Truly, Madly...Werely (Night Fall Book 9)

by Delilah Devlin

  “What choice do I have?” he asked, all his raw anguish there for the room to see.

  Emmy shook her head. “Do you think she’ll be any happier knowing you thought you had to do this? She loves you.”

  “And your relationship is entirely monogamous?”

  “I don’t cheat Dylan. He’s always there to watch.”

  Quentin snorted. “Call it what you want. I will move heaven and earth to save her.”

  “You never mentioned hell…” Dylan’s face was set, his posture rigid.

  Kamaria chuckled and arched one brow. “You shouldn’t be so hard on Quen-tin. He resisted. But my will is stronger.” Her smile slipped away, replaced by a sinister sneer. “As you shall soon discover.”

  Quentin gave Kamaria a fierce glare. “Leave them out of this.”

  “They trespassed on my home. Why should I show mercy?”

  “Because you don’t care about them. Only about me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I care about Adrian…” she said, a sly glint in her eye.

  As though she’d conjured him, Adrian cleared his throat, announcing his presence.

  All gazes turned to eye the tall, dark stranger. “Mistress,” he said softly. “Will you be returning to bed, or are you ready to begin?”

  “Since we are all here, there’s no reason to wait. Please take seats around the bed. Adrian, take our guest’s weapon.”

  Dylan’s hand slipped behind his back, but he stiffened instantly, his breath catching.

  Kamaria stared, her eyes narrowing, then she lifted her hand and curled her fingers. The gun Dylan had hidden behind him flew across the room. “Don’t defy me. You’ll regret it.”

  Emmy’s breath hitched, and she stepped forward. “We’ll go with you. Enter her dreams. Tell us what we have to do.”

  While Adrian retrieved the weapon, Kamaria strolled toward the end of the bed. “The candles, Quen-tin. You know how it must be.”

  Quentin exhaled and felt his body tremble with relief. He gathered up the candles he’d swept to the floor and returned them to the bed, placing them on their plates at Darcy’s hands and feet and head. Then he lit them and stood back.

  The room darkened instantly.

  “Stand beside the bed,” Kamaria said. “Place your hands on her body then close your eyes.”

  Emmy moved immediately, laying her palm on Darcy’s shoulder.

  Dylan glared at Quentin, but touched Darcy’s thigh. “If she awakens first…”

  One side of Quentin’s mouth lifted. “Afraid?”

  Dylan grunted. “Of course. You should be too.”

  Quentin let him see the bleakness that had haunted him. “I’ve been terrified since the moment I heard her screams.”

  Dylan’s expression softened. “I do understand, you know. If it were Em, I’d fight for every last one of her breaths, but I’d expect you, as my friend, to do the right thing.”

  “You are. You’re here. Keep an open mind.”

  With a sharp nod, Dylan closed his eyes.

  Quentin gave Kamaria one last glance, pleading silently for her help.

  Kamaria’s lips twisted. “The things I would do for you…”

  “Just keep your promise,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll keep mine.”

  He closed his eyes, and just as quickly, was swept upward. This time he didn’t need the drugs to relax him and didn’t fear the journey. Rising through the roof of her villa then slipping upward toward the full moon, he felt free. For a long moment, he was suspended in the sky, and then he began the crazy fall toward the blending grays until he saw the woods and the clearing beneath him. He landed on his feet and began to run.

  Behind him, he heard Dylan calling to Emmy and her breathless reply. “I’m here. Don’t let him out of your sight!”

  A howl ripped through the night, and his heart kicked into high gear. God, was he too late? But he then he broke through the forest and into the clearing and saw the pale figure sitting on the bench. Before the others reached her, he was already on his knees beside her, capturing her hand in his—his face exposed this time.

  Darcy’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened, and she reached a shaking hand toward his cheek. “Quentin,” she whispered.

  Chapter Eight

  ‡

  Darcy stared hard at Quentin’s beloved face, drinking in the familiar lines and planes, noting the creases etched deep around his mouth that hadn’t been there before.

  She began to smile, but footsteps racing toward her made her back stiffen. At last, she tore her gaze from Quentin’s face and watched as Emmy raced toward her, her long blonde hair floating behind her, with Dylan’s burly body on her heels.

