Truly, Madly...Werely (Night Fall Book 9) Read online

  Her lips pursed, and her glance slid covetously over him.

  Quentin’s body tightened in rejection of her possessive gaze, but bit his tongue against the acidic retort he wanted to lash her with. Tread carefully, he reminded himself.

  Instead, he attempted to deflect her attention. “Must he be here?” he asked, jerking his head toward the young man who appeared to dance attendance to the bitch.

  “When I begin the spell, I may have need of him to pull us back if we stray too far or long.”

  “I won’t pretend to understand what the hell you mean,” Quentin growled.

  Her smile didn’t reassure him. “You don’t need to know anything—only this—follow my voice. Other…sounds, may draw your attention, but don’t heed them. I will lead you to her.”

  Quentin swallowed. “Will she know me in this place?”

  Kamaria shrugged. “That will be entirely her choice.”

  He tightened his jaw. “I’ll follow you.”

  Kamaria’s gaze slid to the other man. Her expression softened instantly. “Adrian, pull away the coverings from the bed.”

  Adrian aimed a chilly glare at Quentin but stepped toward the end of the bed and gently drew away the blanket and sheet covering Darcy, leaving her lying on a crisp white, fitted sheet in only a thin nightgown.

  Kamaria laid her bundle on the bed beside Darcy and slowly unwrapped it. She extracted four fat brown candles and four shallow dishes then closed her eyes. Her soft, lush lips moved as she began her whispered incantation.

  The air inside the room cooled. A breeze filtered through the curtains at the windows, catching the hem of Kamaria’s long shapeless silk gown, then licking at Adrian’s hair before swirling around Quentin and Darcy.

  Quentin shivered, and his heartbeat quickened. Already, he felt the charged electric spark of her magic, heard the crackle of it as the breeze strengthened then suddenly died away.

  Kamaria placed small plates at Darcy’s head and feet then two more beside her hands. She set the candles on top of each one. Then she unwrapped a long matchstick and scraped it against a roughened flint, striking sparks until it flared brightly. She lit each candle, first the one above Darcy’s head, the one at her feet, then the ones beside her hands. The wicks burned quickly then slowly melted the wax, which hissed as it heated.

  “Pig fat infused with herbs,” she explained. “It will hiss and spark while it burns. We don’t want the bed catching fire. Another reason Adrian must be here to keep watch.”

  Next Kamaria drew out an ivory pipe and a small plastic bag filled with dried plant matter.

  Quentin raised his eyebrows.

  Kamaria smiled. “Peyote and marijuana. For you. To ease you into a trance.”

  “Neither has much effect on me. Tell me, is this all you have in your bag of tricks? My vampire metabolism—”

  “Added to my magic, this will help me draw you deep into her dream world.” She lifted one black eyebrow. “Why do you doubt me when I have never lied to you?”

  Quentin drew a deep breath. “I will trust you in this.”

  “You should have trusted me in all things, Quen-tin. I never intended you any harm. Not before.”

  “You tricked me,” he bit out. “You used your sorcery to blind me to what was happening as you turned me. You enslaved me with your witchcraft—”

  “I shared everything I had to give—body, soul, magic, and blood. I would have made you powerful beyond your imagination if you had stayed.”

  “After you sucked away my free will?”

  “What did you do with your free will that you could not have accomplished with me? You whored and drank your way through Europe after you left me.”

  “Only until I found a friend who gave me a purpose. And at last, I found a woman I could love without any magical aid.”

  Her shrug said she didn’t get his point. “You place too much importance on the means.”

  “I wouldn’t surrender my soul to the beast within me. You tried to leash him, used him to hold me to you—fed his appetites to the point he overwhelmed the man who remained inside me. I couldn’t stay and still retain the essence of who I was.”

  She grunted. “Yet look at where you sit now. Across from the witch, the demon who made you, begging for her help.”

  “I’m asking you to do what’s right,” he said slowly, trying one more time to reason with her. “To help someone helpless and undeserving of her fate.”

  “You think I should do this to save my soul, don’t you?” She canted her head, staring intently into his eyes. “Or are you trying to save yours?”

