Free Rajmund by D. B. Reynolds Page A

before dawn, and I needed to eat. What's this about?"
    "Rajmund."
    Every vampire in the room—except for Raj—went down on one knee as Krystof appeared in the doorway to his office. The kneeling was an affectation he insisted upon, and one Raj hadn't granted him in years.
    "Sire,” Raj said with a bend of his neck, nothing more. He lifted his head and met Krystof's gaze directly, daring him to force the issue.
    The vampire lord's thin mouth tightened briefly before curving into an insincere smile. “It's good to see you again, Rajmund.” His voice was strong and even, which meant he'd probably just fed. Over the last few years, it had become apparent that Krystof was feeding more and more often. It was another sign of his growing weakness, that he was reverting to a schedule closer to that of a newborn than a vamp of his considerable age and power. When he was hungry, his speech would become hesitant and uncertain like an aging human's, although he never looked old. It wasn't his body that was aging. It was his mind.
    "Do come in,” he said now, sweeping his hand across his body in a graceful gesture of invitation. He started back into his office, but stopped, frowning as he gave Jozef a pointed look. “Clear this room, Jozef. Rajmund and I will require privacy."
    The security chief rose from his kneeling position and stared moodily at their master's departing back. A long minute later, he turned his head and gave Raj an unreadable look before giving the vampire closest to them a quick push. “Everyone upstairs,” he barked.
    Raj shrugged, gave the fuming Morales a wink and strolled through the doorway to Krystof's inner sanctum.
    Krystof was alone but for a young woman lolling on an elaborate, velvet settee against one wall. She was half-naked, her blouse hanging open on small, pale breasts, her skirt scrunched up nearly to her waist and her underwear gone, if there had ever been any. Fresh blood, red and wet, seeped lazily from the big vein on her neck and she was humming softly, a dreamy expression on her face as she twirled a lock of purple-streaked hair with one finger.
    "Lovely, isn't she?"
    Raj swung his attention immediately over to the vampire lord, irritated that he'd permitted himself to be distracted by the human female. Distraction could be deadly in Krystof's presence, no matter that the old man was half senile. “Young,” he commented. But then Krystof had always liked them young.
    Krystof bared his teeth in a grin that showed far more than a hint of fang. “Over eighteen and plucked from one of the blood houses, so you know she's legal.” He turned his back and walked silently across the deep pile carpeting to sit behind a fussy antique writing table with inlays so beautiful that even Raj could appreciate them. Velvet curtains in a full, rich red hung behind the vampire lord's desk—purely for effect since there no windows in any of the basement rooms. The remaining walls were bordered by a deep mahogany wainscoting against subdued satin wall paper.
    Krystof seated himself on a delicate chair and folded his soft-looking hands on the leather-trimmed blotter. His long, dark hair was bound with a black, velvet ribbon, framing an unlined face and brown eyes which were remarkably clear, showing no signs of stress as he gazed up at Raj expectantly. Raj was reminded of an old, Russian saying about a person whose face was untouched by the wind. It referred to someone unmarked by the hardships of life, and it wasn't a compliment. Here was a vampire lord who had lived for centuries, who had enslaved hundreds, if not thousands, of both humans and vampires, who killed brutally for no reason but his own convenience. And yet, there he sat, the picture of a pampered young aristocrat whose hands had never been soiled by anything so crude as blood.
    Raj stared at this creature who had so changed his own life and was nearly overcome by the urge to leap across the desk and choke the unnatural life from him.
    "Why am