Dark Embrace (Principatus) (20 page)

The disgust in her belly rolled again and she ground her teeth, resisting the urge to slam her fist into the leech’s ugly face. “I
am
a succubus. Which means I can fuck whomever I want. Ignoring the fact I don’t even know your name, trust me when I say, every human male in the world of man stands a better chance of me pleasuring myself on their body than you.” She flicked her gaze to his crotch and curled her lip. “Besides, something tells me your dick isn’t as big as you think it is.”

The leech stared at her, his eyes wide. Angry. “I am a second-order demon,” he snarled, puffing up his chest and standing straighter. “My power grows exponentially with the fear I create in these men you speak of. I can turn a human man to a blubbering baby with a single image in his mind. I am more powerful than you—a mere sex demon—could ever hope to be.” He leaned forward, and she curled her nose at the sickly sweet stench seeping from his body. “And you’re telling me you’d rather fuck a
human
for simple pleasure than me? One of your own kind?”

She laughed, the sound dismissive. “We may both be second-order demons, leechy-boy, but that does
not
make us the same kind. You’re a parasite. I’m an artist. You feed on your victims using fear and torture and infantile mind tricks. I feed on mine using sheer rapture and bliss and sexual ecstasy. You give them terror, I give them lust.”

“I can give you lust,” he said, reaching for her again. “One little subliminal image in your mind, and you will soon be moaning for more.”

Inari’s stomach rolled. She took a step back, shaking her head. “You even think about planting something in my mind, and I’ll rip your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

The leech blanched, his eyes narrowing to slits. “So you’re saying no?”

“I’m saying get-the-hell-away-from-me no. If you want to experience the ultimate in sexual pleasure, leechy-boy, you’re going to have to find a succubus with really low standards. Or a really expensive human whore, ’cause frankly, I’m just not that hungry.”

With one last shake of her head and a repulsed snort, she turned and walked away from him, amazed he’d even approach her. Her. The most successful succubus the Realm had known since Lilith. What was he thinking? It seemed the Dark Ones were letting any old freak monster be elevated to the second order these days. Sheesh, before she knew it, the upper levels of the Realm would be overrun with freaking demons suffering delusions of grandeur, and she’d have to move to the freaking world of man just to get some…

Inari’s eyes snapped open, her blood roaring in her ears as she jerked herself awake. The empathic leech demon? By the Powers, had she just dreamed about the empathic leech demon?

She lay motionless on her side, her heart hammering. The ghost of the dream still reverberated through her soul, making her stomach roll. Why in all the levels of hell was she dreaming of the leech demon she’d rejected centuries ago?

Because you’re feeling guilty?

She closed her eyes and pulled a deep breath, trying to calm her frantic pulse. She’d refused to think of the leech demon who’d killed Tianya. She’d banished the memory of the despicable bastard to the darkest depths of her mind a century ago where it couldn’t send her insane with guilt. She had to. If she hadn’t, she would have lost her mind by now. She was more than half convinced Tianya’s constant presence in her life was that very insanity fighting to claim her. Was her subconscious trying to tell her something now?

Or
was
it her guilt?

Her chest tightened. What did it mean?

You just fucked a vampire, Inari. After twenty years of abstinence for fear of awakening your succubus force, you fucked a demon more powerful than any you’ve met before. Not just fucked him, but surrendered to him. And then fell asleep in his arms. What do you
think
it means?

Succubus.

The word whispered through Inari’s mind and her mouth went dry.

Oh, no. Please…no…

A cool arm like solid marble slid over her hip and she started, flinching at Ezryn’s touch.

Calm down, Inari. Calm.

Keeping her body motionless, she twisted her head to the side, casting him a quick look. He was asleep, eyes closed, face relaxed. Calm.

What kind of vampire sleeps like that, Inari? There’s nothing corpse-like about him. What kind of vampire sleeps like a human?

She didn’t know, but then nothing about Ezryn made any sense to her.

