Dark Becoming (An Ema Marx Novel Book 3)

by J. D. Brown

  “Never mind,” I said, while pacing the room. “I’m a bad example. My point is some people do grow up without fathers and turn out perfectly fine.”

  Jesu rose from the bed and smiled, his grin so wide, it dimpled his cheek and crinkled the corners of his eyes. His cheer caught me off guard and I paused. He closed the distance, lifting his hands to cup my face and comb his fingers into my hair. He pressed his lips to my forehead in a quick kiss.

  “First of all,” he said, “you are not a bad example. Second, I am glad you do not view Jalmari as someone deserving of such a miraculous gift.”

  I snorted. That’s what he chose to call the seed growing inside me, a gift?

  “I only wanted to know what, if anything, you desired of him.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  He nodded. “We should go upstairs.”

  A thought crossed my mind and I snatched his wrists. “Jesu, I don’t want anyone to know. Not yet.”

  Jesu scanned my face and his brow pinched together. “This is not an easy thing to hide, Ema. You will need a medic for routine ultrasounds, checkups, vitamins.”

  “Maria can help with that, just don’t tell anyone else, okay? I don’t want Nikolas to know.”

  Jesu frowned as a question flashed across his features. I worried he would press the issue and demand to know my reasons, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he swallowed hard and then nodded in agreement.

  I sighed in relief, glad I didn’t have to explain myself just yet.

  Bridget

  Thwack, thwack, thwack!

  Sweat slicked my hairline as I spun around and swung the wooden training sword in a wide arc. The shaft sliced through the air and hit the wicker dummy square in the shoulder.

  Thwack!

  A perfect follow-through.

  Cat calls came from a few of the braver soldiers lingering near the door to the training room. My eye twitched in annoyance. Little boys and their testosterone. Can’t a woman break a sweat without being a sex object? I could bed any one of those drooling, half-brained, wanna-be warriors. Any of them would be so lucky. Yet, I could not have the one man I wanted more than anything on this earth. The one man I loved.

  Watching Jesu kiss Ema hurt, and it never got easier. The real kicker was that I liked Ema—when she wasn’t swapping spit with my man. She had a feisty sprit that reminded me of a younger version of myself. We could have been friends. Something I haven’t had in long time. Why couldn’t she just continue to resist Jesu? I was so close to getting him back.

  But no…

  Thwack!

  That greedy…

  Thwack!

  Little…

  Thwack!

  Tramp…

  Thwack!

  Had to snatch Jesu…

  Thwack!

  Right out from under my nose.

  Thwack, thwack, thwack!

  Didn’t she realize what she was doing to him?

  I brought the sword crashing down on the dummy’s head. As soon as the wood hit, I lifted my arms and did it again, and again, and again—no dexterity, no technique. The wicker crunched under each blow, until the dummy’s head caved completely and the sword hit the metal rod holding the dummy erect. The wooden blade cracked in half and the top portion flew across the room. Caught off guard by my weapon breaking, I finally stopped. My lungs beat against my ribs, gulping in air, and my face burned with sweat, but it wasn’t enough. I could still feel it; the prickly sting of tears behind my eyes. I pulled my lower lip between my fangs and bit down until I tasted blood.

  “Je ne vais pas pleurer pour lui!”

  In a last-ditch effort, I raised the blunt remainder of the sword and then stabbed the wicker man in the chest. Releasing the sword, I lifted my right leg and smashed the sole of my boot against the hilt, plunging the full length of the wooden blade into the dummy’s heart.

  The air thickened as half a dozen onlookers winced. “Sie ist verrückt,” they whispered.

  I whipped around and glared at them. They scuttled out of the room like dung beetles. Nothing threatened a man more than a woman who could kick their cul.

  Maybe I am crazy. I lowered my gaze and rubbed the dull ache in my upper arms. That’s what love does—it drives you crazy.

  Maria’s scent wafted into the room. I glanced at the entrance as she appeared in the doorway. She narrowed her gaze. “What did that poor sparring mannequin ever do to you?”

