Chapter Nine
CYN HUDDLED NEXT to the bulky SUV, arms wrapped around her head as debris fell like rain. It seemed to go on forever, while she listened, over the ringing in her ears, to the cries of people injured in the blast. Human cries, attackers and defenders both. There’d been no vampires in this house, though Raphael’s people had gone to great lengths to make sure their enemies thought there were. This was the house where Mathys had approached Raphael, and where he’d died. So, maybe one vampire had died here, after all. She didn’t give a damn about Mathys, or about any of the attackers who were crying in pain. Let them suffer. But Sipes people . . . New calls broke through her awareness, and she realized it was her comm which had fallen from her ear. She slipped it into place and heard the reassuring sound of Steve Sipes organizing the recovery, even as he made sure the estate perimeter was being guarded.
“Robbie.” She went to stand up, reaching automatically to her pocket for a fresh mag and . . . Fuck, that hurt! Her arm was bleeding like a motherfucker, and it burned like the fires of hell. Shot or maybe sliced by some of that debris, she didn’t know which. But it wasn’t much of a wound. Her arm was still working, so nothing was broken. But where was—
“Damn it, Cyn.” Robbie’s welcome voice had her spinning around to find him covered in ash as he dragged her back to the ground. “There are still shooters out there,” he snapped. “And fuck, what’s this?” He took hold of her arm, shaking his head as he pulled a small first aid kid from one of his many pockets.
“They’re running away,” she complained, realizing even as she said it that, broken bones or not, she might be a little shocky.
“Don’t worry about them. Sipes has it,” he muttered, and it was as if she was hearing him through water. Weird.
A warm thread of blood was doing a slow creep down her arm where Robbie had ripped her T-shirt sleeve out of the way. It matched the warm trail of tears on her cheeks. She looked up at him. “You know what this means, right?”
“Yeah, it means we’re going to war tonight.”
“A vampire war. You and I should steer clear.” She met his eyes a moment before they both started laughing.
Maybe, if they’d been back home in Malibu, she’d have been right. Vampire battles were short and brutal and usually didn’t involve human soldiers. But here on foreign soil, Raphael would want to use every weapon at his disposal, including his very well-trained and heavily armed human fighters. Not her, of course. Despite the years they’d been together, and his recognition of her skills, Raphael would still have preferred leaving her behind to keep the home fires burning.
She never did, but that didn’t stop him from trying.
“Good one, Cyn,” Robbie said. He finished with her arm and put away his kit. “Come on, let’s get you away from this fucking mess.”
He helped her up, and they took a moment to stare at the wreckage of what had once been a 150-year old villa. The owners were going to freak the fuck out. She shook her head as they made their way around the house, and down the twisting path, until they reached the steep stairs to the house where Raphael and the other vampires slept. They stood at the base, studying the steep incline, then sighed and started climbing.
SHE LET HERSELF quietly into the suite she shared with Raphael, closing the outer doors, with another shake of her head for the crappy lock, and then opening the inner doors to the bedroom. A quick check told her Raphael was still breathing slowly, deep in his daylight sleep, although she was certain he was already aware of the attack and the toll it had taken. While she and Robbie had made their way back, they’d gotten a casualty report from Sipes. The attackers were all dead, no injured. She suspected that was because the injured had been helped along into death, but she didn’t comment. They’d tried to kill Raphael and his vampires. They’d earned whatever fate vampire justice demanded.
There’d been several injuries, some severe, among Sipes’s people, but no deaths. And Cyn knew that all those injured would be treated and healed once the vampires woke for the night. Raphael was loyal to his people, all of his people.
She unfastened her shoulder rig and let it slide down her arms and to the floor. The movement pulled on her wound, but she stifled any cry of pain. This close, Raphael would hear every whimper, every strained breath, even while he slept. And when he woke, she’d hear about it.
