 
Hearts Aflame Collection V: 4-Book Bundle

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Copyright © 2014 by Melissa F. Hart. All rights reserved worldwide.

No part of this book may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior written consent of the author/publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

http://www.melissafhart.com/

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Table of Contents

Eye of the Beholder

L - Chapter One

L - Chapter Two

L - Chapter Three

L - Chapter Four

Delylah Fayre - Part 1

My Only Safe Place

The Secrets of Longfellow Castle

V - Chapter One

V - Chapter Two

V - Chapter Three

V - Chapter Four

V - Chapter Five

V - Chapter Six

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Eye of the Beholder

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Synopsis

Apple Muldoon is an artist who has fought her way tooth and nail out of a difficult time, and finally, she has achieved the skill and the recognition to show her work at one of the finest art galleries in Colossal City. At the gallery showing, she rubs shoulders with some of the city's best and brightest, including members of the city's superhero force, but the person who commands all her attention is the handsome caterer who introduces himself as Alexius Bellaron.

After a charged encounter, Apple cannot believe what she is feeling, but she would have a harder time believing that the man she spoke to was the last alien prince of a destroyed planet!

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Chapter One

Apple Muldoon stared into the eyes of the wolf, and she took a deep breath, drawing herself up to her full five-foot height.

"All right," she said. "Let's do this."

The wolf she spoke to was a metal sculpture almost eight feet high. Formed from twists of shining steel and wrought iron, it was enormous and menacing, an alien predator that glared out at the world from two bright green eyes of blown glass. It was an imposing piece of art, but Apple touched its cold nose with confidence, gaining strength from it as she had throughout the year she had spent working on it.

"Miss Muldoon? The first guests are coming in..."

She nodded at the gallery manager, tugging at her green velvet gown self-consciously. She had done showings before, of course, but most of them were student affairs where she had been able to wear the jeans and loose peasant tops that were her uniform when she wasn't in the studio. Those events had been full of her friends and her colleagues, and when the gallery managed a cheese plate, it was a really big deal.

Now, as the first guests made their way through the enormous echoing space, painted in shades of pale green and gold especially for her art, she knew that she was far out of her depth. The Hillman Center for Fine Arts prided itself on showcasing promising visionaries and artists, and the people who entered to look at her art now were among Colossal City's prime movers and shakers. The handsome man inspecting her copper woman statue could be none other than Mayor Mike McIntyre himself, and Apple's eyes widened when an Amazonian woman with a fall of lavender hair came up behind him, linking her arm with his. They conversed quietly for a moment, and Apple felt slightly faint at the idea of Lynxonna, one of the heroes of the city, stopping to look at her work.

Apple was momentarily distracted by the gallery manager asking her a quick question, and when she turned around, it was to find the tall heroine striding up to her. Apple almost squeaked in surprise. She had seen the heroes' battles on television and countless YouTube videos, but there was something awe-inspiring about the alien woman in the flesh. She was a full half-head taller than her husband, and in a quiet corner of her mind that was not consumed by nerves, Apple longed to sculpt the broad line of her shoulders, the dramatic sweep of her hips and the fine arch of her brow. Metal wouldn't do it, but perhaps clay...

"Are you the creator?" Lynxonna demanded, and her voice, a low contralto, vibrated with command.

"Er... yes? I think... no, yes, I am the artist."

Lynxonna looked at her with narrowed eyes, then glanced at the copper woman statue again. It was an abstract form of a woman in mid-rising from a crouch and flinging herself forward. Apple had worked with martial artist friends to get the tension right, and she was rather proud of it.

"You don't look like a warrior," Lynxonna said finally. "That piece captures a warrior's spirit."

Apple started to stammer an explanation, of her friends Nidia and Laquesha who had tensed and leaped over and over again, laughing at her for her insistence on capturing just the right moment, but Lynxonna waved it away.

"Where I come from, no one but a warrior could capture such spirit, but you seem like a small thing."

Apple frowned at that and thrust her chin up. "And where I come from, it's rude to say that people can't do the things that they did."

Lynxonna looked momentarily taken aback, but by then, the mayor had caught up to her. Up close, he was a devastatingly handsome man with rather smooth good looks, but the smile he gave to his famous wife made his face come alive with love.

"Dear, I think you're scaring Ms. Muldoon. She's done amazing work; we should see all of it."

