Darkness Burning

by Delilah Devlin

  At last, Inanna had made the announcement that they should begin, and that Nicolas should take Chessa’s seat. Silence had greeted her suggestion.

  Until one woman, her lips pressing into a thin line, had remarked, “We have matters to discuss that should remain cloaked.”

  “If they are matters that concern the sabat, then it is entirely appropriate that Nico attend.”

  The woman’s eyebrows had risen. “You say that as though he will preside with us.”

  “Have I not made my intention clear by allowing him among us?”

  The affect had been like a small incendiary explosive going off. Shocked silence, followed in moments by a chorus of shrill voices.

  Inanna had simply smiled her catlike smile and taken her chair, waving him to his new seat while the others had fussed. Finally, they’d quietly taken their seats, realizing Inanna had had no intention of explaining or defending her decision. It had been made. Nothing they could do about it now.

  However, the stares aimed his way did not abate.

  Some were openly lustful, wondering just what he might have done to earn his unprecedented seat. Some were resentful. Some were so cold that he knew himself a marked man.

  In fact, he was the only man sitting at the table, and the only one allowed admittance to a meeting of the sabat. Ever.

  The council disliked change of any kind. Yet another change had been made before his inclusion had even been announced to the body—she had arrived just after they had seated themselves.

  A member of the Wolfen Nation, from the South-Central clan, now sat beside him. Her scent wafted softly over him, feminine, light, a little minty for his tastes—not a hint of dog.

  Still, Nicolas tightened, finding his gaze drawn to her time and again. Scenting a natural adversary. Her dark brown hair glinted red in the candlelight shining from the chandelier above the table. Her deep navy gown clung to every curve of her tall, statuesque figure, the crystals studding the gown reflecting prisms of light against the damask tablecloth. Beautiful and powerful, her regal status was stamped on her handsome features.

  Inanna bristled in her seat, eying the were as though she expected her to bare her canines and lunge across the table at any time—not that her expression reflected any fear. Pure unadulterated revulsion and fury shone in her trembling body and narrowed eyes.

  Her momentary triumph had been trumped by the other member’s audacious move.

  Nicolas had to hand it to the wolf. She sat cool as a cucumber, appearing oblivious to Inanna’s rage. But then she hadn’t been invited by their host, the matriarch and oldest living vampire on the continent.

  “What is she doing here?” Inanna demanded, her normally singsong voice sounding tight and bitten.

  “Her presence is required, Grandmère,” murmured the woman beside Inanna, her tension evident in the way her hand played with the pendant dangling between her small breasts. Brunette with flawless skin and tilted, almond-shaped eyes, Cecily was closest to Inanna’s age, having been born into the Dacian era, when vampires had moved freely through that ancient kingdom’s court.

  “Required?” Inanna kept her tone even and her gaze glued to the nightmare sitting across the table from her. “Then why was I not included in the conversation? As your hostess, I would have liked to prepare for our guest.”

  “As council members, why were we not included in the conversation that granted Nicolas a seat among us?” Apparently Cecily had been chosen the spokesperson, because none of the remaining eleven members so much as twitched.

  “What I do as your leader should not be questioned. Nico has earned his seat. We have need of his skills.”

  “The way I heard it, he usurped his place at this table through insurrection.”

  “An impressive show of force,” Inanna said, a small, tight smile curving her lips. Her gaze locked with his. “Nico can be trusted. He is bonded to me. As to that little insurrection, he acted in our best interests, no harm or foul intended. Sometimes, we are too intransigent, too married to our customs to see that times change. The Revenants demanded a voice for their gift of loyalty. Nico will be their voice.”

  “We should have been consulted,” Cecily said, red seeping into her cheeks.

  “Cecily,” Inanna said, the lilt more prominent now. “Are you upset because he’s Revenant, or because he’s male?”

  A chirping laugh followed Inanna’s cutting remark. It came from Madrigal, who’d also arrived from Miami with Cecily. Their long-standing affair was no secret, but bringing attention to Cecily’s preference for the company of women had scored a direct hit.

