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

  But even as he raced through the house, he knew she was gone. Her scent had aged, was drifting away.

  Kamaria waited for them in the patio that led to the beach. She leaned against a wall, her hands braced against the stones. “She is gone.”

  Dylan cut a glance to Emmy. “We leave now.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Quentin said.

  “But you can’t,” Kamaria reminded him.

  “You would let them leave and gain ground on Darcy?”

  “Why should I care whether they find her first? Besides, your Darcy is crafty. She will not be found until she’s ready.”

  “She’s still dazed, just recovering.”

  “Different, don’t you mean? Enhanced.”

  Dylan grunted. “Quentin, we’ve been friends a long time. Listen to me now. Stay here. Let us do what must be done.”

  Quentin trembled, feeling helpless, caged. Wanting to follow, but knowing the consequences would be too great. He knew full well that Darcy was still in danger from his friends, but especially from his bitch of an ex. “Don’t harm her, Dylan. If you find her, hold her. But please God, don’t hurt her. We don’t know. Not for sure. You saw her.”

  Dylan’s jaw tightened. “I saw her turn into a wolf, answer a primordial call and change without hesitation. You know as well as I do that chances are this will end badly.”

  “Promise you won’t harm her, not until I’ve had a chance to get there. If this does end badly as you believe, I would be with her.”

  “What is it you are staying to do, Quentin?” Emmy asked, her glance going to Kamaria. “Just what sort of devil’s bargain have you made?”

  “Yes, tell them what you agreed to do, Quen-tin,” Kamaria said, her face canting. “Tell your friends how you’ve pleasured me with your second wife just doors away.”

  “You fucked the bitch?” Emmy said, her face screwing up with disgust.

  Quentin felt heat climb over her face. “She helped me. Brought me to Darcy. Brought her back.”

  “You’re a fool,” Dylan said, although his voice was less cutting.

  Maybe he understood.

  “I’m in love,” Quentin said, staring at his best friend. “Tell me you wouldn’t do anything, any goddamn thing you could think of to save your Em.”

  Dylan sighed. “You’re right. I would. But I’d expect you to follow through. If I have to, because I’m your friend, I will destroy you, too.”

  Quentin watched as Dylan led Emmy away, hurrying down the beach. A hand stroked his back, sliding up to pull at his hair. “Your promise.”

  Quentin hung his head, wishing he had the strength, the power to destroy the witch, because he knew he had to hold to his promise. He’d pleasure her, this time without reluctance, give her everything he’d bargained away. His pride, his fidelity. But when he was done, he would never look back, never enter her dark, twisted sphere again. “How do you want it?”

  When he raised his eyes, his stomach knotted hard. She stood in front of him, but she wasn’t wearing her own beautiful but sinister face, she wore Darcy’s.

  “Fucking bitch! Change back.”

  Darcy’s—no, Kamaria’s masked face—tilted in just the way his beloved wife’s always had whenever she got stubborn.

  Quentin quivered with rage for a long tense moment, knowing he’d lose this standoff. And what the hell did it matter if the bitch wanted to play games? Did she think wearing another woman’s face would make him want her more?

  But, Jesus, it was working. His body hardened instantly. He’d resisted wanting her before, resented every part of her attempts at seduction. Still, hadn’t he promised to give her pleasure and vowed he’d give it willingly?

  So maybe he would pretend, would think back to happier times, even if was a betrayal of the woman he loved, the woman he might never have again.

  One corner of her mouth lifted in smirk. She’d read his mind, knew exactly when he’d conceded the battle. I’ll fuck that smirk off your face.

  He strode for her, keeping his face deliberately blank, walking so close she took a step backward before she caught herself and lifted that chin, Darcy’s chin, higher.

  Quentin raised his hands and slid them around her waist, rubbing his palms downward and clutching her backside to jerk her closer. Her breath left in a trembling gasp, but she raised her face.

  He stared into her eyes, trying to see the woman inside, trying to look past the familiar doe brown to see the hard, cold gleam of Kamaria’s, but she was good. He’d always known that. Always underestimated her.

