Dark Obsession

by Aja James

  Vaguely, he heard that familiar female voice in his hazy mind: rest now, my warrior. You need to store up some strength. For I shall have more of you when you awaken.

  Much, much more.

  *** *** *** ***

  “So this is where you do your dirty work.”

  The female in a white lab coat, one of three women and four men in the highly secure, top secret research facility beneath New York City’s Chinatown, didn’t raise her head or glance at the speaker in acknowledgement. She simply kept looking into the microscope and adjusted a knob on the side.

  “Rare of you to put in an appearance,” she murmured, keeping her eyes focused on the task at hand. “Was there something in particular you wanted?”

  The beautiful Creature that had sauntered into the labs like it owned them made a show of looking around, its hypnotic dark eyes missing nothing in its leisurely perusal of all the equipment and staff.

  She knew what it saw: objects. Nothing but animate and inanimate objects. The same way it saw itself.

  It took one soul-less being to recognize another.

  The female glanced up briefly from her work to take in the Creature’s perfect flawed beauty.

  Neither male, nor female, but an indefinable combination of both sexes, its features mesmerizing in their uniqueness, hypnotic in the indelible impression they left upon their beholder.

  Attractive, in the rawest, most primitive ways. It made anyone and everyone who looked upon it seethe with avaricious, uncontrollable lust.

  It caught her gaze and quirked a corner of its sensuous lips, as if to say, I know you want to fuck me. I know you want to own me. But even if you turn me inside out, take hold of every molecule, you’ll never really have me. Because I’m merely an illusion. Beneath this irresistible package lies nothing at all.

  “I’m bored,” it finally replied in its hauntingly melodious voice, husky deep yet layered with a feminine lilt. “My pet zombie refuses to play.”

  “Stop toying with him,” she said, her tone conveying that she didn’t really expect it to heed her suggestion.

  “Just because his soul is arrested and we’ve trapped it within his body doesn’t mean you should feel free to provoke him. You risk either awaking his frozen soul so that we’re back where we started, or making it depart his body altogether. Then, we would have no leverage against the Destroyer.”

  The Creature wandered idly along the periphery of the lab, touching equipment and lab technicians as it went along.

  When it squeezed one of the other female researcher’s breast, the woman simply continued about her work as if it wasn’t even there.

  “Why do we need him anyway?” the Creature asked rather mulishly, betraying the slightest hint of real emotion. “Why is he the only trigger for the Destroyer?”

  “It’s chemical,” the female replied readily. “I wasn’t completely certain he was the one until we got them together. After they…bonded, both their genetic material changed. Even the sample we took from her before the event mutated. No one else could have triggered the Pure Queen’s Awakening.”

  She slanted the Creature a piercing look.

  “You should know. You tried your subversive best.”

  “Not really,” it said languidly, its face once again erased of any feeling. “I never tried at all. Can’t stomach the thought of tying myself forever to the thing that could eradicate civilizations.”

  It gave a delicate shudder.

  “Most likely I’d accidentally press the self-destruct button and end the world prematurely.”

  She smirked humorlessly.

  “Just as well. No matter how you try, beautiful creature, you’ll never be the one to move her.”

  It paused infinitesimally, its elegant, long-fingered hand hovering above a rack of test tubes, before gently falling to its side again.

  Abruptly, it changed the conversational course.

  “Do you like working with these zombies? It seems awfully boring to toil away night after night like this in wretched, interminable silence. Can you at least teach them to tell a few bawdy jokes to liven things up?”

  She shrugged and moved to one of the multiple ongoing tests she was running in parallel.

  “They are extensions of my consciousness, and together, we can accomplish within days what would take me weeks to complete alone.”

  It nodded as comprehension dawned. “No bawdy jokes then, since you obviously have no sense of humor.”

  Then, it slid a sly look at her through its enviously long lashes.

  “So, when I squeezed that tit just then, did you also feel it?” it inquired with mild curiosity.

  She regarded the Creature fully, looking into its fathomless dark eyes, blood-red at their centers.

  For long moments, she simply held its beautiful, ugly eyes.

  Beautiful in their color, shape and embroidery, framed with those thick, sinful sweeps of feathery lashes. Ugly in what lay within.

  If there was a gateway to hell, she thought she might be looking into it.

  “You remind me of a neglected child who would do anything to elicit attention,” she murmured almost pityingly, if she had any pity left to give that was.

  It visibly jerked at her words, as if she’d caused it tremendous pain.

  She filed that away for future reference.

  “What is it you want?” she asked again.

  She had work to do, and it was distracting her from making progress.

  “I came to see your new specimen,” it finally replied, as if suddenly eager to depart from her presence.

  “Where are you keeping him?”

  It stilled and listened carefully. She paused in her work as well.

  A distant echo of animal growls and human crying reached their ears through the cloying silence of the labs, disturbed only by the hum and whirring of the central AC and heavy duty DNA sequencers.

  She turned back to her experiment and gave a loose shrug.

  “I didn’t bring him in,” she said, looking again into the microscope. “Agent Kyles took care of him.”

  “Was that part of the plan?” the Creature asked from behind her, its voice doubting.

