Dark Possession Page 9

  The Hunter chuckled softly and planted a mollifying kiss on Grace’s perpetually pouty lips.

  “May I ask, where’s Ava? Doesn’t she also reside in the Cove with Ryu and Kane?” Eveline posed the question at large.

  “Ava and Kane are staying these few days with her parents,” Clara answered. “Though we’re all friends here…and we’d certainly like to be even more…friendly, she gets particularly homesick when Ryu is away. Besides, Kane’s grandparents can’t get enough time with their pride and joy.”

  Eveline noticed that Clara looked wistful at the last comment. Subtly, her husband Eli took her hand in his and linked their fingers.

  Clara’s wistful sadness turned into wistful joy as she smiled at her male, then smiled down at their daughter, Annie.

  That was when Eveline remembered: Eli was Ryu’s father. But they had an awkward, complex relationship, Ava had mentioned before.

  Now, Clara’s hesitation a moment ago made more sense. Instead of simply wanting to be more “friendly,” she meant that she wanted them to be more of a family.

  “What brings you here, Eveline Marceau?” Grace abruptly asked Eveline with unsettling directness, her dark eyes unblinkingly spearing.

  “I am the Cove’s temporary librarian,” Eveline responded lightly.

  “And?” Grace persisted, her sharp gaze penetrating.

  Eveline blinked, playing possum.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “You must be here for a particular reason beyond simply being our temporary Keeper,” Grace elaborated. “Ramses made no secret of his dislike for Pure Ones. He wouldn’t voluntarily bring someone like you into the Cove. It would be a subtle declaration of where his allegiance lies, and he has been very careful thus far to avoid any such demonstration.”

  “Well…” Eveline stalled, cutting her slice of tart to bits and pieces with her fork.

  “She has his scent all over her,” Eli said quietly, though his words were no less startling.

  His nostrils flared slightly.

  “I can smell both their se—”

  “Tender ears at the table, dear!” Clara squeaked, closing her hands around Annie’s ears.

  The girl rolled her eyes, but allowed her mother to keep said tender ears covered.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” Eveline hastened to explain. “Smells like. You know what I mean.”

  “What do you mean, Seer?” Devlin prompted with a slight grin, his gaze shrewd and knowing.

  Eveline sighed.

  Perhaps the Chosen should know about Ramses’ and her agreement. They had a role to play too if her relationship with the Dark King were to be publicized.

  “We are engaged in a Blood Contract for the next three months,” she informed her rapt audience with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “Totally harmless. Nothing remarkable.”

  Utter silence greeted her words.

  Several pairs of unblinking eyes stared at her.

  Finally, Devlin murmured, “I beg to differ, Pure One.”

  “Your presence and reason for being here are quite remarkable indeed.”

  “Pure Ones are looked upon by other Kinds as the weakest, most subservient of races, despite our Immortality and Gifts. Because we prefer peace over bloodshed, they think us cowardly. Because of our Cardinal Rule, they think us sexless. Because our nature is to see the best in others, they think us naïve. They do not understand. Our strength comes from our Pure souls and the depth of our convictions. It takes strength to stand firm in the face of aggression and not hit back. It takes strength to love truly, fiercely and enduringly. And only the strongest amongst us can find the light within when the world shows us only darkness… ”

  —From the Zodiac Scrolls

  Chapter Six

  “It’s time to go, Keeper.”

  Eveline came awake with a start and a soft snort, cut short in the middle of a snore.

  “Wh-what?”

  Devlin stood beside her looking down. A corner of his sensuous lips twitched as if he was fighting a smile.

  Oh. She’d fallen asleep over a pile of scrolls and books again. She’d completely lost track of time.

  Eveline pulled her creaky body into a sitting position, working the kinks out of her neck, shoulders and arms as she slowly straightened.

  “Where are we going?” she asked sleepily, stifling a yawn behind her hand.

  “To the throne room,” Devlin answered, all traces of the smile removed from his expression.

