Chapter Seven
Jabril fisted the blond slave's hair, yanking her head back and stretching her throat taut, until the thick outline of her jugular could be seen beneath the delicate skin. He lowered his head and sniffed, enjoying the sweet scent of her blood and the even sweeter stench of her terror. He waited, savoring the moment as the dark-haired slave with her mouth on his c*ck brought him to the edge of cl**ax, then sank his teeth into the blond's neck. Her scream of pain made him hard once again, and he drank deeply until she was limp beneath him. He let her fall to the pillows to shudder convulsively in the throes of an orgasm triggered by the euphorics in his saliva. Sometimes he didn't bother to make the feeding pleasurable for the slaves, but sometimes he did. The possibility made them so much more anxious to please.
He lay back on the bed, reveling in the rush of fresh blood through his system, letting the dark-haired slave finish her eager oral ministrations. The door opened and he looked up to see Asim enter the room, his nostrils flaring with hunger at the scent of so much blood. He walked to the foot of the bed and stopped, his narrow eyes taking in the sight of his master and the well-used slaves.
"Ms. Leighton has returned to her hotel,” he said.
"Excellent. What did you think of her, Asim?” Jabril ran his hand along the blond's na**d hip, watching his aide's eyes tighten in hunger as the woman rubbed herself against Jabril with a needy moan.
Asim brought his gaze back to the vampire lord with a guilty jerk. “Prideful, mannish. Typical American female."
"But beautiful all the same."
Asim shrugged with studied nonchalance. “Her blood will taste like any other's."
"Perhaps not,” Jabril disagreed. “Raphael has marked her, you know."
"I did not—"
"No, of course you didn't. It was too subtle and old; they've been parted for some weeks, I would imagine. Arrogant of Raphael, to claim such a one and then leave her lying about. He may find it somewhat difficult to claim her again."
Asim's gaze grew vaguely alarmed. “Did you—"
"A small touch. Because she's Raphael's and even that will infuriate him.” He paused and gave his aide a sidelong look. “Have you eaten yet?"
"No, Master."
Jabril feigned surprise. “Well, then. This one's untapped tonight.” He pushed the dark-haired slave away from his now flaccid cock, ignoring her small sounds of protest. Asim's face tightened in poorly concealed resentment, but he gave Jabril a little bow from the waist before grabbing the girl's arm and dragging her out of the room. Jabril smiled slightly and looked down at the blond, running an absent hand over her smooth skin while he thought about Cynthia Leighton. He suspected Asim was wrong about that one. Ms. Leighton's blood would be sweet indeed.
Chapter Eight
She stood on a balcony, a sliver of moon the only light visible on the black sweep of velvet sky. On the beach below, the ocean moved restlessly, unseen in the darkness. Strong arms came around her, pulling her against a solid, thick chest, enveloping her in a hard embrace. She leaned back, closing her eyes in the sweet relief of his presence, the comfort of his arms. His lips brushed her hair and lingered to whisper in her ear.
"Where are you, my Cyn? Where did you go?"
"I'm here. With you."
"No. Say my name, sweet Cyn."
"Raphael,” she whispered.
"So far away, lubimaya. Where are you?"
She frowned at his insistent questioning. What kind of a dream was this anyway? “Texas,” she said, puzzled. “Is that what you want? I'm in Houston, Texas."
His arms tightened around her like steel bands and his breath ran out in a hiss of sound. “Why? Why Texas?"
"A job,” she snapped, irritated now. She tried to push away his arms, but he held her fast.
"What job, Cyn? Who?"
"What do you mean ‘who?’ It's none of your business, but it's Jabril Karim. What does it matter?” She took advantage of the moment to push away from him. “What is this? If you must haunt my dreams, I like the sex ones a lot better."
His arms tugged her back again, his soft, sensuous laughter brushing along the entire length of her body. “Ah. Do you miss me, then, my Cyn?"
That was too cruel. She wasn't enjoying this dream at all anymore. It only made her sad. “Let me go,” she whispered. “Just let me go."
The pillow was damp when the phone's wake-up call jerked her out of sleep, but she convinced herself it was no more than the sweat from a restless night in a strange hotel. She had no more tears to cry for Raphael, no matter how many times he haunted her dreams. She ran her hands back through her hair, checking the time with a glance. It was a little before eight in the morning. A perfectly God-forsaken time to be awake, but she hoped to see Ramona Hewitt this morning at Child Protective Services. She had left a message the night before, but didn't plan on waiting for a call back that might never come. Instead, she would drop by and hope to speak with the woman for a few minutes. What she needed wouldn't take any longer than that.