by Aja James
She thought about taking liberties with him, quite daringly. Their close proximity in his bed was too good an opportunity to resist. And, too, Ramses seemed to bring out aspects of her personality she never knew existed.
Maybe a kiss on the mouth, a grope of his muscular ass, or even better, a bite on his corded throat.
She was so thirsty. He made her positively ravenous for a taste of him. Blood or cream, she’d take either, but she really craved both.
Alas, he always dashed her boldness when he opened his eyes to stare at her whenever she thought about making a move. And then he kept on staring, not saying anything, not doing anything.
So Eveline stared back like a ninny, holding her breath in anticipation.
But nothing ever happened!
He just looked his fill, unwound from around her, stretched that glorious, magnificent body (always sporting a King Kong boner that made Eveline drool like a leaky faucet) and disappeared into the en suite bathroom for his nightly shower.
What in Goddess’s name was she supposed to do with that? His lack of initiative was driving her crazy!
“I don’t know the Dark King well,” Ava was saying, bringing Eveline back to the conversation at hand, “but from what Ryu tells me, he never takes a female into his chambers. He always…entertains in the throne room.”
“And from what Devlin tells me,” Grace added, “Ramses hasn’t entertained other females since your arrival, Eveline. The last time he had a visitor, the woman experienced some kind of strange allergic reaction. Quite severe, I’m told. She ran out of here like her hair was on fire. Devlin’s words, not mine.”
Eveline sipped her chocolate, not meeting the other women’s eyes.
In hindsight, she wasn’t proud of the curse she put on that predatory hussy who tried to take advantage of her male. On the other hand, she’d do it again in a heartbeat, so she had no regrets.
“Eveline,” Ava needled, “what’s going on with you two?”
Eveline sighed and put her empty mug down on the coffee table.
“I don’t know. We shared…”
Her eyes darted to Annie, who seemed blissfully oblivious to the conversation around her.
“…a cataclysmic moment when we were away,” Eveline said, “if you know what I mean.”
“Do tell,” Clara scooted closer.
“Just a moment?” Ava smirked.
“An eternity,” Eveline intoned with an uncharacteristically mischievous waggle of brows. “The cataclysm went on for so long I lost complete track of time.”
Clara giggled, prompting, “And?”
“And nothing,” Eveline said glumly. “I think he’s the one for me. See these lovely Pure fangs that came in?”
She showed the tips of her retracted canines that were just visible below the gumline.
“Quite adequate,” Grace observed clinically, though her small smile conveyed admiration. As a vampire made, she was the only other woman in their group who had fangs.
“What do the fangs mean?” Clara asked, confused. “I thought only vampires have fangs.”
“Pure females have them too,” Ava said. “Rain, the Pure Ones’ Healer, tells me that Pure females who have found their Eternal Mate grow fangs. The better to draw Nourishment from their body. Just like Dark Mates, Pure Mates need each other for survival, blood and…”
She eyed Annie and amended the word she was about to say into, “the other stuff, you know what I mean.”
The other women nodded. They knew very well what she meant.
“But the difference is that Dark Mates can literally live off each other’s bodies, or close to it, while Pure Mates need real food.”
“So Ramses is your Mate?” Grace asked to confirm the only logical conclusion.
Eveline was silent for a while before answering.
“I’m not sure,” she said hesitantly. “Obviously, the strength of my feelings for him made me grow my fangs. But he is a Dark One. I do not know if he reciprocates. He can only be my Eternal Mate if he feels the same.”
“But you don’t feel the effects of the Decline, do you?” Ava asked.
“No. But that doesn’t mean he returns my feelings equally. I don’t know if a Pure One and a Dark One would have the same chemistry.”
“Tal and Ishtar are the only other comparable example,” Ava said, thoughtful. “But it’s clear they love each other madly. Although…”
Eveline perked up.
“What?”
“Tal suffered some version of the Decline for the entire time they’d been apart. Many of the symptoms were the same, Rain told me, but they weren’t severe enough to lead to death.”
Ava looked hopefully at Eveline.
“You don’t feel any ill effects at all? No pains or soreness?”
Eveline wasn’t about to tell the ladies about one particular throbbing soreness between her thighs.
Ramses was very big, and she was very small. And he made her come for a very long time. Even with her Pure healing powers, even after this many days, her core still throbbed with a dull, almost pleasurable pain.
Or perhaps it was just because she missed him.
“No pains.”
“Then we should take that as a positive sign,” Ava concluded.
“I think we’re being too logical about this,” Grace interjected. Rather surprisingly, since she was the most logical, machine-like-minded of them all, a symptom of her Asperger’s Syndrome.
“What do you suggest, Grace?” Clara asked.
“Just seduce him and take what you want.”
Eveline blinked at her like a hungry, startled baby bird.
“You have the fangs. You’re not feeling ill effects. There’s nothing to stop you from showing him how you feel. The only potential negative outcome is hurt feelings, on the chance that he doesn’t feel the same. But at least you know you’ll live. You’ll recover. And you know that age-old adage—if first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”
Eveline could only stare at the woman who was arguably even more logical than she was.
