Dark Knights 1: Eternity of Darkness

by Shana Nichols

  “Stefan, I want to love you, too.”

  He reversed his position and knelt between her legs, rubbing his cock along her warm, wet slit, seeking the haven of her womb once more. “You’re my love, my partner.” He sank slowly into her welcoming body, his gaze locked on hers.

  As the morning sun filtered lightly through heavy drapes, Stefan took his dhampir lover for the first time. Lacy patterns of dim light danced between them as they moved in an ageless rite of possession. Though he braced himself on his hands, sparing her the weight of his upper body, in his mind he stroked every centimeter of her glowing skin, claiming it -- claiming her for all time. Julie arched her neck, a vampire offering sustenance to her vampire lover. No need now to hold back. Hot semen gathered in his testicles, his fangs elongated, and he bent his head to accept her selfless gift. She shuddered, her sex growing wetter, convulsing around his aching flesh, demanding all he was, all he’d ever be. “Now, Stefan. Bite me now. Bite me as you did before.”

  He couldn’t deny her. Not now, not ever. Letting go the control he’d struggled to hold onto, Stefan came. Mindful of her fledgling status, he sank his fangs with care, nipping...

  She screamed, the sound one of ecstasy, not pain. When he lifted his head, she found his neck and bit him. Given with love but without the finesse born of centuries’ practice, her tentative bite left his heart beating wildly, his body trembling in tandem with hers.

  Apparently drained with the intensity of their lovemaking, Julie fell asleep, her hair spilling over Stefan’s arm. Her heartbeat, like his, had slowed so as to be nearly imperceptible. He couldn’t resist touching her, petting her satiny skin, running his fingers through the fine strands of her golden hair. As a mortal, she’d sat before a mirror and brushed it to a fine sheen. He’d do it for her now, until she learned to groom herself by touch, not sight. Or until he had to go again, continue the hunt for Reynard until he was well and truly destroyed.

  “You’ll not park me in that castle of yours while you go off chasing that killer again,” Julie said, her eyes wide-open now although he heard sleep in her husky voice.

  Amazing, how quickly she’d picked up a vampire’s knack for reading minds. Stefan had a feeling argument on this matter would do no more good than his orders for her to stay inside had done during the fight yesterday. He took her hand, brought it to his lips. “Wherever I go, you shall go, too, my darling. Forever, for our eternity of darkness.” Stefan watched her expression soften.

  “Woof.”

  “Noodles, you can go, too,” he added when her little dog jumped up on the bed and demanded their attention.

  Epilogue

  A wedding? Julie always had expected she’d have one someday, but she’d never dreamed the guest list would be divided between mortals and vampires, or that the ceremony would take place in a vampire bar on Rush Street -- a place she hadn’t realized existed less than a month ago. She’d never imagined she and her bridegroom would seal their vows with mutual vampire bites as well as the traditional kiss.

  Two weeks had passed since Stefan had turned her, and she still had trouble keeping her fangs from elongating whenever her body stirred for him. It still felt strange, passing on mortal food and taking sustenance only from blood. She liked it best, sipped slowly from Stefan’s veins. Today, though, they fed from rich red human blood served in fine crystal stem glasses.

  “To eternal happiness, long life, and many little vamps,” shouted her friend Giorgio once the obligatory toasts were finished.

  Stefan linked his arm through hers, smiled down at her, and whispered, “Easy now. Relax and sip slowly, then retract your fangs.”

  So far Julie liked most things about being a vampire -- except the difficulty she still had, dealing with her new fangs. But she wouldn’t let a little detail like that bother her on her wedding day. Carefully, keeping her gaze on her new husband’s, she sipped, swallowed. It wasn’t all that hard, sort of like drinking soda from a straw.

  The change that gave her the most pleasure was that her skin had become satin-smooth. Not a body hair in sight. Stefan made no secret about liking her even better without it, and it pleased her not to have to endure monthly bikini waxings to keep herself as silky as a newborn baby. Just thinking of him licking and nipping at her with nothing between them to mute the erotic sensation had her wishing they were somewhere private -- and getting damp, anticipating his touch, the glide of his hot, smooth cock along her slit, the delicious friction of private flesh on private flesh.

