White Hot Holidays 10: Silent Knight

by Delilah Devlin

  He trembled behind her, holding himself back. She knew he waited for her to release him, give him a sign he could unleash the frightening power that radiated and vibrated from deep inside him.

  Noelle drew a deep breath, and gripping the back of the sofa bed, she relaxed, letting the fullness ease, letting her desire liquefy to accept the deeper, more powerful strokes she knew he’d banked.

  A sound, an inhuman moan like a demon squeezing from his throat, rumbled through his chest and he moved, slamming his hips into hers, tunneling his cock deeper—deeper still, until she was sure he’d breach her womb.

  He hammered into her, sharp, hard strokes building a friction inside her channel that burned like fire.

  Her cunt squeezed and caressed his length, moistening, drenching, boiling in the flames, building higher still between his thick cock and her rippling, inner walls. Her thighs and belly shook so hard, if not for the hands bracing her ass for his relentless assault she’d have crumpled to the bed.

  His face nuzzled her neck and she leaned away to give him access. With his cock thrusting deep, he plied her neck with licks and nips, producing a shiver that pricked all the way down her spine. One nip pinched her skin, but the pain was momentary and arousing. The rush that followed—of blood drawing toward his mouth, of heat that spiked her nipples tighter—hurtled her higher toward release.

  A litany of groans poured from her throat—raw, savage whimpers that grew slowly in volume and pitch as she writhed on his cock, mindless now as her body, quivering and gasping, closed her mind to everything except the stunning agony that tightened her body, squeezing the breath from her lungs.

  Then he roared, so loud the sound ripped through her, hurtling her faster toward a dark void. He thrust in rapid short strokes, burying his huge cock hilt deep into her cunt, striking the spark that burst into a fire burst of light and propelled her outside of herself and into the blissful void.

  The moment she fainted, Magnus sat back on his haunches and hugged her body close, continuing to draw deeply from the tiny piercings he’d made on her soft, fragrant neck. Her blood pulsed hot onto his tongue, the tempo slowing as her heart calmed.

  While he drew life from her, his mind cleared and the beast retreated, leaving Magnus feeling unclean, his soul violated after relinquishing part of his control to the demon inside.

  At least Noelle hadn’t seen the horrible mask of the monster who’d fucked her sweet body. He’d hurt her, pushed her beyond her limits and still she’d given more.

  He cupped a soft breast, memorizing its texture and weight. He flicked the still-turgid nipple and measured the length of the stem so he wouldn’t forget. Soon, she’d waken and he’d fulfill his vow to take her memories of their encounter.

  As his appetite grew sated, he sucked softly, prolonging the connection that was as intimate as the cock penetrating her warm body. She fed his body, his soul. Her pussy still caressed him, even in sleep, the slowing ripples milking his shaft.

  He worried about her and decided to press her once more to leave New Orleans. He’d offer the suggestion while he emptied her mind of him and their long night together. Then he’d leave her and wait until the coming morning to greet the dawn.

  Noelle stirred, waking to the gentle lap of Magnus’ tongue on her neck. She sighed and straightened and then realized his generous cock was still embedded deep inside her body.

  She gave him a sexy squeeze with her inner muscles and moaned at the resulting ache. “Mmmm…I think you’d better stay there or you’ll never get back inside.”

  Are you sore?

  She gave a disbelieving snort. “What do you think?”

  I’m sorry.

  “I’m not.”

  The hand cupping her breast gave it a gentle caress. Are you ready?

  Her heart leapt to the back of her throat, threatening to choke her. “Must it be now?”

  You’re relaxed and tired. Your resistance will be low.

  “Will I ever see you again?” she asked, hating the tears that filled her eyes and the thick sound of her voice.

  No. It’s better this way.

  “Will I know you if I ever see you again?”

  I’ll be a stranger—just one among many. You won’t remember.