Lynxonna eyed Apple for another moment, and suddenly her face broke into a surprisingly sunny smile. "If I've offended, forgive, and if I am wrong about your warrior spirit, may you teach me better," she said. "Truly, your work is captures something that sings to me, and I must see more."

With nothing more than that, she took her husband by the arm and led him off to look at another piece. The mayor smiled at Apple, calling, "I'd like to talk with you again in a bit!"

Apple let out a deep breath and tried not to sag with relief. She couldn't imagine that many people got away with talking back to a woman who could lift and throw cars, but she had done it. The rest of the opening should be a piece of cake, comparatively.

Chapter Two

Two hours later, however, she began to think she would rather simply go one on one against the lavender-haired heroine instead of discussing her artistic vision one more time. She was growing dangerously close to telling them that she chose the materials because they were the least expensive and the most durable, the colors because she had loved them since she was a girl and that the symbolism was based on her favorite television show.

Slowly and carefully, Apple made her way to the buffet tables, where there was a delightful repast laid out. The Hillman Center spared no expense, but she quickly realized what she had before only feared. She was a small town girl who loved fast food and boxed mac and cheese. If she couldn't eat it out of her hand while drawing plans for a sculpture, she had never had much use for it.

The table was heavy with beautiful foods, cheeses she couldn't name and a tray of delicate breads that looked frail enough to shatter at a touch, and she didn't know how to eat a single bit of it. Apple glanced around at the dignitaries circulating through the gallery, and she knew that she couldn't embarrass herself in front of them. Hell, as confused as she was, she might pick up an inedible table decoration and try to eat it.

Regretfully, she started to turn away from the table, promising herself a stop at her favorite fast food drive-through as soon as the event was over, but then her stomach betrayed her with a loud rumble. Mortified, she looked up to see if anyone had caught her, but instead, all she heard were two soft giggles.

Apple spun and found herself confronted with two small girls. They both wore beautiful dresses that likely cost a month of Apple's rent, but where one girl was simply a pretty blonde, the other had soft purple hair pulled back in a French braid.

"You're hungry," the purple-haired girl pointed out. "There's food right there."

"It's... it's not that simple," Apple said, looking around nervously. Fortunately, they were in a sheltered place by a pillar, and no one could see her conversing with the two girls. She thought that they were perhaps six or seven, though they certainly could be no older.

"Of course it is," the purple-haired girl insisted. "If you're hungry, you should get to eat. Everyone knows that!"

The blonde girl tugged her friend's hand, shaking her head.

"I don't like to eat when other people are looking, sometimes," she said softly, and in that, Apple heard a little bit of her own anxiety. She herself was on the plump side, and enough rude comments about bigger girls daring to eat in public along with her anxiety about being able to manage the exotic cuisine made her cautious.

The purple-haired girl considered, and then nodded with the decisiveness of a born leader.

"Right. My name is Lynxienna, and this is Aurora. We're going find you some food that you'll like."

With nothing more than that, she seized one hand, Aurora seized the other, and they were off. Apple thought about fighting against her tiny kidnappers, but the thought of another circuit of the gallery, discussing her methods and her vision as she went, made her a willing captive.

They took her away from the main halls of the gallery, leading her down a few darkened passages. She was just beginning to get a little nervous about where they were taking her when they opened the door to reveal a plain kitchen area.

There were still quite a few trays to bring out, but what caught Apple's eye was the tall man in the tuxedo who was having an intense discussion with one of the servers. He turned away from the server, and Apple froze when their eyes met.

He had a pair of the most intense green eyes that she had ever seen, as clear a green as spring grass, and for a moment, pinned by his piercing look, she could barely speak. His features were too stern to be movie-star handsome, but there was a wild kind of beauty to his face. His hair was a deep chestnut, and when he took a step closer, she realized that he would tower over her.

"The kitchen is—"

He broke off when he saw the two little girls who had led her here.

"And what are you two scamps doing back here? Did you decide to see if there was any more mochi for you? I told you before that two mochi apiece was plenty for you two."

Lynxienna scoffed, tossing her head. "I could eat a million of them, especially the ones that are red-bean flavored," she retorted. "And I know that you gave my dad more."

"Well, your father saved the city a few times, maybe you'll get more if you do that," he suggested. "Does he know you're here?"

Aurora shook her head.

"We'll go right back," she promised, "only this lady was hungry..."

The man's eyes snapped back to Apple, who defensively took a step back. "The food looks fine, the food looks great! I swear, I'll just run back and..." She trailed off as her stomach rumbled again, and the man nodded decisively.

