The Vampire's Bride--A Paranormal Romance Novel

by Gena Showalter

“Yes.”

  Passion flowed through him, suddenly his only reason for living. He allowed all of his weight to settle atop her as he crawled down, inch by tantalizing inch. His tongue flicked over and laved her beaded nipple.

  More…more…had never been like this. Had to have more.

  “Don’t stop. Never thought…so good.”

  “I’ll stop if I decide to stop.” The power was getting to him, urging him on, demanding he take more. “Understand.”

  “Please. More. Almost there…”

  His hand delved under her tiny skirt, past the thin barrier of cloth between her legs. She was hot, wet. So wet. So tight. He experienced a surge of possessiveness as he thrust a finger deep—and she screamed, loud and long, piercing and sweet. Her inner muscles clenched around him, taking the ultimate pleasure.

  More…more…yes, had to have more.

  “Layel, Layel.”

  He surged up, teeth exposed, ready to take her blood while his cock took her body. But he had to release her to free his cock, and he couldn’t force himself to release her. A moment later, the dilemma was taken from him. Strong hands settled atop his shoulders and jerked him away from Delilah.

  “Bastard!” he heard.

  Layel hissed in fury and launched himself at this new opponent. He needed Delilah. No one took her away from him. He was charged with so much passion—rage, dark rage, kiss, more kiss—it was like lava inside of him.

  Tagart was knocked to the ground. Layel was there in the next instant, sinking his fangs into the dragon’s vein. Blood filled his mouth, as hot as fire. Familiar.

  More Delilah. More, his mind screamed. Kill the dragon, return to Delilah.

  The warrior slammed a fist into his jaw, and he was propelled sideways. He was on his feet an instant later, warm blood dripping from his face. One step, two, he stalked, a predator locked on his prey.

  Delilah stepped in front of him, panting, cheeks rosy from her climax. She didn’t bother to cover her beautiful breasts as she held out her hands to ward him off. “Layel,” she said, concerned. “Calm down. You have to calm down.”

  Not Susan, his mind suddenly shouted. She’s not Susan. She had no right to be concerned for him. She had no right to kiss or touch him. He had no right to kiss and touch her in return. To drink from her, to rejoice in her pleasure.

  The fire in his veins died swiftly, no longer even crackling. Leaving only ache and regret. He stilled, doing his best to catch his breath, as shame coursed through him.

  Tagart stood in place, his expression gleaming with fury. “Come near her again, and I will not hesitate to kill you.”

  “Do not hesitate now, fire-bastard.”

  The dragon bent his knees to leap, but Delilah shook her head at him and he stilled.

  “He wasn’t hurting me,” she said.

  Tagart looked from Delilah to Layel, Layel to Delilah. “But you screamed.”

  “In pleasure,” she admitted, bright stains of mortification climbing her cheeks.

  Understanding lit his eyes, and Tagart scowled.

  “Don’t worry,” Layel said, his tone colder than he had ever heard it. “I will never again approach her. She is yours.” With that, he sprinted away as fast as his feet would carry him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A GONG SOUNDED throughout the deceptively tranquil night, followed by the echo of a whisper. Beach…

  Delilah almost groaned. No. Not now. Not yet. Layel had just finished kissing her. During that kiss, the world around her had faded, shattering everything she’d ever known, before another anchor had taken over: his tongue, his touch. Him. And then he had walked away from her, leaving her alone with the dragon. No, he hadn’t walked. He’d run as if demons were devouring his skin. Leaving her half-naked, aching, wanting. Confused. He hadn’t looked back.

  He’d left her just as Vorik had left her.

  Hands shaking, she bent down and gathered what was left of her top. She hastily pulled it around her, tying it in the center—which shoved her breasts together. Wonderful. If she ran, they would bounce. Perhaps, though, Layel would like that. Silly girl.

  Tagart didn’t turn away while she dressed. He watched her the entire time through slitted lids, golden eyes bright. Bastard. “The vampire king doesn’t truly want you,” he said.