  He looked darkly handsome in his tuxedo, but she loved him best naked, lying back and letting her explore his magnificent body with eyes and hands and mouth. When he smiled, her mouth watered. She had to struggle to keep her fangs retracted, as she did whenever they indulged in sexual foreplay. God, but she loved giving him oral sex, sucking and stroking his smooth, hot cock and balls while he returned the favor.

  Since she’d become a vampire, her reactions to emotional and sensual stimuli had become more intense. From the first day, she’d found herself feeling and seeing things in more vivid detail. She even found herself entering Stefan’s mind, learning his thoughts before he voiced them. Though she now went out only in total darkness, for unlike Stefan she could tolerate almost no daylight, everything seemed bright as long as she had him by her side.

  Soon she’d go back to painting. Her new vision shone through in the portrait of Stefan that she’d just completed yesterday. Hopefully she’d find a similar passion in all her art, though she doubted she’d ever surpass that one, love-inspired masterpiece. A fleeting regret dulled her happiness when she considered she’d have to paint the matching portrait of herself from memory, or from photos taken when she’d been mortal.

  A small disadvantage, knowing now she had a long lifetime to be seen only through others’ eyes. Through Stefan’s gorgeous green eyes that she hoped he’d pass on to the children they both hoped would be theirs.

  The back room at Ristorante della Rubio had a festive look. Roses -- none of them white -- and baby’s breath decorated every table. Candles flickered in ornate standing sconces at each corner of the dance floor. Thrilled they’d chosen his club as the site for their wedding, Guy supervised a dozen waiters, pointing out which guests got the mortal menu and which ones drank only aperitifs made of fresh AB-negative and French sparkling water. A string quartet made up of d’Argent dhampirs -- friends of Stefan’s mother -- played romantic pieces from centuries long past.

  Noodles relaxed on a pillow at Stefan’s feet, enjoying the bone from Julie’s father’s steak. She’d join them on their honeymoon in New Orleans, where the wedding festivities would continue in Julie’s childhood home.

  Stefan leaned over, whispered in Julie’s ear. “Are you happy, Madame d’Argent?”

  “Deliriously happy. Anxious for you to meet the rest of my family, then to see our new home.”

  “That may not be for a while, if Alina’s hunch is right. According to her spies, Reynard is on the move again, bent on going after Alina herself this time. We’ll have to fight him with all we’ve got.” He paused, and when she read his thoughts she knew he hated that their honeymoon would be cut short. “Let’s go. I want you now. I want to feed on you, and have you feed on me.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I want that, too. Dare we take our leave?”

  “Soon, my darling.” He slid a hand up her thigh and cupped her mound through her skimpy satin thong. Bending to her ear, he whispered, “I think I like your underwear. I like your bare skin more, though.”

  “If we’re going to go, we need to say goodbye to my father.”

  Stefan glanced around the room. “There he is. Dancing with Alina.”

  “Really?” Julie had liked Stefan’s regal cousin the moment they met. It had surprised her that the vampire queen so closely resembled her, even though she should have expected it, considering that a crazed serial killer had singled her out for exactly that reason. Her father apparently liked Alina, too, because he’d danced with he
r several times, seemed intent on staying close by when she chatted with Stefan’s mother and half-a-dozen of her friends.

  Julie laid her hand on Stefan’s wrist. She couldn’t take a lot more of his teasing without ripping off her clothes and his. Vampire compulsion? She didn’t know, but she could barely maintain any decorum at all when he persisted in whispering erotic suggestions, strumming the erogenous zones of her body with the skill of a master. Maybe, if they talked about mundane things...

  “You know, this is the first time since Mother died that I’ve seen Dad pay any attention to a woman. Do you think -- “

  “I think I’d like to get you alone, and soon.” He slid his hand between her legs again and tweaked her clit. “What do you say we make our farewells and fly away to our nuptial bed? The rest of these good people can make their way to New Orleans without us.”

  “All right.” Hopefully they’d arrive in time to enjoy a day or two in the French Quarter before the other guests arrived. Alex had scouted out several vampire bars, and booked them the bridal suite at the elegant Monteleone Hotel. “Yes. Let’s get out of here.”

