Chapter Forty.

Cynthia knew the moment Raphael stepped into her condo, felt the wash of power singing in her blood, as if her body recognized him on some totally different level. She stood and opened her office door, hearing his voice downstairs as he spoke to Saephan. Not bothering to listen to what they were saying, she walked back to her computer and sat down, wanting to finish what she'd started earlier. This case was about to come to a head and she had every intention of being involved in the final confrontation.

"Dr. Saephan tells me you should be resting."

Cyn responded without turning, her fingers flashing over the keys to save and print her work. "I am resting." She took a moment before turning, reaching automatically for the walls that had always surrounded her, shields that kept her from caring too much, from depending on anyone but herself, from letting anyone else care about her. And nothing was there. Her walls had crumbled, and in the empty s.p.a.ces was only Raphael. She sighed and swung her chair around to find him watching her with those black eyes that seemed to see right through her. A rush of heat took her breath away. He was leaning casually against the doorframe of her office, long legs encased in faded denims hung low on narrow hips, a black turtleneck sweater smoothed over his broad chest beneath a leather jacket that showed off those wonderfully wide shoulders.

Was that all there was, this automatic l.u.s.t that seized her every time she saw him? Was it no more than the unique biology of a vampire that made her long for him when they were apart? She wished it was true. It would be so much simpler if it was. But it wasn't. Oh certainly, there was l.u.s.t. She could feel her body responding to him even now, from across the room. But it was so much more than that. How could she define it, even to herself? It was as if he weighed more than gravity as he stood there in her office, as if the world held its breath when he walked by. She stood and walked over to the door.

"I owe you an apology," she said, looking up at him.

He reached out and snagged the belt on her robe, pulling her closer. "Why is that?"

"I shouldn't have left the other day without ... I don't know, leaving a note or something. It was ... a little overwhelming. You're a little overwhelming."

His eyes flashed with sudden anger. "And so you run to someone who does this to you?" He jerked his head toward her newly healed shoulder.

"I was attacked, Raphael, and I'm apologizing here, so don't be an a.s.shole."

Raphael smiled then, a slow, predatory baring of teeth. "a.s.shole? I don't think anyone has dared use that word to me in a few hundred years, at least not in my hearing."

"Which is probably why you're such a big one sometimes." Cyn grinned up at him, then sobered. "Listen, I've got a lot of information for you-"

"Later," he said. "I want you now."

"Yes," she said simply.

A single tug of his fingers made quick work of the tie to her robe, pushing it aside as his hand slipped around her waist, gliding over her bare skin. He crushed her mouth in a hot, demanding kiss and her body responded instantly, the soft leather of his jacket caressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as she wrapped her arms around his neck, as the zipper's teeth sc.r.a.ped over her nipple.

"Raphael," she whispered hungrily and met his greed, pressing herself against his long, lean length, feeling his erection already hard and waiting for her. His soft growl rumbled against her mouth, rolling down her throat and trembling in her chest. She made a soft needy sound, and he swept her up, his mouth never leaving hers as he carried her to the bed.

Raphael pushed aside the silky robe that had taunted him with glimpses of her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her soft curves. His mouth traveled from her lips to her wounded shoulder, lingering on the delicate new skin, then moving down to nip gently at first one breast, then the other, until he had taken each of her sweet, firm pearls into his mouth, grazing them slightly with his teeth. It was enough to draw the faintest sip of blood, enough to bow her back with desire. While his mouth nibbled one breast, his fingers caressed the other, pinching the nipple into an aching tenderness, feasting on the bounty of his Cyn's luscious body.

Over and over, she cried out her pleasure, little moans that sent sparks of hunger coursing through his body, driving him nearly mad with the need to sink his teeth into her neck, his c.o.c.k into her pulsing heat. She was tugging at his clothing, complaining softly as her hands sought to touch his skin, tearing away his jacket and yanking the sweater over his head. He stood to rip off his denims, and Cyn came with him, her slender fingers opening the b.u.t.tons on his fly, slipping beneath the heavy fabric to find his stone-hard shaft. She took him in her mouth, shoving his jeans down below his hips, sucking him deeper as his full length was freed, her tongue playing along his sensitive head. He groaned, struggling to control the desire to plunge into her throat, to f.u.c.k her hot, wet mouth as he would the slick heat between her legs. He gripped her head in his big hands, fingers twisting in her hair, as she glided up and down, her wicked tongue licking him like a favorite candy.