  “Plans change. Agent Kyles knows what to do.”

  “You sound rather sure of a mindless zombie.”

  “Soul-less,” she corrected, “not mindless. Ariel Kyles is a human shell programmed to do what I tell her to. She will bring him in when the time is right.”

  *** *** *** ***

  “What news?”

  Devlin Sinclair, Hunter for the New England vampire hive under the recently established rule of the first-ever Dark King, grimaced slightly before he spoke, loathe to give his liege unpleasant tidings.

  “I have his last location, but not enough to ascertain where he is now. Whoever took him knows how to cover their tracks.”

  It had been three nights since the Commander of the Chosen warriors, the elite guard of the vampire king, disappeared without a trace.

  If it had been the Assassin, Ryu Takamura, or the Phoenix, Anastasia Zima, none of their comrades would have been particularly alarmed.

  Ryu, in particular, used to disappear for weeks and sometimes months at a time, when he was deep under cover or on a stealth mission. But now that he was a married man, and to a superhuman wife no less, he never strayed far from Ava’s and their son, Kane’s, side.

  Ana, on the other hand, simply liked her solitude, often hiding out in her log cabin in the Catskills when she needed a break.

  But just because she wanted privacy didn’t mean she was alone.

  Devlin had to track her down to her cozy hideout in the middle of nowhere once, and he’d gotten quite an eyeful before he turned about face, his naturally pale skin heated with a furious blush.

  There were some things you’d prefer not to know about your comrade in arms.

  Maximus, however, was thoroughly predictable.

  His team often wondered whether he was really a Pure One with fangs. He
didn’t have a temper that they could observe. Didn’t have vices. Was always in control of his emotions, bloodlust, and other basic needs that vampires tended to indulge in—typically without control. He seldom cracked a smile, always followed protocol…

  In other words, predictably boring.

  For Maximus to have disappeared without a word to anyone for not just a few hours but days, something dire must have happened.

  Alend Ramses, the new Dark King, growled low, indicating without words his burgeoning displeasure.

  “No trace of Simca, either,” Ana said. “It’s almost as if… as if she’s gone.”

  The Chosen and their king silently mulled on that one.

  Every one of them knew that Maximus never went anywhere for long without his panther. They ate together, fought together, rested together.

  None of the Chosen wanted to contemplate whether they’d also perished together.

  As if hearing their unsaid thoughts, Grace Darling, Devlin’s Mate, spoke up, her voice flat as always, betraying none of the worry her friends had come to realize she felt, in addition to a wide range of emotions, despite her unique case of Asperger’s.

  “The satellite feeds I hacked showed that Maximus was still in his corporeal form before the unidentified female dragged him out of range. If she wanted to end him, she could have done so immediately. We have to assume that he’s still alive but taken.”

  “Which isn’t necessarily a better outcome,” Ryu said in his low, resonant rumble, like thunder rolling across a darkened sky.

  “Recall what happened to Sergei Antonov.”

  The Chosen took a few seconds to recall.

  The Russian mob boss had teamed up with a traitor from within their ranks a few years ago, igniting a string of deadly, illegal fight clubs throughout populous cities around the world that threatened to expose the Dark Ones to the masses.

  Some months ago, Antonov had brokered unsanctioned international arms deals, which, in of itself wouldn’t have raised the Chosen’s eyebrows as they avoided getting embroiled in human intrigue. Except for the fact that the weapons in question were heat-seeking bullets that were designed specifically to kill vampires.

  Recently, they’d finally apprehended Antonov, but it was an empty triumph, for the human had already been emptied of all thought, memory and emotion.

  Maximus had left him like a trussed up Christmas goose for the NYPD, who’d handed him over to the FBI, whereupon he was taken away to serve out multiple life sentences at ADX, the supermax prison in Fremont County, Colorado.

  But one day, no one knew how it happened, Antonov simply stopped breathing.

  He’d had no physical shocks, no medical trauma. It was as if someone had flipped a switch that decided his life and death. No amount of resuscitation could revive him.

  The Chosen had not previously encountered such evidence of their nemesis, Medusa’s, mind-control. But their tentative allies, the Pure Ones under the rule of their newly Awakened queen, Sophia St. James, had shared all the details they’d acquired about the soul-less army their common enemy was amassing, targeting both Pure and Dark Ones of warrior class.

  Humans too, if Antonov was any indication.

  Ramses himself had been selected for “recruitment,” one name on a long list that Devlin and Grace had stolen from Medusa’s archives almost two years ago. Maximus had gotten to Ramses first and warned him. Ultimately, they succeeded in bringing Ramses into the New England vampire hive instead.

  If Maximus was still alive, if he had been taken, the most likely and most dangerous outcome was staring them in the face.

  “Stop speculating,” Ramses growled low. “Unless I have proof of his end, we will concentrate on finding him and bringing him back.”

  He looked to Devlin and Grace.

  “Get your hands on more images and digital fingerprints that can be used to triangulate the identity of the female with Maximus. I know you’ve done everything you can in the past seventy-two hours, but do it again.”

  The Hunter and his Mate nodded. They’d keep at it until they found a lead, no matter how long it took.

