Cyn lifted her aim from the truck’s engine compartment and trained it on the driver instead. She saw the windshield crack, saw the driver slump over the wheel as if his strings had been cut. Saw someone big in the corner of her eye, and then a pair of strong arms was grabbing her, and before she knew it, she was inside the house and the door was being slammed with only seconds to spare before an ear shattering explosion rocked the homestead on its ancient foundation.

Chapter Eight

“Cyn?” Raphael stroked her face softly. She wasn’t hurt. He’d know if she’d sustained any physical injury. It was most likely the concussive shock of the explosion, which had rocked Lucas’s fortified house like a child’s toy and stolen her consciousness briefly.

Her eyes opened, green and a little confused. He watched puzzlement turn to wide-eyed alarm before her gaze cleared and she reached up to touch his cheek.

“Is everyone okay?” she asked. “Mason was outside, and Sebastien, and … the house?” She looked around, struggling to sit up.

“Everyone is well, lubimaya,” he said as he helped her sit up. “I told you, Lucas’s shack is far more than it seems. He often spends the daylight hours here and has no desire to be interrupted or attacked while he sleeps.”

“It must be a fortress,” she said softly. “Impressive. So what the hell happened?”

“Obviously, the truck was filled with explosives.”

“Will you help me up?”

Raphael stood easily, then held out his hand. Cyn grabbed it, and he pulled her to her feet and into his embrace, whispering against her ear. “One too many times, my Cyn. This has to end.”

She pulled back to frown at him. “The only way to end this is to figure out who’s behind it, and take them out. You big bad bloodsuckers have any ideas on that?”

“One or two. Lucas?” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

“Replacement vehicles are on the way, Sire. We should remain inside—”

“Fuck that,” Cyn snapped. “We need to recover whatever we can of that damn truck. The driver’s dead, but if we can figure out where the vehicle came from, we can—”

“How do you know the driver’s dead?” a deep voice said from behind her.

Cyn spun around, one hand on her Glock before it registered that Raphael never would have permitted a threat to come up behind her. She left her hand there anyway, and Raphael knew it was because it was Aden who’d spoken and she didn’t know him. The knowledge that Raphael and Lucas considered him an erstwhile ally would count in his favor, but even that wouldn’t be enough to make her trust a vampire she didn’t know.

“Because I killed him,” she said flatly, answering Aden’s question. “And if my bullets didn’t do it, then that explosion surely did. Raphael, I need to get out there before any more evidence is destroyed.”

“My lord,” Aden said, addressing Raphael. “I’m not certain the females should be involved in this.” He lowered his gaze to regard Cyn coolly. “I’ve spoken to Mason, and it was the two women who drew first, possibly in something of a panic upon realizing their own danger. I also find it curious that Ms. Leighton somehow knew the truck was coming before either of the vampires on guard. Perhaps we should check it ourselves first, rather than permit her—”

He didn’t get any further than that.

Cyn went ballistic. She pulled her weapon, her movement faster than a human should have been capable of. But Raphael was faster yet. He grabbed her from behind, wrapping her in his arms and holding her hand in place before the gun cleared her holster.

“Gently, my Cyn,” he whispered against her ear.

But there was nothing gentle about the rage burning in his chest, making his blood seem to boil in his veins. He was furious at the insult to Cyn, to her honor, and his blood link with her only made it worse. His fury leaked through to Cyn, combined with her own rage, and then pulsed back at him the same way, creating a closed circuit of his anger, stoking it higher and higher until it was a living, breathing thing. Until every other vampire in the room froze, wondering if they would survive the next few minutes.

“Jared, clear the room,” Raphael ordered.

“My lord,” Jared murmured, and hustled over to the front door where Nicholas was already inputting a code on the keypad, releasing the security shutters. The steel plates retracted with a heavy grinding noise that made him suspect at least one of them had been damaged in the explosion. But no one commented on it. They simply waited in silence until Jared was able to pull the door open, and then one by one the lesser vampires vacated the room.

Jared was the last to go, meeting Raphael’s eyes with a nod, before pulling the door closed behind him, leaving only Aden, Raphael and Lucas, along with Kathryn—who’d refused to leave—and Cyn. Raphael hadn’t moved an inch while he waited. His arms still encircled Cyn, holding her tightly, preventing her from taking any action, still worried about what her anger might drive her to do. Or perhaps it was his own anger that worried him and Cyn both, because she freed a hand enough to rest it on his where it gripped her upper arm, and he felt a rush of warmth through their shared link.

