Sophia (6 page)

True to Larissa’s word, the cottage was already warm by the time Sophia made her way through the garden. Given the size of Lucien’s manse, she was certain there were plenty of guest rooms in its basement. But she preferred the privacy of these old cottages, and this one in particular. Although spacious enough for comfort, it was nonetheless the smallest of the three guest houses and the farthest from the main building. But it was also the most secure. Like all the others, the windows were for show only, completely blocked by sealed metal shutters inside. That alone made it safe enough for most vampires. But this particular cottage also had a basement level, accessed through a hidden door beneath the floor of the generous closet. Decades ago, Lucien had shown it to her, the last time she’d visited him here in
Vancouver
.

Sophia opened her suitcase and began hanging up the few clothes she’d brought with her, delaying the inevitable moment when she’d have to open Lucien’s envelope. She held up a wrinkled silk blouse, wondered if it was worth getting the thing cleaned and pressed, when there was a knock on the cottage door. She listened carefully first, then reached out with her vampiric senses. It was a human male, probably one of the servants with her blood.

She dropped the blouse and crossed the room, verifying before opening the door that no one but the single human waited on the other side. The cottage’s low light cast a yellow square of illumination on the man who stood on the narrow porch step. He was taller than she was—most men were anymore—although this one was not by much. She judged him to be in his late twenties, pretty, slender and boyish in the way she liked her men to be these days. His dark good looks and soft brown eyes reminded her of the lovely young men so common to the cafes and clubs she frequented in
Rio de Janeiro
. She eyed him appreciatively, up and down, frowning when she saw that his hands were empty. Maybe this wasn’t her blood delivery, after all.

“Mistress,” he whispered, those big eyes lingering briefly on her face before dropping submissively.

Sophia barely managed to hide her grimace of distaste. She’d forgotten Lucien’s penchant for blood slaves, which meant he rarely had bagged blood on hand. Not that his slaves weren’t willing donors—Lucien didn’t keep any other kind. And it wasn’t that she objected to taking blood from the vein. Quite the contrary. All of her young men in
Rio
were very much aware of what she was and more than willing to spend a night, or longer, with her. It was a rare thing that she resorted to bagged blood anymore.

But none of her lovers were blood slaves, either, those men and women who existed solely to be used by their vampire masters, humans who hungered for the sexual release that such use provided. It was an addiction every bit as powerful as the drugs sold in dark alleys all over the world. And like any addiction, it could be used as a weapon against the addict, forcing them to perform unspeakable acts, to endure horrific treatment that too frequently crossed the line into torture.

Lucien’s slaves were all well cared for, however. She gave him that much. Abuse was never tolerated, not in this house. Even so, his slaves were so . . . pathetically eager. With an emphasis on the pathetic.

She sighed. It was too late to arrange for something less personal, so it was either this lovely young man or she’d have to wait until tomorrow night. She suspected tomorrow would be even worse than today because the one thing she knew, there would be nothing good in that elegant envelope of Lucien’s.

She stepped back. “Come in,
gato
.”

* * * *

The slave was certainly skilled. Sophia wondered if Lucien had perhaps trained this one himself. Her Sire was quite the hedonist when it came to his lovers, choosing men and women equally. And always the pretty ones.

Aurelio—probably not his real name, but one chosen to appeal to her—moaned softly as she pulled him away from her naked breast, fisting a hand in his dark hair and tugging lazily. He twisted his head away obediently, baring his neck in a fine, taut line of golden skin. There wasn’t time for a true seduction, but she had played with him a bit, letting him earn his pleasure, building the anticipation. She might not keep any blood slaves of her own, but she understood them, understood their need to
earn
their reward. An odd sort of reward in her mind, but, as the French were wont to say,
chacun ses goûts
. Although she was fairly certain that not even the most esoteric of gourmands had actual blood drinking in mind.

Pretty Aurelio whimpered when she teased him, rolling him over until he was beneath her, licking a long line down his neck and breathing against it softly, smiling when the skin prickled with goose bumps. Her fangs punctured the soft velvet of his vein without warning. He groaned, a guttural sound of pure pleasure as his already stiff cock hardened even further against her thigh. Sophia drank deeply, relishing that first hot rush of blood down her throat, feeling it spread throughout her body, replenishing tissues dehydrated by the long flight and the stress of everything that had happened since. She was suddenly glad Lucien kept his stable of blood slaves. She’d needed this; no bagged blood could have nourished her so completely.

One more long draught and she began to slow, careful to take only what she needed, only what the human male could afford. A few more delicate sips, savoring the bouquet of his blood, untainted as it was by alcohol or drugs, and she withdrew her fangs slowly, pausing to nip playfully as his flesh before licking his skin clean and closing the small wounds.

Sophia closed her eyes, sated and ready to rest, the long journey catching up with her at last. But there was Aurelio to tend to. He lay perfectly still beneath her, so careful to make no demand for his own completion, but she could feel his heart pounding, could hear the heated thrumming of his blood as it headed in a single direction. Toward that ever hardening shaft between his legs.

