Vampires In America: Raphael Part 15

No time. The vampires would be on her soon enough. Too soon. She stumbled to the cabinet on the back wall near the door and yanked it open, tossing aside the nearly empty boxes and useless tools that were stored there. They were window dressing, nothing more, camouflage for the keypad concealed in the dim corner, where no one would think to look. She closed her eyes, resting her throbbing head on the shelf, her hand stroking the keypad.

Almost there, Cyn. She entered the code, and the harsh buzz of the magnetic lock disengaging was the sweetest sound she'd ever heard.

She made a desperate lunge for the door, falling against it, sliding to the floor inside and shoving it closed even as the first ma.s.sive fist sliced through the metal of her garage door.

How long ago had that been? She huddled on the stairs, listening to her breaths turn to gasps for air, feeling her heart thud in her chest, each beat a little weaker than the last. A sudden crash startled her, sucking away her last breath, sending her heart into a staccato of fear. But no vampire could enter. Not without an invitation. The darkness folded her in its arms. She was safe, in the dark, in the cool dark.

"Kiss me, Cyn," a familiar honeyed voice murmured.

Chapter Thirty-six.

Raphael followed her scent, the delicious enticement of her blood pounding against his senses, making his c.o.c.k swell ruthlessly. She was little more than a blot of shadow on the dark stairs, no movement, no sound. But she lived. Raphael could hear the sluggish beat of her heart, the thin rush of her blood. He dropped to her side, his breath running out in a hiss when he saw what had been done to her. A vampire had done this. Someone had dared to mark what was his.

Rage drew his lips back in a snarl of fury, but he forced himself to calm, to gather her in his arms and lend her the slight warmth of his body. He bent to the worst of her wounds, the ravaged muscles of her neck and shoulder, the skin stripped away, the blood flow weakening as the strength of her heart failed. Her taste on his tongue was overwhelming. He swallowed a groan of pleasure, fighting against instinct, knowing if he yielded now, he would lose her forever. He continued to lick the wound, the clotting factors in his saliva working to stop the bleeding, the euphoric chemicals of his enhanced system easing her pain, lulling her into pa.s.siveness. She moaned softly, a sob of loss rather than pain.

His strong fingers brushed the hair away from her battered face, stroking it carefully from her bloodied forehead, tucking it gently behind one ear. Her breath was a bare touch against his mouth as he lowered his face to hers, whispering against her lips.

"Kiss me, Cyn."

She sighed softly, opening her warm mouth. He bit his lower lip, letting the blood flow, then covered her mouth with his, twining his tongue around hers and feeling her begin to suck gently. His fingers ma.s.saged her throat carefully, forcing her to swallow. She cried out, no longer lost, but hungry and wanting. He couldn't help himself; he clutched her to his chest, turning the kiss from gentle healing to heated pa.s.sion. Cyn responded in kind as his blood warmed her skin, as her body healed enough to feel the ecstasy of his kiss, and her mouth began to demand more.

She shuddered softly into o.r.g.a.s.m, and her arms fell away to trail down his chest, her body going soft beneath his. "Raphael," she whispered.

Raphael felt her lips curve with pleasure beneath his. "Sleep, sweet Cyn."

In the open doorway, Duncan stood as his master carried Cynthia past, helpless to do anything but watch. Raphael paused before the final set of stairs. "She will live," he said, his voice tight with simmering rage. "Twice they have touched what is mine, Duncan. I will know what happened here. And then we will hunt."

The vampires listening outside howled their approval, and Raphael returned a fearsome smile.

Chapter Thirty-seven.

Raphael lay Cyn carefully on the bed, then stood and stripped off his suit coat and tie, loosening the collar of his s.h.i.+rt. As an afterthought, he stepped out of his boots and socks, padding barefoot to the big bed. He smiled as he tugged off her elaborate cowboy boots and tossed them aside. The smile was replaced by a snarl of fury as he removed the rest of her clothing-the heavy, leather jacket improbably shredded, unless one was familiar with the thick, sharp claws that could inflict that kind of damage on even the toughest fabric. He puzzled over her dress, finally realizing that the slinky knit was designed to pull over her head like a sweater. Instead, he tore the fabric open, rolling it off her shoulders and down her torso, sliding over her hips, revealing every inch of her taut, sleek body, her full, heavy b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Ah, sweet Cyn," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely when he saw the silky skin of her mound, waxed bare and smooth. His c.o.c.k ached with wanting her, and he slid the dress over her feet quickly, pulling up the comforter and covering her nakedness. He was not an animal to take advantage of a helpless woman, not even one that drove him to such heights of desire.