Her boots came next. It took entirely too much time to untie them using mostly one hand, but it was finally done, and her pants were easy. The shirt was something else. It was already torn, but getting it off would mean yanking it over her head, and that wasn’t going to work. So, she dug the small scissors out of her cosmetics case and cut the damn thing off. She managed to do it without stabbing herself, which she counted as a win. After that, her sports bra unzipped from the front, and her boy shorts were easy.
After a quick shower, she climbed into bed with Raphael, curling up next to his comforting bulk and pulling the covers over them both, before slinging her leg over his muscled thigh and resting the fingers of her wounded arm against his hard abdomen. She half-expected to lie there awake, listening to the adrenaline zinging through her veins. But she closed her eyes, and in a matter of minutes, she was out.
RAPHAEL’S ARMS went around Cyn the moment he woke. He was careful, far more careful than usual, because she was still asleep and she’d been injured. He held her for a long time, listening to her breathe, hearing her heart beat steadily, strongly. One of the most frustrating, infuriating, aspects of his long life was this ability of his to follow her during daylight. He’d never been able to do it with anyone—man or woman—before. But even before they’d been mated, he’d had a unique connection with his Cyn. He’d haunted her dreams for months after they’d first met, when she’d been keeping vampire hours and sleeping during the day. They’d been separated for a time, and it had been his way of holding on to her. But with every day that had passed since their mating, their bond had grown, and so had his ability to follow her while he slept. On the one hand, he liked knowing how she spent her days, being able to share that part of her life. But at times like this, when she needed him and he was useless to her, he thought he might prefer ignorance. She could be murdered in front of his eyes, and all he’d be able to do was cradle her lifeless body once he woke. That, and take his revenge by destroying the entire fucking world and everyone in it. The one truth that he’d come to accept was that he had no desire to survive her. If she died, he’d tear the world apart, and then walk into the sun.
But not today. His Cyn was alive and well, and lying warm in his arms. He bent his head to kiss her, feeling her lips move beneath his as she came awake.
“How’s your arm?” he asked.
She smiled. “You’re not pissed?”
“Only at the vampire depraved enough to assault my people in daylight when I’ve done nothing to warrant such an outrageous attack.”
“Well, you did show up without an invitation,” she said, sliding her silky body over his as she stretched into wakefulness. “And you are you.”
“Daylight warfare among us has been prohibited for centuries. And for good reason. Laurent could have at least asked why I was here, before crossing that line.”
“He did send his little buddy Mathys to welcome you.”
Raphael snorted. “To spy on us you mean. He was riding Mathys’s mind the entire time he was here.”
She’d gone up on one elbow and tilted her head curiously. “Even when you were interrogating him?”
He gave her a dry look, and she returned it with an innocent smile. As if.
“No, I guess not,” she said, laughing. “So, Laurent probably thought the info feed from Mathys cut off because you killed him. Well, a lot sooner than you really did anyway.”
“Which is why Laurent will be completely unprepared when we attack him tonight.”
“You think he’ll believe his daylight attack succeeded?”
“You have reason to think he won’t?”
She sat up suddenly, her expression intent as she considered his question. “No,” she said slowly. “You can wait for Sipes’s report, but I don’t think any of his people survived to report back to him.”
Raphael tilted his head studying her. She was the picture of seduction as she sat in his bed, the sheet pooled around her crossed legs, her dark hair tousled, her beautiful breasts bare, nipples peaked and begging to be bitten. His cock hardened instantly. She’d had that effect on him from the moment he’d met her. He started to reach for her, but his gaze snagged on the white bandage marring the golden skin of her arm. “How’s your arm?”
She smiled. “It’s fine. I’m fine. There were other fighters hurt much worse.”
His gaze traveled down her delicious body and back up again, and he saw the glint of challenge in her eyes. He grinned.
“You’re the most dangerous fighter I have. Because you love me.”
“Your vampires love you.”
He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. “Not the way you do, lubimaya.”
Her arms circled his neck and she threaded her fingers through his short hair. “Well, that’s true.”
