Unforgiven (A Cyn and Raphael Novella Book 3) (10 page)

Chapter Seven

SILENCE DESCENDED as Raphael and his flunkies departed to the sound of roaring engines and spinning dirt. Alexandra cast a distasteful look around the musty church, her gaze falling at last on the dark-haired female who was apparently going to be her new mistress. Or perhaps the trail of power should go the other way. After all, Alexandra was older, and she had Raphael’s connections to offer. He was angry now, but he wouldn’t abandon her completely. If she reached out, he would be there for her, just as he had been since the day she was born.

“Well,” she said, becoming impatient with Violet’s inaction. The female seemed to be still in shock after Raphael’s display of power. “It’s a bit damp in here, perhaps—” Her voice trailed away as Violet finally stirred, turning slowly to regard Alexandra.

“Given a choice, I’d kill you right here,” Violet said, her voice low and scratchy with exhaustion. “But I have a master, too, and he’ll want to meet you if nothing else. Do you know how to drive?”

Alexandra shook her head. “Raphael always—”

“I really don’t want to hear about the marvels of Raphael anymore. Come, my car is nearby, and lucky for us both, I do know how to drive.”

Mexico City—two days later

ALEXANDRA FOLLOWED Violet into the elegant drawing room, the tiled floor cool beneath the thin soles of the designer flats she’d been wearing when Pascal had spirited her away from Raphael’s prison. That was only a few days ago, less than a week, but it felt like so much longer. The last two days had been a hellish journey, with Violet driving all night, and the two of them holing up during the days in whatever cheap motel they could find on short notice. If there was anything good to be said at all, it was only that they were fortunate it was still late winter, that the nights were still long enough that it had taken them only two nights, instead of three, to reach their destination. Which was apparently this lovely and rather expansive hacienda outside Mexico City. Alexandra knew that Mexico was Enrique’s territory, that Mexico City was his headquarters. But that wasn’t Enrique sitting in the big chair, watching Alexandra and Violet approach like a man who expected them to kneel in his presence. Enrique was handsome enough, but he was a fussy man and favored a more formal appearance. She’d seen him several times over the years when it was Raphael’s turn to host the annual Council meeting, and Enrique was always dressed to perfection, most recently in a full three-piece suit and tie. He’d never have dressed as this vampire did, in black slacks and gleaming cowboy boots, his blond hair slicked back and his well-muscled figure evident beneath a cashmere sweater.

“Sire,” Violet said, doing just as Alexandra had predicted, sinking gracefully to her knees, head bent.

“You failed, Violet.”

“I beg your forgiveness, my lord. Raphael was stronger than we . . . than
I
expected. And the magician was useless. Raphael’s people only pretended to be swayed by his tricks.”

The good-looking vampire raised his eyes, taking in Alexandra where she stood several feet behind the kneeling Violet, his scrutiny shockingly intrusive as he scanned her from head to toe.

“This is all you’ve brought me?” he asked, dismissing Alexandra with a sneer and addressing Violet once more. “I have bedmates, Violet. I don’t need another.”

Alexandra blushed hotly, but for once remained silent. She was beginning to wish she’d remained in her cell under Raphael’s garage. At least it had been safe, which was not what she was feeling right now.

“This is Raphael’s sister, my lord,” Violet said eagerly. “It was she whom Raphael rushed down to Mexico to save. We were not successful, but she may still have some value.”

The master turned his dark gaze on Alexandra. “You’re Raphael’s sister? Born or turned?” he asked, when Alexandra nodded mutely.

“Born, my lord,” she responded. “We share the same mother and father. We were turned on the same night, although by different masters.”

The vampire pursed his lips, staring at her thoughtfully. “Why are you here?”

Alexandra frowned, not understanding the question. “My lord?”

“If your dear brother raced all this way to save you, why are you here with me instead of safe in his comforting embrace?”

She drew a breath, still not quite believing what had happened. “He gave me a choice. I could go back with him, or come to you. I chose to leave him.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Raphael is increasingly under the sway of his pet human. He is not the man he used to be.”

The vampire cocked his head, regarding her quizzically. “Is this true, Violet?” he asked, without taking his eyes off Alexandra.

“It was not my impression, my lord. We attacked the woman directly in the opening moments of our assault, intending to distract Raphael, to force him to defend her instead of himself.”

“And?” he said impatiently.

“And he didn’t so much as glance in her direction, much less try to defend her.”

“Is she dead?”

“Ah, no, my lord. She had a gun.”

“A gun. She killed one of my master vampires with a gun?” The words were disbelieving, his voice tight with anger.

“Yes, my lord,” Violet whispered.

The dark-haired vampire closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, though whether for strength or patience, Alexandra didn’t know. But when he opened his eyes, he was staring directly at her.

“What do you know of your brother’s dealings?”

Alexandra blinked in confusion. “My lord?”

“His business,” the vampire clarified sharply. “His finances. Private holdings, account numbers, passwords? When you wanted money, how did you get it?”

Alexandra frowned. “I didn’t handle any money. I had credit cards, and the last year—”

He didn’t let her finish. “What about the code to his private sanctuary, the place where he sleeps—do you know that?”

“No,” Alexandra said, shocked he would even ask. “No one but Raphael knows that. And his bitch, of course.”

“Then what good are you to me? You have no power, no knowledge . . . and you irritate my Violet.”

Alexandra jerked a glance at Violet who had turned her head and was glaring daggers in Alexandra’s direction.

But—” she protested, then gasped as an overwhelming pain seized her chest, as her lungs contracted and her muscles spasmed. She spun back toward the male vampire in disbelief and felt the crushing weight of his power, the burning hatred of his gaze.

With her dying breath, she formed a final plea. “Raphael.”