  “All right. Your father and Alina just left the dance floor. Come on, we’ll tell them goodbye and be on our way.” Julie felt Stefan’s impatience, in the abruptness of his movement as he removed his hand from her sex, stood, and practically dragged her from her chair. She barely had time to grab Noodles’ leash. “Sorry, girl,” she murmured when the dog let out a yelp.

  Before Julie could protest his unseemly haste, Stefan had maneuvered them through the dancers to her father’s side.

  “We’re going to leave now, Sam.” Since her mother’s death when she was small, Julie had called her big, indulgent father by his first name. She met his gaze, read pride and love -- and concern about the abruptness of her decision to marry. Since she’d introduced the two males most important in her life, Sam had mellowed -- after all, Stefan had the persuasive abilities of an old, experienced vampire, and whatever reservations her father had seemed to be gone now.

  No doubt, his lack of reservations about her choice of mate also had something to do with Alina. The vampire queen rested an elegantly manicured hand on Sam’s arm. “You take care of Julie now,” he told Stefan before covering Alina’s hand with his own. “We’ll see you two in New Orleans.”

  “O.K..” Julie turned to Stefan and whispered, “Let’s go.”

  Stefan took her hand. “Hold on.” A strange feeling came over Julie, a sense of being invisible. Maybe they were, because they made their way from the reception without encountering any of their guests. Once outside the restaurant, he lifted Noodles, deposited her in Julie’s arms. Then he lifted Julie herself, heedless of her protests that they’d forgotten their luggage.

  “Forget clothes. I’ll buy you more. Unless I decide I want to keep you naked.” Stefan dropped a light kiss on Julie’s mouth, then took to the air.

  Moments later, they landed in the shadows of a New Orleans alley, near their hotel suite.

  Stefan set Julie on her feet. “Put Noodles down. I can’t wait another moment to taste you.”

  His fangs grew longer before her eyes. His green eyes glowed, the whites of them and his teeth glistening in the moonlight. She’d never seen him look so dangerous -- or so irresistible. Setting her hands on his shoulders for balance, she arched her throat in invitation. One vampire lover, offering sustenance to another. His expression fierce, he lowered his head.

  Sank his fangs into her. At the moment of penetration, a sense of contentment flowed between them. Julie slid her hands up, tunneled her fingers through Stefan’s glossy dark hair. “God, how I love you,” she whispered as he shuddered with his own completion. “My husband.”

  “Let’s check in. I want more than a taste, Madame d’Argent.” They rounded the corner, arm in arm. In an opulent lobby reminiscent of an earlier, less harried age, they registered, Julie enjoying the indulgent smiles from people in the lobby when they noticed her and Stefan in their wedding finery.

  In the elevator, he gathered her in his arms, nibbled at her neck. “Did you enjoy our trip?”

  “Very much. So much quicker than an airplane. More private, too.”

  He slid his hands up her body, cupped her breasts. “This elevator’s private, too. And it leaves me free to touch you like this.”

  By the time the machine glided to a halt on the top floor, Julie could barely wait to get inside their suite, take their erotic adventure to its natural conclusion. Noodles flopped on the cherry-red bath rug, while Stefan eyed the huge four-poster bed with its heavy drapes and mosquito netting, no longer necessary now, as the hotel had been air conditioned for years, but perfect as a makeshift vampire lair. He regarded Julie with a hungry grin.

  Julie looked around the luxurious room. Then she saw the basket. Approaching it, she fingered a large glass dildo that caught the light of a fat, fragrant candle. She’d never seen some of the sensual playthings before, but her sex grew damp when she imagined Stefan tickling her with the red ostrich plume, working a strange-shaped vibrator into her rear passage. She spied a black leather cock ring, imagined it strapped around her bridegroom’s impressive sex.

  “See anything you like, cherie?” She didn’t see him, but with that sometimes distracting vampire perception, she sensed he’d come up behind her. Close enough that the heat of his passion seared her buttocks. Close enough for him to skim his hands over her back, lowering the zipper of her wedding gown.

