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 counterpoin
t 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.
She’d lure the demon to the gardens, allow him to confront her there and deal with the situation once and for all.
Keeping her pace steady but purposeful, she weaved through Kings Cross, sticking to the busiest streets. Keeping to the populated areas meant the demon would be less likely to attack.
If that indeed was what he’d intended to do.
What else would it be, Inari? You think he wants to discuss global warming?
She ignored the question.
The lights and thrum of Kings Cross gave way to the opulence of Woolloomooloo. It was just as busy, but with an entirely different class of pedestrian moving over the footpaths. The cafes here all exuded a pretentious air, those sitting in the designer chairs sipping their soy lattes and espressos wrapped in a conceited attitude of superiority. The were no strip clubs to be seen in Woolloomooloo, rather subdued restaurants, boutique galleries and heritage-listed pubs lined the streets, all so trendy as to defy good taste in Inari’s opinion. Rows of BMWs, Audis and Jags sat in silent luxury by the kerbs, waiting on their owners to sink themselves into their leather interiors and zoom off into the night. More than one Australian celebrity called Woolloomooloo home, but the only malevolent beings Inari had ever encountered in the suburb were bored trophy wives sharpening their perfectly manicured nails on gossip.
She didn’t slow her stride as she made her way through the designer-dressed crowd. The briny tang of Sydney Harbor had begun to filter into every breath she took, tickling her sinuses and making her mouth a tad salty, which could only mean the Botanic Gardens were close. Very close.
Inari lengthened her stride, trying to not look like she was in a hurry.
As soon as the shadows engulfed them she had no doubt the fun would begin, and to be honest, she was sick of the burning itch on the back of her neck.
Just out of interest, have you noticed your neck doesn’t prickle when Ezryn is near? Or looks at you? What does that mean, hmm?
Inari rolled her eyes and walked faster. By the Powers, could she not go a whole fifteen minutes without thinking of the damn bloodsucker?
Obviously not. Still, why doesn’t your neck burn when he is—
She shut the thought down, grinding her teeth as she rounded a corner. The last corner before her destination spread out before her—the Royal Botanic Gardens, an area perfect for an ambush. Dark, bushy. Full of hidden nooks and crannies, massive overhanging branches.
And unpopulated.
Without slowing down, she entered the parkland, leaving the revealing lights and bustling activity of the city streets behind her. The sun had sunk far enough below the horizon to shroud everything in ash-gray shadows and gloomy light, making it difficult to see beyond a few feet.
Adrenaline coursed through Inari’s veins, its force heightened by her Principatus soul and power. Every muscle in her body drew tight, ready to fight. Every fiber in her body welcomed it. She needed this diversion. She really did. She needed to bring pain to something bad, something evil. So much more than she wanted to acknowledge.
The night air turned moist, sweet with the scents of an entire world of different flora all growing in one area. English roses, native lilies, exotic cherry blossoms, hardy desert blooms and pungent herbs all mingled together, turning each breath she took into a smorgasbord of sensory stimulation that would have made her smile if not for her rather insidious purpose for being here. Beneath her feet, the smooth concrete path gave way to gravel. The sound of her boots crunched against the rough stones shattering the peaceful silence. A bird burst from a nearby callistemon, screeching its protest at being disturbed as it flew away.
Inari continued deeper into the gardens, keeping her shoulders loose and her stride casual. The hulking building of the New South Wales Art Gallery sat to her far left, aglow with warm orange light. She veered right, putting more distance between herself and the building. At this time of night the gallery was closed, but that didn’t mean she wanted to risk some foolish tourist admiring the building or a late-night worker stumbling upon her as she fought with the—
Something slammed into her back, hard, smashing her to the ground at the exact second the back of her neck erupted in a raging inferno.
“Finally got you alone, cunt.”
The guttural snarl sank into her ear, familiar and repulsive at once, the putrescent stench of cloying decay flaying the side of her face with each word. Her stomach lurched.
The empathic leech demon. The one she’d rejected over a century ago.
The one who’d killed Tianya.
Inari’s heart stopped. For a split second. Oh, fuck.
Thick fingers wrapped around her throat, driving into her flesh. Choking her. Heart leaping into furious flight, she flattened her palms to the ground and shoved her body upward, a violent jolt that threw the leech off balance. He tumbled to the ground and she lashed out with her foot, driving the toe of her boot into his flabby belly. A squishy sound punctuated the blow, and she gritted her teeth in a feral grin.
“Bitch!” the leech spat, scrambling at her on all fours.
She leapt to her feet and smashed her pointed heel into his face, driving him back in a screaming arc. “You have no idea how painful I’m going to make this for you,” she growled, stalking toward him, hate flooding her veins. “I’m going to make you suffer so much for what you did to my sister.”
The leech leered up at her, blood oozing from his mashed nose and punctured cheek. “You know, of course, when I couldn’t have you I took the next best thing, just like you told me to. Your sister. Sweet little thing she was too. So tasty and innocent.”
Inari hissed, throwing herself at him. Her fingers hooked in his lank, greasy hair before he could dodge her, and she yanked his head downward, slamming his face into the upward trajectory of her knee. The sound of splintering bone filled her with cold rapture and, deep within, her Principatus force roared.
She smashed her knee to his face once more, the blow flinging him backward. She leapt at him again, her blood on fire, hate and rage engulfing her.
She staggered back as he snapped his leg out in a wild sidekick and punched his foot into her belly, followed by another to her ribs. “I’m not that easy to kill, bitch.” He sprung upright and smashed his fist into the side of her face.
Dark Embrace (Principatus) Page 15