"All right," he said, turning to the server. "Henry, could you please take these two back to their parents?"

As the server took the children away, Apple resisted the urge to simply follow them. Instead, she stayed right where she was as the tall man in the tuxedo looked at her carefully.

"So," he said finally. "What's wrong with my food?"

"Your food?" she asked nervously.

He smiled. "Yes, my food. Usually The Hunt doesn't do catering, but Hillman requested us, and well, I like the guy."

Apple's mouth dropped open. Even she had heard of The Hunt. It was one of the premier dining establishments in the city, and the outrageous prices and long wait list only added to its appeal. Now that she knew that the food was being catered by The Hunt, she knew who the handsome man speaking to her was.

"You're Alexius Bellaron," she said in a small voice.

He waved it away as if it meant nothing. "I'm Chef during working hours, but you should call me Bellaron. Now what was this I heard about you being hungry?"

She fiddled with her hands nervously. How could she tell a man who was famous throughout the state for his amazing meals that she wanted nothing more than a frozen pizza and a can of soda?"

"I... I wasn't sure how to eat any of the food you had out there..." she muttered, her face turning red with embarrassment. She expected him to laugh, or worse, to make a joke about how girls her size didn't seem to have any trouble eating, but he was only nodding sympathetically.

"It can be a little complicated in a buffet line and everyone rushing," he said sympathetically. "And maybe I did decide to go a little form over function tonight. I'd hate it if anyone attending an event where I was catering went away hungry, though, so why don't you sit down and let me put together a plate for you?"

It was on the tip of Apple's tongue to refuse. She knew that she was needed back in the gallery, and the longer she spent in the presence of the oddly magnetic chef, the more she felt drawn to him. There was something about tall dark men who looked with so much concern at her that made her heart melt, and well, perhaps she had acted too foolishly or too hastily over it.

By all rights, she should have fled the scene and consoled herself with a cheeseburger on her way home, but instead, her stomach rumbled again and she gave up.

He grinned, as if sensing her capitulation, and gestured at the stool nearby.

"Have a seat and start talking," he said. "Allergies, likes, dislikes?"

"No allergies," she said with a shrug. "I can eat just about anything, I'm pretty easy going that way."

He frowned. "That's no way to look at food," he chided. "Come on, give me something to go off of. You like Mediterranean, French, Southeast Asian? Love soups, hate salads?"

Apple shrugged, a trifle defensively. "I dunno," she said, shifting uneasily on her stool. "I like... potatoes, and carrots. I like beef, pork and chicken. I don't know what you're asking..."

He nodded thoughtfully and busied himself at the food pans. He worked fast enough that Apple barely had a moment to wonder what he was doing before he slid the plate and a fork across to her on the counter.

"There you go," he said. "Tell me what you think. If you don't like it, I'll get you something else."

"You really shouldn't go to the trouble," she said, but she was already reaching for the fork. She hadn't eaten all day, and the food, whatever it was, smelled delicious.

There was a creamy lump of something speckled with coarse black pepper, and when she put in her mouth, she realized that she wanted to eat it and nothing else for days.

"Are these... lemony mashed potatoes?" she asked.

Bellaron grinned. "Skordalia, actually. It's a Greek dish, and you're right, it has lemon and pepper flavoring the mashed potatoes. The olive oil I used for it was bought specially from Greece."

There were delicate skewers of meat, bright red and offering a startling contrast to the cream of the potatoes. Apple delicately picked one up, certain she would get something on her shirt, but uncaring now that she was getting fed. "This?"

"Chinese barbecued pork. It's pretty heavy on the allspice, but it's been slow roasted for two days."

She popped it in her mouth and nearly groaned at the burst of succulent flavor on her tongue. It was greasy, salty and sweet all at once, and despite the heaviness of the meat, there was lovely soft smoky flavor underneath it.

"I want to put it in a sandwich," she said with a smile, and instead of being offended by the way she was treating his food, he grinned.

"On some toasted French bread with just a little bit of butter? Been there, done that. Try the caviar."

"Caviar?"

"On the cracker, go on. It won't hurt you."

The caviar was the thing on the plate that had given her the most pause. On a coarse rye cracker, there was a small pile of shining dark... goo. She knew that caviar was expensive, but she also knew that it was fish eggs.

"I don't know if I'll like it."

"Take a bite. If you don't like it, I'll eat it."

