Unforgiven (A Cyn and Raphael Novella Book 3) (7 page)

“Raphael,” she whispered, terrified by the strength of her emotions.

“I love you, my Cyn,” he said quietly.

Her eyes filled with tears and she nodded, unable to speak for a moment. “I love you, too.”

He started moving again, but gently now. No longer fucking, no more angry sex. He was making love to her, his cock sliding in and out, slow and steady, his gaze never leaving hers until he took her mouth in a soft, intimate kiss. He broke the kiss, licked her lips in a caress then trailed more wet kisses down over her jaw and the taut skin of her neck to suck hungrily at the swell of her jugular. Cyn felt the sharp press of his fangs a heartbeat before they sank into her neck, felt the heated rush of his bite, and then her world tilted. The euphoric in his saliva raced like fire through her bloodstream, plumping already swollen nipples, making her breasts ache and her pussy clench.

Raphael growled deep in his chest as her sheath tightened around him, the sound skating over her already sensitized skin, making her shiver with pleasure. She clutched the back of his head, pulling him to her, holding on for dear life as her climax swept her over and under. She bucked against the wall, Raphael’s big body the only thing keeping her upright. Her legs were around his hips, her ankles crossed over his tight ass, squeezing him so tightly that he could barely move to fuck her.

Cyn cried out wordlessly, holding back the scream that was fighting its way up her throat, gasping for breath, until Raphael lifted his head and with a wordless snarl broke the stranglehold of her crossed legs to withdraw his cock almost completely before slamming slam back into her, doing this over and over, picking up speed until he was moving as fast as only a vampire could manage, plowing deep into her body with every thrust, his fingers gripping her ass hard enough that she knew she’d have bruises. But she didn’t care.

She fucked him back, her hips flexing to meet every thrust, crushing her mouth against his until their lips tore on the sharp points of his fangs and the blunt edges of her teeth, blood filling their mouths, both groaning as the mingled blood slid down their throats in unison. Finally, Cyn did scream then, her entire body convulsing in his arms as his blood soaked into her system, as the heat of his release filled her body and Raphael’s roar rose to meet her scream in a beautiful song of ecstasy.

RAPHAEL HELD CYN while her muscles slowly eased, her skin silky and hot as her legs untangled from around his waist and gradually slid down to the floor. He held her still, feeling the quivering of her muscles, not certain she could stand firmly yet. Her forehead dropped to his shoulder, her breath hot against his already sweaty skin. He stroked her back, his hands traveling up and down in a comforting gesture, fingers digging in just enough to relax, not enough to hurt.

Cyn’s arms slid around his waist. She rolled her head to face him, still resting against his shoulder, and murmured, “Don’t leave me.”

Raphael frowned. “Never,” he vowed and meant it.

She nodded slightly, then rolled her head back and kissed his chest over his heart. “Don’t die,” she whispered, so softly, a bare brush of breath against his skin that he knew she didn’t mean for him to hear.

Raphael tightened his arms, holding her closer. But he didn’t acknowledge hearing her last request, and he didn’t respond. He loved his Cyn more than he ever had or ever would love another being. But in spite of that, or maybe because of it, he wouldn’t lie to her, wouldn’t make promises he knew he might not keep.

Chapter Four

PASCAL GLANCED over at Alexandra. She hadn’t said a word since they’d driven away from Raphael’s estate, but he could feel the buzz of excitement rolling off of her as she stared out the window of the luxury sedan he’d rented. It wasn’t his usual style. He preferred sports cars, the faster the better. But his mistress had told him what she knew about Alexandra before sending him off on this assignment. She’d told him how Raphael had pampered his younger sister for so long, how he’d built that silly French mansion just for her to live in so she could pretend the centuries hadn’t passed in the world outside. Pascal had actually been surprised, when he’d finally met her, to discover that she’d decorated her prison cell with modern furniture and been dressed like an ordinary woman of this century.

But while Alexandra appeared finally to have come into the 21st century, she was still every inch the pampered princess. Her clothes, the furnishings in her cell, had all been of the highest quality. So Pascal had figured she’d appreciate the comforts of a fine motor car, and he’d been right. She’d stroked the soft leather and said, “My brother has leather in all of his limos. His SUVs, too. He has only the latest models.”