  Quentin sat back, feeling as though he’d been struck. “I don’t do this for me,” he said hoarsely, but wondering if he lied to himself.

  “You do this for the woman? Will she be happy when she awakens?”

  “Perhaps, not happy with me. She’ll be beside herself not knowing what happened to her child.”

  “Again, you claim no relationship with this child. How interesting I find that. Did she know you resented it?”

  “I didn’t resent it,” he said quickly.

  “But you resent him—the one who gave her what you could not.”

  Quentin didn’t answer. What she said was true. Since the moment he’d discovered Joe Garcia had fucked her, impregnated her with his human seed before he was turned, Quentin had fought the envy growing like a cancer inside him.

  He loved Darcy with all his heart and wanted every part of her for his own. He hadn’t liked knowing Joe would be in their lives forever.

  “Smoke the pipe, Quen-tin,” Kamaria said softly. “Let the narcotic fill your mind. I will add my own enhancement to ensure you sink deep into your vision. However, I fear the experience will not be pleasant. Your demons will greet you first.”

  “I’m not afraid. You don’t understand. I would walk through hell to be with her.”

  “Hold tight to that thought. You just might.”

  *

  Dylan O’Hara gritted his teeth as his wife squeezed her inner muscles and slowly sank on his cock.

  Almost as interesting as her inner gymnastics was the expression she wore. Intense, turned inward, her white teeth nibbling her plump lower lip—she looked as though she studied a complicated equation.

  “What are you thinking about?” he growled.

  “I’m considering all the things you haven’t told me about this little mission—and wondering how best to torture the truth out of you.” A slim blonde eyebrow lifted, and her hazel gaze narrowed. She snuggled her thighs closer to his hips and rose, nearly coming off his dick.

  “I haven’t kept a thing from you,” he lied. “There just wasn’t time, what with packing and prepping for the flight—”

  Emmy slammed down his cock then wriggled to close in on the last inch or two her cunt hadn’t yet enveloped. “You poked your head in the bedroom door, shouted for me to pack for a warm climate, then disappeared until the limo came around to pick us and the suitcases up. You were avoiding me.”

  His hands closed around her fleshy buttocks, and he lifted her, forcing her up then down, not allowing her the freedom to torture him with another of her slow glides. He pumped her up and down, hoping to reach his climax fast so he could think, and knowing he had only to help her creep toward her own before her mind became completely consumed with her pleasure.

  Emmy was a true hedonist. Sex was her greatest pleasure.

  Followed closely by organ meats and pizza delivery men.

  “Oh. My. Gaawwd!” Emmy flung back her head and rubbed her breasts on his chest, jouncing vigorously on his lap as her channel rippled up and down his shaft.

  “That’s it, darlin’,” he crooned, watching her face contort in ecstasy.

  Then his own orgasm ripped through him, sucking the air from his lungs. He kept her forcefully thrusting onto him, her silken pussy consuming and surrendering his cock until she hung limply in his embrace, her forehead nodding toward his shoulder.

  Only th
en did he let the air whistle between his teeth as his balls emptied, seed spurting warmly in pulsing surges against her cervix.

  Emmy wrapped her arms around his shoulders and cuddled deeper against his chest, a low throaty groan reverberating along his neck. After several long, gasping breaths, she cleared her throat. “So, sweet thing, what haven’t you told me?”

  Dylan’s embrace tightened, knowing it was time to level with her. She deserved to know the entire truth of their mission.

  Soon after they’d boarded Navarro’s jet, he’d dismissed the attendants, appealing to Emmy’s lustful nature to distract her from asking too many questions. They’d sated their passions twice already, but he couldn’t put off the hard news he had to impart a moment longer.

  Emmy sat up, which forced his waning erection deeper. She gave him another wicked glance and swiped at the soft, blonde wisps that stuck to her moist cheeks. Then her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Baby, I love you, but you do know we’re both going to have to bathe in that teeny-weeny bathroom before we deplane.”

