Rajmund (3 page)

And as for Sarah, she was pretty sure Raphael wouldn't have noticed her at all if not for Cyn. Not because he was rude or anything, but because she honestly didn't cross his radar. Which was fine with her because in the final analysis, he was one scary guy.

The driver cursed abruptly, slamming on his brakes as the SUV in front of them did the same. Sarah grabbed the strap of her seatbelt. She was the only person wearing one. The vamps probably didn't need them, and neither did Cyn, for that matter, what with Raphael never taking his hands off her. The SUVs took off again, speeding through Manhattan, running signals and cutting off traffic with impunity. She supposed in a city with so many dignitaries, people were used to motorcades like this. There were plenty of blaring horns, but then, when
weren't
there horns honking in New York City? That's probably why it was called the city that never sleeps, who could sleep with all that noise?

She glanced over at Duncan, sitting next to her. He was the most human-seeming of all the vampires, but Cyn had assured her that Duncan was nearly as powerful as Raphael himself. He caught her glance and smiled absently, just as all three SUVs turned into the alley behind Chopin's. The most expensive and trendy club in Manhattan was owned by vampires. Who knew? Although, it actually seemed rather appropriate, given the elite club's usual clientele, which consisted of people famous for nothing but the accident of having been born with lots of money to spend on themselves. Unlike those glittering folk, however, who arrived at the front door in full view of the paparazzi—which was the whole point of going to Chopin's—Raphael and his group had detoured around the block to what was apparently a very private entrance.

Located in an alley, it was hardly a typical alley entrance. A dark gold awning of some plush and glittering material extended above a single door, with a dark blue carpet runner beneath it. And, rather than the glaring motion sensor lights of the other buildings they'd passed, a subdued, gentle glow picked out the gold in the awning and scattered it into the dark alley.

The SUVs pulled to a halt with Raphael's vehicle closest to the entrance. His security personnel debarked first, pouring from the two escort vehicles. Several of the vamps ran off in each direction, obviously to make sure no one was lurking nearby, while the others took up station in a half circle around the SUV. In the front seat, Juro didn't move, other than to raise his wrist to his mouth a couple of times. He had a radio microphone there and Sarah noticed he was wearing an earpiece too, again just like the Secret Service guys. Fascinating.

With no obvious warning, everyone was suddenly in motion. Juro whipped out of the SUV faster than Sarah could follow. The doors opened on the building side of the vehicle and at the same moment, the back door to the club swung outward in welcome. Unlike his security people, Raphael moved unhurriedly, sliding gracefully out of the SUV and holding out a hand to help Cyn—
as if she needed it
, Sarah thought, smiling. Still, it was sweet the way he waited, the way he kissed Cyn's hand and twirled her into the curve of his arm, the two of them laughing. And they certainly made a beautiful couple, Cyn in her figure-hugging black knit dress, those long legs going on forever above a pair of to-die-for stiletto heels, and Raphael with his silk wool sports coat and slacks over a black cashmere turtleneck. Sarah sighed. Ironic, really, that of all their friends it was cynical Cyn who'd fallen for a guy who was obviously a true romantic.

"Yo, Sarah!” Cyn's voice interrupted her musings. “You coming with us?"

Sarah looked up and grinned. Now
that
was the Cyn she knew. “Yeah, yeah.” She scooted across the seat, self-consciously tugging the short skirt of her red silk sheath down over her thighs. It was a beautiful dress. She and Cyn had engaged in a little shopping therapy today, wandering all over Manhattan, spending money like they both had it. Cyn had pressed Sarah gently about what was troubling her, but she wasn't the type to push too hard. She had too many issues of her own to dig unwanted into someone else's. Instead, they'd shared a very pleasant afternoon, shopping, drinking coffee, gossiping about mutual friends. By the time they'd returned to the townhouse, Sarah had convinced Cyn she was simply homesick after an unexpectedly long winter in a new city.

Besides, the day had been the best therapy she could have asked for. She'd spent several carefree hours with a good friend in one of the greatest cities in the world, found this beautiful dress at a terrific price and a pair of gorgeous shoes to match, and hadn't once worried about those damn dreams. And now she was about to go dancing at one of the hottest clubs in Manhattan.

