Haral hissed, tiny beads of saliva splattering his bottom lip. “I charge you with a task, Ezryn Navarr,” he snarled. “And for every night you choose not to obey my command, I will slaughter one vampire who chose to rebel against my ascension.”
Ezryn’s cold blood turned to fire. “You wouldn’t dare. I accepted that ridiculous proclamation to save bloodshed.”
His brother sneered, wrapping his fingers around Ezryn’s wrist. “Try me, Ezzie.”
The nickname stabbed into Ezryn’s chest. They had always despised each other, from the moment Haral learned of his lower position in the family. One son born to be lord, one son born to be subservient. One groomed for the duty, the other hungering for it with every molecule in his body. Ezryn bared his fangs, releasing his grip on Haral’s throat and stepping away from him. “That we come from the same blood disgusts me.”
Smoothing his hands over the crumpled collar of his shirt, Haral smiled, the action both smug and perverted. “As it does me, brother. So tell me, will you have your loyal followers’ destruction on your conscience? Will they drown in blood and burn in sunlight? Or will you do as your lord commands?”
Ezryn thought of the hundreds of vampires who had adamantly and vocally refused Haral’s ascension. Vampires who had moved beyond the savagery of their race long ago. Vampires who continued to have faith in him, even when he stepped aside. Who bemoaned his move to Australia and begged him to lead a rebellion. He remembered Kristoph, his tutor and advisor in the royal court for close to four centuries. The ancient vampire had been one of only two to discover Haral’s relationship with the oracle. Kristoph had spoken at length to the court, petitioning them not to appoint Haral, but his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Or scared ones. The mass slaughter of those immediately loyal to Ezryn had begun with Kristoph. Only Ezryn’s departure from Europe had halted the cleansing. Harry, of course, denounced his followers’ actions. He spoke verbosely and grandly of peace and coexistence but did little to stop the executions. Fifty years later, and the fury in Ezryn’s chest had not lessened one iota.
He stared at his brother. The disquiet in his chest grew colder. Tighter. What he was about to agree to do was insanity, but he had no choice. There was always a solution to lunacy—even if the solution was lunacy itself. “Where do I find this Principatus you’re so willing to see dead you will condemn hundreds?”
His overlord grinned at him, fangs glistening in the candlelight, eyes shining with cold triumph. “Why, in Australia, Ezzie. In the very city you now call home.”
“What do you mean, kill a Principatus? Is he insane?”
Jacob Ford, Ezryn’s closest friend and Sydney’s most successful nightclub owner, frowned, the glass of malt whiskey in his hand forgotten. He stared at Ezryn, his dark brown eyes troubled, his jaw clenched.
Navarr grunted, taking a mouthful of his own whiskey as he crossed his living room and dropped into a low armchair. “I had that very thought.” He crossed his ankles on the glass coffee table before him and gave his friend a dry smile. “And a few others it’s probably best I don’t express about the overlord.”
The American vampire snorted, the sound short and contemptuous. “Fat Harry isn’t the leader of the vampire race, Ezryn. You are.”
Ezryn shook his head and took another drink, the amber liquid burning its way down his throat like liquid fire. “No, Jacob. My brother is. You know it just as well as you know why I’m not. And as such, I am bound to obey my lord.”
“Well, your lord is going to start a fucking war between the assassins of the Highest of Powers and vampires the world over.” Jacob dropped into the other armchair and fixed Ezryn with a worried look. “Dark Ones, Ezryn. The idiot turns up here fifty years after that farce of a crowning ceremony trying to throw his considerable weight around, and you’re laughing about it? Does he even comprehend what he’s ordering you to do? You destroy a Principatus in an unprovoked attack and we may as well cry Apocalypse and kiss our asses goodbye. And he’s making you the target of both sides. Not only will the Principatus come after you, vampires across the globe will want to tear you limb from limb for starting such a senseless, bloody war.”
“I realize that.” Ezryn placed his empty glass on the coffee table and leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of the armchair. “Haral has been looking for a way to get rid of me for as long as I can remember, and he’s finally found one.” He grinned, his fangs scraping at the inside of his bottom lip. “It’s actually quite clever…for my brother. I didn’t know Harry had it in him.”
