Dark Embrace (Principatus)

by Couper, Lexxie

  Why not let Jacob take care of Harry?

  The dark thought slithered through his anger and he straightened, cold guilt stabbing into his gut. Jacob.

  He leapt to his feet. Damn it, he needed to find his general. Not to turn Jacob loose on his brother—he would never do that, no matter how much his friend wished he would—but to touch base with him. After the unexpected events in Inari’s apartment, he wanted to make sure Jake was okay.

  And apologize for slipping into his head.

  He cast a quick look outside, noting the position of the stars in the sky. On a balmy mid-summer Saturday night like this, he would make it to Jacob’s apartment quicker by foot than he would by car. Sydney’s tourists and partygoers were undoubtedly congesting the traffic to a standstill through the heart of the city. If he stuck to the side streets and alleys he’d be at Woolloomooloo in a heart’s beat.

  Three minutes later, he swung open Jacob’s penthouse door, the eight kilometers between their two residences having passed in a blur. He moved through the minimally luxurious apartment, ignoring a persistent itch in his gut. He knew what it was from—the bond between them grew more agitated with every second away from Inari. If he didn’t slake his thirst on her blood again soon, or at least breathe in her scent and feel her warmth, that agitation would begin to pervert into aggression.

  Halfway across Jacob’s living room floor, he stopped, his silent surroundings finally catching his attention.

  He turned slowly, taking in the still room, the blackened windows, the dark lights and lamps. “Jake?”

  His voice fell in the silence like a soft echo.

  “Jake?”

  Silence.

  A thin ribbon of something close to panic snaked through him, and he frowned.

  “General Ford?”

  Still, there was silence. He moved through the apartment, heading for his friend’s bedroom.

  The king-size bed sat in the middle of the massive room, its bedding inarguably masculine and immaculately pristine and un-rumpled.

  Ezryn frowned, the ribbon of panic becoming a knot. Where the hell was Jacob?

  He walked back to the large windows in the living room and deactivated the opaque tint to study the black waters of Woolloomooloo Bay and the hive of activity skirting it. There wasn’t a sign of Jacob in the crowd but Ezryn hadn’t expected there to be. Jacob had no need for restaurants and cafes, not unless he was cruising for a feed of an entirely different variety, one not catered to on the trendy iPad menus.

  His frown deepened. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his cell phone and punched in Jacob’s number.

  It didn’t ring. Just went straight to the message service. Ezryn hung up on the pre-recorded sound of Jacob’s voice telling him he was, “definitely unable to take your call. I’m probably in the middle of a tasty snack”. His panic knotted tighter. “Damn it, Jake,” he growled under his breath, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Where are you?”

  He glared out the window, eyes narrow. He’d told Jacob to go home. Not just as a friend, but as his master. He’d not only told him to go home, he’d suggested he go home. Jacob should be here.

  But he’s not, Ezryn. Which means…

  Anxious unease reached into his gut at the ominous thought, competing with the bond’s itch and his growing apprehension.

  If Jacob wasn’t here, something had stopped him from being so. Something or someone.

  Closing his eyes, Ezryn forced his muscles to relax. He stood motionless, letting the foreboding silence of the empty penthouse slide over him as he focused his mind on nothing but his friend. He drew his general’s existence into his subconscious. Tuned everything out—including the itch of Inari’s absence—until the only thing in his psyche was Jacob Ford. He was a master vampire probing for his underling’s presence. Searching for him. Seeking…seeking…

  Nothing.

  Not a hint of his croi. It was as if Jacob didn’t exist anymore.

  Ezryn opened his eyes and stared out the window at the life beyond its impenetrable glass, cold disquiet stirring the demon deep within. What the fuck was going on?

  Jacob opened his eyes and squinted at the dense shadows surrounding him, an odd numbness making him feel heavy. Where was he?

  Flashes of sights and sounds came at him, memories, senses—the Principatus, the ravenous hunger she awoke in him, his worry, his frustration, Ezryn arriving, Ezryn entering Inari’s apartment, grabbing her, holding her, ordering him away…

  He frowned.

