A shudder wracked through her, sending new heat into her limbs and the pit of her belly. The knot there twisted tighter, a wicked, squirming sensation that made her nipples pinch. Oh no, the Principatus in her didn’t want to fight. The Principatus wanted to mate.
The realization stole her breath. By the Powers, no.
Her head spun. This was not right. She was ex-succubus. Succubi did not mate. Succubi fucked and left. They took their fill and moved on. She was Principatus. Principatus did not mate. They killed and left. They terminated their target and hunted the next. She didn’t want to mate with anyone, let alone a vampire. It was impossible, and she would not let it be so.
Ezryn—and the crowd—watched her, all silent, all motionless.
She turned on her heel and, rocked by confusion and cowardice, ran away, the icy burn of transformation threatening to overwhelm her. The crowd melted from her path. The screech of the approaching siren pierced her ears as she burst into an impossible sprint. Her Principatus force—so close to release—surged through her. Or was it her succubus force? God help her, she couldn’t tell.
No. It’s not. It can’t be.
She ran faster, the bright, blinking lights of the strip blurring into a myriad of colored streaks. Her heart hammered and her blood roared. The sounds of Kings Cross at night became an indistinct hum of white noise.
She took one corner, another, another, the hot night air cool on her flushed face, the taste of sin and sex pervading every breath she took. She fled through dark, quiet back streets, moving at an inhuman pace, her body burning not just from sexual hunger but physical exhaustion. Her feet ached, her stiletto boots less than perfect for such a marathon. She didn’t care. Experiencing pain lessened the torturous longing in her core. Ten miles and ten flights of stairs later, she burst through the door to her home, charging through the small apartment until she reached her bedroom. Safe.
She threw herself down on the bed, the collection of black and red silk cushions she’d gathered over the centuries bouncing on the mattress as she rammed her face and fists into its soft surface. “Argh!” she screamed, squeezing her eyes shut. “This is not right!”
“Y’know,” a familiar voice noted behind her, and she froze, her already frantic heart leaping into new life, “for a Principatus, you’ve done a very bad job of keeping your home base a secret.”
Chapter Five
Jacob narrowed his eyes, locking his stare on what he suspected was the window of Inari Chayse’s bedroom. He’d seen her run past it in a harried sprint before she’d suddenly disappeared from view as if she’d thrown herself at something, possibly the bed.
What are the chances she’s not on that bed alone now, Jake? The unsettling question made him clench his fists.
Ezryn was inside the Principatus’s apartment, and he doubted the master vampire was ending the assassin’s life.
He let out a ragged sigh.
Following Inari first through Paddington in the hours just after dusk had revealed little he could use but unnerved him all the same. The Principatus was by far the most sensual creature he’d ever seen. She oozed sex, her every move sinfully seductive. She also oozed power. A calm menace seemed to hang about her, tainting the seductive rhythm of her body, like that of a dominatrix only tenfold.
He’d found himself wondering how many of the Principatus’s male targets had sported a hard-on when destroyed.
That rather absurd but perversely arousing thought had been crossing his mind when Ezryn had entered into his line of sight, walking up behind Inari on Oxford Street and slipping his fingers around her smooth upper arm.
The look on the Principatus’s face when she turned to his master was etched forever on his retina—shocked disbelief and unequivocal desire. And no matter how much Jacob wished it wasn’t so, that same desire burned on Ezryn’s face.
Jacob ground his teeth. It was a complication he didn’t need. It made what he’d planned far more…risky.
He’d lingered back in the teeming throng of pedestrians moving along Oxford Street, watching as a young vampire approached Ezryn. For a split second, he’d almost launched himself from his concealed position, ready to defend the true overlord against a possible threat. When he’d seen Ezryn laugh, Jacob had relaxed.
But only a little. A laughing Ezryn was not something he was used to. Not the completely relaxed, open laughter he’d witnessed from his master earlier tonight. It was as disconcerting as the desire Jacob had seen in his face, and all because of the Principatus, Inari Chayse.
