Masters of Seduction: Books 1-4: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set Read online

  There was nothing in this world, or any other, that paid quite so well as secrets.

  A wry smile twisted his lips as he recalled the extremely large fortune that had just been transferred into his account from a human politician who preferred to keep his habit of siphoning funds from his elderly donors from hitting the front page.

  “This is a bad idea,” Taka growled.

  Jian turned his head to study the large Incubus standing next to him.

  The captain of Xanthe’s Watchmen, Taka looked exactly like what he was—a ruthless killer. Dressed in leather pants and a T-shirt despite the frigid air, he was as large as an ox, with bluntly carved features and a smoothly shaved skull. His skin was tanned to a rich mahogany, and his arms, which bulged with muscle, were tattooed with the Xanthe House emblem of a warrior.

  Jian, on the other hand, was built along leaner lines, with the sleek muscles of a trained swordsman.

  His skin was a smooth, unblemished honey and his straight blue-black hair was cut short on the sides, with the top long enough to fall over his wide forehead. He had a thin blade of a nose and high, narrow cheekbones that whispered of his Far Eastern heritage. His face was lean, with eyes that were faintly tilted and glowed like melted gold in the sunlight.

  At the moment, he was dressed in the traditional white robe that was expected from a petitioner to the Obsidian Throne. Not that he intended to be seen, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

  “So you’ve said,” he drawled. Taka had been bitching about their journey since they stepped into his private jet that had been waiting for Jian in Hong Kong. “With tedious regularity.”

  “I just want it on the record,” Taka insisted, one of the very few who would dare speak to Jian with such familiarity. “This is a very bad idea.”

  “Duly noted,” Jian murmured, his gaze returning to the top of the mountain where a massive stone structure was disguised behind thick layers of demon magic.

  The forbidding fortress had been specifically built to protect the Obsidian Throne, the ultimate symbol of power in the demon world. As well as the Sovereign, the leader of the Incubi, who sat on the Throne.

  At least…the House of Marakel was the current leader of the Incubi.

  Jian clenched his hands at his side, a blast of fury searing away the deep freeze.

  It’d taken centuries, but at last the rest of the world was beginning to suspect what Jian’s grandfather had always known.

  The Master of Marakel couldn’t be trusted.

  “Then let’s go home.” Taka broke into his dark thoughts, glaring at their bleak surroundings despite the fact he was as impervious as Jian to the frigid weather.

  “I’ve been hired to perform a job, Taka,” Jian reminded his guard, his voice soft but filled with a dark power that could make a woman fall to her knees in ecstasy or a man tremble with fear. “To walk away would jeopardize my reputation and put the future of our House at risk.”

  “You would have your life.”

  “My honor has more value,” he reminded Taka. Xanthe House had been forced to pay a steep price for his grandfather’s refusal to kneel before the Throne. He wasn’t going to throw it all away because his path had become unexpectedly dangerous. “To all of us.”

  Taka gave a grudging nod. “Fine. Then at least allow me to go in first.”

  Jian arched a brow. “You are a formidable warrior, Taka, but you have no talent in seeing through illusions. You would set off any alarm that has been hidden.”

  Taka’s expression hardened, his frustration vibrating through the air.

  “Why the hell do you have me as a Watchman when you won’t let me protect you?”

  “Your charming personality.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Jian gave a short laugh before returning his attention to the gray fortress with its thick walls and heavy turrets.

  “Do you sense anything?” he demanded.

  Taka tilted back his head, allowing his acute senses to scan their surroundings.

  “No. It feels…” He paused, as if baffled by the desolate emptiness that surrounded them. “Abandoned.”

  Jian nodded. He was equally wary of the lack of overt activity.

  Surely there should be dozens, if not hundreds, of servants and guests filling the fortress?

  “Wait here,” he muttered, lifting his arms as he prepared to use his power to travel through the layers of illusion, only to be halted as Taka placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Master, wait.”

  Jian bit back a curse, appreciating his Watchman’s concern even as he wanted to be done with this latest job.

  “We have to discover the truth, Taka,” he said. “Not just because I was hired by Vipera to track down the Sovereign, but because we have to know if the Nephilim have truly been destroying the Succubi. Not to mention where the newest Council members have been hiding.” His jaw clenched with a renewed burst of anger. “And most importantly if the authority of the Obsidian Throne is being used as a weapon against the Incubi.”

  Taka grimaced. “Marakel might be a power-hungry bastard, but you can’t believe he would destroy his own people?”

  Jian didn’t hesitate. “After five hundred years on the Throne I think he would sacrifice the world to maintain his position as the Sovereign.”

  Taka reluctantly loosened his grip, his body rigid as he struggled against his instinct to prevent Jian from walking into danger.

  “You have twenty minutes,” he grudgingly offered. “A second longer and I’m coming after you.”

  Jian’s lips twitched at the rough words. “Remind me again who is Master.”

  The dark eyes narrowed. “Twenty minutes.”

  Jian conceded defeat. Why push the issue? In twenty minutes he’d either have found the information he needed or he would be dead.

