Dark Embrace (Principatus) (23 page)

With one last look at his face—a face she’d seen forever in her dreams, a face she knew would haunt her forever—she turned and ran into the pitch-black park.

Her chest squeezed with relief when he didn’t follow her.

Her heart broke with pain.

Jacob watched the woman wander away from him, his mouth coated in sour disgust. He raised his right hand and swiped at his lips, his stomach roiling.

She’d begged him to bite her. Begged and pleaded, clung to his arms and offered him her body as well as her blood, anything to have him bite her.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to.

Which made him what? A wuss?

He suppressed a low growl, tracking the young woman as she ambled along the grass strip running parallel to the overlord’s compound, her skin-tight miniskirt riding up her black-stockinged thighs. She would have no memory of their encounter. He’d removed any trace of him from her mind with a gentle glamour. He couldn’t afford for her to divulge his presence at Fat Harry’s gate if she was stopped by any of the overlord’s guard, nor could he stand the idea of her broken, wretched grief at being rejected. Under the influence of his glamour, she’d openly spoken of her heart, her voice soft and trembling. So fragile. So human. She was sad and lonely and ached for someone to make her feel something apart from dejected contempt. She’d come looking for escape from her miserable life in the arms of the vampires she’d hoped resided in the mansion. She’d read all the books, you see. She’d read them and fallen in love with the vampires depicted on the pages. She wanted that existence, the eternal beauty the words of the book promised her. She wanted the romance so powerful it was beyond life, beyond definition. She wanted a vampire to save her. To turn her. To give her what she longed for with every fiber in her fleshy, overweight body that no one living would love.

He wasn’t that vampire.

He’d sent her on her way, sending a prayer to the Dark Ones she would find herself safe in her home before the sun rose.

He shouldn’t care—who was she to him, after all?—but he cared all the same.

With a lumbering, somehow sweet little skip, the woman—Alicia Whitehead of Parramatta—disappeared around the corner, gone from his sight.

Which left him no farther ahead in his plan.

Because you’re a wuss?

Jacob shook his head, turning back to the iron gates of the overlord’s compound. What did he do now?

Fat Haral had given Ezryn four nights to kill the Principatus before Haral began to slaughter Ezryn’s followers. Two of those nights had already passed; another was but a few hours from doing so. If he didn’t do something soon, Jacob knew his master would.

But you’ve seen him with the Principatus. You’ve seen him touch her. You’ve seen the way he looks at her. He’s never looked at another being with such undeniable desire. Do you really think he will kill her?

Narrowing his stare on the hulking mansion on the other side of the gates, its windows flooded with warm light, its garden shrouded in shadows, Jacob clenched his fists. Did Ezryn really have a choice?

Since the moment he’d met Haral, Jacob had always considered Ezryn’s brother an idiot. It was obvious the second born of the Navarr line lusted for power, but as far as Jacob—and many of the vampire race—had been concerned, it was fortunate it wasn’t his to wield. But then the fat bastard had fooled everyone and claimed the position of overlord, and now, fifty years later, he was to claim his brother’s life as well.

No matter which way he looked at it, Jacob could see no solution. He had given Ezryn his word he would not destroy the fat fuck, and regardless how much he wanted to end Haral’s pathetic existence, he could not break that word nor disobey his friend’s command.

He could not kill the overlord.

But the Principatus can.

The thought whispered through Jacob’s mind, soft and unexpected and very, very true.

A squirming knot of something close to hope filled Jacob’s chest. If the Principatus killed Haral, all their problems would be solved. If the Principatus killed Haral, Ezryn would be returned to the position rightfully his, and order could be restored to the vampire race. If the Principatus killed Haral…

The tight tension in Jacob’s chest squeezed tighter, and he turned away from the overlord’s compound.

He knew what to do now.

It was time to seek out Inari Chayse.

