Dark Liaison (An Ema Marx Novel Book 2)

by J. D. Brown

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  Turn the page for an exclusive bonus chapter, Jesu’s Peril - and a sneak peek of Dark Becoming, Book Three in the Ema Marx Series!

  Exclusive Bonus Scene:

  Jesu’s Peril

  We entered the swimming pool room together, my hand at Ema’s back. I watched her as she scanned the area and scrunched her nose. The chlorine scent was a bit much, but she’d get used to it before long. I stepped away to lay my towel on a lounge chair and then removed my T-shirt. The collar pulled my hair over my face and I swept it back, catching a glimpse of Ema from the corner of my vision. She stared. Ogled, even. My lips curved and I glanced away so she wouldn’t know she’d been caught.

  My attention went to the water. Natural lakes and rivers possessed a magnetism that constantly called to me, like a stickiness that pulled at my skin. It made living on an island annoying. Since coming to Berlin, the feeling was much more muted. Yet, even a man-made tank of tap water had some calling, and my senses tingled.

  I removed my shoes, went to the pool, and stepped on the water. Using my powers required very little thought. It came naturally, like breathing. The water below the pads of my feet froze solid. The ice nipped at my soles, making my ankles stiffen and my calves shiver. I was used to the feeling, though, and the cold ebbed before it could reach any higher. Pleased with myself, I walked to the center of the pool before turning around to gauge Ema’s reaction. My smiled grew at the slight furrow of her brow. She scoffed and lifted her hands to her waist.

  “Don’t tell me you’re not going to get in the water.”

  “I will eventually,” I said, lifting a hand towards her. “Join me.”

  She blushed and dropped her gaze. After a moment’s hesitation, she slowly peeled off her top and then lowered her skirt. My throat dried and I struggled to swallow. The skirt alone had made my pulse jump earlier. Now, watching it slide down her lean, snow-white legs… Watching her straighten and step out of her clothes, her slender stomach exposed, the thin film of pink fabric failing to hide the curve of her small breasts… I clenched my fists and lowered my gaze for a moment to keep from tearing across the water and ravaging her. She’d been naked in front of me before, but I had kept my word and averted my gaze, being the gentleman. What I wouldn’t tell her was that my aversion was as much for my sanity as it was for her modesty.

  My gaze lifted as she came to the edge of the pool and paused. An impish grin curved her lips and she floated gracefully over the water, coming towards me. Pride swelled my chest at her powers. I fully expected her to not think of them and swim.

  “I did not think you would do it.”

  She lifted her chin to look me in the eyes and smirked. “You’re not the only one with tricks.”

  No, I’m not. Not at all. My gaze lowered to her hands and, as the pull of the water gnawed at me, an idea formed. I laced my fingers with hers and pulled her hands to my shoulders, where I draped them nicely about my neck. She was so petite and delicate, her skin soft like flower petals—which was appropriate, given the scent of her essence—it was difficult to resist moving faster. In another time, with another woman, I might have just pushed her against a wall and taken her. But this was Ema, our savior, and my life’s only purpose. I watched her expression carefully as I placed my hands at her midriff. She looked perhaps surprised, perhaps shocked that would touch her, but she didn’t protest, so I continued by leading her gently into a slow, easy waltz.

  After a few steps and a turn, her gaze rose to mine and she laughed. “We’re dancing?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s no music,” she said, but her voice was cheery.

  My breath caught at my accomplishment and I grinned. “So?”

  She studied me as though she wasn’t sure I was real, but then her expression relaxed and she followed my lead in the dance. I wasn’t very good at the waltz and kept my movements much slower and less complicated than the usual flair, but I didn’t think she noticed. Fort Ema, the style was far outdated. With each light step and small circle, her body relaxed beneath my touch. Her gaze soon went to the water, her dark hooded eyes dream-like. I wondered as to her thoughts, when the most amazing thing happened. She closed the small modest gap I’d placed between us and laid her head against my shoulder.

