My Immortal Knight 2: Love Bites

by Delilah Devlin

  “I’ve got the second target,” Max replied.

  Once the team had selected their marks, the airwave was silent. The only sounds coming from boats nudging their slips and booted feet on wood.

  Suddenly, one of Nicky’s men lifted his nose into the wind.

  “Now!” Max shouted.

  Darcy pulled back on her trigger, letting her arrow fly. Her first target staggered, and then disintegrated. When she reached for her next arrow, Quentin leapt over the gunwale and landed on the narrow walkway between the two boats.

  The rapid tattoo of gunfire erupted and her team members shouted in their mikes as they took cover.

  Cursing beneath her breath, Darcy quickly pulled back her bowstring, latched it in the spring clip, and slid the arrow along the track. Armed, she slid over the gunwale, intent on following Quentin.

  From all along the dock came the sounds of the ensuing battle. Curses, and the sharp staccato of machine fire ripped through the night.

  “How many?” Max’s voice demanded.

  “I counted nine,” the Captain said, his voice sounding raspy as he ran along the dock to join the fight.

  “That means six to go.” Max grunted, and then roared. The sounds of fists meeting flesh filled Darcy’s headset.

  “Emmy, get back to the van!”

  “Dylan, I have a stake in this too. You’re not leaving me behind.”

  “God dammit to hell!”

  As she crept aboard the drug lord’s cruiser, Darcy ignored the voices in her ear and the flashes of gunfire that burst brilliantly around her. Getting Nicky was her sole focus. Oh, and saving Quentin’s butt. They were partners now. He shouldn’t have proceeded without her.

  She climbed up the gangway and slipped over the side, making her way toward the steps leading down into the cabin. The lights had been doused, but she sensed movement inside. Careful not to make any noise, she inched her way toward the shadowed compartment.

  “Well, if it isn’t GI Jane.” The voice came from behind her and she stiffened, her heart lurching in her chest. “I’d recognize your sweet scent anywhere.”

  The team went instantly, eerily, silent. With her heart picking up its pace, she slowly turned to face Nicky Powell, her bow raised level with her chest. All she could think was where the hell was Quentin?

  Quentin watched from the shadow of the cockpit, his hand tightening around the puny stake he held. Nicky had a gun pointed at Darcy. Quentin didn’t dare make a move or he might distract her.

  Nicky took a step toward her.

  “Don’t come any closer,” she warned.

  He sniffed the air. “I smell Quentin. He’s been all over you, hasn’t he?” His smile sent a shiver down Quentin’s back.

  “You’re surrounded,” Darcy said, her voice steady. “You may as well lay down your weapon. You aren’t stepping off this boat.”

  Quentin’s chest filled with pride at her courage.

  “But I have you, therefore I have the advantage.”

  A soft click and the blur of her arrow flying toward Nicky’s chest happened so quickly, Quentin didn’t have time to react.

  The arrow sank only to its tip.

  Nicky’s laughter, soft and ominous rang in the air. “Do you think you’re the only ones who own flak jackets?” He plucked the arrow from his shirt. “Let’s stop wasting time. Come here.” He waved her closer with his gun.

  Quentin watched Darcy’s face and knew the exact moment she’d decided not to cooperate. She drew a deep breath and her hands clenched at her sides. He started to rise from his hiding place when she took a step toward Nicky. Suddenly, she feinted to the side.

  The roar of Nicky’s gun spurred Quentin from his hiding place. From the corner of his eye he saw Darcy pitch forward and over the side of the boat, her body splashing softly in the water below. He roared and launched himself at Nicky, desperate to get to Darcy.

  He raised his stake and Nicky fired again, striking Quentin in the abdomen. He dropped the stake, but the bullet didn’t slow his advance. His charge carried him into Nicky and down onto the bow of the cruiser. His progeny roared, his face transforming and pulling Quentin into his bloodlust.

  Quentin’s body and face expanded and he flung back his head with a roar of fury. He rolled with Nicky, fighting to keep his “son” beneath him. He spotted a coil of rope and reached out his hand to close around it.