Sophia let her gaze travel along his sweat-sheened body, always willing to admire a beautiful male form. She trailed her hand slowly over the curve of his collarbones, down past the flat, hairless planes of his solid chest until she encountered the silky line of hair arrowing straight to his groin. She purred quietly in approval as her fingers closed around his straining erection, feeling him tremble beneath her as he struggled to remain still.

She stroked him slowly at first, admiring his discipline, admiring even more the fine piece of flesh she held in her hand. As hard as marble, it was satiny smooth and elegantly shaped. Long and thick with a well-formed head, the narrow scar of his circumcision so exquisitely sensitive that he shivered every time she touched it, which she did again, delighting in his moan of entreaty, begging her wordlessly to release him.

“Sssshh, Aurelito,” she bent to murmur against his ear. “Are you ready to come for me?”

His eyelids fluttered, his cock jumping in her hand. “Yes, please, mistress,” he whispered.

Sophia tightened her hold on him, squeezing and releasing as she played her fingers over the warm, golden skin. “Then, come for me,
gato
. Come now.”

Aurelio’s eyes flew open, rolling back in his skull until only the whites were visible, grunting low in his throat as he thrust uncontrollably against her hand, his long-delayed orgasm spurting between her fingers, onto his thighs and belly until he was spent.

Sophia remained still, giving him time to recover, letting his heart and breathing slow to something approaching normal. She waited as long as she could, but the sun was very close now and she wanted to be underground before it arrived.

“Aurelio,” she said softly.

His eyes opened, cheeks flaming red with embarrassment. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said immediately. “I didn’t mean—”

“Be calm. You served me well.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he said fervently. He grabbed the loose, linen pants he’d worn to the door and wiped himself quickly before standing and pulling the now sticky garment up his legs and tightening the drawstring closure.

Sophia eyed his tight ass appreciatively as he did so, wishing she’d had longer to play tonight.

But it was not to be.

She stood, barefoot, but still fully dressed, except for her shirt, which gaped open, her breasts displayed, the nipples flushed and hard after Aurelio’s dedicated attention. The blood slave cast surreptitious glances at her, but Sophia made no move to cover herself. She took pleasure in the knowledge of her body’s appeal to males, whether human or vampire.

“Thank you, Aurelio,” she said, opening the door to the garden. “I am very pleased.”

“Thank you, mistress. It was my honor.”

Sophia watched him hurry into the cold night, shivering in sympathy of the few clothes he wore. Perhaps one became used to these temperatures if one lived here long enough. Closing the door quickly, she locked and bolted it, then turned and stared at Lucien’s envelope where it sat on a charming antique bureau.

Sighing impatiently, she shook off a curious sense of foreboding and crossed immediately to the bureau. She picked up the letter, taking it with her as she hurried to the closet and its secret entrance. Taking the few steep stairs downward, she closed and locked the door behind her, then sank onto the thick mattress which served as a bed in the tight quarters.

Legs crossed beneath her, she slid a scarlet fingernail beneath the seal and sliced it open, withdrawing a single, folded sheet of paper. A photograph tumbled to the floor and she bent over to pick it up, frowning at the three people pictured there. Two men and a woman. None of whom she knew.

Laying the photograph aside, she unfolded the piece of heavy linen writing paper and found it covered in Lucien’s handwriting. Sophia’s heart sank as she began to read.

Chapter Seven

Raphael sighed as the vault door closed behind him and he listened as Cyn locked them in with a series of muted thuds. This room was below ground, accessed by a private elevator and reserved for his exclusive use when visiting the
Seattle
compound. All of his vampires here slept their days underground, secure in a state-of-the-art vault like this one, which, once closed, could be opened only from the inside, except by Raphael or the nest’s leader or security chief. Within the larger vault, each vampire had a private sleeping chamber. Raphael’s private room was in a separate wing, more spacious and better appointed, but it was no more or less secure than those of the other vampires in the compound.

Cyn threw her leather jacket over a chair, slipped off the shoulder holster and popped the magazine from her Glock before coming close enough to lean into him and wrap her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry about Marco and
Preston
,” she said. “They were with you a long time.”

Raphael circled her slender shoulders and pulled her against his chest, taking comfort from her presence. “I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted.

“I told you,” she teased gently. “Besides, after that last
New Mexico
trip of yours, I swore I’d never let you leave me behind again. I was miserable the whole time you were gone.”

Raphael smiled into her sweet-smelling hair and let himself be distracted from the horrible night. “Were you?” he asked.

She jabbed him in the side. “Like you weren’t. Besides, who will take care of you if I’m not here?”

“
Duncan
? Juro, perhaps?”

“Don’t be obtuse.”

“Obtuse. I suppose that’s better than your usual epithet.”

“Which one would that be?”

Raphael snorted dismissively. “I’m hardly going to provide ammunition for my own execution.”

“Don’t be a baby.”

“Hmmm,” he murmured, gliding his hands down over her back to cup her ass. “Not what I had in mind, no.”

Cyn pressed herself closer, rising up onto her toes to reach his mouth. “How long before sunrise?”

“More than an hour, sweet Cyn.”

“We’ll have to hurry then.”