Betrayal was a natural part of an Incubus’s life. It just wasn’t supposed to come from within one’s own family. Javan couldn’t imagine any of his brothers betraying him.
But Canaan probably said the same thing.
There was upheaval in their world. First, House Akana suddenly dying out, which gave House Marakel the Obsidian Throne. Now, the Sovereign refusing to step down after his allotted centuries on the Throne.
Javan wished that’s all there was, but Elijah had given him more news the night before. A few Blades—females who are half human and half angel who were on the Death Squad for the Sovereign—had begun to go rogue.
What the hell else was going to happen?
“Give me five minutes, and I’ll be there,” Elijah said.
“The Sovereign has demanded I come alone,” Javan said as he stood. He went on before Elijah could argue. “That’s why I want you in the shadows so he can’t see you.”
Elijah smiled and pivoted. “Be wary, Javan.”
As if he needed to be reminded. Obviously the Sovereign didn’t want to give up the Throne, even though it was how the Houses had survived through thousands of millennia.
Just what was the Sovereign up to?
Anyone sitting on the Obsidian Throne had the key to Heaven, Hell, and the prison for the supernatural—the Oubliette.
Family made him think about his own. Javan put his hands on his desk and sighed. Drohas had been a strong House within the Incubus world, and in order for that to continue, Javan needed an heir.
At one time, that hadn’t been an issue. The numbers of their female race, the Succubi, had once been many, but they had since been wiped out.
The only way for an Incubus to continue their line was with a Nephilim—a half human, half angel. The Nephilim were proud of their heritage, and more than willing to birth babies the Incubi needed to continue.
But there was a catch. If an Incubus had sex with a Nephilim more than eight times, they were mated. The Incubus wouldn’t be able to have sex with anyone but his mated female. And the Nephilim would become immortal.
It was why many Nephilim had attempted to deceive an Incubus into a long-term relationship. It was also why the Harem had been designed.
Each Nephilim family had a daughter chosen for the Harem. The female was obligated to birth one child for a House. The female would give up all ties to the child.
Each of Javan’s three brothers had been to the Harem and conceived children there. Javan was the only one who hadn’t seen to his duties.
All that would change in a week’s time when he was scheduled for a visit.
It wasn’t that Javan didn’t want children, because he wanted that very much. But he yearned for what the humans had—a wife, love, a family.
But that wasn’t the way for most Incubi.
Javan straightened and walked around his desk. It was time for his meeting.
~
Naomi stared at herself in the mirror of the bathroom. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so nervous, and it had nothing to do with her photographs hanging on the wall for the exhibit outside the bathroom door.
No, it all had to do with Javan Drohas.
She had been following him for several weeks, waiting to get a glimpse of the man. He was cagey, rarely seen. Those times he left the building, she only caught a fleeting look at him. Thankfully there were pictures of him that she was able to look up on the internet.
Of course he would be drop-dead gorgeous. Men like him always were. But that didn’t stop her from continuing on her mission. His looks, power, and money were nothing she wanted. No, she was after something else entirely.
The reflection staring back at Naomi looked sophisticated and cultured. Her chic black dress skimmed her body, but was high-necked and sleeveless. The cocktail dress was shorter than she would’ve liked, allowing much of her legs to be seen. Since she was so tall, she probably shouldn’t have chosen the slinky stilettos, but she hadn’t been able to resist wearing them.
Her blond hair was pulled away from her face in a low ponytail secured at the base of her neck. The only jewelry that adorned her were gold earrings that hung nearly to her shoulders.
Naomi took a deep breath and slowly released it. “You can do it,” she reminded herself.
One last check of her lipstick, and Naomi walked out of the bathroom. The gallery had yet to open to guests. Only the artists who had pieces at the exhibit were in the building.
Naomi glanced around, looking for Javan. She should’ve guessed he wouldn’t arrive until the guests. He was much too important to talk to the lowly artists he wanted to claim he found.
Her stomach rolled violently. She hadn’t eaten for fear of tossing up her cookies, and it had been the right thing to do by the way she felt.
“No need to be nervous,” Elijah said as he walked up and handed her a glass of champagne.
She put a smile in place and accepted the glass. “There would be something wrong if I wasn’t nervous.”
“You’ve had showings before.”
Naomi shrugged and took a sip of the golden liquid, feeling the bubbles on her tongue. “Not like this. This is the Drohas Foundation.”
“No kidding?” he asked with a wink.
She didn’t want to like Elijah, but she couldn’t help herself. His jesting eased her riled nerves. Besides, he wasn’t the one being blamed for her sister’s death.
But he was in Javan’s inner circle. That could help her get closer to Javan.
“Javan was sorry he didn’t get to talk to you the other day. He had a meeting he needed to attend. I’m sure he’ll search you out tonight.”
“I’m counting on it,” she mumbled beneath her breath before she took another drink.
Their conversation was interrupted by a worker at the exhibit. Naomi turned back to her photos. Though she didn’t want to admit it, the fact her work was in the foundation exhibit was a huge boon. It would do great things for her career.