“You know what else is true?”
She eyed him cautiously. “You love me, too?”
“More than life itself,” he agreed. “Which is why, tonight, Laurent is going to die for spilling even a little bit of your blood.” He kissed her hard, then stood up and released her with a smack on the ass. “Get dressed.”
“Tonight? Wait, Raphael, you—”
He spun so fast that she was startled into silence. This wasn’t her loving Raphael anymore. This was Lord Raphael, the strongest, most terrifying vampire alive. “It’s not only Laurent’s cowardice in attacking during daylight that demands I kill him, though that would’ve been provocation enough. It’s that they won’t stop coming until they’re all dead.”
“They? They who?”
“Get dressed. I’m only going to have this argument once.”
CYN WAS FUMING by the time Raphael had gathered his inner circle, which included Juro, and his twin brother, Ken’ichi, Jared, Cyn herself, and, for this trip, Steve Sipes. Normally, Steve wouldn’t be included in discussions that revolved around vampire affairs, but because they were on foreign soil, and since Laurent’s attack had happened in daylight, he’d been invited.
She didn’t like it that Raphael had made her wait, but admitted to herself that it made sense. If he planned to attack Laurent tonight, then time was of the essence. They had whatever intel Raphael had managed to rip out of Mathys’s brain, and with Raphael doing the ripping, she was sure he’d managed to bypass most of whatever false intel Laurent had tried to plant in there. She was also certain that Raphael had spies of his own. But that didn’t change the basic facts. They were operating in unfamiliar territory, going up against an opponent who was holed up in the most secure location a vampire could ask for—his own lair. But it didn’t matter. Raphael’s vampires were gunning for blood just as hard as he was.
“We’re going in tonight, Sire?”
Juro’s opening question told Cyn everything she needed to know. Except what she was missing. Who were “they?” Raphael had said they wouldn’t stop coming until they were all dead. It couldn’t be European vamps in general. That was too much for even Raphael to undertake. So, who the hell were they?
Raphael nodded in response to Juro’s question. “He won’t expect it.”
“What if he’s planning his own nighttime attack?” Jared asked, swinging a chair around, but not sitting on it. They were all standing, as if sitting would take up too much time.
“Laurent’s more cautious than that. He sacrificed that idiot Mathys because he wouldn’t launch even his daytime assault without feeling us out first.”
“He lost his entire attack force today.”
“But they were only humans. Mathilde never placed any value on humans, and neither will Laurent. He’ll know his people breached the house and detonated their bomb. I’m shielding myself and most of my fighters, so he may believe he succeeded in killing at least some of us, possibly including me. He’ll send in his vampire scouts next, to gauge the effect of his attack, before deciding how to proceed.”
“Wait,” Cyn insisted. “How do you know—”
“Laurent is one of Mathilde’s,” Raphael said, turning to spear her with a look. “Psychotic bitch that she was, she demanded absolute devotion from her children, and made sure of it by destroying any vampire of her making who displayed other than religious zeal in their love for her. If we don’t wipe out the nest, they’ll just keep coming.”
She understood suddenly. They were all of Mathilde’s vampire children. And Raphael meant to kill them all.
Raphael was studying her, waiting for her reaction.
She stared back at him, holding his gaze for a defiant moment. Then she grinned and shrugged. “Okay, I get it. What’s the plan?”
RAPHAEL STARED at his Cyn, his eyes tracing the elegant line of her jaw, the sweep of lashes over green eyes. Every protective instinct he possessed wanted to order her to remain behind, to remain safe. He swallowed the words before they were more than a thought, but she heard them anyway. She’d read his mind. Not literally, but it hardly mattered. The effect was the same.
She grinned at him, her eyes gleaming with challenge.
He didn’t ask her to forgive him for even thinking about leaving her behind. But he didn’t need to. “Apparently, being in the old country is changing me already,” he murmured by way of an apology. “The plan is, we’re going to kill them all, and then we’re going home.”