There was no warmth when he spoke to Aden, however.

“I am hundreds of years older than you are,” he said in a voice that frosted the air around them. “I come from a time when women were chattel to be traded away for economic or social gain. But even I am not so backward that I continue to discount the integrity of women, not to mention their courage and intelligence. Lucas has told me you have issues with females. That is your history, your prerogative, your foolish prejudice. But when you let that prejudice interfere with serious affairs, with matters of life and death, that is ignorance and stupidity. My mate is worth a thousand of you. If she were a vampire, you would be calling her Lord of the South. Remember that before you think to insult her again, or the next time I’ll let her go ahead and kill you.”

Aden’s eyes had come alive as he listened to Raphael, as his avid gaze shifted to stare at Cyn. “So, the rumors are true,” he said softly. “It was you who killed Jabril.”

Cyn froze, her heart pounding against Raphael’s arm where he still held her fast. She tightened her grip on his hand, and he knew what she was asking. She wanted to claim her kill. She was justifiably proud of having gotten rid of the depraved and murderous Jabril, but Raphael had repeatedly told her to keep it quiet, that it was dangerous for anyone to know. And that was still true. But if Aden thought to join Raphael’s Council—and it was his Council, no matter its official designation anymore—then Aden needed to know with whom he was dealing. And he needed to know that he could not fuck with Raphael’s mate.

Raphael’s arms around Cyn gentled slightly. “It is true,” he said finally, making certain that Cyn could hear the pride in his voice, something he’d never let her hear before, though he’d always felt it. He’d been so damn proud that she’d not only triumphed over Jabril’s designs against her, but that she’d made him pay the ultimate price. Raphael only wished he could have been there, could have seen the shock in Jabril’s eyes at the realization he’d been bested not simply by a human, but by a woman.

Aden bowed his head slightly, a sign of both acknowledgment and respect. “I meant no offense, my lord.”

“Of course you did,” Raphael scoffed. “But your offense was against Cynthia, not me. And make no mistake, you won’t be given a chance to do it again.”

Aden dipped his head a second time. “My apologies, Ms. Leighton,” he said politely enough, but he continued to stare at Cyn, studying her curiously. Raphael frowned and exerted a tiny bit of his will, compelling the other vampire’s sight upward, away from Cyn, until it collided with Raphael’s own cold gaze. He held it there just long enough to make his point, long enough that Aden was forced to acknowledge Raphael’s unbreakable control.

Raphael released him. “Do you still believe this is Magda’s doing?” he asked casually, as if they hadn’t just clashed in a test of wills.

“I do, my lord,” Aden responded, demonstrating his willingness to accept Raphael’s lead and move on to urgent matters. “Lucas knows her better, but this latest attack—all of the attacks thus far—are consistent with what I know of her. She prefers to act from the shadows, sending others to do her work.”

“I bet that driver was human,” Cyn commented, proving that while she was still angry, she was more interested in pursuing the source of the attacks than in killing Aden. For now, anyway.

Raphael gave her a final hug and then released her.

“Why do you say that?” Aden asked, and Raphael could hear nothing but sincere curiosity in his voice. Cyn apparently had some lingering doubt about that sincerity, because she waited a moment before answering.

“Observation,” she said finally. “He had the headlights on at the end—when he was really speeding up—and you guys never need them. For another, he was scared to death, gripping that steering wheel for dear life and staring straight ahead, as if he was under a compulsion, unable to break away even if he’d wanted to. And, frankly, he died too easily. I’m certain it was the gunfire that killed him, not the explosion. And I don’t think a vamp would have died from even my special ammo at that distance.”

“Special ammo?” Aden asked curiously.

“147 grain Hydra-Shok,” Cyn informed him. “Small hole going in, really big hole coming out. I call them my vamp killer rounds,” she added, and Raphael could hear the quiet warning in her voice, before she added, “But you guys are tough. At that distance and with the truck moving so fast … I don’t think it would have killed a vampire.”

“Perhaps,” Aden allowed.

“I’ll tell you what, if the sun comes up and there’s no bloody bits lying about? If there’s nothing but ash?” Cyn said with a shrug. “Then we’ll know for sure.” She turned to Raphael. “In the meantime, I know time is short until sunrise, but Kathryn and I—” She glanced over and caught Kathryn’s nod of agreement. “—need to check out the scene before we leave. The driver’s body—what’s left of it—will attract animals, and they could drag away evidence. It’d be ideal to store the body somewhere, but I’m not eager to tote it around, and I doubt Lucas wants to store it in here.”