  He couldn’t remember leaving her apartment. Dark Ones, he couldn’t even remember turning from her door. Had Ezryn done that? Exerted his will over Jacob’s own? And why?

  He peered into the darkness, its inky shadows seeming to writhe and move around him. Where was he now? How did he get here?

  The frustrating memories blurred, grew distorted, tainted by something else. Something like…

  Numb heaviness seemed to wrap around his extremities, a hot blanket that made his stomach churn. He tried to move, tried to lift his hand to his face.

  Excruciating agony ripped through him, tore into his body like jagged teeth. He let out a sharp shout. Something imprisoned his arms.

  He snapped his stare to his left wrist, his right, pain fogging his vision. Thick, silver manacles encircled each one, attached to two taut chains that stretched his arms wide from his body. The two chains were attached to two thick beams of wood on either side of his head.

  Jacob froze, studying each one.

  Cold fury crashed through him and he yanked against his bindings, shutting the unbearable agony from his mind. He was chained to a whipping post. Chained. Some fucking prick had chained him to a fucking whipping post.

  “I must admit, General Ford,” a smug voice sounded in the darkness, and Jacob became completely still, his fury turning to something much, much darker. “I have thought of this moment for a long time.”

  The room exploded in stark white light. It sliced into Jacob’s eyes like shattered glass, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t move.

  Because standing in front of him, dressed in grotesque purple velvet and black leather, was a fat, fleshy version of Ezryn, a wide smile splitting his pale face, thick fangs extended, eyes blazing vile yellow triumph. The idiot overlord himself.

  Haral smirked at him, rubbing his hands together. “A very long time.”

  Letting every second of hate he’d felt for the man shine in his eyes, Jacob fixed the overlord with a level look. “Hello, Fat Harry,” he snarled. “Welcome to Australia.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “He bit me.”

  “You asked him to.”

  Inari lifted her head from her hands and glared up from the floor at her hovering sister. Tianya returned her glare with an altogether too composed expression, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly.

  Inari shook her head, the hardwood floorboards biting into her bare knees and shins. “I didn’t ask him to bind me to him, Ti. The rightful freaking overlord of the freaking vampire race has bound me to him. Forever. The Powers are never going to communicate with me again.”

  Tianya tilted her head to the side, lips curling into an ambiguous smile. “Is that really what’s bothering you, sister?”

  Prickling heat rolled through Inari, an unsettling wave that set her cheeks on fire. “Of course that’s what’s bothering me.” She shifted on the floor, trying her best to look indignant. “The bastard bit me.”

  Her sister cocked an eyebrow. “Ah, but what you’re really worried about is why he bit you, isn’t it?” She moved closer to Inari, not so much a step, but a glide. “Or more to the point, who he bit.”

  A cold finger traced a lazy line up Inari’s spine at Tianya’s observation. She suppressed the want to shiver, opting instead to glare some more at her annoyingly dead and all-too-knowing sister. “I know who he bit, Ti,” she grumbled. “He bit me.”

  Tianya lowered herself onto the armchair before Inari and gave her a le
vel look. “You the woman, or you the succubus?”

  Inari stared at her, motionless, angry and aching. In the very center of her existence, the core of who she was, a pulling sensation itched. A yearning she’d never experienced before but recognized all the same. The bond between her and Ezryn. Even now, tortured by confusion and contempt—both for herself and the arrogant vampire—she wanted to go to him. Wanted to be with him, not just sexually but completely. Wanted to see him, feel him, hear him. Every sense she possessed ached for him, an inescapable itch growing inside her. And despite the distance between them, she knew he felt the very same.

  The bonding bite. Why else would Ezryn have bitten her so if not because of what she was? God, what a fucked-up situation.

  She let out a bitter sigh. “So, I am succubus once more.”

  Tianya shrugged. “Maybe? Maybe not. My long-dead soul says no, but what do I know? I’m a ghost.” She paused, giving Inari a mischievous grin. “But consider this—when you were succubus, you consciously and deliberately fed on the sexual energy of your prey. Have you done that to Ezryn Navarr?”