  And because he was hungry to connect with Darcy, had been beaten down with guilt and regret, had suffered pain upon pain, he bent his head and kissed her more gently than he should have, teasing her lips to open beneath his, then surging inside to claim her, because, dammit, she tasted like his wife.

  Darcy was his life, his center, the only reason he stood here, still alive.

  Grateful now that Kamaria had given him this gift, even unknowingly, he embraced her, groaning deep in his throat and gripping her ass to lift her from the ground.

  Her legs encircled his hips, and he strode into the house, passing Adrian whose brows lifted then settled into a dark scowl, past the bedroom where he’d slept, to the one that still held Darcy’s scent.

  He climbed onto the mattress with Kamaria still clutched close and lay over her, rubbing his thickening cock against her center and deepening the kiss to stroke her tongue with his, rotating his mouth to suck at her lips and claim the deep recess of her mouth again and again until they were both breathless.

  Only then did he pull back. Kneeling between her legs, he stripped away his clothes then hers, until naked, he had to cover her, had to claim her warm, melting sex.

  He forgot he should woo her, should pleasure her, seeking only his own satisfaction as he aimed straight toward her core with a thrust so powerful her back arched and the air left her lungs in strong gust that warmed his neck.

  But she didn’t ask him to slow down, didn’t shove at his chest as he began the steady, sliding thrusts that eased and intensified the tension riding his body, tightening his balls.

  Again and again, he slammed against the cradle of her sex, felt moisture envelop him, rush to meet him. The wet slapping only calmed his heart, filled his ears with a pleasurable rhythmic drumbeat that grew louder, more insistent with each passing moment, each powerful stroke.

  He gathered his knees beneath him, needing to be deeper, needing to spear toward her heart, and hammered so fast, so hard the bed shuddered, legs jumping across the tiles and the headboard thumping loudly against the plaster.

  Until at last, a rush of ecstasy swept through him, carrying him high. He shut his eyes and issued a deep, sobbing moan, pressing his mouth against her cheek as his hips slowed, and he emptied himself deep inside her.

  Long nails raked his back, and he stiffened, jerking back his head to find Kamaria’s face beneath him. Not gloating as he expected. Her expression was softened; her eyes gleamed with moisture.

  “I would have loved you forever,” she said, her voice suspiciously ragged.

  “You never loved me. You chained me, trapped me with lust. I was never given a choice.”

  “And if I had seduced you without magic?”

  “We’ll never know, will we?” He pulled free and rolled to his back beside her. “Let me gain my breath. I didn’t bring you to a screaming orgasm,” he said, suddenly tired.

  “It was enough,” she said, her voice soft, distant.

  He gave her a sharp glance. “This isn’t a trick? I’m free?”

  “Go.”

  He jackknifed to sit beside her, wanting to run, but still unsure. Something about her stillness bothered him. “Kamaria…I can’t…hate you. Not anymore.”

  “Because I brought your lover back?”

  “Because I’m not the same man I was. I think I’ve learned that not everything is black and white. Not good or evil. That we make choices, and sometimes we make
the wrong ones.”

  “I grieved for you. And I did regret entrapping you. I regret…hurting you…in the woods.”

  He grimaced, remembering his helplessness. But he understood her need to lash out. “I believe you.”

  “You should leave now.”

  Quentin stilled beside her. “You asked me to entertain a request. Something beyond our agreement. I haven’t much time, but I’ll listen.”

  She sat up, and her eyes widened. She seemed…fearful…an emotion he’d never have imagined her owning. Kamaria swallowed then closed her eyes.

  The door to the bedroom opened. Adrian stepped inside, glanced at them lying on the bed side by side. His expression shuttered, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Kamaria, why did you call me?”

  Quentin glared at the other man then turned to the woman beside him, who eyed him with trepidation, seeming suddenly younger and strangely vulnerable. “Quen-tin, I want you to take Adrian with you.”

  Adrian’s arms dropped, and his face screwed up into a fierce scowl. His blue eyes flashed. “I won’t leave you. You need me.”

  “I managed well before you. And I won’t be alone for long.”

