Raphael forced himself to listen politely, to nod in agreement and present a confident face. Until he knew more, he would give no sign of distress, show no vulnerability. Weakness was unacceptable in this company, for between them, Raphael and his fellow vampire lords controlled a continent and beyond. All of the United States, Canada, Mexico—no vampire existed within those bounds, but that they owed fealty to one of these eight lords.
And yet as powerful as each of them was, none was so powerful as Raphael himself. Some were older, but age was not everything. Some claimed greater skill, but skill was no substitute for strength. These things were never spoken of; they were simply understood. Boundaries were observed, respect was paid. Anything else would lead to war. And none of the men in this room wanted another war. But someone did. Someone thought to use Alexandra against him. And that someone would pay dearly.
* * * *
Raphael emerged from the conference room, going directly to the elevators, his people forming a cordon of security around him. They were uneasy, tense. He could feel their skin shivering with nerves, could hear their hearts beating rapidly, their blood pulsing with excitement. Likely they already knew more than he did. But not for long.
The heavy door of the bulletproof limousine closed behind him with a muffled thud. He waited until the vehicle and its escorts had pulled out into traffic, then glanced at Duncan.
"Moments before dawn this morning, my lord. They must have timed it to the shift change, to limit the number of us they had to deal with. The human guards were already on station for the day, the vampires had gone to the barracks beneath the estate. They knew nothing until they woke this evening."
"And our human guards?"
"Dead, Sire."
"Surveillance?"
"Yes, my lord. Waiting for you in Los Angeles. Gregoire has briefed me—"
"I want the estate locked down. No one comes or goes until I get there."
"Already done, my lord."
"Her bodyguards?"
"One destroyed ... Matias. We cannot be certain of—"
"Albin, then?"
Duncan sighed. “It would appear so, Sire."
Raphael's jaw tightened. “You warned me against him, Duncan."
"Sire—"
"No. You were right. I wanted to trust him."
"You couldn't—"
"I should have, Duncan. I allowed old ties of friendship to blind me to the truth. I am as big a fool as that babbling old man in there tonight.” He was silent for a time, staring sightlessly at the city passing beyond the darkened windows. “He is mine."
"My lord?"
"No one touches Albin, Duncan. He is mine."
"Of course. My lord, we will get her back."
A dangerous smile crossed Raphael's face, his gaze meeting Duncan's, his fangs extending in a slow, predatory glide. “We will, Duncan. Never doubt it. And then they will pay. No one takes what is mine and lives."
Chapter Three
Malibu, California
They arrived at his estate overlooking the Pacific Ocean in the deepest dark of morning; already he could feel the sun lurking just below the horizon. There were some, Raphael knew, who trusted human servants enough to lock themselves away in a closed compartment and fly through the sunshine, at the mercy of any who meant them harm. Raphael had not lived so long by trusting. Every member of his immediate entourage, every one of his bodyguards, his chauffeur, his pilot, even his housekeeper, was a vampire of his own making. Every one of them owed his or her eternal life to Raphael and was incapable of betraying him as long as his powers remained potent. He was the undisputed master of his territories and his children were absolutely and completely loyal to him. Or they were dead. There could be no other choice.
As his limo rolled through the gates of his estate, the vampires on guard stood at stiff attention. Raphael permitted himself a small smile. It was good they feared him, but he would not destroy a loyal soldier for deeds not his own. No, it was Albin who would pay for this treachery. Albin. They had a history, the two of them, a history going back almost to Raphael's turning.
They had been children of the same mistress, cut adrift when she fell victim to her lover's jealous wife, her heart pierced as she slept through the day. It had been a foolish death and yet not entirely unpredictable. She'd been careless, wanton and wasteful, not only of her own powers, but of those of her offspring. Many of her vampiric children had died along with her, sucked into her death throes, unable to bear the shock. The stronger ones survived; some only to fall prey to the very carelessness learned at her feet.