  Nicky pounded at Quentin’s sides with his fists, but Quentin was undeterred. He grasped the rope in both hands and wound it once around his opponent’s throat.

  Nicky’s eyes bulged as the noose tightened. His mouth gaped and his body bucked in powerful surges, trying to unseat Quentin, but Quentin pulled tighter until the nylon cut into the other vamp’s throat.

  With adrenaline surging through his veins, Quentin snapped the rope, severing Nicky’s head from his shoulders.

  When the din of his bloodlust quieted in his head, he heard the shouts of the team and Dylan as they ran toward him. He lurched toward the side of the boat and jumped into the water. As he entered it, he heard splashes all around him and bright lights shown into the murky depths.

  He swam deep to the bottom of the inlet, but he didn’t see her. His heart breaking, he reached into the silt and waving fronds of seagrass, searching for the place her body had settled. How long had it been? Please God, I have to find her.

  His lungs burning from the lack of air, he refused to return to the surface. Every moment was precious. His hands sank below the swirling green seaweed as he swam along the bottom.

  Then he saw a pale oval glimmering among the fronds. He reached and snagged Darcy’s braid, pulling her into his arms. He swam for the surface, his lungs nearly bursting, praying he wasn’t too late.

  When he surfaced, many hands reached for his burden. Although reluctant to let her go, he lifted her body gently into their waiting arms, then heaved himself onto the planks beside them.

  Max made quick work of removing her Kevlar jacket and her T-shirt. Then he placed two fingers to the side of her throat. “Her heart isn’t beating.”

  A raw, burning sensation tightened Quentin’s throat. With every fiber of his being, he fought the need to push everyone aside and gather her close to him and howl. Darcy couldn’t be gone. Eternity without her was unthinkable.

  His breath sounding harsh in his ears, he watched Max press his clasped hands against her chest. Captain Springer knelt beside her head and lowered his mouth to hers, breathing into her lungs. Dylan pressed her T-shirt against the furrowed wound high on her shoulder that seeped slowly with her blood.

  An arm settled around his shoulders and Quentin looked up into Emmy’s misty face. Then he realized he was crying. She kissed his cheek and hugged him tightly to her breasts. His arms slipped around her while his eyes burned, watching the men work over Darcy’s still form.

  “Breathe dammit,” he whispered, willing her to live. If only, he’d moved more quickly, he could have taken the bullet for her.

  The men continued to work and Quentin’s dread grew. He was responsible for this. He had made Nicky. God damn his soul.

  Max stopped the compressions and checked her pulse again.

  Quentin saw a flutter of an eyelid. “Wait,” he said, his breath catching. Please don’t let me have imagined it.

  Darcy’s body convulsed and water burbled from her mouth. Max rolled her to her side and she choked, vomiting water. Her eyes remained closed and the group waited to see whether she’d recover.

  Slowly, her hand fisted and she coughed. Her eyes opened and she stared straight at Quentin.

  Quentin didn’t care that everyone saw the tears that streaked down his cheeks. He crawled toward her and reached out his hand to cup her cheek. “Don’t you ever give me another scare like that,” he said, not recognizing the sound of his voice, it was so clogged with emotion.

  Darcy’s hand settled over his. “What? You think I planned to suck down the entire Atlantic?” She coughed again, the sound rattling harsh in
side her chest.

  “Let’s get this one to a hospital,” the Captain said.

  Darcy’s eyes sought Quentin’s. “Nicky?”

  “He’s dead,” he said flatly.

  “As are the rest of his minions,” Max said.

  Darcy settled back against the wooden planks, her eyes closing. “So tired.”

  Quentin gathered her into his arms and lurched to his feet. “Sleep, baby. I’ve got you now.”

  She sighed and pressed a kiss to his throat.

  Quentin held her to close to his heart as he followed the Captain toward the waiting van. He’d never let her go.

  Chapter Twelve

  Darcy followed the sound of soft laughter into her kitchen on wobbly legs, rubbing her sore, itchy shoulder. As she pushed the door open, three sets of vampires’ eyes swung guiltily toward her.

