Bond of Fire (26 page)

She harrumphed softly and barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Nothing had ever distracted her from missing Jean-Marie. She’d even tried the wildest debauchery.

What else was there?

Her beloved house in Oxford and the simple life she led there, filled with books, intellectual challenges, and dreams of sharing her discoveries with Jean-Marie.

For brief diversions, she could go shopping in London. She’d always enjoyed the hunt for the perfect dress, although not as much as little Celeste had. It would at least be better than sitting at home, wishing Jean-Marie was cuddling her again.

Celeste brought the monitors up with a practiced hand. It suited her to let the world believe she was solely interested in power, carnal pleasures, and shopping, while being bored with technology. Only Georges—the one man in the world she utterly trusted—knew how completely she could observe every word and gesture which occurred in her New Orleans headquarters.

She certainly hadn’t told Beau just how closely she watched him. He’d already been an experienced assassin and a
vampiro mayor
when he’d emerged from nowhere to help Ivan the Terrible five hundred years ago. All of Russia’s subsequent rulers had claimed his services over the following centuries, keeping him hidden in that icebound land until the Berlin Wall had fallen. He’d made his way here a few months ago, claiming remarkable sexual prowess. Surprisingly, he’d had the skills to match his boy toy looks and had soon earned a regular place in her bed—but only when Georges was present. She wasn’t enough of a fool to close her eyes near a man obsessed with killing Don Rafael, especially when he quite possibly had the strength and skill to do so. She’d fought too hard and too long for her
esfera
, loved New Orleans too much, to risk it all on momentary ecstasy with a blond slut.

Only Don Rafael, dammit, was worth remaking her world for. The wealthy
patrón
who’d smiled at her on that Mardi Gras and treated her like a lady. And created such surprises for her infinite pleasure. How could she forget what an incredible beauty he’d been in the bedroom? Who else could spend so much time, find so many ways to love a woman’s clit with his tongue? Or the positions he knew for taking a woman from behind?
Mon dieu
, she’d never expected to come so hard when not seeing her lover’s face!

Who could wonder that she’d called him her stallion and craved him? Measured every other man against him? Dreamed of him for decades?

Until he’d cruelly, stupidly rejected her and signed his own death warrant.

Celeste owned an entire block in New Orleans’ Warehouse District, an easy walk from the French Quarter. An enormous, deliberately gaudy casino on the first floor and a nightclub on the second floor lured in hordes of tourists with their King Bacchus theme, providing regular meals for her
cachorros
. Like most young animals, they lacked both taste and discretion. Visiting idiots were therefore the perfect offering, since they lacked the sense to avoid obvious traps like a casino and wouldn’t discuss their humiliation after they returned home.

She personally usually looked for tidbits among the world’s beautiful people, where they fought for invitations to the private club on the third floor. With both Beau and Georges in Texas, she’d long since exhausted her other
hijos
’s ability to interest her, let alone bring her lusts to a wonderfully hot, angry edge just this side of a murderous rage.

Her fingers flew rapidly over the control panel, keying in commands. The great monitor hummed into life, its green power light reflected in her dressing room’s mirrors and the highly polished armoire, where she kept the precious mementos of France.

She’d ordered the fashionable club to be kept extra busy, and her men had done well. Beautiful, half-naked, male and female
prosaicos
sweated to display their charms on the dance floor under ever-changing lights. A bar covered one wall, above which shadow dancers flexed and intertwined lasciviously. She could almost smell the musk rising from their audience.

The private booths were immense, the seats actually circular beds barely screened by floor-to-ceiling shimmering curtains. The walls were covered with pale golden woods, on which flashed an ever-changing montage of past Mardi Gras celebrations. She’d removed all photos of the one Don Rafael had attended, of course.

Drugs and alcohol were common, an easy ploy to ensure her
vampiros
were always under her thumb.
Vampiros
, feeding off prey who believed their emotions came from a bottle, were predators eating a weak diet and therefore desperate for a richer meal—like their
patrona
’s blood. They always begged so prettily to come to her bed.