When he could stand no more, he tightened his hold and pulled her away with a muttered oath, pushing her back onto the bed, then following and trapping her there, tasting her, teasing her with biting kisses until she cried out, tearing at his hair and forcing him down to the silky smooth V between her legs. Cupping her a.s.s with both hands, he lifted her to him, spreading her legs, opening her wide to his exploring mouth. His tongue slid into her swollen folds, probing inside her, stiffening like a small c.o.c.k, then stroking upward to her hard c.l.i.t. She gasped in shock as his tongue circled that sensitive nub, rousing it to hardness then biting down to draw the sweetest blood of all, the taste lingering as Cyn screamed in o.r.g.a.s.m, her body bucking against the grip of his hands, his mouth.

Shudders rippled her muscles beneath him as he lapped up the delicious nectar of her o.r.g.a.s.m, eliciting renewed cries of pleasure from his Cyn. "Sweet, my Cyn," he whispered, blowing softly on her sensitive c.l.i.t. "So sweet."

"Please," she whispered. "Oh G.o.d, Raphael, please."

Desire overwhelmed him. He lifted himself from between her legs and drove his c.o.c.k deep inside her with a powerful thrust that lifted her from the bed. She groaned with pleasure, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, trapping him, holding him in the volcanic heat of her slick sheath. He lowered his head to claim her mouth once again, mingling the tastes of their bodies, tasting himself on her tongue, letting her taste her own sweetness on his. He plunged in and out, driven by a l.u.s.t he'd never felt before, claiming her, marking her as his own so that no other vampire, no other man, would ever dare take her from him.

When he felt his climax building, felt the tightening in his b.a.l.l.s that told him he wouldn't be able to resist her temptation much longer, he let his mouth find the sweet vein in her neck, let his fangs run out to caress her sweat-warmed skin and sink into her. Hot blood slid down his throat as his climax shot deep inside her. Cyn convulsed beneath him, joining him in a searing o.r.g.a.s.m, m.u.f.fling her screams against his shoulder as her nails clawed open his back.

He collapsed on top of her, his tongue lapping lazily at the trickle of blood from her neck, feeling her heart pound against his chest. Her legs fell open and he shifted slightly, taking the weight of his body off her slender frame. His semirigid c.o.c.k slipped from within, and she murmured a small protest, one long leg coming up to wrap around his hips, holding him close, nestling him in the warm, wet valley between her legs. Raphael raised his head and chuckled softly. She opened her eyes at the sound and a fresh bolt of l.u.s.t stabbed his groin at the fierce possessiveness in her green gaze. He growled low in his throat. A hundred nights, a thousand, ten thousand would not be enough to sate his pa.s.sion for this one. He felt his c.o.c.k stirring, felt the need to take her again and again hardening his flesh. He'd never felt such hunger for a woman, mortal or immortal. What would he sacrifice in the face of such desire? What would he give up to spend his nights in her bed?

"You are temptation itself, sweet Cyn," he murmured, raising himself on his hands, away from the enticing heat of her body. He lowered his head to kiss her soft mouth one more time, then stood, snagged his jeans and headed for the bathroom and a cold shower.

Cynthia lay on the bed and heard the click of the bathroom door closing, heard the rush of water in the shower. Something had been lost in that moment when he chose to walk away, something elusive and precious. The warm contentment in her stomach turned cold and she felt suddenly naked and exposed.

She rolled out of bed quickly, all but running into her closet to grab some clothes before hurrying down the stairs to the second bathroom. She had a feeling Raphael didn't want company in the shower, and she didn't want to see the look on his face when he turned her away.

Chapter Forty-one.

When Cyn came out of the guest room, Raphael was already sitting at the island counter in the kitchen. He was turned away from her, cell phone in hand, speaking in a low voice. She didn't say anything, but went directly upstairs to her office and retrieved the notes she'd made earlier. Armored with her folder full of information and a job to do, she took the steps back down and joined him in the kitchen.

His dark eyes followed her every movement as she took a cold bottle of water from the fridge and sat on a bar stool, the width of the island between them.

"I did some checking today on the house I was taken to last night," she began. "It was purchased six months ago by Odessa Exports, which is a fairly transparent sh.e.l.l company. They've tried to conceal their trail, but I'm pretty sure I've identified the real owners of the whole mess." She risked a quick glance and found him staring at her intently. But whatever he was feeling was too deeply buried for her to discern in that blank, beautiful face. "Also, you probably want to know that someone's running a blood bank or feedlot, whatever you guys call it, not ten miles from here in Decker Canyon. I'm a.s.suming it's not you."

"Who touched you?" He said it with such offended possessiveness that she wanted to scream at him. What right did he have to feel such outrage? He clearly didn't want her; what did he care if someone else did?

She didn't look at him. He was too good at knowing what she was thinking. "That would be your buddy Albin. Although he was only supposed to taste. Someone else was saving me for the main course."

"Who?"

