Seduced By Darkness

by Delilah Devlin

  It seemed inconceivable.

  Yet, she’d seen him with her own eyes. Heard him with her own ears. Had she gotten it right? Could she have jumped to conclusions?

  Her foot eased off the gas, slowing while her mind reengaged.

  Then she caught the flash of headlights in her rearview mirror. A truck’s headlights. The bastard from the parking lot? With Nic?

  Her heart slowed, her mind slipped into a numb state where muscle memory handled the SUV, keeping her on the road and pointing in the direction of home.

  When the gates appeared in front of her, she slammed on her brakes and slowed, rolling down her window to shout a warning to the gatekeeper. Only no one was there.

  And the gates were wide open.

  Had Nicolas’s friends already struck? She pulled beyond the gate, cognizant the truck wasn’t far behind her and turned off her headlights, rolling past the gate to park in the shadows of trees alongside the road.

  Then she stepped out, stripped her upper body of impediments and popped her wings. Taking a running head start, she lifted swiftly, flying over the tall concrete and brick wall surrounding the compound. She flew straight for the house, uneasy at finding the sprawling, white Victorian mansion cloaked in darkness like a pale ghost.

  She circled overhead then landed on a gabled rooftop, crouching when the truck’s headlights passed through the gates, more vehicles pulling in behind it to line up side-by-side, dark-clad figures spilling from them to take up positions throughout the grounds.

  What the hell was happening inside? Did they know they were under attack? She stepped lightly over the peak of the roof, peering over the backside of the mansion toward the security force’s barracks. Even with her sensitive night vision, she detected no movement.

  Then she saw a figure and then another crashing through bushes, telltale jerking movements indicating zombies were on the premises. She cursed, wishing she hadn’t been so quick to drop her weapon when she’d stripped.

  She ran for the edge of the roof and soared toward the barracks, determined to raid the arsenal for a firearm, and wondering how she’d manage to take on zombies and an army of rogues all by herself, when the sound of wind catching the edge of wings powering toward her halted her in midair.

  Alex flew into view, Natalie at his side. He drew up, hovering in front of her and beckoned her with a wave toward the barracks.

  What the hell were they doing here?

  No time to ask. At the entrance of the barracks she touched down alongside them, and they filed silently inside, rushing down the long corridor toward the arms room. The door was shut. She hit the key pad, glad they hadn’t bothered to change the number in the last ten years, waited impatiently for the faint snick of the lock releasing, and slammed her hand down on the lever to open it.

  Once inside the room, she and Alex went straight for the rack of weapons, standing chained in a long rack. “Natalie, get the rounds from the lockboxes behind you,” she whispered, as she slid her hand beneath the desk for the hidden key Nicolas left for emergencies in a magnetic case. She unlocked the chain and slid three rifles from the end of the rack.

  Silently, they loaded their weapons, slipping more rounds into their pockets.

  “Head shots, only,” she reminded them.

  Then they were racing for the exit. They met Rene as he barreled through the door. “Did you see? Fucking zombies,” he whispered, reaching for the weapon Natalie slapped across his palm.

  Then Nicolas entered, his rogues at his back.

  Chessa lifted her weapon and aimed it straight at his heart.

  “You know that won’t stop me,” Nicolas said, his face hard, his expression remote.

  “It’ll sure hurt like hell,” she said, keeping her tone flat. “That’s good enough for me.”

  “I’m not feeling the love,” Alex said quietly behind her.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Nicolas said. “He’s on the grounds.”

  Who “he” was didn’t need to be said.

  “Why shouldn’t I blow a hole right through you? Give me one good reason,” she said, her voice even. Deadly.

  “Hell hath no fury,” Alex drawled. “But I’d second him on the fact this isn’t the time for a lover’s spat.”

  “This is no spat,” Chessa said, her finger slipping around the trigger.

  Nicolas set his hands on his hips, and his brows lowered in an irritated frown.

