Authors: D B Reynolds
Rajmund (43 page)
Serge and Charles fell to their faces, groveling, begging for their lives, in what they had to know was a useless effort. No one involved in this operation could be permitted to live. It violated the most basic tenet of Vampire. Raj didn't even spare them a glance, stepping over the pile of dust and entering the house. Em could take care of these two. He wanted to find Sarah.
In the basement, Sarah watched with some amusement as Estelle Edwards tried to jam the desktop computer into a narrow box. The doc was sweating buckets and grunting like a pig with the effort, but it wasn't working. She finally gave up, letting the awkward CPU drop to the floor with a crash. She was swearing viciously, using words Sarah knew existed, but had never actually heard spoken before. Wow.
The door at the end of the corridor thundered open, hitting the wall with more force than usual. Edwards looked up in panic before her mouth tightened into a grim line of determination. This was not a woman who gave up easily. She pulled the keys from the pocket of her white lab coat and quickly uncuffed Sarah from the table, grabbing a fistful of her hair and dragging her backwards across the room to face the door. Sarah stumbled, her bound feet struggling to find purchase, but the woman only tightened her grip, bringing tears to Sarah's eyes. It felt like her hair was being torn out by the roots.
"Don't say a word, bitch,” Edwards hissed in Sarah's ear, and she could feel the sharp point of something poking into her back just above her kidney.
She heard footsteps coming down the hall, and then more loud noise as someone kicked in the doors of the three cells. She sucked in a relieved breath, knowing Trish and the others had been found in time, but then blew the breath out quickly when the movement caused Edward's weapon to slice into her skin, drawing blood.
The noise stopped suddenly and she heard a familiar growl that made her smile. Raj was coming.
Raj stormed toward the last door in the corridor, the only one standing open. He could smell the night air coming through a broken window, but above that was the scent of blood—Sarah's blood. Emelie would have raced around him, but he held her back with a sharp command, stepping into the doorway himself to find none other than Estelle Edwards, and clutched before her, her head wrenched at a painful angle, was his Sarah.
Raj let his gaze roam over his lover's body, noting the dark bruise on the side of her face, the purpled swelling of bare ankles where someone had bound her feet with plastic ties so tight she could barely stand. He catalogued the injuries, tallying up the damage he would inflict on this human before he killed her. He looked up and met Sarah's eyes, seeing the defiant flash of angry gold despite her predicament. He smiled and said gently, “Sarah."
"Hey, Raj.” She managed a grin. “Quite a set up—” She cried out as Edwards jerked her back and Raj smelled the flow of fresh blood. The woman had a knife. And she was cutting Sarah with it.
His rage was so great, it was nearly paralyzing. He snarled loudly, opening his mouth and baring his fangs. “Emelie."
Emelie came up next to him. “Yes, my lord."
Edwards stiffened, and said, “You let me out of here, or I'll kill—"
That was all she managed to say before everything changed. With movements far too fast for the human eye to see, much less respond to, Raj crossed the room and spun Sarah away from Edwards, throwing the doctor toward Emelie who grabbed her and broke her wrist as an inducement to drop the weapon. Raj's attention was all for Sarah, scooping her up and setting her safely on the examining table before whirling to face the human woman who was screaming in pain, cradling her broken arm.
He crossed the small room in one long step and wrapped his fingers around her throat, cutting off the noise. “I met your husband, Dr. Edwards,” he said softly. Her eyes bulged and her face began to purple as she struggled for air, clawing at his fingers with her only functional hand. “He deserves better,” Raj said. He dropped Edwards to the floor and Cervantes was there, throwing her limp body over his shoulder. He left the room quickly, footsteps pounding down the hall and up the stairs.
Raj turned back to Sarah who looked up as he approached, her eyes filled with worry as well as relief. Emelie was crouched in front of her, carefully cutting away the plastic ties which were buried in the flesh of her swollen ankles. Raj met Sarah's eyes and smiled grimly. She had a right to be worried. As relieved as he was to find her alive and reasonably well, he was furious that she'd put herself in this position in the first place.
