Dark Obsession

by Aja James

  Benji returned the greetings with friendly politeness, as he’d been brought up by his parents to do. But Clara’s exuberant nature and Annie’s sweet chuckles were contagious, and Benji quickly relaxed in their presence and started gabbing as if he’d known them forever. Even the ninja broke out a smile or two.

  That was, until Clara’s husband, Eli, came down to the studio from their upstairs loft.

  Immediately, the ninja tensed again and fell utterly silent, and so did the two girls, as if they were holding their breath.

  “Ryu,” Eli greeted briefly, inclining his head.

  “Eli,” was all the ninja said in return.

  It looked to Benji as if the two males, who looked enough like each other to be brothers, were about to go to war, though their stance was less aggressive, more defensive.

  After a very tense and awkward silence, Clara focused on Benji with a determined cheerfulness, and got him started on sketching with chalk pencils. Annie did her sketching right next to him, and Benji would be the first to admit that the red-haired girl had a whole lot more natural talent than him.

  But he loved art and had a vivid imagination. Whereas Annie might draw from memory, her sketches vividly realistic, Benji’s drawings were phantasmagoric and abstract. What he lacked in talent, he made up for in enthusiasm. And Clara’s firm but encouraging teaching style really worked for him.

  The hour flew by while Benji drew, making him forget about the two males he could see out the corner of his eye, sitting across an art table from each other, silent and brooding. One sipped a Japanese tea while the other simply stared at him.

  Clara wandered over once in a while to check on them and to try to start a conversation. But each time she met with abysmal failure, as neither male would speak to the other, only addressing Clara when she posed a specific question to one of them.

  At the end of Benji’s lesson, Ryu was waiting dutifully by the studio door to escort him home. The ninja didn’t say goodbye to the family of three, only nodded briefly and turned away.

  On the way back to the Shield, Benji wondered why his Mommy had chosen this particular escort to accompany him to his class. Not that the ninja was any less cool than before.

  But…the escorting was a matter of convenience because Ryu was already headed to the art teacher’s home. And yet, as far as Benji could tell, there didn’t seem to be a purpose for his visit. Ryu didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t engage in artistic activity. He just sat there and sipped tea.

  And subjected himself to be stared at by Clara’s husband Eli.

  An idea dawned in Benji’s endlessly churning mind.

  What if Ryu and Eli were communicating subliminally? Some people could do that! Pure and Dark Ones both had Gifts. Perhaps the two males shared a special connection, maybe even a kinship, that rendered speaking out loud unnecessary.

  If this was true, Benji couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts the two mysterious males exchanged.

  *** *** *** ***

  Maximus left the camp fire early.

  Others, including Ariel, remained, sharing stories, joking and laughing well into the night.

  One of the reasons for his early departure might have been the fact that a Bengal tiger named Azad had situated himself next to Ariel and was gaining a disproportionate share of her attention.

  Maximus had immediately wanted to leap across the fire and tear the tiger limb from limb with his bare hands.

  But he wasn’t that kind of male.

  The sort who lost control of his emotions, who lost his cool under any circumstance.

  Plus, he didn’t have the right. And he didn’t know if he wanted to claim it.

  He wanted Ariel in a way he’d never wanted any female, that much he knew. But he wasn’t after a quick rut. Or even a long, sustained, marathon orgy to scratch each other’s sexual itch.

  He cared for Ariel.

  Even after just a few days, he’d grown to like and admire her.

  Part of their connection was definitely because of Simca. But it was much more than that at the same time.

  Ariel was a complex woman with a vibrant personality, layered emotions, desires and needs.

  She was his partner in this journey of self-discovery, his guide and comfort.

  She was also the only female he wanted to rut with to assuage his needs.

  Either of these relationships in of itself was not complicated. Partner or fuck-buddy. But together, she presented an important choice to him.

  She was someone he could Claim as a Mate.

  This was a thought that had never crossed his mind before with any other female in the millennia of his existence.

  But how was he to Claim her, when he didn’t even know himself? And how was she to accept (or reject), when she didn’t fully know herself?

  Or did she?

  On the surface, at least, she seemed much more certain of herself, what she wanted and what she’s capable of. Much more certain than Maximus could claim.

  She’d made it perfectly clear she wanted to claim him. What he didn’t know was whether she simply wanted to rut with him, or whether she wanted all of him.

  So he walked away from the gathering around the fire pit to cool off.

  The irony was that, when he’d needed to distance himself from the world in the past, his panther had always remained by his side. Simca had been almost an extension of himself. He never would have needed to distance himself from her.

  But now, she—Simca-Agent Kyles-Ariel—was her own individual, no longer an extension of Maximus. She was someone he both wanted to be closer to, as well as someone he needed distance from in this moment.

  Dark Goddess above! He couldn’t make sense of it all.

  Something prickled Maximus’s awareness enough to make him still, standing at the edge of a jagged slope.

  There had been no sound to alert him, no scent on the wind. The campfire was far enough behind him now that its glow no longer reached this part of the deserted plateau.

  Twin orbs of icy blue speared him with their intensity before the rest of the white tiger’s face came into focus.