And, just as she’d known his earlier thoughts, she understood what he was saying now. He needed her by his side. Even in war.
She leaned close and said softly, “It’s okay, fang boy. If you want to kill Laurent and everyone else in Mathilde’s filthy brood, I’m with you.”
Raphael kissed her forehead, and then raised his voice to include the others. “We have one hour to formulate a plan.”
THEIR STRATEGY WAS straightforward. Most of Raphael’s were. Hell, most vampire battle plans were. There was a code of sorts in vampire society that said the guy with the most power wins. And among vampires, power was measured not in how many weapons or warriors you could bring to bear, but in the raw power of the lord leading the attack. Sure, it mattered how strong his vampires were, because they kept the other guy’s fighters off his back, and served as a reservoir of power for him. But in the end, it still came down to one guy. Mathilde had tried to get around that by using magic, but it hadn’t worked. Magic could only augment what was already there, and she simply hadn’t had the power. She’d been forced to confront Raphael one on one, and she’d paid the ultimate price. Laurent had followed in his mistress’s sneaky footsteps when he’d sent his assassin, Tristan, to take Raphael out, and again with his forbidden daylight attack.
With all these exceptions to tradition, Cyn had begun to speculate out loud about how much longer the traditional code would continue to hold sway.
For Raphael, however, the old traditions still mattered. Not only because he was five hundred years old, but because he had so much more power than any of his enemies. He didn’t need to resort to daylight subterfuge or any kind of assassination. If there was going to be any killing, he’d do it himself. And probably enjoy the hell out of it.
Like tonight. Little more than an hour after sunset, Raphael’s people were already moving to surround Laurent’s villa, while he shielded them against detection. The villa itself was ancient, but the dim lights showing through the covered windows told him it had been updated. This had been Mathilde’s headquarters for hundreds of years. Raphael himself had visited here when he’d been younger. She’d had a taste for handsome young vampires, but Raphael had proven far too powerful for her peace of mind. He hadn’t remained in her court for long. Christian, who was now Lord of the South, and one of Raphael’s allies, had been Mathilde’s child—one who’d broken with her over her plans to use magic against Raphael. He held no love for Laurent and had been more than happy to provide updated and detailed plans of the villa’s layout.
The estate consisted of three buildings, all pale gray stone with peaked roofs of darker gray shingles. One of the outbuildings was a barn that had been converted to a garage, while the other contained the estate’s human residents—its daylight guards and few human servants. At least those who hadn’t died in the daylight assault. If they stayed out of the fight tonight, Raphael would leave them alone. If they joined in, they’d die like everyone else.
Raphael’s focus was the main building. Two stories and a basement, with—he scanned a second time to be certain he hadn’t missed anyone—twenty-three vampires inside. Laurent stood out, not only because of his power—which was considerable—but because he was the only vampire who carried the mantle of a lord. That responsibility marked a vampire on the level of what some would call magic—it was the effect of all those vampires drawing life-giving energy from their lord. But it was also a source of power. Because just as those many vampires drew from their lord, he could draw upon them, too. He could drain his people dry in an emergency, killing them one by one as he fought to save his own life. It wasn’t something Raphael or any other honorable lord would do, but he had to consider it when dealing with his enemies. Mathilde had sucked every last ounce of life from more than 100 master vampires when she’d fought against Raphael. He had to believe that her favored child, Laurent, would do the same.
“Going in.” Raphael sent the message telepathically to the more than two dozen vampires in his attack force. Steve Sipes and his people weren’t part of the attack; they had another role to play tonight.
Raphael approached the door flanked by Jared and Cyn. The safest place for her was next to him where he could protect her. Or, he thought in amusement, where she could protect him.
He knocked, or maybe pounded, on the door, making his presence known. Before the sound finished rolling through the villa, he sensed Laurent’s shock and knew the other vamp would be scrambling for protection, trying to figure out how Raphael had managed to reach his doorstep without a whisper of warning.