  Inari stared at her sister, her blood roaring in her ears. There had been no conscious decision to drain the vampire. In fact, she’d fought her desire for Ezryn every time he touched her. And if she had fed on his lust, why did she feel so drained? So exhausted?

  But what other explanation is there, Inari? The moment Ezryn first saw you in the Pleasure Pussy he sank his tongue into your sex. The next time he all but ravished you on a footpath. The time after that he threw you on the bed and fucked you until you both screamed. Why would he do that if not under the influence of succubus force?

  She dragged her hands through her hair and looked at her sister. “I know what a binding bite does to a vampire. Why would he willingly expose himself to such weakness?”

  Tianya gave her another entirely too ambiguous smile. “Love?”

  “Love?” Inari let out another sharp snort. “He’s a vampire, Tianya. He has no soul. He is incapable of love.”

  “There are many creatures in this world with souls who do not love, Inari. You do not need a soul to feel.” Tianya’s smile softened. “A soul does not give you the ability to love, nor the ability to know what is right and what is wrong.” She paused, her eyes clear and direct and intense. “I was loved more deeply, more strongly by my soulless succubus sister than any human I knew.”

  Inari’s throat squeezed tight. Tianya had her there. Her love for her kid sister knew no bound or limits. Never had, never would. Not even death could make it otherwise. She blinked back tears, hating every second of this conversation. Hating that her sister was dead, that she could never hold her or hug her again. Hating that every word Tianya said only made her ache with ridiculous hope. Dangerous, insane hope for a future she’d never dreamed possible.

  Tianya studied her with unreadable eyes. “Does the master vampire make you feel good?”

  Exasperation shot through her. She threw up her hands, her pulse thumping in her neck like a trip hammer. “He makes me feel, period. Happy, sad, furious, insane, scared. Christ, the bastard makes me feel emotions I never knew existed, let alone ones I didn’t think I could experience again. I want to kill him. I want to hold him. By the Powers, I want to spend the rest of eternity just looking at him.” She stopped as prickling heat razed her flesh and the itch in her core erupted. What was she saying?

  She shook her head, fixing her sister with a flat stare. “I hate him.”

  Tianya burst out laughing. “No, you don’t.”

  Inari ground her teeth. “Yes, I do.”

  Her sister raised her eyebrows, a pointed action so similar to her own Inari felt a little chill ripple up her spine. “Because he makes you feel? Are you sure it’s hate in your heart, Inari Chayse?”

  Tianya’s question sank into Inari’s confusion and she stared at her sister, mouth turning dry. Oh, no. Not that. Not…

  “You know what, sis?” Tianya said, her laughter abruptly absent from her voice. “I’m sick of the angst. You’re a three-hundred-year-old demon assassin, not a moping teenage girl with a crush on a vampire. Despite the fact you’ve done nothing but try to kill each other or fuck like rabbits since the second you met, the master vampire makes you happy. Accept it, deal with it and move on.”

  Inari snorted. “Easy words for a ghost, Ti, or whatever the hell you are. I don’t see you moving on.”

  “Ah, but I’m not the Principatus of the family. Nor the succubus.”

  “Were you this annoying alive?”

  “Yes.” A puzzled frown pulled at Tianya’s straight eyebrows. “Have you ever wondered why you were chosen to be reborn a Principatus?”

  Something intangible stirred in Inari’s chest. “Because I chose not to kill an innocent boy barely old enough to be a man when ordered to do so by the First Horseman of the Apocalypse.”

  Tianya tilted her head to the side. “There are many demons out there who, by their own choice, decide not to kill or torture or maim an innocent, and they do not become Principatus. So why you? Haven’t you once wondered why, of all the monsters preying on mankind, you were one to be elevated? Reborn? Don’t you think there must be a reason for that?”

  “The boy was special. I’d never felt a soul more pure. More…divine. Like the soul of the Highest.”

  “He was special. And he became more so. But Inari, were you chosen just because of who you saved? Or because of what you became when reborn as well? A Principatus capable of using fear and lust as a weapon? The two most elemental emotions of them all?”

