Bond of Blood Read online

  But she managed to look him in the eyes and speak logically. "Now do you believe I choose you?"

  "Sí, Grania, I believe you," he gritted out, his hands coming to her hips at last. "Now will you finish this before we both go insane?"

  "Damn right I will." She rose up and sank down hard, freely enjoying herself. She braced herself on Rafael's chest, sinking her fingers into him. But it wasn't quite right for what she wanted. She wriggled and Rafael's strong hands helped her.

  Two strokes later, she was drilling the perfect pleasure point with every rise and fall, while the wet slaps of their bodies were a strong counterpoint to the fountains' music from outside. Her skin was flushed, tight and aching, as if it would burst unless the drumming pulse in her blood and bones was satisfied. Everything in the world narrowed down to the man under her, united to her through his great dark eyes, hands of steel, and fiery cock.

  The pulses built higher and higher in her bones until she abandoned herself to her climax. Her fingernails drew blood from Rafael's chest, making his head snap back in pleasure. Lightning fast, he sliced open the great vein at his throat and pulled her down.

  His blood filled her mouth, just as the first orgasmic pulse tore through her. The rich coppery taste was intoxicating, heightening her orgasm, until her senses exploded. Waves of sensation pounded up her spine as she greedily gulped his blood, while stars shattered before her eyes and his come filled her. She was deaf to everything but the sound of his pulse, drowning out the beat of her heart. Ecstasy tore her apart, as she lost consciousness in the safety of Rafael's arms.

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  "This should only take a minute, Emilio." Grania entered her little bungalow, past the ever-wary bodyguard who'd just declared it safe. "I just have to grab a couple of books before we go to the raptor center."

  "Yes, ma'am. But I wish we had more time to prepare than this."

  Grania sighed. "Yeah, Bob's call moving the time up did throw everything out off. Worse, Houston's a nocturnal bird so he'll be extra grumpy being woken up so early."

  "Could be worse. At least we can figure that an ad hoc meeting like this will throw off the bad guys too." He swept the room with yet another of those all-encompassing stares, which assessed every possible hiding place for an enemy.

  "We'll both still be a little skittish, especially with Don Rafael at the ranch," Grania agreed ruefully. He'd needed to phone Jean-Marie, now in New Orleans, about something which Rafael, that over-protective male chauvinist, wouldn't tell her. Now only compañeros were around to protect her, not vampiros.

  She turned for the bookcase and her eyes met Tom McLean's, in his photograph as a deputy sheriff. His eyes caught and held hers, making him look alive.

  A draft of cold air feathered across her cheek, as if he was talking to her. She shivered, her hands opening and closing. "What if Beau decides to break his usual pattern and do something while the sun's still out…"

  "You could be in serious trouble, ma'am," Emilio agreed, eyeing her with interest.

  "Yeah, I could be—but I'll fight it as hard as I can, to stall until Rafael can come." She sighed. "I wish I could stay in today. That's not possible, but at least I can arm myself with something."

  By the time the big Mercedes turned down the road leading to the raptor center, Grania was almost wishing she hadn't dressed for a hunting trip with Tom. Cowboy shirt, jeans, and high boots were fine; they were what she'd usually wear to work in a flight cage, given the frequent mud. Her heavy twill jacket was also fairly typical attire, since it provided excellent protection from irritated raptors.

  She adjusted her jacket's cuffs again. She'd love to have her sawed-off shotgun or her big Colt .45 but her jacket wasn't long enough to completely hide them from Houston.

  "Would you like to take the jacket off, Dr. O'Malley?" Emilio offered. "Don Rafael says—"

  She raised an eyebrow, just as if he was a first-year vet school student. "That our enemies never come out in daylight?"

  "Even if they do, we've got a full contingent here. You should be safe." At least he was being direct with her now, rather than formally polite and noncommittal as he'd always been before.

  Grania shrugged, half smiling. "I worked my way through college by surveying owls in ecosystems where they've never been counted before. Many such places aren't very comfortable, either because of the weather or the two-legged residents. I've carried a knife up my sleeve before. The jacket's also handy, even if it's hotter than hell, because it protects me from the owls' talons."

