Dark Embrace (Principatus) (11 page)

“Safe and living without fear now because of you, my master,” Eliah gushed, flicking her a quick look. “I cannot thank you enough.”

Her vampire—
your vampire, Inari?
—placed his free hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Then go home to your wife and child now and enjoy them. They must be missing you.”

Eliah smiled, sharp white fangs glinting in Oxford Street’s neon lights. “They are, and we are expecting our second child soon. If it is a boy, we shall call him Ezryn.”

The name sent a finger of deep tight heat into Inari’s core. Why was that name familiar?

The master vampire chuckled. “Can I suggest Mike instead?”

Eliah smiled, and with an awkward bow and an almost fawning, “Thank you, my master,” he was gone, leaving Inari to gape at the man still gripping her arm.

“Mind telling me what that was about?”

“Not really.”

“I know the hierarchy of your kind is whack, but anyone would think you were some almighty savior the way that young vamp was behaving.”

He shrugged, a grin playing with the corners of his mouth. “I think he had me confused with someone else.”

Inari raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m not
that
nice.”

“No,” Inari shot back. “You’re not.”

He laughed, starting to walk again, his gentle hold on her arm starting her walking as well. “So why aren’t you trying to kill me then? If I’m not that nice?”

She stumbled again, and again he caught her before she could make a complete idiot of herself.

Too late, Inari.

Fresh heat turned her cheeks hot, and she shot him another glare. Why
wasn’t
she trying to kill him? He was a master vampire. Her enemy. His extreme power and ancient prowess didn’t just radiate from him—it oozed from him, infusing the air around him with something akin to electrical mist. Without testing his strength, Inari had little doubt he’d be a frightening force to reckon with, even for a Principatus of her own elevated physical ability. She could feel his monumental presence in every molecule of her body. It challenged her on a raw level beyond her understanding. It was as if the very essence of the vampire race threaded through his existence. She’d executed many master vampires in her time—she’d screwed more than one in her succubus days—but all of them paled into clichéd Hollywood stereotypes compared to
this
master,
this
vampire. Every time he was near her the Principatus within her surged for release, reacting to his undeniable existence. As did the woman in her. With almost as much force. Maybe more.

Disgust simmered through her.
By the Powers, Inari. Enough!

He cocked an eyebrow, his expression somehow humored, his black eyes glinting red. “Well? What’s the reason I’m still alive?”

Inari tugged at his grip on her arm. “You’re not. You’re dead.”

He chuckled. “
Un
dead.”

She ground her teeth, doing her best to ignore the delicious, cool pressure of his fingers on her upper arm. “You can read my mind. You tell me.”

His lips curled a little. “Not all the time, alas.”

“Oh, poor baby.”

He chuckled again. “Yes. Now tell me why you aren’t trying to kill me. I must admit, I’m most curious.”

Inari jutted out her chin. “I’m an assassin, not a murderer.”

His gaze didn’t leave hers. “Meaning?”

She let out an exasperated breath. “Meaning I have no orders to execute you.” She gave him a narrowed-eyed stare. “Yet.”

He nodded. “So it would seem the Powers have decided I’m one of the good guys.”

A dry snort sounded in the back of Inari’s throat. “The Powers aren’t infallible. Nor are
They
the final word. The Highest is, and so far
He
is staying quiet.”

He grinned, obviously enjoying himself. “And is that the only reason?”

She sighed. Again. “If I answer you, will you go away?”

The vampire shrugged, his fingers still curled around her arm. “Maybe.”

“An Agent of the Order, an assassin of God, a Principatus—call us what you will—may only attack a demon marked as a target by the Powers—one who threatens human life—or in direct self-defense.” She paused. “Unfortunately, you fit none of those criteria at the moment.”

His grin stretched wider, perfect white teeth without a hint of fang flashing at her. “Unfortunately?”

She clenched her jaw, tugging at his hold on her arm. “Yeah, unfortunately. I’d like nothing more than to turn you to dust.”

He laughed and once again, Inari’s belly did a little flip-flop. She’d never heard a vamp laugh like that. They were always brooding and somber and
oh, look at me I’m a vampire,
as if there was some how-to book they read before being let loose on an unsuspecting world. Who knew, maybe there was a
Vampires for Dummies
tome out there. Either that or too many of their number watched too many bad movies. In her dreams, this bloodsucker had been the epitome of the vampire race—arrogant and smoldering and domineering. The vampire in her dreams could give lessons on demonic conceit. Here and now, however, walking beside her on a busy footpath surrounded by humans, his very food source, he seemed relaxed and almost…well, almost human.

“Something tells me, Inari Chayse,” he said, slipping his hand up her arm to become less a hold and more a caress, “if you wanted to turn me to dust you would have done so by now, orders from your bosses or not.”

Her pussy fluttered at the change in his grip, her pulse quickening in her throat. She closed her eyes, fighting against the pull of his presence beside her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear he was glamoring her. What other reason was there for the irrational way her body responded to his touch? His very nearness?

Lust? Desire?

Danger?

She bit back a moan, disgusted with herself. Danger was right. This whole thing was dangerous. No matter how sexy and powerful and undeniably potent he was, he was still her enemy. In fact, those very things made him more her enemy. She had to remember that. He was a bloodsucking demon. For the love of God, she didn’t even know his name.

Fresh shame and disgust rolled through her. He’d brought her to orgasm with his tongue and fingers in a public bar less than twenty-four hours ago, and she had no idea what to call him apart from—

“Master.”

His low murmur stroked the side of her neck, and she flinched, jerking away from him as far as his suddenly tight grip on her arm would let her.

“Get the fuck out of my head.”

