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Selena

Bio:

Until recently, award-winning romance author Delilah Devlin lived in South Texas at the intersection of two dry creeks, surrounded by sexy cowboys in Wranglers. These days, she's missing the wide-open skies and starry nights but loving her dark forest in Central Arkansas, with its eccentric characters and isolation—the better to feed her hungry muse! For Delilah, the greatest sin is driving between the lines, because it's comfortable and safe. Her personal journey has taken her through one war and many countries, cultures, jobs, and relationships to bring her to the place where she is now—writing sexy adventures that hold more than a kernel of autobiography and often share a common thread of self-discovery and transformation.



MIL-7: Knight Dreams

(c)2007 Delilah Devlin, All Rights Reserved


“'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 now into his ear.

He forced himself not to flinch away, but already her scents 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, hussss-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's 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 flavours 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's 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 whole 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 magick 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 whole body would bend in a fierce arch, her fingernails would rake his skin, her pussy would clench around his cock so tight 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.

(For more of Knight Dreams please join Delilah's Newsletter )



Seduced by Darkness
Coming March 2008 from Avon RED
(c) Delilah Devlin, All Rights Reserved

For nearly 800 years, Revenant Nicolas Mountfaucon has dedicated his life to ensuring an immortal monster never walks free. When a terrible storm unleashes the beast, Nicolas’ past rises to haunt him, taunting him with the memory of the death of his bride and the loss of his brother at the hands of the ancient demon known as “The Devourer.” Nicolas turns to the only person who can provide him solace, Born vampire Chessa Tomas, sure she will join the hunt for the evil creature.

Only Chessa wants nothing to do with hunting the “Big Bad”—he’s Nic’s and the Ardeal coven’s problem, not hers. She shed her responsibilities as a Born, refusing her seat on the council because she doesn’t trust their leader. She holds their ancient matriarch responsible for the death of her husband and child years ago. However, Nic isn’t easily dismissed—he appeals to the secret side her nature that needs to be dominated.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fresh from her shower, Chessa heard the heavy knock and glanced at her clock on the bedside stand. Still an hour before she had to be at work.

Not the super. She’d paid her rent. Besides, he’d fled with the rest of the building’s inhabitants when the Mayor ordered evacuation.

And not her partner seeing whether she wanted to get a cup of coffee before reporting to duty. Her partner wasn’t coming today.

Or ever again.

Curious, she threaded through piles of discarded clothing to her front door and peered through the peephole into a hallway lit only by grayish, pre-dusk light from the landing window. The power had gone out sometime during the night. Just one more annoyance on top of the last hellish twenty-four hours.

A familiar man stood on her threshold. Broad shoulders, long dark hair—her body clenched. “Nic?” What was he doing in the city again so soon? How the hell had he gotten in? She’d heard most of the roads around the city were closed due to flooding.

“Chessa, open the door.”

Something in his voice had her gripping the doorknob tight. Her chest tightened. She didn’t want to know what brought him here.

“Please,” he said, weariness and raw, aching need flavoring the rich timbre of his voice.

Although they’d sated their appetite for sex a few hours ago, Chessa’s body softened instantly, heat tightening her womb. She hated the way her body betrayed her.

They’d said their farewells, she reminded herself. “We had a deal, Nic. You stick to your turf—I’ll stick to mine.”

“Chessa, open the goddamn door.”

The “or else” he left unspoken in his lightly accented voice. She got the message and turned the knob, stepping aside to let him in as she wrapped her towel tightly around her body.

A quick, sweeping glance told her there was trouble. Big, fat vampire trouble. Nicolas looked a mess.

His long black-brown hair hung in damp, curling tendrils around his lean face. His exposed skin was grimy-looking, and he smelled of sewage and sour swamp water.

His hands reached for her.

Without time to sidestep, she found herself smashed against his chest, his strong hands clutching her close.

She leaned back in the circle of his arms and stared into his face. What she saw troubled her. His jaw was clenched tight, and his face was unnaturally pale—even by a vampire’s standards. “What’s happened?”

His throat tightened, but he shook his head and lowered it.

Only she’d just had a shower, and he stunk to high heaven. Besides, she needed space to calm the riot of feelings he aroused. Ones she was still uncomfortable acknowledging even existed. She pressed her palms against his chest to halt him.

She loved Rene. Although he’d chosen to enter a mage’s sanctuary with another Born vampire, Chessa wasn’t over him yet.

Her feelings for Nicolas were strictly carnal—and she needed to get her libido back under control. Unbridled passion had been unleashed by proximity to Natalie Lambert’s coming into season, as only a transforming Born could inspire. That arousal had spilled over onto Chessa and Nicolas—it was the only explanation Chessa would allow for the strength of the desire that even now made her body yearn toward his.

