Raphael (Vampires in America #1)

Raphael (Vampires in America #1) Page 33

Rage drew his lips back in a snarl of fury, but he forced himself to calm, to gather her in his arms and lend her the slight warmth of his body. He bent to the worst of her wounds, the ravaged muscles of her neck and shoulder, the skin stripped away, the blood flow weakening as the strength of her heart failed. Her taste on his tongue was overwhelming. He swallowed a groan of pleasure, fighting against instinct, knowing if he yielded now, he would lose her forever. He continued to lick the wound, the clotting factors in his saliva working to stop the bleeding, the euphoric chemicals of his enhanced system easing her pain, lulling her into passiveness. She moaned softly, a sob of loss rather than pain.

His strong fingers brushed the hair away from her battered face, stroking it carefully from her bloodied forehead, tucking it gently behind one ear. Her breath was a bare touch against his mouth as he lowered his face to hers, whispering against her lips.

"Kiss me, Cyn."

She sighed softly, opening her warm mouth. He bit his lower lip, letting the blood flow, then covered her mouth with his, twining his tongue around hers and feeling her begin to suck gently. His fingers massaged her throat carefully, forcing her to swallow. She cried out, no longer lost, but hungry and wanting. He couldn't help himself; he clutched her to his chest, turning the kiss from gentle healing to heated passion. Cyn responded in kind as his blood warmed her skin, as her body healed enough to feel the ecstasy of his kiss, and her mouth began to demand more.

She shuddered softly into orgasm, and her arms fell away to trail down his chest, her body going soft beneath his. “Raphael,” she whispered.

Raphael felt her lips curve with pleasure beneath his. “Sleep, sweet Cyn."

In the open doorway, Duncan stood as his master carried Cynthia past, helpless to do anything but watch. Raphael paused before the final set of stairs. “She will live,” he said, his voice tight with simmering rage. “Twice they have touched what is mine, Duncan. I will know what happened here. And then we will hunt."

The vampires listening outside howled their approval, and Raphael returned a fearsome smile.

Chapter Thirty-seven

Raphael lay Cyn carefully on the bed, then stood and stripped off his suit coat and tie, loosening the collar of his shirt. As an afterthought, he stepped out of his boots and socks, padding barefoot to the big bed. He smiled as he tugged off her elaborate cowboy boots and tossed them aside. The smile was replaced by a snarl of fury as he removed the rest of her clothing—the heavy, leather jacket improbably shredded, unless one was familiar with the thick, sharp claws that could inflict that kind of damage on even the toughest fabric. He puzzled over her dress, finally realizing that the slinky knit was designed to pull over her head like a sweater. Instead, he tore the fabric open, rolling it off her shoulders and down her torso, sliding over her hips, revealing every inch of her taut, sleek body, her full, heavy breasts.

"Ah, sweet Cyn,” he whispered hoarsely when he saw the silky skin of her mound, waxed bare and smooth. His cock ached with wanting her, and he slid the dress over her feet quickly, pulling up the comforter and covering her nakedness. He was not an animal to take advantage of a helpless woman, not even one that drove him to such heights of desire.

Stretching out next to her, he gathered her gently into his arms, keeping the bulky comforter between them, allowing himself a single hand beneath the cover, splayed against the satiny warmth of her hip. She murmured softly in her sleep, sounds of contentment, of safety. He began kissing her face, wincing at the bruises and licking the small cuts, freeing the bits of glass that still clung to the wounds. His thick fingers were remarkably delicate as he picked out the small slivers, wondering at how they came to be there. His mouth continued its exploration, tugging the comforter down enough to expose the ugly wound on her neck, rage filling him once again at the viciousness of the attack.

"Who did this to you, my Cyn?” he murmured softly, not expecting an answer. There would be time enough for answers after she was healed. And then there would be revenge.

When he'd cleaned her as best he could, he lifted his own wrist to his mouth and sliced it open. Lowering the bloody arm to her mouth, he whispered directly into her ear. “Drink, lubimaya."

She protested fretfully, until he smeared blood over her lips. Then her tongue came out automatically to lick it off and she hummed with pleasure, seeking more until her mouth latched onto his wrist and she began suckling like a newborn babe. Every pull of her mouth sent ripples of desire through his groin, as if she were sucking his engorged cock rather than his wrist. He closed his eyes against the sensation.

"Will I become Vampire?"

His eyes opened at the sound of her damaged voice, her pain-clouded eyes staring up at him. “No,” he said gently. “It is not so simple a thing, nor one I would undertake without permission."

"Then, why?” Her words were slurred; she was already half asleep, groggy from the effects of ingesting his blood.