Does it change your plans? Will you still kill her?
He swallowed, his mouth dry. It didn’t.
So what are you going to do, General Ford? Go upstairs now? While Ezryn is in her home? Stop him doing…whatever he is doing to her?
“Dark Ones,” he muttered. He shuffled his feet, curling his fingers into his palms. He couldn’t do that.
He was brave, but not that brave.
Narrowing his stare on the Principatus’s window, he considered his next move. He could stand here until Ezryn left, but something warned him his master wasn’t going to be exiting the place for some time, and as disturbing as that was, inaction disturbed him more.
With one long, final look at the open window, he slid into the shadows.
He traveled the dark, early-morning streets without a sound, his presence undetected by those he passed. He rarely used his vampire powers to move among humans anymore, but Fat Harry’s compound was on the other side of Sydney Harbor and he needed to get there fast.
Fifteen minutes later, he stood outside a mansion so overtly pretentious he couldn’t stop his sneer. It was perfect for the bloated, egomaniacal idiot and so very typical.
Pulling in a slow breath, Jacob tasted the air.
The slightest tinge of decay threaded through the sweet scent of Chinese Star Jasmine hanging heavy on the night, and he curled his lip. Yes, Fat Harry was in. There was no mistaking his vile stench.
He stepped up to the massive gates, wriggling his fingers as he studied their dagger-pointed, ten-foot iron pickets. Broaching them wouldn’t be difficult. What waited on the other side was another matter.
An image surfaced in his mind, an apparition of a memory he’d long fought to suppress. He fisted his hands, the image like a stake to his lifeless heart.
Melissa, his wife, in his arms…
It was her hair he always remembered first. Copper-spun silk that fell about her shoulders in a tumbled mess of curls. His wife had hated her hair, but he’d loved it. Its weight, its texture, the way it slid through his fingers like cool water, the way it turned a deep blood-red when wet. He would fall asleep every morning with its clean scent in his nose, his face pressed to the back of her neck, his arms curled around her slim body. He would drift off knowing even though she spent the daylight hours living her human life, when he woke she would be there waiting for him. And before he opened his eyes every night, that same clean scent would thread into his empty lungs and he would smile. It was always her hair he remembered first…
The silken strands clinging to his fingers, matted with blood. Her blood. She gazed up at him, her eyes, the color of the ocean on a cloudless day, glassy. Sightless. He’d shaken his head, held her to his chest. She was warm, but it was only the residue of the life once in her body. They’d ripped that life from her. Ripped it from her veins, her chest, feasting on her even as they raped her, over and over, her screams and cries met with laughs and cheers. And he’d been unable to save her. Unable to stop them. Haral’s zealots, sent by the newly ascended overlord, had butchered his wife, his love, and forced him to watch it all.
They’d bound him with silver-lined manacles, holding him captive as they violated her body and drained her veins, taking turns at her until she lay limp beneath them. And the last one…the last one to sink his dick between her legs had knotted his fists in her hair and tore two handfuls from her scalp, calling loyalty to Fat Harry as he did so. Her hair…his wife’s hair…
> The sound of soft footfalls to Jacob’s left shattered the tortured memory. He swung his head in their clumsy direction, sensing the human female before she stepped from behind a row of densely grown evergreen poplars.
“Are you a vampire?”
Her question, spoken in a trembling whisper, took Jacob completely by surprise. As did the ridiculously tight black mini-dress barely covering a young body far too plump to be considered healthy. She looked at him, large, round eyes ringed with smudged black makeup, her pasty-white skin marred by pockmarks and fresh acne, her lips painted black. Circling her right wrist were the words Edward Forever, written repeatedly in elaborate but amateurish script. Around her fleshy neck hung an ornate silver locket.
Jacob bit back a curse. Damn it, he knew exactly what this woman was.
Vamp groupie.
“A what?” he asked, making his voice sound incredulous even as the torment of Melissa’s memory frayed his patience bare.