  I tried not to celebrate overly, for fear of accidently warding her off, yet the closeness required me to tighten my arms about her back in order to keep to the dance. I did so slowly, gauging her reaction, and high-fived myself in my mind when her grip tightened against my shoulders.

  Her warm breath pooled against my neck and my pulse did jumping jacks. I’d longed to hold her like this, chastening myself for all the times I’d turned her away when she attempted advances toward passion. I wanted to be so much more than her protector. I wanted to make my feelings known, to explore them and the possibilities. Yet, more than anything, I wanted her reciprocation to be real—not a symptom of her bloodlust.

  I mentally scolded myself in remembrance. She had just drunk a glass of blood before we came here. The whole reason I had suggested swimming was so that she could work out the lust through exercise. Instead, I had stupidly forgotten myself and gave in to weakness, misreading her reactions as tender permission instead of seeing it for what it really was—impaired judgement.

  And yet, how long did the bloodlust last? Dancing was a form of exercise. Who was to say the effects weren’t already out of her system? But no, I wasn’t so dumb as to listen to my own selfish desires and risk the chance. The only way to know for certain was to ask.

  “Ema… are you still under the effects of the blood?”

  She tensed, staying silent for several moments, and I feared her answer. But then her hold relaxed and her tone was strong with certainty. “No. Why?”

  “No reason.” I was glad for her answer, happy and excited that her actions were indeed her own, and yet… extremely nervous at the implications. Was this just a fun dance between friends or… could she want more? Women were so much simpler when I didn’t care as to the direction of their affections. It was silly, really. I’d never been denied before. I had no reason to think I would be denied now. Why not chance it?

  I ended the dance, stopping in the exact same location where we began, making the quick decision to do this, to inquire to Ema’s true feelings once and for all. My arms were still around her when she noticed we’d stopped. She looked up at me, a question in the single crease of her brow. I did all the right things. I was sure of it. I gazed into her eyes, lifted a hand to cup her cheek, and lowered until my mouth was just above hers. Her breath hitched in realization and, suddenly, Ema slipped from my hands and a splash of pool water sprayed my face.

  My eyes popped open in stunned surprise at the vacant air I was hugging. Instinct flipped like a switch and I glanced down at the water below my feet. Ema had sunk below the surface. I hadn’t thought to expand the ice I stood on to accompany her since she had been levitating, and I cursed myself for being so inconsiderate. Her powers were very new to her. She was still discovering how to control them. When Ema didn’t surface immediately, another inconsideration seized my chest.

  Can Ema swim?

  Panicked, I reigned in the ice and dropped into the water. My arm went around her and I pulled us both quickly to the edge of the pool where I threw her over the tile and then hoisted myself out of the water. She rolled away and coughed, spitting up water while pushing onto her elbows. I sighed in relief.

  “Are you alright?”

  She nodded, her lungs still fighting.

  I helped her sit upright and then peeled her drenched hair from her face. “Sorry I did not catch you. You seemed to be doing fine on your own.”

  Her lungs calmed enough to speak and she glared at me. “Jesu did
you… Where you about to kiss me?”

  Heat rose my face as I pushed my hair back. “Ah… yes.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Because I wanted to.”

  “But… Why?”

  My mouth curved in a bashful grin. Was she really going to make me say it? “I think it is obvious.”

  She glanced around the room and lowered her voice. “We can’t be together like that, Jesu.”

  My smile fell. “Why not?”

  Her gaze narrowed as though she was angry with me, and she whispered. “We’re related.”

  “Not really,” I chuckled.

  Her brow arched. “Oh?”

  I shrugged. “We share one ancestor. No big deal.”

  “He’s your father!” she shrieked. “I’m practically your niece.”

  My… niece? Ugh, I could have smacked myself. Why did I tell her about my father? I mean, obviously I had to, but I hadn’t meant it like that.

  “Ema, you are hardly my niece. There are at least twenty generations between us.”

  “Yet I still turned into a vampyre, didn’t I?”

  I shook my head, trying to find the words to explain why this wasn’t the taboo she imagined. “That gene came from your father, who is not related to my father.”