Jacob pulled a contemptuous face, flashing his fangs, and then drained his glass. “He doesn’t have it in him. If he did, he wouldn’t resort to trickery to claim your title. Seriously, Ezryn, don’t you think this lunacy has gone on long enough? You know as well as I that you have the numbers to reclaim the position rightfully yours. The vampire race may be hobbled by tradition and ritual, but we’re not imbeciles. Fat Harry’s leadership is sending us all on a one-way path toward mass bloodshed and revolt. For fuck’s sake, only last year he ordered all bleeders swear loyalty to him or face sunrise chained to a tree. He’s on a power rush, dangerously out of control, and I for one am sick of it. It’s time to end the farce and put the moronic fuck in his place.”
Ezryn snorted, casting his friend a level look. “How many would perish in such a rebellion, Jake? How many vampires would be destroyed? How many humans would die caught in the crossfire? Haral’s followers are as loyal to him as mine are to me. The difference is his zealots have no respect for life of any kind except their own. You are right, I am the true overlord, and as such my first duty is to the survival of my race, not the decimation of it in a blood feud.”
Jacob growled, the sound low, demonic and very disgruntled. “I don’t know why I didn’t stake the bastard fifty years ago. I was there in his compound when he gave the order to execute Kristoph. The fat fuck could be nothing but dust now, and none of this shit would be going down.”
Ezryn gave Jacob a level look, ignoring the sorrowful anger spearing into him at the mention of his one-time advisor. “You would have been dusted the second you did, my friend.”
Jacob scowled, his expression dark. “I can take care of myself. You know that.” He pushed himself to his feet, agitation clear on his timelessly handsome face. “Besides, at this point the sacrifice would have been worth it. The moment you destroy the Principatus, Harry’s signing a death note for us all. The vampire race is strong, despite our ridiculous leader, but we will not survive the wrath of God. As much as it pains me to say it, we vampires would be on the losing side. Pick off one of His agents for no other reason than idiotic revenge and we’re all dusted.”
“And if I don’t obey my brother’s command, every vampire who opposed his ascension and stayed loyal to me will be slaughtered.” Ezryn turned his gaze from the other vampire. “I cannot have their blood, your blood, on my hands, General Ford.” He rose to his feet and crossed to the bar to pour himself another whiskey, his chest tight. “I will find the Principatus who offended my brother’s new wife,” he said, turning back to Jacob, “and kill her, as the overlord has ordered me to do.”
And then, he finished silently, I will offer myself to the Powers as an act of sacrifice and beg Their forgiveness. Allow them to do with me what they will to appease Their want for retribution. Hopefully this will halt the war before it can begin.
He drained his glass, keeping his expression neutral. “There is no other choice.”
Jacob narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like it. I still say you let me dust the imbecile. I can enter his compound while he is here and have the deed done before the sun rises. He doesn’t know I’m in Australia and will not expect it. Hell, Harry’s followers are idiots. Those loyal to you can—”
“Follow my lead,” Ezryn cut Jacob short. “I must obey the overlord’s command, as must all vampires. It is the law of our kind.” He gave his friend a hard stare. “I will not allow any of those loyal to me to be destroyed by
Haral’s hand. Too many have already lost their lives thanks to my brother. There can be no more. I have made up my mind, Jake. This is the way it is, and this is the way it will be. Do you understand?”
Jacob growled, placed his glass onto the coffee table and stormed across the room. He stopped at the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Sydney Harbor, his arms crossed, his shoulders bunched. Ezryn watched him, knowing he struggled to keep his demon sheathed. The American vampire had been his closest friend for almost four centuries, the brother he’d never had in Haral.