"I don't know. They never said his name and I never saw him. By the time he arrived, I was trying to get back to my car, and I had other things on my mind," she added dryly. "I talked to two other vamps before Albin monopolized my time. A big dope named Tommy and..." Her voice faltered as she remember Benita wrapping herself around the Spanish vamp. She swallowed hard and continued. "A dark-haired pretty boy with a heavy Spanish accent. Not Mexican, but Castilian. He ... he knew who I was, knew I was working for you."

"Che Leandro," Raphael murmured. "Why was he there?"

"As far as I could tell, his only purpose was to lie on the bed and look attractive. And to lob nasty hints at me about my imminent and distinctly unpleasant death. He seemed to think I should be honored his Sire intended to do the dirty deed himself."

"His Sire," Raphael said sharply. "He said that specifically?"

Cyn thought back. "Yes. He said his Sire wanted me for himself."

Raphael thrust to his feet, the stool clattering to the floor behind him. His hands clenched the tile counter top so hard that she thought for sure it would shatter beneath them. "Pushkin," he snarled.

Cyn drew back a little, startled. "Mrs. Judkins mentioned the name Pushkin. She thought someone left her husband a message with that name. I didn't think much about it at the time. I mean ... everybody knows Pushkin, right?"

His dark eyes swung to her face, his gaze shifting to her injured shoulder beneath the thick sweater she'd put on after her shower. "What else did you find out?" he snapped.

a.s.shole, she thought. "I traced Odessa Exports to a Santa Barbara holding company. They list their corporate offices on State Street, but if you want to find this Pushkin, I suggest you look in Montecito. That's where you'll find him, and..." She squinted up at the angry vampire glaring at her across the brightly tiled countertop. "That's probably where they're holding Alexandra too."

"How did you escape Albin?"

She blinked, startled by the near non sequitur. "I shot him," she said simply. "You guys tend to dismiss humans as harmless. Especially the old ones like Albin who grew up fighting wars without modern weapons. He never even searched me." She crossed her arms, hugging herself against the memory. "He was coming at me," she said, her voice soft. "So fast; you're all so fast. I barely got the gun out before he was on me, his teeth ripping into my shoulder. I thought I was dead, but I think he wanted to play first, wanted to hurt me, to hear me scream. I screamed all right. But while I was screaming, I shot the b.a.s.t.a.r.d with a nearly full load. I don't know if it killed him, but it put him down long enough for me to get the h.e.l.l out of there. And that's all I cared about at the time." She looked up and paled at the fury on Raphael's face. "So," she said lightly. "When are we going after these guys?"

"You're not," he said in a flat, hard voice.

"Think again, my lord," she said flatly. "This is my case and I intend to see it through. It may have escaped your notice, but I've got a few grudges against these guys myself."

"It will be far too dangerous. We won't be facing clumsy humans this time. If this is Pushkin's nest, he will be expecting us, expecting me."

"Yeah, well, news flash, bud. This clumsy human's coming to the party. And I don't need your f.u.c.king permission. You can take me with you or follow me there, but I'm coming along."

He glowered down at her, using his greater height and considerable size to intimidate her. Or at least he tried. Cyn refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else.

"Fine," he snarled, spinning around and striding over to the stairs leading down to the garage. "Tomorrow night. I suggest you bring a few stakes along."

"Don't you worry about me," she called after him, hurrying over to look down the stairwell. "I've got my own weapons."

Raphael paused before he reached the door, his broad shoulders hunching briefly as he looked up at her. "Cyn..."

She met his eyes and for a moment thought perhaps ... but, no. His expression hardened, his eyes going flat and blank once again.

"Be at the gate by eight o'clock," he snapped. "I won't wait for you."

And he was gone using that preternatural speed that was little more than a blur of motion to her human perceptions. "Coward," she whispered, sinking back down to the bar stool. "You f.u.c.king coward."

Chapter Forty-two.

Cyn woke before noon, aching all over and feeling like she hadn't slept at all. She told herself it was leftover stiffness from Albin's attack, from her narrow escape. It couldn't be the result of a sleepless night spent dreaming of dark eyes and a sensuous mouth, or the ache of loss in her heart, or even the ache of desire between her legs. It didn't seem fair that the b.a.s.t.a.r.d could walk out of her life and still haunt her dreams. She rolled out of bed, determined to put Raphael and his heat-filled gaze out of her mind, out of her heart. At least until tonight. Which reminded her.

She called the vampire lord's estate and asked to speak to Dr. Saephan. Chances were, he kept night hours pretty much like she did, but he would have to wake up early today. Why should she be the only one suffering?

"Saephan," a sleepy voice answered.

"It's Cynthia Leighton."

"Cynthia." She could almost hear him trying to think. "You're not having any problems, are you?" he asked with quick concern. "You seemed-"

"No, no," she a.s.sured him. "I called to apologize for the other day. For, you know, shutting you out."