  She could have sliced his head from his body for that, for voicing what she feared most. The vampire king doesn’t truly want you. Layel had left her and sworn never to come near her again, lending truth to Tagart’s claim. But…that passion could not have been forced. More than that, Layel had fought the dragon like a man possessed. For her. She knew it had been for her.

  Please let it have been for her.

  When she failed to respond, Tagart sighed. “You know very well that Layel is the enemy. Our enemy, not just mine, right now.”

  Yes, she knew that. It just hadn’t mattered. She could have claimed her actions had been for the good of the team. A kiss to soften, weaken the vampire. The boast wouldn’t leave her tongue, however. She’d finally discovered magic in the arms of a man. She had no desire to taint that memory.

  But damn him, she had never felt so raw. What had happened with Layel…what she’d experienced in the vampire’s arms…it had been a possession. For that brief time, she had been the most important thing in his life—and she would have betrayed her tribe, not to mention her team, for him. Would have followed him anywhere, would have begged him for forever.

  He had given her pleasure, wildness, freedom to simply experience. She’d climaxed around his fingers, his mouth on her nipple. She’d felt the rasp of his sharp teeth, but he hadn’t broken her skin—something she should have been happy about, yet she would have willingly given him all the blood in her body, if only she could remain in his embrace.

  In that moment, he’d had absolute power over her. Far from angering her as that should have, she reveled in the knowledge. I could not have stopped him. Could not have escaped. She shivered in remembered bliss. She had been his captive, had worried about nothing and reveled in the knowledge that she was safe, protected, cherished, and could give herself over completely without any type of rejection. With Vorik, she’d never lost her inhibitions and simply gone wild in his arms. She had worried about everything. Am I doing this right? Does he like this? Should I do more?

  “Have you no reply, Amazon?”

  “I know he is our enemy,” was all she said.

  “I expected better of you. A fierce fighter. The very woman who tossed me aside during battle only one day ago.”

  She blinked up at him in surprise. There had been so many opponents, she couldn’t summon the image of a single dragon face. “We fought?”

  He threw his hands up in disgust. “I’m so insignificant, you do not even remember.”

  “Fight harder next time,” she suggested helpfully.

  Far from being appreciative, he snarled at her in fury. “More and more, I am unsure as to why I’m concerning myself with you. Perhaps you and the vampire have been in league since the beginning. He did join you on the battlefield and every time I see you, you are near him. Or watching him. Is he paying you to topple your own team? A climax for every loss?”

  She balled her fist and punched him, moving so quickly he had no time to protect himself. Her knuckles slammed into his nose, snapping it. He howled in pain, in outrage. He even stepped toward her, as though he meant to return her blow with one of his own. But he didn’t.

  He glared at her, blood dripping down his chin. “Do that again and you will regret it.”

  “The dragons incurred the wrath of the Amazons when they bound one of our sisters.” Lily. Poor, sweet Lily. How was she doing? Delilah pushed the worry from her mind. It was either that, or break down. “That we are teammates is the only reason you are still alive. And now that the gods’ ridiculous game is beginning, let’s see how long you stay that way.” She blew him an unconcerned kiss, not surprised to see the puncture wounds on his neck were weaving back together and h
is nose was snapping back into place.

  Dragons and vampires were swift healers. Unfortunately, Amazons were not. When it came to injury, they were as susceptible as humans. Recovery from a broken bone could take weeks, sometimes months. That was one of the reasons they trained so rigorously. Preventing injuries was necessary for survival.

  Without another word, she leapt into motion. The gong sounded again. What would happen if she ignored it? Another blast of water in her face? Probably. Her steps increased in speed, and soon she passed a centaur.

  What would the first challenge be? Sword fights? Hand-to-hand combat?

  A naked branch slapped her cheek, and she reached up to rub the fresh wound. That’s when she realized that she was still trembling from Layel’s kiss. She was still hot, still achy. Tagart hadn’t calmed her, the summons hadn’t calmed her. By Kreja’s Ax, the climax hadn’t calmed her.

  Worse, she knew that if Layel had been near her, if he’d shown the slightest bit of eagerness, she would have fallen right back into his arms. Anything to have all of his strength wrapped around her, under her palms, hers to lick.