  “I’ll just have the attendants bring us complimentary washcloths—dampened and warmed.”

  Emmy’s mouth slid into a sly smile. “Will you let the cute one do the honors? I’m a little stiff.”

  “If Carlo even gets a glimpse at what needs washing, I’ll spank you.”

  Her grin widened. “Promises, promises…”

  Dylan felt a heavy ache settle inside his chest. With her sweet face hovering just above his, her lips still moist from his kisses, he knew just how lucky he was.

  Emmy’s gaze remained a little unfocused, as it tended to be long after her orgasms slammed through her. Their bodies were still joined since she refused to release his cock from her ferociously gripping cunt. Emmy loved basking in the afterglow and only reluctantly, sometimes petulantly, let him ease her away.

  “You know,” she whispered. “I could do Kegels until you come again. Squeeze you like a tube of toothpaste with my vaginal muscles.”

  Dylan felt a smile tug at his lips. “From which end?”

  Her snort was lazy and hinted at the bone-deep satisfaction that kept her body pliant, if not her mouth, which began to tighten. “It’s amazing the superpowers I’m discovering inside myself.”

  “Always had a hankering for a pussy of steel?”

  She shot him a glare. “It’s better than Wonder Woman’s golden lasso for forcing the truth from a man.”

  “Squeeze me like that again, and I’ll lose the ability to speak.”

  “I’m squeezing your cock, not your vocal cords, darling.”

  “You’re squeezing the only part of me that can think at the moment.”

  Her inner muscles relaxed around him, but the rush of liquid heat that surrounded him didn’t bode well for their ability to continue the conversation. Dylan grasped her by the waist and lifted his hips, spearing deep one last time, rocking his hips to give her sheath a side-to-side caress, then he lifted her off his cock. He sat her sideways across his lap.

  Emmy’s lush mouth pouted. “You sure know how to spoil a girl’s fun.”

  “You wanted to talk.”

  “I did. I do.” She sighed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Tell me now. What’s this secret mission we’re undertaking all about?”

  Dylan sighed and tipped her chin to lock his gaze with hers. “This may be the hardest thing I will ever ask of you.”

  Emmy’s eyes widened. “You’re frightening me.”

  “I’m pretty terrified myself.”

  Her expression grew troubled. “Does this have to do with Quentin?”

  Dylan closed his eyes for a long moment then opened them to find Emmy’s eyes already filling with tears. “Yes, baby. And Darcy.”

  Her gaze slid away, and her lips trembled. “Lily, Pia, and I have been wondering…” she said, her voice thickening, “if it was possible…that Quentin tried to turn her…”

  “Navarro and Joe think that’s just what he did.”

  “Pia said it would be no use.”

  “If she’s still alive when the full moon rises…”

  “She’ll become a wolf…with a vampire’s blood.” She swallowed hard. “Pia said she’d be worse than a rabid beast.”

  Dylan couldn’t reply. His throat was too tight to force out his agreement.

  Emmy’s chin lifted. Anguish lay in the darkening hazel of her gaze. “She’s my best friend, Dylan. Are we going there to destroy her?” His nod sent tears rolling down her cheeks. “Then why did you bring me?”

  Dylan combed his fingers through her hair and forced her head to his shoulder. “Because I don’t want to lose Quentin too,” he whispered.

  Chapter Five

  ‡

  Quentin’s head swam. Every breath, every heartbeat thundered in his ears. Still the buzz wasn’t unpleasant, neither was the sickly sweet flavor of the smoke he pulled into his lungs.

  “Adrian, take the pipe before he sets the bed on fire.”

  Kamaria’s voice, laced with dark amusement, filtered through his mind. Setting aside the pipe, he met her avid gaze. The smile that crimped her full lips gave him a moment’s pause.

  Then he remembered. He needed to be cautious. She was likely laying some sort of trap for him here. However, the narcotics sweeping through his blood made it impossible to hold that thought, any thought, for longer than a second.

  She’d handed him the pipe and told him he must use the drugs to enter a trance.

  To save Darcy. That was it.

