Sophia (12 page)

“My lord,” Loren said quickly. “We sent out a warning as soon as Marco and
Preston
were slain. Most of our people have already come in, but some have lovers outside—”

“Everyone,” Raphael stated. “No exceptions or they answer to me.”

* * * *

Cyn was out of the elevator almost before the doors were fully open, discarding her jacket on a chair and getting rid of her shoulder rig with jerky, agitated movements. Raphael watched her through half-lidded eyes. She hated being told what she couldn’t do. She’d been on her own for too long. Even as a child, when her only supervision had been hired nannies who cared mostly that she entertain herself and not bother them. He shrugged inwardly. He didn’t care if his restrictions chafed her overdeveloped sense of freedom. He’d much rather deal with her anger than her death. She checked her weapon, ejecting the magazine and working the slide to verify its status—something she never neglected to do, no matter how angry she was.

Raphael slipped out of his clothes, taking the time to hang them in the closet. These quarters were nothing like those in his
Malibu
estate, just a single large room, which served as both bedroom and sitting area, with a generous-sized bath. They were, however, completely private and secure, which was what mattered. The elevator had a coded lockout, which engaged automatically every morning, and no one had the code except for Cyn and himself. And neither of them would have a reason to go out during daytime while visiting. An opinion he was certain Cyn would disagree with.

Finished with her nightly gun routine, Cyn strode over to the closet and began undressing, still avoiding him, not meeting his eyes as she kicked off her boots and stripped off her clothes, brushing against him only inadvertently when she leaned over to snatch up her jacket and hang it up. Raphael’s cock hardened at the sight of all that lovely skin, tightened further as she opened the front closure on her bra and removed it, then bent over to strip away the lacy bit of underwear she wore. Making no effort to conceal the reaction of his now naked body, he let his eyes roam along her curves, pausing to admire her delicious breasts with their rosy tips already swelling beneath his gaze. He growled hungrily and looked up to find her watching him, hands resting on slender hips, eyes sparking. She looked quite irresistibly seductive, although he doubted that was the effect she was going for. He suppressed the smile trying to curve his lips and met her gaze, waiting.

“You trust her?” she asked suddenly.

Raphael’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Sophia?” he verified.

“Of course Sophia,” she snapped. “Was there some other fat Spaniard chick in that room tonight?”

Raphael almost choked trying not to laugh, and he had the brief thought that it was a good thing she’d unloaded her weapon already. “Why Spaniard?” he asked. “She flew here from
Brazil
.”

“And I spent a summer in
Paris
when I was eighteen. Doesn’t make me French. She was spitting all over the carpet when she reeled off that list of names. Trust me, her first language is Castilian Spanish.” Her eyes narrowed, studying his response. “And she sure as hell liked you.”

Raphael shrugged his dismissal. “She’s an attractive woman who’s used to manipulating men with her looks.”

“She’d have gone down on her knees and sucked you off in front of everyone if you’d crooked a finger,” she snarled.

Raphael lost the effort not to laugh, capturing her in his arms before she could explode. He pushed her up against the wall, trapping her there with his greater bulk, letting his erection play between her silky thighs. “An exaggeration, my Cyn. Are you jealous?”

“In your dreams, fang boy.”

“In my dreams,” he purred next to her ear. “There is no one between my legs but you,
lubimaya
.”

“Smart move since I’m the one lying next to you while you sleep.”

“It’s late, sweet Cyn, or I’d give you a demonstration of my dreams,” he said, pretending exhaustion, leaning heavily against her, maneuvering them both away from the wall until they tumbled onto the bed. And then, with a quick, sure move, he looped a big hand over her hip and snugged her beneath him, leaning down to nuzzle her soft neck.

“I thought you were tired,” she murmured, as his fingers found their way over the smooth skin of her flat belly and pushed her thighs open to delve into the velvet folds between them.

“I seem to have caught a second wind,” he teased.

Her heart was pounding against his chest, her breath warm puffs of air as she gripped his shoulders and her nails dug into his flesh. “Raphael,” she gasped, arching up against him as he slipped one finger, then two, deep inside her. She lifted her hips, thrusting against his hand and spreading her legs wider, urging him deeper into her sweet, hot center, smooth as satin and soaking wet—eager for his touch, for his invasion. He groaned, knowing there was, in truth, too little time, though his cock strained painfully, eager to bury itself in the volcanic heat of her luscious body.

Cyn mewed softly, wanting more, rubbing herself against his hand, tightening her fingers in his hair and holding his mouth against her neck in invitation. Raphael pressed his tongue against the juicy swell of her jugular, but didn’t take her, not yet. Grinning at her groan of frustration, he licked his way downward, dipping into the arch of her collar bone and down further until he captured her nipple in his mouth, biting gently. She cried out, hooking her leg around his hip, fucking herself against his fingers. Without warning, he slid a third finger inside her and began plunging in and out, mimicking the action his cock was hungry for, taking pleasure in the slick heat of her, in the trembling of her muscles, the small, hungry noises she was making as her hips pumped up and down, her breath coming in gasps as she whispered his name over and over again, a prayer for release.