Shrugging, she took the most delicate bite possible, and though it was not as bad as she feared, she still made a face.

"Ooh, salty," she said, shaking her head.

He nodded. "Not for everyone, though you might prefer other types. That's beluga caviar, and no one ever said it was mild. A shame, though. That was taken from Russian rivers during the sturgeons' prime run."

Apple shook her head in wonder. "How in the world do you know so much about food?"

"It's a gift." He shrugged easily. "But... well, if you aren't going to eat that caviar?"

"Oh, yeah..."

She held the caviar cracker out to him, but instead of taking it from her the way that she thought he would, he leaned close instead.

_My, what big teeth you have_. Dazed, she was captured by his deep green eyes again. She felt frozen as he dipped his head down, eyes never leaving hers, and he brought his mouth down to the cracker she held.

Instead of snapping it up in a single bite, he nibbled at it gently, and Apple watched, entranced, as his lips and teeth ate the savory little treat in small neat bites.

_Handsome_ , she thought in wonder, and when she saw his tongue lap out, a mere breath away from the tender skin of her palm, a blush rose to her cheeks. She suddenly wanted to see what that mouth might feel like on her skin, not just her palm but everywhere, and all over again, she could feel the sheer animal magnetism that drew her in.

She stood stock still for a few moments after he finished, and then, slowly, he took a clean napkin from the pile on the counter and fastidiously wiped her hand.

"You don't know where I've been," he said with a wink. "Maybe you shouldn't go hand-feeding strange men, miss."

"I didn't go hand-feeding anyone," Apple said, waking up enough to be indignant. "You're the one who made me into a... a dinner plate!"

His eyes flared up at her words, and she realized that though he had dropped the napkin, he was still holding her hand. His thumb came up to stroke the sensitive inner skin of her palm, and he chuckled.

"There are traditions," he said softly, "all over the world, where people say that the best meals are eaten off the bodies of beautiful women..."

Apple laughed shakily. "I... I suppose you never worry about finding beautiful women," she said, her voice soft and husky.

"Well, you might be surprised, but once in a very great while, they get brought to my kitchen, and I want nothing more than to feed them..."

Apple shuddered at the soft, insinuating words, but the idea of herself as a beautiful woman was too much. She laughed shakily and drew her hand back. "Well, tough luck, 'cause right now all you have is kinda cute and still really hungry."

Instead of being frustrated, he simply laughed and took a step back, something that made a keen lance of disappoint pierce her heart. She scolded herself that handsome men weren't interested in dumpy little artists and returned to the plate of food he had prepared.

She let him coach her through Japanese curry (delicious), Greek grape leaf rolls stuffed with rice (too bitter for her), and Vietnamese spring rolls (amazing). He knew where every ingredient came from, and he told her about them until her head spun with the distance that the food she ate had traveled and the spices that exploded on her tongue.

Finally, she pushed the empty plate away and sighed. A part of her wished that she could simply sit in the kitchen forever with this man and simply listen to him talk. Instead, she knew that there was a gallery full of people who were likely looking for her, and that she had hidden herself away long enough.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you so much, that was amazing."

"I strive to please," he said with quick little bow that managed to be just the right amount of courteous and ironic. "Least I could do for a lovely woman who showed up to brighten my night."

She laughed self-consciously. "You're going to have to quit that," she said. "Seriously. Someone's going to take you seriously if you say stuff like that."

He raised a dark elegant eyebrow at her. "If I say that you're lovely and beautiful long enough, do you think you'll believe me?"

"I think that if you keep saying that, I'm going to start saying what I think too."

"I'm absolutely terrified," Bellaron said drily. "Go on then, gunslinger. Give me your best shot."

Apple put her hands on her hips, her chin tilted up and a wide grin on her face. The much needed food had given her back a lot of her bravado, and maybe she felt like teasing a little.

"I want to talk about how good looking you are," she said. "I want to talk about how big you are and how much I like that, and how I can see old scars on your hands and how hot that is. I want to talk about how I bet those hands know their way around a woman's body."

Apple was gratified when Bellaron looked surprised, and she waited for what he had to say.

"I... you know, I don't know why I thought you were shy."

"Probably because I was starving. Now that I've gotten some of your amazing food in me, I could fight a dragon."

Bellaron laughed, and there was a hint of smoke to it that made a pleasurable tingle run up her spine. "I need to keep you fed then," he said, his eyes falling deliberately to her red mouth. "Because I like you like this..."