“A vampire,” she repeated, taking a hesitant step toward him. “I heard there was a vampire living here. A whole nest of them. I…I wanted to…to…”
She didn’t finish, her black-lined eyes shimmering in the waning moon’s thin light.
A dull throb thumped in Jacob’s chest where his unbeating heart sat. Part anger, part grief. “Why do you want to know?”
The woman, barely in her twenties by the smell of her nervous sweat, tried to assume a haughty pose. “I want to offer myself. I want to become a…a…”
Her bravo deserted her and she stumbled back a step, her teeth catching her bottom lip.
Jacob studied her, his chest tight. The foolish child presented an opportunity he couldn’t ignore. Defenseless, naïve and stupid, she was perfect. All he needed to do was rip out her heart, bathe in her hot blood and let her petrified wails rise up to the heavens as he drained her dry, and he would be the Principatus’s next target.
With the girl’s death, he would have no need to initiate the confrontation. Inari Chayse would come to him.
“Are you…” The tremble was back in the woman’s whisper. The air grew cloying with her fear. And her hope. “Can you…”
He thought of his wife, of what had happened to her. Of what Haral had ordered to happen. He thought of a war between Principatus and vampires and the innocent human victims of such a war. He thought of the overlord on the other side of the iron fence beside him, sitting safe and smug in the belief he was untouchable.
He thought of Melissa and her blood-matted hair…
Jacob felt his fangs lengthen in his mouth, and he fixed the ridiculously dressed young woman with a steady gaze. “You really have no idea the danger you are in, do you?”
Inari snapped to her feet, her heart smashing into her throat. Fists clenched, she glared at the vampire standing at the foot of her bed. “Don’t you ever get the hint?” she snarled, the sight of Ezryn in her room, her home, infuriating her. And filling her with traitorous, wanton joy.
He grinned, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re sending mixed messages, assassin.”
She folded her own arms across her chest, not wanting him to see how quickly her nipples pebbled at his words. “How can you be in here? I extended no invitation.”
Ezryn cocked one of his dark eyebrows. “I opened the door and came in. I must admit, I am as surprised as you. Perhaps it has something to do with the magic between us.”
She pulled a dismissive face. “There is no magic.”
He grinned, and Inari bit back a whimper at the sudden glint of fangs. “I disagree. How else would I know you were on Oxford Street earlier this evening? How else would I know you needed my rescue in Kings Cross only a few moments ago?”
The questions sent hot anger twisting into Inari’s chest. She jutted out her chin, forcing an expression of sheer contempt on her face. “I didn’t need your rescue. You think I couldn’t handle a few human males?”
“I have to wonder,” he murmured, standing directly in front of her before she could register the fact he’d moved. His thighs brushed hers. His chest pressed against her breasts. His eyes held hers in a hypnotic gaze Inari felt all the way to her very center. “Considering your complete failure to handle me.”
Without breaking eye contact, he placed his palms square on her chest and shoved her backward, driving her flat onto the mattress. He slammed his right knee between hers, pushing her legs apart as he bent over her, grabbing her wrists before she could strike out at him and pinning them to the bed. Hot tension knotted in Inari’s belly. Damn, he was quick, even for a bloodsucker.
“See?” He grinned again. “I can shove you around too. Of course, I make sure you have a nice soft landing, unlike you.” He slid his knee farther up her inner thigh. “The sidewalk is not the most comfortable of landings. My ass still hurts, by the way.”
She gave him a melodramatic pout. “Oh, poor baby.”
His eyes flickered with red heat. “Going to make you kiss it better later.”
The promise made her belly knot some more—and her pussy constrict. “In your dreams,” she snarled, wishing her body would behave itself.
“Tell me,” he said, his grin turning smug, “have you ever had a vampire lover before, Principatus?”
Inari’s sex constricted again. By the Powers, what was wrong with her? “If you think I’m going to answer that, you’re a moron.”
With a sudden jerk, Ezryn yanked her arms above her head and captured both her wrists in one fist. “There are many, many answers you will give me over the course of the night, Inari Chayse.” He gazed down into her face, his black eyes dancing with that same smoldering red heat she’d seen in the strip joint. “Let’s start with this one.” He trailed his free hand down her arm, over the upward thrust of her breasts to the top button of her vest. “Just how hard do you want me to fuck you?”