And still he waited, waited until she was all but screaming his name, until she was clenched so tight around his fingers that he could barely move his hand. He scraped his thumb lightly across her clit, circling it once, twice and a third time before caressing it fully, rubbing back and forth until her entire body spasmed beneath him, her silken walls convulsing, her nipples so hard he could feel them like warm, smooth stones against his chest. She sucked in a keening breath, the air trapped in her lungs by the sheer magnitude of her orgasm. He lifted his head and sank his fangs into her neck, the rush of warm, sweet blood filling his mouth as she climaxed again and her scream of passion filled his ears. He held her tightly, reveling in the taste of her as she shuddered beneath him, her inner muscles trembling around his fingers as he stroked her over and over again, her body jolting as if shocked every time his thumb caressed her swollen clit.

When at last she lay limp, her arms clinging to him weakly, he retracted his fangs and licked the small wound closed. Crooning wordless sounds of comfort, he pulled his fingers gently from within the still trembling depths of her body, the juices of her orgasm coating his fingers and trailing across her abdomen as he wrapped his hand around her bare hip and tucked her closer in the safety of his arms.

“I owe you a blow job,” she murmured, already half asleep as she curled into his embrace. His arms closed around her, her bare breasts pressed against his chest, the thudding of her heart a comforting metronome as he drifted closer to his daytime sleep.

As the sun’s glow lit the horizon, he smiled, thinking his next awakening would be a sweet one. His final thought as the sun crept fully into the morning sky and stole away both his smile and his consciousness was that the night had ended all too easily. And Cyn hadn’t said a word about his forbidding her to go into town without him.

* * * *

Raphael knew when Cyn slipped out of the bed they shared. He watched in his dreams as she dressed quickly and donned her weapon before kneeling on the bed next to him. She leaned over and touched her lips to his in a good-bye kiss. Raphael raged at her, their connection through the mate bond strong enough that her eyes widened when his anger struck hard at her consciousness. For a moment he thought he read indecision on her face. But then, she drew a breath and whispered, “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

And she was gone.

Chapter Thirteen

Colin sat in front of his office, the cheap plastic chair tilted back on two legs, a weathered, wooden overhang protecting him from a drizzle that threatened to turn into rain as he leaned against the wall and contemplated his town. The office wasn’t much. A single room with a small holding cell and piss poor insulation that left it icy cold most of the time. The only exception was the rare occasion when the sun managed to come out from behind the clouds long enough to warm the place up a bit. Most days he didn’t even bother to come in here unless he had a drunk or two locked up overnight, something that didn’t happen all that often. Most of the drunks he collared winding through town had more or less sober friends who were happy to take the offender off his hands rather than travel back for him, or her, the next day.

But this morning he’d made a point of showing his face in the few establishments sprinkled around town. People had heard about Mariane. It was inevitable, really. The smaller the town the more active the gossip mill, and Mrs. Fremont had no doubt primed the pump on this particular story. His cell phone had been ringing almost nonstop since the attack. Some were worried about their own safety or the safety of their women. Others just wanted the news firsthand. And still others had the facts all wrong and were calling him nearly hysterical with fear about some vampire invasion.

Not that the latter was completely off base. Colin hadn’t missed the parade of big, black SUVs that had zipped down the highway the other night with a limo snug between them. They’d driven right past him on his way home from Jeremy’s. And then this morning, there’d been a message waiting for him from Loren. Apparently, some big honcho had arrived and wanted to meet what passed for the local law. Colin could hardly wait.

He frowned, rocking the chair against the wall behind him. He could understand Jeremy’s anger. Hell, he shared it, although he was smart enough to know that no matter how angry he might be, it couldn’t come close to what the vampire was feeling. But why would a single attack—as vicious as it had been—bring out the big guns like this? And how had they managed to arrive so quickly, virtually on the heels of the crime itself?

His attention was drawn down the block as one of the SUVs he’d just been thinking about pulled to a stop in front of Emma’s, the local answer to Seattle’s coffee shops. Colin let the chair drop to all fours and leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs as he studied the new arrival. The truck’s windows were all but blacked out, so he couldn’t see anyone inside, but the meager sun still rode the sky somewhere behind the thick clouds, so he knew whoever it was had to be human, at least. And human he could deal with.

The truck door opened and Colin stood. A black clad leg emerged wearing thick-soled combat-style boots. He took a half step forward and tripped to a halt when the leg turned out to be that of a tall, slender woman. Closing the truck door behind her, she stood for a moment surveying downtown Cooper’s Rest. It wasn’t much, he admitted, and she seemed to agree, if the frown on her face was any indication.

Her gaze fell on him where he stood under the porch overhang, then lifted to read the sign identifying the office as the local police station. Eyeing him once more, she gave a small shrug and headed his way.

Colin watched her approach. She was wearing clothes that very nearly matched his own outfit—black combat pants tucked into sensible, lace-up boots, and a black t-shirt, although she wore hers considerably better than he did. His smile of appreciation didn’t last long as he registered the existence of a shoulder rig beneath her short, all-weather jacket, its presence in stark contrast to her graceful walk and the way she filled out that t-shirt. He took a step forward when she reached the stairs in front of him, stretching to his full six-foot-four height, his hands grabbing the overhang before dropping to rest on his hips.

She smiled slightly, as if acknowledging his dominance display, before climbing the three stairs to stand on a level with him. “Colin Murphy?” she asked, tall enough that she very nearly met his eyes without raising her head.

Colin tipped his head. “The very same, darlin’” he responded, enjoying a bit of satisfaction when her mouth tightened at the endearment.