  Dylan’s grim expression sparked a memory that she shoved back, but she remembered them all—Quentin, Emmy, Dylan. Remembered another place with long white beaches and a sky so blue and free of clawing branches that once upon a time she’d felt happy.

  “Darcy?” Emmy whispered, out of breath.

  Darcy turned to Quentin again. “Why are we all here?”

  “Do you know where you are, love?” Quentin asked softly, squeezing her hand.

  She tried to concentrate, but beyond the three people standing within her sight, and the fact they shared a friendship, a deep love for one another, she couldn’t remember much else. “I don’t know.”

  Quentin’s hand tugged her to her feet, and he pulled her against his chest. The broad expanse, so tense and solid, should have made her feel safe. Instead, a deep uneasy tension flooded her.

  “Relax. We have you now.”

  She shook her head. “Something’s wrong.”

  “What is this place, Dylan?” Emmy asked, her voice small and tight.

  “It’s her dream world.” Quentin’s deep tone rumbled beneath her ear, but the sound still didn’t soothe.

  “No, it’s not,” Dylan said flatly. “This is purgatory. A step away from hell.”

  “This is where her mind drifts,” Quentin said, his words hardening. “This is the place she feels safe from her nightmares.”

  “Do you feel safe, Darcy?” Emmy asked, closer this time.

  Quentin’s arms tightened around her, as though shielding her from Emmy. But why? Weren’t they all friends?

  A howl ripped through the darkness, and Darcy pushed away from Quentin’s chest. The urge to run toward the sound was strong, mesmerizing.

  Quentin’s hand clamped around her arm. “Ignore it.”

  “Can’t…”

  “Why should she ignore it?”

  Darcy didn’t know this voice. Female. Strong. An edge of menace. She turned to find a woman standing behind her. Tall, slender—so dark the shadows around them seemed to collect in her skin. She shook back her long black hair and stepped closer. Her teeth flashed white.

  Darcy tried to back away, but Quentin’s arms pulled her closer again.

  “Your promise, Kamaria,” Quentin said.

  “In time. Have patience, husss-band.”

  She sounded like a snake.

  “Husband?” Darcy shook free from Quentin’s hold and turned.

  His jaw clenched tight as his gaze lifted to the other woman. “Not my wife, Darcy. You are my wife, my love.”

  “And yet, you know her? How?”

  His gaze dragged slowly down to her again. “I told you about her once. A long time ago. The woman who made me what I am.”

  “What you are?” She felt stupid, as though her mind sifted through sand. Memories lingered just out of reach. Painful. Ugly.

  Something he’d done was ugly.

  The wolf howled again, this time closer, more insistent. Darcy’s body shuddered in response. She swung toward Emmy and Dylan, and then turned to the woman whose smile stretched wide, teeth gleaming like sharpening fangs.

  Darcy’s body convulsed, and she gasped, her hand clutching her belly. She stared down at herself, at her empty belly. And she knew.

  The wolf. The searing pain. Her blood flowing out to soa
k the ground beneath her. Quentin’s anguished howls. Pain so intense, she wished herself dead. Her body ravaged…a baby torn from her flesh and crying.

  Her baby…

  Quentin knew the moment she remembered it all. Her gaze fell to the hand pressing against her stomach then crawled back up to lock with his.

  “You did nothing,” she whispered.

  A muscle alongside his jaw rippled. “I saved you.”

  “My child…”

  “Already lost when I found you,” he ground out.

  Darcy stared, memories swamping her. The thin, warbling cry of her child fading as the wolf loped out of the room where she lay bleeding. “Carried off in the mouth of wolf. Alive, Quentin—Alive!”

  His eyes squeezed shut. His head tilting toward his chest, he clenched his hands at his sides.

  The woman he’d called Kamaria laughed. “Quen-tin makes terrible choices. I know. What will it be, Darcy? Will you stay here? Do you want to run with the wolf?”

  Another howl. Closer. At the edge of the trees.

  She turned from Quentin, from the group standing, staring at her, giving them her back. She sought out the creature, found it, standing at the edge of the dark woods, its golden gaze glowing against a dark, furred face.

