Phantom Desires (11 page)

After six hundreds years of searching, Marc has resigned himself to the fact that he’ll never find his One. Kelly is under Atticus and Lissa’s protection, and therefore off limits. Yet the desire to possess her is too strong to resist. Curiosity leads to lust—and the surprising discovery that they indeed could be destined mates.

But a dark cloud hangs heavy over them. A rival vampire has challenged Marc for leadership—a challenge that involves a fight to the death.

The cost of survival could forever poison any hope for a future together, but if they can both pass the final test, they could find love that will last for eternity.

This book has been previously published and has been revised from its original release.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Rare Vintage:

He could read the growing unease on Kelly’s face and knew it was time to change the subject. In all likelihood, she’d never come across a
were
. There were a few in the area, but they tended to give bloodletters a wide berth.

“We don’t interact much,” Marc said, touching her cheek and drawing her gaze to his. “Most of the supernatural beings don’t get along with each other. Few, if any, get along with us in particular because of what their blood does to us.”

“What does it do?” He dropped his hand as she spoke, but he was glad to have her full attention. Just hours before, she would have been screaming bloody murder for such a simple, yet intimate touch.

“Shifter and mage blood is considered a delicacy. It’s rare that we get a chance to sample from either of those unless the person in question agrees. They seldom agree.” He cracked a smile, charmed when she returned the gesture. “Fey blood is too strong for us, generally speaking. The power it packs can act as a poison, but the lure is great. Half-fey, now, that’s another story. The magic of the other realms flowing through half-fey blood is diluted enough for us to drink, but potent enough to give us a boost of power few of us ever experience. It’s a temporary effect, according to legend, but it’s rumored to be the biggest rush an immortal can experience in this realm. But half-fey are even rarer than mages or shifters and they are more powerful than either of the others. Unless they are willing—for whatever reason—to share their blood, there’s almost no chance for one of us to ever sample that kind of power.”

“You mean fey as in fairies? Little pixies like Tinkerbell?” Kelly’s nose scrunched up in the cutest way when she was puzzled. Marc had to resist the urge to kiss the freckled tip.

“Actually, they are fairly normal looking to our eyes, at least as they manifest themselves in this realm. The half-fey are, of course, also half-human, so they look just like you or me, but perhaps more beautiful than the average person. There is a Glamour of magic about them that makes them very visually appealing.”

“That’s fascinating.”

“No, Kelly.” He cupped her cheek, unable to resist the pull of her presence any longer. Marc moved closer, aligning his body with hers.

“You’re fascinating. You’re the most beautiful mortal I’ve encountered in many years—inside and out.”

He dipped his head, placing a chaste kiss on her upturned nose, as he’d longed to do. Her quivering response made him dare more. Pulling her into his arms, he went lower, to kiss her lips as he’d wanted to do for weeks.

She was just as delicious as every dream he’d had of this moment. And he’d spent a lot of time dreaming about the delectable Kelly.

As the kiss deepened, so did his desire. He’d never been so enflamed by a woman, so devastated by a mere kiss. She tasted of honey and wine, a rare combination that tempted his senses almost beyond reason. She tasted of life.

The only thing that could make this moment better would be if she allowed him to taste of her essence…her blood.

It was too much too soon. Marc knew that deep in his soul, where his restraint was rooted in long years of patience. He would have her, but it would be elsewhere—away from his friend’s home, where he wasn’t beholden to respect the rules Atticus had set forth.

But she tasted divine. Marc lost track of time as he kissed the only woman he’d been this attracted to in more years than he could count. She fit in his arms as if she’d been designed to his exact specifications. She yielded to his mastery in the most delightful way and her little moans of pleasure were the sexiest he’d ever heard.

Only one thing could pull him from the sublime feel of her kiss…

The sun.

As the very first rays of dawn kissed the eastern sky, Marc knew his moment out of time with Kelly was at an end. He pulled back, regret filling his world.

“I haven’t been tempted to stay out this late in many long years, but I’m glad my first vision of dawn in centuries was with you,
ma cherie
.”

Kelly’s beautiful blue eyes held the glaze of someone dazed with pleasure for a few precious moments more. Then realization of his predicament clouded her expression with worry.