  “The Dark King is holding court.”

  Eveline frowned a little.

  “Then why…”

  “And you are the guest of honor.”

  Oh.

  Guess it was time to showcase their “relationship” to the masses, Eveline deduced.

  She cleared her throat and steeled her spine, getting to her feet.

  “Lead the way, Hunter,” she said, using Devlin’s formal title among the Chosen.

  As she followed him out of the library, she noticed that he was wearing a more formal attire, a tailored, sleek, head-to-toe black ensemble that included a torso-hugging shirt and leather pants.

  Damn, but vampires had style, Eveline appreciated rather objectively. The way one would appreciate inanimate art.

  Well, the art of Devlin was currently moving in long, smooth strides down the winding corridor that led to the throne room, but you know what she meant.

  Surreptitiously, she turned her head to sniff her left armpit. No pungent odors wafted back at her. She didn’t know how long she’d been passed out in the library or how long she’d spent there in total, but it had likely been a long time. Her clothes were wrinkled and sticking to her body in places. (At that thought, she adjusted her skirt and smoothed her hands down her blouse.) She was afraid to check her hair, no doubt a tangle of knots around her head.

  In other words, stylish and sleek, Eveline was definitely not.

  But oh well. She was merely a Blood Contract.

  She pulled back her shoulders and raised her chin.

  Her appearance shouldn’t matter. She shouldn’t care. Caring meant that she felt pride, and wanted to show pride, in being someone else’s possession, even if it was temporary.

  And she definitely didn’t feel that way.

  As they drew closer to the throne room, which Eveline had never entered before, though she knew its location, and that Ramses’ private chambers were behind it, having dashed out of said chamber late last night, she realized that they were approaching from the formal entrance.

  When they were in front of the tall, double doors, two Sentries pulled the heavy oak apart to admit them.

  “After you, Pure One,” the Hunter murmured.

  Head held high, Eveline walked sedately into the throne room. In her peripheral vision, she took in the breathtaking view.

  The Cove was based in the no-public-access Chrysler Crown in the heart of New York City. Jade Cicada had combined three floors into one so that a magnificently opulent, gigantic Great Hall rose thirty feet from the floor to meet at the intricately decorated point of a vaulted dome, surrounded on all sides by floor to ceiling triangular windows, alternating with ribbed and riveted stainless-steel cladding, radiating outwards in the world-famous sunburst pattern.

  Within this unique architectural space, every piece of décor was meticulously selected to emphasize the gorgeous bones of the building itself. It was brightly lit with chandeliers and sconces, though the black-out windows prevented others from looking in, while those inside had a clear, unobstructed view of the dazzling cityscape.

  There was no clutter of ostentatious statues, fountains or paintings to distract from the elegant beauty of the architecture itself, but what embellishments were there were of the highest quality and taste.

  As Eveline slowly made her way down the center aisle toward a massive, yet simple throne, that looked to be carved from a single solid block of obsidian, she tried not to let the multitude of eyes on either side of her make her
feel uneasy, on display.

  Though, of course, she was.

  Instead, she focused on the breathtakingly magnificent warrior king who sat upon his throne.

  And the moment their eyes met, she forgot about everything else.

  Ramses was dressed all in black as well, similarly attired as his Chosen. In fact, there was little about his wardrobe that distinguished him from his guards. He wore no crown, no adornments, his raven curls lose and disheveled about his face, as if he just rolled out of bed.

  After a day of tireless fucking.

  Just like his guards, Eveline reminded herself firmly. Inanimate art was all he was. But try as she might, she would never mistake him for anyone else but the most powerful ruler of the vampire race. The first-ever Dark King.

  His presence permeated every particle of the throne room. It was his space. And everything within it was his to command.

  And when he held her gaze like he was doing now, connecting them intimately even though they were surrounded by dozens of his noble court, Eveline felt his possession of her too, from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. His unwavering gaze reminded her, as she walked toward him, that he’d penetrated her vein, taken her blood. He’d surrounded her with his essence, his naked heat, that glorious, massive, muscular male body.