  He laid a hand on the mattress, nearly upsetting the hissing candle the witch had lit beside Darcy’s hand. When he tried to move his hand away, he discovered he couldn’t.

  Suddenly, the hand and the arm attached to it weren’t his to command. And he was drawing away from his arm, away from the pale, blond man seated beside Darcy’s still body. Floating toward the ceiling.

  Below him, Kamaria seated herself on the opposite side of the bed and closed her eyes. Adrian, her assistant, crossed his arms over her chest, his expression losing the hard edge of anger that had sculpted his features every time he’d entered Quentin’s presence.

  Quentin could no longer hear his heart, couldn’t feel his breaths. He hovered near the ceiling then suddenly passed through it, floating upward toward a dark, starless night.

  There you are… Kamaria said, in her melodic voice. Are you ready?

  Ready for what? he asked, the words elongating, twisting, as though his tongue couldn’t wrap around them, but he didn’t speak with his mouth and vocal cords. His words simply existed. Would she be able to hear every thought that crossed his mind?

  Why so alarmed, Quen-tin? We have no secrets here. Laughter drifted around him.

  Without a body to anchor him, he wondered how he felt the chill her soft chuckles elicited. Then again, how could he see? But he could. Only the world around them as they rose higher was painted in shades of gray and black.

  The house, the beach, the glistening waves below, all drew farther away as he felt himself pulled along in her wake.

  Where are we going?

  To find your love. But first we must enter the darkness.

  Before he had a chance to even form a question, their ascent slowed, and then they rapidly lost altitude, spinning as they fell. Wind whistled past in an eerie whine. Grays swirled like liquid in a blender. When the whirling slowed, the ground beneath them approached at an alarming speed.

  They touched down together, and Kamaria, corporeal again, stepped past him in her flowing gown.

  Glancing down, he found he too had a body again and lifted a foot experimentally, then gaining confidence he could follow, planted his feet carefully, one step at a time through tall silver-tipped grass, the tips waving in an insistent breeze.

  As he took in the dark world he’d entered, he cupped his palms and let the silvery grass tickle his hands. The moon above him was impossibly large and bright. Thick clouds circled it, draping the edges of its bright surface, but never crossi
ng its pitted face. A dark thicket of trees, bare limbs like spindly, aged fingers stretched in front of him.

  Kamaria reached out to caress the trunk of a tree at the edge of the woods and looked over her shoulder, a smile curving her lips.

  As he entered the thicket, a rasp of static electricity lifted the hairs on his arms and at the back of his neck. Darkness deepened around him. His footfalls sounded overloud in the stillness as dried leaves crunched beneath his shoes.

  Kamaria moved more quickly now, her gown a pale glimmer against the stygian darkness.

  Wait for me, he called out, but she didn’t slow. Fighting a lethargy that entered his limbs, he increased his pace.

  Suddenly, he crossed from the woods into a clearing. Moonlight, splintered by the trees, shone onto a small circular field. A figure sat on a carved bench in the center of the clearing, draped in a veil of thin, luminescent gauze. The slender body bent at the waist, arms folding over her belly.

  “Darcy?” he whispered as he paused at the edge of the dark wood.

  A quick darting glance around showed no signs of Kamaria. He remembered her warning to stay close, but dismissed the thought just as quickly as it entered his mind, and took a step closer to the woman in the pale robe.

  Suddenly, something wrapped around his arms, looping around his forearms, streaming upward to encircle his chest and neck, and then his legs, holding him immobilized. He strained against them, glancing down to find thin, ropelike vines twined around him.

  Something scraped the edge of his jaw. “Quen-tin…did I not tell you to keep me in sight?” Kamaria whispered into his ear.

  “Is that Darcy?” he asked, his gaze on the woman in the glowing veil.

  “She waits. But not for you.”

  “Can she see me?”

  “If she opens her mind to you, then yes.”

  Something painful twisted inside his chest. Darcy was here. Within reach. “Free me from these vines. I have to speak to her.”

  She walked around him, trailing her fingers along his chest, scratching hard enough to sting through his clothing. “Someone isn’t pleased.”