  Tension sizzled between them. Julie stepped out of the gown, then turned to face him, naked except for ivory stockings and a red satin thong, he threw off his tuxedo jacket and toed off his shoes.

  “Let’s play.” His expression dark with vampire lust, he bent and sucked her puckered nipples, first one and then the other.

  Julie loved the suction, the heat of his mouth. The slight rasp of his teeth when he gave each hardened nub a playful nip. “Oh, yes.”

  He glanced at the selection of sex toys and grinned. “We’ll try out some of these toys, too.”

  Julie loosened his suspenders and worked the studs from his shirt, then slid it off his shoulders. She laid her cheek on his chest, listened to the slow, barely perceptible beat of his heart. It accelerated in perfect accord with hers as he stroked her belly, her mound, her clit that had already swollen and grown hard with anticipation.

  The buttons on his pants gave her a moment’s pause, but seeing him magnificently naked, deliciously aroused, was worth the effort it took to unwrap her prize. She cupped his velvety scrotum with both hands and bent to lick the tip of his cock with her tongue.

  “I love you, husband.”

  “And I love you. Let’s go to bed.”

  The sun was rising over the nearby Mississippi River, peeking through ancient oak trees festooned with Spanish moss, but the lovers didn’t notice. They lay in the heavily draped bridal bed, deliriously happy as they consummated their vows -- anticipating an eternity of darkness together.

  Shana Nichols

  When Ann Jacobs decided to broaden her horizons, she created Shana Nichols, a brand-new name, a bright new persona to launch a darker, more plot-driven style of books. Shana hopes to bring new, erotic dimensions to urban legend with her Dark Knights series for the new electronic publisher, Loose Id.

  A long-time resident of west central Florida, Shana/Ann has been writing since the early 1990’s, and has sold a total of thirty-nine books published under four pseudonyms by Berkley, Kensington, Red Sage, Five Star, Changeling Press, Ellora’s Cave, Whiskey Creek Press, and now Loose Id.

  Shana writes erotic tales of emotionally gripping characters in life-threatening situations, larger-than-life otherworldly heroes and heroines seeking to right wrongs in a sometimes terrifying contemporary urban world, while Ann’s books bring a sense of sexual fantasy to the romantic ideal of one man, one woman, and happily ever after. Ann Josephson pens hot contemporary category romances, while Sara Jarrod, now retired, wrote steamy single-title romances with ghos
tly facilitators.

  Shana/Ann is a member of RWA, Novelists, Inc., and the Authors Guild. Besides writing, she enjoys the beach, the mountains, and prowling around the cities of America where her first series of contemporary vampire stories will be set.

  You can find Shana on the Net at www.shananichols.com and her alter-ego Ann at www.annjacobs.us. Or e-mail Shana at shana@shananichols.com. Both she and Ann love to hear from readers.

  * * * * *

  Turn the page for a tantalizing glimpse of

  Rebel Angels 1: Born of the Shadows

  by Cyndi Friberg

  Now Available from Loose Id

  Rebel Angels 1: Born of the Shadows

  Naomi angled her sketch of the stranger toward the lamplight and felt heat spread across her cheeks. Just his image caused her senses to respond. It was really quite ridiculous.

  “I missed you at Vespers,” Brother Gabriel said from somewhere behind her. “What kept you so occupied that you neglected your evening prayers?”

  Carefully keeping the scrap of vellum turned away, Naomi pivoted on the stool and offered her warmest smile. “Adam and Eve. Well, mostly Adam.”

  Brother Gabriel chuckled and Naomi tried to relax, but tension gripped her abdomen and refused to let go. She studied her closest friend with new interest as he crossed the scriptorium. There was nothing she didn’t know about this man, or so she’d believed until a short while ago.

  He wore a long-sleeved black robe emblazoned with the distinctive white cross identifying him as a member of the elite Order of St. John of Jerusalem. Naomi felt proud to be part of such an important order. The Knights of St. John had been serving Western pilgrims as they traveled through the Holy Land for well over a century. One of their grandest accomplishments had been building a hospital in the heart of Jerusalem, and now members of the order were often called Knights Hospitaller.