Ordered to the overlord’s court, Jacob had been accused by a rival vampire of systematically raping and butchering the females of his territory. Ezryn’s father—in a typical blood-drunk state—ordered Ezryn to execute the American without further question or evidence. Ezryn had refused, unwilling to commit such a sentence before discovering all the facts. Facts that, when revealed, not only exonerated General Ford, but proved the accusing vampire’s true motives—possession of Jacob’s territory and his new human wife. The American vampire had stood by Ezryn ever since, swearing not just gratitude, but fealty as well to the then-future overlord.
When the oracle proclaimed Haral first born, Jacob had been ready to go to war for Ezryn—an unwavering loyalty all too horrifically proved in blood.
Ezryn had been in his family’s castle witnessing his brother’s controversial ascension when Harry’s followers had attacked Jacob’s compound—a coward’s attempt to destroy Ezryn’s closest and most powerful ally. Jacob had destroyed five of them before they’d overpowered him. Five vampires decimated by a single one. The three left contained him, bound him in chains and made him watch as they butchered his entire staff, innocent people, human and vampire alike. They tortured them at length before raping his wife before his eyes. Three vampires who had all sworn fealty to Haral Navarr, the new overlord. Three vampires who held Jacob prisoner as they slowly cut his love to pieces.
Three vampires arrogant enough, stupid enough, to think they’d bested Ezryn Navarr’s general.
Three vampires who never saw the dark of night again.
Jacob never spoke of how he overcame them, but Ezryn had only had to look into his friend’s eyes when he’d found him to know Haral had made himself an enemy beyond his understanding. Ezryn was old, older than Jacob, and far more powerful, but thanks to Ezryn’s deranged brother, Jacob was now almost as dangerous.
Every time Ezryn found his friend staring at the small image of Melissa that Jacob kept in a white-gold locket by his lifeless heart, he thanked the Dark Ones Jacob was on his side.
What will he do when he learns of your sacrifice?
Ezryn ground his teeth. He would need to circumnavigate that problem before he killed the Principatus…somehow. Otherwise Jacob would begin a rebellion against Harry that might prove bloodier than the war Ezryn hoped his sacrifice would prevent.
Are you really going to do this? Kill a Principatus in an unprovoked attack? A female Principatus, at that? Won’t that single act make you as barbaric as you brother?
“I don’t like any of this.”
Jacob’s growl snapped Ezryn’s attention back to the here and now. He placed his untouched whiskey on the bar and moved to stand beside the brooding vampire at the window watching the yachts anchored on Sydney Harbor bob up and down with the rolling waves, their small lights like dancing stars on the black water. “I must admit it’s not how I saw the night progressing.” He gave Jacob a wide grin, trying to assuage his friend’s torment. “But think about it this way—I had nothing else planned to do tonight. What better way to spend the next few hours before dawn than hunting a Principatus?”
Jacob shot him a quick look. “If you think you’re hunting alone, you’re dumber than your brother.”
Ezryn shook his head. “I’m not letting you come with me, Jake. Not on this one.”
Jacob laughed, a short, sharp snort that made Ezryn want to grin and shake him at the same time. “And I’m not staying put.”
“Don’t push me, Jake.”
“Don’t be a moron then, Ezryn. Besides, I know something you don’t.”
Ezryn raised his eyebrows. Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave Jacob an expectant look. “Really? And what’s that?”
“The Principatus has a thing for strip clubs.”
Something heavy pressed on Ezryn’s chest and he narrowed his eyes, staring hard at his best friend. “How do you know this, General? According to my brother no one knows just who the Principatus is.”
Jacob grinned, the expression way too triumphant for Ezryn’s tastes. “Further proof your brother is an imbecile.”
“Spill the beans, Ford.”
Jacob’s grin stretched wider, his earlier irritation forgotten in the rare opportunity to rile his master. “Rumor. And terrified whispers. And you’re right, as is the fat imbecile unfortunately, no one does seem to know what she actually looks like. Most of the clientele at the Pleasure Pussy, are petrified she’s going to come in, wings spread, eyes glowing that freaky-shit white light and go biblical on their demonic asses.”
Ezryn studied his smiling friend, the disquieting pressure on his chest growing heavier. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before?”