  They had a Contract. She was his.

  When Eveline finally stood before him, he didn’t greet her, didn’t say a word. He simply looked down at his feet and looked back at her.

  Eveline frowned.

  He wanted her to sit at his feet while he sat on his gigantic throne.

  Like a dog.

  Well, at least there was a thick floor pillow to cushion her ass.

  A pampered dog, then.

  She glared at him to indicate what she thought of that idea.

  He arched a black brow ever so slightly back at her.

  He was reminding her of their Contract. In public and in private, she was his for the duration of three months. And she was required to behave accordingly.

  She arched a brow right back at him. Because the Contract went both ways.

  He was hers too.

  So, Eveline regally took her seat (which was to say, her butt found the floor pillow without much of her usual clumsiness) between his spread legs, but draped a possessive hand on his knee, and leaned her head against his thigh.

  Staring out at the sea of Dark nobles who gathered a couple of steps beneath the dais of the throne, she daringly ran her other hand up his inner thigh and skimmed the back of her knuckles along the length of his manhood, blatantly outlining the shape of his cock and balls with her barely-there caress, as if to declare to all observers:

  This is mine.

  Eveline was the only one who heard Ramses’ soft exhale, a release of breath that expressed disbelief, frustration and arousal all at once.

  She’d surprised him.

  Good.

  She leaned her head back against his now stone-hard groin and settled in the V of his thighs, keeping her hand on his knee. Though she sat at his feet, it almost looked as if the Dark King’s body was her throne.

  Eveline caught Devlin’s eyes in the back of the room. The Hunter’s sapphire orbs were sparkling with barely-suppressed humor. He was obviously enjoying the show.

  “You asked for an audience, Anya,” Ramses’ low, husky voice commanded everyone’s attention at once.

  “Do not keep me in suspense.”

  A tall, voluptuous, regal-looking vampire with long, tawny tresses stepped forth from the gathering of nobles.

  Why were Dark females always so sexy and gorgeous, Eveline wondered, her fingers involuntarily tightening on Ramses’ knee.

  “Allow me to congratulate you on your…new acquisition, Dark King,” the queen of the Great Plains hive said in a sultry voice.

  Sexy, gorgeous, and sultry.

  Eveline disliked her on sight.

  Given that she was practically gouging the back of her head into his crotch, she felt the subtle shrug of Ramses’ body.

  “My little sprite begged to be acquired. She is quite ecstatic to be here, as you see. Who am I to refuse?”

  Eveline fought to keep her expression placid, while she gnashed her teeth behind faintly smiling lips.

  Little sprite?

  My?

  Begged?

  Ramses was begging for trouble, as far as Eveline was concerned.

  Anya’s mouth turned slightly down at the corners, as if she couldn’t hide the displeasure of learning this. Was the Great Plains hive behind the abduction then?

  “How does the Dozen take her departure from their fold?” she inquired after a lengthy pause, as if she had to take time to gather her thoughts.

  “They wish me quite well,” Eveline answered directly, tired of being spoken about but not spoken to.

  As if she wasn’t even there.

  There were some grumbles and ferocious frowns from the audience at her breach of protocol. She knew she shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but Eveline just didn’t give a shit at the moment.

  And the next words came out of her mouth as if another female was speaking them. They were so bold and uncharacteristic, Eveline felt like she was watching someone else in a daytime soap opera. (Or so she understood from Aella, as she never had time to watch any herself).

  “I am a woman of…particular needs. The Dark King is generous enough to service them.”

  She looked up at him with what she hoped was a seductive gaze.

  “Aren’t you, sausage muffin?”

  Eveline didn’t know what to make of the tremble that coursed through Ramses’ big body, but as he looked down at her, a strange, slightly frightening gleam had entered his obsidian eyes.