But there was
no
way she was going to be able to get out of this stupid truck without flashing everyone in sight.

Cyn strolled back over to the open SUV door. “Come on. I'll block the view."

Sarah laughed, touching the running board briefly before stepping onto the surprisingly deep carpet.
Nice carpet
, she thought. Too nice to be sitting out in this weather. She was wondering if they'd deployed it just for Raphael, when her thoughts stuttered to a halt as every hair on her body suddenly stood on end. Her skin prickled almost painfully as something very like a giant electrostatic charge swept over the entire alley. “What the hell?” she gasped.

Cyn took her arm, unconcerned. “Vamps,” she whispered in Sarah's ear. “Too many and too strong in one place. They're like super territorial. This is Rajmund's city—that's RYE-mund, by the way, but they call him Raj, like Roger—anyway, it's his city, but Raphael's the more powerful vampire, which means all the security guys are on edge. They have this instinctive drive to protect their masters. No one's really threatening anyone, but it's an automatic reaction. They all brought their power up at the same time just now, but it'll calm down in a minute."

"Cyn,” Raphael's deep voice, smooth as honey, called back to them, and Cyn hustled them forward to where he waited just outside the club door. Patting Sarah's shoulder, Cyn left her to Duncan and stepped up to Raphael, sliding her arm through his and holding her face up for his kiss. His lips lingered over Cyn's mouth before he leaned closer and whispered something in her ear, something that made Cyn respond with a low, sultry laugh that had every male in hearing range turning his head to look.

"This must seem odd to you."

Sarah glanced over at Duncan. “It's kind of like royalty, I guess, huh?"

Duncan nodded. “Just so. Lord Raphael is a visiting prince, or if one is accurate, closer to a king. There are formalities which must be observed, particularly as this is
vampire
royalty. A wrong move could result in . . . considerable violence. Something we all wish to avoid."

"Absolutely,” Sarah agreed fervently. She had a feeling any violence would be very bad for a certain assistant professor. Next to her, Duncan smiled, as if aware of her thoughts.

"Once we are seated indoors, everyone will settle."

"Okay."

"Shall we?” He gestured toward the open door where Cyn and Raphael had disappeared along with half of their security people.

Once inside, they moved quickly down a long hallway and through a small anteroom. She could feel the low throb of a drumbeat from a door to their right, which was upholstered in tuck and roll leather. It sounded way too much like a heartbeat to Sarah, but that was probably just her imagination, given present company. The door opened to admit music and laughter, the typical sounds of a club, along with the hum of conversation and the soft chime of crystal. This was, after all, Chopin's, not some neighborhood bar.

Sarah found herself hustled along in the middle of the group, moving not so much under her own direction as carried by the general tide of motion. They passed through another leather upholstered door and into some sort of VIP lounge, with a long bar and a surprisingly empty dance floor. There were a few tables against one wall, but it was mostly low slung, open banquettes of black leather, with chrome and glass coffee tables and the occasional freestanding leather chair. There were candles on the tables, but most of the light came from wall sconces, their light beaming toward a dark ceiling where it bounced back to provide subtle shadows.

As Sarah observed all of this, she noticed that every eye in the place was on
them
. The dance floor was empty because everyone was focused with an almost scary intensity on Raphael. And she noticed something else. A lot of those watching were vampires, their eyes gleaming in the dark room as they followed the powerful vampire lord's progress. Their gazes were a mixture of fear and desire, as if they didn't know whether to run for their lives or to throw themselves at his feet.

A pair of double doors opened briefly on the far wall, admitting a blast of much louder music and raucous noise. And something else. The air pressure dropped sharply, and Sarah would have staggered if Duncan hadn't taken her arm. “What now?” she muttered.

"Rajmund,” Duncan said softly.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Sarah concentrated on breathing as a big vampire headed across the room toward them. He was tall like Raphael, but blond, with close cut hair and clear blue eyes in a face so stereotypically Slavic he defined the word. High, flat cheekbones, slightly narrow eyes, a strong jaw and a beautiful smile filled with white teeth. He was dressed in elegant formalwear, a tuxedo jacket and pants, and a crisply white formal shirt with smooth, flat pleats. But the neck of the shirt was open, the top button undone, and the confining black tie was hanging loosely, as if he'd just whipped it off.

