For love, a man will do anything, even betray his beloved to save her...
Vampire Quentin Albermarle's wife Darcy lies in a coma after being savaged by a werewolf. Fearing she might never awaken, or worse, that she will return a maddened beast, Quentin returns to the Cayman Islands, seeking help from the one woman who might be able to save her.
A century and a half ago, this powerful vampire and witch seduced Quentin with magic and turned him into a vampire to provide herself a mate, but he freed himself from her spell and fled her influence, knowing he'd left behind a powerful enemy. Returning now, seeking Kamaria's help, he must resist her attempts to enslave him again. However, the price she demands may cause him to lose the woman he loves.
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November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from Knight of My Dreams by Delilah Devlin
"'Bout time you come home, husband."
Quentin Albermarle steeled himself against the sudden thrill that quickened his heartbeat and heated his sex. He couldn't see her yet, but the scent of honeysuckle and mint strengthened. "Don't call me that, witch!" he spit out.
"Husband," she enunciated slowly, closer this time. "Husss-band," she whispered into his ear.
He forced himself not to flinch away, but already her scent wafted, thinned. He relaxed as she moved silently away. Although his night vision was keen, he couldn't see her yet and knew she'd used glamour to tantalize and tease him. "We never married," he said, keeping his tone flat, emotionless.
"You called me wife."
"You played with my affections--tricked me into loving you."
"So angry still," she said in her throaty, lilting tones. "So scared." At last she circled to stand in front of him.
She was as lovely as the night he'd finally broken free of her spell. Nearly his height, her eyes rose only slightly to meet his steady glare. A deep, bottomless brown, her wide-set gaze stared back, unblinking.
Quentin knew her tricks and drew himself back, shifting his glance to look beyond her shoulders, sweeping the shadows of the tiled patio to see whether they were alone.
"All alone, we are," she said, lifting her hand to trail a long finger along the crest of his shoulder. "Aren't you going to ask me, husss-band?"
Quentin drew a deep breath, slowly, trying not to let her see how important his request was to him. A foolish wish, naturally. The witch "saw" everything. Had likely scried his arrival on the island in a bowl of blood-kissed water. "I need your help."
Her gaze swept sideways and her lips curved in a close-lipped, feline smile. "You know what I will demand, husss-band."
Knowing the cost might be more than he could bear, Quentin bit out, "What do you want?"
She turned, looking back at him over the shoulder bared by her loose, silk caftan. "Three times...you must bring me satisfaction. You must make me scream with want of you. Then, and only then, will I...consider...helping you save your other woman. The one who lies asleep. The one you fear will waken snarling over your betrayal."
Quentin closed his eyes briefly. She'd asked the one thing he most feared. Darcy would never forgive him. "Don't ask me this. I love her."
"You love her, yet you let them take the one thing she will never forgive you for losing."
"I couldn't save it," he said quickly. Too quickly.
"Perhaps, you did not want to save it. You chose her over his child."
"I chose life over inevitable death."
Her head canted in her odd way, as though listening to whispers. Her gaze narrowed. "Are you so sure the little one is lost?"
"He was pierced by a wolf's fangs. He's as good as dead."
"And yet you stand here, asking me to save her--when she too was savaged by a wolf."
Quentin ground his jaws together, so fierce was his desire to do something--anything--to save her. "She's strong. So are your powers. It's the only reason I'm standing here now."
"You want a chance," she said softly, moving again, pausing in the shadows beside a potted hyacinth to stroke its petals. "Maybe I can give it to you." When her gaze sliced back, her eyes glittered, her mouth formed a rigid line. "But first, you must please me. Do you remember how to do that, lover?"
Oh, he remembered. She'd enslaved him, taught him exactly how to ease the ache that accompanied a ravenous appetite for sex. Too many times, she'd left him drunk on the flavors of her arousal. He'd feasted on her feminine flesh countless times--still dreamed of it in his nightmares.
He'd been young, reckless...stupid. Led by his cock and his thirst for adventure.
She'd been elusive, mysterious. Appearing at the edge of Lewis' estate gardens then disappearing with the next blink of his eyes, fascinating him with fleeting glimpses of her long, taut body and lovely face.
He'd dreamed of her before they'd actually met. Made love to her in a dream world where every fantasy he'd ever conceived, and many more he'd never thought of, came true under her tutelage.
God, he remembered her taste, the feel of her satiny, oiled skin, the scent of honeysuckle, mint and her womanly musk. "Stop it!"
Her laughter was low and sultry. She stepped fully from the shadows into the moonlight and drew her shift over her head, dropping it to the patio floor.
Naked, her body was everything he'd remembered. Honed, powerful muscle. Sleek curves. Full, luscious breasts tipped with dark brown nipples, slightly oval. The stems were tight and long as though a lover had already plucked them.
Below, there was one change. Her pussy was waxed, the brown folds plump and glistening.
She trailed a finger between her nether lips and brought it to her mouth, licking it clean like a cat. "Yes, I knew you'd come. I've waited. Longed for this. Now you will taste my devotion, my lust for you."
Quentin's body tightened in rejection. "Don't ask this," he ground out.
"Because she won't forgive you?"
"Because I won't ever forgive you if you demand this."
Her hand speared the air, her fingers fluttering in a beckoning motion that tugged his cock into full erection.
So quickly, he hissed between his clenched teeth.
"You think you have a choice?"
His heartbeats growing leaden inside his chest, he knew he didn't. His resistance would be overcome, whether by her magic or by his need. To fight her now would only anger her.
And he had to please her. Make her come three times...screaming. He knew how to draw her arousal so tight her entire body would bend in a fierce arch, her fingernails would rake his skin, her pussy would clench around his cock so tightly he'd give up his seed, helpless to resist.
This was how it had always been between them.
Fierce. Fucking like animals. Once, long ago, he'd thought he found his soul mate in a dark-skinned woman. Instead he'd surrendered his soul to a demon.