  “My mother’s genes sure helped,” she shouted. “All my powers come from European clans!”

  I stared like an idiot, not knowing what to say. I loved Ema with everything I had, and here she was, rejecting me because of a misunderstanding. I really should have been more careful in how I worded things. She was of a different time, a different world. Yet, what if it wasn’t that difference? What if it was all an excuse to spare my feelings? What if she just… didn’t want me? After all, every advance she had made in the past had been done out of bloodlust. When sober, she avoided me and my affections. What reason did I have to ever hope otherwise?

  Ema bit her lip and hugged her knees to her chest. “I’m sorry, Jesu, but we just… can’t.”

  The words hurt. Like a dagger to the chest, it fuckin’ hurt.

  I didn’t want to react. I was afraid I’d do something I would regret. So I withdrew into myself, silent. Ridged. Angry. If she had been anyone else… but she wasn’t. I was bound to Ema as her protector. I couldn’t just shrug it off and forget about it.

  Yet I needed to move.

  I went to the nearest escape—the one that whispered my name and pulled at my essence with promises of comfort—and lowered into the swimming pool water. Swimming always helped me calm down, so I took to the deep end and began doing laps, beating my frustrations into the yielding water with every stroke of my arms and legs. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard Ema leave the room.

  DarK BecominG

  An Ema Marx Novel 3

  Chapter 1

  The bullet missed my eye by two inches. It flew past my temple, grazed a few strands of hair, and struck Jesu’s Adam’s apple.

  Time slowed. I turned to face him and my heart stopped at the sight of blood trickling down his neck. His arms fell away from my waist and he staggered back one, two steps. He lifted a hand to the wound, his emerald gaze widened in shock. He took a third step back—and toppled over the edge of the loft. My breath hitched as I flung my hands into the air to grab him, but I was too late.

  Jesu hit the dirt floor of the barn with a heavy thump and I screamed. I dove onto my stomach and scrambled to the ledge. Digging my fingernails into the wooden floorboards, I glanced at the scene below, heart pounding.

  Jesu landed on his back, his arms and legs splayed, his long hair tossed across his face. His eyes were open underneath, but they didn’t move—didn’t blink. He lay so still—too still. My blood ran cold. Terror erupted from my lungs.

  “Jesu!”

  My cry drew a chorus of pops and snaps. Frantic, I glanced around the empty space, not understanding the strange sounds until, from the shadowy corners of the moldy barn, emerged a group of nude Alpan vampires. Several more dropped from the ceiling, shifting from arachnid to humanoid form in mid-air. King Nikolas’ soldiers. They responded to my shouts of distress, inching closer to Jesu with looks of concern.

  I need to get to Jesu. My hands trembled as I pushed to my knees and crawled toward the ladder. My nerves shook too much to phase or fly. Where did that shot come from?

  My fingers almost reached the first rung when a hand gripped my shoulder and yanked me through the air. I landed on my spine, hitting the rickety loft floor. A cloud of dust rose from the impact, blurring my vision. The silhouette of a man appeared through the haze. He straddled my stomach and used his weight to pin me in place. Pale ring-clad fingers gripped my neck and squeezed. Two blades sliced the skin under his choking grip and a searing pain cut through my flesh. A wet stickiness oozed over my neck and soaked the collar of my shirt. Gasping under the pain, I jabbed my fingers between his and tried with all my might to pry off his hands. Feeling the odd shape of his rings, each one fused to the next, I realized he wore some sort of brass knuckles weapon with a knife fixed to the underside. The man wasn’t just trying to choke me to death…he meant to sever my head. The dust settled and my gaze flew over his black leather attire. His chin-length mass of thick black hair fell over his face, obscuring his identity, but that didn’t matter. I’d recognize him anywhere. His methods were entirely too familiar.

  “Jalmari,” I grunted. “You bastard.”

  A breeze blew in from the missing portion of the upper barn wall and lifted his hair, confirming what I already knew. His dark green irises shone in the moonlight and he grinned, flashing each one of his razor sharp fangs.