  Emilio frowned. "How big are they?"

  "A great horned owl has the largest claws of anything in North America except eagles," she answered dryly.

  He winced, clearly assessing her jacket from a totally different outlook.

  "They're also very aggressive, with a nickname of winged tigers. As my boss says, you can usually tell how a great horned is feeling by how eagerly he tries to kill you."

  He chuckled at the old veterinary joke. "If they're that dangerous, then I should be in the flight cage with you."

  She snorted. "And piss off Houston more? Hardly. You can stay outside and keep an eye on things from there. There's only one door so I'll be fine."

  They were silent for a few minutes, as the cars turned down the lane into the raptor center. A pickup headed toward them, moving at interstate speed on the rutted side road as it headed into the thunderstorm coming up from the west.

  Her head came up as she saw the truck's driver. "Ryan? What the hell?"

  The old Ford went past without slowing. She swiveled to watch it then settled back in her seat. "Crap. Hopefully, my vet tech left the raptor center for a really good reason." Not because the bad guys scared him off.

  Bob's old Suburban was parked in front of the raptor center, in one sign of normalcy. Otherwise, the center was empty, as she'd expected for the Sunday after the Fourth of July.

  But the alarm was off and the main building held no sign of him. They searched everywhere: the offices, the conference room, and the lab. Even the glass-walled barometric chamber that doubled as an operating room.

  Or rather, Emilio and his men did, while Grania waited, guarded by another pair of men. All of them, except her, had their guns out with the safeties off.

  At least there weren't any convalescents in the ICU, so she didn't have to coach them in how not to disturb birds.

  Still, she reset the electronic lock on the ICU, the best hiding space around. She was damned if any bad guys were going to take cover in her hospital.

  The last room was the prep kitchen, with its view of the pens holding the resident and convalescent birds. The smaller pens stood on legs to avoid snakes; while the larger ones were up to fifty feet wide. They were so widely spaced that men could easily hide amongst them.

  Beyond those pens lay the neatly paved path up the hill past the long, narrow flight cages. The farthest one was also the biggest, where she'd planned to show off Houston for Bob. The entire area was heavily wooded, in order to provide shade for the birds. Of course, the same trees could also provide cover for stalkers.

  "Should anyone else be here, other than you and Dr. Bob?" Emilio asked.

  "No. All the birds have been fed and exercised by now, so those volunteers and techs are gone. Only Bob and Ryan should be here, plus me."

  "But Ryan left."

  "Yeah." She tallied up the resident birds one more time. Every one of them was here; since it was a holiday weekend, they weren't traveling to teach people how wondrous and important raptors were. Like those of the convalescent birds, their pens were mostly made of wood, which would never stand up to a gunshot or an angry vampiro.

  "I'll get the gauntlets, net, and the crate. Then we can fetch Houston and go to the flight cage. We should see Bob along the way," she declared with more optimism than she felt. A walking, talking Bob, of course.

  Once outside, the birds proved to be uneasy, the rising wind ruffling their feathers as they shifted
from side to side or swooped between perches. A resident golden eagle was drumming its pen's wall with its beak, while a pair of western screech owls hooted fiercely. But thankfully, there were no major upheavals such as birds flinging themselves against the walls in a frenzy.

  The farthest, and largest, convalescent pen held Houston. Grania double-checked her jacket's buttons, making sure his sharp talons couldn't reach her skin, then pulled on the heavy leather gauntlets and safety glasses. "I'll catch Houston, Emilio. Then you bring the carrier in and hold it open for me to put him inside."

  There was a pause before he answered. "Yes, ma'am."

  She glanced over at him. "We'll both be fine. I've done this hundreds of time before."

  "Sure hope you're right. I just wouldn't want to face Don Rafael if anything goes wrong."

  Grania smiled in agreement.

