Dark Embrace (Principatus) (24 page)

Why?

Ezryn pressed his palms against the window and stared blankly at the view below, the heat of the approaching summer dawn beyond the glass warming his cold flesh.

He had to know. Was it just because his brother wanted her dead? Or was it something else? Something far too abstract to consider?

Turning from the window, he crossed his living room. He had to know.

Even if it meant tempting the sun’s burning rays.

Exactly twelve minutes and thirty-four seconds later, he stood on an empty and dark Bondi Beach, a row of powerful arc-sodium streetlights meters behind him stretching his shadow into a distorted shape along the famous stretch of sand. The night sky hung overhead, its reassuring black expanse marred by a bruised-purple smudge on the Eastern horizon. He studied the cool color, the salty tang of the Pacific slipping into his nose and stinging his sinuses. By Ezryn’s reckoning—and his internal vampire awareness of the sun’s global position—he had just short of ten minutes before dawn broke and he ran out of time.

He slid his stare from the worryingly lighter sky to the tall man with broad shoulders and shaggy blond hair strolling casually from the surf. He noted the dripping surfboard tucked under one muscled arm, the long, lean legs covered in a skin-tight black wetsuit, the water streaming down his wide, hairless chest in glistening rivulets.

An uncomfortable foreboding fluttered in Ezryn’s chest, and he swallowed, keeping his gaze on the approaching surfer despite the want to look away. The very nature of the man’s activities was like a threatening challenge, one he was in no mood to deal with.

“Haven’t you heard the sun’s not altogether favorable to your kind?” the man commented, the vowels almost a low purr, the harsh consonants close to a growl. He walked passed Ezryn, not even remotely flicking him an interested look, nor an indifferent one. “I’d recommend getting your ass back indoors unless you’ve got some serious shit sunblock tucked away in the pockets of those designer jeans.”

Ezryn turned, fixing a hard stare at the other man’s back as he continued walking farther up the beach. “I need to know about a Principatus.”

A casual snort of mirth followed Ezryn’s statement. The man neither slowed down nor changed direction, his graceful footfalls barely indenting the soft sand with each step he took. “And why would I tell you anything like that, Ezryn Navarr?”

Ezryn bit back a frustrated hiss. “Because if you don’t there will be war between the vampire nation and the Agents of the Order.”

The muscles in the man’s back tightened and he stopped. The fingers gripping the surfboard grew tense, the knuckles white. He turned, his eyes catching the streetlights’ glow for a split second, their sharp green depths flaring with iridescent light. His lips stretched in a cold smile, the action revealing fangs, long and pointed. “Now, you know better than to make threats like that, blood-sucker.”

Ezryn bared his own fangs, every nerve ending on edge. It wasn’t just adrenaline surging through him at that moment. It was borderline fear. Even with the power and strength of his ancient bloodline, what he was doing would be considered suicide by most of his kind. “And you know me well enough to know I don’t make threats, Watkins.” He cocked an eyebrow, refusing to be intimidated. He was Ezryn Navarr, after all. He wasn’t just some bleeder flexing his muscles. “And by the way, who are you calling a blood-sucker?”

Ven Watkins, supreme Principatus and ex-vampire, gave him a steady look, his eyes green chips of ice. The knuckles on the hand gripping his surfboard grew whiter. His jaw muscles bunched. “Be careful, Navarr.” His voice was low, his accent thicker. “I believe you may be close to pushing our friendship somewhat.”

Ezryn nodded, his own gaze unwavering. “True. But then we’ve never really been close, have we, Ven? Even before your ‘rebirth’? We may both have been vampires, but you kept to yourself, too concerned with looking out for your brother. In fact, I think I recall you telling me to ‘piss off’ out of the country at one stage. Wasn’t that the night I met your girlfriend?”

A shimmer of black rippled over Watkins’s face, and Ezryn had to stop himself taking a hurried step backward. This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. Not at all.

How did you think it would go? Did you think the guy would offer to buy you coffee? Maybe invite you to share breakfast? You do know who you’re talking to here, don’t you?

