Dark Possession - Aja James Page 0,3
look into his opponent’s sharp, obsidian eyes and known beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was no match and never would be.
In fact, no one amongst the most powerful Dark noble houses was a match for Ramses. They didn’t know why. They only suspected that he was very ancient and very powerful.
But they didn’t know.
Like prey with undeniable instincts for self-preservation, they’d all bent a knee when Jade abdicated the throne to Ramses.
Clawless housecats, each and every one.
Ramses’ upper lip curled in disgust at the thought, startling the speaker into an abrupt stop mid-sentence.
“Continue,” Ramses bid the Dark noble.
Yes, please do finish the hour-long monologue, get to the point, so they could wrap this session. Ramses was already late for his next appointment.
“…I request your support in this matter, my Liege, before Varna takes a more violent, unlawful approach to settling our dispute.”
Ramses sat up slightly straighter on a deep inhale of patience-fortifying breath.
“Indeed. You shall have it.”
Before the noble could launch into extravagant thanks for the king’s largesse, Ramses slowly rose from his seat.
“Leave the specifics with one of my Sentries on your way out. I must attend to other pressing matters.”
The noble bowed deeply and backed out of the throne room in the same submissive posture.
As soon as he was gone, Ramses signaled to two of his Sentries to follow him out of the Cove.
He didn’t need their protection, but again, appearances must be kept. As it was, he was already disregarding protocol by not having one or more of the Chosen with him away from the base, but he wasn’t about to waste any of their scarce resources on himself.
In any case, only Eli was available. And he had a more important job to do, protecting the Cove and his females.
It was just as well, because the meeting Ramses was headed to now he’d rather keep to himself. Maximus, his right hand and Commander of the Chosen, would not approve.
Not that Ramses needed anyone’s approval to do anything he wanted. But he was still new to his role, and while he had the respect of the Chosen, their trust and loyalty had yet to be won. All of them were human and Pure One sympathizers for one reason or another. Just like their previous queen.
While Ramses was…decidedly not.
In fairness, he didn’t have a preference for any race. He only believed in power. Survival of the fittest, and rule by the strongest.
He’d allowed himself to be weak before. It was a mistake he didn’t intend to ever repeat again.
During the two-hour ride from NYC to the secluded woods of the Catskills, Ramses considered how best to handle his current dilemma.
He was on his way to receive a “gift” from an anonymous benefactor. A vampire ring-leader who was gathering increasing support for his or her bid to aggress upon, and enslave, Pure Ones once more. As such, Ramses had a good idea what the gift was.
The question was whether he would accept or reject it.
If he accepted the gift, he would be implicitly condoning the ring-leader’s plans, which would lead to increased tensions between the Pure and Dark Ones, and potentially full-blown war.
If he rejected the gift, he’d be implicitly supporting Pure One sympathizers and going against the majority of the Dark noble houses under his rule, which would lead to increased internal tensions, and potentially civil war within his hive.
It was an ingenious way to test his allegiance and resolve, a forcing mechanism to make him choose.
Which, to date, he hadn’t.
The Chosen continued to carry out Jade’s last edicts, and he hadn’t interfered. Nor had he explicitly supported the tentative truce and alliance between the races.
When the Pure Ones came calling, he only admitted Jade Cicada into his presence. The former vampire queen was their go-between, now that she was Mated to the Pure Ones’ Consul. In this way, he neither directly confirmed nor denied their so-called allies.
A corner of his mouth curled on a third option.
He could always make the “gift” disappear, removing the necessity of having to accept or reject it.
But first, he was curious to see it. And perhaps take a small taste.
He was a Dark One, after all.
There was no greater ambrosia to vampires than the sweet nectar of Pure blood.
*** *** *** ***
Eveline Marceau was not the sort of female who frequently found herself in precarious situations.
She was rather consternated, now, as she was dragged and pushed through what sounded and smelled like dark, dense woods, blindfolded and bound, though thankfully