Master of Darkness

by Susan Sizemore

  He didn’t sound any more pleased about this than Laurent felt, but the older Prime did sound—weary. Maybe a little desperate and lost. Justinian was a traditionalist. His stubborn strength of will was the reason the Manticores remained mired in all the ancient, dark ways of the Tribes.

  “Are you saying you want me as your heir?”

  “You are all I have left.”

  “So you’ve said.” Laurent felt as if a cold bucket of slime had just been poured over him.

  Once upon a time, he would have felt gleeful joy at such acknowledgment from Justinian—if only for the chance of sticking his tongue out at Belisarius. Then the moment would have passed, and he’d have turned Justinian down cold. Lead a Tribe pack? No way in hell.

  But right now was not the time to say no. He didn’t quite believe Justinian, anyway. The old boy was a master at holding out a carrot, then beating him with a stick.

  “You are my son,” Justinian said. He said it through gritted teeth.

  The words simply left Laurent empty. He glanced around the bedroom. “I don’t see any witnesses.”

  “Tomorrow night,” Justinian promised. “I will call you son before all the household.”

  “Fine.” He was here on business. “I want the female now.”

  Justinian seemed relieved to accept this as capitulation. “You’ll be taken to her,” he said, and called for his slave.

  He was taken to the room full of windows. Laurent recognized it with a painful twist of memory as he caught sight of the beautiful young woman seated on the bed. He was very glad that she wasn’t naked.

  She looked too much like Antonia, though her blond hair was short. And she was bound with the same silver manacles he remembered circling his mother’s wrists.

  She looked him over coolly, exhibiting not a bit of fear. He stood frozen as the door closed behind him, and her gaze traveled slowly from his feet to his face, until their gazes met and held. Her eyes were the exact shade of blue-gray as his own.

  “Laurent,” she finally said. “It’s about bloody time.”

  “You look like Antonia.” He knew he sounded like a child.

  She smiled. “So do you.”

  He shook his head. “I have a sister. How could I have a sister?”

  “I’m Sid, by the way.”

  She sounded calm, but he could feel that she was anxious, as afraid of this going badly as he was.

  “I know. I’ve been Sid myself.”

  Beautifully sculpted brows lowered over her familiar eyes. “What?”

  “A long story. Something of a farce, really. With werewolves.”

  “So you’ve met Joe. I hoped you would, when I let them kidnap me.”

  While this comment was puzzling, Laurent wasn’t ready to talk about the last few days. He came closer to the bed.

  “How is this possible? How are you possible?” His voice was tight with pain.

  “Our mother was rescued. I’ll let her tell you her story. But the problem with being rescued by her protective Clan was that she ended up in another sort of prison for years. She wanted to march out and find you; instead she was sheltered and counseled and kept in the Clan citadel for her own good. She did need to be loved and cherished, but she was stronger than they would believe. She eventually formed a relationship with a Corvus Prime, and I was the result.

  “Now, I have a question for you.” Her expression turned stern. “I want to know whether all the time and effort I’ve gone to, looking for you, was worth it. Are you a Tribe or a Clan boy?”

  Laurent shrugged. “I’m Prime,” he answered. “That’s the only thing I’m really sure of.”

  “That’s not encouraging.”

  “It’s all I’ve got for you at the moment. It’s been a rough week.”

  She lifted her manacled wrists. “Tell me about it.”

  Laurent smiled. It seemed his sister shared his sense of humor.

  He had a sister. Whoa.

  He hoped this bittersweet pleasure wouldn’t fade.

  She studied him carefully. “You’re thinking that the old bastard could convince you to take a tribal view of the matter.”

  “It’s happened before.” He looked at his watch. But he knew when the sun would come up, and how then the room would be full of light. “I’m supposed to be raping you right now.”

  She bared fangs at him. “You could try.”

  “Nah. I’ve already got a girlfriend,” he answered. Though Eden was well out of this, he missed her. “If she saw me here, now, she wouldn’t agree about the girlfriend description.”