  She slipped inside the pen, while Emilio and the other bodyguards kept watch, as wary as coyotes caught in the open. Overhead, Rafael's helicopter circled patiently, so high its usual aggressive buzz was muted to a distant rumble.

  Houston eyed her suspiciously from the top perch, leaning forward and spreading his wings. Grania raised an eyebrow at him.

  Houston hooted, emphasizing his unhappiness with the situation, the long, deep, resonant call echoing through the hills. Even for a great horned, he was a big owl, with a wingspan of over four feet and weighing almost five pounds. His huge yellow eyes watched her narrowly over his great beak.

  Then he swooped across the cage to attack her.

  "Look out, Dr. O'Malley!" Emilio shouted.

  Grania watched Houston narrowly, timing his move. At exactly the right moment, she whipped up the great bird net and caught him, then flipped it onto the ground, trapping him.

  He screeched furiously, no doubt describing her ancestry in very unflattering terms. He flopped furiously back and forth under the net. Finally he managed to roll onto his back and put his deadly talons up to where they could attack her as soon as she approached him. They were black and almost as long as her hands, sharp and strong enough to kill most prey with one stab.

  She crouched down warily and watched for her opportunity. When it came, she quickly grabbed his feet with one gloved hand, thereby controlling his talons—and causing him to emit a bloodcurdling shriek. Having thus mastered his most deadly weapon, she soon managed to slide her other hand up his back and pin his head, thus controlling his beak.

  "Emilio? You can come in now."

  A pause. She glanced at the door. Emilio was holstering his gun.

  The previously rock-steady Navy SEAL slowly unlatched the door, slightly shamefaced. "If you'd seen the look in his eyes when he dived on you, ma'am, with those sharp claws pointing at your face…"

  He came inside, eyeing Houston like a ticking time bomb.

  Grania concealed a smile. "That's okay, Emilio. It's mostly a matter of knowing how to behave around them. You'll do fine."

  A few minutes later, with Houston seething inside the carrier, Grania stretched. Experience had taught her that an easy capture of Houston was absolutely no predictor of his good behavior later.

  The biggest flight cage was hundreds of feet long, nestled just below the top of the hill and far enough away that gunshots fired here probably wouldn't injure any other flight cages. It was tall and lightly built, so that breezes could freely enter. Slats were woven into the sides, plus a lightweight roof above, to protect the birds from distraction. One door opened from the center, to reduce the opportunities for birds to escape.

  Thunder rolled in the distance. She glimpsed the rest of the bodyguards moving between the pens and the trees below, as they took up their posts.

  "Bob! Are you here? Bob!"

  No answer. No sound at all, except the wind in the trees and the unhappy birds.

  Grania's eyes met Emilio's. He held up his hand for patience, while the remaining bodyguards fanned out around the flight cage.

  "Clear." "Clear." "Clear!"

  Damn, she wished Rafael was here. Logic told her that the bodyguards were correct. But she'd have felt better if he was present to confirm it.

  Emilio opened the door for her. "I'll come with you."

  "Don't be crazy. Houston would rip your head open and the test would be a loss."

  He hesitated. "I can't let you out of my sight."

  "You can still see me through the slats and hear everything that goes on," she pointed out. "Besides, Bob will be here in another minute or two." I hope.

  Houston chose that moment to attack the crate, worrying at the bars with his beak. Emilio eyed the bird narrowly. "He gets worse than that?"

  She nodded. "He can rip your face open without trying. Honestly, I'm only afraid of Houston if you come inside."

  Emilio shook his head and held the door for her. "Okay, we'll play it your way. Just try to stay within sight of the door, where I can keep an eye on you."

  Grania tossed him a salute and wished once again she had more than a knife. She tried to laugh at herself for such fancies. Why would she need Tom's ninety-year-old guns, if she had all these trained pros with state-of-the-art weapons handy?

  She entered the flight cage, carefully carrying Houston in his crate. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood when a quick glance showed no sign of Bob. Maybe he was taking in the view from up above; there was a flat stretch there, almost large enough to take a helicopter.