"It will help you heal."

"Mmmm,” she murmured, giving his wrist a final lick before turning her face into his chest and curling into a natural sleep.

He gazed down at her, nearly undone by the trust she gave him. “Would it be so terrible, sweet Cyn?” he whispered. “To spend eternity at my side?” But she was too far gone in sleep, and Raphael didn't know if he wanted to hear her answer anyway.

Chapter Thirty-eight

"Raphael.” Cyn's dream-soaked whisper woke him from his own thoughts, reminding him of the passing time. With a final, reluctant caress, he pulled away from her, tugging the comforter up to her chin and tucking her beneath its warmth.

He bent to kiss Cyn good-bye, a quick brush of lips on her forehead that became a sensuous exploration of her skin, her warm mouth. She purred hungrily in her sleep, full of desire for him. He stood, gazing at her with regret before forcing himself to leave.

Downstairs in the garage, human guards had joined his vampires, and along with them a human doctor who was a trusted member of his staff.

"I sent for Dr. Saephan,” Duncan murmured at his side. “The guards will remain outside, but I thought perhaps..."

Raphael tensed, fighting the urge to keep her to himself, to let no one touch her but him. But the sun would rise. And he could not be there for her then. He closed his eyes, feeling the first blush of heat against his skin. “Yes. Thank you, Duncan."

"She will be protected, my lord."

"She will be avenged,” he said fiercely. Then, he gathered his vampires to him and disappeared into the fading darkness.

Chapter Thirty-nine

Cynthia woke to a sharp pain in her arm, then a burning as a needle withdrew. Her eyes opened and she rolled from the bed, grabbing the Glock from her bedside drawer as she moved, crouching next to the table, the gun tracking ... a nice-looking guy in a white coat? She scanned the room. She was where she expected to be, in her own condo, her own bed. Looking down, she saw a faint trickle of blood and some bruising around her inner left arm. She looked up at the man's startled face.

He held up an empty blood bag in one hand, plastic tubing trailing over to the needle in his other. “Blood transfusion,” he explained. “You lost a lot of blood."

"Who are you?” Her voice came out grittier than she expected and she coughed self-consciously.

"Dr. Peter Saephan, at your service,” he said with a pleasant smile. “It's a matter of quantity for us humans, not just quality.” He gestured with the blood bag.

"You work for Raphael?” She relaxed marginally, realized she was naked and grabbed the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around her body.

"I have that honor,” Saephan acknowledged. “Are you hungry?"

"Starved, but...” Cyn sniffed herself, wrinkling her face in distaste. “I need a shower."

"Ah, you must be feeling better then. Good. Show me where you keep your sheets, and I'll change this bed while you freshen up."

"Naked here,” she said in exasperation.

"Oh, please, I'm a doctor. Besides—"

"Yeah, well you're not my doctor.” She waved her hand, ordering him out of the room and making a dash for the bathroom when he complied. “The sheets are in the hall closet!” she shouted, before closing the door.

The water ran red with blood before she finished her shower, and no amount of scrubbing could erase the memories of Albin's teeth on her neck. But her body was clean, her hair was—thank God—shampooed, and she only had to grab the wall once to stay on her feet under the hot spray. When she finally emerged, scalded nearly pink, she felt a thousand times better. Finding the bedroom empty, and the bed neatly made, she made her way slowly to the closet and drew on fresh underwear, then a comfortable silk robe. Her wounds were healing quickly, amazingly so, but the skin was still tender and she ached all over. After throwing style to the wind and stuffing her feet into a pair of comfortable Uggs, she followed her nose to the fresh coffee brewing somewhere downstairs.

She found both the coffee and Dr. Saephan in her kitchen. “Well, you do look better,” he commented with a smile. “Still hungry?"

"Ravenous, but I warn you there's not much in the way of food...” Her voice trailed off as Saephan set a plate in front of her—eggs, scrambled with cheddar and red peppers, crisp bacon and buttered toast. She looked up in surprise. “I know you didn't get this food from my refrigerator,” she commented, digging in.

"Hmm, no. You're right about that. I sent one of the guards to the store."

Cyn was too busy shoveling food into her mouth to respond.

Saephan poured a cup of hot coffee and put it in front of her. “Caffeine is good for what ails you, too."

"Caffeine is always good, Doc,” she said around a mouthful. She swallowed and took a long, bracing sip. “Thanks for the bed change, by the way. And for everything else. I don't remember very much.” She shuddered involuntarily. “You said you work for Raphael?"

"For nearly twenty years. And I've changed more than a few bloody beds in that time."