"No, it will not succeed,” he agreed in a hard voice. “My enemy has overplayed his hand and I will know his name before the new moon."
"My lord,” Duncan ventured. “At the beach house...” Raphael gave him a slow, threatening stare. Duncan swallowed, the obvious ache in his throat a reminder of his too recent punishment. “Do you want Lonnie—"
"No. I will select my own."
"May we at least go in the private entrance, my lord?” Duncan pleaded.
"Of course, Duncan. I am not unreasonable."
"No, my lord,” his lieutenant whispered. He pressed the intercom and instructed the driver.
* * * *
The beach house was located in the very center of Malibu, two stories and six thousand square feet of opulence with an entire wall of glass facing eighty feet of prime ocean frontage. It had a private wine cellar fully stocked with the vampires’ rather unique beverage of choice and a huge gourmet kitchen used primarily to feed the very willing donors who crowded the house four nights a week. The house was dark Monday through Wednesday, and on certain holidays, the latter being a small joke on Lonnie's part. The rest of the year was a constant round of parties. Beautiful people of every variety and sexual preference were invited, as well as those among the power elite who fancied a walk in the shadows. The purpose of the gatherings was never discussed, although everyone who made it through the front door knew exactly what transpired in the bedrooms and dark corners. There were no innocents at the beach house.
Raphael glided out of the limo without a word, stalking through his private entrance and into the house. The main room was a huge, wide open space, resembling nothing so much as an exclusive night club. Lighting was kept intentionally low to accommodate the vampires’ sensitive eyes and to camouflage not only the frequent comings and goings of vampire and human alike from the private rooms upstairs, but the less discreet encounters in the corners as well. Music blasted from speakers throughout the interior, throbbing in a constant drumbeat designed to enhance the feeling of danger and of promise. Raphael moved through the crowd smoothly, knowing he was a predator among his prey. He kept his face hidden by the constantly shifting shadows. Humans in his path groaned in mingled fear and lust as he passed, their bodies straining toward him, even as their eyes betrayed the abject terror yammering in their animal brains. He could see his vampires watching him, their master, covertly, glimpses in the darkness of pale faces filled with ecstasy, bathing in the wash of his power and soaking in the desire and fear of the human cattle all around them.
Raphael searched the crowd with a restless gaze, his body hard and ready, rage riding the surface of lust pounding in his veins, driving him to sink his teeth into the sweet warmth of a woman's blood and his c*ck into the wet heat between her legs. But the one he hungered for wasn't here. She was miles away, hiding behind her steel door and her fragile resistance. He growled in renewed frustration and grabbed a tall, dark-haired woman. She was as eager as the others, dressed to entice with high, high heels stretching long, slender legs up to a firm ass sheathed in a short, tight skirt. Her ragged hair brushed bare shoulders and he leaned over, drawing in her scent. A snarl of impatient fury rumbled in his chest as he pulled her down the hallway and into a ground floor bedroom reserved for his use only. He barely managed to close the door before he sank his fangs into her soft neck, his c*ck growing harder with every draw of succulent blood.
The woman moaned wantonly, pressing herself against his erection, clasping her arms around his back to rub her br**sts against his chest. Raphael ignored her pleading until he'd drunk his fill, until the blood ran from his mouth and he could swallow no more. She gave a small cry of protest when he released her, holding on to him, crying now, begging him. He threw her to the bed face-first, pulling her h*ps up to meet his groin, pushing the tight skirt up over her buttocks and ripping away the flimsy bit of lace covering her. Freeing his throbbing cock, he thrust it against her, seeking entrance. She arched her back, spreading her legs wider in invitation, panting with desire.
He froze, staring down at the whorish display, disgusted with her, with himself. His mind conjured the image of Cyn, her green eyes filled with mingled fear and longing, her full br**sts swelling with every breath, hard ni**les begging to be touched, her heart pounding so loud it was everything he could do not to grasp it in his hand. The woman on the bed began to sob openly, thrusting herself at him, begging him to f**k her. Raphael backed away, realizing suddenly why he'd chosen this particular woman. She was a poor imitation of his Cyn, but Cyn would never have debased herself like this. He thought to warn the woman, to chasten her to have more respect for herself, but he knew from experience that his warning would go unheeded. And besides, who was he to chasten another after his own disgusting display of lust?
His erection faded. The blood that, only moments before, had tasted so sweet now sat on his tongue like vinegar. He zipped himself up, wiped his mouth, and spat to one side before striding from the room without a single glance back.
Duncan was waiting in the hallway, Juro nearby; Juro's brother would be outside with the car. Lonnie was speaking to Duncan in a low voice when Raphael emerged, the embodiment of wrath bearing down on them. “Handle that,” he growled to Lonnie and was gone, out the door and into the waiting limo.
Duncan followed him into the car wordlessly, opening a compartment behind the driver's seat and handing him a warm, wet washcloth. Raphael accepted it with a grunt of thanks, wiping his mouth and hands with some care before handing the now bloody cloth back to his lieutenant.
"Are they waiting?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Good.” There was more than one way to work off his lust, he thought grimly.
Chapter Eighteen
Raphael and Duncan went directly to the underground level, entering from the courtyard and pacing the long, dimly lit corridors until they reached the detention area, well within. Every vampire they met dropped immediately to one knee, eyes cast downward, sensing their master's seething temper. Raphael barely glanced at them, his body still thrumming with unslaked lust, his mind focused solely on getting the information he wanted from the witless humans awaiting his pleasure.
Duncan opened an unmarked door, entering first and then standing aside as Raphael strode past and over to the observation window dividing this room from the one next door. Two humans waited beyond. They were unbound, still clothed in the black uniform shirt and pants of his daytime guard, although their jackets had been taken. Neither had been bloodied yet, and they lounged in seeming nonchalance, one sitting at the table drumming his fingers restlessly, the other tipped back against the wall, his eyes closed as if resting.
"Do you know them?” Raphael asked.
"Peripherally. As well as I know any of the human guards. The one on the right, leaning against the wall, has been with you since you bought this estate. He has an excellent record and was actually being considered for promotion. The other, at the table, was hired six months ago on the recommendation of his friend there."
"Six months, then."
"Most likely."
"And not a whisper. Have they been questioned?'
"Not yet, my lord. We awaited your instruction."
Raphael nodded. “I promised Cyn she could participate in the interrogation,” he said, with a sidelong glance.
Duncan controlled his look of surprise, mindful of his master's uncertain temper. When he spoke, he chose his words with visible care. “Ms. Leighton may not understand what must be done, my lord."
Raphael stared at the prisoners pensively. “Perhaps it's time she learns, Duncan.” His private thoughts raged at the human female and his own timidity in dealing with her. Why did he care if she accepted him? Why not simply take her as was his right?