  She took Houston out of the crate, hoping her boss would show up soon. He was, after all, notorious for never being late. The big owl hooted and snapped his beak angrily, then flew to the perch farthest from the door. In fact, for a nocturnal bird, he'd chosen almost the sunniest spot in the flight cage.

  She frowned, smoothing her gauntlets.

  The door opened. "Grania?"

  She glanced over her shoulder. "Bob?"

  Her boss smiled broadly at her, which was a very unusual expression for him. What the hell was he doing with all those mesquite and live oak leaves on him? Had he been crawling over the hillside behind the flight cage?

  Her skin crawled and she stopped moving toward him. "What happened to you, Bob? We didn't see you down at the offices."

  Strange; he wasn't wearing his safety glasses, which he always did in a flight cage. An appalling headache suddenly attacked her, just like the one Rafael had sent her in the park when she'd spied on him and Brynda.

  Bob grinned even more. "I decided to meet you up here."

  She backed up a step, closer to Houston, and tried to decide what to do next. Bob looked like himself but he really wasn't quite behaving normally.

  Then Emilio marched jerkily into the flight cage like a tin soldier. He closed, but didn't latch, the door. His eyes were furious and his mouth tight.

  Grania opened her mouth to scream.

  An instant later, she lay flat on her back in the leaves, with Bob lying diagonally across her and his hand wrapped around her throat.

  She spat in his face and fought to throw him off. But he was infinitely stronger than Bob had ever been. Vampiro strong, in fact.

  Finally, she exhausted herself and lay still under him, glaring. Emilio was still standing stiffly, his eyes alive with anger.

  Bob shimmered above her and changed into a handsome young man, with blond hair and blue eyes. He was just as beautiful and arrogant as Lucifer must have been. Her stomach plummeted into her boots.

  "Don't bother calling for your men, Dr. O'Malley. They're dying, except for this one."

  Damn him to hell!

  She fought back her temper. His hand loosened slightly, enough to let her whisper, "Good afternoon, Beau. Or should I say—Diego?"

  "So the fool's told you that much? Excellent, that will save me time."

  Save him time? The saving grace of anger flashed through Grania. She became preternaturally calm, as when she was standing in her operating room, fighting for an injured owl. Now only her nerves and skill could prevent injury to the helpless ones around her, like Emilio and his men, or th
e birds.

  "And you're also the man in the bookstore, who helped me find vampire books," she remarked, playing for time. Surely the bodyguards would notice something soon.

  If only Rafael were here…

  Ten miles away, in his well-guarded office, Rafael was speaking to Jean-Marie over an encrypted phone line. Suddenly ice formed in his veins; his fingers curled to slip a knife out of his sleeve.

  Grania was pinned to the ground in a cage. A rock dug into his shoulder blade—exactly as it did into hers.

  A link snapped fully into place between them, carrying her body's sensations as clearly as if she'd been wrapped in his arms.

  Time slowed to a stop, while his thoughts tumbled into new patterns.

  Madre de Dios, she was at the raptor center, miles away.

  This time he could not claim that he felt that rock, the roughness of her jeans, the hard protection of her boots, because of his telepathy opening a channel for her senses to walk through into his own. No vampiro's telepathy operated at so great a distance—only the conyugal bond could accomplish it, as Gray Wolf and Caleb had proven time and again.

  But it was too soon! shrieked his brain. He'd only known her, adorable as she was, for a month. Yes, he'd committed to her as his compañera. Yes, he wished she could live longer than a century or two—but not at the expense of her sanity. A month was too soon for the soul-deep trust and understanding needed to become cónyuges.

  Even the five years he'd cherished Blanche would have been barely enough to become cónyuges. And yet…

  Blanche and he had shared a strong bond. She'd known whenever he was wounded, although she didn't speak of it to him, lest she distract him. He'd known when she was in agony, such as when the twins were born. He'd been in Ciudad Real, leagues away from Toledo, when the first pangs jolted through him, an agony like nothing he'd ever felt before. He'd begged permission from the Infante Don Ferdinand to return to court and barely arrived in time for his son's birth.