Breath held, she slipped from his loose embrace, sliding from her bed with silent movements. She had to get away from him. Until she could work out what the hell was going on, she had to get as far away from him as she could. Now.

Crossing her room, she snatched up her discarded clothes and hurried to the door, her pulse a thumping hammer in her neck. She’d get dressed and go find Ven Watkins. She needed help. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed help, and the supreme Principatus was the closest thing she had to family. If it weren’t for her, his brother would be dead now and his soul most likely the plaything of Satan. Why the First Horseman of the Apocalypse had sent her to kill the boy all those years ago, she didn’t know, nor care, but that didn’t change a thing. He did send her, she hadn’t killed the boy and now Watkins owed her. Big time. And she’d start with demanding some answers.

What answers are those, exactly? Are you still Principatus now you’ve slept with the enemy? Are you succubus again? Can you keep fucking a vampire?

The rustle of cotton behind Inari killed the unnerving thought and she turned, expecting to see Ezryn’s black gaze locked on her. Instead, he was stretched out on his stomach, eyes closed, just as still as he’d been before. Just as relaxed.

By the Powers, he’s gorgeous.

Inari turned away from the far too confusing sight and exited her bedroom. She pulled on her clothes in record time, for the first time squeezing into her skin-tight black leather pants and zippered bustier with little effort. She bit back a snort. Fate was an ambiguous bitch sometimes. If she didn’t know any better she’d swear she was meant to get out of her apartment in a hurry.

Now you’re just being melodramatic, Inari. Get out, find Ven and get some answers.

Who knew, she might be getting worked into an emotional state over nothing. Ven Watkins might shrug those impossibly broad shoulders of his, flash her one of his ambiguous half smiles and tell her she could sleep with whomever she wanted as long as it didn’t interfere with her work.

Her belly flip-flopped a little at the notion. It would make her life far less complicated. Or even more so.

Slipping her house key into her back pocket, she crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her. Locking it. None of her neighbors was stupid enough to try and enter her apartment without her permission—they’d worked
that
situation out the night she put the obnoxious jerk on the fifth floor in hospital for trying to catch her in the shower the week she’d moved in—but better to be safe than sorry. It was almost sundown. Until the sun dropped below the horizon, Ezryn was vulnerable.

Vulnerable? What, now you’re worried about his wellbeing? Looking out for his safety? For the love of God, woman, you
are
messed up.

“Oh, just shut up, will you,” she muttered, descending the stairs two at a time.

Forty seconds later, she was outside her apartment complex, the swarm of tourists and locals flowing around her over the footpath. She pulled in a slow breath, all too aware of the nervous knot forming in her chest. She’d never approached Ven on such a personal mission. In fact, with the exception of a very short conversation a few years ago, she hadn’t swapped words with him at all. He’d approached her where she’d sat on the steps of the Sydney Art Gallery trying to come to terms with the target she’d just been assigned by the Powers, a succubus who was draining adolescent boys on the outskirts of Sydney. Inari had yet to kill the succubus despite having the order for over two hours.

Ven had ascended each step with a steady stride until he’d stopped directly before her. His green eyes had shimmered an almost blinding white before he’d sat down beside her without greeting

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” he’d said, his voice a deep rumble she’d felt in the pit of her stomach.

“What does?” she’d whispered, still in shock from the surreal events of only an hour earlier.

“Killing one of your own,” he’d answered. “Or at least, killing what you used to be.”

His statement had snapped her spine straight. “What are you talking about?”

He’d chuckled. “I’m an Agent of the Order, Inari Chayse. A Principatus. A pretty important one, in fact. Let’s call me a supreme Principatus. It means I know everything.”

His statement had made her stomach clench. “A
supreme
Principatus?”

He’d nodded. “Family connections. Now tell me, why do you question your target?”

She’d shaken her head in reply. “Not question. Just…” She’d floundered for words, her belly a knot of conflict. “How am I to destroy a succubus? What makes me better than her?”

Ven’s smile had been warm. “Your soul makes you better. And the choices you have made since the day you earned it.”