  Ramses directed his next orders to Ryu and Ana.

  “Tap your networks, Dark, Pure, human alike. Leave no stone unturned.”

  Ana blinked her acknowledgment and added, “I reset all of the Cove’s security protocols when we discovered the Commander’s disappearance. Should we also consider relocation? The Pure Ones have cautioned against being too complacent when a member of their own was taken. They’ve learned their lesson twice over by now.”

  Strangely, Ramses smiled.

  It was a grim, terrible smile.

  “Let him come,” the Dark king said, utterly fearless. Almost welcoming.

  “Let them come,” he added, his voice lowered to a private pitch, so that only Devlin, who sat the closest, could hear his words.

  “I’ve been waiting for a long, long time.”

  Chapter Three

  “Open.”

  Maximus obeyed without question, his lips parting on their own accord.

  A strong wrist covered with soft, smooth skin was placed against his fangs.

  “Drink.”

  Unconsciously, he sank his teeth into the tender flesh and drew upon the juicy vein he’d unerringly pierced.

  Hot, sweet blood flooded his mouth and danced upon his tongue, an explosion of flavors that made him voracious.

  He reached up to grip with both hands the small, yet solid wrist in an unrelenting hold, bringing it harder against his mouth, sinking his fangs as deep as they could go.

  His throat and stomach rejoiced at the injection of nourishment that went straight to his tissues, organs and bones.

  This wondrous blood was healing him. All the things that were broken and destroyed inside. Regenerating his heart, his lungs, the wounds in his shoulder, chest and thigh.

  But he wanted more.

  He needed more.

  A shudder racked his body from head to toe, making his muscles jump and bunch beneath his too-tight skin.

  He was on fire. He was on ice. Something was awaking and unfurling inside of him, stretching its great claws, cracking its monstrous jaws.

  A deep, resonant growl shook the air around him, savage and demanding. He didn’t even realize that he was the one who gave it voice.

  “Shhh,” a low female voice murmured soothingly beside his ear, familiar yet unknown.

  “Be calm. Be still. I know how to make you feel better. I’ll give you what you need.”

  As she promised, a purposeful hand traveled down his chest and abdomen to wrap around his pulsing sex, where she squeezed him languorously yet firmly with each draw and swallow of blood he took from the vein.

  Her hand upon him made the broiling tension inside diffuse but not lessen.

  His hips began to undulate on their own accord, bucking against her grip, reaching for more friction, trying to soothe the ravaging ache within.

  Dark Goddess but he hurt.

  The pain inside was nigh unbearable.

  Worse, in fact, than the process of dying, which he distinctly recall doing before something sharp had stabbed directly into his chest.

  His mind shied away from the few wisps of memories that flashed behind his eyelids after that moment.

  He knew that he’d lost something vital, and he didn’t want to recall it. As futile as the attempt was, he wanted to avoid reality for just a while longer.

  Better to focus on now.

  Not that he could have ignored the agony of the present even if he tried.

  It was as if all of the desires, needs, and hunger he’d repressed over the millennia of his existence were suddenly unleashed, en force, within him.

  He shuddered long and hard, releasing endlessly into the soft hand that held him. But the more he let go, the sharper the pain. Something angry and seething roiled beneath his skin, demanding to break free.

  No! He couldn’t let it out. He couldn’t lose control.

&
nbsp; He had to fight it! Keep it contained.

  Keep the monster caged inside where no one would ever find him…

  2nd century, AD. Ancient Rome.

  During the reign of Marcus Aurelius, the Roman Empire enjoyed its last decades of relative peace.

  Despite a few brief wars with the Parthians, the Marcomanni, Quadi, and Sarmatians, and of course, those pesky Germanic tribes that simply wouldn’t stay down no matter how many times you beat them.

  It was a time of philosophy and trade, when the empire extended its reach to exotic places like the Far East, to unfathomable remote and alien realms like China.

  It was a time of persecution, when loyal Romans showed their pride by banding together against common foes.

  Christians were one such minority that suffered the brunt of being different. As did the various conquered invaders who were kept in the empire as slaves, who filled the gladiator arenas with human fodder as part of bloody spectacles that kept the plebian rabble entertained.

  Which was why, amidst all the strange faces, curiosities and commonplace violence, barely disguised by a thin veneer of law and order, the straggling Dark Ones that survived the Great War and the Purge of the aftermath began to rebuild their strength and numbers.

  No one batted an eye at those eccentric and beautiful foreigners who kept to themselves in a citadel on the outskirts of Rome, who held lavish parties every night and whose golden fountains always overflowed with thick, blood-red wine.

  Little did the guests know that it was three-parts blood, one-part wine, and that before the night was out, their own blood would further thicken the pools.

  The leader of this particular vampire horde called herself Mistress Circe.

  No one knew whether she was a True Blood, a vampire made, or a Pure One who took the wrong path. But everyone bowed to her powers, enchanted by her beauty.

  For Circe possessed an incredible Gift, never before documented in the long histories of the immortal races—the ability to transform men into beasts and beasts into men.

  No one had ever seen her wield these fearsome powers, however.