My Immortal Knight 2: Love Bites

by Delilah Devlin

  “Are you suggesting we should take this vampire on?” Joe asked.

  “No.” I just want him off my back. “I’m saying this isn’t our decision.”

  “We’ll bring you to the Captain,” Joe said, sounding disgusted.

  “If you help us,” Darcy said, “What’s in it for you?”

  “I need a place to stay. I choose yours.”

  The air whooshed from her lungs at the thoughts his remark invoked.

  “Let’s get this guy some pants before Darcy hyperventilates,” Max said.

  Chapter Two

  The guys were crowded around the bathroom door at the station house when Darcy returned with a cup of steaming coffee. “What gives?” she asked. “Doesn’t the uniform fit?”

  “Seems when a vampire gets it up, he has to do something with it.” Max shrugged. “You asked.”

  Darcy’s face burned. “Sorry I did.”

  A roar echoed from inside the bathroom, and Darcy turned on her heels. Head down, she carried her cup to the conference room table to wait for the rest of the crew to file in and take their seats. She hated to admit, even to herself, that she was eager to see the vamp again. Her fascination horrified her.

  Or so she wanted to believe.

  Finally, he strode into the room looking irritated and wearing prison orange. Despite the unfortunate color, he was devastatingly handsome. Darcy had seen him in luminescent green and in shadow, but bright fluorescent light revealed his eyes were a startling blue and his hair, finally dry and combed, fell in silver-blonde waves to the tops of his broad shoulders.

  Darcy cleared her throat, hoping no one had noticed her staring. “What’s the matter,” she asked him. “Not your color?”

  He shivered in disgust. “It’s vile.” He took an empty seat beside her.

  Never having been this close to a vampire without ramming a stake through its chest, Darcy’s senses were ringing all alarms.

  Joe slipped into the chair on the other side of her, his brown-eyed gaze glaring at them both.

  “Your boyfriend?” Quentin asked, his voice silky.

  “My partner,” she said, between stiff lips.

  Feeling awkward sandwiched between the two of them, Darcy was supremely aware of the silent testosterone war going on between the two men—one glowering, one smiling. Darcy straightened in her chair, blocking their staring war. Immediately, she recognized her mistake. Now, they were both looking at her.

  Another of the team, Phil Carstairs, entered carrying Darcy’s bow and quiver. “I retrieved this from the beach.” He held the crossbow in front of Quentin and sneered at him.

  Darcy murmured her thanks, accepted her gear, and laid the items on the table.

  The vampire reached past her and drew an arrow from the quiver. “Not silver?” he asked, with a single raised eyebrow while he fingered the tip.

  “I wanted to be sure it would pierce your chest,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  “You prefer an arrow to drive deep?” he asked in his sexy purring voice, his expression innocent.

  Darcy’s cheeks turned pink.

  The door of the conference room swung open and Captain Springer entered, looking strangely pleased. He approached the vampire, his hand extended. “I’m Captain Leon Springer.”

  The vamp stood and accepted the handshake. “Quentin Albermarle.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you. And I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  Darcy sat stunned. The Captain was apologizing to a vamp? She’d half expected him to ream their asses for bringing him here in the first place. She looked around the table and saw that the rest of the team was similarly shocked by their ferocious frowns.

  “You must understand our concerns,” the Captain continued, “Everyone’s a little on edge. The reports of random murders out of Seattle, and then murders following the same M.O. begin here, shortly after you arrive. My guys jumped to conclusions.”

  “Understandable, given the circumstances,” Quentin replied. His smug expression made Darcy want to plant her fist in the middle of it.

  “Can you believe this?” Joe muttered.

  “I’ve verified your story with the police there,” the Captain said. “You come highly recommended.”

  Quentin nodded and watched while the Captain took his seat at the head of the table, his crew of black-uniformed officers taking the remaining chairs.