  Damn Tagart for interrupting! one part of her cursed.

  Praise the gods he interrupted! the other part rejoiced.

  Consorting with the enemy simply for pleasure—ridiculous! And utterly against Amazon code. Now she most likely had to face the vampire king on the battlefield. Again. She stiffened her spine and drew on every ounce of resolve she possessed. Angry as he was, he might try and hurt her first.

  If it came to that, she would have to cut him down.

  She broke through the foliage and at last reached the glistening sand. Moonlight, such lovely moonlight, bathed the island in amber mist. Waves danced without a care, spraying droplets onto the shore with delightful abandon.

  Several of the creatures already waited in front of her, and her eyes widened as she spotted the long, winding…thing in front of them. Made of wood, it stretched across the water. Multiple spiked bars swung from both sides. Whoosh. Whiz. Whoosh. There were holes carved into the bottom planks.

  Anyone who walked the length of it would either be pummeled by the spikes or dropped into the ocean—where sharks already circled as though they sensed a tasty snack lingered nearby. And if she wasn’t mistaken, mer-warriors were also in the water, spears raised, teeth gleaming as they smiled.

  Confused, Delilah stalked beside…She searched her mind but could not remember the minotaur’s name, even though he was on her team. He was tall, fur covering every inch of his bull face and humanlike body. Saber-teeth protruded from his lips down to his chin. Two horns rose on each side of his head in place of ears.

  She’d invaded a minotaur camp once. The bull-men hadn’t had a king in centuries, but one had risen among their ranks and tried to take the reins of power. To prove himself strong and unafraid, the foolish creature had insulted nearly every king and queen in Atlantis.

  Kreja, Amazon queen then and now, had decided to teach him the error of his ways and ordered Delilah to lead the army into battle. Delilah had chosen a sneak attack as she considered the weaker race unworthy of a full-on clash. During a rainstorm, she’d infiltrated their midst and simply cut the limbs from the bastard’s body.

  The next day, she’d delivered each of those limbs to a few of the kings and queens he had insulted. She wondered how Layel would have reacted to the gift, had he been among the recipients.

  “What is that?” she asked the minotaur now, nodding at the monstrosity up ahead.

  He turned his head and eyed her from top to bottom. Searching for weapons, most likely. She fluttered her lashes at him, projecting, I’m harmless. You have nothing to fear. If Tagart’s accusations reached her teammates, they would most likely try and slay her in her sleep. They would believe him, too, because she had left their meeting so abruptly.

  Gods, she was going to have to win their loyalty.

  Slowly the bull-man relaxed. “I believe it’s called a gauntlet. My mother used to tell me stories about brave warriors who attempted to defeat such things.”

  Gauntlet…the word played through her mind, finally snapping into place. Bedtime stories told of courageous soldiers forced to run the entire length to prove their valor. Trepidation bubbled in her chest, followed quickly by excitement. Danger always had that effect. Half of her hated it while the other half thrived on it.

  Perhaps she had always been a woman divided. Perhaps she could not lay her dueling needs to conquer and be conquered at Layel’s feet.

  As if her thoughts had summoned him, a gliding black slash appeared down the beach. Layel had arrived. Her stomach quivered, and her knees weakened. Moisture flooded between her legs. Gods. He wasn’t near her, yet she could almost feel his fingers inside her, pumping her to satisfaction.

  His effect was even more potent than the thought of danger, for there was not a single part of her that hated it. Come to me, she projected. He didn’t. And all of her willpower was required to remain in place—or, at the very least, not motion him over.

  Should she call out to him? One glance at his eyes, that was all she needed. Hopefully, he had calmed, those invisible demons forgotten.

  In the end, she didn’t have to do anything. He faced her, a quick meeting of gazes before looking away. Usually he appeared cold, withdrawn. Sometimes, like a little while ago, feral. But now the hate had returned. Oh, had the hate returned. The heat and force of it was blinding.

  Why?

  She scoured her mind but couldn’t recall anything she might have done to offend him. Could he, like her, be battling conflicting desires? She’d wondered before, but never had the possibility seemed more likely.