  And just in case it was the latter…

  “If I don’t return, you’ll need to get word to my brother,” he warned his companion. “The Sovereign will most certainly retaliate against our House if I’m discovered.”

  Taka slowly nodded. “Take care.”

  Without offering the Watchman another opportunity to halt him, Jian gave a wave of his slender hand, disappearing in a swirl of demon magic.

  There was the sense of shifting through dimensions before Jian was reforming in an antechamber just off the reception hall that he’d deliberately chosen before leaving his home. The blueprints he’d discovered that revealed the original construction of the fortress might have been old, but he doubted anything had been changed in the past few millenniums.

  He swiftly melded into the shadows of the empty room, pressing against the stone wall as he moved to peer out the open door.

  Pausing, he absorbed the details of his surroundings.

  The lofty echo of the nearby Throne Room. The moist, scented heat from the public baths. The whisper of silk from the private harem.

  And…emptiness.

  He frowned. He could sense less than a couple dozen servants spread throughout the massive fortress. And none of them had the power signature that would indicate the Sovereign.

  So where the hell was Marakel?

  Jian stepped out of the small room and moved through the catacomb of hallways that connected the public rooms with the private living quarters.

  He wasn’t certain what he expected to find. His research had turned up remarkably little information on the Sovereign over the past few decades. There were rumors he was desperately trying to produce a child, and that he’d bribed a younger brother of Canaan to change the name of the House of Romerac in exchange for putting Canaan in the Oubliette—the equivalent of demon purgatory.

  But he couldn’t discover any accounts of face-to-face meetings with the Sovereign in the past twenty years.

  So was the bastard in hiding?

  And even if he was, what had he done with the large staff of Incubi who were specifically chosen from the various Houses to serve the Sovereign and protect the fo
rtress?

  He grimaced at the thick silence that hung like a shroud in the stifling air.

  Clearly he wasn’t going to discover anything by skulking in the shadows. It was time to take a more direct route.

  Following the scent of the closest demon, Jian entered a large bedroom decorated with glazed mosaic tiles in brilliant shades of red, black, and gold. In the center of the room was a pile of satin pillows and at the far end was a silk screen that separated a shallow pool from the room.

  Just across the floor from Jian, there was an arched doorway that led to a balcony that was framed by heavy pillars.

  Or at least…

  Jian narrowed his gaze, his breath hissing between his teeth.

  An illusion.

  Speaking a word of power, Jian shattered the magic, revealing that the doorway didn’t lead to an open balcony, but instead into a thick darkness that sent a shudder of revulsion through him.

  He couldn’t see what was beyond the doorway, but he knew that it was another dimension.

  Jian frowned. The Obsidian Throne had been created to block the doorway between Heaven and Hell. Was this the entryway it protected?

  And if it was…why was it open?

  Dread twisted his gut as he stepped forward, his concentration locked on the doorway even as he sensed the Blade move from a shallow alcove to stand directly in his path.

  “Incubus,” the female warrior spat out, her hand reaching to pull out a long, obsidian dagger.

  Expecting one of the traditional honor guards, Jian narrowed his gaze as he studied the Nephilim dressed in a black linen tunic and loose pants with supple boots.

  Her lean face was pretty and surrounded by a halo of pale golden curls, but Jian didn’t miss the practiced ease of her movements, or the barely suppressed violence that smoldered in her eyes.

  This was a well-trained warrior who was eager for a fight.

  “Blade,” he said with a mocking dip of his head. “Are you lost?”

  The female flicked a dismissive glance over Jian, clearly unaware of his status.

  “I was about to ask you the same question,” she drawled.

  Jian folded his arms over his chest. The obsidian dagger could kill him, but he wasn’t the Master of his House simply for his ability to see through illusions.

  There were fewer than a dozen demons strong enough to best in him battle.

  And this Blade wasn’t one of them.

  “Why are you here?” he demanded, his voice a low tendril of seduction that brought a flush of anger to the female’s face.

  There were few things that could piss off a Blade more than forcing her to feel arousal toward her enemy.

  “I’m a guard for the Sovereign,” the Blade snapped.

  Jian’s brows snapped together. “Impossible. Only Watchmen serve as protectors to the Throne.”

  The female tried to sneer, but Jian sensed she was beginning to suspect that Jian was not just another Incubus.

  “Obviously the Sovereign no longer trusts the Incubi to keep him safe.”

  “Careful, Blade.” His voice lowered, threading pain with pleasure. “You wouldn’t want to imply there are traitors among my people.”

  The female made a strangled sound, gripping the hilt of her weapon as if it could protect her from the sensations that were making her body twitch.

  “Why else would they send an assassin?”

  A cold smile curved Jian’s lips. It wasn’t uncommon for people to assume that anyone from the House of Xanthe was a paid killer.

  And he’d dealt his share of death.

  “Make no mistake, if I was here to kill you, you would be dead.”

  The Blade took an instinctive step backward even as she held up the dagger in a gesture of bravado.

  “Don’t threaten me, demon.”

  Jian shook his head.

  So young.

  And stupid.