Stretching out next to her, he gathered her gently into his arms, keeping the bulky comforter between them, allowing himself a single hand beneath the cover, splayed against the satiny warmth of her hip. She murmured softly in her sleep, sounds of contentment, of safety. He began kissing her face, wincing at the bruises and licking the small cuts, freeing the bits of gla.s.s that still clung to the wounds. His thick fingers were remarkably delicate as he picked out the small slivers, wondering at how they came to be there. His mouth continued its exploration, tugging the comforter down enough to expose the ugly wound on her neck, rage filling him once again at the viciousness of the attack.

"Who did this to you, my Cyn?" he murmured softly, not expecting an answer. There would be time enough for answers after she was healed. And then there would be revenge.

When he'd cleaned her as best he could, he lifted his own wrist to his mouth and sliced it open. Lowering the b.l.o.o.d.y arm to her mouth, he whispered directly into her ear. "Drink, lubimaya."

She protested fretfully, until he smeared blood over her lips. Then her tongue came out automatically to lick it off and she hummed with pleasure, seeking more until her mouth latched onto his wrist and she began suckling like a newborn babe. Every pull of her mouth sent ripples of desire through his groin, as if she were sucking his engorged c.o.c.k rather than his wrist. He closed his eyes against the sensation.

"Will I become Vampire?"

His eyes opened at the sound of her damaged voice, her pain-clouded eyes staring up at him. "No," he said gently. "It is not so simple a thing, nor one I would undertake without permission."

"Then, why?" Her words were slurred; she was already half asleep, groggy from the effects of ingesting his blood.

"It will help you heal."

"Mmmm," she murmured, giving his wrist a final lick before turning her face into his chest and curling into a natural sleep.

He gazed down at her, nearly undone by the trust she gave him. "Would it be so terrible, sweet Cyn?" he whispered. "To spend eternity at my side?" But she was too far gone in sleep, and Raphael didn't know if he wanted to hear her answer anyway.

Chapter Thirty-eight.

"Raphael." Cyn's dream-soaked whisper woke him from his own thoughts, reminding him of the pa.s.sing time. With a final, reluctant caress, he pulled away from her, tugging the comforter up to her chin and tucking her beneath its warmth.

He bent to kiss Cyn good-bye, a quick brush of lips on her forehead that became a sensuous exploration of her skin, her warm mouth. She purred hungrily in her sleep, full of desire for him. He stood, gazing at her with regret before forcing himself to leave.

Downstairs in the garage, human guards had joined his vampires, and along with them a human doctor who was a trusted member of his staff.

"I sent for Dr. Saephan," Duncan murmured at his side. "The guards will remain outside, but I thought perhaps..."

Raphael tensed, fighting the urge to keep her to himself, to let no one touch her but him. But the sun would rise. And he could not be there for her then. He closed his eyes, feeling the first blush of heat against his skin. "Yes. Thank you, Duncan."

"She will be protected, my lord."

"She will be avenged," he said fiercely. Then, he gathered his vampires to him and disappeared into the fading darkness.

Chapter Thirty-nine.

Cynthia woke to a sharp pain in her arm, then a burning as a needle withdrew. Her eyes opened and she rolled from the bed, grabbing the Glock from her bedside drawer as she moved, crouching next to the table, the gun tracking ... a nice-looking guy in a white coat? She scanned the room. She was where she expected to be, in her own condo, her own bed. Looking down, she saw a faint trickle of blood and some bruising around her inner left arm. She looked up at the man's startled face.

He held up an empty blood bag in one hand, plastic tubing trailing over to the needle in his other. "Blood transfusion," he explained. "You lost a lot of blood."

"Who are you?" Her voice came out grittier than she expected and she coughed self-consciously.

"Dr. Peter Saephan, at your service," he said with a pleasant smile. "It's a matter of quant.i.ty for us humans, not just quality." He gestured with the blood bag.

"You work for Raphael?" She relaxed marginally, realized she was naked and grabbed the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around her body.

"I have that honor," Saephan acknowledged. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved, but..." Cyn sniffed herself, wrinkling her face in distaste. "I need a shower."

"Ah, you must be feeling better then. Good. Show me where you keep your sheets, and I'll change this bed while you freshen up."

"Naked here," she said in exasperation.

"Oh, please, I'm a doctor. Besides-"

"Yeah, well you're not my doctor." She waved her hand, ordering him out of the room and making a dash for the bathroom when he complied. "The sheets are in the hall closet!" she shouted, before closing the door.

The water ran red with blood before she finished her shower, and no amount of scrubbing could erase the memories of Albin's teeth on her neck. But her body was clean, her hair was-thank G.o.d-shampooed, and she only had to grab the wall once to stay on her feet under the hot spray. When she finally emerged, scalded nearly pink, she felt a thousand times better. Finding the bedroom empty, and the bed neatly made, she made her way slowly to the closet and drew on fresh underwear, then a comfortable silk robe. Her wounds were healing quickly, amazingly so, but the skin was still tender and she ached all over. After throwing style to the wind and stuffing her feet into a pair of comfortable Uggs, she followed her nose to the fresh coffee brewing somewhere downstairs.

