Dark Liaison (An Ema Marx Novel Book 2)

by J. D. Brown

  “Surprise attack,” he said by way of explanation.

  “We’re getting way too comfortable being naked in front of each other.”

  He laughed.

  Did I say that out loud? Oops. My hands clenched into fists of determination and I marched into his bedroom. I opened his wardrobe and pulled out the first shirt and pair of pants within reach.

  “I thought I could stay as a cat for a little while longer,” Jesu called from the kitchen. “For training.”

  “Not today,” I said, thinking about the possible broken bone in the center of my chest. “Bridget assigned a lot of homework.”

  Jesu leaned his elbow against the breakfast bar, supporting his chin in his hands as I came around to the kitchen. His brow quirked. “Homework?”

  “Of the reading variety.” I nodded in the direction of the duffle bag sitting just inside the doorway of my room. “I guess she wants me to know the rules of your world.”

  Jesu’s gaze darkened, but the look only lasted a brief moment before he shook himself and smiled. “Anything I can help you with?”

  “Sure, you can start by putting some clothes on.” I tossed the threads at him. He separated the tangled bundle and then balanced on one foot to pull on a pair of flannel pajama pants. His arms went over his head, pulling on a gray T-shirt. His abs stretched with the motion, every line of muscle sharply defined before my very eyes. I tore my gaze away and shook my head. “I’m going to um… homework.”

  “Let me know if you have questions,” he called out as I hauled ass to my room. I grabbed the duffle bag and flung it onto the bed before sliding the door shut with the heel of my boot. A stream of air rushed past my pursed lips in a deep sigh.

  This is ridiculous. I couldn’t be attracted to an ancestor, no matter how alive or young or incredibly toned his body was…

  Books! Books, books, books!

  I unzipped the duffle bag and turned it upside-down, dumping the large texts onto the mattress. The bag fell to the floor as I wiped my palms on my thighs. I sat near the head of the bed, crossed my legs, and pulled the first volume of the history books into my lap.

  Reading was one of very few elements from my human life that followed me into vampyre life. Four years of collage taught me that text books weren’t meant to be read front to back. One studied what one needed to know to pass the test. In my case, the test meant killing Apollyon. I flipped the book over and opened the back cover to the index.

  Was I morbid for wishing death upon someone? Could I go through with it in the heat of the moment? I had the chance before and froze. Now Leena was dead and Apollyon was waltzing around Finland.

  The index listed his name in a few sections. Within an hour of reading, Apollyon was no longer just Jesu’s evil father. He was an accomplished warlord.

  Because of his age, not much information existed for his early years. Spectators placed him at over six thousand years old at the time of his death in 383 B.C. I quickly did the math. He would be over eight-thousand years old now. How anyone that ancient could single-handedly lift a grown woman by her neck was a terrifying mystery.

  Apollyon was a first-generation vampyre born in northern Mesopotamia. I knew from prior reading in Jalmari’s library that first-generation vampyres were the result of a Nephilim to human breeding, and were stronger than second or third generations.

  And I’m what… twentieth generation? My Nephilim DNA was so diluted that I stayed human for the first twenty-three years of my life.

  He ascended to leadership within a small nomadic clan called the Ekimmuen. The clan traveled south, following their food source. They dominated Sumeria and then Babylon. Apollyon abandoned his clan soon after. Some speculation was given to his reasons for leaving, but the information was sketchy. Sightings were recorded in Egypt and then again in Greece in 1100 B.C.

  Just before the fall of the Mycenaean.

  He finally appeared again in 600 B.C. with an army and declared war on what was now Eastern Europe. Dates, names, and battles flew off the charts after that. Apollyon held a war record that would make Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, and Napoleon Bonaparte blush red with shame. Near the end of his lifetime, his empire stretched as far south as Greece and as far north as Estonia, from the eastern-most point of Ukraine to the western-most part of the Czech Republic.

  He led his warriors farther north to Germany, Denmark, and into Sweden. They pushed the Draugrians into Finland until they were trapped between Apollyon’s war and the heavily guarded territories of the Russian clans. The Draugrian king negotiated the hand of his niece and the crown in return for peace and protection.