  She couldn’t help the tear that raced down her cheek and plopped onto the hand covering her breast, any more than she could help asking one more thing. “Can I look at you one last time?”

  His sigh stirred her hair. He opened his arms. Turn around.

  Noelle rose from his lap, missing the connection as soon as his cock slipped from inside her body, and turned to kneel in front of him.

  His expression was shuttered, painfully blank.

  “I don’t like this,” she said, determined not to beg. She didn’t know whether he still intended to kill himself. Who would save him now? “Do we have to end it this way?”

  He dragged in a deep breath and looked toward the ceiling, the motion revealing a world of pain and regret.

  She lay her palm alongside his cheek and reached, closing her eyes to see inside and know, just for this moment, the source of his pain.

  Magnus ran through the darkness toward a stone crypt strewn with garbage and weeds, standing among the ghostly white bones of many raised crypts and headstones in the darkened graveyard. A small, dark figure stood beside it, its shape human-like but with a black aura that shimmered around it like a billowing cloud. It tilted up the lid to the sarcophagus as Magnus neared the demon, but he was too late. The ground rumbled beneath his feet as though a shockwave rippled under the surface of the ground and the cover slipped to the dead, spiking grass beside it.

  Magnus hurtled at the short, stocky body of the creature that chortled gleefully and slipped away, following a dervish of wind, leaves and debris that rose from the crypt and whirled above the trees in the graveyard.

  He sank beside the empty grave and peered inside, finding it empty of the dark soul that should have rested there an eternity. Only rats scurried at the bottom. What he and many others had feared following the devastating storm had come to pass. The Devourer had arisen.

  So ominous was the vision flickering through her mind, Noelle gasped. Then another fleeting memory followed—

  Magnus, dressed in armor and chain mail, wielded a sword as fire licked at cottages and the bodies littering the ground around him. Short, sharp-toothed creatures, black as the demon in the graveyard, shrieked as more soldiers on foot and horseback chased after them, slicing at their bodies only to have them instantly reform a missing limb or heal a deep gash.

  Magnus struck the one in front of him in the neck, taking off its head, and the demon burst into flames. “Take off their heads,” he screamed to the men around him and charged after the next hellish creature.

  She drew back her hand sharply and stared. No wonder he’d wanted her to leave. He knew another battle brewed. The weariness she’d sensed wasn’t cowardice but surrender—he knew the darkness would win this time. The demon from the grave was the source of a great evil, which had only grown stronger and more vengeful inside its tomb.

  It’s time, Noelle.

  No! He couldn’t give up the fight. Somehow he had to see that as long as there is life, there is hope.

  But she’d promised him this—her compliance. She’d let him take her memory to save his peace of mind. Then he’d walk into the sunlight and let the bright rays sear his flesh from his bones…her dark angel…her vampire.

  Lifting her gaze, tears blurred her last sight of his beloved face.

  * * * * *

  Noelle checked her purse for her keys one more time, hating the feeling she’d misplaced something. She did that a lot these days.

  “Merry Christmas, Noelle!”

  She glanced up at Gerard who stood at the entrance of his restaurant and gave him a cheerful wave. She’d had a good day. She’d read happier times in several palms. Maybe it was even true. Her gift wasn’t giving her clear visions anymore, but she felt happier and
the city seemed to be churning toward a brighter future, however sluggish the new beginning.

  Gathering her jacket closer to ward off a chill from the moist breeze whipping down Bourbon Street, she let herself be carried along with the boisterous crowd. Snippets of holiday music blared from shops and bars, and Noelle was glad she’d used some of her meager funds to purchase a tree. Her place looked like home again after feeling hollow and empty for days. Perhaps she was finally ready to let go of the sadness of her parents’ deaths.

  A prickle of awareness lifted the hairs on the back of her neck, and she glanced around. Not finding an obvious source, she shrugged and turned back toward home.

  “I saw you earlier with your cart,” a deep, appealing voice rumbled beside her.