Jacob snorted. “Why would I? Until Harry came you’d never indicated an interest in the insane sport of Principatus hunting. And as I said, it’s all been rumor. Who knew there really was a female Principatus in town? And I thought it was bad enough having Ven Watkins in our midst.” He shuddered at the name before giving Ezryn a smirk. “A female assassin of God watching skin in one of my clubs? Hell, I’ll never be able to look at my clientele the same way again.”
Ezryn flashed his teeth. “I’ve always wondered if a Principatus could be perverted. Seems like the answer to that is yes.”
Jacob rolled his eyes. “But in one of my clubs? I have a reputation to uphold.”
Ezryn laughed. “Well, let’s go play bouncer, shall we?”
“You shouldn’t be enjoying this, Ezryn.”
Jacob was right. He shouldn’t. So why was the notion of one of the Highest of Powers’ assassins indulging in live porn stirring something in him? Something dark and entirely…sexual? And what exactly did he do about it?
Chapter Two
He moved over her, sliding his mouth down her neck, along her collarbone. He skimmed his hand over her rib cage, the flat plane of her belly. He circled the shallow dip of her navel, a low laugh rumbling in his chest as she hitched in a quick breath.
The smug sound sent a warm flood of carnal lust into her sex, and she touched her tongue to her bottom lip, rolling her wrists against the silk rope binding her to the bed. By God, she wanted him to fuck her. Now. Hard.
Black eyes glinted in her bedroom’s dim light as he raised his head from her neck. “In good time, Principatus.”
His low murmur made her pussy gush with dampness again, as did the latent promise in his smoldering gaze. She sucked in another breath, fighting the ropes on her wrists even as their presence aroused her more.
Her lover chuckled again, a menacing sound far too arrogant for her peace of mind. Every time he came to her, every time he possessed her and used her for his own gratification, she tasted his conceit, his power. She knew nothing about him—except the way he claimed utter sexual possession of her body and made her wetter than any lover had before—but she had little doubt he was someone of power. Someone feared.
His dark stare held her as imprisoned as the ropes around her wrists. “Do you fear me, Principatus?”
She drew a shaky breath in through her nose. It would be pointless to lie to him. He knew her every thought. “Yes.”
With another smug laugh, he returned his mouth to her neck, his lips charting a slow path down her throat. “As it is, as it will be.”
He slid his hand—the one teasing her bellybutton—to the smooth curve of her sex, stroking his fingers over her sodden folds with taunting intent. She whimpered, lifting her ass from the bed to thru
st her pussy to his hand. By God, why did he torture her like this every time? Reduce her to a panting, begging creature of ravenous, unending lust?
Why did she let him?
Cool lips moved over her chest to her left breast, brushing the aching tip of her nipple. “Because you want this as much as I do,” he answered in a whisper. Sharp teeth scraped at her nipple, a mischievous bite that made her gasp and buck her hips harder against his teasing hand.
“Curse you,” she ground out, writhing on the mattress. Her pussy throbbed, heavy and full with a desire so potent she could barely breathe. “Just fuck me. Please.”
Her raw begging made him laugh, and he bit her nipple again, punishing her for her outburst. “You know what you have to say, Principatus.”
She shook her head, every fiber in her being straining for him. Wanting him. Oh, by the Powers and all things holy, she wanted him. It was wrong, more than wrong. It was insane, lunacy, but she wanted him all the same. Was lost without him. “I will not,” she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “I cannot.”
He slid his cool lips to her other breast, petting her pussy with lazy, tormenting strokes. “I know you want to feel my cock inside you, Inari Chayse.” His voice caressed her senses like icy mist. “All it will take is one word.” He slowly, slowly slid one finger into her sex, and she moaned, ramming her hips upward, taking that wriggling finger deeper into her wet heat. “One word, Principatus,” he continued against her breast, sliding another finger into her folds, “and it will be my cock fucking you, not my hand.” He took her nipple into his mouth and rolled its hard form between his teeth before sucking it with bruising force. She cried out, gripping the silk at her wrists in tight fists, pain and pleasure spearing through her.
Dark Embrace (Principatus) Page 3