She found both the coffee and Dr. Saephan in her kitchen. "Well, you do look better," he commented with a smile. "Still hungry?"

"Ravenous, but I warn you there's not much in the way of food..." Her voice trailed off as Saephan set a plate in front of her-eggs, scrambled with cheddar and red peppers, crisp bacon and b.u.t.tered toast. She looked up in surprise. "I know you didn't get this food from my refrigerator," she commented, digging in.

"Hmm, no. You're right about that. I sent one of the guards to the store."

Cyn was too busy shoveling food into her mouth to respond.

Saephan poured a cup of hot coffee and put it in front of her. "Caffeine is good for what ails you, too."

"Caffeine is always good, Doc," she said around a mouthful. She swallowed and took a long, bracing sip. "Thanks for the bed change, by the way. And for everything else. I don't remember very much." She shuddered involuntarily. "You said you work for Raphael?"

"For nearly twenty years. And I've changed more than a few b.l.o.o.d.y beds in that time."

Cyn eyed him doubtfully. He looked no more than twenty-five, maybe thirty years old. She glanced pointedly at the uncovered windows. "You can't be Vampire."

"No, no. My partner is one of Raphael's. He shares his blood with me, keeps me healthy. Seems like a fair exchange, don't you think?"

"Did you ever think about ... you know, changing?"

Saephan gave her a blank look. "Oh, you mean rebirth? Becoming a vampire? We thought about it, but then we'd both have to get our blood from someone else and I'm not sure I'd like that, being as how it's such an ... intimate experience. Most vampires pair up with humans, if they pair up at all. And of course, Lord Raphael would have to give permission for my rebirth in any event."

"Rebirth?"

"That's what we call it. Seems better than calling it what it is."

She looked up with interest. "What is it?"

"In a word, complicated. It behaves like a particularly aggressive virus, gobbling up everything in its path, but there's so much more to it than that. How do you explain Raphael's mental power, for example? His ability to communicate with his vampires telepathically, to affect the physical world with a thought?"

"Magic?"

He made a pained expression. "I'm a scientist; my mind cannot encompa.s.s that possibility. Let's say instead that we don't yet have the knowledge to explain it."

"Yeah? Well, this-" She touched her injured shoulder with a slight wince. "Is pretty magical."

"Isn't it though? Of course, Lord Raphael's blood is far stronger than most. I've done some rudimentary research on the healing properties of vampire blood-I'm a trauma surgeon, so research isn't exactly my area of expertise, but it's quite astounding, really."

"Don't let the Botox crowd know about it. They'll storm the walls."

"Isn't that the truth? No worries there. My lips are sealed."

She focused on the other part of his revelation. "So Raphael has to give permission before any of his people can make a new vamp?"

He looked as if he wanted to argue with her choice of words, then smiled instead. "Well, naturally. The vampire lords control the population quite stringently. Can't have stray vampires running all over the country; they'd soon outnumber the regular folks and where would that leave us? Or them, for that matter. You want more eggs?" he asked, noticing her empty plate. "I'd be happy-"

"No, thank you. That's more than I usually eat for breakfast in an entire week. Speaking of which, how long was I out?"

"Thirty-eight hours, give or take. I got here shortly before sunrise yesterday, and you'd already been under for quite awhile. Somebody really did a job on you."

She picked up her empty plate and carried it to the sink. Saephan was there, taking it from her, then rinsing and putting it in the dishwasher. "You need to rest," he reminded her.

"I feel pretty good, a little sore," she said absently, distracted by the sight of her front door. Frowning, she walked slowly across the living room. There was-was that sawdust?-all over everything. Probably because a new door had been installed. She gave Saephan a confused look over her shoulder.

"New door," he confirmed. A look of realization lit his face. "But, you don't remember that, do you? I wasn't here, of course, but I believe Lord Raphael had to quite literally knock the door down to get to you. He saved your life, you know."

"I know," she said somberly. "I remember that much." She was surveying the door, running her hands around the edges.

"Okay, enough excitement. Back to bed with you."

Cyn huffed out a breath. "I don't think so. I've got work to do." She made her way back to the kitchen and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee be fore heading up the stairs to her office.

"Ms Leighton, I must insist. Lord Raphael has entrusted me-"

Her heavy office door swung closed, cutting off the good doctor's last words. Her old friend Benita had betrayed her two nights ago, almost to her death. And Cyn intended to find out why.