He’d studied her, waiting for something. Whatever it was, she hadn’t given it to him. With a sigh, he’d shaken his head. “You know what you are, Inari. You know what you have. Don’t fight your soul. Don’t doubt it, either. The big guy would not have bestowed it upon you if He didn’t believe you were worthy of it. Trust me, I know.” He’d grinned at her. “Being a Principatus isn’t easy, but it does have its perks. Don’t worry. You’re meant for this life. Your soul is strong.”

She’d let out a ragged breath, his words stirring the sleeping force within her. She
was
Principatus. She was the Highest’s assassin. She hunted and destroyed any demon or non-human malevolent being whenever commanded to by the Powers. From the moment she’d gained her soul, she’d been tapped in to the Powers and followed their commands. She hadn’t questioned who They were—somehow she’d known. They were the counterpoint divine immortal beings to the Dark Ones. She’d spent her entire succubus existence obeying the commands of the Dark Ones and the second she’d gained her soul, she obeyed the Powers instead. She’d known all those things and more without question.

Destroying a succubus like she had once been wasn’t just her job now. It was righteous.

She could do it. She would gladly do it.

With a silent nod, Ven had straightened to his feet, his eyes green once again. “You’ll do fine,” he’d said.

He’d walked away from her then, the crowd of tourists on the art gallery steps parting before him.

“Wait!” she’d shouted, jumping to her own feet. “What’s your name?”

“Ven Watkins,” he’d called back over his shoulder.

It had taken but a second for the relevance of the name to sink into Inari’s shocked stupor, but when it did, she’d blinked.

And in that split moment of blindness, Ven had vanished. She’d never seen him again in Sydney, though she knew he was still around. She’d tried to contact him a few times, to no avail, but after three years or so she’d just accepted the fact he was out there, somewhere, and she was on her own.

She’d never needed him until now. She’d never questioned her new existence. Until now.

What would she do if Ven told her she had to kill Ezryn? What would she do if—

A familiar prickling sensation razed the back of her neck and she froze.

Demon.

The same demon.

Again.

Inari spun around, scanning the crowd around her, beyond her. The sinking sun cast the area in reaching shadows, only a few of the store fronts and souvenir shops illuminated by their neon lights and flashing displays. Outside the strip clubs, the hawkers had started to do their thing, calling out to the passing pedestrians, regaling anyone who cared to listen—and most who didn’t—of the erotic joys that waiting within. A few cast her an interested inspection, no doubt in part due to her far-from-chaste attire, one even offering her a sly wink. As before, no one stood out as the reason for the prickling heat on her neck. No one waved their arms and shouted, “You-hoo! Demon right here!”

But even in hidden obscurity, the demon was definitely here. Watching her. Just outside her home.

Cold anger flowed through her. Her home. The bastard knew where she lived. Deep within her Principatus soul, the assassin inside her stirred. Waiting at her home changed the situation completely. She wasn’t searching for him anymore, waiting for him to come to her. Now she was hunting him. In earnest.

Incinerating black heat shimmered over her, turning her pale flesh as pitch as midnight for the briefest of moments. She suppressed the sudden urge to transform, instead forcing her muscles to relax. Apart from the hawker who’d given her a wink, no one around her seemed to have noticed the weird blackness that had rippled over her body. The hawker stared at her, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide. She ignored his reaction. With luck, he’d pass it off as a surreal hallucination brought on by bad crack or too much pot.

With a quick shake of her head, as if dismissing something inconsequential, she began walking through the crowd, heading northeast. She needed to draw the stalking demon away from humans. The Royal Botanic Gardens were thirty minutes north of where she was, the one hundred and thirty hectares of display gardens hugging the harbor’s edge behind the Sydney Opera House. By the time she got there the sun would be completely behind the horizon, turning the massive parkland with its minimal lighting, ambling walking tracks and ancient trees and bushes into the perfect place for an ambush. Locals never ventured into the gardens after dark, and the tourists would be too busy with the beauty of the Opera House at night to wander into the shadow-heavy, unknown park.