The door was opened by two bulky vampires, obviously security types—both dressed all in black and carrying visible weapons beneath their well-tailored jackets. The two vamps did a lot of bowing and welcoming, none of which was necessary. Raphael didn’t need anyone’s invitation to enter this house, it was already his. He’d killed Mathilde. Everything and everyone she’d owned belonged to him, no matter whose ass currently sat on her empty throne.
Leaving Laurent’s greeters behind, he strode with Cyn and Jared down the wide corridors to Mathilde’s old throne room, where he could sense Laurent’s presence. But even if he hadn’t felt Laurent’s power there, he’d have known where to find him. Mathilde had been firmly entrenched in the social and political mores of her human youth, when powerful men and women had proved their superiority by forcing others to stand around in useless attendance. Laurent was her child. He’d be no different.
Seeing where he was headed, Jared increased his pace enough to shove the throne room doors open and enter ahead of Raphael. He paused for the briefest few seconds—long enough to verify the absence of any surprises, but not enough to break Raphael’s stride—and then stepped aside as Raphael strolled in with Cyn at his side.
“Raphael, I assume,” Laurent said pleasantly. He sat on the same throne that Mathilde had used all those centuries ago, one vampire by his side—presumably his lieutenant—and several others simply hanging about, though they all stiffened to attention when Raphael entered. “Welcome to your lovely mate, as well,” Laurent continued. “Ms. Leighton, yes? Though I’m told they call you ‘Cyn.’”
Cyn gave him a bland stare, then turned away with a yawn. Laurent snarled in anger before he could stop himself, but Raphael laughed out loud and pulled Cyn close enough for a brief kiss to her temple.
“Welcome to Nice,” Laurent said, forcing the words through gritted teeth.
Raphael eyed him silently. “I hardly need welcome to that which is mine.”
The other vampire’s eyes narrowed in fury, but he controlled his reaction. He might not be a match for Raphael, but he was too shrewd to be easily provoked. “Fine. Let’s not pretend, then. You come into my territory with no invitation, no warning, and now you claim it as yours? On what grounds, Lord Raphael?”
“By the most ancient law of our people, Laurent,” Raphael said, intentionally leaving off the honorific. “I killed Mathilde, therefore her territory is mine.”
“You killed Lady Mathilde, but you never claimed the territory,” Laurent countered. “Her many vampire subjects were abandoned. They would have died, had I not stepped in to take care of them. That makes them mine.”
Raphael smiled slightly. “We both know that’s not true,” he said, quietly enough that only those closest could hear. “I made sure Mathilde’s people were well-protected when she died. And my power is protecting them still.”
Hatred brightened Laurent’s eyes with the red-bronze glow of his power. “Well, you can stop wasting your power, then, because they’re now under my care.”
“If that’s true, then why waste that power trying to kill me. Not once, but twice.”
The vampires lingering at the edges of the room stirred nervously, glancing at Laurent, as if sensing the growing tension in the room, and waiting for their lord’s orders.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Laurent said with an elegantly dismissive wave of his hand.
Raphael’s laugh was loud, full of genuine amusement . . . until it wasn’t. Humor fled as his expression turned cold, his black eyes frosting with the starlight gleam of his power. “That’s a lie, Laurent,” he growled. “And the last one you’ll tell.” As he said it, he telepathed a single word to his vampires. “Now.”
In the instant the attack began, Raphael lashed out with his power, a blast aimed at pinning the self-styled Lord of Nice to his throne. But Laurent was no weakling. He anticipated the blast and raised a protective shield in seconds. The hasty shield whined with the friction of power on power, but it held, even as his many vampire minions hanging around the room jumped into the fray. None of them attacked Raphael directly. They were too smart for that, too protective of their own lives. Raphael was Laurent’s job. Their job was to go after Raphael’s people, to distract him and deprive him of their support.