  “Not a threat…a promise.” Jian’s smile abruptly disappeared, the air sizzling with the force of his impatience. He had less than ten minutes before Taka would be charging into the fortress, stealing away any hope for discretion. “Take me to the Sovereign.”

  “He isn’t here.”

  Jian clenched his hands, but he didn’t argue. He’d already suspected that Marakel was absent from the fortress.

  “Then where is he?”

  “This is not a prison.” The Blade shrugged. “The Sovereign is allowed to come and go as he pleases.”

  “Without his supposed bodyguard?” Jian taunted.

  “I am but one of—”

  The words were cut short as there was a sudden movement in the doorway.

  Holy shit.

  Someone, or something, had been about to step into the bedroom before they’d seemingly sensed that it wasn’t empty and retreated back into the darkness.

  Without hesitation Jian was moving forward. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he was done screwing around.

  He wanted answers. And he wanted them now.

  Starting with the mysterious gateway.

  “Stop.” The Blade hastily moved to block the opening. “What are you doing?”

  “Move aside or die.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Idiot.”

  With a nonchalant motion, Jian knocked the dagger from the younger female’s hand. Then, wrapping his fingers around the Blade’s throat, he lifted her off her feet and smashed the back of her head into the slender column.

  There was a low grunt before the Blade crumpled to the floor in an unconscious heap. She was injured, but she would recover.

  Stepping over the Nephilim warrior, Jian leaned down to grasp the obsidian dagger.

  He paused long enough to strip off the robe to reveal the black jeans and T-shirt beneath before sending a brief text to Taka, ordering him to return to their homeland.

  Then, with a grim determination he moved forward, allowing the darkness to consume him as he stepped through the doorway.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Muriel was tired.

  Not just physically, although the past days of enduring the abyss had taken a toll on her body. After all, even angels felt pain when they were dropped into a pit of flames that seared the flesh from their bones.

  But she was also mentally and spiritually exhausted.

  For five hundred and thirty years she’d been the Mistress of the Oubliette, a job forced on her by the Angel Conclave after she’d refused the mate that had been chosen by her family.

  It was a punishment she’d accepted rather than being bound to a male who considered her nothing more than a suitable breeder.

  Of course, when she’d accepted the punishment, she’d believed the promise that she would be purged of her shame and returned to her family at the end of two centuries.

  Now, as the years continued to pass and the Conclave refused to answer her pleas to be released, she was beginning to accept that she’d been well and truly swindled.

  Clearly her gig in the Oubliette was destined to be an open-ended sort of deal…at least until some other angel was stupid enough to piss off the Conclave.

  And worse, a week ago she’d allowed an Incubus to escape, which triggered her painful trip to the abyss.

  Reaching a small cavern, she came to an abrupt halt, a tiny shiver racing over her skin.

  Shit.

  A demon had arrived in the Oubliette through the secret entrance.

  Incubus.

  But not the one she’d been commanded to allow free access to the lower dungeons.

  With a low curse, she called on her protective illusion. Suddenly she was no longer an angel, but a creature with crimson skin and leathery bat-like wings that spread behind her. She had a long, slithery tail and eyes that could blind when she unleashed her powers.

  If that wasn’t hideous enough, she added the appearance of snakes twining around her body and the offensive stench of sulfur.

  Flicking out her forked tongue, she tested the air
, her claws scraping on the rock as she stood in the center of the chamber.

  The Incubus was near, but somehow he was capable of hiding himself from her sight.

  Muriel shivered, her mouth dry. Dammit. She was still weakened from her days of torture.

  The last thing she needed was yet another Incubus causing her trouble.

  “I can sense your presence, intruder. Reveal yourself.”

  A brush of acute pleasure slid over her skin, her body suddenly filled with a molten heat.

  “Not until you answer my questions.” A dark, wickedly beautiful voice filled the cavern.

  Muriel’s breath lodged in her throat. She was an angel. She should be immune to the raw sensuality that was a tangible force in the air.

  So why was her heart racing and her mind filled with images of black satin sheets and a hard, hot body pressed against hers?

  “This is my house,” she said between clenched teeth. “You don’t give the orders here.”

  “So who does?”

  She gave a flick of her imaginary tail. “I do.”

  “A lie,” he whispered from the shadows.

  Muriel stiffened, her gaze darting around the chamber in a desperate attempt to catch sight of the demon.

  She’d just escaped from the abyss. She’d be damned if another Incubus managed to send her back to the agonizing flames.

  “Who are you?”

  “That depends,” the sinful voice drawled. “Give me what I want and I promise to be your deepest fantasy. Defy me and I’ll make you beg for mercy.”

  The whisper of bliss stroking her skin. A dark, sinful heat flowing through her blood. A flutter of excitement that made her pussy clench in anticipation…

  Muriel battled to disguise her shiver of pleasure, even as she accepted this demon was more than a pain in her ass. He was capable of stirring the passions she’d buried centuries ago.

  That made him a danger she couldn’t tolerate.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she ignored the warm scent of cinnamon and luscious male as she began to slowly back toward the opening at the far side of the cavern.

  Hopefully he would assume that she was trying to covertly retreat from the blinding power of his seduction.