Craved: A Vampire Syndicate Paranormal Romance (The Vampire Syndicate Book 2) Read online

  Craved

  The Vampire Syndicate

  Rebecca Rivard

  Wild Hearts Press

  Contents

  The Vampire Syndicate Romance Series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Also by Rebecca Rivard

  About Rebecca Rivard

  The Vampire Syndicate Romance Series

  They call us the Dark Angels: Gabriel, Zaquiel and Rafael.

  We’re brothers. Princes. Billionaires.

  The richer-than-sin heirs to one of the world’s most powerful vampire Syndicates.

  But we’re not vampires, we’re dhampirs. Half-human, half-vampire, with panty-melting good looks.

  The media love us.

  Vampires hate us.

  And Slayers, Inc. will do anything to take us down.

  Pursued (Gabriel)

  Craved (Rafael)

  Taken (Zaquiel)

  Want to be the first to hear about Rebecca Rivard’s vampire romances and other steamy paranormal books?

  Sign up for her newsletter at her website (rebeccarivard.com) or at this link:

  http://www.subscribepage.com/i6x3j1

  1

  ZOE

  TWO YEARS EARLIER

  I exited the limo, squared my shoulders.

  Bold. Take charge.

  The moon was a hazy crescent in the indigo sky. Montreal’s downtown was alive with humans enjoying the summer night. They carved a cautious path around me like minnows avoiding a shark.

  The Tremblay Ice Princess was recognized everywhere.

  I entered the chic little hotel, my bodyguard at my heels. The lobby was all wood and steel, the walls charcoal gray. My strappy red high heels tapped an excited, this-is-really-happening rhythm on the polished maple floor.

  “Mademoiselle Zoe.” The night manager’s eyes widened. He hurried around the desk. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. We don’t have a record of your reservation. But don’t worry, we have a lovely suite—”

  “I’m here to see a guest.” My tone said that was all the information he’d get from me.

  “Very good.” He jerked his chin at his assistant, who hurried to call an elevator.

  “Wait here,” I told the bodyguard.

  Jean-Michel had been with my mother Victorine from the beginning, one of the vampires who’d come with her from France to found the Tremblay Syndicate. The wily old Frenchman was now a top soldier, slim, elegant and lethal as the silver stiletto strapped to my thigh.

  He moved closer. “You’re sure about this?” he asked in an undertone.

  I stifled a sigh.

  Jean-Michel did not agree with this midnight visit to Rafe Kral’s penthouse. Not that I’d told him why I was there, but you can’t hide much from a man who’s guarded you since you were in diapers. I might be twenty-four, but to a vampire Jean-Michel’s age, I was a half-filled page in a tediously long novel.

  I stared at the elevator’s floor indicator light, willing it to move. But it appeared stuck on the fifth floor.

  “Kral isn’t going to attack me in the heart of Tremblay territory.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  I set my jaw. “Is it so hard to believe he likes me?”

  “Of course not. But he’s Karoly Kral’s youngest son. He’s been raised to believe the Tremblays are the enemy. Just because your mother and Karoly signed a treaty to end the blood feud doesn’t change that. And now, he’s in town to negotiate a joint venture with us. He has everything to win by seducing you.”

  I shook my head. I was saved from answering when the elevator doors opened—finally—and a human couple emerged, dressed for a night out and so wrapped up in each other they nearly bumped into me.

  Jean-Michel moved to block them. “Watch your step.”

  The woman looked at me and whitened. She elbowed the man.

  “C’est la Princesse Zoe,” she said in a stage whisper that I didn’t even have to be a vampire to hear.

  “Désolé,” said her companion. “We are truly sorry.” He curved a protective arm around the woman and hurried her out of the hotel.

  I stepped inside the elevator and pressed the button for the ninth floor. I turned to face Jean-Michel, whom I’d instructed to stay in the lobby.

  He folded his arms over his chest. “Damn it, Zoe. He’s using you."

  I narrowed my eyes. The old vampire might be the closest thing to a father I had, but when all was said and done, he was my bodyguard, not my conscience.

  “Maybe,” I replied. “Or maybe I’m using him.”

  The doors slid shut, blocking his disapproving frown. My breath came out in a whoosh. I raised my hands and shimmied in a happy little dance that would’ve shocked Jean-Michel.

  Zoe Tremblay didn’t do human emotions. I was the Ice Princess, the cool, controlled and marginally-less-vicious version of my mother.

  Who was on her way to get naked with the son of my mother’s bitterest rival.

  The floors to the penthouse ticked past. In the elevator’s stainless-steel doors, my face seemed all eyes except for a slash of red lipstick. The flirty little black dress showed off my toned arms and legs, and my hair was in a sleek dark knot at the base of my neck, exposing a tasteful amount of throat.

  I smoothed my hands down my skirt. I knew I was beautiful. I was a vampire, after all.