  My heart ached for Jesu’s mother. Apollyon accepted, but the fighting didn’t end. I remembered Jesu saying Apollyon wanted his mother for her psychic abilities, how he would force her to predict the outcome of every battle so he could weigh his choices correctly.

  Cheating bastard.

  She aided in his murder, though. After dominating Scandinavia, Apollyon set his target on the Russian vampyres’ territories. His wife sent a warning to their leaders and, when Apollyon and his warriors reached the border, they were ambushed and Apollyon was killed in battle.

  Way to go, Mrs. Korento.

  The trained historian in me wondered how in the word the vampyres managed to keep a war that large under wraps and out of public history books. People did know about vampyres back then. The word vampyre appears in cuneiform tablets and epic sonnets from all over the world. They were mistaken for dark gods and demons and eventually coined as mythology.

  Like Anubis and the Beast of Gévaudan.

  That got me thinking about my own shapeshifting abilities. I folded the top corner of the page to mark my place in the text book and then set it on the nightstand on my way to the bathroom. My palms flattened against the edge of the sink as I leaned into them and studied my reflection in the mirror. A pale-skinned girl with black and red eyes stared back. I sucked in a deep breath and focused on shifting only my head. Cartilage and bone crackled like bubble wrap as my skull changed shape. My jaw grew into a long snout and my ears moved to the top of my head. Fur sprouted over my face and my eyes turned an iridescent yellow.

  Nausea twisted my stomach. I’d shifted plenty of times before, but never while watching myself in the mirror. The sight looked far more horrendous than it felt, and yet, there it was, in the mirror. The body of a woman with the head of a wolf stared back.

  Anubis.

  Except the famed god of the underworld had the body of a man and the head of jackal. So I didn’t look exactly like the hieroglyphic, but that was fine. This was plenty shocking enough. My heart raced as I released the breath I’d been holding. Slowly, I raised my arms to the sides. As I conjured the action in my mind, my limbs bent back and the joints snapped. Each finger elongated, the skin between them stretching into a wide thin membrane. I remembered to breathe as I took in my reflection. I still had my body, the body of a young woman, but with the head of a wolf, and the wings of giant bat.

  I was the stuff of nightmares.

  I flexed my arms, testing the odd sensation of having wings while still mostly humanoid. The length was bulky and the tips bumped onto the counter knocking over toiletries. Somehow, though, they felt light and strong and I wondered if I could fly in this form. My wolf head was also something else; smell and hearing heightened, sight dulled down, and yet it didn’t feel nearly as odd as it looked.

  One thing was for sure; whatever disbelief I had for mythology or folklore was officially cured. Now I was just piss-scared of the fact that it was all real.

  It wasn’t bad enough that Apollyon fought for centuries in brute hand-to-hand combat, leading death and destruction across an entire continent to build an empire. He’d also gone and done it against magical creatures that could shapeshift and fly and phase. I didn’t stand a chance in a showdown against him. I would freeze-up and cry. Leena’s death was proof. I never even won a game of poker, much less a fight.

  What am I g
oing to do?

  Suddenly I wanted to be with Jesu. To confide in him, to hear him tell me everything would work out somehow. At that moment, his cellphone beeped from across the suite. My ear twitched as the phone flipped open and Jesu mumbled a word in Finnish. I fumbled across the room, not paying attention to the things my wings bumped into along the way.

  The little claw on the tip of each wing wrenched the panel door open and I pushed into the suite at the same time that Jesu stepped out of his room. His gaze rose to meet mine. In slow motion, his eyes widened and he faltered. His feet moved him back several steps before his mind could catch up and the heel of his boot caught the door frame, sending him falling backward. His free hand caught the side of the frame just in time to halt his fall and he steadied himself in a crouch, lips raised to expose his fangs in a warning hiss as his eyes burned emerald green.

  I cussed inwardly. No doubt my current body image would be impossible to erase. I shifted my arms and head back to their rightful shape, but nothing could be done about the heat that colored my cheeks.

  “Sorry,” I murmured.

  Jesu sighed and then righted himself, brushing his hair back with his fingers. He looked me up and down as though waiting to see if I had any more surprises. My gaze fell to my feet and I cleared my throat.

  “So,” he started. “I see you learned something new.”