  Goya in his tiger form slowly approached Maximus, one great paw hesitantly placed in front of the other.

  Maximus forced himself to stay utterly still, involuntarily holding his breath.

  In his normal tiger size, Goya was still a giant among felines, but now that Maximus was a full-grown male instead of a gangly boy, he felt as if he were Goya’s equal, even though the tiger outweighed him by four to five hundred pounds.

  Just as slowly as Goya was approaching him, Maximus descended carefully to balance on the balls of his feet so that he was eye-level with the tiger as he came closer. Keeping their exact same eyes locked, he turned slightly to sit down on the edge of the cliff overlooking a steep rocky slope of the mountain.

  Goya came close enough to sniff at the hand Maximus stretched out on a nearby flat rock to balance his weight as he sat, the tiger’s whiskers twitching like silver needles in the night.

  Goya pulled back slightly at the smell he picked up, and Maximus caught the flash of pain in the tiger’s eyes before he tried to hide it by turning his head.

  “I’m sorry,” Maximus said in a low voice. “I’m sorry I’m not the male I should be. I wish…”

  I wish I could be like you. Since the first time I saw you, I’ve been in awe. I’m sorry I made myself forget that feeling. Forget you.

  Unconsciously, he extended his hand toward the tiger, raising it palm up from the rock. Waiting with bated breath to see what Goya would do.

  The tiger raised his great head to meet Maximus’s eyes again. He made a low chuffing sound and softly nuzzled Maximus’s hand before giving his fingers a hesitant lick with his sandpaper tongue.

  Reminding Maximus of the way the tiger had shown his approval and affection when they’d first met.

  Even though he’d been trapped by cage and shackles, he’d tried to comfort the boy who stood on the other side of his
prison bars.

  Throat and chest tight with emotion, Maximus stretched his hand further to curl into the soft tufts of fur under and around the tiger’s face.

  Goya came closer and playfully butted Maximus’s shoulder with enough force to almost knock him over, making him chuckle and use his lack of balance as an excuse to pull the tiger closer. Enough that Maximus momentarily embraced him, before letting go again to sit back on the edge of the cliff, leaning on both hands.

  Goya lay down on all fours beside him, and both males looked out into the starlit darkness.

  Maximus didn’t speak, simply enjoying the silence and the sense of peace and rightness that descended upon him.

  Goya laid his great head on his front paws and slowly closed his eyes, a low purr vibrating through his body.

  As if he, too, finally found peace.

  It was almost dawn when Maximus finally returned to the private cave he shared with Ariel.

  She’d bundled herself in a heap of furs beside a small fire that had long since sputtered out. Even swaddled as she was, she still shivered, the temperature outside the cave below freezing, with the temperature inside only a few degrees better.

  Maximus felt a stab of anger at himself for not having been here to shelter her from the cold.

  It felt like his responsibility. To protect and provide for her.

  And somehow, after the last few hours of simply sitting still and silent beside the Tiger King, he’d come to accept this responsibility more readily. It wasn’t that his mind had changed or been made up; it was more that his instincts overrode his mind.

  He lay down behind her and pulled her into the heat of his body.

  Immediately, she turned to face him, burrowing desperately against him, her icy hands digging beneath his shirt and jacket to flatten against his stomach, making his muscles contract into bands of steel at her frigid touch.

  She tucked her frozen nose into the crook of his neck and nuzzled affectionately in sleep.

  “Mine,” he heard her rasp in a slurred growl.

  Maximus closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her.

  He released a sigh of acceptance as he drifted into slumber.

  It felt right when he followed his instincts. Or at the very least not fight them.

  It felt right to be claimed by her. To give in to her.

  Tomorrow, he would Claim her too.

  In the last years of 2nd century AD, Roman outpost of North Africa.

  The “boy” was in his third decade, though he’d stopped aging at twenty summers as most Dark Ones did.

  He continued to grow in physical strength and battle prowess, however, as a Roman general who’d led tens of thousands of men into battle for several different emperors.

  After the reign of Marcus Aurelius, his son Commodus all but ruined the Empire. When Commodus’s bloody time on the throne was done, there was the year of the Five Emperors, when one after the other, claimants to the throne got murdered and executed in the political upheaval that ensued.

  The chaos and confusion that descended upon the Roman Empire was the perfect opportunity for the “boy” to make his mark.

  He’d joined the Legionaries as a common foot soldier when he was fourteen, having scraped and stole to live before that. He’d had to fend for himself after he ran away from Mistress Circe’s citadel, ever fearful that someone would find him and hunt him down for killing the Mistress.

  No one had come for him. No one helped him either.

  He’d almost starved to death before he finally figured out how to beguile humans into Consenting to give him blood. Sometimes, he benefited from the kindness of villagers. Sometimes, he had to pay with his body for the blood he needed to survive. He learned everything the hard way, with only himself as a guide.

  Trial and error. Life and death. He didn’t know there could be a different existence other than the one he had, and he didn’t have the luxury to think too hard about it.

  The military was an answered prayer. As long as he showed he could fight, as long as he could keep up with the relentless marches across the vast Empire, he had a place with the soldiers.

