed.

"I'll call ahead to the gate."

"Thanks. See you around, I guess."

The look Steve gave her suggested he wasn't thrilled at the prospect, but he was as good as his word about calling the gate. The guards looked her over carefully, but permitted the heavy gate to roll open, passing her through without incident. Before long, she was speeding down Pacific Coast Highway on the way to her own beachfront condo and hoping it was true vampires couldn't enter a home without being invited.

Chapter Fourteen

She dreamed of dark eyes and cool fingers that didn't stop at her neck, but trailed slowly over the bones of her shoulders, gliding downward to cup the fullness of her breast in one broad hand. A hand that squeezed gently, pinching her nipple between thumb and forefinger until it was a hard little pearl, flirting with a pain that made her moan with need. Need that was echoed in the pulse of pure desire that throbbed between her legs and left her wet and wanting.

Cynthia woke, gasping for air, her body aching with lust, and her heart pounding in confusion. God, she'd never felt anything like this before. And why the hell would she dream of Raphael? Is this what he meant when he said she'd remember him? Her hands slid over her naked body, cupping her breasts and letting her thumbs play with nipples still sensitive from her dream lover's attention. One hand slipped lower, dipping into the slick wetness between her legs, rubbing slowly while she groaned with frustration, two fingers probing until they slid inside, then gliding in and out, fucking herself until she came with a cry that was half orgasm and half disappointment. She lay there, shuddering with pleasure and wanting more, wanting the hard, solid length of a cock, the weight of a man pressing her down into the sensuous embrace of her thousand thread count sheets.

Cynthia laughed, letting her fingers stroke one last time over her pulsing clitoris to a jolt of pleasure. She sat up and the sheet dropped away, exposing her naked breasts and cooling the sweat pooling between them.

She knew it was still daylight, in spite of the darkness imposed by the blackout curtains over her windows. She stood and stretched, her body still tingling with the remnant of her dream. Was this why women volunteered to be food for the vampires? Because it felt so damn good? She walked over and opened the first layer of drapes, easing light into the room before glancing at the clock. Not even eleven yet; she'd gotten maybe four hours of sleep. Her gaze fell on the computer discs where they lay next to her keys. Damn.

She pulled the rest of the curtains open. Sunlight flooded through and she opened the sliding glass door to the unmistakable scent of ocean. Her three-story condo contained far more space than she needed, but she loved the location right on the sand, two miles west of the center of Malibu. The top story was her private space, with a large master bedroom and sybaritic bathroom, including a full-size Jacuzzi tub and a shower big enough for four people to share. Not that she'd ever actually had four people in it. Two people, one of them male, was pretty much ideal for her. The master suite included a roomy sitting area with a fireplace and took up nearly two thirds of the top floor.

The only other room on that level was her home office cum entertainment center where she had the latest in computer and audio/video technology, a true geek's dream. She'd had the initial wiring installed by a professional, but since then she pretty much kept up the equipment on her own, installing upgrades as they came out, buying the latest, greatest innovation. The room was secured with a high-end, double-keyed deadbolt with hardened cylinders and a reinforced strike plate in a four inch solid wood door. Most of her client information was kept here at home, so there was the matter of confidentiality. But she also just didn't like anyone knowing what went on in her inner sanctum.

Below the master suite, on the second floor, was her kitchen in an open floor plan with a den/family room and fireplace of its own, and then two smaller bedrooms, one of which had its own bathroom. The ground floor was mostly devoted to parking; the garage could accommodate two full-size vehicles. There was also an uncovered guest parking space across the driveway, and rarely used. Behind the garage was a beach room with a barred and locked sliding door opening directly onto the sand. There was also a wet bar and a small bathroom. Cyn knew at least one of her neighbors rented their beach room out as a studio apartment, which was clearly against the association rules, but Cyn certainly wasn't going to complain and nobody else had either.

Itching to get started on Raphael's case, she strolled over to her closet, a small room in its own right, and pulled on some casual clothes—underwear, sweats and a t-shirt. Then grabbing the discs, she headed for her office.