He picked up her bound hands and snapped the metal handcuffs, tossing them across the room. Her eyes filled with tears and she rubbed her wrists carefully, crying out loud when Em finally got the ties off and the blood surged back into her feet.
"Emelie,” he said softly, never taking his eyes off Sarah.
He felt more than saw Emelie glance from him to Sarah and back again, and heard her sigh. She leaned in to give Sarah a hug, whispering, “We'll talk later."
Raj scowled at her back as she left the room, and then transferred that scowl to Sarah.
"I know,” she said in a resigned voice. He picked her up and moved her farther back onto the table, gently lifting her legs one at a time to soothe away the pain, sending warm drifts of power into the swollen tissue of her feet and ankles. It would have been faster to share blood with her, but he knew she wouldn't want that.
"Raj,” she said in a small voice. He glanced up at her. “Are you pissed?"
He released her foot carefully and took her in his arms, holding her against his chest and feeling the steady thud of her heartbeat below his ribs. He kissed the top of her head. “I'm happy to see you alive."
She sighed contentedly and sank into his embrace, scooting forward to wrap her arms around his waist.
"I'm also pissed as hell,” he added dryly. Her arms tightened and she rubbed her face against the front of his sweater.
"I'm sorry,” she said.
"I'm sure you are."
She slapped him lightly. “Don't be mean. You know what I meant."
He chuckled softly and held her, knowing it couldn't last. His enemies had come close to taking Sarah's life. He couldn't take that risk again, couldn't let Sarah pay for what he was. “We have to get you out of here,” he said finally. “Was this the main location?"
"I think so. Edwards pretty much lived in here and I think all the data was kept here. I don't know if she uploaded anything."
"Simon will take care of that. This place, this entire project, will disappear. It never happened."
"I'll need to disappear again too,” she said on a tired breath. “Blackwood saw to that before he scuttled out of town."
Raj sighed and pulled away. “Simon can help you,” he said. “Anything you need, you can ask him or Emelie. They'll get you a new identity, transportation . . . whatever's necessary."
Sarah looked up at him and he could see the confusion and hurt on her face. “Raj?"
"I can't stay, Sarah, and I can't take you with me. I've got . . . responsibilities. Things I have to do now that—” He cut himself off. She didn't need to hear every bitter detail of his new life as a vampire lord. It would be months before he had the territory under control. Months spent traveling, meeting and defeating challenge after challenge, destroying those who'd grown too independent under Krystof's rule to accept a new lord, gathering in those who needed help, either from neglect or simply the trauma of the transition. Months of exhausting, brutal work followed by a long, long lifetime of rule. It was a burden he'd never sought, but it was
his
burden, not Sarah's. She deserved better.
He took her face in his hands, stroking his thumb over her soft lips, tenderly kissing her swollen temple with its ugly bruise. She closed tear-filled eyes as he bent to kiss her one last time, lingering to savor the sweetness of her mouth. “I'll send Emelie in.” He left before she could open her eyes, before he could see the pain he'd just put there.
Emelie came around the corner, still scowling after Raj's departing back. She took in Sarah's hurt, bewildered look and crossed to her quickly, shaking her head in disgust. She tsked loudly and said, “Men are such idiots. Makes me glad I'm a lesbian.” She looked Sarah up and down, frowning at her injuries. “Didn't he share blood with you?"
Sarah blushed. “No."
"Well, what the hell was he doing in here then? Jesus, I can't believe—"
"It's not his fault,” Sarah insisted, jumping to Raj's defense. “It's me. He tried, um, before and I wouldn't, that is, I didn't—” To her horror, she started crying.
"Oh, baby,” Emelie breathed. “What will I do with the two of you now?” She held Sarah, letting her cry away all the fear she'd been pushing back since they'd bonked her on the head and thrown her in the backseat of that car, all of the pain from her wretched aching feet and arms, the throbbing in her head. And most of all the pain in her heart at the thought of never seeing Raj again.
"Better now?” Emelie asked.
Sarah nodded, reaching for a tissue from the nearby stand. She blew her nose and threw the used tissue in the trash. “Sorry."