Becky had urged her to submit her pictures for years, but Naomi had always feared being passed over. It was sad that it was Becky’s death that had gotten her here.
Naomi’s pictures were plastered on the wall in various sizes, the lighting strategically placed to give onlookers the best view.
“What a talent,” said a deep male voice behind her. “I can’t believe she hasn’t been here before.”
Naomi gripped the stem of her champagne glass and looked at the largest picture featured, which happened to be her sister as the model. “I’m glad you like them.”
“I’m going to buy one.”
Naomi turned her head toward him, only giving him a curious glance. She didn’t pay him much attention though. He wasn’t her mark. “Thank you.”
“You’re the artist?”
“I am.”
He moved so that he stood even with her as they stared at the photos. “You have a gift. You make a story with one photo. Few people can do that.”
His praise made her smile, and she was finding she loved hearing his silky voice. He didn’t shout. Everything he said was spoken in a soft tone with just enough bass to make her want to lean toward him.
Her skin began to heat, desire rolling through her in thick waves. It was making it impossible for her to think clearly.
“You’re very kind,” she said and chanced another look.
He was so tall she had to tilt her head up to see his face. There were few men with that kind of height. His wealth of blond hair was thick and wavy. It was long, hanging to his chin while the front had been shoved back by a careless hand.
She loved it.
The look shouldn’t have gone with his ability to pull off a suit that had men and women alike looking his way. Perhaps Naomi should’ve paid more attention. Wouldn’t it be grand if she could find her sister’s killer, sell her work, and get a date?
A three-in-one.
She sucked in a breath as her sex throbbed. Her feet shifted as she tried to put a na
me to the reason as to why her stomach felt as if she was riding a roller coaster.
“It’s the truth.”
That voice again. Naomi began to take another drink of champagne, then thought better of it as her stomach couldn’t decide if it was nauseous or excited.
She turned to face the man, a smile in place when he looked at her. The smile froze, and her stomach soured instantly as she gazed into a face she knew all too well.
“Javan Drohas,” she said.
CHAPTER TWO
Naomi tossed back the rest of the champagne at having come face to face with her nemesis. As soon as the alcohol hit her empty stomach, she knew it had been a mistake.
“The detriment of being well known,” he said with a charming smile. “People always have me at a disadvantage. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Parker. I’ve been admiring your work since Elijah brought it to me.”
She was going to be sick. Throwing up on him wasn’t exactly the kind of revenge she wanted, but it’s what he deserved.
Naomi swallowed and took in steady breaths through her nose. By Javan’s slight frown, he knew something was wrong. She was going to have to think fast for an excuse.
“Pardon me,” she said quickly. “I never do well in these situations. I think it’s a little cruel for an artist to stand around while others critique our work.”
“You also get to hear the praise.”
She forced as much of a chuckle as she could manage.
Javan then gave a slight bow of his head. “If you’ve no wish to stand here, please feel free to walk around. Perhaps we can talk later.”
Naomi watched him walk away. She was finally able to take a deep breath, but whatever had caused her entire body to quiver with raw excitement had begun to ebb.
“Excitement?” She shook her head. “Pull yourself together, Naomi.”
Just as Naomi was walking away from her pictures, an older couple strolled up, asking about the photos. For the next half hour she talked to the French couple about her work.
When she next looked up, a businessman from Prague and a woman of Spanish nobility were on either side of her. Her thoughts of Javan, the murder of her sister, and her revenge were forgotten as she spoke about the only thing she loved—photography.
~
Javan couldn’t take his eyes off Naomi Parker. The black cocktail dress was understated. It would be called plain on anyone else, but on her, its simple grace only added more mystery.
His gaze went to her hair. It was like spun gold. He’d had a hard time not touching it when he was standing near her. Her artic blue eyes had been direct and searching. He’d become lost in her gaze, drowning in pools of blue.
It had seemed to take him forever to get her to look at him, but once she had, he’d been utterly captivated. She was so stunningly beautiful that his breath had been sucked from his chest.
She had the face of an angel, it was so perfectly formed. For a moment, he wondered if she was a dream. It seemed impossible for someone like her to exist.
Yet there she was. Sharp cheekbones softened by wide, full lips and a pert nose. Brows of a darker blond arched softly over large eyes.
His gaze lowered down her slim neck to her body. There was a hint of gold tinting her skin, speaking of hours in the sun. He spotted definition in her arm muscles, telling him she worked out.
With his blood pounding in his ears, he took in her breasts, the indent of her waist, and then legs that went on forever.
“What do you think?” Elijah asked from beside him.
Javan finished off his champagne. “When did you know she was Nephilim?”
“As soon as I met her.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
Elijah chuckled and turned to face him. “I’m your Watchman, Javan. If a Nephilim wants to pay you a visit, who am I to stand in the way?”
“You know I can only have one night with her. What does that do for either of us?” Damn Elijah for interfering. Javan would’ve been happy never seeing the amazing beauty of Naomi.
“Are you afraid of finding a mate?”