  But Rafe Kral had his pick of the sexiest women on the globe, vampire or human. Everyone wanted a piece of him and his two older brothers. The dhampir sons of a vampire father and human mother, they were nicknamed the Kral Dark Angels, the supernatural world’s heartthrobs. They even had their own hashtag.

  Rafe was the youngest. The charmer. The cocky, bad-boy Angel that men wanted to be—and women just wanted. To a man like that, my vampire beauty was nothing special.

  The elevator stopped. I swallowed over the golf-ball-size lump that had lodged itself in my throat somewhere between the first and ninth floors.

  You can do this.

  Bold. Take charge.

  The wood penthouse door was reinforced with silver to repel vampires. I rapped on the doorjamb so the silver wouldn’t burn my knuckles.

  Footsteps sounded. I straightened my spine. The door opened, and Rafe’s lean, powerful frame filled the doorway. Behind him, tiny lights glimmered in the penthouse’s deep blue ceiling so that he appeared silhouetted against a starry night sky.

  My breath snagged.

  He was so…much. A god of a man with inky black hair that curled around the kind of face you see on the cover of men’s magazines, and a body that was all wild, wolflike grace beneath a soft white sweater and jeans.

  “You came.” His cheek creased in the lopsided grin that had launched a fan club devoted to his smiles.

  My stomach lurched.

&nb
sp; That grin promised something hot, forbidden, all-consuming. Something I craved with every cell of my being.

  I smiled slowly back. “Invite me in, Rafe.” A tongue-in-cheek poke at human superstitions, because vampires don’t wait for an invitation.

  His fingers closed around my arm. He drew me into the penthouse foyer. Our bodies brushed. An electric jolt shot to my core, and just like that, I was wet for him.

  As a dhampir, his senses were as sharp as mine. His nostrils flared and something dark and a little dangerous ignited in his eyes.

  He closed the door and pulled me up against him. I stumbled in the high heels, but instead of steadying me, he let me fall into him, my breasts against his chest.

  I slanted him a look from beneath my lashes. “Well, hello to you, too.”

  His lips came down on mine. His tongue drove into my mouth with a hunger that awed and excited me. He tasted of wine and something primal, male.

  I moaned and buried my fingers in his hair, scraping my fingernails down his nape.

  An approving growl. “You want me,” he said against my mouth. “Say it.”

  “Mm.” I nibbled on his lower lip.

  “Say it.” He lifted his head and stared down at me, his eyes so dark, they were almost black, like strong espresso. “Say you came here tonight because you want to be fucked.”

  I moistened my lips, trying to get my bearings. I was new to this. I hadn’t expected games…or whatever this was. When I’d pictured us having sex—and I’d been thinking of it a lot in the two weeks since we’d met—I’d pictured sweet, hazy, romantic. Wine and low music and a soft bed, not this hard wall of masculinity pushing me up against the wall and kissing me senseless.

  “Say it, Zoe.” He kissed his way down the side of my throat, nipped my earlobe.

  Heat spiraled through me. My mind was still catching up, but my body was definitely on board. My lace panties were soaked; my breasts heavy, sensitive.

  He touched his teeth to my throat. Not biting. His fangs hadn’t lengthened. But it was a threat just the same.

  This wasn’t a game to him.

  The threat wasn’t physical, not in the sense that I was in any danger. But he was trying to dominate me.

  And I liked it, more than I should’ve. I was the vampire, the powerful pureblood. But my knees felt wobbly, my insides like warm, sweet honey.

  My head fell back against the wall. “Yes,” I rasped.

  “Yes, what?” he said against my throat.

  “Yes, I want you.”

  He gave a hum of approval and bit the cord of my neck. Just hard enough.

  Oh, yeah. I dug my nails into his shoulders.

  His fingers closed on the straps of my dress. He jerked them down, baring my breasts and trapping my arms against my sides.

  The only thing covering my upper body was a sheer red bra with a delicate lace trim that matched my panties. He stared at my breasts with that hot, hungry look. Beneath the filmy material, the tips hardened.

  I curled my fingers into my palms, itching to cover myself. Vampires are naturally lean, but the women still have sex-kitten bodies. Not me. I was all angles and planes.

  But because I wanted to cover myself, I didn’t. Instead, I stared back. Daring Rafe to be disappointed.

  He didn’t even notice. His focus was all for my slight curves.

  “Damn,” he breathed, cupping my breasts through the bra. “You’re beautiful.”

  I made a small sound of disbelief. “No, I’m not,” I said, then winced.

  Great, Zoe. Why don’t you point out your other flaws, too, like your knobby knees and your pointed chin?

  “Perfect.” He rolled my nipples between his thumbs and first fingers. “They’re perfect.” His eyes met mine. “You’re perfect.”

  He lowered his mouth to give each furled point a hard suck through the bra. I squirmed against the wall—and let myself believe, just a little.

  Because maybe to this man, I was perfect. Not Victorine Tremblay’s too young, too soft, never-quite-enough daughter.