  He had food, shelter, clothes and shoes. And when they raided enemy camps, he could take his plunder like the others. But instead of coins and sometimes slaves, he took blood and souls. It was only hundreds of years later, when he’d become an integrated member of Dark society that he comprehended the law against taking human souls.

  He quickly shot up the ranks of the Roman Legions, his fighting skills nigh legendary. The Emperor Severus himself gave Maximus his name. Continuing to call him “boy” and later “soldier” no longer seemed appropriate for such a mighty warrior upon whose shoulders wars were won.

  Finally, he was known as Maximus Justus Copernicus, Supreme Commander. It was the highest honor and title bestowed upon any Roman General.

  The Emperor had even bequeathed him a small estate and a patch of land to farm should he ever feel the need to settle down, take a wife and sire sons—in between waging wars of course. The Emperor could not afford to lose his fiercest general, but he could reward him with some material comforts.

  Maximus didn’t need comforts. His place was with his men. Despite his questionable beginnings, the pale, gangly little boy who was rejected by his own vampire horde was embraced as a leader among humans.

  But he would always be “other.”

  He would never truly fit in. He knew this and accepted it.

  Sometimes though…sometimes he wanted a reprieve from the loneliness. The daunting, soul-crushing prospect of being forever alone.

  He continued to build his powers regardless of the experience gained from wars and campaigns, because the longer a Dark One lived, the stronger he became.

  He was famous for ambushing enemies at night, like a stealthy feline predator. And he was just as fearsome during the day.

  Strangely, he’d never felt the need to sleep as irresistibly as others of his Kind. He thought it might be due to the adrenaline of battle. In any case, he did not know other vampires with whom to confer.

  Presently, Maximus and his troops were stationed in North Africa. They were on their way to Numidia to inspect the auxiliaries and to make sure the local garrisons were in good condition. It was late at night after most of the camp had gone to sleep.

  He was looking forward to relaxing in his tent as well, for a nubile young wench was awaiting him there. It was one of the perks he had as Supreme Commander, one of the “comforts” he readily took.

  Blood and body to assuage his needs. He’d learned by now to avoid taking the souls of lives he didn’t intend to end.

  Everywhere they went, if there were village women willing to lie with the soldiers, he would always have first choice. It didn’t matter though, because the women always chose him first.

  To Maximus, one woman was just the same as another. If a female chose him, he didn’t gainsay her.

  It was his power and rank that attracted them. It was his looks and his body, though he seemed oblivious to his own physical beauty. It was also the instinctual knowledge that he would never demand more than what they were willing to give.

  Maximus’s troops were famous for abiding strictly to a code of honor. They never raped and pillaged. They fought and defeated men in battle, but they left the women and children alone. They always treated the conquered with respect.

  “General!” one of the younger soldiers, a boy who had yet to grow chest hair, called out excitedly as he came bounding from the darkened hills on the edge of the camp.

  “You must come and see! We found something!”

  Maximus slid a glance toward his torch-lit tent and saw the outline of a feminine shape in the process of removing her tunic.

  He sighed. His soldiers came first. The wench would have to wait.

  “What is it, Tobias? If it’s only another rattle snake, I’m going to smack you upside the head.”

  “Come on! You have to see for yourself!”


  The boy usually took pains to hide his tender age by acting more manly, more reserved. But he was entirely his fifteen-year-old self at the moment, his excitement irrepressible.

  Maximus followed him to a copse of trees where a few of his men and some of the younger soldiers gathered around something snarling and growling within their tight circle that they hid from view.

  The ring of spectators parted immediately to accommodate him as he drew near, and finally he saw what all the commotion was about.

  A young black panther was twisted in some rope and netting, fighting furiously to get free. It was still a cub, probably just recently separately from its mother.

  Maximus leaned in to get a better look as the feline twisted and pedaled its paws, gnawing at the rope and net with its sharp teeth.

  A female cub.

  A furious, spit-fire wildcat.

  One of the soldiers got a little too close, and the feline pounced in his direction, snarling with aggression. The netting prevented her from making contact, but the violence of her action made the soldier leap back in alarm.

  “Leave,” Maximus ordered quietly, his voice calm and authoritative.

  “But—” Tobias wanted to object.

  At a warning glance from his general, he dutifully left with the others.

  And then, it was only Maximus and the panther.

  The feline stilled and crouched low, ears back, teeth bared. Her sides heaved from her exertions, but the feral growl she continuously emitted deep from her throat warned him that she wasn’t exhausted enough to roll over and make things easy for him.

  Maximus balanced his weight on the balls of his feet in a crouch as well. He was close enough that if the panther wanted to lash out, she could probably do serious damage even through the netting. But he was hoping she wouldn’t.

  “Got yourself into a bit of a fix, eh?” he said softly, quirking a corner of his mouth up.

  Normally when confronted with a hissing, mean-looking animal, he wasn’t so complacent. But this particular beast reminded him a little of the kitten he played with in the Mistress’s Citadel.

  Fearless. Full of energy. Ready to conquer the world, though she was barely out of kitten-hood herself.