Whispers had reached Javan that Canaan Romerac wasn’t dead after all. After five hundred years with Canaan’s brother running House Romerac, it was now said that Canaan had killed his brother for betraying him.
Javan discovered just an hour earlier that those rumors were true. He was anxious to talk to Canaan and learn what had transpired in those centuries.
Betrayal was a natural part of an Incubus’s life. It just wasn’t supposed to come from within one’s own family. Javan couldn’t imagine any of his brothers betraying him.
But Canaan probably said the same thing.
There was upheaval in their world. First, House Akana suddenly dying out, which gave House Marakel the Obsidian Throne. Now, the Sovereign refusing to step down after his allotted centuries on the Throne.
Javan wished that’s all there was, but Elijah had given him more news the night before. A few Blades—females who are half human and half angel who were on the Death Squad for the Sovereign—had begun to go rogue.
What the hell else was going to happen?
“Give me five minutes, and I’ll be there,” Elijah said.
“The Sovereign has demanded I come alone,” Javan said as he stood. He went on before Elijah could argue. “That’s why I want you in the shadows so he can’t see you.”
Elijah smiled and pivoted. “Be wary, Javan.”
As if he needed to be reminded. Obviously the Sovereign didn’t want to give up the Throne, even though it was how the Houses had survived through thousands of millennia.
Just what was the Sovereign up to?
Anyone sitting on the Obsidian Throne had the key to Heaven, Hell, and the prison for the supernatural—the Oubliette.
Family made him think about his own. Javan put his hands on his desk and sighed. Drohas had been a strong House within the Incubus world, and in order for that to continue, Javan needed an heir.
At one time, that hadn’t been an issue. The numbers of their female race, the Succubi, had once been many, but they had since been wiped out.
The only way for an Incubus to continue their line was with a Nephilim—a half human, half angel. The Nephilim were proud of their heritage, and more than willing to birth babies the Incubi needed to continue.
But there was a catch. If an Incubus had sex with a Nephilim more than eight times, they were mated. The Incubus wouldn’t be able to have sex with anyone but his mated female. And the Nephilim would become immortal.
It was why many Nephilim had attempted to deceive an Incubus into a long-term relationship. It was also why the Harem had been designed.
Each Nephilim family had a daughter chosen for the Harem. The female was obligated to birth one child for a House. The female would give up all ties to the child.
Each of Javan’s three brothers had been to the Harem and conceived children there. Javan was the only one who hadn’t seen to his duties.
All that would change in a week’s time when he was scheduled for a visit.
It wasn’t that Javan didn’t want children, because he wanted that very much. But he yearned for what the humans had—a wife, love, a family.
But that wasn’t the way for most Incubi.
Javan straightened and walked around his desk. It was time for his meeting.
~
Naomi stared at herself in the mirror of the bathroom. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so nervous, and it had nothing to do with her photographs hanging on the wall for the exhibit outside the bathroom door.
No, it all had to do with Javan Drohas.
She had been following him for several weeks, waiting to get a glimpse of the man. He was cagey, rarely seen. Those times he left the building, she only caught a fleeting look at him. Thankfully there were pictures of him that she was able to look up on the internet.
Of course he would be drop-dead gorgeous. Men like him always were. But that didn’t stop her from continuing on her mission. His looks, power, and money were nothing she wanted. No, she was after something else entirely.
The reflection staring back at Naomi looked sophisticated and cultured. Her chic black dress skimmed her body, but was high-necked and sleeveless. The cocktail dress was shorter than she would’ve liked, allowing much of her legs to be seen. Since she was so tall, she probably shouldn’t have chosen the slinky stilettos, but she hadn’t been able to resist wearing them.
Her blond hair was pulled away from her face in a low ponytail secured at the base of her neck. The only jewelry that adorned her were gold earrings that hung nearly to her shoulders.
Naomi took a deep breath and slowly released it. “You can do it,” she reminded herself.
One last check of her lipstick, and Naomi walked out of the bathroom. The gallery had yet to open to guests. Only the artists who had pieces at the exhibit were in the building.
Naomi glanced around, looking for Javan. She should’ve guessed he wouldn’t arrive until the guests. He was much too important to talk to the lowly artists he wanted to claim he found.
Her stomach rolled violently. She hadn’t eaten for fear of tossing up her cookies, and it had been the right thing to do by the way she felt.