  The one Nicolas had called Malcolm uttered a curse and stepped from behind Nic, raising his hands. He was as tall as Nic, his brown hair pulled back in a ponytail to reveal a firm, rugged jaw. Probably ex-military by the look of his broad shoulders and thick arms. “You need us, Chessa Tomas.” To Nicolas, he muttered, “Looks like she still needs some work, buddy.”

  “You arrange this?” Chessa snarled at Nicolas. “This part of your plan?”

  Nicolas’s dark brows snapped together. “Of course not. This isn’t anyone’s plan but that fucking demon’s.”

  “And you expect me to believe you, why?”

  “Because I’d never cause you harm,” he said, his voice rising. “You know that.”

  Chessa firmed her lips to keep them from trembling. “You already have,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  A muscle flexed along his jaw. “Princess, this isn’t the time. We’ll talk later.”

  “Later, you’ll be dead.”

  “So be it. In the meantime, let us get to the arsenal.”

  Alex wrapped his hand around the barrel of her weapon and pushed it toward the ceiling. “He’s right. Let them pass.”

  “Because you know how this ends?” she gritted out.

  “Of course, I don’t. Simon only tells me so much. But I do know Nicolas’s not going to hurt those he’s loyal to,” he said, his gaze narrowing on Nic, until Nicolas nodded.

  She bit out a curse and shoved past the men gathered at the door. “Just keep out of my line of sight, or I swear I’ll fill your asses with lead.”

  Low rumbling laughter followed her outside, but she didn’t have time to ponder what the hell they thought was so damn funny. The first zombie sped into view and she dropped to her knee, aimed a laser sight between its eyes, and pulled back the trigger.

  She jumped up as it slid to the ground, ready to take another on and pushing to the back of her mind the fact the compound was deserted except for the rogues and the walking corpses. No one was rushing to their aid. At least she hadn’t found any Born bodies or piles of smoking ash.

  Behind her, shuffling footsteps came at a fast pace. She spun on her heels, slamming the stock of her rifle into her shoulder, but she didn’t get a chance to squeeze off a shot. The head of the gaping zombie exploded like a water balloon, splattering her with brain and blood.

  “Yuck! Could you let him get any closer,” she snarled at Alex who was already facing away to find the next target. All around them, Nicolas’s men slipped into the shadows, the sound of sporadic gunfire filling the night as they dropped zombies like rag dolls in their tracks.

  And like a bag of popcorn too long in the microwave, the pops slowed, until all that remained was the stench of carbon and putrified bodies. Slowly, the team gathered outside the barracks.

  They’d fought like a military team. Trained, controlled. Working with silent precision. Rather like Ardeal’s own security force.

  As well, they should. Nicolas had trained them both.

  Chessa glanced around quickly and realized that Alex, Natalie, and Rene had faded away quickly, which was just as well. Alex’s nature wasn’t ready to be revealed just yet. Although why she felt any loyalty to the bastard, she didn’t know.

  She straightened her shoulders as Nicolas stepped in front of her. His expression was remote, his jaw firmed. Her heart sank. Now that the danger had passed, the enormity of what he planned slammed into her hard.

  He’d betrayed her. He’d betrayed them all. But why?

  He glanced over his shoulders at the team assembling around the
m. “Search the grounds. We have to figure out what the hell’s happening here.”

  With their weapons still held in meaty fists, the men turned. Malcolm gestured with one hand, silently giving the orders to disseminate the team.

  Dressed in dark clothing, they started to fade into the shadows.

  Only to halt in their tracks, when men and women melted from beneath trailing fronds of Spanish moss and stepped from behind thick oak trunks.

  They too wore black SWAT gear, but carried crossbows, the stocks nestled against their shoulders as they took aim on the rogues.

  Chessa realized with a start she hadn’t even noticed the weapons had been missing from the opposite side of the arms room, she’d been so intent on getting to the rifles. But then, she’d been worried about zombies, not dusting vampires.

  Everyone froze. For a long tense second, they stared at each other, and then Nicolas gave a sharp nod and the rogues dropped their weapons to the ground and raised their hands.