  She glanced sharply to her side then upwards to meet a steady blue gaze that set her heart thumping loud inside her chest. “Do I know you?” she asked, her throat inexplicably tight.

  “Are you really psychic?” His gaze penetrated, slicing through the reserve she kept for strangers who accosted her on the street.

  “Need a reading?” she asked, not sure how she’d pushed the ordinary words out of her throat where her heart had lodged. He was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen. Like an angel with streetlamp picking out the golden strands in his hair to shimmer like a halo around his head. But there was something odd about the movement of his lips.

  His gaze swept her hair, lingered on her eyes, touched her mouth and then he held out his palm.

  Noelle reached out her hand slowly, sensing this was a point of no return, that suddenly her life would never be ordinary again.

  When her hands cupped his, an odd blanketing quiet fell around them, suspending the moment in time. As she peered down to analyze the lines that crisscrossed his broad palm, a vision of crystalline clarity pierced the fog that had kept her happy—and stupid—for days.

  She bit back the anger he deserved for walking away from them and blinked back tears. Her breath caught on a sob. He was here now and holding out his hand to share the truth. At least it was a step in the right direction. She took a deep cleansing breath and glanced into his face.

  His eyes were moist, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. Then another revelation, this time not a vision but feminine intuition, stole her breath. He’d spoken aloud to her. Gifted her with his true voice.

  While he waited, his rigid stance betraying his hope and fear, Noelle realized one more thing. He loved her. He’d chosen life—for her.

  Her lips curved into a slow, sweet smile. “I see…a very long life.”

  Magnus lifted a hand that trembled just a bit and cupped her cheek. “I couldn’t stay away,” he whispered.

  “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “Can I convince you to leave this city?”

  Noelle’s eyes filled. “I think we should both stay. We’re needed.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, and he blew out a deep, pent-up breath. When he opened them again, he nodded, his jaw tightening.

  With their hands clasped they headed toward the corner of her street.

  “I saw you with a Christmas tree,” he murmured.

  She dipped her head and smiled. Such an ordinary thing for this extraordinary man to say. He definitely needed help with his small talk. “It still needs decorating.”

  “I can reach the higher places for you.”

  A vision of tinsel draping a pointed part of his anatomy deepened her grin.

  She tugged on his hand, halting him in the middle of the street. His expression held a question, but one look at her parted lips and he knew she couldn’t wait. The quiet that always surrounded them when they touched intensified when they stood close as lovers—her arms around his shoulders, his hands beneath her jacket, urging her hips closer.

  The kiss sealed their lips and their unspoken promise. Whatever hardships and horrors the future held, they had each other.

  About the author

  Delilah Devlin dated a Samoan, a Venezuelan, a Turk, a Cuban, and was engaged to a Greek before marrying her Irishman. She’s lived in Saudi Arabia, Germany, and Ireland, but calls Texas home for now. Ever a risk taker, she lived in the Saudi Peninsula during the Gulf War, thwarted an attempted abduction by white slave traders, and survived her children’s juvenile delinquency.

  Creating alter egos for herself in the pages of her books enables her to live new adventures. Since discovering the sinful pleasure of erotica, she writes to satisfy her need for variety--it keeps her from running away with the Indian working in the cubicle beside her!

  In addition to writing erotica, she enjoys creating romantic comedies and suspense novels.

  Delilah welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

  Also by Delilah Devlin

  Ellora’s Cavemen: Tales from the Temple III anthology

  Fated Mates anthology

  Lion In the Shadows

  My Immortal Knight: All Hallows Heartbreaker

  My Immortal Knight: Love Bites

  My Immortal Knight: All Knight Long

  My Immortal Knight: Relentless

  My Immortal Knight: Uncovering Navarro

  Garden of Desire

  Nibbles ‘n’ Bits anthology

  Prisoner Of Desire

  Slave Of Desire

  The Pleasure Bot

  Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

  www.ellorascave.com