  All were prime specimens of human males—well able to take him in a battle to the death. His gaze fell on the one exception—the woman sitting beside him. Her slender backbone was as straight as one of her deadly sharp arrows. But he knew better than to take her outthrust jaw and angry expression as anything other than a mask. Her body had melted beneath his on the beach, her ripening arousal a pungent betrayal of her hard-fought battle for composure.

  Beneath her prickly exterior beat the heart of a wanton.

  How delightful it was going to be to break through her resistance. With barely a woman’s curve evident beneath her uniform, he wasn’t fooled. Her boyishly slender hips held a subtle feminine flair that had cradled his sex nicely. The gentle curve of her taut waist had quivered when he’d stretched his body over hers. And her small, soft breasts were tipped with sensitive nipples that had pebbled to hardened points when his chest met hers.

  She didn’t know it, but her eyes had grown wide as saucers when she’d realized his cock pressed into her thigh. Without a hint of makeup, her gaze framed by dark thick lashes had betrayed her excitement. Her expressive brown eyes, glittering with heat, had also told him she was curious.

  Careful where his thoughts lingered, lest he find the need to seek out the WC again, Quentin widened his legs in the hard plastic chair and turned his attention back to the details of the outbrief.

  “Folks, I’ll admit I was skeptical when I first heard Quentin’s proposal. We’ve been fighting vampires for over four years. We see the darker side of their interaction with humans—the violence and harm they can do. We’re the ones who are called out when they step over the line.

  “But the fact is, we haven’t been doing so well in this war. And I think it’s time we rethink our strategies. Time to consider a partnership. Vampires live among us. For the most part, we can’t tell them from us.”

  “At least not until they show us their teeth,” the one who’d introduced himself as Max Weir replied angrily, his hard-eyed glare letting everyone in the room know of his objection to the offer.

  The Captain leveled a glare of his own at the large man. “I’ve considered Quentin’s offer and I accept. I think he’ll be an invaluable asset to the team while we’re hunting our killer. He has personal knowledge of this vampire and understands his habits.”

  The Captain held up a hand to quiet the murmured protests from the team. “It’ll be dawn soon. We need to get Quentin to a safe place to wait out the day, and the team needs to rest up as well.”

  “I have a place,” Quentin said, smiling. “Hers.” He nodded to the woman beside him whose face was reddening with anger.

  “Fuck no,” her partner growled.

  “That’s out of the question,” she said, her back bristling.

  “Darcy, it would solve several problems if you would.” The Captain’s ruddy complexion grew darker. “We wouldn’t have to draw attention to our ‘arrangement’ with expense reports we’d have to justify. But you needn’t worry—he checks out with Seattle PD. Seems Quentin, here, has helped on several major investigations. He’s considered a trustworthy sort.”

  “A trustworthy vampire?” The woman’s partner, Joe Garcia, snorted.

  “Having him assimilated with the team is an excellent idea, actually,” the Captain said. “Darcy, I’m assigning you and Joe to be his shadows during this investigation. In the meantime, Joe, I think you’d better stay at Darcy’s place, too. She’s got the room.”

  Quentin grinned.

  “As soon as he wakes tonight, we’ll start picking his brain. I’ll send an artist a
round to get a sketch of the vamp we’re looking for.”

  Darcy’s arms folded over her chest, her expression pure bulldog obstinance. “I don’t trust him, Captain.”

  “Well, now you can keep an eye on me,” Quentin said. “And if I step out of line, you can use one of your toothpicks to turn my black heart to dust.”

  Finally, she looked at him. “I will be watching you. Have no doubt about that.”

  “All right, then,” the Captain said. “It goes without saying that this little arrangement is strictly need to know. This is an unprecedented step the department is taking. I want it to work. Now, get out of here.”

  * * * * *

  Darcy entered her house quietly and set the bags she’d retrieved from Quentin’s hotel room on the floor. He could carry them the rest of the way to his bedroom when he woke. His bedroom. Already, the house felt alien. Invaded. As soon as she’d deposited Quentin and Joe on her front doorstep earlier, she’d hotfooted it out of the house. Retrieving his things had only been an excuse to put some distance between the vamp and her raging hormones. Why him? Why did her body come alive at just the sight of him?

