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

The vamp blew out an exasperated breath. “All right, all right,” he muttered, raising both hands in surrender. “How do I petition Lord Raphael, then?”

“You can ride with us,” Cyn offered on a whim. Most vampires went out of their way to avoid meeting Raphael, preferring to deal with intermediaries like Juro. But not this guy. He clearly had a hidden agenda, and she figured the best way to blow it into the open was to call his bluff. See what scuttled out. It wasn’t like he was any kind of a threat, not to Raphael anyway. And sure as hell not by the time he got through all of the screening Juro would subject him to first.

Elke and Juro obviously didn’t agree with her thinking, however, as both of them shot her deadly glares. “What?” she demanded. “He’s got to talk to Raphael and we’re going there.”

Elke only glared harder, but Juro studied her briefly and then let the bare curl of a knowing smile move his lips. Then, being a man of few words, he simply nodded once in assent.

“Thank you, my lady!” the newcomer enthused, then turned to face Luci, leaning sideways to see her behind Juro. “Miss Luci, your hospitality has been unparalleled,” he said and reached for her hand, stopping abruptly when Juro growled a wordless warning. The vamp settled instead for a short bow, then headed for the front door, giving Cyn a cheerful wink when Elke backed her out of the way.

The vamp exited first, with Cyn and Elke following. Cyn glanced back for Juro just in time to see him run a big hand down the length of Luci’s long hair then bend over and drop a soft kiss on her lips. Cyn smiled. These were two of her favorite people; how could she not enjoy seeing them together? She was still smiling when Juro joined them, his dark gaze narrowing at her in an unspoken warning. Cyn swallowed her laugh, her eyes going wide with the effort. Which only made Juro glare even harder.

“Elke—” he growled, without looking away from Cyn, “—you and Cynthia sit in back. Our visitor will ride up front with me.”

Elke nodded once then turned to Cyn. “You’re behind Juro,” she ordered. She was in full bodyguard mode, so Cyn obeyed without question, sliding across the seat. She was grateful for the size of the big SUV, because Juro had the seat pushed all the way back to accommodate his considerable length. And at six feet tall herself, Cyn needed the leg room too.

Elke climbed into the back seat next to her, pulling the door closed as Cyn fastened her seatbelt securely. She was the only one to do so. She’d never seen a vampire who bothered with it.

The trip back to Malibu was thankfully short. Juro wove in and out of traffic like an Indy race car driver and didn’t say a word. Their visitor, on the other hand, never shut up. He kept up a continuous stream of chatter, half of it meaningless observations about Malibu, its houses, the ocean, and the other half sly digs at Juro, as if he
wanted
the big vampire to snap and attack him.

Cyn watched all of this curiously, taking in not only what the vamp was saying, but what he wasn’t. For a guy who claimed to be seeking a new home in Raphael’s territory, he didn’t ask a single question about life under Raphael’s rule, or even about Raphael himself. He also didn’t show the slightest nervousness about going before Raphael to petition for residence in the West, even though earlier he’d claimed to be afraid Raphael would execute him before he could plead his case.

Cyn was also getting a creeping sense that, despite every word he spoke being aimed at Juro,
she
was the true target. It was almost as if his words were a cover for what he was really doing: that while he chattered away, he was working some other magic aimed at Cyn. Maybe it was because she was the only human, because he’d tried something on Juro earlier and had been shut down. Or maybe he was specifically targeting her for some reason. But whatever his game was, it was constant and unrelenting. Her fingers itched with the urge to grab her weapon and shoot the asshole just to stop whatever the hell he was doing. It was only the certain knowledge that Raphael would want to talk to him that stopped her. But frankly, Raphael or not, if this fucker didn’t shut up soon, she was going to shoot him anyway.

PASCAL SAT IN the front seat of the giant SUV, his mouth spewing a free flow of inane chatter while his brain worked on the problem at hand. Fucking Juro. That had been unexpected. Pascal had been thorough in his research for this assignment, reading everything he could find on the vampires who constituted Raphael’s inner circle. There wasn’t that much out there because first, Raphael’s vamps were loyal to a fault and refused to gossip about him. But also because, for the most part, the vamps closest to Raphael had all been sired by him and had remained at his side from the moment of their rebirth. Raphael’s lieutenant, Jared, was the only exception. Although he, too, had been sired by Raphael, he’d become Raphael’s man on the scene, traveling all over the West, wherever he was needed. And because of that, Pascal had been able to learn a little bit more about Jared. But Juro . . . Juro had been at Raphael’s side since he’d been turned, and no one was even sure when that was. He was one seriously badass motherfucker, almost as famous as Raphael, and known for his unflinching loyalty, as well as his power and skill as a warrior. He was also the very last vampire Pascal would have chosen to tangle with.