  Chessa blew out a breath, her heart thudding loudly in her chest. He’d surrendered? Just like that? His expression was shuttered, empty. His gaze raised above the line of the security team as they fanned around them, ringing them.

  From above, came the sound of wings cracking like bed-sheets in a stiff wind. Chessa turned to see Inanna and Erika touch down in a pool of moonlight in front of Ardeal’s security force.

  Chessa trembled, her anger at Nicolas’s betrayal draining away as a cold knot of fear settled in her stomach.

  If hot fury had reflected in Inanna’s expression, she would have understood, even been relieved, but the cold tension that tightened the matriarch’s expression as she held her lover’s gaze, set Chessa’s heartbeat pounding faster. Oh God, she’s going to kill him.

  She had to distract Inanna long enough to think of a way to save him. “So, how did you know they were coming?” she blurted into the silence.

  Inanna’s glance swung toward her, her expression losing a little of the grim tension. Pasqual walked up behind Inanna with a smirk on his face, and Inanna gave him an approving glance. “Someone sounded the alarm, saying rogues were entering Ardeal.”

  “Good thing Nic and his men were about,” Chessa brazened out. “They followed the zombies here.”

  “How convenient,” Inanna murmured, “that the trap we laid for the zombies caught these men. We left the gates opened and let them come inside.” She turned to Nicolas, stepping close to him. “Your force was impressive.”

  His jaw flexed, but he didn’t meet her gaze, keeping it pinned to the distance. “I enjoy my work,” he rasped.

  Inanna curved a palm around his cheek. A muscle flinched. She gripped his hair and pulled his face toward hers, capturing his glance at last. “I really wish you had trusted me more,” she said softly. Over her shoulder, she raised her voice, “Take him to the room.”

  As members of the team swarmed around Nic, Inanna turned to Chessa, her lashes sweeping downward. A frown wrinkled her smooth forehead.

  She stepped closer, her naked chest rising sharply on an indrawn breath.

  Chessa lifted her chin, feeling a blanket of suffocating dread settle around her shoulders.

  Inanna’s hand lifted to touch Chessa’s breast, and she squeezed it.

  Chessa couldn’t help wincing, her nipples were beyond sensitive.

  The matriarch’s lips curved in a mirthless smile, and her hand slipped down Chessa’s belly. “Interesting,” she purred. “You’ve been a busy girl. Take this one to the room as well.”

  Chessa supposed she could try to escape, take to the sky, but with so many armed men around her, she wasn’t willing to risk the life of the child she carried inside her. With a dull nod to Inanna, she let herself be led toward the house where she’d grown up as lights flickered inside then glowed, beckoning her up the winding iron staircase to the same room Natalie and Rene had been imprisoned the first days of Natalie’s season.

  The same room she’d observed through television monitors while the man she thought she loved was taken bite by bite by another woman.

  And now she was to stay there, but for how long? If Alex was correct, the sabat would demand her death. The child she bore would be too much of a threat to the balance of their powers.

  The door opened, and her guard gestured for her to step inside. Once in the room, there would be no escape. Iron bars covered the tiny window. Armed guards would remain outside the door for the length of her imprisonment.

  Nicolas waited inside. She wished Inanna had given her another room, but likely she didn’t want to split the guards further among so many prisoners.

  Taking a deep breath to gird herself for the coming confrontation, she entered, flinching at the snick of the lock as it closed behind her.

  Her gaze found Nicolas bound to the bed, manacles around his hands and feet, stretched out like a supplicant. Nude.

  Gone, too, was the quiet surrender he’d worn like a mask when he’d confronted Inanna. Fury battled in his expression as he shook the chains that draped beyond the edge of the mattress.

  For a moment she felt exultant as righteous anger washed over her. This humiliation was no more than he deserved.

  And yet somehow, even chained, his power wasn’t diminished. His long, lean frame glistened with sweat, strength radiating from the sculpted muscle of his abdomen and arms as he struggled against the manacles. She remembered every time he’d mastered her, every time she’d come screaming, sobbing in his arms.

  Just looking at him, filled her with aching longing for what should have been. She would lose again, and this time Nicolas wouldn’t be there to draw her back from the sunlight.