  An indefinable sensation stirred in Inari’s chest. It spread through her, making her skin prickle and her breath short.

  “I think you still command the power of a sex demon,” Tianya went on, voice completely matter-of-fact. “I don’t think you ever lost it. If you really wanted to, Inari, I believe you could drive a man—or demon—insane with lust without even touching him. Just as you did when you were a succubus.” She paused, a pointed expression on her sweet, innocent face. “What a powerful weapon for an assassin of the Highest to have.”

  Inari blinked.

  Was that possible? Wouldn’t she know?

  Why would you? It’s not like you had lessons on how to be a Principatus. One moment you were a succubus, the next, an assassin of God. One second your head is full of every way possible to make a male orgasm, the next you’re a walking killing machine with a single-minded drive to hunt and destroy all demon kind and a direct download of targets from the Powers. Ven’s the only other Principatus you’ve had any contact with, and you can count the number of words he’s spoken to you on two hands.

  She blinked again and a roaring noise throbbed in her ears.

  Tianya smiled, the expression so warm Inari’s heart ached. “It’s time to let go of your guilt, sis. Time to let go of the fear of who you are, what you are, and face what must be.”

  “What does that mean, Tianya? What exactly ‘must be’? A happy-ever-after with a bloodsucking demon? And not just any bloodsucking demon, but the born leader of them all?”

  “Why not?” Tianya grinned. “I’ve heard of stranger things happening. Like a human child being born to demon parents, for one.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Why?”

  Frustrated, exasperated, scared of what her sister suggested, Inari dropped her head into her hands and scrubbed at her face. “Damn, I hate being confused.”

  “Don’t be confused, In.” Tianya’s soft whisper tickled the back of her neck and a shiver rippled over her skin. “What you want is in your soul. You can feel it, I know you can. It’s like a little itch pulling you where you know you want to be.” There was a brief pause, barely a second, and then Tianya said, “I love you, sis. Forever.”

  Her sister’s words jerked Inari’s head up from her hands and she stared at Tianya. Or would have if she’d still been there.

  “Damn you, Ti,” Inari growled, glaring at the empty space where her sister
had just stood. She grabbed at her bottom lip with her teeth, replaying every word Tianya had spoken.

  Succubus. Assassin. Lust. Love. Everything she had said, Inari knew—knew—to be true. Everything.

  “So what does that mean?”

  Pulling a deep, slow breath, she closed her eyes and an image of Ezryn instantly filled her head, his dark eyes ablaze with undeniable desire, burning with irrefutable anger.

  The itch in her belly flared, powerful and demanding. It pulled her, owning her.

  She let out a ragged sigh. From the very second she’d laid eyes upon Ezryn her world had turned upside down. From the very moment his hands had touched hers, she’d become an emotional, physical and psychological mess. And now here she was, bound to him eternally.

  What do you plan to do about that, Inari? What do you want to do?

  A slow smile curled her lips at the unexpected swell of warmth and acceptance rolling through her. She opened her eyes. “A happy-ever-after with a blood sucker.” She snorted a soft chuckle. “Who would have thought?”

  Now all she had to do was convince said bloodsucker she hadn’t succubussed his ass.

  Before he chanced his own existence and killed her.

  The Pleasure Pussy writhed and pulsed and thrummed around him, a living, breathing testament to the power of sex, lust and desire. Fae strippers copulated on the runway stage, their sublime, ethereal beauty feeding the sexual appetites of the strip club’s patrons. Bodies moved against each other, feeding, fucking, watching. The air hung heavy with the wet products of their pleasure. Sweat, musk and blood.

  Ezryn ignored all of it.

  He stormed through the club, searching the crowd for a hint, a hint, curse it, of his general.

  Nothing. He couldn’t see him, couldn’t smell him, couldn’t sense him.

  He raked his hands through his hair, guilt and apprehension gnawing at his fraying calm. A feral growl rumbled in his chest. “Where the fuck are you, Jake?”