  I decided to change the subject. “Who called?”

  “No one,” he answered a little too quickly.

  My gaze narrowed. “I heard your phone beep.”

  He worked his jaw while glancing at the aforementioned object in his palm. “How are your studies going?”

  I sighed at our game of change-the-subject. But I had wanted to talk to him about what I’d read. “It’s a lot to take in, Apollyon and his empire.”

  He nodded. “We should keep practicing. You have not used your wall-climbing ability in quite a while.”

  I swallowed and then nodded. He was right, I had a lot to learn and I needed to hurry up and master the small things if I was going to have any chance at the bigger things. Plus my sternum felt fine now. “Where should we start?”

  Jesu glanced over his shoulder. “The middle living room wall should do.”

  I pulled off my shoes and socks and rolled up my pants. The first time I did this, the wall was made of stone and cement. Even though I didn’t need to grip anything with my fingers, it at least had some traction. The suite walls, however, were made of sleek marble. This would be a true test of the glue’s strength.

  Jesu followed me to the wall. Facing it, I held up both hands, palms forward, fingers flat, and then pressed them against the honey-colored surface. A thick sticky substance secreted from the pores of my palms and suctioned my skin firmly to the wall like superglue.

  So far, so good.

  I lifted my right leg and pressed the ball of my foot and toes against the marble. The goo seeped forth, anchoring my foot. Jesu placed his hands on my waist and I jerked in surprise, glancing over my shoulder at him.

  “I am spotting you… just in case.”

  I decided not to argue as I faced the wall. He lifted my weight as I placed my left foot against the marble.

  “Any slipping?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’m pretty stuck here.”

  “Keep going,” he coaxed.

  My elbows and knees ground against the surface as I pulled and pushed myself. My right palm slowly ripped away from the wall as though lined with Velcro. I reached up and slapped my hand down, creating a new layer of goo. Then I did the same with my left foot, then my left hand, and finally my right foot.

  Jesu’s hands slid over my thighs and down my legs until they eventually fell away. I touched the ceiling in no time. My heart raced as I hesitantly placed a hand on the marble ceiling.

  “Ema.” Jesu’s tone turned dark. “Think about what you are doing first. Your weight will work against you. If you do this, you must be prepared to move fast before the glue gives out.”

  “Did you just call me fat?” I teased.

  “I am being serious, Ema.”

  “So am I. In fact, I think I’m a little offended.”

  He scoffed.

  I gnawed on my lip and then decided I had to try the ceiling. I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes. Okay, Nephilim Ema, it’s time to have some fun. I can do this.

  I exhaled, opened my eyes, and scrambled quickly across the ceiling. Jesu was right, gravity pulled at me more than it did when I was vertical. Only the palms of my hands and feet touched the ceiling, the rest of me hung in the air. The glue locked on just as hard, but it stretched like melted mozzarella if I didn’t keep moving.

  I didn’t know which way to go. I couldn’t climb down the panels that enclosed our bedrooms; the thin paper material would rip. The kitchen looked like a hazard zone from this angle, the cabinets and appliances jutting out with sharp edges. My only option seemed to be the far end, where I could climb down the hall walls. Without much time to consider it further, I hustled across the ceiling.

  “Where are you going?”

  “The hall,” I grunted.

  I couldn’t see Jesu. I couldn’t see much of the floor at all. Blood rushed to my head and my stomach twisted in knots. I needed to get off the ceiling before I vomited.

  It wasn’t until I reached the edge of the wall in the hallway that I realized climbing down was going to be awkward. Should I crawl face-first, turn around and back up, or jump?

  Whimpering, I crawled around the ceiling in a tight circle until my feet faced the wall. I backed down as quickly and carefully as I could. Once I was flat against the wall again, my breathing relaxed and the dizziness passed.

  Jesu watched from a few feet away, his cute dimple deepening above his sideways smile. “That was amazing.”

  I grinned. “I don’t think I’ll ever do it again.”

  “Sure you will. In fact, I think you will do it again in about fifteen seconds.”

  “You mean you’re going to make me.”

  “You need to practice, Ema.”