  Every ounce of fear from a moment ago transformed into red-hot fury. I lifted my knees and pushed my feet against the floor, rolling us both onto our sides. I willed myself to de-solidify, but his grip kept me firmly in the third dimension. He levitated, still holding me by the neck. The blades cut deep, lodging under my flesh as my toes left the floor and my weight became a disadvantage. Not having any other choice, I used my ability to levitate with him, countering gravity to lessen the death grip around my windpipe. Together, we rose through the collapsed side of the roof, out into the night. I glanced down just in time to see the Alpan soldiers clambering up the ladder. They were very small and blurry in the periphery of my vision.

  Jalmari snickered. “They cannot help you, rat.”

  I rolled my eyes at the derogatory taunt, but didn’t respond. For one thing, his weapon still carved into my throat and I worried speech would accelerate further damage. Secondly, he was wrong. The Alpans could shape-shift, which meant they could turn into birds and peck Jalmari’s stupid eyes out. I wasn’t going to wait for their help, though. I could be headless by then. My throat swelled as the blades neared my trachea. The edges of my vision darkened to a hazy gray and my lungs burned in protest. I was going to pass out from lack of oxygen before he killed me.

  No, this isn’t how it ends. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and the monster that lived in my gut stretched an angry clawed hand against my insides, begging for release. I swung my right leg up hard and fast as possible. My knee connected with the crotch of Jalmari’s pants, taking both of us by surprise.

  His grip lessened, but Jalmari was a real champ. He grimaced, cussed, and curled forward, but he did not let go.

  One more push while he’s off his game. I released his wrists, relying on my ability to fly, and shifted my arms into bat wings. I knew from past experimentation that a partial shift would produce wings proportionate to a human body instead of to a tiny bat. That meant giant wings with incredible strength.

  Astonishment flickered across Jalmari’s features as my finger bones elongated and my skin stretched into large webbed membranes. My muscles tore apart and then reformed. Leaner. Stronger. I reveled in their power. In one swift move, I brought my wings together in the center and then punched Jalmari square in the stomach. Before he could react, I opened my wings wide, forcing his arms apart.

 
; The blades in his hands tore away from my neck and I gasped in air. My breath caught and I coughed horribly before regaining the ability inhale. Instead of flapping my giant bat wings, I continued to levitate to reduce fatigue. The threat of fainting slowly subsided with each calming breath. Once I regained my bearings, I glanced about in search of that jerk, but Jalmari had disappeared. He must have phased after I punched him. I furrowed my brow and growled.

  “Show yourself, coward!”

  He might have been invisible, but nothing could mask his scent. Traces of nitrogen sweetened the air and I rose higher to scan the castle grounds. Yet, the commotion inside the barn tugged at my heartstrings. A group gathered around Jesu and fussed over him. I wanted to be there, by his side. A few large crows sat atop the more solid parts of the barn roof, watching me. Were they Aplan vampires in disguise? If so, what the heck where they waiting for? Several more soldiers could be seen in the distance, coming from the castle, carrying what I hoped was medical equipment for Jesu.

  A slight glimmer rippled in the periphery of my vision, about ten feet away. It was such a small, quick movement, I wasn’t certain I saw it. I narrowed my gaze, hoping to catch sight of it again. Jalmari suddenly appeared where the ripple had been, fangs bared, fists held out in front of him. The brass knuckles were flipped around so the razor-sharp blades lined the outside of his knuckles. He charged, shooting through the air like a bullet.

  I flung myself to the side just in time, and hit his back with my wings, shoving him a good distance away. I hoped he would hit a tree or something, but Jalmari had thousands of years of training under his belt. He stopped his trajectory, faced me, and then charged again, swinging his bladed hand in a lethal punch aimed at my face. I ducked out of the way, but not before the knife nicked my cheek. Jalmari doubled back, swinging his left fist. I phased and scattered my essence to fly around either side. Behind him, I drew myself together and solidified. He turned, his brow furrowed tight, his lip curled in a fierce growl, and I decided to use the last trick I had left. I shifted my head into a wolf’s.