  The vain and vapid Madrigal didn’t understand the set down.

  Cecily gave Madrigal a quelling glare. “Nico’s insurrection and your solution to his defiance cause us concern, but it is not the only reason we’re here.”

  “To say I was surprised at your summons would be an understatement of my concern,” Inanna said softly.

  Nicolas settled back into his chair, already bored with the proceedings. The women talked in circles, chose their words as a warrior might his weapons. He wished the bloody hell they’d get to the point.

  “There is concern your control over this vital region is slipping. Nico’s revolt is only one incident. Rogues continue to thumb their noses at our authority here, roaming openly, choosing when to sire a mate, choosing to sire companions—without thought to consequences, because there are none. They continue to hunt our breeders and kill them to force our extinction.” She took a deep breath and locked gazes with Inanna. “Then there is the matter of the Grizashiat.”

  Inanna reached for the wineglass in front of her and curled her fingers around its base. “You would hold me responsible for the act of nature that released him from his sarcophagus?”

  “Of course not, but you have proven ineffective in recapturing him.”

  “We cannot find him until he makes a move against us. He will try to infiltrate Ardeal. We have plans in place to trap him.”

  Cecily drew a deep breath, her gaze narrowing. “And what about the daywalker?”

  “A daywalker?” Inanna sounded bored. “There is no proof. Perhaps it is an urban myth.”

  “How can you know for sure? Do you even know what your vampires breed? Born females residing outside your purview, coming into season uncontrolled, their mates unknown to us. It was bad enough when a mage intermarried with one of your own.”

  Nicolas stiffened at this last charge. She spoke of Chessa; her father had been a natural mage, and both her parents had been sentenced to death for crossing that boundary.

  Cecily’s eyes glittered with malice. “Can you tell us a male Born does not exist?”

  Inanna’s chin rose. Her glance swept each member inside the chamber, resting at last on Nicolas. “If a male exists, we shall find him.”

  “Not without help,” Cecily bit out.

  “Yours?” Inanna scoffed. “I assure you we do not need to augment our force.”

  Cecily’s smile held a hint of triumph. “Who better than a wolf to track down an abomination?”

  Alex slipped back into the salon, giving one quick, wary glance to the wine-colored sofa where Erika had cavorted earlier with her studs. When he didn’t find her, he heaved a sigh of relief. The salon was much quieter, the murmurings less heated. Most had sated their appetites and now simply cuddled in various stages of undress.

  Alex hovered near the entrance to the foyer, keeping an eye on the guarded door at the center of the twin staircases. When the sabat adjourned, he’d grab Nicolas. The sooner he gathered the information he needed, the sooner he could get out of here. Each moment he lingered, he increased his risk of detection.

  He couldn’t wait to get home. To slide back into surroundings that didn’t hide a thousand intrigues. Home was the unpretentious one-room apartment his mother had first rented from Simon when she’d arrived in New Orleans. When she’d slipped through the portal into ancient Scotland, the apartment had waited for him. He’d cla
imed it the day after she’d left; that seven hundred years had passed was only a relative thing for the Broussards.

  From the corner of his eye, he noted the door opening. A woman wearing a dark blue dress exited. The door shut behind her and he relaxed, until she drew nearer the salon doorway. Something in the way she moved, her head held high, her tall, stately body carried with a warrior’s confidence, struck a familiar chord….

  Gabriella! Too late to escape, he knew the exact moment she caught his scent—her head jerked to the left, then the right, as her nostrils flared.

  Alex stepped into the foyer, directly into her path, and slid his arm around her waist, turning her toward the salon.

  Gabriella’s back stiffened, and she struggled against his hold. “Just one shout,” she whispered furiously, “and they’ll fall on you like ravening beasts.”

  “So why aren’t you screaming?” he murmured close to her ear. “Are you too proud to be found caught off guard? Or are you curious why I’m here in plain sight?”