  Quentin shrugged, not really caring whether her boy toy came or not. His mind was already racing after Darcy. “He doesn’t seem all that eager. Are you sure?”

  Kamaria blew a long breath between her pursed lips then nodded. “A son should know his father.”

  *

  Vero Beach, Florida

  Darcy left the rental car a quarter mile from the compound’s gates. She’d thought about how she’d orchestrate this confrontation since she’d taken her seat in coach on the airplane and pondered the many scenarios that might play out.

  Foremost among her concerns was how to live long enough to convince Navarro she deserved a chance. The best way was to prove to him that she had control, that her will was indomitable. She would find her son.

  Darcy left the road, deciding to approach the mansion from the beach. Strolling along the stretch of pale sand, she listened to the water lapping as the tide rolled in, felt the pull of the moon, tugging at her soul.

  The urge was certainly there to shake out her hair and run wild. The second urge, the one she hadn’t noticed inside her when she’d stood among the vampires, had leapt front and center when she’d been surrounded by living, breathing, blood-swollen creatures on the plane. The scent of the nectar flowing through their veins had made her nearly mindless until she’d decided to give in to the impulse, but as discreetly as she could.

  Remembering how Joe Garcia had acted during his first bloodlust, the harrowing need for blood and insatiable lust, she’d studied the passengers surrounding her until she’d discovered that she hadn’t been so subtle. One woman in particular had reacted to her stare. Her cheeks flamed, a leg crossed atop another bare thigh, scissored steadily, only it hadn’t been out of annoyance.

  Darcy knew she was aroused as surely as she did that the woman had used a peach-scented body wash. Her heartbeat fluttered, blood spilling through her veins, swelling her sex with a luscious heat that wafted the scent of her arousal around the cabin. How any red-blooded man around the woman hadn’t noticed, well…they were only stupid humans.

  Darcy had risen from her seat and slipped into the empty one beside the woman, turned off the overhead light, then sat angled toward the woman whose blue eyes rounded, but who didn’t seem opposed to the company.

  Darcy smiled and leaned close. “You smell amazing,” she whispered, drawing in the woman’s ripening aroma and letting her eyelids drift half closed.

  The woman’s leg rocked faster.

  Darcy placed a hand on her knee, uncaring if anyone around them noticed. Most were sleeping anyway, she could tell without looking from the sleep sounds they all made.

  The man across the aisle wasn’t. His breath had caught and held, and Darcy smiled again because she knew he wouldn’t utter a sound to alert the two women that he watched.

  Feeling powerful, sexier than she ever had in her life, she’d leaned her head against the chair and turned the woman’s face toward hers with her thumb. “I’d love to eat you,” she said softly.

  The woman’s eyelids dipped, and she stared at Darcy’s mouth. “Someone would see.”

  “I know. It’s why I’ll just kiss you.”

  The woman’s lips curved slightly, her gaze was interested. Awareness tugged the nipples pressed against her thin cotton blouse into taut little points.

  “Wonder what I’ll kiss?” Darcy locked glances with the other woman, knowing instinctively she held her spellbound. The woman couldn’t have broken the stare if she’d wanted to.

  Darcy dropped her hand to the woman’s breast and toggled the swelling nipple with a fingertip. She leaned forward, and the woman’s mouth opened, her tongue peeking between her lips. Darcy kissed her, stroking that pink tip with her own tongue and rushing inward to taste her.

  She’d drunk a cola. The acidic sweetness lingered in her mouth. Darcy stroked twice along her tongue then suckled her lips, trying to keep the moist sounds muffled, but enjoying it too much to care. Heat and blood were too close, too tempting. “Give me your neck.”

  The woman moaned and tilted her head, and Darcy licked her, finding the pulse beneath her skin. She angled her head, let her teeth begin their downward slide, but realized her mouth didn’t feel quite right. She wanted to shake her head, let fur sprout, slash at tender skin until it opened, parting like a zipper.

  She sank her forehead against the woman’s shoulder and concentrated, letting just enough tooth slide down, then tensing to halt the growth. No need to overdo. She could do this. Could maintain the beast lurking inside.