“What I fear is being deceived. You saw what that did to my uncle.” Javan put the empty champagne glass down on the tray of a passing waiter and grabbed another.
Elijah held his champagne without taking a drink. “You need an heir.”
“What do you know about her?” Javan asked, hoping to turn the topic off the need for him to beget an heir.
“The surname threw me. I didn’t recognize it, although she’s from Australia, from her birth records.”
Javan watched Naomi talk to a good-looking man from Switzerland. He didn’t like the spurt of envy that rose at her smiling so easily. She hadn’t been quite so welcoming with him.
“I know you, Elijah. You’re a damned bloodhound. You know all about her, and for some reason you’ve waited until now to tell me.”
Elijah chuckled, though his humor died quickly. “Parker is not her true surname. It’s Williams.”
“That sounds familiar,” Javan said as he swiveled his head toward Elijah.
“It should. Naomi’s sister was Rebecca Williams.”
Javan instantly remembered Rebecca and her artistry with clay. “Rebecca was an amazing talent. I hate that we lost her.”
“Yes.”
Javan’s gaze slid back to Naomi. “Tell me the pretty photographer didn’t change her name in order to get close to me because she suspects I killed her sister.”
“That’s exactly my thought,” Elijah said with a loud sigh.
“I suppose the police investigation that cleared me means nothing?”
Elijah lifted one shoulder and watched Naomi. “It appears not.”
“Well, if Naomi wants to get close, let’s give her what she wants.”
“Is that wise?”
Javan knew it probably wasn’t, but he had to settle this with Naomi soon because his entire family was in danger with the ongoing problems with the Sovereign. “Let’s see what move she makes next.”
“This should be fun,” Elijah mumbled sarcastically beneath his breath.
Javan smiled at his Watchman. Elijah had been with him for centuries. There was no one he trusted more than Elijah with his life or his family.
How Javan longed for the days when the Succubi were still alive. It wasn’t that he had a grudge against the Nephilim, even if others blamed them for the annihilation of the Succubi.
Javan mingled around the gallery, stopping to talk to each artist along the way. But his attention shifted back to Naomi again and again.
He’d had a mind to seduce her right up until he learned why she was there. Javan didn’t blame her for wanting to know the truth. There were many truths he searched for as well. If he couldn’t take her to his bed, he would help her solve her sister’s case.
~
Naomi’s feet hurt. She could no longer feel her toes, and though she desperately longed to remove her shoes she couldn’t for fear her swollen feet wouldn’t fit back in them.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t wear heels often, but there was a difference in donning them for a date and standing in them for hours.
She shifted and tilted one foot back on the heel to give some relief to her poor toes. There had been very few moments to herself since the gallery opened that night.
It helped stroke her self-esteem that so many liked her photos. If that were the only reason she was at the exhibit, it would be an amazing night. But every time she looked at her sister’s picture she was reminded of what she had to do.
A waiter passed by her with a tray of food. She snagged one of the shot glasses filled with cocktail sauce and a large shrimp sitting atop it.
She was starving. Naomi had to stop herself from taking the entire tray and sitting on the floor to devour it. It was her own damn fault for not eating. It was backfiring on her. Now she was lightheaded from all the champagne on an empty stomach.
It also didn’t help that Javan Drohas was always ne
ar. The man oozed power and authority as much as he did sex appeal. But she wasn’t going to allow that to affect her. Regardless if he was an Incubus or not.
The first time Naomi had read her sister’s diary, she had thought Becky had gone crazy. Naomi had thought nothing more about it until she began to do research on the Drohas family.
Every child mentioned was always male. Then there was the fact that none of the men were ever seen with their supposed wives. Everything about the Drohas family was kept private and out of the public eye.
Naomi had then done her research on the Incubi. They were supposed to be a legend, like vampires and such. Yet the things Becky wrote about—in detail—were so similar to what Naomi had read about the Incubi that it made her begin to suspect.
For two weeks she trailed Javan Drohas. Or she tried. He was a hard man to track. Rarely was he alone except in his building, and she hadn’t been able to get a good shot of him from the building across the street either.
Oddly enough, what she did learn was that Javan looked almost identical to his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather.
Naomi wasn’t sure she really believed he was an Incubus, but there was something off about Javan. Incubi were demons who had sex to live. That could be how Becky died. Naomi was going to prove how she died, as well as prove he was Becky’s killer.
She quickly smiled, hiding her wince, as a man and woman walked past her. Naomi was going to have to do the unthinkable. She was going to have to remove her shoes if there was even a thought of her making it to her car.
Fifteen minutes later she was handed a list of all her photos that had been purchased. The price was triple what she would have asked for, and the Drohas Foundation only took five percent that went toward helping local artists.
Naomi hated that Javan did something so kind. She wanted to despise him. Not feel that he might have a shred of decency. Then again, what had she read about sociopaths?
“They charmed, lulling their victims,” she said.
“Talking about someone I know?”
She whirled around to find Elijah behind her. The sudden movement caused her feet to throb in such a way that she lost her balance.
Masters of Seduction Volume 2: Books 5-8: Paranormal Romance Box Set Page 9