And then she’d instructed him to change the music to something classic in the traditional sense, rather than the classical jazz that he preferred. And, yes, he meant
instructed.
Alexandra seemed to think of herself as royalty, and he, no more than the knave who’d been sent to rescue her. He’d half-expected her to sit in the back seat instead of up front with him.

“My brother bought me a concert grand piano, did you know that?”

Pascal grunted a noncommittal response, and she kept talking.

“It was beautiful, a Steinway.”

Pascal rolled his eyes. What the fuck did he care?

“Where will we rest tonight?” she asked him suddenly, still gazing out the window.

“On the plane.”

She turned to stare at him, her eyes wide. “A plane?”

“Yes.” He swallowed the “my lady” that wanted to spring unbidden to his lips. There was something about Alexandra that sent him back to an era he’d only read about, a time long before he’d even been born as a human, much less a vampire.

He could hardly wait to dump her on his mistress’s doorstep.

“My mistress is waiting for us in Mexico. It’s too far to drive, not safely anyway. Raphael and the others would catch up with us. Your brother has too many human resources at his disposal.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “Raphael will spare no effort to find me.”

Pascal was beginning to suspect Alexandra wasn’t entirely sane. She’d made that last declaration as if it was a good thing, as if she’d been kidnapped unwillingly and her brother’s search would be motivated by love and concern, rather than anger at her escape. Then again, Pascal suspected Alexandra might be right on some level. If any other vampire had betrayed Raphael the way she had, that vampire would have been dusted long ago. The fact that Raphael had let her live spoke to his lingering love for her, which is why their plan would work, one way or the other. They didn’t care if he chased her out of anger or love, as long as he chased her . . . eventually.

“If my plan works,” he told Alexandra, “Raphael won’t even know you’re gone until tomorrow night. And we’ll already be in Mexico.”

Alexandra’s eyes grew even wider. “We’re leaving so soon? You mean flying during the day?”

“Of course.”

“Raphael never flies during daylight.”

Pascal rolled his eyes again. He was tired of hearing about the great Raphael. He wanted to remind this stupid bitch that her perfect brother had locked her in a fucking prison in the basement. But he didn’t. His mistress would not be pleased if he delivered a less than cooperative Alexandra.

“My mistress has sent her own plane with human pilots to carry you. We’ll be perfectly safe.”

Alexandra frowned her doubt, but nodded. “Raphael has two planes, and he uses only vampire pilots.”

Pascal gritted his teeth. This was going to be a long, fucking drive. For the first time since he’d been made vampire, he was actually looking forward to the blissful nothingness of daytime sleep.

“THEY’RE IN MEXICO, my lord. As you suspected.”

Cyn had been on her way out of Raphael’s office, heading for the gym and her nightly torture session with Elke, but she stopped when Jared made his announcement.

“We expected Pascal to take to the air at some point in order to escape your territory faster, and he did. The plane they boarded just before dawn filed a flight plan for Mexico City.”

“Mexico City,” Raphael repeated. “Enrique has never been a friend, and he openly despises the new alliances on the Council. But would he go this far?”

“It could be Enrique’s lieutenant, Vincent, too,” Juro suggested. “Maybe the Europeans offered a quid pro quo.
You help us get rid of Raphael, and we’ll help you get rid of Enrique.
”

“No, it’s not Vincent,” Jared said at once. “He’s not that stupid. Although you’re right about one thing. Vincent has no love for Enrique. I’m pretty sure he’ll challenge the old man sooner rather than later. But he’s been a good neighbor to Anthony. They’ve worked together more than once when things flared on the border. He’s also indicated to me privately that he supports Raphael’s goal of a united Council. I’d put my money on Enrique himself. He’s got a sociopath’s narcissism. He’ll do anything if it advances his own cause, which, in this case, means sparing his own territory from any foreign invasion.

“What if it
is
Enrique who’s behind it?” Cyn asked, drawing closer to face Raphael. “Will you challenge him?”

Raphael frowned and shook his head. “I’ve no desire to take on the burden of Mexico’s vampires. I’m already supporting Anthony in the South, in addition caring for my own. No, if Enrique has helped my enemies in this way, I’ll leave it to Vincent to destroy his master
for
me.”

Cyn didn’t say anything, but she eyed Raphael curiously, thinking about the P.I. he’d asked her to hire, someone to carry a private message to an ancient vampire in Mexico. Raphael’s plots always contained layers within layers. Enrique had been the lone hold-out on the Council, the last one of the old order. And she wondered if there was a connection between that private message for an old friend, and Raphael’s desire to have Vincent eliminate Enrique once and for all.