  “Girlfriend. Now, isn’t that an odd term for a Tribe boy to use?”

  “I have a lot of identity issues.”

  He finally managed to walk up to the bed, but he could not bring himself to even sit down on it.

  “I—Antonia—” Laurent cleared his throat. “She used to be kept in here.”

  “So the bastard gleefully informed me.” Sid lifted her manacled hands to grasp his fingers. Her touch felt like Antonia’s, as well. “He’s trying to use your identity issues against you. Controlling you is essential to his game plan.”

  Laurent cocked an eyebrow at his newfound sibling. “Aren’t you doing the same thing? Didn’t you mention something about letting yourself be captured?”

  She lifted an eyebrow back. “I acted on intuition. Also, I was way outnumbered when the fight started.” She laughed. “From all the yelling around here the last few days, I believe that you and—your girlfriend’s a hunter?—have reduced the Manticore population. And this knockoff drug they take isn’t helping their cause any.”

  “They have a supply of Dawn?”

  “Laurent—” She reacted sternly to his enthusiasm. “You do not want to start taking that shit.”

  “Easy for you to condemn. When the sunlight comes through those windows, you can just work on your tan.”

  “I’m not condemning; I’m saying that Dawn isn’t safe. Justinian’s boys are getting twitchy. He doesn’t want them taking it, but he can’t stop them.” She squeezed his hands. “That’s one of the reasons he wants you back. You’re going to lead his tribe into the future.”

  Laurent stepped back. “I’m no leader. No alpha Prime.” Which was the last thing a Prime would normally confess to. He gave Sid an ironic smile. “I be a lover not a fighter, sister mine. So you might not want to count on me to come to the rescue.”

  “You’re here,” she answered. “I’ll count on you being cunning and resourceful.”

  He didn’t feel like he was either. After all, he was here, precisely where Justinian wanted him to be. He’d given up his one bargaining chip. His sister was in chains. He wasn’t completely certain Justinian couldn’t talk him into anything he wanted. The Dawn was tempting.

  Nobody was safe, or saved.

  Still, he said, “I’ll think of something.”

  Sid glanced out one of the many windows. “It’s going to be dawn soon.”

  Laurent backed toward the door. “You’ll be all right? Nobody’s going to come in and—”

  “Justinian won’t let them lay a finger on me. He still has that much control of his pack. I’m supposed to be your private sex slave.”

  These words wouldn’t have turned the stomach of a proper Tribe Prime. Incest wasn’t really an issue for them.

  He turned away from his sister, but waved a hand before reaching for the doorknob. “I’ll—be back later.”

  Out in the hall, with the closed door between them, Laurent leaned his head against the wood, lost about what to do next. It was so much easier to be one of the bad guys. Maybe he should just go with that.

  Then a commotion at the front of the house drew his attention, and a familiar mortal presence registered itself on his senses.

  Eden Faveau might not be psychic, but she made a very strong impression. Especially when she was shouting at the top of her lungs.

  “Shit.” Now the one person he thought was safe was here. He smashed a fist angrily into
the wall.

  Then he raced toward the front room to see just how much trouble Eden was in now.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Touch me there again, and I’ll kill you,” Eden warned the Prime she’d managed to kick in the balls.

  He’d been too busy fondling her to consider that she might be able to defend herself. Maybe he didn’t think she’d recovered from the Taser shocks, or maybe he didn’t think women could fight. But he’d just learned a lesson.

  He surged up off the floor with his fangs and claws extended. A second vampire grabbed her from behind and held her still while the first Prime stalked toward her.

  “I’m going to slash your face, first.” He touched his sharp claw points to her cheeks, then pulled his hands back so she could get a good look at them. “Scared?”

  “Of course she’s scared,” a familiar voice drawled.

  Eden managed to turn enough in her captor’s grip to watch Laurent move into the room with a dangerous fluid grace. The effect was rather like a cheetah loping into a room full of pussy-cats.

  She barely recognized him.

  “Melodrama.” Laurent sighed.