Some went after Jared, not realizing that the vampires of Raphael’s inner circle were among the strongest vampires in North America. Jared was one of those. He spun to face the attackers, to protect his lord’s back, to kill his enemies. His weapon of choice was knives. He especially enjoyed using his power to drive the blades through flesh and bone. He liked swinging them through the air in a dance that was as much magic as skill, and then stepping over the bloody remains of his dead enemy as he moved to the next. The outcome of his battle was never in question. Two of the attackers fell to dust with knives in their hearts, and one of the others was in danger of bleeding out on the marble floor as arterial blood began to pump around the hilt of a third well-placed knife. The final fighter circled warily, testing Jared’s power against his own, looking for weaknesses, something to exploit. An expression crossed his face, one of determination and resignation. He had no choice but to fight. He’d watched his fellow vampires fall one by one, and now hated Jared with every ounce of rage in his body. This was Laurent’s territory, and he would defend it to the last drop.
But even as Jared was dispatching his final opponent, Raphael’s attention was on Cyn and the vampires swarming around her. Laurent’s people had made a critical mistake. They looked at her and saw a woman, a human, a victim. And they forgot the most basic rule. Guns kill.
It wasn’t only Raphael’s vampires who trained ceaselessly to fight and kill. Cyn trained right along with them. Hell, she trained harder than any of them. She was ruthless and disciplined in a fight, a born killer—which was something she only admitted to herself in the dark of night when no one but Raphael was around to listen. She hadn’t needed Raphael’s telepathic order to know when it was time for the battle to commence. Her instincts had lifted her weapon a heartbeat before he’d whispered the word of command in her head. Her MP5 was firing while the single syllable was still drifting in the ether, the deadly weapon on full auto with a 100-capacity mag. A stake to the heart might be the traditional favorite, but his Cyn liked the raw efficiency of a good machine gun. She swept the room, mowing down vampires, wading into the blood and guts to kill up close and personal, where death wasn’t certain. One or two vampires tried to come at her from behind, but Raphael took them down with brutal precision, covering her back just as he did Jared’s, without ever breaking his concentration on Laurent.
Out in the rest of the house, Raphael’s fighters attacked from all sides, coming in through doors and windows, snaking down hallways, battering their way into every room. Where they encountered resistance, they fought and they killed. And what they lacked in power, they drew from Raphael. He was aware of every one of his people, his presence a thundering wave of power that crashed through doors and cracked walls. It terrified his enemies and reassured his fighters. Lights flickered and died, as modern electricity met ancient power and lost, as vampires welcomed the darkness with eyes that gleamed with power.
Raphael was aware of every death, every wound, even as he waged his own fight against Laurent in the throne room. They battered each other’s shields, neither breaking through—Raphael’s was like a brick wall, but one without so much as a chip in the stone. He stood there like a statue, his shield deflecting everything Laurent tried to throw at him, as he focused on the battle around them instead. The conflict turned almost too quickly, as Laurent’s people weakened and surrendered, or were killed, and Raphael’s people changed their strategy, no longer needing his protection.
Which meant Raphael no longer needed to share his power.
His awareness withdrew from the wider front of his attack and returned to the throne room. He’d expected a barrage of gunfire to greet him. Instead he found gore-spattered walls and a floor covered in the bloody mud that resulted when too many vampires died a brutal death in too small a place. He needed to end this, before more people got pulled into a fight that Laurent simply couldn’t win. Mathilde hadn’t been strong enough to defeat him, and neither was her heir.
Raphael checked Cyn first, noting the multitude of small cuts bleeding through rips and tears in her shirt, the dark bruise swelling over one cheekbone. But when she turned to check on him in turn, her green eyes sparkled, and her smile beamed. She was beautiful and ferocious in her victory, and she was his. His body stiffened with desire, but this battle wasn’t over yet. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a quick, passionate kiss, satisfying the deep need to touch her, to know she was alive and well and with him. And then he turned back to Laurent, the vampire who’d killed Raphael’s people and attacked his home, who’d sunk so low as to send a daylight force to butcher his vampires while they slept. It was time.
