Raphael

She walked over to her desk and leafed through the stack of mail that had been waiting for her. It was the first of the month. There were bills to pay, rent checks to process. Life went on. She opened her banking software and set to work.

By the time she finished, the room had grown dark, with only the small desk lamp and her computer monitor to light the office. She glanced up uneasily, painfully aware that somewhere in the city Raphael was beginning his night. Without her. She pushed away from her desk with an angry kick. She would not cry. She would not.

She glanced at her watch. It was nearly eight o'clock already. Where the hell was Duncan? She cleared her desk, closing folders, shutting down her computer. No reason to stay once this meeting was over. There were no other current clients, and she didn't fancy any new ones right now, especially not the ones who came at night. When the buzzer sounded, she jumped, even though she'd been expecting it. She stared at the closed door and reached out reluctantly to click the small knob on the security screen.

Duncan stood outside, gazing directly at the camera. “Fuck.” She leaned back in her chair and realized for the first time that she'd been hoping Raphael would show up tonight, not Duncan. Her disappointment was bright and sharp, and so stupid. A knock sounded on her door and she heard the vampire's voice. “Let me in, Ms. Leighton. I know you're there."

"How do you know, you bastard?” she whispered.

"Because I can hear you,” he replied, clearly amused.

"Great.” She pushed the release.

Duncan walked into her office alone. Definitely alone.

"Why are you here?” she asked.

"I told you on the phone,” he said patiently. “I brought your final payment.” He laid an elegant, white envelope on her desk. Her name was typed—not written in a flowing hand, but typed on the front. “You did perform quite admirably, but I believe you'll find the compensation more than adequate."

"Yeah, great."

The vampire tilted his head curiously. “You disappeared the other night before I could thank you. I had my doubts about the wisdom of bringing you in, but ... you served him well. That's important to me."

Cynthia stared at the blond vampire with his so human brown eyes. So sincere, so sober Duncan. And so utterly devoted to Raphael. “Can I ask you a question?"

Duncan regarded her steadily, then tipped his head in acquiescence. “Certainly."

"I don't mean to offend, but ... how did you die? I mean what happened that made Raphael turn you?"

Duncan smiled at her. Cyn thought it was the only time she'd really seen him smile. “You're very straightforward, Ms. Leighton. I admire that. As to your question, I was dying, struck down with so many others during the war.” He caught her eye. “That would be the War of Northern Aggression, the Civil War I believe you call it."

Cyn nodded.

"It was 1863, the Battle of Stones River. Thousands died on both sides, many more were wounded. There was so little the surgeons could do for us then, and what few skills they had were given to the officers, or to the men who would live to fight again.” He stared at the wall, his eyes far away. “I was not one of those. Like so many, I was a farmer, conscripted into the army with no training and even less skill. Such a waste.” He shook his head at the memory. “In any event, I was sorely wounded, sliced across the belly, my own hands all that were keeping my intestines from spilling into the dirt. A terrible way to die, slow and painful, with the scavenger birds jostling all around, waiting until you were too weak to push them away. I can still hear the screams of the other men, even after all these years...” He was silent for a moment, then continued briskly. “Lord Raphael found me and gave me a choice. I owe him my life; my loyalty I give freely."

Tears were rolling down Cynthia's cheeks and Duncan stared at her. “Cynthia?"

She wiped her cheeks angrily. “I think that's the first time you've ever called me by my name, Duncan. Be careful; you wouldn't want anyone to think you like me.” She forced a smile. “So, how's Alexandra? She recovering okay?"

"As you saw, it was difficult for her, but under the circumstances, she's doing quite well. Raphael is taking her to one of his other estates for awhile, away from the memories. Though, he is sorry to be leaving Malibu. This is his favorite city.” He looked at her directly. “For many reasons.” When Cyn didn't respond, he continued. “Alexandra has told us how you killed Albin and freed her. Raphael was furious at first; Albin was supposed to be his.” Duncan seemed amused by that. “Alexandra has nothing but good words for you and asks almost daily if you will visit."

"Well,” Cyn laughed nervously. “That would be awkward, don't you think? I mean she and Raphael..."

Duncan stared at her. “I believe you have mistaken the nature of their relationship, Ms. Leighton. Alexandra is Raphael's sister. They were separated for centuries; he thought her dead along with their parents. He still feels guilty, I think, that he lost her for all that time, and Alexandra is not above ... Well. Let us say Alexandra can be rather demanding."