“Get inside, Marc!” Kelly took his hand in her much smaller one and dragged him toward the door to the house. He went willingly, perplexed and charmed that she’d try to protect him.

Her reaction shocked him. She actually seemed to be anxious on his behalf and willing to push him inside, following close after to slam the door on the threatening light. She didn’t stop herding him until they were well within the windowless hallway that ringed the inside of the home Atticus had designed.

“That was close.” She slammed the door to the hall and leaned against it. Her pulse beat hard in her neck as reaction set in. Marc didn’t know what to make of her, but the visible pounding of her blood against her pale skin had him licking his lips, eager for a taste.

He moved close, blinded for a moment by the hunger that grew inside him until it was nearly uncontrollable. Kelly’s eyes widened in fear as he advanced on her. His fangs elongated as bloodlust and instinct overrode his saner side.

Marc wasn’t sure what he’d have done if Dmitri hadn’t chosen that moment to clear his throat. Marc looked up to find Dmitri watching him with narrowed eyes from the other end of the long hall.

A tense minute passed as Dmitri held his gaze, one raised eyebrow speaking volumes. At length, Marc pulled back. This was wrong. He saw that now. In a crisis of passion he’d let his impulses overcome his better sense, but oh, it had been sublime while it had lasted.

Marc drew back, away from Kelly. She trembled in reaction, fear lighting her beautiful eyes. Fear he had put there. Marc felt lower than pond scum.

“
Je suis désolé, ma petite.
I’m sorry.” With those last whispered words, he backed away putting even more distance between himself and temptation. It was sunrise. He could feel the sun weakening him already. Lesser bloodletters would soon be down for the day, and the threat to Kelly would ease.

Nodding to Dmitri, Marc left her, realizing with a sinking heart that the only threat to her in this house was himself.

Nitro? Meet glycerin…

Biting Nixie

© 2009 Mary Hughes

A
Biting Love
novel

Punk musician Nixie Schmeling is a hundred pounds of Attitude who spells authority a-n-c-h-o-r and thinks buying insurance is just one more step toward death. So she really feels played when she’s “volunteered” to run the town’s first annual fundraising festival. Especially when she finds out it’s to pay for a heavy-hitting, suit-wearing lawyer—who’s six-feet-plus of black-haired, blue-eyed sex on a stick.

Attorney Julian Emerson learned centuries ago that the only way to contain his dangerous nature is to stay buttoned up. He’s come from Boston to defend the town from a shady group of suits…and an even shadier gang of vampires. But his biggest problem is Nixie, who shreds his self-control.

Nixie doesn’t get why the faphead shyster doesn’t understand her. Julian wishes Nixie would speak a known language…like Sanskrit. Even if they manage to foil the bloodthirsty gang, what future is there for a tiny punk rocker and a blue-blooded skyscraper?

And that’s before Nixie finds out Julian’s a vampire…

Warning: Contains more eye-popping sex, ear-popping language and gut-popping laughs than can possibly be good for you. And
vampires. Not sippy-neck wimps, but burning beacons of raw sexuality—this means passionate blood-heating, violent bloodletting, and fangy
bloodsucking. Oh, and cheese balls. Those things are just scary.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Biting Nixie:

“We might as well go, Nixie. Since the bands can’t audition tonight.”

“Yeah, but when? I need to audition the bands like
yesterday
. The festival’s less than two weeks away!”

“You’ll find a time, I’m sure.” Julian dragged me out the door of the
Kosmopolitisch
. The moonlight etched his flared nostrils and sharp eyes.

“What,” I said as he dragged me down the street.

His eyes were so intense they must have pierced every shadow. When he answered, he sounded distracted. “What, what?”

“You’re doing your Elmer Fudd imitation. Do you think the lights-out
wasn’t
because Cary didn’t pay his electric bills?”

His eyes closed briefly, as if in pain. “Do you ever speak a known language? Sanskrit, perhaps?”

“Look, it’s a simple enough question—”

I was interrupted by another streetlamp blowing a bulb. The sharp pop made me jump. “What is it with these cheap-ass lights? Or did Meiers Corners forget to pay its electric bill, too?”