  I rolled my eyes and jumped away from the wall without thinking. The glue didn’t release. It stretched a few inches and then snapped me back like a rubber band. My face hit solid marble. White stars danced in the periphery of my vision. Then, all at once, the glue gave out and I fell. Jesu’s arms were under me in a flash, braking what would have been another head-on collision.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Peachy.” I rubbed my throbbing nose and winced as pain surged through my face. Well that was a dumb idea.

  He helped me sit upright and pulled my hands away from my face. “Let me see.”

  I obliged and tried not to cringe too much as he gently felt around the bridge.

  “I do not think it’s broken.”

  “I need to lie down—”

  “No, you might be concussed.”

  He swung my arm over his shoulders, gripped my waist, and pulled me to my feet. We walked to the kitchen counter, where he helped me sit on a stool. Jesu placed my hands on the counter and then gently brushed his fingers through my hair, pushing the stray locks behind my ears.

  “You sit tight.” He walked briskly around the counter into the kitchen and fixed a glass of blood. “Drink this.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. I wrapped both hands around the glass and gratefully chugged it. I licked my lips and smacked them together before setting the glass down. “Ah!”

  His brow cocked. “Has any one ever told you that you drink like a sailor?”

  “Nope, you’re the first.”

  He nodded as though that made perfect sense.

  Euphoria buzzed through my veins and I sighed, awash in delightful energy. “Help me to my room?”

  Jesu’s gaze narrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. “No. If you go to your room, you will lie down and never wake up.”

  “That’s not true, I’m a vampyre. I can’t fall asleep.”

  He
came around the breakfast bar and stood next to me, twisting his torso so that he faced the direction of the hallway, and then pointed to the spot where I had tried to jump down. A concave dent the size of my face blemished the marble. “You see that?”

  I covered my face with my hands and groaned a muffled “yes” into them.

  “Give the blood time to heal that before you lie down.”

  I chewed my lip. I didn’t just want to lie down—I wanted to put some distance between us. I could already feel an overabundance of pheromones in my brain and in other more pheromone-associated parts of me. Jesu’s sweet scent called to my flesh and I didn’t think I could resist this time. Worse, I didn’t think he would resist me the same way he had in the past. I thought Jesu had pushed me away because we were related, but after that near-kiss in the pool room, I didn’t know what to think.

  His fingertips brushed against my hands and I jumped, jerking them away. He studied my expression, his own features tight in concern. That look—the single line of worry creasing his smooth forehead as his brow lightly furrowed over deep green eyes, the strong defined bridge of his nose leading down to the hard set lines of his thin lips—caused a breath to catch in my throat. My jaw parted in pure stupidity as I grasped for words, but only a portion of my brain worked. The rest of my mind soaked in the carnal urge to take this man standing next to me in every way possible.

  My skin lit on fire from the inside out, and his scent blew shards of ice, enveloping me in promises of release from the scorching flames. I wanted his flesh against me and his blood inside. My lips chapped and I slowly slid my tongue over them.

  A look of realization flashed in his gaze and his demeanor softened. His eyelids hooded his regard as it locked on my mouth. He wet his lips and then swallowed hard, his breath suddenly a little deeper than it was a moment ago. A surge of warmth gathered in my groin. My Nephilim side kicked into control mode. I grabbed his shirt in my fists and pulled. At the same time, I rose from the seat and pushed up on my toes, crushing our lips together.

  Jesu froze, his breath caught in his chest. I forced his lips open with my tongue and then lavishly dipped into his mouth. He sighed; a low, hungry growl carried in his breath, and ran his hands along my back, pressing me hard against him. My arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his long wisps of hair. Fire burned between my legs and in my breasts as our mouths tasted each other in a fury, each of us starved and craving the other. His palms slid over my butt and squeezed. As if by reflex, my left leg lifted and wrapped around his lap, locking our hips together. One hand gripped his left shoulder. The other bunched his tresses into a fist and pulled his head to the side. He hissed as though our lips parting was a painful thing. I snickered, pleased with his reaction, and then leaned into his neck, where the thick jugular vein pulsed. Each beat produced a wave of heat convulsing from his body, through our clothes, into my being. I swear my own heart changed to match the rhythm of his life force. My lips parted and my mouth opened wide. The tips of my fangs touched the surface of his delicate skin.