  Sunshine poured into the large open space of her Florida room, and she grinned. Joe was a devious man. He’d opened every blind and shutter to ensure the vamp remained trapped behind the guest bedroom door. Joe was on the couch sleeping, a tangle of covers knotted around his waist. His chest bare. With his arms flung above his head, she had an excellent view of his washboard abs and the arrow of black hair that stretched from nipple to nipple and down below the edge of the sheet.

  Cursing herself for noticing, Darcy tiptoed past him. Her sexual libido had rotten timing. The vamp had awakened feelings she’d tamped down for three years.

  Thankful she had Joe around to save her from herself, Darcy headed to her bedroom. Inside, she stripped off her clothes and padded on bare feet into her bathroom, intent on showering away the sand she was sure had worked itself into every crevice.

  Reaching behind the shower curtain, she turned on the water. She brushed her teeth, and rummaged beneath the cabinet for the scented soap her mother had given her at Christmas. The raspberry-perfumed soap would be her secret indulgence. No matter she normally used only plain bar soap for a quick scrub. She wondered if the vampire’s keen sense of smell would detect her change of routine.

  She reached in to lift the stopper and stepped beneath the shower’s spray.

  “I thought you’d decided to find yourself another place to stay.”

  Darcy nearly screeched at Quentin’s husky whisper. She whirled and then remembered she hadn’t a stitch of clothing on. Her hands covered her breasts, but she quickly realized she had to look ridiculous. The rest of her was bare, and his hot gaze devoured every exposed inch.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, keeping her gaze glued on his face.

  “Availing myself of my hostess’s amenities?” he said, a smirk tilting one corner of his mouth.

  One glance down and she’d be toast. She was already having problems breathing after noting the way the water ran in rivulets from the ends of his hair and down his broad, hairy chest. “Well, you can just waltz right out of here and go use the guest bathroom. I’m not sharing.”

  “Your boyfriend’s made that impossible for me to do.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You’re stuck with me until dark.”

  “Not my problem. And his name’s Joe. How the hell did you get past him?”

  Quentin’s smile stretched and he shrugged.

  Darcy wished the rose-colored tile behind him would make him seem less…manly. “I’ll scream, and Joe will come running. He’ll kill you if he finds you here—and I won’t be happy to clean up the mud you leave behind.” She jerked when he reached over her shoulder for the shampoo.

  His long, muscled forearm grazed her shoulder, and Darcy held herself stiff as a statue to keep a shudder from racking her body. His large, broad frame crowded her, sucking the air from the steam-filled stall. When he calmly squeezed a glob of shampoo into his palm and raised his hands to lather his hair, her breath hitched.

  She didn’t know why she didn’t make good on her threat to scream for help, except she’d be embarrassed as hell if she were found naked with the vamp. Her reticence couldn’t have a thing to do with all that golden skin and the tufts of dark hair beneath his arms—and certainly not the cock lifting from its bed of wiry brown hair.

  Ah hell! She’d looked.

  Darcy spun away and grabbed the washcloth. Scrubbing her arms and breasts, she abraded her skin to remind herself this was a dangerous man—whom she probably shouldn’t turn her back on.

  When his soapy hands slid around her waist and pulled her back snug against his chest and abdomen, the only thought that didn’t blow her mind was that his cock rested in the crease of her ass.

  “I’ll offer you a trade,” he said, his mouth next to her ear.

  Darcy fought her body’s inclination to lean into his embrace. If she were going to be weak, she’d lay all the blame at his doorstep.

  “I need blood—about half a pint to stave off grumpiness…” He licked her ear then sucked her lobe between his teeth.

  A frisson of desire shuddered through her body, unwanted, but so strong her head fell to the side, exposing her neck.

  “… and I can give you an orgasm unlike anything you’ve ever known.”

  Mention of the “O” word tightened her belly to a hard knot. He’d stirred an ache when he’d first strode out of the waves. Nothing less than a wild fucking would do to get him out her system.

