Dark Embrace (Principatus) (6 page)

His cock stiffened again and he growled, the cold blood in his veins running hot with carnal interest. It had been a while since he’d fed, even longer since he’d fucked. After he’d finished with the Principatus, he’d find a willing female or two, maybe human, maybe not, and sate his appetite. If Jake was lucky, he might even invite him to join in the—

An unknown scent slipped into Ezryn’s nose, a soft tickle so subtle he almost missed it. Unknown and yet so very familiar.

He froze, eyes narrow, nose lifted.

There. To his right.

He turned, scanning the muted depths of the club. The Principatus’s scent came to him from the shadows, wafting in teasing tendrils from the back booths only those wanting to conceal their actions used.

A smile pulled at the corners of Ezryn’s mouth. Perfect. He couldn’t have asked for anything better.

Indifferent to the come-hither glances and stares directed his way, he began walking forward. Until tonight, he’d only known of one Principatus living in Sydney, and the scent curling into his nostrils definitely did not belong to Ven Watkins. That could only mean unless there were more than two of the Highest’s assassins in the city—a very unlikely situation—it belonged to the Principatus he hunted. His muscles coiled, readying for his attack. Unprovoked and unexpected as it was, there was still a chance she would fight back. Ezryn’s fangs extended. He needed to be quick. As ridiculous as the notion sounded, he needed to make it humane. Painless.

The shadows melted away as he drew closer, the din of the club fading to a low buzz. He zeroed his senses onto the very end booth tucked away in the corner and its sole occupant, learning everything he could as he moved toward her, everything his heightened sense of smell and sound perception could detect about her—how fast her heart beat, how clean her skin was, how she sat on the booth’s seat, how her limbs moved against each other, in what position she sat, the material of her clothes she wore, what weapons she carried if any.

He drew to a halt, the sound of soft feminine moans floating from the booth stilling his feet for a moment. He recognized the emotion behind those moans all too well. Pleasure. Mounting release. He pulled in a deep breath, the musky aroma of female juices filling his body. Whatever was happening in the booth, his assassin was more than turned on by it. His cock, already half-erect, sprang to instant attention, as if the Principatus’s arousal was a beacon for his own.

Ezryn sneered. His fangs dug into his bottom lip. He was aroused for one reason only—the successful hunt of a natural enemy. That she smelled like sin and rapture combined meant nothing.

He started walking again, his pace quick, his stare locked on the darkest corner in the club. She was there. And by the sounds of it, she wasn’t as alone as he’d first thought.

So who is with her? Why couldn’t you detect them?

Another moan caressed his ears, a hitching whimper he knew came from her throat. An image filled his mind, unexpected but very appealing—a petite female with hair the color of dark chocolate and eyes the color of moss, her full lips parted, her neck offered to him as she slipped her fingers between the sodden folds of her pussy and rode her hand to a savage climax.

Maybe she is alone after all? Alone and needing to…

His cock jerked in straining need, rubbing against the coarse denim of his jeans. He bit back a groan.

Maybe he could sate his rising sexual hunger?

Her whimper came again. Higher, faster.

He sucked in a sharp breath, the taste of her pleasure thick on the air. She was close. Close to coming.

Concentrate, Ezryn. You are to kill her, not fuck her.

His body burned with a hunger he couldn’t deny. By all the levels of hell, he wanted to be there when she came. He wanted to shove his head between her wet thighs and plunge his tongue into her sex. He wanted to taste her fully and completely. If someone was with her, he would dispose of them quickly, remove whoever had brought her to such heights of passion and take her even higher, feasting on her pleasure as she came for him over and over again. Drink of her release before puncturing her flesh with his fangs and feeding on her blood. He would feed from her in every sense of the word before ending her life. Pleasure for pleasure. Rapture for rapture. A sensual end before a senseless death.

He pushed forward, his stare locked on the booth and its shrouding darkness. Ten steps away. Nine. Eight. Seven.

A choked cry shattered the Principatus’s moaning whimpers, and he leapt forward, mindless of the other club patrons as he became a blur. He crossed the distance remaining between himself and his quarry in less than a stolen heartbeat.

She lay stretched along the booth’s bench seat, black denim-clad legs spread, her hand dipped below her open fly, her eyes closed, her lips parted.

The Principatus.

Completely at his mercy.

Vulnerable.

Killable.

His mouth filled with saliva. “And so very, very alone,” he murmured.

Her eyelids snapped open and green irises the color of flawless emeralds pierced his unbeating heart. Fear exploded on her face, followed by inexplicable, stunned recognition and fear again. Her lips forming an O of shock, she yanked her hand from between her thighs.

And before she could react further to his sudden appearance, he shoved the table aside, grabbed the waistline of her trousers and tore them down her hips, He dropped to his knees and plunged his tongue into her sodden, cream-slicked folds.

Inari arched, her raw cry bursting from her throat. By the Powers, what was he doing to her?

Isn’t it obvious?

Liquid heat rushed through her, detonating from the masterful tongue invading her sex. She threw back her head, driving her nails into the stiff leather bench on which she was pinned. Christ, she was on fire.

The vampire between her legs growled, sending a wave of vibrations through her body. She cried out again, pumping up her hips, shoving her sex harder to his greedy mouth.

This is not a dream, Inari. Stop him. Stop him now.

He growled again, grabbing for her ass, holding her trapped against his lips and teeth and tongue. He nipped at her clit and fresh heat exploded in Inari’s core. Stop him? Was she insane?

But you’re not asleep, girl. This is real!

She didn’t care. She didn’t give a rat’s ass. The vampire who’d haunted her dreams forever was fucking her with his oh-so-talented mouth.