Inari narrowed her eyes, doing everything she could to ignore the molten pit of hunger her sex had become at his question. “Get your hands off me, vampire, before I rip your unbeating heart from your chest and shove it down your throat.”
Ezryn cocked one very dark eyebrow. “That hard?” He fingered the button with a cheeky flick before tearing her vest open. Her breasts fell free and she gasped, arching her back. He traced the puckered nipple of each one with slow precision, watching his finger’s path with smoldering eyes. “Let’s start then, shall we?”
He dropped his head, crushing his mouth to hers with brutal force. He plunged his tongue between her lips, battling with hers before Inari realized she’d opened her mouth to his assault. She growled and bucked beneath him, desperate to free herself.
Ezryn lifted his head and chuckled at her actions, skimming his fingers from her breasts to the waistline of her leather pants. “Do you really want me to let you go?” He dipped his fingers beneath the snug line of her trousers and stroked the smooth curve of her mons. “Do you?”
Inari stared up at him, the pulse in her neck a thumping cannon.
No. She didn’t.
Shamed heat flooded her face and she turned her head to the side, the fire in her sex blazing hotter. Tighter.
“Oh, Inari,” Ezryn murmured, his voice like velvet smoke on her flushed flesh. “You should not present me with such a beautiful neck.” He tightened his fist on her wrist and Inari felt his weight shift between her legs. “Not when you smell like heaven and look like sin.”
Cool lips brushed the side of her throat, just below her ear, the contact followed immediately by the gentle flick of the tip of his tongue. Inari hissed in a breath, her sex constricting on a cock that wasn’t there, every muscle in her body snapping tight. She rolled her head, pushing his mouth from her neck with a sudden blow of her chin just as she jackknifed her legs up around his hips and locked her ankles behind his back. “Bite me and I’ll pull your fangs out.”
Ezryn looked down into her face and chuckled again, the action sending rumbles of duplicitous sensations through Inari. “You say the nicest things, Principatus.” I
n a dark blur, he returned his mouth to her neck, his lips nibbling on her flesh. “And your skin tastes so…so pure. And yet at the same time so dirty. As if the demon you once were still lingers in your new soul.”
Inari sucked in a sharp breath. Ezryn’s soft words ignited her fury. And her fear.
The demon she once was.
Succubus. Did he know? Was that why…
“Tell me,” Ezryn rasped against her cheek. “What kind of demon were you before your rebirth? Because I want to know. So very, very much.”
Inari lashed out, smashing her fist into the side of Ezryn’s head. He crashed sideways, rolling from her body. Without pause, ignoring the screams of denial in her core, she scrambled to her knees, plunged her hand under the pillow closest to her and closed her fingers around the long, silver stake she always kept there. Just in case of emergencies.
“What are you going to do with that, little girl?”
Ezryn’s growl snapped her around. She locked her stare with his, the stake icy against her palm. “Turn you to dust.”
His fangs glinted at her as he gave her a small grin. “Really?”
He chuckled, stepping back from the bed and lowering the zipper of his fly. His cock jutted from the opening, thick and hard, and she couldn’t stop the whimper in her throat as she watched him toe off his boots and slide his trousers down over his hips. He kicked them aside, standing before her naked save for his open shirt. He held his arms out from his sides, his grin growing wider. “I will make you a deal, Inari. You stake me with that shiny silver thing in your hand, and I will willingly turn to dust. I won’t even complain when you suck me up with your vacuum cleaner.” His eyes twinkled as he took a step toward her, his fangs catching her bedroom’s muted light. “But if I take it from you before you can do so, you will surrender your body to me and let me do with it what I will.”
Inari’s sex constricted at his words, and her breath caught in her throat. “And that’s it? No questions? No blood?” Are you even considering this, Inari? Are you?
Dark Embrace (Principatus) Page 10