  Another convulsion racked her, and she bent, doubled over, pain tearing at her belly.

  Her hands curved, and she stared as hair sprouted on her knuckles and her fingers shortened, her nails lengthening, sharpening. She fell to the ground, her back arching as agony ripped through her bones. They cracked and broke, reshaping her body. Her knees and elbows bent back, locking into a new position. Her white shroud floated down, and suddenly, she shook herself, felt bristles wave on her back and flanks. She cringed as her mouth widened and stretched, and her teeth slid from her gums.

  A quick, sharp bite clacked them together, and she shook her head and turned toward Quentin whose features contorted in horror.

  “Darcy, no love. Don’t give in.”

  The wolf at the forest’s edge whimpered.

  Her ears quirked toward the sound. Then she drew in a long breath through her snout, breathing in the scents of resin and sweat…and fear.

  Footsteps rushed toward her, but she spun on all fours and faced Dylan whose hand was raised. A revolver materialized, clasped in his grip, pointed at her.

  “Don’t, Dylan,” Quentin shouted, leaping toward him and shoving Dylan’s hand upward.

  A shot rang out, and Darcy bolted, heading toward the trees and the lone wolf waiting for her. The male spun and raced deeper into the dark tangle of forest, and she followed on his heels, moving swiftly, her body freed of pain, her mind letting go of the jagged memories of her past.

  Then she heard Kamaria’s laughter filtering through the night, rising higher until it shrieked—triumphant, gloating.

  Darcy paused and looked behind her. Quentin’s tall figure crashed through the trees, but before he reached her, vines shot up from the ground and wound around his legs, pulling him down. He reached a hand toward her, raised his face.

  Blue shards of light glinted from his eyes, softened quickly by the tears spilling down his cheeks.

  Darcy felt a moment’s sympathy. A last regret. He’d changed her. Tried to save her. Sacrificed the child he’d never really accepted even though he’d known she’d hate him forever.

  The wolf beside her nipped at her flanks, his breaths short, his whimpers eager for her to join him.

  Dylan and Emmy crashed through the clearing, halting as they spotted Quentin then lifting their gazes to her. Dylan’s hand came up again, still gripping the gun. Darcy held perfectly still. Let him end this, she thought. Let him take me now.

  No more pain.

  “Dylan, please don’t,” Quentin begged.

  “She wants this. You know she does.”

  “She’s alive. She’s sentient. Let her speak her will.” Quentin’s face swung toward her again.

  Darcy stared at him, lying on the ground, trapped by the vines, his expression pleading not for his own freedom, but for her to respond.

  She didn’t want to. Wanted to hold on to her fury, her hurt. But his pain, so palpable…reached her. Although not ready to forgive him for his terrible choice, she couldn’t close herself off from him.

  No sooner had the thought formed that she couldn’t hurt him, then her body transformed. Standing on two legs now, she straightened her spine. “I don’t know how I feel about you, Quentin. But there’s something you can do. Something you owe me. I’ll come back to you, but you must promise to help me.”

  “Anything,” he sobbed.

  “Find my child.”

  He swallowed, and more tears leaked from his eyes. “Your child is dead.”

  “He’s not, you know.” The sly voice sounded from behind her, and Darcy turned her head to watch Kamaria—Quentin’s witch—she remembered the story he’d told her once. The woman he’d sworn he’d never forgive, never wanted to see again.

  But here she was. And she would help—if Quentin asked her.

  “You know this for a fact?” Darcy asked, her words clipped.

  “I’ve seen him, your baby boy.”

  A son? Her heart melted at the thought of a small boy with Joe’s dark coloring and eyes. “He lives?”

  “He’s like you,” Kamaria said, the corners of her full mouth curling—but the smile never reaching her eyes.

  “Do you even know what you are?” Dylan choked out.

  Darcy rounded on Dylan. “What I am? What do you mean?”

  “Do you remember what happened?”

  She nodded slowly. “Everything. I remember it all.”

  “Then you know you have vampire and were mixed in your blood. Your humanity isn’t…sustainable.”