LAURENT’S EXPRESSION darkened when he took in Raphael’s determined gaze. Girding himself for the fight of his life, he stepped into the center of the room and faced Raphael fearlessly . . . until Raphael let loose the full, terrible weight of his power, and Laurent recognized his mistake. He’d thought he’d already faced and survived everything Raphael had to offer, that he still had a chance.
But no longer. He was going to die. And his followers—vampires he’d nested with for more than a century, vampires who’d been loyal to him when he’d risen to take over Mathilde’s territory, who’d counted on him to protect them—were going to die along with him. He might not value human life, but neither was he Mathilde, to throw away his vampires without reason. His heart broke at the realization that most of his people were already dead, and that the rest would soon follow.
He opened his mouth to plead for mercy—not for himself, but for his people—and saw nothing but death in Raphael’s cold stare.
RAPHAEL SAW THE moment Laurent accepted the inevitability of his own death. And he knew that Laurent would fight anyway. He couldn’t win, but he hoped to gain time for some of his people to escape.
Raphael respected the hell out of that sentiment. He would have done the same. But he couldn’t permit any of Mathilde’s children to live. If they’d accepted her defeat and left him and his alone, he’d have ignored them. No matter what he’d told Laurent, he didn’t want Nice or any other part of Europe. But they’d come after him, and, in doing so, they’d signed their own death warrants.
They were Vampire, and there was no mercy in their world.
Still, Raphael’s rage fell to dust in the face of Laurent’s devotion to his people. He couldn’t let them live, but he could make it quick. Without so much as an indrawn breath to give away his intent, his power reached out and stopped Laurent’s heart. Laurent’s brain fought to reconcile the sudden failure, the vampire symbiote in his blood racing to the stuttering organ in an attempt to save him. But it was too late. The symbiote was magic, but so was Raphael. Laurent died, and as he died, his people died. Vampires across the territory reached out for their new lord, but there was no one to save them. Raphael made sure of it.
He watched impassively as Laurent’s dust settled to the floor, standing immobile until Cyn’s hand touched his back, her arm sliding around his waist. Lifting his arm, he pulled her against his chest as Juro rushed into the room and was brought up short at what he found. He exchanged a questioning look with Jared, and said, “Sire?”
Raphael glanced up. “Is the plane ready?”
Juro nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
“Then let’s go home.”
The limos were waiting when they piled out of Laurent’s now empty villa. Raphael didn’t know what would happen to the property. Some new vampire would move in, maybe even try to rule the territory. He didn’t care. Europe’s vampire politics interested him only insofar as they tried to destroy what was his. He didn’t fool himself into believing this was the end of it, though. He’d destroyed Mathilde and her brood, and probably eliminated any threat from this specific region for the foreseeable future. Unfortunately, the basic problem presented by Europe remained. They had too many vampires and not enough territory. Three European vampire lords had attempted to invade North America and take territory by force—Mathilde and Hubert from France, and Berkhard of Germany. But Raphael’s spies told him many more would follow. Not on as grand a scale as those three, perhaps—the European vampires had learned from the others’ mistakes—but smaller incursions, attempts to snip away land around the edges, rather than seize an entire territory.
It wouldn’t work. The North American vampire lords were stronger than the Europeans knew, reinforced by their newfound alliance. But lives would be lost in the trying, and that was unacceptable. There was a much simpler solution to the European problem—thin the herd. It was something the European vampire leaders seemed unwilling to do.
So, Raphael and his North American Alliance would just have to do it for them.
CYN WAS HALF asleep with adrenaline crash by the time they arrived at the airport. She roused when their limo turned off the main highway and onto the utility road that circled the airport. Gone were the crowds and the paparazzi. Steve Sipes and his crew had ensured that Raphael’s private jet would be ready for him, waiting in a discreet hangar, well away from the main terminals. Most of the traffic on this road happened during the day, when the various mechanical crews reported in and out of their work shifts in the nearby maintenance hangars.
