Relentless_A Cyn and Raphael Novella Read online

  Table of Contents

  Praise for D. B. Reynolds’s Vampires in America . . .

  D. B. Reynolds Vampires in America

  Relentless

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  Please visit these websites for more information about D.B. Reynolds

  About the Author

  Praise for D. B. Reynolds’s

  Vampires in America . . .

  TOP PICK! 4-1/2 Stars. “This is a power read, and fans will not be disappointed in the latest installment of Reynolds’s tantalizing series.”

  —RT Book Reviews on LUCIFER

  “Captivating and brimming with brilliance, CHRISTIAN is yet another defining addition to the ever-evolving world of Vampires in America created by D. B. Reynolds.”

  —KT Book Reviews

  “Did I mention that the sizzling sex factor in this book is reaching the combustible stage? It is a wonder my Kindle didn’t burn up.”

  —La Deetda Reads on DECEPTION

  “D. B. Reynolds has outdone herself with this exhilarating story; and VINCENT is a worthy addition to Reynolds’s always excellent Vampires in America series.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Terrific writing, strong characters and world building, excellent storylines all help make Vampires in America a must read. Aden is one of the best so far.” A TOP BOOK OF THE YEAR!

  —On Top Down Under Book Reviews

  “In one of the most compelling vampire books I’ve read in a while, Reynolds blends an excellent mix of paranormal elements, suspense and combustible attraction.”

  —RT Book Reviews on LUCAS

  “Move over Raphael, there’s a new Lord in town.”

  —Bitten by Paranormal Romance on JABRIL

  D. B. Reynolds

  Vampires in America

  Raphael

  Jabril

  Rajmund

  Sophia

  Duncan

  Lucas

  Aden

  Vincent

  Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars

  Deception

  Christian

  Lucifer

  The Cyn and Raphael Novellas

  Betrayed

  Hunted

  Unforgiven

  Compelled

  Relentless

  The Stone Warriors

  The Stone Warriors: Damian

  The Stone Warriors: Kato

  Relentless

  by

  D. B. Reynolds

  ImaJinn Books

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  ImaJinn Books

  PO BOX 300921

  Memphis, TN 38130

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-825-7

  ImaJinn Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

  Copyright © 2017 by D. B. Reynolds

  Published in the United States of America.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  ImaJinn Books was founded by Linda Kichline.

  We at ImaJinn Books enjoy hearing from readers. Visit our websites

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  Cover design: Debra Dixon

  Interior design: Hank Smith

  Photo/Art credits:

  Couple (manipulated) © Konradbak | Dreamstime.com

  :Mref:01:

  Prologue

  Nice, France—two months earlier

  “THE FUCKING German blew it.” Laurent Pierre picked up an exquisite Chinese vase and threw it across the room where it hit the wall and smashed into a thousand tiny pieces. That vase was worth around 9000 Euros, $10,000 US. It was one of a matched pair. Not anymore, he thought viciously. There was a certain satisfaction in destroying some of Mathilde’s fucking antiques. Sure, he was her child, and he’d damn well destroy the vampire who’d killed her. But that didn’t mean he had to preserve every damn vase in the place. It was time for him to put his own stamp on this territory, time to establish himself as a power to be reckoned with.

  “Berkhard didn’t do enough recon,” his lieutenant, Jourdain, commented, ignoring the shattered porcelain. He was Laurent’s oldest child, had been with him for over a hundred years, and he knew that his Sire’s tendency to vent his anger by breaking things was nothing to worry about. Laurent had a temper, but he was a good lord. Better than Mathilde. He protected his vampires. He didn’t suck them dry and throw them away. “He underestimated Sophia’s power,” he added, referring to Berkhard of Germany’s recent attempt to seize the Canadian lord’s territory.

  “Hell, it wasn’t only Berkhard,” Laurent conceded, leaning back in his chair with a resigned sign. “Mathilde and Hubert before him . . . they all made the same mistake. It wasn’t only Sophia they underestimated. It was all the North American vamps. Fucking Raphael has brought them into a real alliance. You go after one, and you take on them all.”

  Jourdain nodded slowly. “That’s it, then? We leave them alone, they leave us alone?”

  “Hell, no.” Laurent glanced up to see his lieutenant’s puzzled frown. “I mean, yeah, you know me. I have zero interest in invading North America. I’m perfectly happy killing off my neighbors right here in Europe and stealing their territories. But . . . damn it, Jourdain. What if someday they decide that defending their continent isn’t enough? Or maybe they simply want more territory. A fucking world empire. What if they bring the war to us?”

  “You think if we kill Raphael, they’ll go back to squabbling with each other.” Jourdain said it as a statement, not a question.

  “Exactly. He’s the power behind the North American alliance. He’s also the fucker who killed Mathilde. The crazy bitch was my Sire. I can’t let that go. I kill him, and I get two for one. Stop the threat, and avenge my Sire at the same time.”