Ezryn squared his shoulders a little, refusing to break eye contact.

Ven Watkins had once been a vampire, a
good
vampire, in Ezryn’s opinion, but something about the Australian had always troubled him. An aura of immense power and untold force. The first time Ezryn had met the young vamp, he’d been surprised to discover he was a bleeder. The man radiated not just the strength of a born vampire, but the icy potency of a master. It came as no surprise to Ezryn when he’d learnt Ven had become a Principatus, although what happened to elevate the vamp to an assassin of God, Ezryn didn’t know. There were whispers amongst Sydney’s paranormal world of deals with the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse, Death herself. Ezryn could only consider himself fortunate he and Ven had never been forced to square off.

It was rumored Watkins could kill a demon of any genus with a simple thought—if he was inclined to do so. Ezryn didn’t doubt it. He’d seen what Ven Watkins the Principatus could do, the assassin dealing with a blood-frenzied horde of
cambion
who’d decided to assault a busload of tourists during the last Sydney Mardi Gras. It had not been pretty, and if Ezryn was capable of having nightmares, he believed what he’d witnessed that night would have left him sleepless for some time.

They had an uneasy truce, he and Watkins, and tolerated each other’s existence in Sydney with what came close to studied indifference. But Ezryn had little doubt that truce would dissolve with just the wrong word or action. And then Ven would render his existence null and void.

A chill rippled up Ezryn’s already icy spine.

It was an unnerving thought, especially given his current mission.

He needed to be careful, no matter how much he wanted answers. When it came to the decimation of demons, Watkins was close to God-like—his power was unfathomable and no one escaped him. Ever. Which meant Ezryn couldn’t afford to antagonize him now.

Can’t afford to have your unbeating demon heart ripped from your chest, either.

“I know there is no reason to trust what I say, Steven.” He kept his voice calm and composed, the use of the supreme Principatus’s first name deliberate. And risky. “But this is important. For both our kinds.”

A mocking expression fell over Watkins’ face. “Both our kinds?”

Ezryn didn’t say a word, all too aware he walked a dangerous tightrope.

Watkins regarded him, nothing about his stance or body language hinting at what went on behind his piercing green eyes. For all Ezryn knew, the Principatus could have been thinking about what he was going to have for breakfast.

Me?

He flicked a quick look over his shoulder at the sky behind him. The cold, purple smudge had spread to a golden-pink hue, the disconcerting coloring rising higher from the horizon. He forced his muscles to relax. Dawn was almost upon him. If he didn’t get the answers he needed soon, he’d be toast. Literally.

As if hearing his thoughts—
maybe he does, Ezryn. You don’t know everything about him
—Watkins moved his gaze passed Ezryn, taking in the hint of sunlight low in the night sky behind Ezryn’s back. “Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day, doesn’t it?” He returned his steady gaze to Ezryn, his face expressionless.

Ezryn bit back a growl, his control close to snapping. He’d had enough of being played with. Watkins wasn’t a cat, and he sure as hell wasn’t a defenseless mouse. “Curse it, assassin! Either agree to tell me what I need to know or try and rip my heart out.” He took a step forward, his fists clenched, his fangs growing longer, readying to be attacked. “Either way, get it over and done with.”

Watkins raised his eyebrows, what almost looked like a grin playing with his mouth. He slid the surfboard from under his arm and stabbed its tail into the sand beside his bare feet before loosely draping an arm around its edge. “War, you say?”

Ezryn nodded, jaw clenched. War would mean little to Ven Watkins—the vampire-cum-supreme Principatus was likely to survive any battle between vamps and the Agents of the Order. But despite the mystery surrounding him, one thing was known—whatever brought about the transformation from vampire to Principatus, Ven Watkins now had a certain distaste for mindless slaughter and destruction, regardless of the species of corpse. Since his transformation, he’d dealt with more than one demon and hell spawn with such icy, sardonic calm few dared enter Sydney anymore, but of late he was, for the want of a better word, retired.