"That's okay. I'm used to it. Raj has that effect on a lot of people."
Sarah laughed and felt her eyes fill with fresh tears. She looked down at her hands so Emelie wouldn't notice and saw the blurry outline of a white card. She frowned and looked up at Em.
"Give him a couple of months,” Em said patiently. “It's going to be rough for a while, but after that . . .” She nodded at the card, which Sarah saw had Em's name and cell phone printed on it. Em met her eyes, giving her a steady, meaningful look. “Trust me on this one, babe."
Sarah palmed the card and nodded. “Okay."
"Right,” Em said. “Now, let's get you gone. The guys are gonna tear this place apart, and then we'll have Simon get started on your little problem. He's a genius at making people disappear.” She grinned wickedly. “In a good way, that is."
Sarah laughed and hoped Em was right. About Simon and everything else.
New York, New York—Manhattan
Raj stood on the rooftop high above Manhattan, watching cars moving up and down the street below, the red and white of their lights reflecting off the wet pavement in a blur of color. It had rained again today; the month was shaping up to be one of the wettest in New York history. But for now, the rain had stopped. The air was warm and muggy, but far better than the sterile, processed stuff waiting for him inside, along with yet another marathon session of meetings with his various underlings.
If anyone had told him three months ago that life as a vampire lord was somewhat akin to that of a corporate executive, he'd have laughed. Oh, he'd known there was business involved. After all, he'd been running Krystof's affairs in Manhattan for decades. But this endless nattering about every tiny detail of even the smallest vampire enterprise in the farthest reaches of his territory . . . Christ, there were times he wanted to run as far and as fast as he could go. Find some tropical paradise with warm, velvety nights and soft waves lapping at sun-warmed beaches—just leave all of this crap behind and say
fuck it
.
But there were so many souls he cared about who relied on him—Emelie and the rest of his children. And now a seemingly endless number of others he really didn't care about, but who relied on him just as much, if not more.
And besides, who would spend those velvety nights
with
him? Paradise wouldn't be paradise if he was all alone.
He sighed, straightening away from the railing and turning to survey the many and vigilant vampires who shared the rooftop with him. He was certainly never alone here. Not anymore. His eyes scanned his security team, noting Emelie's absence. Em had seemed to sense his dwindling patience for meetings and suggested he let her clear his calendar for the rest of the night. There were a few hours yet before sunrise, but he'd agreed readily enough, originally thinking about dropping in at one of his clubs, although, he'd quickly discarded that idea as just more business. There were always the trendy human clubs, crowded with beautiful people desperate for attention. But that didn't appeal either. Maybe he'd just spend a quiet few hours at home—some chilled vodka, good music. He shook his head in amusement. He must really be getting old if that was his idea of a good time.
He headed for the stairway that would take him down one flight to the top floor of the building and his penthouse condo. His security team moved with him, anticipating his direction and sending two of their number down the stairwell ahead of him, while the rest formed up around him. Raj stifled another sigh and let them do their job, going the short distance down the stairs, through the fire door and then down the hallway to the double doors of his condo.
They stopped there, waiting while he tapped in his security code, taking up positions to either side of the hallway door while he stepped inside the darkened penthouse alone. That was the one thing he insisted upon, the one thing he and Emelie had fought long and hard over, even though she'd known his will would triumph in the end. He permitted no security inside—this was his home, his inner sanctum. It was the one place where there were no petitioners, no one looking to him for answers or protection. The one place where he could be truly alone.
Except he wasn't alone tonight.
He heard her breathing first, speeding up to match her racing heart. She stood almost directly across from him, one hand touching the back of a chair as if to anchor her in the dark room. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as it all came back to him, the feel of her beneath him, around him, her small cries of pleasure as she came over and over until she lay limp in his arms, her pale skin damp with sweat. He exerted his will and candles flared to life around the room, more welcoming than the harsh, artificial light of the modern era.
Her eyes widened, their golden flecks echoing the flames. Finally she looked at him, raising her chin defiantly, as if she expected an argument. He smiled. She'd get no argument from him, not tonight.