  Suspicion aroused, her gaze darted around the kitchen but didn’t land on anything that would inspire the uncomfortable silence—except an open package of calves’ liver. Quentin shoved something on the counter behind his back and leaned indolently against the counter.

  Darcy’s eyes narrowed and she reached around him. She pulled out a cold container of her favorite ice cream, Cookies N’ Cream. She lifted an eyebrow, but Quentin simply pulled a laden spoon from behind his back and slipped it between his lips.

  Emmy snickered. “So you’re up at last? Should you be out of bed?”

  Darcy frowned at her attempt to change the subject. Something was up. “What’s going on here?”

  “We were just discussing the merits of organ meat,” Dylan said, then quickly pressed his lips together.

  Emmy jammed him in the belly with her elbow and smiled brightly. “And Quentin’s odd cravings.”

  “Emmy!” Quentin’s narrowed gaze looked just plain mean.

  “I think we’d better leave these two alone, darling.” Dylan grabbed Emmy’s elbow and herded her out of the kitchen.

  “Sweetheart, how are you feeling?” Quentin asked—too quickly.

  Tired of everyone changing the subject and talking in riddles. Darcy crossed her arms over her chest. “Everyone has been treating me with kid gloves.”

  “You were injured, love. Everyone’s been worried about you. Even Captain Springer and the team make it a point to stop in every day.”

  “And talking in whispers when they think I’m sleeping.”

  “Right. I suppose you’ve been wondering about that.” Quentin straightened away from the counter.

  Darcy’s breath hitched. This was the first time she’d stood next to him since being shot, and she’d forgotten how tall he was. Even unconsciously, he was able to distract her. “Mmmm-hmm.”

  “Well, we felt it was for the best.”

  Ignoring the sensual awareness that made her skin tingle, she drummed her fingers on her arm.

  “We didn’t want to impede your recovery.”

  Impatient now for him to get to the point, she blurted, “Out with it.”

  “Alright,” he said, blowing out his breath. “But first, let’s go sit down. You’re looking a little flushed.”

  She let him lead her into the empty living room and settle her on the sofa, fussing unnecessarily with the pillows until he was satisfied of her comfort. He’d been this way all week—ever since she’d been released from the hospital. Solicitous. Kind. Distant.

  “Have you changed your mind?” she asked quietly, not seeing any need to draw this conversation out. The suspense was already killing her.

  He squatted on his haunches in front of her. “Changed my mind?”

  “About turning me.”

  His gaze slipped from hers and Darcy felt her heart squeeze tightly.

  “I suppose you’re eager to leave now,” she said, although the words seemed to stick in her throat—behind the lump that threatened to choke her.

  “Leave?”

  “With the investigation over, I thought you’d be itching to get back to Seattle.”

  “It rather depends,” he said quietly.

  She knew her heart was in her eyes, but she couldn’t help the hope she knew was reflected in her expression. Her emotions were too raw to conceal. “What does it depend on?”

  “On you.”

  She swallowed. “You don’t want to turn me, do you?”

  “Not now.”

  “Because it’s dangerous?”

  “Because it wouldn’t be right.”

  Shaking her head to clear her confusion, she said, “I don’t understand.”

  “Love, you’re going to have a baby.” His expression was stark, his jaw tight.

  “What?” Of all the reasons, that would have been last on her list. Pregnant? How—”Oh.” Joe. Oh God. “Everyone knows?”

  “Yes, love.”

  “But the hospital—”

  “Captain Springer told them I was your fiancé. I asked them to let me tell you.”

  “My mother?”

  He nodded.

  “But I’ve spoken to her on the phone every day.” My own mother kept a secret like that?

  “She thinks the child is mine. She’d have been on the first plane here if she hadn’t caught the flu.”

  She inhaled a ragged breath. “Joe?”

  “He hasn’t called in. And I thought you’d want to be the one to tell him.” Quentin reached to pull away the pillow she clutched between nerveless fingers, and then closed his large hands around hers, warming them. “You don’t have to make any decisions now. You have a lot to think about. And there are some things I want to tell you.”