  Then he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out of the other Prime’s hold. He forced her head back with casual ease, twisting his fingers in her hair. “You don’t need to ask permission to terrify someone. Just do it.” He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Fight me, and it will really hurt.”

  Though the body pressing hard against her back was familiar, she barely recognized his voice. Her neck ached and her scalp burned from the pressure.

  He spoke over her head. “If you touch her again, Alexos, I’ll be the one to kill you.”

  “Of course he will,” a new voice said.

  Laurent let go of her head but kept an arm around her waist, tight as a steel band. She glanced toward the newcomer and felt jarring fear as she recognized the Prime from an old photo in his dossier.

  “Justinian.”

  His gaze barely flicked her way when she spoke his name. He concentrated his attention on Laurent, and he smiled. Eden couldn’t fathom what that meant. Why was Laurent here?

  Justinian came to stand in front of Laurent and gave him a nod of approval.

  The monster was older than in the surveillance picture, but the debauched angel beauty was still there. The photo only hinted at the coldness and arrogant contempt that permeated this creature’s being, though.

  “Did the hunter follow me here?” Laurent asked.

  “Oh, no,” Justinian said. “I sent for her.”

  The steel band around her waist tightened further, bringing a gasp of pain from her. Laurent knew she was hurting, but he didn’t ease up. She was tempted to struggle, but something about Laurent’s dangerous tension as he faced Justinian warned her to keep quiet.

  “Why?” Laurent asked.

  “Another present.”

  “You are being far too generous.” There was nothing polite in Laurent’s tone.

  “Very likely,” Justinian answered.

  He was smiling, sounding pleasant, but Eden recognized the implied threat in every word.

  She glanced at the four other Primes who were hanging back, watching and waiting. They looked mean, and they looked greedy. Or maybe hungry was a better term—hungry for violence, hungry for power. Hungry for her, she realized as she noticed the way they darted heated glances at her. It made her skin crawl.

  A couple of them didn’t look very healthy, either; they were more pasty than pale. Dawn users, she guessed.

  “I was surprised you didn’t bring her with you,” Justinian continued.

  This drew Eden’s attention away from the rest of the audience. She could barely breathe as it was, but she held her breath, waiting for Laurent’s response.

  “You were offering me something better,” Laurent said. She felt his shrug all along her body. “No reason I can’t have them both.”

  “A harem is a Prime’s right,” Justinian agreed. “But I was thinking about the female’s other use. You did acquire her to unlock the secrets in the Patron’s computer, didn’t you?”

  “Acquire?” Eden was too outraged to keep quiet this time.

  Laurent’s free hand came across her mouth, effectively silencing her. He had complete control of her. And it was growing clearer by the second that Laurent was just as ruthless and evil as the other Primes gathered around her like carrion feeders. She was dizzy with fear, confusion—and growing revulsion.

  “I thought you might have your own expert,” Laurent said.

  The older Prime laughed. “Nonsense. As usual, you were trying to thwart me.” He put an elegant hand on Laurent’s shoulder. “From now on we won’t play those sort of games, my son.”

  Son?

  Eden felt ready to faint.

  The shock from the other vampires jerked her back into the present.

  “Son?” one of them demanded. “He’s been running with the hunters slaughtering us!”

  Justinian swiftly turned and raked claws across the younger Prime’s face. “With my permission!” A deep snarl rumbled from his throat, and everybody backed away. He glared for a couple of seconds, then nodded as gazes dropped. Justinian turned back to Laurent. “You see what I have to put up with?”

  “They’re a handful, all right,” Laurent answered. “Do you want to use my blood slave’s computer skills now?”

  “Take the day with her,” Justinian said magnanimously. “You know I do my business at night.”

  Eden was overwhelmed by the news that Laurent was a Tribe Prime. Even worse, he was Justinian’s son.

  She wanted his hands off her. She wanted to spit in his face. Most importantly, she wanted to kill him.

  Instead he dragged her along behind him like a rag doll, up a flight of stairs and into a heavily curtained bedroom. He kicked the door closed, tossed her onto her back on a wide bed, then turned on a dim overhead light.