She reviewed the gatehouse video first. There was no audio, but it was obvious what had happened, with or without sound. The abductors had clearly counted on the human guards being busy with morning routine, preoccupied with the shift change. The driver showed up in a typical small business van, claiming a delivery of some sort, pulling the attention of both gatehouse guards into the argument before his buddies came out of the back, shooting. It would never have worked with the vamps and their heightened senses, plus they moved too damn quickly to be caught out that easily. But the humans fell into it, dead before they knew what was happening. Add the fact that Raphael was out of town, which meant security was much lighter than usual, and regardless of how much he claimed to treasure Alexandra, his first rate security types all seemed to travel with him. The abductors knew all of this, of course; the traitor had seen to it.

But it came back to the same question. Why Alexandra? Why was she so important to him? Cyn remembered the look on his face when he spoke of her last night. It was almost as if it hurt him to think about her, as if he felt ... guilty. That was it. He felt guilty somehow about Alexandra. Was she a former lover, maybe? She tried to remember the words he'd used: “I killed her Sire and made her mine.” So, he'd torn her away from her Sire, obsessed with having her for his own. But no obsession could last forever, and immortality could probably turn love to hate after a few decades. But Alexandra still needed protection and Raphael felt responsible. So he gave her what she'd always wanted, the life of fine French lady.

A sharp beep sounded in Cyn's headphones, jarring her back to reality. “Good imagination, Cyn,” she said out loud. “Better cut back on those romance novels.” But she couldn't shake the feeling that some part of it was true.

She moved onto the next file, determined to leave fanciful theory behind and stick with the facts. Regardless of their relationship, whoever took Alexandra clearly planned to use her as blackmail against Raphael, but Cyn couldn't see that working. Even if Alexandra was eventually released, Raphael already knew at least some of those involved, and the vampire lord didn't strike her as a forgiving kind of guy. So, either the captors were incredibly stupid or they had something else in mind. Since the abduction seemed to indicate at least a minimal level of intelligence and planning, she ruled out stupidity. A trap, then. Let Raphael search high and low for his beloved Alexandra, think he'd found her and then kill him when he showed up rescue her. Again, everything she'd seen of the vampire lord seemed to rule out the possibility of him falling for such a ruse. And why not simply kill Alexandra outright? Much easier all around, and she didn't actually have to be alive for a trap to work. She'd have to ask someone. Not Raphael; that was a little blunt even for Cyn. But maybe Duncan.

In any event, it had taken arrogance to plan a move this bold against a vampire as powerful as Raphael, to invade his private estate and snatch his favorite ... whatever the hell she was. And why was Cyn so obsessed with it anyway? She remembered her incredibly erotic dreams and shook her head. Stupid. It was always bad news to get involved with a client, but when the client was a vampire ... Well, that went way beyond bad news. Focus, Cyn. Just do your job.

She moved through all the video feeds quickly, seeing nothing she hadn't expected and finding herself impressed with the level of Raphael's security. The only part of the faux French manor house not at least partially wired for sight and sound was the basement room itself, with its nest of electronics and inexplicable bank vault which, having seen the main house, she was now pretty sure hid sleeping quarters for the vamps. She shook her head impatiently and moved on to the two angles of most interest to her, pulling on her headphones to enhance the weak audio. One was the piano room, with the images of Alexandra and the two vampires, but the other was the kitchen door on the side, the exit the abductors had used, the place where they'd parked their vehicle while they infiltrated the house itself.

She cued up the piano room and watched with fresh amazement as Matias was dusted right before her eyes. She'd half thought Duncan might delete that particular image. Those fifteen seconds of video all by themselves could net her a small fortune ... if she was stupid enough to betray a vampire lord. But, goodness, what the television networks would pay for footage of a vampire actually being poofed!

Light from the hallway washed over her monitor, bleaching out the video image and blinding her as she spun around in the darkened room, but not before she'd hit the hot key and blanked the screen.

Schooling herself to remain calm, she removed her headphones and stared at her sister, who stood in the open doorway. “Holly,” she said slowly. “I've asked you before not to interrupt me when I'm working in here. It's a matter of privacy for my clients.” She walked over to the door and maneuvered her sister out into the hallway. “Just give me a moment to close my files, and I'll meet you downstairs.” She didn't wait for an answer, but stepped back inside and closed the door.

Holly immediately began knocking rapidly on the door and calling her name. Cyn ignored her long enough to cross to the computer and close the video file, then yanked the door open once again.

"Jesus, Holly! I'm working. What could possibly be so important?"

"What the hell's wrong with you? I knocked before I opened your precious office door. It's not my fault you didn't hear me." ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">