  His fingers were on my back now. The bra came undone, and he pushed it out of his way so he could keep kissing and licking my breasts.

  I was desperate to touch him. I wriggled my arms free and sank my fingers into his silky curls.

  His mouth continued down my abdomen until he was kneeling on the floor. Catching my skirt in both hands, he pushed it up to my waist—and blinked at the stiletto strapped to my thigh.

  “Kinda old school.” Rafe caressed my leg over the thin nylon sheath. “I like it. I bet you know how to use it, too.”

  “Of course,” I said, insulted.

  “You don’t need this with me.” His fingers went to one of the straps holding the sheath in place. He glanced up, giving me a chance to object.

  I didn’t say anything. It was a test, and we both knew it.

  Trust was the most precious commodity in our world.

  Still holding my gaze, he released my skirt to remove the sheath and set it on the floor.

  I’d never felt so naked, even with the skirt covering my thighs again. The hair on the backs of my arms raised, and my heart sped up to an almost human rate.

  Boom…boom…boom.

  I reminded myself that the blood feud had been over for nearly a decade. Things had progressed to the point where Victorine was considering a joint venture with the Kral Syndicate—a casino on the Canada/United States border—the joint venture that Rafe was in Montreal to negotiate.

  But that didn’t stop me from recalling the feud’s height, when Kral assassins had made multiple attempts on my life.

  “Relax.” He lifted my skirt again, hands warm against my hips.

  His breath sucked in. The lace panties didn’t conceal much more than my bra. He eyed my mound with the same intent scrutiny he’d given my breasts. Heat licked up my spine, like he was already touching me.

  He touched his mouth to the spot right over my clit and blew, a hot stream of air that nearly made me jump out of my skin.

  My thighs tensed. I brought my hands back to his head. “More. Right there.”

  “You like that?” He waited for my eager nod before doing it again. He followed that by tonguing and kissing my clit through the panties.

  A big finger slid beneath the gusset and inside my sex. “You’re so wet. So ready for me.”

  “Mm.” I tried to pull him closer, but he resisted.

  He’d been holding up my dress with his free hand, but now he looked up. “Hold up your skirt. And don’t let go.”

  When I obeyed, he made a guttural sound of approval. “Damn, Zoe. You look fucking sexy.”

  I swallowed. I felt so vulnerable, standing there with my legs spread and skirt bunched up around my waist. But I also liked how much Rafe seemed to like it.

  Then I forgot everything but him as he pressed another kiss to my swollen, sensitized flesh. Inside my sex, his finger did wonderful, wicked things.

  My pelvis rocked up. I moaned and dug my fingers into the thin material of my skirt. “So good…so good.” I was speaking in French now. “Si bon, si bon.”

  “Take it, sugar.” He released me long enough to drag the panties down my legs. I lifted one foot so he could pull them off. Before I could kick them off the other foot, his hot mouth was on me, the panties still hanging around one ankle.

  In between kisses and licks, Rafe kept talking. Sexy, dirty talk that made my whole body tighten.

  “Gods, I love how you taste. So…perfect. Like a good girl gone bad. I’m going to do this until you come, and then you’re going to beg me to bury myself deep inside you so you can come that way, too.”

  He carefully inserted a second finger inside me, stroking my inner walls. Heat surged up my spine, sparked behind my eyelids.

  “Beg me, Zoe. Tell me you want more.”

  I was so wet, so primed for him. The whole scene was so erotic. Me wanting to touch him but not being able to because I was holding up my skirt. The wall against my back
. The man kneeling at my feet but clearly in total control.

  “Please. More. I—”

  Was that broken voice mine?

  Then Rafe did something with his tongue that had me groaning. It was too much sensation. I tried to catch my breath. Tried to slow down, to savor every delicious feeling.

  “Come for me,” he said, and nipped my tender, over-stimulated clit.

  Sparks exploded behind my eyes. My inner muscles clamped around his finger. I moaned his name and shot over the edge.

  My legs felt as unsteady as a toddler’s. I slid down the wall, but Rafe caught me and wrapped an arm around my hips, keeping me where I was.

  He gave a few easy licks, giving me time to recover, before removing his fingers from me. He sucked them clean with a wicked look up at me.

  My chest heaved. I regained enough strength to stand on my own. “That was—"

  “Shh.” He shaped my hips and thighs with his hands. Teased my calves with his fingertips. Slid a finger into my left sandal to caress my instep. “Don’t talk. Just enjoy.”

  He kissed his way up my body until we were face to face again. “Now,” he said against my lips, “let’s get this dress off you.”

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  It took me a few seconds to realize that this time, it wasn’t my heart that was pounding, it was the door. The knob rattled.

  “Zoe?” said Jean-Michel, low and urgent. “Victorine’s here. In the hotel.”

  My stomach dropped.

  Rafe bit out a curse.

  “Coming.” I released my skirt and dragged the dress straps up over my shoulders, but I’d forgotten about my bra. I swore and fumbled to disentangle it from my bodice.