  Her gaze narrowed. “You were always an arrogant bastard. It’s why I had you killed.” She leaned close and sniffed along his neck and face—as if unable to control her were-instinct to fill her senses with her prey’s scent. “Why aren’t you dead, by the way?”

  “That assassin you sicced on me with the lousy aim?” He tsked and nuzzled her neck in return. “Gabi, couldn’t you have done better? Once I pulled the arrow from my chest, I bit him. You know how good my bite is—he simply forgot I walked away.”

  Changeable as the Louisiana weather, Gabriella leaned back, her lips pouting. “But you never returned. How did you know I was responsible?”

  Alex lifted one brow. “You aren’t the only one with a keen nose, Gabi. You made love to him before you set him on me.”

  “A silly, selfish mistake, but how could I resist? I was already missing you in my bed.” She paused, then threw back her head to laugh. “How galling it will be when they discover you’re here right beneath their noses! The bitches.”

  “Your amusement is doomed to a short life. You won’t reveal me.”

  “But you’re the very reason I’m here. Of course, I didn’t know it would be you, exactly, but I did feel rather nostalgic when I was offered the opportunity to hunt again. It’s been so long since I’ve tasted Born flesh.”

  “Sorry to disappoint, my dear. You will not reveal me, Gabi. I won’t let you.”

  She glanced around the room. “You and who else? I assure you there isn’t a vamp in sight who won’t give chase.”

  “They’ll never get the chance.” He reached into his pocket for his key chain and the crystal dangling from the fob. He warmed it in his hand inside his pocket, then pulled Gabriella close, pressing his lips to hers.

  Light flared around them, and then blinked out.

  Alex opened his eyes to stare into Gabriella’s face. He was waiting for her to stop blinking against the momentary blindness.

  Her scowl was something else he remembered about her. It was not a feminine expression; her face grew surly and dark. Her lips lifted from her white teeth. She jerked out of his arms. “What the hell did you just do, vampire?”

  “I brought you someplace special. My own private bolt-hole. Feel privileged—I haven’t brought a woman here in centuries.”

  Her head swiveled, taking in the small, cozy cavern. Fine Persian rugs covered the floor, and silk tapestries swathed much of the cool, natural stone walls. Candelabras flared bright, lending a golden glow to what was essentially a cave.

  “Where am I, Alex?”

  “Somewhere quiet, where we won’t be disturbed.” He wandered to a small bureau set against one wall and lifted a bottle of wine from his collection. He glanced into the mirror above the bureau. “A drink?” One corner of his mouth lifted. By turning his back, he told her he didn’t consider her a threat.

  Gabriella’s hands fisted at her sides. “Take me back this instant! Do you realize the trouble you will cause?”

  He poured two glasses, turned, and walked to where she stood in the center of the room next to a small smokeless fire burning in a circular pit. “I take it you are in New Orleans under some immunity accord granted by the sabat?” he said coolly as he handed her one of the glasses.

  “Of course,” she spat. “By invitation, which apparently is something you’ll never receive. I was promised safe passage. If I’m harmed in any way, my nation will go to war.”

  “You won’t be missed. I promise.” He handed her a glass, half-expecting her to fling it in his face.

  Instead, she lifted it to her lips and poured it down her throat in a single gulp. “Someone will have seen us ‘pop out.’ Your coven will not be able to keep this a secret for long. I didn’t come to New Orleans alone.”

  “Not my coven. Yet.” Alex stepped closer, close enough to feel the brush of her chest as she inhaled. He lifted his hand to stroke her hair, seeking now to calm her, knowing he had to play to her primal proclivities. “Be assured,” he said softly. “The coven will never know you went missing. This place isn’t in New Orleans; it isn’t even in the same dimension or time. When we are done here, we will return to the exact place from which we exited.”

  She pulled away from his stroking hand. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “Darling,” Alex drawled, knowing he was getting to her. Her nipples sprouted against the heavy silk covering her. “You might as well have a seat. We’ll talk. Get reacquainted. We’ll come to an agreement.”

  “Take me back, and I won’t tell them you were there. I’ll let you have time to flee, for old time’s sake, for what we once were to each other.”

