"Please,” she whispered. “Oh God, Raphael, please."
Desire overwhelmed him. He lifted himself from between her legs and drove his cock 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 lust 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 balls 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 orgasm, muffling 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 cock 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 lust 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 passion for this one. He felt his cock 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 shell 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 assuming 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.
Asshole, 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 bastard 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 hell 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 bastard 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 assured him. “I called to apologize for the other day. For, you know, shutting you out."