Chapter Seven

Ezryn slammed the door shut behind him, its solid thud offering no satisfaction as he stormed across the floor of his living room. He snatched a heavy crystal glass from the bar and splashed it full of one-hundred-year-old scotch, downing the liquid in a single mouthful. Curse it! What the hell was that woman doing to him?

He tossed the glass onto the bar and prowled the room, ignoring the deep-purple tinge on the dark eastern horizon outside. He’d never been so affected by a female, human or vampire, as he was by Inari Chayse. It was as though her very existence brought out the primitive, carnal demon he was, making him a creature of base lust and appetites. Yet at the same time it awoke in him the human he’d never been. It wasn’t just sexual pleasure either. She brought out the side of him he’d never let anyone see, not even Jake—the side that knew how important it was to laugh, to joke. A side his mother had tried to nurture in him even as his father had tried to beat it out of him. When he was with Inari, all he wanted to do was see her smile, see her laugh. See her move with pleasure on every level—intellectual, physical, emotional…

Emotional? Dark Ones, when was the last time he cared what anyone
felt
, let alone one of the Highest’s assassins? And yet, when he’d tracked her into the Royal Botanic Gardens and found her mid-battle with an empathic leech demon all he’d instantly wanted to do was save her, protect her from the hideous thing. Rip it to dismembered pieces for hurting her. Witnessing her transformation into her Principatus form, all he’d wanted to do was cheer her sheer power and terrifying beauty. Seeing the pain and confusion on her face as the leech spoke to her, all he’d wanted to do was take away her pain.

Watching the leech flee her, he knew all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and make her safe from the world.

Dark Ones, he’d never been so conflicted.

If he wasn’t thinking about making love to her, he was thinking about making her laugh, seeing her smile. If he wasn’t remembering the sweetness of her pleasure, he was remembering the beauty of her voice. What was wrong with him? What had she done to him?

And why hadn’t he gone after her when she’d run away from him? Why hadn’t he pursued her and made her tell him what was going on in her heart? Her soul?

Snarling, he dragged his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know. Every fiber in his cold body had wanted to. Not just wanted to, but demanded it. Demanded he go after her as she ran deeper into the park. Demanded he hold her, make love to her. Bite her. Not just make her his, but bind her to him. And him to her.

He let out a sharp hiss, his fangs extended at the idea of her blood flowing down his throat. Not the blood of a Principatus—
her
blood. Inari’s blood. Inari the woman.

So why did you let her go?

He poured another shot of whiskey, his grip on the squat crystal glass growing tight. He knew the answer to that question, but he didn’t want to ponder it. Nor its significance.

You let her go because she asked. Because you knew she couldn’t take any more hurt tonight, and as much as you wish it weren’t so, for whatever reason, being with you hurts her.

“So much for the big, bad vampire.” He pushed the glass aside without drinking a single drop. “You’re pussy whipped by a Principatus.”

The mocking jibe didn’t have the effect he’d wanted. Instead of igniting his ire, images of Inari filled his head. Inari in the park, shaking with grief. Inari glaring at him, telling him to fuck off. Inari beneath him on her bed, her body shuddering as orgasm after orgasm claimed her. Inari, Inari, Inari. Her touch, her taste, the way her lips parted to his soft kiss, the way her sweet pussy constricted around his shaft, the way she trembled at his arrogant domination…

His body tensed with fresh hunger and indecipherable need, and he growled. Damn, he wanted to take her again. Now. Hard. Slow. Savage and gentle. If it wasn’t sixty minutes until dawn broke he’d go straight back to that shoebox of an apartment she called home, throw her on the bed and make love to her again and again and again until she begged him to never leave her. Until she poured out the secrets of her soul and heart and pleaded with him to make her his forever. Until she screamed her feelings for him on the cries of her release, feelings he too—

“Dark Ones, Ezryn!” he burst out, killing the thought. He dragged his hands through his disheveled hair once more. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

He wasn’t. It was that simple. Centuries of priding himself on being above the base, sadistic behavior of his ancient family line and here he was, acting just as depraved and heinous and selfish as his baby brother.

