"Lately?” she repeated with a sinking stomach.

"Gregoire is no longer ... a concern."

Cyn opened her mouth to say something, sucked in a breath instead and let it out. “Okay. What about these two other guys? What will you do with them?"

"I will get answers from them, Cyn,” he said coldly. “Answers which will take me one step closer to my enemy."

She swallowed hard. “I'd, uh ... I'd like to be there when you talk with them, my lord. There are some questions I'd like answered and it's possible,” she hurried on when he gave her a forbidding look. “It's possible I might notice something the rest of you would overlook.” It was a gentle reminder, but a reminder nonetheless, that it had been she who discovered the presence of the infiltrators in the first place.

Raphael glided across the room toward her, his footsteps silent on the thick carpet, the soft wool of his suit seeming to caress his long, lean body. He walked right up to her, not stopping until only a few inches separated them. Cynthia froze, her heart pounding so hard it was visible beneath the fine knit of her sweater. “You're quite right, Cyn,” he said softly. “I am in your debt."

"It's—” She started to lick her suddenly dry lips, then stopped, aware of his eyes following the movement of her tongue. “It's part of my job, my lord. It's what you hired me to do."

"So it is.” He tilted forward slightly, bringing his body a little closer to hers, his breath brushing her skin. “It will take some time, Cyn, to find these men. And the entire night lies ahead."

Cynthia struggled to think clearly. He was so close. Her entire body was screaming at her to touch him, just touch him, just once ... please. She clenched her fists hard enough to draw blood with her nails, and saw Raphael's nostrils flare with the scent. It was like a cold slap in the face. She drew a single deep breath and then another and stepped away. “I've got work to do. If they've overlooked this, there might be something else. And I want to enhance the audio. The kidnappers might have said something to each other, something the main pickup wouldn't have caught, or even something your boy Greg didn't want you to hear."

Raphael's eyes shuttered. “Of course. You will keep me informed."

"Yes. Absolutely. And you'll let me in on the interrogation, right? You won't do it without me?"

Raphael's eyes gleamed. “Oh no, Cyn. I won't do it without you.” He strolled over to the stairs and started downward, pausing before taking the second step. Cynthia, following on his heels, pulled up short when he stopped. “Tell me, Cyn,” he said softly, their faces almost even. “Did you dream last night?"

She blinked, her heart thudding with fear instead of desire. “What do you mean?” she whispered.

He gave her a knowing smile. “I'll be in touch."

She sank to the stairs as he disappeared around the corner, moving far faster than a human could have. The door to the garage slammed loudly and she leaned against the railing, listening until she heard the distant thud of car doors followed by the smooth growl of the limo as it made its way up the hill to the highway.

She stared down at the tiny, blood-filled crescents on her palms. “Well, Holly,” she whispered. “Chuck might have a point this time."

Chapter Seventeen

Raphael stormed down the stairs, his anger building with every step. How dare she treat him like some sort of overreaching commoner! Beautiful women, powerful women had knelt before him as supplicants, begging for a single kiss, but not this one. She thought to toy with him, but it was a dangerous game she played. Oh, he would have her, his Cyn. He saw the desire in her eyes every time she looked at him. He would play her game for now, even let her think she had won. But when she came to him, it would be on her knees like all the others. As for tonight ... There were many who would serve him willingly, many who would eagerly slake his thirst. He yanked the door open and let it slam loudly behind him, pushing him away, locking him out. His rage soared anew with the sound of it. “The beach house,” he growled, passing Duncan without even a glance.

"My lord, is that—"

Duncan's protest was cut off as Raphael's hand shot out, grabbed him by the throat and squeezed until he was lifted off his feet and crushed against the wall. Raphael drew close, pinning him with his gaze, baring his fangs in clear warning. “You are like a brother to me, Duncan,” he snarled. “Even closer. But you too will obey."

He opened his hand and let the other vampire fall to the hard concrete of the garage floor. Duncan knelt on all fours, bent over, choking, gasping for breath. Raphael stared down at him, already regretting this loss of control, fighting the fury that threatened to overwhelm him. The rest of his security detail watched in silence, frozen into immobility.

He held out his hand, dropping it down to Duncan's level. Duncan kept his eyes lowered, crawling forward with a sob of breath and taking the proffered hand. He brought it to his face as if to kiss it, but Raphael withdrew it impatiently and offered it again. “Take my hand, Duncan."