  I rolled each shoulder in turn and then cracked my knuckles. “Just keeping in shape. Not my fault if zee equipment isn’t up to par.”

  Maria wrinkled her nose. “Go home, Bridget. There is nothing for you here.”

  I ground my fangs together and turned away. “I am home, old woman. I am a de Loup. Nikolas is my king.”

  “Don’t act clever,” she said.

  My fingers curled into fists. “Why don’t you go home with your prince? I doubt anyone here has use for a vampyre your age.”

  She clicked her tongue in a tut tut manner. “It isn’t wise to undermine experience.”

  I rolled my eyes. The number of people I’ve murdered probably matched hers. I was sired during a war. She wanted to talk about experience? Bring it on.

  The soles of Maria’s shoes pattered against the dirt floor as she crossed the room, closing the distance between us. “There was a time,” she said gently, “when I thought you could be the one to end Jesu’s suffering.”

  “Don’t,” I said, turning to face her.

  “I do care for you, Bridget, but you must let Jesu go.”

  “Liar! You couldn’t care less. But zis isn’t about me. If Ema dies, it will rip Jesu apart, yet you go along with it anyway. You are a traitor.”

  Maria lifted her chin and narrowed her gaze. “I have every reason to believe Ema can win this.”

  “When she falls,” I growled, “and she will fall—I will be there to pick up zee pieces and mend his heart.”

  Maria scoffed. “Even if something were to happen to Ema, Jesu would not go back to you. Do yourself a favor, darling, and move on.”

  “C'est ce que vous pensez.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. “Nothing, darling.”

  Maria leaned forward, as though to make a retort, but a phone rang, interrupting her. She growled a curse word in Greek and then plucked a small cellular phone from her skirt pocket. She glanced at the number on the screen and scowled before flipping it open.

  I took the opportunity to walk away. Maria was little more than a pebble in my shoe. In fact, she was more like the training dummy—something I could use to vent my anger on, a divergence from the pain of the real problem. Maria underestimated my relationship with Jesu. She assumed I hadn’t yet confronted him about my suspicions concerning Ema. She thought I had spoke to her about it first when, in truth, I’d gone straight to Jesu with the knowledge.

  When he and Ema stayed at the R.E.D. hotel in Berlin, we had many opportunities to talk, and I took advantage of every single one. Jesu wouldn’t admit it in words, but I’d known him a long time, and I could see the truth written all over his face. He already knew Ema wasn’t the same girl from his premonition.

  He fell prey to the idea of her anyway, and I couldn’t blame him. Defying an order from one’s sire was an impossible feat. The longer the vampire tried to avoid it, the more it drove them insane. Jesu had tried for thousands of years to find the prophesied girl and live out his mother’s final command. For that reason alone, I understood how he could be blindsided by desperation. He saw what he wanted to see in Ema; that he had finally found her, the girl his mother compelled him to find. But the power of the sire bond is stronger than trickery or denial, and Jesu was no exception. He knew in his gut he was wrong. I’d bet my life that he felt the pull to continue the search, even now.

  More importantly, though, when Ema thwarted his courtship, Jesu did come back to me. All I had to do was stand there with open arms. I saw the longing in his eyes. He wanted so
badly to rekindle what we once had.

  If only that pute stayed away.

  When Ema changed her mind and threw herself at Jesu, it became increasingly easier for him to slip back into denial. That’s why I went to Maria for help, but telling her ended up being a mistake. Never trust a vampyre. Especially an ancient one.

  I ascended the tower stairs to the guest wing. Jesu’s scent filled the space. I inhaled the manly musk of earth, rain, and testosterone. My heart ached with yearning and a familiar emptiness welled in the pit of my stomach. I lifted a hand to the stone wall to brace myself.

  If I could just talk to him again, just once, without her around.

  But Ema’s scent surrounded his like mold on cheese. My lip curled over my fangs and determination rang anew. I will save Jesu. Even if I have to do it myself.