  “So, should I pack for California?”

  “Fuck, no. I’m not taking on North America. I’m just going to kill the one vampire who makes them tick. Get Tristan in here. It’s time for Mathilde’s pet assassin to earn his keep.”

  Chapter One

  Malibu, CA—present day

  LENNY PULLED the silicon plugs from his ears as he started down the back hallway. It was fucking noisy out in the blood house’s huge main room. Between the thumping music, the dull roar of conversation, and the screams and grunts of couples having sex on the dark dance floor and in even darker corners . . . Was it a bad sign that it bothered him? Was he getting old? Sure, vampires didn’t age physically, but the thoughts and feelings of an intelligent man . . . those had to change over time, didn’t they? Maybe it was time for him to ask Raphael for a new job assignment. He pursed his lips in thought, contemplating the kind of job
he might like as he walked his usual round of the private rooms. It was still busy, despite the late hour, every room occupied behind sound-proofed walls and doors that muted all but the most fervent screams of ecstasy. He passed one of his managers, who gave him a respectful nod.

  “Full up tonight, Len,” the vampire said. “Upstairs, too.”

  Lenny nodded. “Winter tourists,” he commented. “We get them every year.”

  His manager grinned. “Nobody likes frozen blood.”

  Lenny chuckled and kept going, taking the back stairs to avoid the noise out front. He’d just reached the top floor, one foot still on the last stair, when the first shots rang out.

  Santa Monica, CA

  ZOYA HELD HER young man’s hand as they walked through the parking garage after the movie. He was not really her young man. It was only their second date. But he was handsome and vital, and he didn’t care that she was a vampire. She was beginning to suspect that it was her vampire nature which had attracted him to her. She was young enough to believe in true love, young enough to still hope to find it for herself. She would have preferred to be wanted for something other than her bite, but all great love stories started somewhere.

  “Did you like the movie?” he asked, dropping her hand and pulling her close with an arm over her shoulders.

  She wrinkled her nose. “It was violent, but the love story was nice.”

  He laughed. Such an appealing sound. He really was a handsome man.

  “They do that on purpose, you know. Throw a love story in there for the women, to increase the take at the box office.”

  Zoya tilted her head curiously. She’d only been in this country two years, and American colloquialisms still confused her sometimes. Box office? She pondered asking him what it meant but decided to look it up for herself later. She didn’t want him to think she was stupid. She was a vampire, after all. A better version of humanity, according to the older vamps on Raphael’s estate.

  She looked up at him. “Shall we—?”

  The first shot pierced her heart, the second a centimeter from the first. She was already dead when the third shot hit, already sliding from under her young man’s arm. Too young to dust upon death, she fell to the cold concrete floor, while her young man hid behind a pillar and dialed 911.

  Beverly Hills, CA

  “CAN WE GO home now?” Maleko Turner—Mal to his friends and the beautiful woman walking next to him—struggled to keep his voice even, to sound like the homicide cop he’d been and the tough-as-nails security specialist he currently was, instead of the footsore lover who just wanted to go home, fuck his woman, and sleep for eight hours.

  “In a hurry, big guy?” Elke gazed up at him with deceptively innocent blue eyes, her lashes fluttering.

  He didn’t fall for it. She was a century-old vampire and member of Raphael’s inner security team. What spoke even more to her toughness was that Raphael trusted Elke to safeguard his mate, Cynthia. That vampire loved his woman. If anything happened to her on Elke’s watch, Elke’d better die right alongside her, because Raphael would kill her.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” he said bluntly, answering Elke’s teasing question with the truth. “This is my day off. I want to spend it with you, not with you and a few hundred other shoppers.”

  Elke stared up at him, seeming startled by his announcement. She still had trouble sometimes, seeing herself as a desirable and sexy woman. She was a female vampire in a world of males, and she’d chosen to compete on their terms, becoming a warrior instead of an accountant, or a lawyer, or any number of socially acceptable roles. The males she worked with acknowledged her skills and strength, but the corollary was that they treated her as one of the guys, so to speak. They saw her as an asset, not a woman. And she’d been with Raphael’s security team a very long time.

  “Babe,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “Let me be clear. I want to go home, strip you naked, and fuck you ‘til you scream.”

  Her pale cheeks pinked with embarrassment, making her eyes seem even bluer. “Don’t be shy, Mal,” she murmured, striving for cool. “Tell me what you really want.”

  He grinned and bent his head to kiss her, but saw someone move in the shadows.

  If the shooter had waited ten seconds more, he could have killed them both.