She began to scan the crowd, her long, red fingernails curling over the joystick. Who should she take to her bed tonight—a
prosaico
or a
vampiro
? Or a mixture? Probably several, since she was so very hungry.

“Quel canon!”
she cooed, zooming in on a stunning blond
vampiro
. He was gorgeous enough to make her forget Beau’s attractions for at least a few days, even if his features had more of a knife-edged beauty than Beau’s angelic perfection. He was muscular, too, moving with the easy grace of somebody who’d earned his strength through daily work, not conquered it in a gym. He definitely had potential. Still…

“But are you strong enough to enjoy my kind of pain,
mon brave
?”

Behind her, Raoul’s eyes narrowed from where he watched in her boudoir mirror.

Jean-Marie stood at attention with Ethan, Luis, Gray Wolf, and Caleb in Rafael’s office at Compostela, inwardly gagging at just how close the afternoon’s attack had come. A woman and her three very young children had nearly died. And for what reason? Because their names exactly matched those of Rafael’s long-dead family. The warning that a terrorist would strike Rafael’s nearest and dearest whenever he chose could not have been clearer.

It was no wonder that Rafael was furious—but that didn’t make enduring his reprimand any easier. Steel shutters covered the windows against the sun, and a small spotlight picked out Rafael’s knightly sword above the fireplace mantel.

“It does not matter what you thought, Ethan, or you, Gray Wolf,” Rafael continued, his anger still dangerously raw. “The enemy penetrated into the heart of my lands, something you said was impossible. He injured my people—innocent people—solely because of their likeness to me.”

“My humblest apologies,
patrón
.” Ethan prostrated himself, something he hadn’t done in decades. “It will not happen again.”

“Bien,”
Rafael all but snarled, gesturing him up. “And you, Jean-Marie, your networks should have done better than this.”

“Mille pardons, patrón.”
Next time, he damn well would provide advance warning of Beau’s approach.

“Take the men away from guarding me and set them to hunting these devils.”

What the hell?

Everyone began to talk at once.

“Throwing more men into hunting for Beau will only cloud the waters.
Mesnaderos
are warriors, not spies,” Jean-Marie countered, terror for his
creador
and oldest friend boiling up. Dammit, he knew they hadn’t done the job Rafael needed by preventing the attack. But this?

“We already have plenty of men hunting for them,” Gray Wolf argued, his voice deepening in a rare sign of imminent rage. “To add more men means taking away from—”

“That’s a trap! It’s exactly what Madame Celeste wants us to do,” Ethan shouted.

“Risking yourself like that is foolish, Don Rafael,” Luis snarled, directly disagreeing with Rafael for once. “It won’t help the
prosaicos
or the
esfera
if they lose you.”

Curses spilled into their logic.

“¡Sí!”
Rafael roared.

They snarled and growled but reluctantly fell silent under the weight of his glare.

Jean-Marie silently berated himself for his own failure, his jaw tightening. He was a diplomat and a spy, not material for a
patrón
. He couldn’t help shoulder all of his oldest friend’s burdens, especially since they’d never talked as equals. Not with four hundred years between them and those two centuries of torture Rafael had endured.

Nom de dieu
, the burdens Rafael carried! It was no wonder the man lost his temper sometimes.

“We must stop them, no matter what. The penalty for failure is death,
mis hijos
. You do not like my punishments—but you will hate those doled out by the enemy more.”

A boot heel struck wood floor, instead of carpet, in the great room just outside, and the assembly fell silent in shock. Definitely not one of Luis’s well-trained servants—but a woman?

“
Doctora
O’Malley?” Rafael called. “Please come in.”

A woman, Rafael’s
amante
, perhaps, since the step didn’t sound and smell like any of the
prosaicas
from the
comitiva
. But here at Compostela? Impossible.

Everyone inside the office turned to face the newcomer, grabbing for their politest masks.

“Doctora,”
Rafael began a formal greeting.