Put that way, what Grace said made a lot of sense.
The four women shared a conspiratorial grin.
“Good luck, Aunt Eveline! Go get him!” Annie said, looking up from her drawing.
And they all burst into helpless laughter.
“As with all living creatures, the universe demands Balance. While the Pure Ones embodied the purity of innocence and the strength of conviction, the Dark Ones were born to explore their opposite. All of the things that humans later ascribe as evil and sinful—lust, covetousness, gluttony, jealousy, aggression…Are they truly? Or are they simply the missing pieces to a half-formed puzzle…”
—From the lost oral histories of the Zodiac Scrolls
Chapter Eighteen
Eveline put Operation King Kong into effect the moment she left Clara’s apartment.
Much as it pained her, she decided to prioritize Ramses over books (all those thousands upon thousands of beautifully unique stories waiting for her in the Cove’s library!) for the next twenty-four hours.
Or however long it took to get a few things ironed out between them.
She showered and dressed with more care than her usual spartan efficiency, even brushing her hair out until the wavy mass shone with fiery brightness.
Somehow, in the days since they returned to the Cove, the clothes in her closet were replaced with her own. Ramses must have arranged for her things to be delivered from the Shield. As happy as Eveline was to see her own possessions again, she rather deplored her lack of “sexy” attire.
In her human life when she had lived in the monastery, her clothes had been shapeless, made of coarse, undyed wool, tied with a rope around the waist. She’d been covered from head to toe, always wearing a cape over her tunic with a hood over her head. She considered her “librarian” style of clothing in modern times rather scandalous in comparison, what with knee-length skirts displaying calves and ankles and short-sl
eeved blouses showing off most of her arms. Habits from her first incarnation, for those immortals who used to be human, were hard to break.
But Eveline had always had a rebellious and stubborn streak, though it was extremely well hidden. Since meeting Ramses, however, it had been rearing its insistent head with alarming frequency.
She indulged in that streak now, pulling on a light angora sweater that molded to her slight curves, with a low neckline that unfortunately didn’t reveal any tempting, plump cleavage, but at least accentuated the flawlessly smooth skin of her long neck, upper chest and arms. She paired it with a high-waisted skirt that came just above her knees (shocking!) and left her legs completely bare.
In fact, she took her rebellious streak to the next level by eschewing underwear altogether.
Her boobs didn’t need a bra to keep them up—they weren’t big enough to answer the call of gravity. And her sex…well, she did feel a strange, disconcerting breeze without the barrier of fabric to protect her core, but it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling. And as Eveline was a woman of efficiency, since the plan was to seduce the Dark King into acquiescence, underwear seemed like an unnecessary encumbrance.
Slipping on an old pair of leather flats, she left her apartment in search of her target.
It was in the middle of the night, so Ramses must be conducting official business either in the throne room or in his adjoining office.
She stopped by his office first, but he wasn’t there. She hoped he wasn’t away from the Cove, which meant she’d have to wait for his return.
Eveline was a relatively patient person. One had to be when trying to piece puzzles together from countless different stories across millennia of history. But when it came to Ramses, she was impatience incarnate.
She wanted everything now. To hear his husky, sinful, dark chocolate voice. To look into those mesmerizing obsidian eyes. To touch that big, muscular, harder-than-hard perfect male body. To kiss his smooth, satiny, golden-bronzed skin. To wrap her mouth around his thick, ruddy, glistening—
“Steady there.”
Two strong hands clasped Eveline’s upper arms before she plowed right into the male in front of her, so lost in her fantasies that she hadn’t noticed where she was going.
“Can I help you, Keeper? Court is in session.”
Eveline looked up at Devlin Sinclair.
The Hunter usually kept watch outside the throne room whenever Ramses held court. The heavy double doors were closed.
“I want to see Ramses,” she blurted.
Then grimaced, because she sounded like a petulant child.
“Will he be in there long?”
Devlin smiled down at her with a strange twinkle in his always mischievous eyes.
“Actually, you come at a good time. I was supposed to retrieve you from the library at about now. You saved me the trip.”
“Oh. I’m invited?”
Eveline recalled the last time Devlin had brought her into one of Ramses’ courts. The Dark King had made her sit at his feet like a dog.
Devlin didn’t directly answer her question, saying instead, “Come. He will be pleased to see you.”
He gestured for the guards to pull the doors open and ushered Eveline in front of him, giving her a gentle push between the shoulder blades.
Bollocks!
Eveline realized belatedly that she probably should have worn underwear after all. Who knew she was going to attend a formal gathering of Dark nobles and royalty?
The scene in the gigantic throne room was similar to the one she experienced before. Throngs of elaborately dressed, beautiful vampires lined up on two sides of the opulent space, leaving a wide path in the middle that led to the raised dais upon which the Dark King sat.
Eveline could feel their stares—some curious, some malevolent, all judgmental. But, as she had before, she focused her attention entirely on the male she was walking towards.
Merciful Goddess, but he was beautiful.