  “Not sustainable…?” Darcy asked. “How do you know?”

  “It’s happened before. Long ago.”

  “Then you witnessed this person becoming a monster?”

  A shadow of doubt crossed Dylan’s face, deepening his frown. “No, but I’ve heard the tale. You will have the power of a vamp, the ferocity of a were. Your nature will be vicious, murderous.”

  Darcy shook her head. Even though she’d seen the proof herself, having succumbed to the pull of the moon and the lone wolf, she’d been the one to pull back at the last moment. She had control. “But I’m still me…”

  “You’re not in the real world here, Darcy,” Dylan said. “Here, the first time you were faced with a painful situation, you transformed and ran. What will happen when you’re back among humans? You will turn and savage them.”

  “Is that why you’re here? To destroy me?”

  “I’m here to make sure you stay asleep, Darcy.”

  “And my child?” Dylan’s bleak expression had her shaking her head.

  “If he lives, he too will be destroyed.”

  Her glance went to Emmy, her best friend. “You’d let him do this?”

  Emmy shook her head, but her gaze went to Dylan, the tears glossing her eyes at war with the tightening of her lips. Emmy wasn’t sure.

  Darcy felt her stomach sink as she gazed again at Quentin, whose ravaged face seemed every bit as uncertain. Was she truly alone in this?

  Kamaria’s low, throaty laughter pulled her attention. The woman’s watchful, smoldering expression raised hackles, but she was Darcy’s only hope.

  “Please,” Darcy whispered.

  The dark witch nodded. “I will take you from here. Restore you to your body, my promise to Quen-tin met. I’ll hold them here until you’re gone.”

  “I’m going with her,” Quentin gritted out.

  Kamaria’s gaze never left Darcy, but her eyelids dropped. “You owe me, lover.”

  “Kamaria, no. She needs me with her.”

  “She must find her own way. Learn to keep her beast leashed. If you try to govern her, you will die. Is this what you want, Darcy? To leave now? Alone?”

  Darcy swallowed to wet her dry mouth. “I want to be freed.
To wake up and find my child.”

  “Darcy, wait for me,” Quentin pleaded.

  Wait for what? At Kamaria’s sly smile, Darcy thought she knew. Quentin sleeping with this woman made her feel ill. “You will have to follow,” she rasped, unable to continue looking at him. “Keep them here, Kamaria, until I’m gone.”

  The witch nodded again then stepped toward Darcy, her hands coming up to cup her cheeks. She leaned so close Darcy felt her warm breath against her mouth, smelled her minty scent. “Close your eyes, little wolf. Close them and follow me.”

  Kamaria’s warm, wet mouth kissed hers, suctioning. Taking her breath and her mind. Then Darcy was rising above the trees, spinning in the air, her hair swinging around her shoulders.

  When next she drew a breath, her eyes popped open, and she was lying in a bed, her hands and feet bound in chains, candles glowing all around her. Quentin, Emmy, and Dylan ringed the bed, swaying on their feet, their eyes closed as though in a trance.

  Kamaria stood at the end of the bed and nodded to a tall, darkly handsome man standing beside her. “Free her.” To Darcy, she said, “He will clothe you and get you aboard a plane tonight. You must travel in darkness now. You know that, yes?”

  “I’m part vampire. I can’t travel in sunshine even though I’m part were as well?”

  “I’m not sure,” Kamaria said, her eyebrows rising. “But it’s best you not learn the truth when standing in sunlight.”

  “I’ll need cash. Hell, do I need a passport? I don’t even know where I am.”

  “All are in Quentin’s room. Adrian will get them for you. Go with him now. You haven’t long. The three of them are arguing.” Her lips tipped upward at the corners.

  And although Darcy didn’t trust her, didn’t like her one bit, the two women shared a fleeting smile.

  Then Adrian touched her elbow, and Darcy followed him out of the room.

  Chapter Nine

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  Quentin opened his eyes, and his gaze slammed into Dylan’s. Both of them glanced downward. The bed where Darcy had rested was empty. Kamaria and her manservant were also gone.

  Quentin backed away a step then ran for the door, determined to find Darcy before Dylan had a chance to finish her.