Page 45 of Incubus

After listening to the woeful growl, Anne began shooing me out the door. “What am I thinking? You must be starved after being so badly injured, and I’m here talking your ear off. Go ahead and eat. I’m sure Bart has something ready for you downstairs.”

“Um, thanks.” I took my chance to escape and continued my way down the stairs and into the dining room. Bart had outdone himself, because the second my foot hit the bottom stair, a delicious aroma wafted to my nose. I did my best to walk nonchalantly into the room but faltered at the sight of roasted lamb chops with rosemary potatoes.

“Do sit down, madam.” Bart arranged fresh rolls in an overflowing bread basket.

He didn’t have to ask twice. I took the closest chair and began filling my plate. Anne was right. I was more ravenous than I could remember being in my life. After demolishing what was on my plate and finishing a second helping, my appetite was finally sated. Bart was kind enough to pretend not to notice my horrible table manners as I downed the meal. It was only then I understood how much better I felt. The fury venom was a powerful toxin; I was lucky I hadn’t died. After daintily wiping the crumbs from my mouth in an effort to regain some of my ladylike-ness, I rose from the table and thanked Bart for the delicious meal.

He positively glowed with pride at my compliment. “But of course, madam.”

I needed to return upstairs and start work on the first chapter of the book. Roth had to believe I was serious about turning his life into a work of Underworld pop fiction. But, if I were being honest with myself, now that I was learning more about him, I truly wanted to record the story of his life and death that I found so remarkable. The ruse was working almost too well.

Instead of heading for the stairs, I decided to take a turn in the garden. I needed some fresh air to try and clear the cobwebs from my head and regain my focus. Once I was outside, the twilight had come and gone, and night covered the grounds. I crossed the open pathway and spied a padded bench beneath an arbor covered with roses. Reclining beneath the fragrant petals and looking up into the stars that twinkled through the open patches of sky, I tried to get my thoughts in order.

Instead of concentrating on crafting my opening chapter, my thoughts kept straying back to Roth the man, instead of Roth the immortal. The image of his sacrifice so many years ago on the ancient Parisian streets struck a chord deep within me. He wasn’t just a Casanova out to seduce women for sheer sport, but a man who’d been unwillingly transformed into the incubus. My new view of him didn’t figure into my initial plan of turning him over to Ares. And wasn’t that a kick in the lady bits.

I shifted on the bench, putting one hand behind my head as I continued perusing the stars and petals. I was on a path just like the stars, one that never changed. It didn’t matter how much I liked Roth, I couldn’t stop now. I hadn’t come this far to quit. And if I did, my life would be forfeit. But not only that, my body and soul would belong to Ares, for him to do with as he pleased. I shuddered in the warm night air at the thought of him touching me.

“Cold?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. The voice had come from beside my elbow, where no one had been only a moment before. I sat up in a hurry, scraping my arm against one of the thorny canes as I went. A young man stood next to me, suave in appearance with gelled hair and a well-fitted Armani suit. He had a smile that would have been even more dazzling if it weren’t for the sharp canines jutting from his mouth. His eyes, a lustrous blue, stared at the trickle of blood that flowed across my forearm.

“Paris, I presume?” I hastily wiped the blood onto the side of my jeans.

“Such a waste.” He sat beside me, uninvited.

I moved to rise, but Paris put a firm hand on my knee to keep me in place.

“Let me go.” I surreptitiously edged a hand down to the dagger stowed in my boot, but the vampire was on me quicker than my eye could follow. He deftly slid the blade from its hiding place, his hand lingering on my thigh for a moment before he took his seat again. Disarmed in an instant, I could do nothing but sit and wait for the handsome devil to strike.

“I’m not here to harm you.” He offered me the blade, hilt first. Though not trusting him for a second, I took the peace offering, holding it at the ready should he change his mind.

“Then what do you want?”

Though his suit was as dark as the night itself, I could tell he had a towering frame that promised speed and agility. His face was beautiful, almost too handsome to be believed. Yet there beneath the perfection was something that hinted at sadness. It was written in the lines around his eyes, ones that spoke of a time when he was happy, but no more. His appearance belied his true nature, for everyone in the Underworld and on earth knew the stories about Paris, his lust for blood and conquest. He’d killed so many—humans and immortals—that no one was keeping score anymore.

He was ruthlessly hunted by his own kind, and I well knew Desmerada’s spies were ever watchful for signs of him. He was marked for death the instant she gained enough power to become queen, for he was the true king of the vampires. Desmerada was only a pretender to his throne, the one he swore he would never claim. But he had outlived numerous assassins, still bringing death to any who crossed him. He was the most dangerous immortal alive, and he was sitting next to me and considering me with a hungry gaze.

“I just want to talk with you.”

“About what?”

He could easily kill me, blade or no, and I trusted him about as far as I could throw him.

He leaned forward, sparing a glance at the runes on my neck. “I’m curious why a servant of Artemis is here instead of in the company of the goddess.”

The blood drained from my face. If he knew my secret, it was only a matter of time before Roth found out, and I’d already let the cat out of the bag to Anne. Even so, I refused to be intimidated. “I’m no longer in her service, and my reasons are my own.”

The bastard smirked at me. “Tell me, how long ago was it that she cast you out?” The question hit me like a slap to the face.

“Wha-what makes you think I was cast out?” I tried my best to seem nonchalant.

“Oh, I know quite a few things. Now, answer my question.” He placed his hand on my knee, gripping it tightly and making me want to cry out from the sharp pain. He watched me closely, trying to learn my secrets. But why should he care about my past with Artemis?

“Tell me!” His fangs lengthened to terrifying points as he leaned in close. I flinched at his harsh tone but still would not give in. Paris likely hadn’t been refused anything by anyone in quite some time, but I wasn’t about to divulge any of my secrets to him.

“No! Now get your hand off me.” I tried to wrench my knee from his grasp but it was like struggling against an iron manacle. I looked him squarely in the eye with a bravado I didn’t feel. The intensity of his gaze was beginning to make me feel light-headed. I tried to look away, fearing he was going to enthrall me and then—

Come to think about it, Paris was an obscenely handsome man. His blue eyes were tantalizing, hypnotic. The “why” of being here wasn’t important. I needed him. The blade dropped from my hand as I straddled him, overcome with my need to feel his body pressing into mine. Was I actually thinking of using the dagger on him? Ludicrous.

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