  Queen Anya’s eyes all but bugged out of her head when Eveline looked back at her. They bounced like ping-pong balls from Eveline, to Ramses, and back to Eveline.

  “Indeed,” was all she managed to utter.

  “Surely you have more pressing matters you wanted to discuss by amassing such an audience,” Ramses said, taking control of the situation once more, his tone both bored and edged with impatience.

  “Get to it, Anya.”

  “We grow tired of your indecision, Dark King,” the vampire queen began. “You must ma—”

  “Who is ‘we’?” Ramses interrupted.

  Anya gestured to the gathered nobles.

  “My hive, the Great Plains. Queen Minerva of the Great Lakes.”

  Said queen stepped forth.

  “Queen Constantina.”

  The Mid-Atlantic queen stepped forth.

  “And queen Tatania.”

  The Appalachia queen joined them.

  “As well as more than half of your own Noble houses.”

  At this, Andor Varna stepped forth with a haughty sniff.

  Ramses curled his upper lip at one corner to reveal a gleamingly sharp fang.

  “The cowardly, sniveling half, you mean?”

  Varna tried to maintain the staring match Ramses had locked him in, but after only a few beats, he slid his eyes away.

  Ramses flicked his gaze away and refocused on the ring leader.

  “What decision would you like me to make, Anya? The night grows long.”

  The vampire queen bristled at his dismissiveness.

  “You know full well, Dark King. Those of us gathered here today are ready to reclaim the Dark Ones’ glory of old. All other Kinds are beneath us, and I, for one, am tired of holding back our natural dominance and power. The humans and Pure Ones must be taught their place. Rule belongs to the strongest.”

  “You are not the strongest,” Ramses said softly, his words somehow more menacing in their quietness.

  Eveline wondered whether he meant “you” as in Anya or “you” as in Dark Ones. But if he meant the latter, shouldn’t he have said “we”?

  Queen Anya narrowed her eyes before they suddenly turned smoldering.

  Eveline instinctively bristled at the sight like a hedgehog
.

  “We could be stronger together, Ramses. Join us.”

  And now Eveline’s metaphorical quills were standing up like a porcupine’s.

  “Join me,” the Great Plains queen invited.

  It was crystal clear to all those present just what her invitation entailed.

  Eveline narrowed her eyes. Now would be a good time to put a spell on the seductively beautiful bitch. If she just concentrated hard enough…

  “I rule alone,” Ramses said before Eveline could give the vampire queen a hideous, painful skin rash all over her perfect body.

  Anya’s head jerked slightly back at his public rejection. He didn’t even try to ease the sting of it with indirectness.

  “You will die alone,” she hissed.

  Eveline was still watching the vampire queen with unblinking eyes, but she could sense Ramses’ humorless smile.

  “Alone or not, it is still death. But it will not be mine.”

  Eveline didn’t like that he added so quietly only she could hear, “Not yet.”

  At that, Anya tossed something toward the throne with a flick of her wrist.

  The Sentries all around the perimeter of the chamber stepped forth en masse at the aggressive action. Devlin unsheathed his sabre in the back. And from out of nowhere, Eli poofed into physical being in a swirl of smoke right beside Ramses and Eveline.

  Ramses raised a hand to still his guards.

  They all looked at the object on the marble floor a few feet away from Eveline at the bottom of the dais.

  It was a scroll.

  Eli retrieved it from the ground and unrolled it carefully.

  When he looked back at Ramses after skimming the contents of the scroll, a foreboding shudder shook Eveline’s entire body.

  “It is a Challenge for your rule of the New England hive,” the shadow warrior said in a low voice that everyone nevertheless heard clearly, perhaps because everyone was eerily silent in the throne room, as if holding their collective breath.

  “A Challenge to the death.”

  *** *** *** ***

  Click, click, click, click.

  That was the sound of Eveline’s slippers as she hastened to keep up with Ramses’ lengthy strides while he dragged her by the arm down the short corridor behind the throne room to his chambers.