Malibu, California

THEY MET IN Raphael’s office once again. Jared was sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Raphael’s desk, Juro standing to one side, his arms crossed behind his back like a soldier standing at ease. Cyn was half sitting on Raphael’s desk, angled so as not to give Jared her back, but mostly facing Raphael and Juro.

“So, there’s no doubt,” Raphael was saying. “They drove to Mexico City.”

“And met with a master I’ve never seen before,” Juro confirmed. “But he’s making no secret of his presence. Enrique would have to be blind and dumb not to know about it.”

“Enrique was in on it, my lord,” Jared insisted. “He made a deal to secure his own territory, and to hell with the rest of us.”

Cyn didn’t say anything, but for once she agreed with Jared. Enrique had sold out to the enemy.

Raphael was silent a moment, his elegant hands steepled in front of him. He raised his black eyes to meet Cyn’s and leaned forward, as if about to say something. But then, he suddenly jerked upright, as if he’d been dealt a great blow. His eyes closed in obvious pain, and his head fell forward, his chin hitting his chest.

Cyn slid from the desk in alarm and crouched by his side. “Raphael?” she said, her hand cradling the back of his neck as she leaned close enough to rest her cheek against his. “What is it, baby? What happened?”

The searing heat of his tears wet her face and she felt her own eyes filling in sympathy, although for what she didn’t know. “Raphael? Talk to me,” she pleaded softly, confused when the other two vampires slipped out of the room. Juro closed the door, leaving her alone with Raphael.

Raphael looked up then, his eyes still leaking bloody tears as he met her gaze. “Alexandra is gone,” he whispered, and Cyn’s heart contracted in pain, not for herself, but for him.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered, wanting to take away the hurt, thinking privately that Alexandra didn’t deserve to be mourned like this, didn’t deserve one second of Raphael’s pain.

“How can I help?” she murmured. “What do you need?”

“This,” Raphael said, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her onto his lap. “Just this.”

And so Cyn held him as the night moved on, as he quietly grieved a loss that Cyn knew she would never understand.

Epilogue

IT WAS A WEEK before Raphael finally raised the subject of the unfinished business left over from Acuña. Cyn knew he was hurting and she blamed Alexandra for that. The selfish bitch hadn’t even managed to die without spreading her misery around. But after that single moment of shock in Raphael’s office—when his grief had been so strong that it had leaked over to Juro and Jared and they’d known before Raphael had spoken it aloud that Alexandra was dead—he’d kept his feelings carefully concealed. He had centuries of practice at that, at keeping his emotions hidden, but it didn’t work with her.

They were getting ready to go out for the evening, to attend some fundraiser or other that Raphael had to make an appearance at for political purposes. He might be master of the universe among vampires, but he had a lot of business interests in the human world and that meant schmoozing with politicians and corporate leaders who would be making and influencing the decisions that affected the bottom line of Raphael Enterprises. As for Cyn, she was an old hand at that sort of thing. She’d been showing up for command performances at her father’s and grandparents’ various functions for as long as she could remember. She’d put a stop to most of it once she’d gotten old enough to voice an opinion that anyone listened to, but somehow she didn’t mind doing it for Raphael.

Love made people do all sorts of things.

She stepped into a pair of beautiful satin and crystal Manolo Blahnik pumps. The heel wasn’t as high as she usually preferred, but the shoe was so pretty that she’d bought them anyway. And they added a little something to the little black dress that she’d dragged out for the occasion. This one happened to be sleeveless, but that was only by chance. She had at least ten LBDs hanging in the closet, all interchangeable. She didn’t even look before grabbing one to wear.

Reaching behind her back, she tried to finish zipping up then decided to make use of the gorgeous male in the next room.

She strolled out of the walk-in closet to find Raphael sitting in his big chair, looking devastating as always. Tonight was a semi-formal affair, cocktail dresses for the women, black tie for the men. And no one did black tie better than Raphael.

He looked up from the documents he was reading and gave her a smile.

“Zip me up?” she asked.

He stood at once, setting aside his papers and twirling a finger to indicate she should turn around.

Cyn took a step closer and presented her back as requested. She felt the warm glide of his big hand as he slipped it inside her dress and around to her belly where he pressed gently, tugging her back toward him as his lips came down on her bare shoulder.

“You look lovely, my Cyn.”

“So do you, my Raphael,” she murmured and blinked rapidly to keep the tears that welled in her eyes from ruining her makeup. This was the first time in days that he’d seemed himself.

He kissed her shoulder, then her neck. “What am I supposed to do here again?” he teased.

“Zip.”

“Ah, yes.” Giving her belly a final brushing caress, he removed his hand and zipped the dress up past her waist to the low neckline.

She looked over her shoulder. “Thanks, fang boy.”

He grinned then sobered abruptly. But it was only his usual seriousness, without the tinge of sadness that had shadowed his eyes for too many days.

“Did you identify a messenger for me, my Cyn? The one for Mexico?”

She nodded, relieved that he seemed to be getting back to business, but a little worried that the business involved Mexico. “Lana Arnold,” she told him. “She’s a bounty hunter, but does some P.I. work, too, mostly using her hunter skills, like finding people who have gone astray. She took on a couple of jobs for me recently and we worked well together. Her agency’s in Arizona, but she’s done a lot of work on the other side of the border.”

Raphael nodded then picked up the papers he’d been reading and handed them to her. “Take a look at these.”

Cyn took the proffered pages with a glance up at him but saw nothing in his face that told her what to expect. She bent her head and started reading. There were three letters. The first one was straightforward, a draft letter of instruction to his attorneys, Kimiko and Boyd Lorick, requesting that they deliver the other two documents to . . . and that part was left blank, presumably because he’d been waiting to learn the P.I.’s name from Cyn.