  Chapter 4

  Jesu tugged off his shirt and let it fall to the floor. He wrapped his calloused hands behind my elbows and pulled me against his smooth bare chest. “Shower with me.”

  God, I wanted to. I lost myself in the scent of spring rain and fresh grass while my gaze drowned in a sea of pale blue skin, somewhere between his lush collar bone and sculpted abs. Resisting him was nothing short of a challenge, but I bit the inside of my check and tried anyway. “You go ahead.”

  Jesu touched the side of my neck. “You are caked in your own blood.”

  “I’ll change my shirt.” Because I didn’t trust myself, I marched out of the bathroom and went straight to the dressing nook. I waited near the wardrobe until I heard the shower faucet turn on. I sighed in relief and then opened a drawer and selected a T-shirt. I still wasn’t ready for Jesu to see the scar on my navel. He’d freak. Worse, he’d blame himself. Why didn’t the stupid thing heal? The wounds on my neck were long gone, but Apollyon’s brand remained.

  I yanked off the blood-stained top and then pulled the clean one over my head. Since I had nothing better to do, I changed my jeans and socks too, and then re-brushed my hair and pulled it into a high ponytail. I went to the bathroom and found a washcloth, which I dampened in the sink. I wiped the steam from the mirror and inspected my neck. No scabs. No bruises. Not even a scar. I set to work scrubbing off the little bits of dry blood that clung to the fine hairs of my skin.

  I was almost done when the shower curtain swooped open. A cloud of steam fogged my reflection. I turned to find Jesu standing under the shower stream, fully exposed. The water pelted his lean Adonis body. Droplets ran the length of his long torso, gliding over the V of his hips, ending somewhere in the jungle of his pubic hair. His penis stood at full attention and my gaze widened as heat pooled in my groin.

  Jesu arched his brow and grinned. “Are you sure you do not want to join me?”

  That clever minx! I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. “Sorry. Already changed my clothes.” Though I might need a change of underwear now.

  He chuckled then shut off the water. I opened my eyes to the sight of him grabbing a towel and scrubbing his jet-black hair. The upward motion of his arms caused his skin to stretch thin over his ribs, pushing the muscles in his obliques to the forefront as he arched his back.

  My gaze roamed over every inch of taut wet skin and my mouth dried. I memorized every smooth plane, reveled in every sensual dip, counted every freckle. I wanted to run my fingers over his abs, through the curly locks of his pubes, and take his masculinity into my hands. Oh yeah, I definitely need fresh panties.

  Jesu lowered the towel, caught sight of my ogling, and barked a laugh. “If that was what you wanted, then you should have showered. Now we have no time. Maria told me you are expected at supper.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek and forced myself to look at his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He scoffed and stepped out of the tiled stall. “Right. The next time I ask you to shower with me, I will remove my pants first.”

  I rolled my eyes, but it was a front. Underneath, my skin burned with longing. Liquid heat pooled between my legs and my knees weakened. I slid my hands behind my back to grip the edge of the sink.

  Jesu noticed the motion and cocked his brow—along with another key part. Grinning, he closed the gap between us in one wide step and then crushed his lips to mine. Our tongues met in a sensual, yet urgent glide. My hands instantly went for his hair, fingers tangling in the long damp locks as I kissed him back with everything I had. His hands went to the button of my jeans and popped it open. The zipper went next and then he tugged the denim, along with my panties, down my thighs. Our mouths broke apart to suck in much-needed oxygen. My lips tingled, missing his heat, but my lungs were grateful.

  So were my eyes, as I caught his wild gaze—so green and full of fire. An impish smile dimpled his cheek. Anticipation raced through my blood and my breath hitched as he grabbed my bare hips and lifted me off my feet, onto the edge of the sink. He yanked the jeans to my calves then tore them from my ankles. I quickly tugged on the hem of my top, making sure it kept my belly covered. Jesu righted himself and then stepped inside the circle of my dangling legs.

