Her ravaged neck shrieked in pain as she shoved out of the truck. She gave the pain voice with a scream of her own, almost falling to the garage floor as a wave of blackness threatened to overtake her. No, no. Not this close. She would not be caught when she'd come so far. Gripping the truck door for balance, she climbed back to her feet and started toward the door to her condo, using the wall, the shelves, anything she touched for balance. Halfway there, she remembered she didn't have her card key. It was in her duffle, all the way back in the truck cargo space. Her eyes filled with angry tears.
No time. The vampires would be on her soon enough. Too soon. She stumbled to the cabinet on the back wall near the door and yanked it open, tossing aside the nearly empty boxes and useless tools that were stored there. They were window dressing, nothing more, camouflage for the keypad concealed in the dim corner, where no one would think to look. She closed her eyes, resting her throbbing head on the shelf, her hand stroking the keypad.
Almost there, Cyn. She entered the code, and the harsh buzz of the magnetic lock disengaging was the sweetest sound she'd ever heard.
She made a desperate lunge for the door, falling against it, sliding to the floor inside and shoving it closed even as the first massive fist sliced through the metal of her garage door.
How long ago had that been? She huddled on the stairs, listening to her breaths turn to gasps for air, feeling her heart thud in her chest, each beat a little weaker than the last. A sudden crash startled her, sucking away her last breath, sending her heart into a staccato of fear. But no vampire could enter. Not without an invitation. The darkness folded her in its arms. She was safe, in the dark, in the cool dark.
"Kiss me, Cyn,” a familiar honeyed voice murmured.
Chapter Thirty-six
Raphael followed her scent, the delicious enticement of her blood pounding against his senses, making his c*ck swell ruthlessly. She was little more than a blot of shadow on the dark stairs, no movement, no sound. But she lived. Raphael could hear the sluggish beat of her heart, the thin rush of her blood. He dropped to her side, his breath running out in a hiss when he saw what had been done to her. A vampire had done this. Someone had dared to mark what was his.
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 br**sts.
"Ah, sweet Cyn,” he whispered hoarsely when he saw the silky skin of her mound, waxed bare and smooth. His c*ck ached with wanting her, and he slid the dress over her feet quickly, pulling up the comforter and covering her na**dness. 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 c*ck 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