  “Damn you, Nicolas,” she whispered. “Why did you make me love you?”

  CHAPTER

  17

  Nicolas avoided meeting her gaze when she strode into the room. He didn’t want to see hatred in her eyes. However, the aching regret in her voice clamped around his chest like a vise.

  He stopped fighting the chains and lay back, lifting his gaze to find her eyes glassy with unshed tears, recrimination crimping the corners of her mouth. Fighting for stoicism, he waited to see what more she might say. He needed a clue how she felt about him now. Whether she was willing to fight for him…for them. He’d let her talk first, because honestly, he didn’t know what he could say that would make her understand how he’d come to be here.

  He wasn’t sure he understood himself. Maybe he’d had a death wish after outliving nearly everyone he’d ever loved. The longer he’d lived, the strictures of his existence had tightened, smothering him.

  Would she understand he’d never truly accepted becoming anyone’s minion—not Inanna’s, certainly not hers. It had been a poison brewing for a very long time until he’d set into motion plans he couldn’t unravel. But he’d hesitated at the last moment when he realized there was something worthwhile enough for him to consider surrendering his pride, his freedom.

  And she stood in front of him now with tears in her eyes, looking fragile, brittle—looking ready to rage or cry.

  He hoped she’d use rage to battle the hurt he’d done her, because he wasn’t in any position to soothe her. If she folded now, he wouldn’t be there to draw her back into the shadows.

  Her glance seemed to linger over his body, perhaps remembering the loving they’d shared. Unbidden, his cock stirred where it lay curved along his thigh.

  “I need a shower,” she choked out and headed to the bathroom.

  Without a clue what was going through her mind, he closed his eyes, cursing himself. He’d failed her, just as he had Anaïs.

  Outside Poitiers, France

  Nicolas trod down the dark steps to the room beneath the house where the prisoner lived. He was late, having decided to clear his mind with a ride before dawn on the new horse Inanna had gifted him after he’d finally left his marriage bed. A black gelding with a fiery temperament. His body ached deliciously. So much time in bed had left him a little soft.

 
He smiled at the thought of mentioning that to Anaïs. She’d blush adoringly and offer a delicious remedy. How had he lived before having women in his life? How could Armand bear the loneliness and the ache of unquenched desires?

  His martyrdom had made him a surly, dour companion of late.

  Guilt niggled at Nicolas’s conscience that he really ought to have invited him to join him for the ride. They’d seen little of each other, Armand preferring his prayers and the dank cellar beneath the house to the delights enjoyed by the inhabitants above.

  In fact, Nicolas hoped to find him here now, to see whether he could tempt him with a game or a walk—anything to get him past the disappointment that darkened his face each time he caught a glimpse of Nicolas with his lovers.

  This day, the dungeon seemed particularly gloomy, the air damp and chilled. Inanna called it a dungeon, but there were only three rooms. One for storage for the kitchen, one for the guards to while away the hours of their duty, and the demon’s room.

  While Nicolas conceded something lived inside the sarcophagus, for he’d heard its scrape for himself, he didn’t think too deeply concerning its nature.

  Let Armand recite his prayers each time he entered the last room to inspect the seal. Nicolas trusted the heavy stone cover and the thick bands they’d tied around it.

  As he entered the guard’s room, he hesitated. It was empty. Thinking the men must be in the last chamber, he lifted a torch from its sconce and walked inside.

  His heart froze for second as light flickered over the bodies strewn over the floor. His brother’s wasn’t among them.

  The sarcophagus lid lay across the chest of one of the guards. From the spray of blood that dotted his face the force with which it had been thrown had crushed him. The other man lay slumped against the wall, a huge hole in his upper belly.

  A quick glance into the coffin, and his fears were confirmed. The creature they’d imprisoned, tied inside the sarcophagus, fed to keep his body fleshy and whole, had died, swallowing his own vomit. The body lay inside, sightless eyes staring upward. The men littering the floor served as proof of the tale Inanna had told. The demon Devourer had escaped death.