Raphael’s eyes met hers across the room in silent communication. He claimed he couldn’t read her mind, that she had too strong a will for him to penetrate her thoughts. But that had been a long time ago, before they’d been joined by blood, before they’d grown as close as two individuals could be. Or maybe he simply understood her, because their minds moved in similar ways, both devious in their plotting . . . and merciless in their revenge.

Except for that one time with Alexandra. It had been Cyn who’d persuaded Raphael to let his sister live. She’d been convinced that Alexandra’s death would come between them in the end, that Raphael would see his dead sister every time he looked at Cyn. But now, she thought she might have made a mistake. A living Alexandra was proving to be a huge pain in the ass.

“Are we going to Mexico then?” Cyn asked. Three sets of vampire eyes turned to stare at her. “It’s the obvious question,” she said defensively.

“Whoever took Alexandra will want to meet, face to face. There’s no reason to do this otherwise,” Jared told her. “But even if he’s helping behind the scenes, Enrique won’t want the meet to be in Mexico. He won’t want to be associated that clearly with the plot in case it goes wrong.

That’s assuming he’ll have a say in the matter,” Juro commented. “Or that he even wants to know what they’re doing.”

Jared nodded. “My guess is they’ll suggest somewhere in the South, but close to their safe haven across the border, just in case. They might even let us choose the final location, figuring we’ll trust them more that way.”

“Why would they give Raphael that kind of an advantage? Cyn asked. “What’s to stop us from setting up an ambush?”

Jared shrugged. “Pascal thinks he has us all fooled, that we won’t have time to plan anything once they contact us. They don’t know that we’re already aware of Alexandra’s escape, that we tracked their plane to Mexico. If we were doing a normal investigation, it would take hours just to discover Pascal’s absence and then connect the two departures. In the meantime, the two of them will have been in Mexico for hours. That plane departed just before sunrise and flew through daylight.”

A phone rang on Raphael’s desk. “I told them to put the call through directly,” Juro explained. He leaned over and put the phone on speaker, then said, “Juro.”

“Juro!” Pascal crowed as if he’d just rediscovered his long lost best friend.

“I should have known,” Juro snarled convincingly. “I should have dusted you the moment we met.”

“And made a mess for the lovely Lucia to clean up? I think not. How is she, by the way? You taking care of her?”

“Get to it, Pascal,” Juro snapped, ignoring the other vamp’s attempts to rile him up.

“Let me talk to Raphael,” Pascal replied, his voice suddenly all business.

“Not going to happen,” Juro informed him. “You can fucking tell me whatever you have to say.”

“You’re not calling the shots on this one, big guy,” Pascal said snidely. “It’s Raphael or no deal.”

“Fine. No deal. You can keep her.” Juro reached to disconnect the call, making as much noise as possible in an obvious bid for Pascal to hear the movement.

Cyn held her breath until it became obvious that the ploy had worked. “Whatever,” Pascal muttered finally. “He’s probably right there listening anyway, so here’s the deal. He comes alone, no bodyguard, no driver, no fucking security. We’ll let you suggest a place, so he feels safe. But he comes alone.”

“And what do you get out of this deal?” Juro said curiously. “So far, you’ve got us retrieving our missing goods without giving you anything at all.”

Even Cyn heard Pascal’s soft curse, as if he hadn’t been prepared for the question. “Money,” he said quickly. “I need some seed money for a fresh start now that Klemens is dead.”

“You could have just asked, “Juro scoffed. “Lord Raphael is very generous with his people.”

“Yeah, except I’m not one of his people. You all made that very clear.”

The bitterness in Pascal’s words was unmistakable, and Cyn wondered if he might not have crossed paths with Raphael at some point in the past and made such a weak impression that Raphael hadn’t even remembered. Even so, did he really think they were stupid enough to believe that all of this was about money? She drew close enough to Raphael to rest her hand on his shoulder as Juro and Pascal arranged the final details.

“It will take time to set up a secure meeting place,” Juro told Pascal. “We’ll ask Anthony to play host.”

“Anthony,” Pascal said dismissively. “It shouldn’t take Raphael more than a few minutes to set something up with
him.
Everyone knows who the real power in the South is.”

“Even so,” Juro said, not denying the accusation. “One hour.” He disconnected on the first syllables of Pascal’s renewed protest.