The blond vampire obeyed and Raphael tightened his grip, jerking his lieutenant to his feet in an effortless movement. “The beach house,” he said, spinning around and sliding quickly into the dark limo.

As they drove down the coast, Raphael brooded in silence, aware of Duncan sitting next to him in the back of the limo, of the two other vampires sitting up front. He waited until they were well away from Cynthia's house before he spoke. “Well?” he said.

"We have them, Master,” Duncan said in a subdued voice. “It was a simple matter to check the security footage on the main house."

Raphael's mouth tightened grimly. “A simple matter."

"Yes, my lord. I take full—"

"Don't bother.” He held up a hand. “I am as foolish as that old man in Buffalo. Could this have happened fifty years ago, Duncan? Even ten? No. I have grown complacent, fat and lazy in my comforts. This is a power play. Someone has seen what I did not until this moment."

"It will not succeed, my lord. Your people are loyal to you alone—"

"No, it will not succeed,” he agreed in a hard voice. “My enemy has overplayed his hand and I will know his name before the new moon."

"My lord,” Duncan ventured. “At the beach house...” Raphael gave him a slow, threatening stare. Duncan swallowed, the obvious ache in his throat a reminder of his too recent punishment. “Do you want Lonnie—"

"No. I will select my own."

"May we at least go in the private entrance, my lord?” Duncan pleaded.

"Of course, Duncan. I am not unreasonable."

"No, my lord,” his lieutenant whispered. He pressed the intercom and instructed the driver.

* * * *

The beach house was located in the very center of Malibu, two stories and six thousand square feet of opulence with an entire wall of glass facing eighty feet of prime ocean frontage. It had a private wine cellar fully stocked with the vampires’ rather unique beverage of choice and a huge gourmet kitchen used primarily to feed the very willing donors who crowded the house four nights a week. The house was dark Monday through Wednesday, and on certain holidays, the latter being a small joke on Lonnie's part. The rest of the year was a constant round of parties. Beautiful people of every variety and sexual preference were invited, as well as those among the power elite who fancied a walk in the shadows. The purpose of the gatherings was never discussed, although everyone who made it through the front door knew exactly what transpired in the bedrooms and dark corners. There were no innocents at the beach house.

Raphael glided out of the limo without a word, stalking through his private entrance and into the house. The main room was a huge, wide open space, resembling nothing so much as an exclusive night club. Lighting was kept intentionally low to accommodate the vampires’ sensitive eyes and to camouflage not only the frequent comings and goings of vampire and human alike from the private rooms upstairs, but the less discreet encounters in the corners as well. Music blasted from speakers throughout the interior, throbbing in a constant drumbeat designed to enhance the feeling of danger and of promise. Raphael moved through the crowd smoothly, knowing he was a predator among his prey. He kept his face hidden by the constantly shifting shadows. Humans in his path groaned in mingled fear and lust as he passed, their bodies straining toward him, even as their eyes betrayed the abject terror yammering in their animal brains. He could see his vampires watching him, their master, covertly, glimpses in the darkness of pale faces filled with ecstasy, bathing in the wash of his power and soaking in the desire and fear of the human cattle all around them.

Raphael searched the crowd with a restless gaze, his body hard and ready, rage riding the surface of lust pounding in his veins, driving him to sink his teeth into the sweet warmth of a woman's blood and his cock into the wet heat between her legs. But the one he hungered for wasn't here. She was miles away, hiding behind her steel door and her fragile resistance. He growled in renewed frustration and grabbed a tall, dark-haired woman. She was as eager as the others, dressed to entice with high, high heels stretching long, slender legs up to a firm ass sheathed in a short, tight skirt. Her ragged hair brushed bare shoulders and he leaned over, drawing in her scent. A snarl of impatient fury rumbled in his chest as he pulled her down the hallway and into a ground floor bedroom reserved for his use only. He barely managed to close the door before he sank his fangs into her soft neck, his cock growing harder with every draw of succulent blood.

The woman moaned wantonly, pressing herself against his erection, clasping her arms around his back to rub her breasts against his chest. Raphael ignored her pleading until he'd drunk his fill, until the blood ran from his mouth and he could swallow no more. She gave a small cry of protest when he released her, holding on to him, crying now, begging him. He threw her to the bed face-first, pulling her hips up to meet his groin, pushing the tight skirt up over her buttocks and ripping away the flimsy bit of lace covering her. Freeing his throbbing cock, he thrust it against her, seeking entrance. She arched her back, spreading her legs wider in invitation, panting with desire.