  “Just what were we?” he asked, pretending confusion.

  Her full lips pushed into a moue of disappointment. “Was I really so easy to forget?”

  Alex snorted. Not likely. She’d scored his back countless times, left him spent, legless with exhaustion. A more energetic lover he’d never had. That her loyalties could not be swayed from her pack was at the center of what had killed their relationship.

  God, he was going to have to fuck her. Alex didn’t have to force a smile. His arousal stirred, thick and urgent. “I promise I won’t bite unless you want me to.”

  A low, feral growl reverberated from her throat.

  Without looking up from the glass he’d poured for himself, he said, “Turn and I’ll collar you, bitch.”

  “I’d like to see you try.” The sound of her gown slithering to the floor had his body tightening, readying.

  For the second time that night, a wolf carried him to the ground.

  CHAPTER 9

  He rolled with her, coming over her thickly muscled, lupine body. Her jaws, with their long, jagged rows of teeth, gaped but didn’t snap. Her claws, however, shredded his shirt, drawing blood as they raked his chest.

  Alex wrestled her, flipping her onto her paws, then straddling her body to pin her beneath him as he worked the silver linked collar he’d palmed before leaving the bureau around her thrashing snout. Finally, he dragged it over her head and cinched it tight, strangling her.

  Gabriella gurgled momentarily, then her body transformed, melting beneath him into her naked human form, the silver chain working like the charmed object it was.

  She panted rapidly, her face and body pressed against the carpet, completely at his mercy now. Just as he remembered she liked it.

  Arousal flared hotter in his groin as he stretched over her, his hands reaching to manacle her wrists. “Will you obey me now?” he whispered into her ear.

  Her body shuddered. “Uhnnn…Alex,” she said breathily, her legs parting to display her willingness to submit.

  Ignoring her invitation, he smoothed her hair off her neck, inhaling her scent—warm spice and wild wolf. He pressed a kiss to the chain, noting the delicious shiver that racked her shoulders. He fingered the choker’s clasp, locking it to ensure her continued cooperation, then quickly climbed off her, surreptitiously adjusting his cock.
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br />   “You can’t leave me this way,” she said plaintively, glancing over her shoulder.

  Because he needed her calm and because he couldn’t resist reacquainting himself with her strong, lithe body, he ran his hands along her back and sides, gliding down her quivering flanks to pet and gentle her. “Am I ever cruel?” he drawled, careful not to stroke between her thighs.

  Her bottom lifted, and then undulated down. “Only when it’s needed, darling. And I need, now.” She came up on her hands and knees, arching her back to tilt her pussy upward, her submission clear. “I remember how well you liked our ways, Alex,” she said, tossing back her head and giving him a direct stare—challenge, as always, reflected in her expression.

  Alex suppressed a smile. The woman always led with defiance, but he knew secretly she craved his mastery. He lifted his hand and swatted her ass.

  Her indrawn breath was quickly followed by a low, throaty laugh.

  He glided his hand over one firm, fleshy globe. “That wasn’t meant as foreplay, love. We’re talking.”

  “First?” At his even stare, she huffed, “Fine. Talk away. But afterward, I really do have to scratch an itch.” She rolled to her back and sat up, shaking out her long brown hair behind her.

  “Would you feel more comfortable clothed?” he asked, handing her the crumpled gown. Watching the flex of her toned ass and thighs was wreaking havoc on his libido, and he needed to conclude their business before this encounter took its natural course. He’d only whetted his appetite for sex with sweet Sarah. With Gabriella, he could unleash the wildness inside himself without fear of harming her.

  “Alex,” she said, giving him a reproving look, “you should know I’m always most comfortable in my own skin.” She dropped the dress again and strode to a low-backed sofa, sitting languidly, then slowly raising her long legs to tuck them beneath her on the plush cushion. She draped an arm across the back of the sofa, her breasts lifting with each deep inhalation, waiting like the predator she was as he took his seat at the opposite end. “Now who’s afraid of a little nibble?”