  Shirt safely in place, I took his hands and guided them toward my back. Jesu happily complied, watching me from under half-closed lids. I ran my hands over his smooth chest and then raked my nails against his shoulders while sliding them around his neck where I tugged on a damp lock of hair, pulling him closer so that I could reclaim his mouth. We kissed slowly then built into it. I pulled his lower lip between my teeth and he hissed. Gripping my hips, he pushed himself between my legs and entered. I gasped as he plunged deep, burying himself to the base. I crossed my legs over the small of his back and pressed my heels against his ass, encouraging him. He planted one hand firmly against the end of my spine, the other against the wall beside the mirror, and pumped. My eyes rolled back and I moaned, reveling in the heat of his body as he filled me again and again.

  My heart pounded in my eardrums, followed by the echo of a second thump-thump. Our pulses sped and slowed, until the tempos matched. Our breaths punched through the steam, one exhaling while the other inhaled. My thighs tightened against his waist, rocking with the motion of his hips. I planted a palm against the faucet and bucked against him, matching his pace. My other hand dug into his shoulder blade and he growled while greedily assaulting every inch of my mouth with his tongue.

  Tension mounted and my insides clenched. The bathroom walls, the porcelain amenities, the towels and toiletries, all of it seemed to come alive, vibrating with a gentle life force that beat in unison with our own pounding hearts, bearing witness to our love. It was so beautiful, I wanted to weep. Yet… I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

  A loud crack shook me from my revere and my gaze flew to the sink. Jesu grunted. He cupped my bottom, lifted me off the sink, and turned to the side, where he pressed my back against the wall. A large chuck of the marble counter crashed to the floor. What the heck? I didn’t have time to worry about it. Jesu pushed against me, and my eyes rolled back. The brace of the wall gave us more traction and Jesu surged deep. A whimper rode my panting breath as he plunged again and again, until my muscles constricted and my back arched. Tremors exploded from my core, and Jesu buried himself one final time. His husky moan pooled against my forehead as my release gave him the final pull he needed, and he came undone.

  We stood like that—my back pressed against the wall, clinging to a beautifully naked Jesu while he leaned into me—catching our breaths. The room stopped pulsing, and our own racing hearts soon returned to their normal rested rhythm. Jesu nuzzled the tip of his nose against my neck. I tensed, suddenly realizing what had been missing before. I wet my lips and contemplated voicing my thoughts, but decided against it.

  “I love you,” Jesu whispered.

  “I love you, too.”

  “I apologize if that was quick, but—”

  I shook my head. “Don’t be sorry. No time, right?”

  He chuckled. “Right.”

  Jesu straightened and then gently p
ulled away.

  I tugged the hem of my top, being careful not to let it ride upward as I slid to my feet. “I think we broke the sink.”

  He glanced at the broken marble littering the tiled floor, then at himself. “I think I need another shower.”

  Jesu and I made it to the dining hall an hour before dawn—breakfast time to the rest of the world. I was still getting used to the reversed meal terminology. The windowless construction of the castle and general disregard for sleep didn’t help matters. I often forgot the time.

  The der Wölfe family sat around the table enjoying their supper with King Nikolas and his voluptuous wife, Cecelia, at the center. Their eldest son, Brinnon, and youngest daughter, Sara, sat next to their mother. Tancred of course parked next to his king. The length of the dining table could accommodate most of the soldiers and servants too, but they didn’t join us. Instead, they took glasses of blood with them while passing through.

  I tried my best to ignore the salty metallic aroma, but the scent pulled at my nerves, especially here, where no humans were present. If one had been lurking around, I could’ve sucked their energy out of the air and been satisfied with that for a while. Instead, my gaze locked on the crystal carafe and I salivated. Ingesting blood caused negative effects that, according to the others, were only seen in Upioran vampyres. The effects were similar to being drunk; lowered self-control, increased desire to hunt, the inability to keep my mouth shut and not embarrass myself. I referred to that unhinged animalistic part as my Nephilim side, because that’s what vampyres were; half Nephilim and half human. My Nephilim side reared its ugly horns against my gut while I took a seat cross from Cecelia.