Julian’s fingers tightened on my elbow. “Don’t blame the city.” The hunter face was back in spades. His eyes were bright violet and he was working his jaw like he tasted something nasty. “Apparently some people don’t know a warning when they hear it.”

Four figures swirled out of the dark. Three long coats and a suit.

Julian inclined his head toward them. “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice dark and thorny.

If I thought by his calm nod he was being all friendly, that dangerous tone would have clued me otherwise. That, and the fact that he was grinding my elbow into powder with his tight grip.

“Emerson.” The lead suit greeted him cautiously.

“Did you deliver my message to your bosses already?” Julian was the epitome of cool. He could have been at a Victorian tea party, asking

“one lump or two”.

The suit shrugged. “We phoned it in.”

“It doesn’t have the same impact if they didn’t see my…little gift.”

“We took a picture.” One of the leathercoats held up a cell phone.

At least Julian wasn’t so digitally challenged that he didn’t recognize a camera phone. “Ah. And their response?”

The suit shrugged again. “You die.”

“So you waited until I was alone.”

“Hey,” I objected.

“Yes.” The suit smiled. And his canines were
really
long.

I leaned closer to Julian. “Four of them, two of us,” I said under my breath. “We’ll have a better chance with a plan. You take the toothy Lupin, I’ll take the left coat.” But as I started to move, something tugged my head forward, and the lights went out.

I was suddenly blind. Couldn’t see a damn thing.

Fighting down panic, I realized something covered my head. Something clingy and soft. At least I hadn’t had a stroke. Struggling with the thing, I realized it was some sort of cloth. A sack? A hood?

Growling and snarling slashed the air around me. It sounded like a pack of ravenous dogs. I had to do something. But how could I fight without my sight?

A couple quick little snicks were followed by a deeper
ka-click
.

And I realized I could fight—with my ears! I swung both fists. Hit
nothing
.

In front of me came a sound uncomfortably like meat tearing. I flailed at it, again swiping air.

And then came that terrible, awful sound I hoped never to hear again. Wet plopping. Blood, spattering onto the pavement.

Inside my restraint, I gasped for breath. I had to see! I reached for my face but a roar startled me into falling on my ass. The voice was Julian—

if Julian had eaten a lion. What the hell was going on? Frantically, I tore at the cloth over my face. It wouldn’t come off.

My fingers hit some lumps in the stuff. Gathers, like a tie in a channel of cloth.

It was my hoodie! My own freaking hoodie. I traced down until I found the laces. They were knotted tight.

Blindly I picked at the knot. Around me were sounds of a fierce fight. Four against one. I could only imagine the beating poor paper-pushing Julian was taking. If only I could help! The knot loosened but refused to come free. In impotent fury I jerked at the hood, as if I could rip it open.

The cloth remained stubbornly whole.

The sound of fighting died away. What was going on now? Was Julian down? Was he…no, he couldn’t be dead. Julian Emerson, Super Suitguy, was too damn arrogant to be dead.

But it was so silent. What else was I to think? And what would happen to me if Julian was…down?

Hands came around my waist. I went ballistic, hitting and scratching with no finesse at all. Strong fingers grabbed my wrists, restraining me.

Arms wrapped around me like steel bands. Lifted me. Caught me tight to an immense chest. My legs curled automatically around a lean waist.

My fight died. Strong fingers, steely arms, concrete wall chest. I recognized these body parts. And the oh-so-lean waist. Panic flamed into instant desire. I tightened my legs, snuggling my crotch up good and close.

Well, hello. Someone was
very
glad to see me.

“Nixie.” Julian’s voice. But not his usual cultured drawl. No, this voice was tight and strained. The kind of voice you got when all your blood drained from your vocal cords to your baseball-bat-sized cock. Ooh, he really did carry foot-long things in his clothes. I rubbed my hips against Mr.

Big Gavel. That drew more blood down. “Nixie,” he said again, even more strained. I found I
liked
Julian’s voice all stiff and growly.

“Stop that. I’m trying to untie your hood.”

Damn. Aroused, but in control of himself. How disappointing.

In my dark cave, I blinked.
Disappointing?
No way. I was not
disappointed
that Julian Emerson, stodgy old hoag, was not interested in me.