  “Well, isn’t this another fine mess you’ve gotten me into,” he said, looking down at her with his hands on his hips.

  “You scum-sucking maggot bastard!” was her reply.

  “I’m a bastard, all right. But if you call me a son of a bitch I’ll be tempted to hurt you.”

  “You’re Tribe. Manticore!”

  “Yep.” The succinct word was not spoken with any relish.

  Eden noticed that her cheeks were wet; she was crying in front of a lying Tribe bastard. This only made the anger and humiliation worse. “I slept with you!”

  “And you’re likely to be sleeping with me again.” The way he looked her over reminded Eden that she was lying on the bed like some barbarian’s war prize.

  And he’d called her a blood slave.

  It was said that blood slaves were completely addicted to their Tribe masters. She and Laurent had shared blood. She’d thought it was a mutual gift—of trust, of pleasure. But he must have been doing it simply to use her. How much did it take to turn someone into a helpless addict?

  She’d been so naive. Stupid. Gullible. All those years of training had been forgotten almost from the moment she met him.

  All because he was so damn beautiful, so challenging, so charming—so good in bed.

  She sat up, her head and stomach reeling. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  He crossed his arms. “Well, that certainly feeds my ego.”

  “I was an idiot to trust you.”

  “Not exactly an idiot. I’m a very accomplished liar. Perhaps liar isn’t the right word. Actor. You saw what you wanted to see, Eden. I went along with you. We even kicked some Tribe butt. Now, didn’t that make you happy?”

  “Not as happy as it will make me when I kill you.”

  He smiled. Then the smile turned into a long, deep laugh.

  “It’s not an empty threat,” she pointed out.

  He stopped laughing, but there was still amusement in his eyes, where before they’d been hard and angry. “I love a woman who talks like that,” he told her. “It mu
st be genetic.” He looked surprised for a moment, and added. “In fact—”

  He made a strangled sound and turned his back on her. He muttered something she couldn’t make out.

  “In fact, what?” she demanded.

  “You don’t want to hear it.” He faced her again. “You won’t believe me.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Love,” he answered. “I don’t want to believe it. I’ve never been so scared in my life, but I have to say it. I love you, Eden Faveau.”

  “You’re saying that to hurt me.”

  “I love you,” he repeated. “There’s nothing I can do about it, nothing I want to do about it—except prove it to you. But discovering it right now is damned inconvenient for both of us.”

  Whatever it was he meant by love, she did not want to know. “Liar. Scheming rat bastard liar.”

  He shrugged.

  It annoyed her that even though he’d revealed his true identity, Laurent was still acting like—Laurent. Downstairs in front of the other Primes he’d been all macho and nasty, but once they were alone, he’d reverted to the Laurent she’d thought she’d known for the last several days.

  The Laurent she’d been so attracted to.

  “Did you put a glamour on me?” she demanded.

  “A what?”

  “You know, did you use your telepathic powers to make me attracted to you?”

  “You wish. Then you wouldn’t have to take responsibility for your actions. The blood we shared wasn’t what drew you to me.” He shook a finger at her. “The seduction was mutual. Have I forced anything on you?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “Eden.”

  “Okay,” she admitted grudgingly. “No.”

  “You wanted me because you wanted me.” He gave an unabashed happy grin. “Thank you. I’m not used to being wanted for myself.”

  He sounded too honest, too vulnerable. This touched her, though he had to be playing her. “Oh, please,” she countered. “What’s not to want?”

  “I know. I’m perfect. But I generally don’t get to know my partners or let them know me. You’re my first.”

  Eden couldn’t stop her raucous, bitter laugh. She got to her feet. “Excuse me, but how do I know you? First you let me think you’re Sid Wolf. Then the werewolf calls you Laurent Wolf. Now I find out you’re actually a Manticore.” She shuddered, and couldn’t stop the grimace. She’d had sex—lots of really good sex—with a Manticore. “How did you convince a werewolf’s legendary senses that you’re a Wolf Clan vampire? Or was the werewolf in on a scheme to con me?”