Nicolas’s chest heaved, and his eyes narrowed to feral slits. “Don’t deny me. Not now.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You stink.”

“Then we’ll shower,” he said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

As always, his first terse words had her melting. “Tell me why you’re here,” she said, searching for a way to put him off while she shored up her fading resistance.

Another shake of his head, this time sharp and violent. “Later,” he ground out.

Then she noted the wildness in his eyes. Something had rattled his cage. Nicolas was never anything but completely in control. Chessa felt the last bit of solid ground crumble beneath her. “All right,” she said softly and held up a hand to ward off a kiss. “But shower first.” He’d have to let her go to follow her.

However, Nicolas wasn’t giving her the space she needed to regroup. He grabbed the top of her towel and ripped it away, then slammed his mouth on hers, backing her toward the bedroom.

Chessa’s bare feet skidded on her wood floor as she dug in her heels, but he swept her along, through her bedroom into the bathroom, all the while punishing her lips with a brutal kiss.

When the edge of the tub brought them up short, he reached behind her and yanked aside the shower curtain. “Turn it on.”

Dumbly, she reached behind her, fumbling to turn the knob, finally sending a spray of water that misted around them before he lifted her above the rim of her tub to set her inside.

Nicolas tore at his clothes, dropping them at his feet, then stepped beside her in the stall, crowding her against the cool tile walls. “Any more objections?” he asked, in his oddly rasping voice.

She shook her head, overwhelmed and mute with rising desire. Her body already strained toward his. Her breasts swelled, her nipples ruching tight and hard. Her legs trembled, and her sex released a trickle of fragrant moisture she couldn’t deny.

His hands reached around her and grasped her bottom, lifting her off her feet, crushing her breasts to his chest, her mons against his the base of his rigid cock.

With his erection pressing into her belly, any objection was obliterated. She flung out her arms and gripped his shoulders, aiding him as he angled her body toward his and thrust his cock between her legs.

Chessa groaned as he slid inside her. “Bastard, we had a deal.”

His response was a flex of his hips to thrust hard inside her, tunneling deep, pressing higher until the strength of his hips and cock had her feet dangling above the porcelain bottom of the tub.

When he’d reached inside her as far as he could, he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing away her breath and laid his cheek alongside hers, his chest heaving.

She shivered from arousal so strong it nearly choked her and from fear of whatever had shaken Nicolas to his core. She’d never seen him like this. “What is it? What’s happened?”

His head drew away, and his gaze burned as it slid to her lips. “Later,” he groaned.

Again, the wildness in his gaze and the tension that gripped his broad shoulders and arms as he held her unsettled her. This wasn’t Nicolas with his sardonic quips and ever-watchful gaze. Accustomed of late to him showing up at unexpected times to tempt her, this was different.

He was frightened.

Although tempted to argue, to chide him and try to drive him away, she wound her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and pulled him close, dragging his head down to bury against her shoulder.

If she were honest with herself, she was glad he’d come.

Not that she was ready to be anybody’s rock. She had problems of her own. A life to sort out. One far away from the vampire enclave at Ardeal.

Nicolas was entrenched in that life, but she had broken free decades ago and vowed she’d never go back. Whatever was bothering him now wasn’t her problem.

But she could hold him and let his warmth and strength provide her comfort as well. She had her own needs and a desolate loneliness that had filled her when she’d shut her apartment door hours earlier and realized the only friend she had in the world was lost to her forever.

“Stop thinking,” he growled.

“Just fuck me,” she bit out, meeting his hard gaze with a glare of her own.

Their hips churned against each other in a desperate coupling. Not at all the sexy, teasing pummeling she’d come to expect—that in itself was an indication of his upset. His movements lacked finesse. He gave no thought for her pleasure, which he was always so careful to draw out—torturing her with her own desire.

Instead, his hands gripped her ass hard, pushing her up and down his cock, grinding her back against the cool tiles as he powered into her.

When he came, his eyes squeezed tight, his body grew rigid, and he held his breath for one endless moment. After his pulsing release waned, he dropped his forehead against the tiles. “Get out.”

Surprised at the harshness of his voice, she didn’t question him, just unwound her legs from his waist and slid down his body. She stepped out of the tub to dry herself with a towel while he remained inside, drawing the curtain closed behind him.

She couldn’t think of a thing to say. Despite the steamy air inside the room, she shivered.

Damn. It sure as hell felt like she cared about the fact he’d tossed her out of her own shower.