He was dressed the same way during the other formal court he’d held. All black, no adornments, almost casual in attire, his clothes flowing yet fitted. As always, his dark curls were tousled as if his lover had run her hands through them repeatedly while he made hot, passionate love to her; pulled those curls wildly while he made her scream in climax.
Eveline’s core involuntarily clenched and throbbed. Wetness gathered. She really, really regretted the lack of underwear.
His obsidian eyes glittered, and his nostrils subtly flared, as she made her way toward him, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking about when she looked upon him.
But who could blame her!
It’s what every sexually-aware female thought about when they looked at him. He turned her logic to mush, obliterated all her intelligence and reduced her to a molten, quivering mass of fleshly desire that only he could ever satisfy.
Eveline resisted the urge to rub a hand down her face in self-disgust. Even her thoughts were reduced to purple prose.
Finally, she stood before him at the bottom of the dais. Not meeting his eyes (because there was only so much a woman could take and not lose all semblance of self-control), she started to sit down at his feet, noticing that there wasn’t a fluffy floor pillow this time. Was she not a pampered pet any more?
“Pure One,” his dark chocolate voice said softly, stopping her butt’s descent.
“Here.”
She raised her eyes briefly to his before skittering away, not wanting to stare like a love-sick milkmaid. But she did catch his subtle gesture at the seat beside him.
Beside him?
Eveline did a double-take.
Incredibly, she hadn’t noticed the change when she was walking toward him, so focused on his person was she. The gigantic obsidian throne was even more enormous than before. Wider, mostly. It could easily seat three people the size of Ramses. There was a thin, cushioned divider in the middle to designate two seats, with large armrests on the sides.
He wanted her to sit beside him on the throne?
Eveline’s lust-melted mind couldn’t quite grasp the significance.
Happily, because the seat was padded with a comfortable looking leather cushion, she plopped her derriere down and sat.
Murmurs, grumbles and hisses swept through the hall. The Dark nobles were obviously not pleased with this blatant display.
“Silence.”
The low command was followed by ominous vibrations in the floor of the throne room, like the beginnings of a category six earthquake, which had the potential to turn into a category seven and beyond.
Silence immediately descended upon the hall.
A pleasant shiver ran through Eveline. Gracious, but Ramses was sexy when he demonstrated his strength. She couldn’t wait for him to give her some category seven and beyond earthquakes too.
At the same time, the beaten down prudish part of her mind deplored her new nymphomaniac tendencies where her male was concerned, but Eveline staunchly ignored that disapproving inner voice.
She shifted in her seat and squeezed her thighs together. That tremor he created in the hall made the throne feel like a heated massage chair, which only made her core throb harder and her channel get wetter. Completely attuned to the male beside her, she felt his awareness and the subtle tilt of his chin in her direction. Knowing that she had his attention only made Eveline more aroused.
Thankfully, he continued to address his audience, leaving Eveline to simmer helplessly beside him.
“Arria, come forth. Deliver the message from your queen.”
Queen Anya’s right hand stepped away from the throngs into the main aisle to address the king.
“My queen requests the official record of a draw to conclude the Challenge,” the statuesque female said. “It was interrupted prematurely—”
“I’d be happy to continue where I left off,” Ramses broke in. “But your queen’s Champion has been misplaced. Rules dictate that Anya herself takes up the Challenge. At the end of that duel, i
f it is still a draw, I will consider recording it.”
The messenger blanched, but pressed doggedly on, despite that she looked like she’d eaten rotten fish and would rather be any place but here.
“If the Challenge hadn’t been illegally interrupted,” she aimed a pointed, venomous look at Eveline, “our Champion would have won.”
A thunderous boom echoed through the whole chamber as if the building had been struck by lightning.
Arria paled even further, swallowing in an audible gulp.
“Perhaps I misheard you,” Ramses said silkily. “It was your Champion’s decision to leave the battle halfway through. As witnesses can attest on both sides, I tried to hold him down when he leapt into flight. I then pursued him to Mount St. Helens to finish the fight. In the end, here I sit, upon this throne.”
Eveline nodded in agreement and surreptitiously gave Ramses a thorough once over. Her badass alpha male sat his throne extremely well. Long legs spread, shoulders back, broad chest rising and falling hypnotically with each measured breath.
Her inner hussy growled and licked her chops at the delectable sight.
“Where is your Champion now? Bring him forth, and I shall gladly continue our match. Else, your queen must forfeit and die in his stead.”
“Ramses—” Queen Anya’s Second croaked, her protestation weak.
“A Challenge to the death,” the Dark King continued, cutting her off. “I demand Queen Anya’s head.”
Oh, he was on such a fabulous roll! Eveline thought. And he rhymed twice! She’d be sure to capture his words in the Ecliptic Scrolls afterwards.
“My lord—” a trembling, reedy, pleading tone entered Arria’s voice.
“But since you are here in the cowardly queen’s stead, perhaps I will take yours to assuage my bloodlust and hunt down my prey at a later date.”
Arria visibly shook with fright.
Eveline rather pitied her. But the devilish part of her simply sat back and enjoyed the show.
“I-if…m-my…” the female stuttered, looking as if she was about to pee in her pants.