Free Raphael by D. B. Reynolds Page A

breasts plumped out of a low-cut, lace bodice that narrowed tightly to her waist, then flared over what had to be panniers of some sort beneath her dress. She reminded Cyn of the porcelain-faced dolls her grandmother used to bring her from Europe. Pretty little things to be put on a shelf and admired, but never touched, and never, ever played with.
    "She's only a child,” Cyn said, her voice thick with disapproval. “How old was she when you turned her?"
    Duncan jolted to his feet, a protest on his lips, but Raphael held up a strong, square-fingered hand to stop him, his gaze never leaving Cynthia's face. “I take into consideration, Ms. Leighton, that you are human and perhaps do not know our customs. My people—” He indicated Duncan with a tip of his head. “—are fiercely loyal to me and will not be so tolerant. You might want to consider that in the future. Whether you wish to acknowledge it or not, I am one of only eight vampire lords on this continent. My power is, frankly, beyond your comprehension. I expect, and have earned through my own efforts, the respect of those around me, and if not respect, then at least courtesy.
    "Alexandra's physical age is not your concern, and such a question is an unforgivable breach of etiquette among my kind. Regardless of her appearance, she is an adult of several hundred years."
    Cynthia flushed, embarrassed, angry and scared stiff. She'd been rattled by Raphael's obvious pain at seeing Matias and shocked at the girl's youthful appearance, but that was no excuse. She was smarter than this. “I apologize, Lord Raphael. I was ... surprised and reacted without thinking.” She lifted her chin, daring him to refuse her apology.
    Raphael held her gaze, his face nearly expressionless. Cynthia forced herself to breathe.
    "Duncan,” Raphael said at last, his dark eyes still on Cynthia. “Please continue.” Then he gave her a small nod of acceptance and gestured once again to the screen.
    Cynthia turned slowly, her heart pounding, her legs wobbly with adrenaline rush. It took her a moment to focus on what she was seeing. “Who's the redhead?” she asked finally.
    "Albin.” Raphael's voice was so cold it made her shiver, and she knew without asking that she was looking at the traitor.
    The rest of the scene unfolded on screen as they watched. Cynthia sucked back a gasp of disbelief when she saw Matias literally dusted and gave a hard smile as Alexandra shook Albin off and strode from the room ahead of him. Duncan gave a little tsk of disgust when Albin paused before leaving the room to cast a contemptuous grin right at the camera. “He knew the cameras were there,” she commented.
    "Of course,” Raphael agreed.
    The remainder of the video was a montage of images cut together from the hallway and exterior cameras, showing the rest of the abduction and including Albin's obviously human accomplices. It ended with a shot of the rear end of the black van as it drove away, leaving bodies scattered on the ground around the gate.
    "Who found the bodies?” she asked, subdued.
    "My security forces, when they rose for the night. Alexandra's room was empty, unused, as were those of Albin and Matias. Alexandra's ... former security chief immediately instituted a search of the house and grounds. His men reported back from the gate with the unfortunate news."
    "Unfortunate,” Cynthia repeated. She drew breath to go off on him for his callousness at the human guards’ deaths, remembered the loss in his voice when he spoke of Matias, and said instead, “The human deaths. You didn't call the police. What happened to them?"
    Raphael was watching her, and with that uncanny intuition of his seemed to understand the realignment she'd just worked out ... and the question she was really asking. “It has been some time, Cyn, since my people were reduced to scavenging bodies for sustenance. These,” he gestured at the monitor, “were cared for and sent to their families, if they had them. If