Thrusting her hips upward, she spread her legs as wide as the waistline of her jeans would let her, wanting his tongue to impale her deeper. It wasn’t enough. Her bunched trousers dug into her knees, kept her thighs too close. “Fuck!”

Her guttural curse tore from her throat and she squirmed, frustration and disbelief making her burn.

The vamp chuckled, a low, purring sound that sent wicked vibrations through her sex. She arched again, driving her heels into the bench seat’s padded cushion, lifting her hips higher as she fisted her hands in his thick, black hair.

He stabbed his tongue past her folds, lapped at her juices, teased her clit and then stabbed into her pussy again, each action slow and thorough and dominating. Every time she moved, every tiny little shift in her position, he sank his nails into her ass, holding her still. Refusing to let her govern her own body.

His power, his control, sent waves of giddy pleasure through her. Three hundred years as a succubus meant three hundred years of
her
being in control.
She
had been the taker, the catalyst for her partners’ pleasure. Not once in over a million orgasms had she ever been dominated.
She
was the force.

For three centuries, she’d fed on the sexual energy of men. Coming to them in their sleep, during the fugue between waking and slumber or sometimes, when she was particularly hungry or spied a man of undeniable sexual energy, in the bright of day. She’d drained them of their essence as she used them to sustain herself. For three hundred years, she’d milked more human males of their seed and sexual power than she could remember, drawing orgasm after orgasm after orgasm from their weak, vulnerable bodies, some—those with a particularly powerful sexual force—until their hearts could no longer cope with the exertion and stopped.

She’d been undeniable and inescapable. Likened to Lilith in her ferocity. And here she was, the most successful succubus since the first, more aroused than ever before and at the mercy of a nameless master vampire.

Her raw whimper slipped from her lips before she could stop it. By the Powers, she never wanted this to end.

As if feeling her very desire, the vampire raked his hands over her butt, squeezing each cheek as he inched his fingers closer to her dripping sex. He thrust his tongue in and out, sucked on her folds and then painted them with her cream. Wetting her completely. The pit of her belly contracted and she squirmed again, her clit a molten tip of heightened sensitivity. With just one more touch of his tongue on its swollen form, she would come. Even if she wanted to stop, she couldn’t.

But you don’t want to stop.

The words floated through her head, a low murmur she couldn’t identify. Her thoughts? His? Or someone else’s?

Does it matter?

Before she could contemplate the answer, the vampire jerked her hips higher and stabbed his tongue into the tight opening of her ass.

“Fuck!”

Inari bucked, her orgasm ripping through her, torn from her by the demon’s assault. She’d never, never been penetrated there. Not by finger, tongue or cock.

Liquid electricity claimed her, radiating through her body from her invaded ass. She cried out, her knuckles popping as she tightened her fists in his hair, holding his mouth to its most exquisite placement. Her breath burst from her in shallow gasps, her toes curled in her boots. By the Powers, what was he doing to her?

Exactly what he wants.

Which is exactly what you want him to do.

The dark thought detonated another rupture of hot pleasure in her sex. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, biting back the wild cry threatening to escape her. The reality of the situation overwhelmed her. This was no dream. This was no fantasy. This was happening. Now. Right here in a freaking Kings Cross strip-club while a fae ménage show took place on the freaking stage. The vampire of her dreams was fucking her ass with his mouth, and she never wanted him to stop.

“Then I won’t.”

The statement—low and smug and arrogant—whispered through her mind. She gasped, every muscle in her body stiffening. He was in her head. A demon was in her head. The very thing she hunted—

“Is going to fuck you until you can’t move or cry out.”

His deep growl snapped her eyes wide. She stared down her body, straight into eyes the color of midnight sin. “Who…”

He smiled, fangs glinting. “You may call me master.”

The command stabbed into her chest. She hissed, the sleeping Principatus force buried deep within her soul surging to the surface. She whipped her legs up and wrapped them around his smoothly muscled neck, trapping the bloodsucker in the junction of her thighs. “I call no demon filth master,” she snarled.

With terrifying speed and strength, the vampire curled his fingers around her ankles and yanked her legs apart, the sound of her jeans ripping in two almost as loud as his hiss of pleasure. He shoved her back, his hips smashing to hers, his weight pinning her to the bench. “You
will
call me master,” he whispered, his face so close to hers his cool flesh chilled her. Staring into her eyes, he grabbed her wrists and jerked her arms above her head. “And I plan on being very, very filthy with you.”

Inari bucked, cold fear and hot fury flooding her very center. Her heart stilled even as her sex contracted and flooded with wet rapture. By the Powers, this was not right. This was not meant to happen.

The vampire’s eyes glowed black light and he rolled his hips, his rigid shaft, contained by the coarse denim of his jeans, stroking her spread, sodden pussy.

“It is as it is,” he murmured, moving both her wrists to one large hand. He gazed down at her, fangs extended, nostrils flaring. “And as it will be.” He raked his free hand down her arm, her torso, his thumb brushing the side of her breast before he shifted slightly. “For as long as I deem it so…Principatus.”

The title stole Inari’s breath. She glared up at him, hating him. “Go to hell.”

He grinned. Indolent and smug. “Been there. Done that. Bought the T-shirt.”

And, fangs extending longer, he shoved his hand between their hips and plunged his finger into her sex.

She was tight. So very tight. Her pussy squeezed his middle finger, a cream-slicked sheath that turned his blood to fire. His cock pulsed and he wriggled his finger deeper, stroking at the inner wall of her sex. Dark Ones, she felt so fucking good.

He stared down into her face, into her wild green eyes. Her lips parted, her breath hitched in her throat, her breasts rose and fell in rapid succession. He dropped his gaze to their round perfection, and his mouth filled with saliva. He would drink from her there, from the main artery that ran below the under-swell of each mound.