Still dusty and sweaty, reeking of horse and deathly ill dogs, a tall, red-haired woman tossed her Stetson onto the hat rack, strode past everyone else without a second glance, and wrapped her arms around him.

Rafael choked with laughter and hugged her close, his body promptly curving into a protective, loving embrace.

She’d approached him as an equal, and he’d greeted her as one. Sara had offered Rafael something similar, an affection born of shared decades of pain and companionship. But they’d never been peers, not like this.

For the first time in his long life, Jean-Marie openly gawked. In three centuries, he’d seen his
creador
enjoy the charms of many women, but they’d always been well-polished females. What the hell did this one offer to keep him so fascinated? He couldn’t guess.

Ethan’s elbow jolted Jean-Marie back into the present, and he edged toward the door with the others.

“Gentlemen, another minute of your time for introductions.” Rafael lifted his cheek from the lady’s hair.

They stopped and returned to attention, allowing Jean-Marie to discreetly assess her. Beneath the filth, she was a beauty with classic features and brilliant blue eyes.

“
Doctora
O’Malley, may I present to you my
adelantado mayor
and heir, Gray Wolf? You’ve already met his partner, Caleb Jones.”

Gray Wolf bowed, and she nodded politely. Gray Wolf’s smile was a fraction warmer than usual with a woman, possibly because she was a
wildlife
veterinarian. His weakness was, as ever, the places and beings of the earth.

“My eldest
hijo
and
heraldo
, Jean-Marie St. Just.”

Jean-Marie fell back on the first weapon he’d learned—charm. He bowed, smiling as he would have to his father’s favorite mistress. “
Enchanté, mademoiselle
.”

Her eyebrows went up, and she said nothing, simply favored him with a quick jerk of her head. Good God, had she seen through his approach so easily?

“My
alferez mayor
, Ethan Templeton.”

“Good evening, Dr. O’Malley.”

A very polite greeting from Ethan—and a verbal one at that? What the hell had she done to earn so much respect?

It brought her on the alert, too. She frowned briefly before shaking his hand with all the enthusiasm one would handle an unknown gun.

Rafael’s eyes danced but he said nothing.

Jean-Marie studied Ethan, wondering what the hell had been going on. She must have done more than help the Perez family.

“And Luis Alvarez, my
siniscal
.”

Jean-Marie turned back just in time to see Rafael’s
amante
and Luis smiling at each other as if they were members of the same family. What had he missed?

Luis turned to Rafael. “I myself will go to San Leandro on the Fourth.”

Rafael stiffened.

Luis shrugged, his eyes alight while he tweaked Rafael’s dictatorial side yet again. “I am the best one to check the preparations, since it must be done in daylight, as you know,
patrón
.”

“Very well,” Rafael finally yielded. “The children cannot be risked at the picnic.”

Luis bowed and turned to go.

“But I swear to you, Luis, as soon as this is over, you will receive
El Abrazo
, no matter what excuse you offer next.”

Luis spun, his mouth hanging open in shock at his own bluff being called in return.

Jean-Marie hid his own satisfied grin. Only God knew why Luis had dodged becoming a
vampiro
for so long. It was more than time for Rafael to force an end to it.

Rafael shook his head and hugged
Doctora
O’Malley closer. “
Querida
,” he murmured, stroking her cheek. “Will they live?”

“Every one of them will be fine, even the little baby, especially since you gave the hospital a hyperbaric chamber.” She kissed her fingertips and touched them to his lips.

Rafael’s face softened, allowing Jean-Marie to understand her appeal even more. A lady who was a passionate fighter for the defenseless ones, plus being totally unafraid of a
vampiro mayor
. A very rare and seductive combination, indeed.

“It was carbon monoxide poisoning,” she added. “The space heater in the bedroom had been sabotaged.”

“It will be a pleasure to destroy those devils,” Ethan growled.

Rafael lifted his head, not quite glaring at them. “You have your orders, gentlemen.
Buenas nochas
.”

The Texans left quietly, closing the door behind them. They said nothing until they were in Luis’s soundproofed office, far away from the main house.