Like everything else surrounding Watkins, no one knew why and no one dared ask, but the Principatus spent most of his days on the end of a wax-coated surfboard riding the waves at Bondi and most of his nights sliding between the sheets as he moved over and into whatever gorgeous female he desired.

“Please,” Ezryn said, the word like bitter essence on his tongue. “I have to know.”

Watkins narrowed his eyes, and Ezryn couldn’t escape the feeling he was being weighed and measured. “Name?”

He swallowed. “Inari Chayse.”

Even the sound of her name passing his lips made Ezryn’s blood heat, despite the dangerous position he was in. He stared at the Principatus, unable to miss the lightening shadows stretching over the beach behind him.

A gentle heat teased his back, the rays of the rising sun beginning to warm the cool night air around him. He resisted the urge to fidget. Damn it, he was running out of time. Quickly.

“Inari Chayse,” Watkins repeated. His green eyes flickered with an enigmatic light, and an icy finger of nervous apprehension stabbed into Ezryn’s gut.

Fuck, what is going on? Why is he being so obtuse? So—

“What do you want to know about her?”

Ezryn swallowed again, the pit of his gut tightening.
Why I can’t stop thinking about her? Why all I want to do is claim her? Why I want nothing more than to bind her to me? Make her mine and lose myself forever in her—

A cold grin pulled at Watkins’s mouth, a glimpse of wickedly sharp fangs peeking from behind his lips. “Ah,” he said. “I see.”

And with that, he chuckled once, pulled his surfboard from the sand, tucked it under his arm again and walked up the beach toward the street with long, comfortable strides.

Ezryn blinked. What in all the levels of hell?

Knowing he was pushing his luck, he blocked Watkins’s path. ”What in the name of the Dark Ones does
Ah, I see
mean?”

Watkins gave him a level look, his pale eyes shimmering white for a split second. White. A Principatus’s eyes. But Ezryn didn’t budge. He couldn’t. He needed to know.

“Inari Chayse,” Watkins said, his voice as controlled as his gaze. “Ex-succubus. Over three hundred years old. And one of the most lethal Principatus I know. You’d do best to stay away from her if you want to continue existing.”

He began walking again and Ezryn stepped out of his way, a strange pressure wrapping around his chest. Did he just hear…?

“Oh, and by the way,” Watkins threw over his shoulder without slowing his pace, “my family is greatly indebted to her, so I’d be a touch miffed if something were to happen to her, if you understand my meaning.”

He didn’t wait for Ezryn’s response, turning away from him as if he no longer mattered and moving across the sand.

Ezryn stood motionless, watching him go, one word replaying over in his head. One word echoing in his mind. Repeating it in a low whisper louder than a scream.

One word. Only one.

Succubus.

He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his hands over his face.

Succubus.

A hot beat thumped in his temple, his throat. He dragged his nails through his hair.

Succubus.

He drove his nails into his scalp, piercing his flesh. Damn. He’d been made a fool. A fucking fool.

Succubus. A female sex demon who feeds on the sexual energy of her victims, seducing them until they are enslaved to her by their lust and fucking them until they were drained of their life force. Mating with them over and over and over and over again.

Succubus.

“One more thing.” Watkins’s distant call jerked Ezryn out of his dark stupor and he stared after the Principatus, black rage snaking through his very veins. “Tell your brother if I so much as even see him on my streets while he’s here, I’ll come out of retirement.”

Ezryn sucked in a sharp hiss, his black rage turning to a darker, dense fury. He was right. The bastard Principatus
could
read his thoughts.

There came a low chuckle from Watkins’s direction, the man moving over the loose sand with graceful ease, his arm hugging his now-dry surfboard with casual comfort. “
You
should probably
think
about getting out of the sun soon.” He tossed Ezryn a quick, smug grin over his shoulder, never slowing his stride. “Just a friendly safety tip from me to you. Agent to bloodsucking demon.”

Ezryn spun around, his attention snapping immediately to the east, his throat growing thick at the sight of the horizon awash in brilliant golden light.