He stared at her, eyes once more flickering red heat. Once more the eyes of the vampire of her dreams, the smoldering eyes of the arrogant demon who made love to her night after night after night. “Are you not the remotest bit intrigued
why
I am in your head, Principatus?”

She glared at him. “No.”

Liar.

He chuckled, a low, smug sound she recognized.
That
was the laugh of her dreams. Conceited superiority. Confident arrogance. She despised it. As much as she ached to hear it.

Oh, Inari, Tianya is right. You truly are messed up.

“
I
find it very intriguing, Inari,” he said, his lips but an inch away from hers. “Very.”

He leaned closer and the sides of his mouth curled. Inari stiffened, the slightest hint of sharp, pointed fangs catching her eye.

Stop him, Inari. Stop him before you can’t.

His lips brushed hers, stealing her breath. Stealing her ability to run. To fight.

To think.

He dipped his tongue into her mouth, flicking at her even teeth before tugging her to his body and deepening the kiss completely.

And she let him, incapable of doing otherwise. He took charge of her body, of everything, including her senses, and she let him.

He slipped his hand up her arm, over her shoulder to bury it into the hair at her nape. He pulled her against him, scraping his fangs at her lips as he plunged his tongue into her mouth with greedy force, claiming it as his own.

And still she let him. Not just incapable of stopping him, but unwilling. Why would she stop him when it felt this good? This…this right?

“There’s so much more I need to know about you, Inari,” he whispered, dragging his mouth up to her ear. “And here on a crowded Oxford Street footpath isn’t exactly where I had in mind for that discovery.” He nibbled her earlobe. “My home is close. Very close. Come with me and we will—”

“Oi, you two!” a loud male voice filled with jovial mirth shouted from Inari’s left. “Get a bloody room, will ya?”

Inari jerked backward. The pleasure-fogged heat wrapping around her shattered. Her stare locked on the vampire’s face, her heart hammering.

He shook his head, red chips of fire dancing in his black eyes. “Don’t, Inari.”

“Stay away from me, vampire.”

He shook his head again, ignoring the surge of pedestrians pushing past them, his eyes almost entirely red. “Don’t.”

She clenched her fists, shutting out the throbbing ache in the pit of her belly, the pulsing dampness between her thighs. “You’re right, bloodsucker,” she stated, taking another step backward. An empty dismay chilled her soul when his hands slipped from her arm and hair, but she refused to acknowledge it. “I’m not the kind to wait for orders to take out a demon that needs to be destroyed.”

His nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed. But he didn’t move. “For future reference, we vampires hate being called demons.”

She gave him a look of mock surprise, hoping to the Highest of Powers the denied want churning in her belly didn’t show on her face. “Really? Gee, I didn’t know that. Now, if you’ll excuse me,
demon
—” She took another step back, away from the cold power emanating from his body. “I have a job to do.”

She turned and began pushing her way through the gawking crowd. Searching for the man who’d yelled for them to get a room. She needed to thank him. She needed to let him know he’d saved her from making the biggest mistake of her entire three hundred years. She needed to—

Kill him for interrupting? Just when you were about to agree to the vampire’s suggestion?

She lengthened her pace, shame turning her cheeks hot. A low chuckle sounded behind her. Smug and arrogant and thrumming with conceited confidence.

Ezryn’s laugh.

The laugh of her dreams.

And just like that, her pussy constricted with eager, wet want.

Damn him.

Damn her.

Haral watched his new bride’s head bob up and down at his groin. Her fangs scraped at the sides of his cock, painful and unpleasant and annoying. He didn’t stop her, as much as he wanted to. He would let her swallow his seed, let her wipe the spittle from her lower lip as she settled back on her haunches, thinking she’d pleasured him immensely, and
then
teach her never to give him head again with her fangs out.

Surprise the fuck out of her.

He ran his gaze over the glossy yellow of her hair, a silent snort sounding in the back of his throat. Married for two weeks to the pneumatic twat and already he was bored. She lay like a cold fish when he stuck his cock into her cunt and complained when he shot his load before she came.

So why did you marry her?

Because she was sex on legs to look at, tall and voluptuous with full lips and big tits. But mainly because she had come to him on her knees begging him, the overlord, to do something about the bitch Principatus who’d executed her dumb-as-fuck cousin. Because she’d stayed on her knees for a good while after, although she’d kept her fangs retracted that time. Because as she’d sucked him off in front of his father’s watching advisors—
his
advisors, the advisors of the overlord—he’d begun to formulate his plan. The very means to destroy his brother once and for all.

“Your brother is born of greatness, Haral.”
His mother’s voice whispered through his head, the words from a lifetime ago. “
He will be the leader our kind has needed for too long.”

Haral’s balls rose up even as he hissed and thrust his hips forward, driving his dick deeper into his wife’s mouth. It wasn’t just his mother who thought Ezryn pissed gold and shat diamonds. Whenever their father came down from his blood-drunk high, he spoke of little else. Ezryn was strong. Ezryn was intelligent. Ezryn was handsome. Fuck, Frederik Navarr had spent one whole night regaling Haral with detailed hypotheses on how virile his revered son was. Whenever Haral sought out his father’s advice or counsel, Frederik was too busy with Ezryn. Whenever Haral was with his mother, her first question was always—
always
—of Ezryn. He’d never doubted the woman’s love for both her sons, but once, just once, he’d longed for her to ask of him first.

She never had.

Even the last words she ever uttered were of darling, precious Ezzie. The last fucking words. The night she’d discovered Haral’s clandestine relationship with the oracle, the night Haral had ended her existence, all she could think about was her first born. As Haral had sunk his nails into her neck and ripped out her throat, her very last words had been of his twin brother. “
Ezryn will…”