"Oh. Well, thanks. That's good of you ... I guess. You could just have asked me to leave, you know."

"Yeah. I'm afraid living alone has taken a toll on my social skills."

"Mmmmm."

"So, is your partner going out on the big hunt tonight?"

"Oh G.o.d, yes," he groaned. "That's all anyone's talking about. They're like a bunch of kids before Christmas around here. Bloodsucking, lethal kids, but ... you get the idea."

"Yeah." She forced a chuckle. "They'll hit the road as soon as it's dark enough, huh?"

"Fortunately, yes, otherwise, they'd drive the rest of us completely insane. I think ... Cynthia, are you pumping me for information?"

"Maybe a little," she admitted. "Raphael said I could go along, but he seems to have mistaken the departure time by a few hours. Odd, isn't it?" She heard a deep sigh on the other end of the line.

"Maybe he didn't want you getting hurt again," he said softly.

"And maybe I don't need some hulking vampire deciding my life for me."

"What are you going to do?" He sounded worried.

"Don't worry, Doc. I'm very fond of my life, all evidence to the contrary. But I won't be shut out of this. I've earned the right to see it finished." She listened to the silence on the other end of the line.

"Maybe so," he said finally. "But ... I've seen these guys in action. You don't want to get in the middle of that, believe me."

"I do. Believe you, I mean. So, don't worry, I'll be careful. Listen, I've got to get going. Daylight's burning, as they say. Thanks a lot, Doc, and I am sorry for the other day."

"Sure you are. Take care."

"You too." As she hung up, she wondered if Saephan would mention their conversation to his partner, or even to Raphael. Not that it mattered. By the time the vamps rolled out of their beds tonight, she'd be long gone.

Chapter Forty-three.

Pushkin's compound couldn't compare to Raphael's expansive estate. It was one of two properties at the end of a twisty, narrow street in the hills above Santa Barbara. The first was a sprawling hacienda-style residence with sandy beige walls and a red-tiled roof. It was surrounded by an eight foot masonry wall and had a single wide entrance gate. A lone, bored-looking human guard stood just inside a flimsy booth, seeming more interested in what Judge Judy had to say on the small television screen than on anything Cyn might be doing. Not that he would have noticed anyway. She was a hundred yards distant, at the edge of a property slightly higher than the vampire's, with a perfect view of the entire compound.

Other than the guard, there wasn't any movement in or near the house. Heavy drapes covered all the windows she could see, but Pushkin seemed to lack either the resources or the desire to maintain a substantial human guard presence for daytime. She considered this, thinking it was unlikely the Santa Barbara vamp had the kind of underground facilities that the Malibu estate did. This house was old, not something he'd had built for his own use, and the houses around here didn't have bas.e.m.e.nts. Pushkin himself probably had some sort of windowless, inner sanctum where he slept out his daytime hours. But it looked as if some of his vamp followers spent their days dead to the world with nothing but a piece of heavy cloth between them and instant immolation. Cyn imagined Albin's white skin burning to a crispy black beneath sun's heat and smiled grimly.

Movement below drew her eye. She raised a pair of high-powered binoculars and watched as a lone, middle-aged woman hurried out of the main house, drawing on a sweater against the cool air. It had rained during the night; the ground was still wet and the air carried a distinct damp chill. The woman exchanged words with the gate guard, friendly words it seemed, since they both smiled and Cyn could hear the man's bark of laughter as he opened the gate enough for the woman to pa.s.s through.

Once outside, she turned left, walking with a purpose, not like someone out for a stroll. Pushkin's residential lot was big enough that it was a brisk ten minute walk before she came to the other property, which was around a curve and wedged deep into the dead-end. A thick stand of eucalyptus, wild oleander and scrub brush covered the s.p.a.ce between the two houses and took her out of the guard's sight long before she reached the second estate. It was a faded white house in the same adobe style, but it appeared almost abandoned, with trees and vines overgrowing the yard and creeping over the pale wall. From Cyn's vantage, she could barely see the ground floor. From the street, a pa.s.serby would see nothing at all.

The woman entered a code on the remote keypad, letting herself in through a narrow pedestrian door set into the solid metal gate. She disappeared beneath the trees for a few minutes, then reemerged almost to the main house, where she pulled a key from her pocket, went up the few steps and inside.

Cyn frowned. Could it be that simple? Was Pushkin that clever or his enemies that easily fooled? She didn't want to think so. But it certainly seemed that Raphael's enemy was hiding in plain sight, leaving the well-maintained and obviously, if inefficiently, guarded house as nothing more than a fake while he and his vampires rested in the relative obscurity of this broken-down neighbor. But if that was so, she'd expect at least some guard presence. He might be confident in his ruse, but surely not that confident.