  She knew why she did so. She wanted to be both woman and warrior, respected by her sisters and loved by a man. What was his reasoning?

  “If you cause us to fail,” Tagart said, suddenly at her side and blocking Layel from her sights, “I will kill you myself. Doubt me not.”

  She went rigid. In the past, no one would have been able to sneak up on her. Damn Layel and his strange pull on her! “Perhaps you haven’t realized that your threats mean nothing to me.”

  Nola approached her other side, and Delilah turned away from the dragon. An insult, she knew. As if he were so insignificant he did not bear watching. She kept her ears tuned to him, though, in case he decided to strike.

  He growled low in his throat, but never moved for attack.

  “This cannot end well,” Nola muttered. Strands of her dark hair brushed her cheek and whipped over her eyes. “I hate that we have been separated. My team leaves much to be desired.”

  Though they had never been close, Delilah’s loyalty belonged to those of her own race. Do not forget. “No matter what we are ordered to do, I will not betray or hurt you. You have my word.”

  Nola’s gaze fixed on the gauntlet. “I want to believe you. I do. But—”

  “No. No god is going to change my allegiance.”

  “I cannot believe this is really happening. I want to go home. I want to hold Lily. I want my life back, riotous as it was.”

  “Everyone here wants to return to Atlantis, but we can’t. So you’re going to put those things out of your mind and concentrate on the task at hand. That’s an order. It’s the only way to ensure your survival.”

  Nola bristled, but a moment passed and she gave another nod. “All right. Yes.”

  Delilah’s relief was short-lived.

  “The time has come.”

  The god-voice came suddenly, without warning, and Delilah’s already stiff body gave a jerk. This voice sounded different, deeper than the one yesterday had been, raspier than the one before. A third god? She faced the ocean, where the air and water beside the gauntlet mixed, thickening and dappling and already taking the shape of a man. Again, no face was visible.

  “Citizens of Atlantis,” came the voice again. “We hope that you have had sufficient time to prepare for this first test of your mettle. If not, you are not the warriors we thought you
were and we will be highly disappointed.”

  Thunder suddenly boomed in the sky. A second later, dark clouds formed above the warriors and the gauntlet, and fat droplets of rain fell over the group in a hard pelting. Delilah didn’t bother to wipe the water from her face; she wouldn’t give the god the satisfaction.

  “In life, as in this game, there are many obstacles. One wrong move and you could be destroyed. Remember that…”

  Lightning streaked brightly, illuminating the god for a split second. Underneath the mask of water, Delilah thought she saw the visage of a gloriously handsome man. Eyes of bright blue, hair of honeyed silk. Perfect lips curved into a perfect smile of delight.

  “Line up,” he commanded. The rain mixed with ice, beating against them, bruising.

  At first, no one moved. Were they, like her, disgusted by this god’s behavior? What would happen if they continued to refuse?

  Unwilling to find out, they finally trudged up three separate tiers one by one. Soon they stood on a flat platform. There were two identical paths in front of the scaffold, each leading to identical treachery. She was shivering, cold misting with her every breath, as she studied the gauntlet from this new angle. How had she gotten to this point? She might have devoted her life to mastering the art of combat, but never had she imagined being involved in something as sinister as this.

  Tagart elbowed Delilah out of the way and claimed the first position for their team. She thought about protesting, then shrugged. Let him lead. He could be the first to fall, the first to be pushed.

  In the other line, Brand assumed the lead and Layel floated to the space right behind him. His arm brushed hers, a slow stroke of fire. Unintentional? And why was he warm? He was usually as cold as the ice now falling from the sky. Don’t look at him, don’t you dare look at him. He would distract her, perhaps destroy her resolve.

  “A successful team player will work to ensure that all members walk away from a battle, not just himself,” the god said. “I suggest you use whatever means necessary to buoy your team along, for every one of you must reach the end.” A crack of thunder boomed, and the god cleared his throat. “The first team to reach the end wins. Not only will you bask in the glow of our approval, but as a reward for your efforts, we will gift you with something you surely crave even more than another tomorrow. A glimpse of your home, your loved ones.”