  Her eyes pooled with tears, but she nodded. Are you going to tell me it’s over? That you can’t love a woman with a child? Because I won’t give it up.

  “I never told you how it was I came to be…what I am.” He squeezed her hands, and his gaze held hers. “I was a spoiled, reckless young man. I left England in search of adventure because I suffered from boredom. I’d never experienced a grand passion for anything.” He lifted his shoulders and shrugged sheepishly. “Except sex, that is.”

  A little smile curved her mouth. This she could well imagine. He was describing the Quentin she’d first met.

  “I never loved anything or anyone. I was a younger son, so my family was only too glad when I headed to the Caribbean.” He smiled crookedly. “My behavior was causing a bit of a scandal, you see.

  “Anyway, in the Caymans I met a dark, honey-skinned woman. Her appetite matched mine and she taught me things—wicked, sexy things that bound me to her. I craved what she meted out. Even believed I was falling in love with her.”

  Darcy knew where this was headed. “She was a vampire.”

  “Yes. We spent weeks in her cottage next to the beach, and I never once questioned her aversion to the sunlight or odd cravings for raw flesh. Her brand of sexual sorcery enslaved me for a time. I pleased her, and she gave me the one ‘reward’ that was in her power to give.”

  “Eternal life,” Darcy whispered.

  “Yes. Only once I’d changed, I recognized her dark seduction and she ceased to hold power over me. And I was damned to walk the Earth at night—forever seeking relief from my never-ending boredom.”

  Tears finally slipped down her face. “And now?”

  “I tried to tie you to me in the exact same way that witch did to me. With my own brand of dark seduction.”

  “Because you were bored and you could?” She had to know what was really in his heart, however much it hurt.

  “Because I love you, and I don’t ever want to let you go.”

  Darcy closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. When she opened them, his worried expression prompted her to ask, “What do you fear?”

  “That one day you’ll wake up and discover I’ve bound you with desire.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “It is, if there isn’t true love in your heart, as well,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

  Darcy pulled her hands from under his and reached to cradle his fa
ce between her palms, her heart bursting. “I love you, Quentin. For however long I live, I will always love you.”

  Quentin’s eyes squeezed shut. “And I will love you for all my life.”

  Darcy’s heart raced and her hands smoothed over his broad shoulders. “Love me, Quentin.”

  “I do,” he breathed.

  “No, love me.”

  His eyes popped open. “I see. Your shoulder?”

  “Aches like the devil, but I have a deeper ache somewhere else.”

  “I think I have just the cure,” he purred.

  “Hurry.”

  Quentin stood, swept her into his arms, and walked briskly to their bedroom. There he laid her on her pink-flowered sheets and swiftly, gently, removed her clothing, and then tore his own from his body.

  Darcy grinned. “A little anxious, are we?”

  “We have suffered an entire week of purgatory, madam.”

  “Poor baby. Is that why you slept on your side of the bed?”

  He stalked toward the bed, his expression intent, his gaze locked on her open, welcoming cunt. “I was afraid I’d hurt you if I so much as touched your soft skin. I’ve been going mad.”

  “Come to me,” she said, opening her arms.

  He stretched his body over hers, braced on his arms, careful not to jostle her shoulder. “I don’t know if I can be gentle,” he whispered.

  “Fuck me, Quentin,” Darcy moaned.

  “Oh love, invite me into your solace.” He nudged her portal with the smooth, broad head of his cock.

  Darcy’s body glazed the tip with her creamy invitation.

  He entered her with a single, endless glide, and then held himself still.

  Darcy closed her arms and legs around him and held him tight. “No one will ever fill my body or my heart like you do.” She circled her hips on his cock, screwing them both to distraction.

  “Christ, you’re not making this any easier for me.” He moved then, flexing his hips to drive into her, surging, pushing her up the bed with each hard stroke.

  All her love poured from her body, bathing his cock with welcome.

  Quentin groaned and leaned down to take her lips in a searing kiss, eating her mouth. “I won’t ever let you go. You’re mine.” His hips moved faster, his thrusts grew sharper. His face tightened, but didn’t transform.