Inside the hangar where the jet waited, there were no lights at all. They’d be taking off with a vampire crew. It was nearly impossible to fly from Europe to California without crossing through daylight, however, so a trusted human crew was on-board, ready to take over under Sipes’s supervision. Unfortunately, their abrupt departure meant they’d be landing in daylight in Los Angeles, which was even worse. They’d have to sleep on the jet again, until nightfall.
“Daylighting on a fucking airplane. Again.” Raphael glowered at the jet from within the limo, as if it was the plane’s fault somehow.
“I know, baby,” Cyn said, patting his thigh. “But I’ll take care of you.”
He slanted her a suspicious look, probably trying to decide if she was teasing him or not. She was. But that didn’t change the truth of what she’d said. Nothing would happen to him or his people on her watch.
The limo stopped, with Juro bailing while it was still rolling. A whole bunch of other vampires followed, spreading out to secure the hangar, checking every corner, every cranny, to make sure no assassin lurked. That was highly unlikely, Cyn thought. The plane had been held under guard since the moment of their arrival, and orders for the final flight check hadn’t been issued until they’d left for Laurent’s estate. Only Raphael’s innermost circle had known that they wouldn’t be returning to their rented villa.
But that didn’t stop his security team from doing their job. Cyn yawned and stretched as they waited. There was no greater high than the adrenaline rush one experienced during battle, but there was also no greater crash than when it was over. All she wanted was a hot shower—to wash away the blood and vampire dust—and a long nap with her honey. Unfortunately, the jet’s shower wasn’t all that hot, and it was too small for him to join her. But the bed was more than big enough.
She leaned in and kissed Raphael’s perfectly cut jaw, lingering to slick her tongue over his sharp cheekbone. His gaze shifted from his perusal of the many vampires running around outside the limo, and he smiled slightly.
“I’m covered with things you probably shouldn’t be licking.”
She licked him again. “So am I.”
His smile widened. He knew she hated waiting around almost as much as he did. He also knew what she liked to do after they’d fought a good, bloody battle. “They’re almost finished.”
The limo door opened on his last word.
“Thank God,” she muttered, welcoming her first breath of the jet fuel-tainted air.
Raphael laughed out loud and slid from the limo, pulling her with him into the noisy hangar. “Who gets the first shower?” he whispered, directly into her ear.
“Pfft. You have to ask? I’m a girl.” She broke away and ran up the stairs, boarding the jet ahead of him. But only because he let her.
CYN WAS CURLED up on the bed when Raphael emerged from a shower that had been cooler than he’d have liked. His Cyn had used up most of the bath’s hot water, probably washing her hair. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He loved the smell of her hair.
Checking the internal clock that told him how much time he had before sunrise, he pulled on a pair of sweats and turned for the main cabin.
“Hey,” Cyn called sleepily. “Where’re you going?”
“We did all this to provide cover for Quinn’s infiltration of Ireland. I want to know if it was worth it.”
She sat up, the sheet falling away from her naked body. “Don’t kid a kidder, fang boy. You did this for revenge. Helping Quinn was just a bonus.”
He sank to the bed and cupped one full breast, thumbing her nipple to hardness. She wrapped an arm around his neck and lifted her mouth to his, kissing him until they were both out of breath.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered, then pinched her nipple hard and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”
Cyn flipped him off as he opened the door. He swallowed his laugh and headed directly to where Jared and Juro sat across from each other. They’d showered, as well, using the hangar’s facilities, and both looked up when he joined them, with Jared pulling a pair of cordless headphones out of his ears.
“Anything?” Raphael asked.
“It worked, my lord. Lucas’s people say Quinn arrived in Kildare on schedule, and he’s already made his way to Dublin, with not even a whisper of interest among the Irish vampires.”
“Excellent. Then I’m going to bed, and you should, too. We’ve done our part. It’s up to Quinn, now.”