The music was still playing, but what little conversation there had been was now silenced as everyone, human and vampire alike, held their collective breath, waiting to see what would happen next. Sarah looked around quickly, wondering if she should be worried. But Raphael's security seemed unconcerned—or at least no more concerned than they'd been all night—and Cyn was leaning casually against Raphael's side.

She turned her gaze back to the new arrival and realized there were no fangs in that devastating smile. None of the vamps were flashing visible fang. Probably some sort of protocol thing, like not bringing your guns to the peace table.

Raj stopped just short of Raphael's security and gave the massive Juro a grin that managed to be both friendly and challenging at the same time. The pressure against Sarah's chest increased and she began to wonder if she'd survive the greeting portion of the night, much less whatever came after. Juro didn't react, other than to stand aside, while Raj took a single step forward and bowed slightly. “My lord."

"Rajmund,” Raphael acknowledged.

Obviously, vampires didn't waste words, Sarah thought, somewhat irritated and wondering how much longer this would take. Her new shoes were spectacular and the four inch heels did wonders for her legs, but they were never intended for standing around like this.

"This way, my lord,” Rajmund said easily, as if continuing some silent conversation. And maybe he was. She'd heard rumors of vamp telepathic abilities, but hadn't had a chance to ask Cyn about it. For that matter, she wasn't sure her friend would have told her even if she'd asked. There were some things Cyn volunteered and others, well . . . Sarah could understand that. Cyn's first loyalty was to Raphael, after all.

"And who is this?"

Sarah looked up and found her gaze neatly captured by a pair of icy blue eyes. A frisson of energy sparked as every nerve in her body suddenly woke up and began to hum happily. She forced herself to move, to offer a handshake. She felt the strength of his fingers as they wrapped around hers, dwarfing her hand. He was not just tall, but big. His shoulders, his upper arms and chest were massive, tapering to narrow hips and muscular thighs and . . . oh my. Sarah had always liked big men. Of course, most men were big compared to her, but she liked
big
men, the kind who gave off heat, a coiled energy that warned they could spring into action at any moment. There was an air of contained violence to such men, an alpha male arrogance that said they could meet all comers and take every one of them.
This,
she told herself,
was a
vampire
. Suddenly she understood what Cyn had been talking about, what it felt like to have all that power and energy focused on only
you
.

He smiled—a slow, lazy smile that sucked away in a millisecond the little bit of air left in her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath and trying not to show it. Something in his eyes told her he knew it anyway, and she was suddenly struck by vivid images of naked bodies in a darkened room. But, no. He'd leave the lights on, so those icy eyes could drink in every tremor of her body as she writhed.
Jesus, Sarah, get a grip!

Her eyes flashed to his face, and she realized she'd been staring like an idiot when he said in a rich, unhurried voice, “Rajmund Gregor. Raj, to my friends.” His words were deep and resonant, starting way down in his diaphragm and making the long journey up through that wonderful chest to her ears.

His eyes glinted with humor and Sarah bit her lips against the urge to get even closer to him, to feel that big body wrapped . . . What was wrong with her? She swallowed hard and managed a presentable smile. “I'm Cyn's friend, Sarah Stratton,” she said, and cursed her pale skin as a blush heated her cheeks.

Raj only laughed cheerfully and placed his huge hand at the small of her back. “Let's get you seated, sweetheart,” he said, propelling her across the floor in Raphael's wake. A vamp Sarah didn't recognize went ahead and held yet another door open for them. Juro disappeared inside this new room briefly, then reappeared and nodded.

The room was clearly reserved for very private parties. It was furnished much like the VIP lounge they'd crossed through, but the leather was softer, the tables burnished steel rather than chrome, and the glass tops thicker and polished to a gleaming finish. Raphael and Cyn strolled over to the largest of the banquette-like sofas—an open curve of black leather against the wall, with a low glass coffee table sitting in front of it. They settled next to each other, while Duncan took a leather barrel chair facing Raphael across the table. Sarah sat on the other side of Cyn, studiously ignoring the wicked grin Raj sent her way, promising a dangerous evening ahead. She tucked herself against the soft leather and pretended to care about the decor.