  His hands smoothed up her stomach to cup her breasts.

  Darcy tried to push his hands down. Not because she didn’t crave his touch there, but because she knew her small breasts didn’t stack up well against the globes on the woman he’d been with earlier. Her traitorous nipples constricted instantly.

  She eased her legs apart and let his cock slide between them.

  Quentin groaned and tongued her neck. All the while his hands caressed her, smoothing over her breasts, across her belly, and down to her pussy.

  Darcy swayed on her feet as pliant as a rag doll in his arms, biting her lips to keep the moans that threatened to tear from her throat. His fingers separated her labia and stroked between. Her hands reached behind to grasp his thighs, otherwise she’d have melted to the floor of the shower in a puddle.

  He licked behind her ear, then tsked. “We’ll have to do something about this sand first.”

  Again, he reached for the shampoo. When his fingers massaged her scalp, Darcy swore someone purred. His strong fingers worked in the suds and kept right on kneading and shaping. When he drew her under the water to rinse her hair, Darcy’s eyes were closed and she followed him, docile as a lamb.

  “Give me your soap,” he said.

  Her eyes slowly blinked open. “Soap?”

  “The bar you’re clutching in your hand.”

  Darcy looked down her arm and realized she still held her mother’s soap in her hand. She held it up for him.

  Leaning down, he sniffed, then took the bar. “Raspberries. My favorite. Now come here.” He drew her away from the water and sat on the ledge at the far end of the stall, pulling her to stand between his open thighs. With a twirl of his finger, he indicated that she should turn around.

  She shot one last meaningless glare, then turned away.

  He worked the lather between his hands then glided his soapy hands over her skin from shoulders to buttocks and all the sensitive points in between. When he reached her ass, Darcy’s heart beat loudly. His hands parted her buttocks and his finger trailed down the crevice. “No sand here,” he said, gravel in his voice.

  In the creases between her legs and buttocks, he found a trace of grit, so he lifted her cheeks and spent minutes soaping and smoothing to ensure not a granule was missed. By the time he’d finished, Darcy’s legs wobbled and she was ready to scream.

  When he turned her to wash her front, Darc
y’s gaze fell on his face. His nose was flared, his cheeks reddened and the smirk was now a tight line of tension. Gratified he was every bit as overcome with desire as she was, Darcy gave herself over to his touch. Just this once.

  He lathered his hands and reached for her breasts. Already tight and puckered, her nipples caught the soap bubbles he smoothed there. His large hands dwarfed her breasts, but despite her earlier doubts, he played with them, apparently fascinated.

  His fingers rolled her nipples, tugged and squeezed until they stretched, engorged. She nearly protested when he left them to glide his hands down her belly. He swirled a finger inside her belly button and Darcy’s abdomen jumped and quivered, her legs once again turning to jelly. Then he reached lower.

  She parted her legs to make room for his hands and he swept them between, rubbing over her outer labia, then parted them to finger her tender inner lips.

  Darcy reached for his shoulders to steady herself, then leaned to rest her head on his shoulder as his fingers rimmed her cunt, circling, rubbing. He found her clitoris and plucked it. “Lift your leg over mine,” he said.

  He didn’t want mere compliance—he demanded her knowing participation. Darcy was beyond any pretense of defiance. She lifted one leg and draped it over his. The space between her legs was wide open for his marauding fingers to explore. Her nails bit into his shoulders.

  Looking down the space between their bodies, Darcy’s breath grew shallow and raspy. Their differences, human to vampire, weren’t important now. How their bodies complimented each other’s, feminine to masculine, assumed precedence. Something deep inside her soft core yearned to yield to his mastery.

  His erection stood straight up, veins crisscrossing beneath golden skin tinged with red. The wide, plump head looked soft and purplish. She couldn’t resist smoothing a fingertip over it.

  “No touching. Not yet,” he said, his words clipped.

  He rolled the bar of soap between his palms working up lather, then set it aside. When his hands descended to her crotch, Darcy closed her eyes and let her head fall back.