Fortunately, the big guy seemed to be underestimating Pascal’s threat potential. It was the lone benefit of having been turned at such a young age. In his early days as a vampire, during the flower child era of the 1960s, Pascal had lived among the legions of lost youth in the big cities, finding his victims among his fellow street dwellers. But once he’d come into his full vampiric power, there’d been no more need to dwell in poverty.

Pascal wasn’t strong in the way things were measured in vampire society. If he ever went head to head with a vampire like Juro, he’d be crushed like a bug. But he had one unique and powerful talent, so powerful that he’d earned a nickname among the vamps he ran with. They called him
The Mesmer
because that’s what he did. He mesmerized others into doing whatever he wanted. The common term was hypnosis, but what he did was far more complicated than that. He reached right into their brains and persuaded them that what
he
wanted was
their
greatest desire. It worked on vampires as well as humans, especially if the vampire was unaware of what he could do and was therefore unprepared to defend against it. As for humans . . . well they were such simple creatures, it was child’s play to
persuade
them to do whatever he wanted.

And that was why it vexed him that the Leighton woman was proving so resistant to his manipulation. She’d been his target all along. Within a day of his arrival on the streets of L.A., he’d heard about Lucia Shinn’s house of losers, but he hadn’t paid much attention until the word
vampire
was mentioned. He’d slipped in among a group of teens dropping by the runaway house and done a little snooping of his own. It hadn’t required any of his talent to discover Cynthia Leighton’s connection to the shelter, and only a smidge to persuade Lucia Shinn to call her good friend about the new, possibly dangerous teen hanging out on her couch.

And Leighton had shown up right on cue, with goddamn Juro in tow. How was Pascal supposed to have known that the Shinn bitch was fucking Raphael’s security chief? The minute Pascal had met Juro, he’d known that his talent wouldn’t work, that the big vamp was far too powerful, but sheer reflex had made him try it anyway. In retrospect, it had been an ill-considered impulse. Especially since it might have something to do with why he wasn’t able to penetrate Leighton’s natural shields. Maybe she’d picked up on that little exchange with Juro and was now guarding against him.

But even forewarned, she shouldn’t be able to block him so completely. His talent was unmatched. And that wasn’t ego; it was fact. In his more than fifty years as a vampire, he’d never encountered either a single human or a vampire who could resist his influence, excepting only the most powerful vampires. It was the reason his current mistress had sought him out, why she’d dragged him away from his merry band of thieves and given him this mission. And he couldn’t afford to fail her. His talent was strong and useful, but if he failed her, she’d destroy him without a thought.

The only good thing to come out of this fiasco was the fact that he was now on his way to Raphael’s huge estate, pulling through the gates with an all-access pass, courtesy of not just Leighton, but Juro. It was exactly what he’d hoped for. Except that the very
last
thing he wanted in this life or the next was an actual audience with Raphael himself. Raphael would suss him out in a heartbeat. And if Juro could squash him like a bug, Raphael was . . . well, let’s just say that what would be left of him after Raphael finished wouldn’t be worth squashing.

Unfortunately, a meeting with Raphael seemed to be where he was headed unless he acted quickly. His clever plan for how to get onto Raphael’s estate had somehow gotten twisted into a giant comedic clusterfuck.

He sighed as Juro drove the SUV through the gates and into the magic kingdom of Raphael. Pascal wasn’t a vampire who worried about things like manicured grounds or aesthetically pleasing landscapes. He preferred living in the big cities where his only acreage was the balcony off a high-rise condo. But even he appreciated the elegant grace of Raphael’s grand estate, with its rolling lawns of green and stands of ancient trees, all lit up with tiny white lights like a fairy princess’s dream.