  She sank a single fang into the woman’s tender neck, ignoring her sharp gasp, then latched her lips around the wound and drank.

  Because she struggled, Darcy stuck her hand beneath the woman’s short skirt and scraped upward, thrusting fingers between her legs and stroking her moist sex until she muttered restlessly and began to rock against Darcy’s hand.

  The woman stopped trying to escape, moaning softly and gripping her shoulder to hold Darcy.

  Shhh. Shhh. I won’t harm you. Let me have this.

  The woman nodded as though she heard, and maybe she had. Darcy grabbed the hand clenched around the corner of her shoulder and shoved it downward, working it under the hem of her long skirt until her slim fingers touched her own pussy.

  Darcy eased open her thighs, and the woman slid her fingers underneath the elastic of her panties to touch her.

  My clit. Work my clit. I’ll make you come. Do the same for me.

  Every motion of Darcy’s fingers was mirrored by the woman’s. Together, they stroked between damp, silky folds then circled upward to tease their clits.

  Sensual tension shuddered through the woman. Their heartbeats quickened.

  Darcy sucked the salty, copper-tinged blood, loving the feel of the thick, hot liquid spilling down her throat. She trembled, wanting so badly to tear open the artery to increase the flow and surrender to her hunger, but she kept a leash on her desire, taking only so much until she felt the woman begin to swoon.

  She lapped at the wound on her neck and closed the puncture, kissed her neck, licked her ear, her jaw, until the woman turned her head and claimed her lips.

  Darcy pumped against the woman’s greedy fingers and thrust her own deep into the redhead’s cunt, swirling, stroking until her body vibrated, sending Darcy’s into a spiral of completion that left her dazed and breathing hard.

  When they both pulled away their hands, they leaned their heads against their seats and stared into each other’s eyes. “Did I please you?” Darcy asked.

  The woman nodded.

  “Are you frightened?”

  She shook her head. “My name’s Deb. Can I see you again?”

  Darcy grinned. “We’ve had a watcher,” she whispered then looked over her shoulder at the man whose hand rode an erection tenting his dark trous
ers.

  Deb laughed softly. “Take him.”

  Darcy smiled at the memory of how she’d crossed the aisle to take the seat beside him and wrapped her hand around his thick cock. The rasp of his beard against her face as she kissed him, still burned her cheeks. He’d been delicious. So excited he’d come the second she’d pierced his neck.

  But she’d fed her belly. Fed the beast. And now she felt strong. More certain of her ability to keep the maddening bloodlust at bay.

  And if she’d had a moment’s concern that she’d betrayed Quentin, she reminded herself that he’d given so much more to the witch, his first wife.

  Morning broke on the horizon, limning the ocean’s edge with gold. She picked up her pace, knowing she didn’t have any more time to think. She was only a hundred yards from the compound’s patio entrance when she caught the scent of wolf.

  Darcy didn’t bother trying to sneak up to the walls, she stood at the edge of the surf in sight of the men guarding the compound. While they leaned to speak into the mikes at their shoulders and more poured through the gate, she lifted her dress over her head, dropped her panties in the water and shook out her hair.

  The change came instantly this time, the pain less than she’d felt the first time in her dream world. Weapons lifted, aimed her way, and she leaned back against her haunches then launched, landing twenty feet away, and racing toward the tall concrete walls. Bullets peppered the ground, raising sand, but she zigzagged, moving so quickly, they didn’t have to time to adjust—and then she was leaping, clearing the tall thick wall and landing on the manicured lawn. French doors on the ground floor were opened, an invitation to death, but she wasn’t trying to stay alive, her goal was to impress Navarro—with her courage, with her control. So she ran straight for the gaping doorway and halted, giving the people waiting there a full view of her body, head to tail, the largest target possible.

  Then she transformed, shaking back her hair and standing proudly nude. Navarro and Joe stood weaponless. More wolves in SWAT gear aimed down the long barrels of their rifles.

  “Do you really want blood splattered in this room? You’ll upset Lily,” she said, directing her comment to Joe who had loved her once and fathered her child.