The Vampire's Bride

After Vorik, Delilah had thought herself immune to men, her secret longings buried. Until now. She’d straddled the vampire’s shoulders and he’d looked between her legs with undiluted heat. The thought of giving herself to him had not been abhorrent. She’d wanted to command his hands on her, his mouth, something, anything. She’d wanted him to command her.

A shiver followed the thought, drowning her in another wave of that deep and inexorable desire. What would it be like to be bedded by him? Would he be gentle, taking her slowly? Or would his passion be as ferocious as his wild blue eyes promised? Perhaps even a little wicked?

“You’re aroused, Amazon. Why?”

Layel’s voice was so close, so husky, like a whispered entreaty, she wasn’t sure if she imagined it. She stiffened, fingers tight on the spear as she searched the darkness for him. Only treetops and night birds came into focus. Not even where thin slivers from the golden ball high above seeped through the canopy of leaves did she make out the form of a man. Slowly she relaxed.

Why am I aroused? Because of you, she wished she could tell this fantasy.

“Well?” Chilled breath caressed her ear.

She gasped. Too real, too real, too real…

Before she had time to react, however, a hard hand settled over her mouth while another shoved her to her back. A heavy, muscled weight slammed into her body. She lost her breath, barely managing to remain on the branch.

In seconds, Layel had her stretched out, her legs restrained. Her eyes widened as her spear was torn from her grip and thrown to the ground. A mocking thump echoed in her ears. She balled her hand and moved to strike him, but he released her mouth to check the action. Next he caged her arms between their bodies.

“You will not hurt me,” he said.

“And yet you feel free to hurt me. Besides, I’ll do anything I want.”

“Try.”

One word, but it was so smug she longed to slap him. Sadly, below the urge for violence was also the need to kiss him. She didn’t panic. Yet. Nola was nearby. Probably sneaking up on Layel…now. But no. A moment ticked by, then another.

Nola never arrived.

Delilah’s heart began to drum erratically in her chest, a dazzling realization settling deep inside her. Her blood rushed through her veins with dizzying speed, and need quivered in her belly. Here was her secret fantasy, in the flesh. Hers for the taking. Part of it, anyway. There’d be no happily-ever-after with this man, but there could be pleasure, a moment of giving and sharing and taking between a man and a woman.

You’re an Amazon. Act like one. Forcing herself into action, she raised her head and sank her teeth into his neck until she tasted the metallic tang of blood. He hissed in her ear, the sound a mix of pleasure and pain. You’re biting him to escape, yes? So why are you writhing?

Mmm, so good…her tongue flicked against his racing pulse.

His hands now free, he fisted her hair and jerked her away. He was panting, anger and arousal bright in his eyes. “Think yourself a vampire, do you? Or are you half vampire? I know your kind consorts with all creatures and you could have been fathered by any of the many races.”

She opened her mouth to respond but he shook his head, stopping her. “Scream and you’ll regret it.”

“As if I would scream,” she muttered, offended that he thought so little of her abilities. You did allow him to sneak up on you.

Oh, shut up.

He blinked in surprise, as if he’d expected her to scream despite his threat.

Her irritation intensified, and she glared at him. “How did you get up here? Did you hurt my sister?”

“She was gone when I reached you. I did not touch her.”

Where had Nola gone, then? “I suppose I will allow you to live. For now. But very soon I’m going to grow tired of letting you overpower me.”

He snorted.

“I mean it. Be thankful I haven’t already killed you.”

“Do not fool yourself, Amazon. You would be dead right now had I not stayed my hand.”

There was fury in his voice and hate in his expression. Stayed his hand? So he had come here to kill her? Bastard! Except, despite everything he had said, despite the genuine loathing directed at her, his legs were between hers and she could feel the length of his shaft hardening, growing, filling.

Just like that, her blood sizzled another degree. Blistered her veins. How did he do that to her? I am callous, and I care for no one but my sisters. If they were in Atlantis, she might agree to take him as her slave. If only for the two months males were allowed inside the Amazon camp. But here on this island with a competition in the works, they might very well be enemies.

A tremor slid down her spine.

“Afraid, Delilah?” he asked silkily, then muttered a curse she barely processed.

Then she realized why. Finally, he’d said her name. She wanted to grin. Spoken from those bloodstained lips…a hot ache bloomed between her legs, moisture pooling there. Earlier today, he hadn’t wanted to say her name, but she’d needed to hear it and had tried to force his hand. Still he’d resisted. And every time he’d called her “Amazon,” disgust had been evident in his voice. That alone should have caused her to lump him in the same forgettable group as every other man she’d ever encountered. But even then, underneath the disgust, there’d been a hint of husky satisfaction, as if he were already inside her, and she had only craved more of him.

“Of what?” The words emerged breathless. She wanted to point out what he’d done, what he’d said, but was afraid he would never do so again if she did.

“Dying. Pain.”

“No,” she answered honestly. Dying didn’t scare her. Pain didn’t scare her. But her reaction to this man petrified her. He made her feel vulnerable, as if she couldn’t rely on herself. As if she needed him to survive. He’d already overtaken her thoughts.

“You should be very afraid,” he said.

She stared up at him. His eyes were narrowed yet aglow with inner fire, drawing her in, mesmerizing her. Do not let him best you. Again. “My patience grows thin. Why are you here?”

“I thought I made that clear. I came to kill you.”

He spoke so matter-of-factly, she was surprised by the statement. She should have fought him at that point. Damned should. She should have bucked him off, at the least. Dove for the ground or demanded…an apology? Reparation?

Instead, she remained still. Hating herself. But gods, she enjoyed having him on top of her. “So why didn’t you?” Not that she thought he would have succeeded, even if he’d tried. Some part of her had to have known he was nearby. Some part of her had to have known he would not hurt her, and that’s why she’d permitted him to get so close.

“You wield some kind of magic power over me, and I want to know what it is,” he growled. That growl…it rolled along her spine, white lightning in a summer storm.

“Magic? Power?” she asked, wishing she sounded indignant rather than intrigued. “Me?”

“Do not pretend ignorance.” He grabbed her shoulders, squeezing, shaking. “Tell me what you’ve done to me, curse you! I demand an answer.”

“And I demand you take your hands off me before you lose them.” The warning escaped automatically, but her mind screamed a denial: Don’t let go. Hold me. Want me the way I want you.

“I will hurt you if I must, Delilah.”

Once again, her name on those sensual lips was wholly erotic, somehow a curse, as well as a caress. Again she shivered. Her nipples pearled, reaching for him, abrading the leather top she wore. “Do it, then. Hurt me.” She tilted her chin, knowing she was the picture of stubbornness.

What would he do, this warrior who had managed to sneak up on her? How would he react to her challenge?

His nostrils flared. The light in his eyes grew in intensity, casting an azure shadow over his wickedly eerie face. He stared at her mouth. For a moment, she thought he meant to kiss her. A bruising, punishing kiss. Please…But a minute ticked by, and he did nothing but glare.

Tired of waiting, she yanked one of her hands free, reached up and sifted strands of his hair through her fingers. “Soft,” she whispered.