He caught a glimpse of the main house, its clean white lines splashed with even more light, but then they were driving past it, the road twisting through the dense trees until a house of an entirely different sort appeared out of the darkness. This one looked like a transplant from somewhere in Europe, which was a place that Pascal had never been. It was dark grey stone with blue-peaked roofs, climbing ivy, and an elaborate maze of shrubbery covering the entire front entrance. Which was probably why Juro was pulling the SUV up to a side entrance instead.

“Out,” Juro ordered, apparently a man of few words.

Pascal swallowed his sigh of relief at what seemed to be a temporary reprieve, since it was doubtful that Juro would let him get close to Raphael alone. Plus, he was the only one getting out of the truck. It was also obvious that Leighton and Raphael didn’t reside in this pseudo-European dwelling. Why would they, when they had the big white mansion to live in?

Hopefully this meant Pascal wouldn’t be meeting Raphael tonight at least, which meant there was still hope for his grand plan. If he worked everything just right, he could still make it happen.

“Lord Raphael is meeting us here?” Pascal questioned, wanting to be sure.

Juro’s answer was a dismissive snort, his gaze lifting as the door next to him opened and a vampire Pascal recognized stepped into view. Jared. Raphael’s new lieutenant in the wake of Duncan’s elevation to the hallowed ranks of vampire lords.

“Juro,” Jared said, lifting his chin in greeting. He then switched his gaze to Pascal, his dark eyes studying him silently. Jared was a handsome black guy with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, and he was also a very big man. Not as big as Juro, but still a very big man.

“Jared,” Juro acknowledged. “This is Pascal. He’s
visiting
from Chicago,” he added, letting his doubts flavor every syllable. “Let’s put him to work while he’s here.”

Pascal concealed the delighted thrill that rushed through him at Juro’s words. His plan rested on his ability to work himself into Raphael’s guard force. Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad turn that Juro showed up after all, since he had the power to put Pascal on the job with a single sentence.

Jared’s eyes shifted over to Juro for a long moment of silent communication, though whether it was simply meaningful looks or whether they actually communicated telepathically, Pascal didn’t know. He didn’t care either. What mattered was that Juro was leaving, so he no longer had to worry about the powerful vamp figuring out what Pascal was up to. And, as a bonus, Juro was turning him over to Jared who could put Pascal right where he needed to be.

Of course, Jared was powerful, too. One didn’t become Raphael’s lieutenant without reason. But Pascal could be subtle and slick when he had to be. He’d bide his time, be the dutiful little vampire until Jared’s guard was down. And then he’d slip into the other vampire’s mind like a whisper, quiet and unseen. Pascal smiled privately. Yeah, this was working out perfectly . . .

Chapter Two

CYN DIDN’T SAY a word when Juro dropped Pascal off at what used to be Raphael’s sister Alexandra’s mansion among the trees. In the aftermath of what one could politely refer to as Alexandra’s disgrace—but what Cyn described in considerably less genteel language since the bitch had tried to get Cyn killed—the French provincial-style manse had been converted into a barracks for Raphael’s growing stable of soldiers, both vampire and human. If anyone doubted a war was coming, they needed only to count the number of Raphael’s vamps on the premises. As Lord of the West, he’d always maintained a large retinue of vampires of all talents and occupations. It took a lot of staff to maintain an estate of this size, and even more to run Raphael’s considerable corporate interests. And Raphael didn’t trust anyone but his own. Other than the human guards he employed to secure the estate during the daylight hours, every other task was performed by a vampire, from housekeeping to bookkeeping. But his vampire warriors were the most loyal of all his people. Every one of them was a vampire of his own making. They were his close security force and traveled with him everywhere.

And that was why Cyn found it odd that Juro would permit a vampire he didn’t know to bunk in among the guards and be
put to work
.

Okay, so giving him over to Jared’s custody wasn’t exactly an all-access pass. But something about this whole situation was pinging every instinct for self-preservation that Cyn possessed. And by self-preservation, she didn’t mean only her own, but Raphael’s.

She was frowning, still pondering the peculiar situation when they reached the main house. Juro stopped at the foot of the stairs, waited while she and Elke got out then immediately headed back toward the main gate.

“Think he’s going back to Luci’s?” Cyn asked Elke.

“How would I know?” Elke responded irritably. “She’s your friend, ask her. I’m going to the gym. You want to join me?”