"His sister.” Cyn felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach. She fought to keep the pain from showing and knew from Duncan's expression that she wasn't succeeding. So she turned away, busying herself with taking the envelope—which was filled with cash—and shoving it into her backpack. She switched off the light before facing him again. No doubt he could see her just as well in the dark, but it made her feel less exposed.

"Thank you for bringing this, Duncan. It was kind."

"It is no more than you earned.” He opened the door, looked back as if to say something, then sighed and said instead, “Take care of yourself, Cynthia.” He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

Cyn sank down into her chair and let the tears come. It had been easier to believe there was no hope, that Raphael's feelings for Alexandra and the deadly permanence of that bond cut off any possibility for them. But now, to find out...?

You're a fool, Leighton. If life had taught her anything at all, it was that love could not be trusted. Her father, her mother, her grandmother, even the strangers who took care of her, every one of them had let her down until finally she'd acknowledged that it wasn't going to happen, that she was well and truly alone. But the damn vampire had gotten through to her, had made her feel wanted, needed, cherished even. And she'd responded like the fool she was, letting herself care, letting herself believe that he cared in return.

She stood, shaking herself a bit, straightening her shoulders. What did it matter, really? So Raphael was gone. She'd been alone before and would be again. So she had been a moment's diversion for the powerful vampire lord. So what? The sex had been great, the money generous, and her reputation would certainly benefit, which meant more jobs in the future. So. Great all around.

She picked up her backpack and headed for the parking lot where the rented Lexus was waiting for her. So she'd been a fool. Lesson learned. She'd get over it. A year from now, she'd probably be laughing at the whole thing. But tonight ... tonight it hurt too much.

Chapter Fifty

Duncan swung the BMW in next to a long, black limo that sat idling in the private hangar. Raphael walked across to meet him, waiting as his lieutenant turned off the engine and got out of the car.

"She is well?” he asked.

Duncan nodded, little more than a bow of his head. “She appeared healthy and well-rested, perhaps a bit too thin, but...” He shrugged. “It was a stressful few days."

"Did she—"

"She asked about Alexandra, inquired for her health. I told her Alexandra has asked about her, as well.” He gazed steadily at Raphael, who met his stare.

"What, Duncan? Say whatever it is. I don't want to spend the next several hours in the air with you brooding at my back."

Duncan flushed, whether with anger or embarrassment, Raphael couldn't say. Possibly both. He waited.

"Whether you claim her or not, my lord,” Duncan said finally. “She is yours."

Raphael stilled, his black eyes going flat with brutally contained emotion. Left unsaid, never to be said in his presence, was the other half of Duncan's pronouncement, the corollary that was as immutable as the truth of what Duncan had dared say. For if Cyn was his, and he was filled with rage at the very thought of her belonging to another, then he was just as surely hers.

Behind him, the pitch of the plane's engines changed as the pilot prepared to taxi and he heard Alexandra calling his name. Raphael sighed as Duncan came up next to him, and together they walked toward the stairs.

"Is it snowing yet in Colorado, Duncan?"

"Not yet, my lord, but soon."

He sighed. “I hate cold weather."

"I know, Sire. Let us hope we can return to California before long."

"Let us hope."

The pilot closed the door and had the jet taxiing out of the hangar almost as soon as they were aboard. There was a short delay while he checked in with the tower, and then Raphael was leaning back in the soft leather seat for take off, his eyes lingering for some reason on the bright lights of a restaurant high above the tarmac and the lone figure of a woman sitting at the bar. She was there and gone in seconds as the plane raced down the runway, rising into the night sky over the ocean before banking and leaving the warm sands of Malibu far behind.

* * * *

Cynthia sat at the sushi bar above the Santa Monica Airport and watched a sleek Gulfstream as it soared into the cloudless sky. She didn't know why she'd come here, to this place. She hadn't been to this restaurant in years, not since a brief fling with an FAA test pilot. Her only thought on leaving her office had been to go home and sleep a few more days. But she'd found herself turning in the opposite direction, and here she sat watching someone else escape from L.A.

She stood, suddenly anxious to leave. She was cold and her jacket was in the car. Dropping a tip on the bar, she headed for the elevator, wondering if she would ever be warm again, if there was heat enough in the world to erase the touch of his hands, the taste of his kiss. And knowing she'd trade a lifetime of warm for one more night beneath the cool moon in the arms of the vampire lord. 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">