The brother who has commanded you to kill her. Have you forgotten that? Three nights have passed already. If you don’t kill her by sunrise tomorrow, Haral will begin the slaughter of those vampires who stood up and proclaimed their loyalty to you.

The bleak thought brought his furious pacing to a halt, and he closed his eyes. His gut knotted. He’d been lost in her, lost in the happiness he felt when with her, and he’d denied what he was meant to do—murder her.

He’d never been bested in battle. Demon hunters, vampire slayers, his brother’s zealots—all had attacked him at one time or another and not once had he come close to being defeated. He was the first born of the First Family, regardless of what the oracle had proclaimed. He was the ultimate vampire, and yet if faced with fighting Inari, he doubted he would win. He’d seen the power of a Principatus in her. Not just when she was angry at him, but in the last few moments he’d witnessed of her fight with the empathic leech demon. In all his centuries, he’d never seen anything so terrifying and powerful. He’d faced Principatus before. Had been the target of more than one in his youth, during the decades before he denied his father’s deranged demands and refused to feed on innocent humans. He’d killed those Principatus regardless of their demonic heritage, but Inari Chayse was unlike any he’d seen before.

Why?

“I have no idea.” His muttered growl burst past his clenched teeth, harsh with frustration. Surely it wasn’t just because she was female? He’d never faced a female Principatus before, but he’d faced many female demon hunters and slayers. Thanks to Joss Whedon and his little blonde bit of goods, Buffy, just about every teenage girl with a vampire fetish considered herself a vampire killer, all hoping to find that fabled vampire with a soul who would rock her world. As ignorant as they were to the truth of his kind, some of those young women were quite good, but none was capable of defeating the very creatures that preoccupied them so much.

Killing a female hell-bent on destroying him was no different from killing a male. If they had a stake or blade in their hands and swung it at him with intent, it didn’t matter whether they had a penis or not—they were dead.

So why then, when Inari had threatened him with that silver stake of hers earlier tonight, had he let her live? Why was she different?

The memory of her pleasured screams of release echoed through his head. He wanted to hear those screams of undeniable pleasure again. Hear them and have his own join them.

Why? Because she was an amazing fuck? A conquest?

No. It was more than that. Something he couldn’t fathom.

Ezryn opened his eyes and studied the pre-dawn activity through his window. Water taxis skipped across the harbor like glowing dragonflies, rushing to pick up passengers or drop them off. Early sailors navigated their crafts through the dark waters, heading for the mouth of the harbor and the freedom of the open sea beyond it. A few windows radiated warm light in the luxury houses hugging the harbor’s edge, their occupants rising for a new workday or morning gym session. Fruit bats glided through the still-black sky, crisscrossing his line of sight, their sonar cries to one another a soft note in Ezryn’s ears. It was a sight he’d enjoyed often, a still calm he took in most mornings before retiring for the day. It normally relaxed him—the city he now called home coming awake, alive—but this morning it made no difference to his mood.

Why did Inari Chayse affect him the way she did? There had to be an answer. How could a Principatus reduce him to a creature of base lust and inexplicable emotion?

And why could he not kill her, no matter the consequences?

Haral’s ultimatum came back to him, and he bit back a curse. Four nights to destroy the Principatus or the slaughter began. Three nights had already passed. Three nights with the assassin in his hands. Three nights where he could have easily ripped her throat open and gorged himself on her blood, and he’d gorged himself on her sweet, delectable body instead.

A tight spasm claimed his cock and he ground his teeth. No, he hadn’t gorged himself on Inari’s body. The word gorged implied he was satiated, satisfied, but he wasn’t. Not even close. He wanted her again. And again. Right now, right this very instant, even with the memory of the tortured contempt in her eyes as she’d told him to leave her alone. He wanted her again with such hungering force his balls ached and his chest felt tight. The honey between her legs, the elixir in her veins, her softness, her strength. Her laughter, her anger. All of her. When it came to the feisty Principatus, he doubted he would ever be sated.