  Chicago, Illinois

  “GENTLEMEN,” Raphael said. “And ladies,” he amended, glancing at Sophia and at Rajmund’s lieutenant, Emelie. He looked around the room, drawing the attention of every lord and lieutenant, before continuing. “Fuck this,” he said sharply. “No more waiting for the next invader from Europe. It’s time for us to take the war to them.” He cast his gaze around the room one more time, then sat back, prepared to listen. He’d already decided to go after the Europeans, with or without his North American allies. But it would be easier with them. Besides, these were powerful, intelligent vampires. He’d be a fool to ignore what they had to say. Especially since, if they decided to fight at his side, their people were just as likely to die as his.

  Duncan, who was his former lieutenant and now Lord of the Capital Territory, was the first to speak, nodding his agreement with Raphael’s pronouncement. “It makes sense. If we do nothing but sit around, waiting for the next attack, we look weak. And there will be another attack, and another one after that. They won’t succeed, but more vampires will die needlessly. That’s reason enough, but humans will inevitably be killed in the crossfire, and we don’t need that kind of exposure.” Duncan spoke quietly, but the others paid attention. He was their liaison to the human government. If anyone understood human politics, it was Duncan. He also happened to be closer to Raphael than any other vampire. Except possibly one.

  “Going after them at home sounds good to me. I never did like fucking Europeans,” Lucas agreed. He was sitting next to Raphael, slouched in his chair as always, looking every bit the lazy, indolent creature he pretended to be. It was all an act. Lucas ran his territory like the finest clockwork, and his skills on the battlefield were second to none. He bathed in blood when necessary, and didn’t mind the smell. He was also Raphael’s first child, the first vampire he’d ever created, and he’d been with him for years before that. Raphael understood Lucas’s hatred of all things European. There were good reasons for it. But he couldn’t let it drive this decision.

  “Old hatreds burn hot,” Christian agreed. “But I broke away from Europe once. I’m not going to let them determine my fate now. I’m more than happy to spill European blood. But we’re going to need a damn good strategy.” His glance at Lucas was almost apologetic. Christian had only ruled the South for a few months, but he and Lucas had forged a friendship of sorts. Driven initially by their shared border, they’d discovered a lot more than that in common, including a love of the battlefield and a taste for their enemy’s blood. As the most recent arrival from Europe, he probably knew the situation there better than any of them.

  “Well, there’s nothing old about my hatred,” Sophia responded. “I lost a lot of people against Berkhard last month, and there were plenty of human casualties, too,” she added with a nod in Duncan’s direction. “If you want to stop the bloodshed, we need to stop the constant attacks. If that means killing them where they live, I’m all for it.”

  Lucas shifted restlessly, and Raphael knew if he looked over, he’d see him rolling his eyes. Lucas was very human at times. Unfortunately, his humanity seemed stuck in the teenage years.

  “I say we start with Britain,” Rajmund suggested. He was Lord of the Northeast Territory, with his headquarters in New York City. “Britain’s an island, which means it has clear boundaries, and there could be no easy reinforcement from friends and allies.”

  “European vampires don’t have friends or allies,” Christian commented. “You want ancient hatreds? The European vamps have raised it to an art form. There’ll be no help coming from th
at side. If anything, we’ll have to worry about incursions from vampires trying to take advantage of our success.”

  “If we’re aiming for an island, why not Ireland?” Lucas said. “I own ancestral lands there, thanks to my bastard of a grandfather. My vampires pay lip service to the Lord of Ireland, but their true loyalty is to me. That gives us a base of operations with allies already in place. And I wouldn’t mind finally claiming what’s rightfully mine.”

  “I’ve no ancestral lands in Ireland, or anywhere else,” Vincent said, chuckling. “But the idea of a foothold makes sense. We all know how much vampires hate crossing water, so why not an island?”

  “Well, I’m loathe to help Lucas claim his lordship—his head is big enough already—but I support Ireland as a first target,” Aden agreed, with the ease of old friends. “Lucas’s allies would give us a good chance of success, and once Ireland is ours, we could use it as a base. Bastien,” he said, addressing his lieutenant, “you’ve more military experience than I do. What do you think?”

  Bastien was slow to respond, clearly pondering the question from all sides, which Raphael found refreshing. Vampire Lords tended to default to their baser natures, which wasn’t always conducive to logical thinking. Bastien had been an officer in the French Foreign Legion when Aden had met him and made him Vampire, and he still had a strong military mindset.

  “I think a vampire can’t invade successfully from a few thousand miles across the ocean,” Bastien said finally. “Vampire battles aren’t fought over months or years with millions of soldiers on field after field. Our battlefields are personal, mostly one on one, with as few as ten fighters helping to hold the line. We’d have to spend sixteen hours flying to Germany through daylight, and then fight our first battle within hours of landing. Less, if they were waiting for us. It might work once or twice, but soon enough the Europeans would be shooting our planes out of the sky. I’m not saying it has to be Ireland, but we need a closer base, and Ireland would do.”