"Oh, I haven't even begun to warm up," she said jauntily. "I want to talk about how kissable your mouth looks, and how gorgeous it looked when you were eating out of my hand. I've never done that before, you know, not really, it's just been you and a little goat that I fed at a petting zoo when I was eight."

"I find myself unaccountably jealous of a goat," Bellaron commented. "Does it bother you to know that I make an excellent Indian goat curry?"

"Not at all," she responded smoothly. "And I like that too. I like that you know all about food. It's like, if you know your way around a kitchen, what else do you know your way around, you know?"

Somehow, in the course of her words, she found herself closer to him than when she had started out, and by the time she finished speaking, she was mere inches away from him, looking up into his face. He towered over her, but instead of making her feel threatened, it thrilled her.

"What do I know my way around..." he said, and there was just a touch of strain to his voice that drew her in even further. "Well, I don't like to go anywhere where I'm not very, very welcome..."

"Welcome, huh? Well, let's see."

Carefully and slowly, she took his hand, marveling for a moment at how large it was. There were scars on it, the small nicks and cuts that she imagined every chef bore, but it was completely and utterly clean, the nails trimmed back to the quick. She stroked it for a moment, and then she placed it on the dip of her waist.

"Is that an invitation?" he asked.

She laughed, a soft gusty sound. "If I could be any clearer, I would be shouting it," she said, and his hand drifted lower.

She held her breath as he ran light fingers over the swell of her hip, sweeping down over the velvet of her dress and palming her thigh. Daring to be a little braver, she reached up and took a fistful of his tuxedo's lapel, dragging him closer so she was pinned between his bulk and the table.

"I like it close," she said softly, glancing up at him. With their bodies pressed so close, she could feel how solid he was, and how muscular. He hissed softly with surprise when she shifted against him, and now she could feel his cock stir between his legs, pressing into her soft belly.

"Do you?" he muttered thickly, and his fingers found the hem of her dress, tugging it aside so that he could slide the fabric up her legs. He had both hands on her thighs now, and she whimpered as he dragged his calloused palms up and up. He was amazingly warm pressed against her, and there was something wonderful and almost terrifying by how aroused she was so quickly. Something about this man lit her up like a night sky full of fireworks, and she braced herself against the table so she could fit herself to him more completely.

"You feel so, so good," she whispered. "I can't remember the last time I felt this good."

He laughed a touch raggedly, and when Apple looked up, she could see that there was a dazed look in his eyes as well.

"I..." He swallowed. "Neither can I."

She might have scoffed at the idea of a man as handsome as Bellaron ever lacking for female company, but his hands came around the backs of her thighs and gave her round buttocks a gentle squeeze.

"Harder," she found herself whispering. "I'm not a porcelain doll."

That was all the encouragement he needed. His strong fingers kneaded into her soft flesh, and when she looked up again, his mouth crashed down on hers. They had been moving so slowly that it was as if his kiss shocked everything into bright and vivid color. Suddenly there were his hands on her rear, and his hot wet mouth covering her own. When she parted her lips, he swept his tongue inside, and eagerly, she sucked on it, wanting more and then more than that.

With a muffled curse, he lifted her up on the table, setting her up on it so that she had to look down at him. She knew that she was likely as red as a cherry from their play, but when she looked down at the way his eyes were nearly black with desire, a red, red smile curled her lips.

"You're a handsome thing," she said softly, running one leg up his side, and he rewarded her with a deep growl in his chest.

"You're gorgeous," he said simply. "Tell me what you want."

In the middle of her haze, Apple woke up a little. She was an artist, and her language was metal and wood, clay and resin. Words were always more difficult, and for a moment, she was convinced that they would stick in her throat. Then she looked into his dark waiting face, and she felt her throat open.

"I want you to touch me," she said thickly. "Run... run your hands over my breasts, show me how much you like them."

Obediently, he cupped her generous breasts in his large hands, and when he squeezed, she moaned with pleasure. His clever fingers found her nipples through the thin fabric and her bra, and he rolled them until they rose up as taut as tender buds, all but showing through the cloth. Hissing with pleasure, Apple found her fingers laced into his hair, and when he made a sharp noise, she pulled.

"Little witch," he breathed, and she laughed and pulled harder.

He leaned up for another kiss, but while her lips were occupied, his hand crept up her thigh again. With him standing between her knees, she was open and defenseless to his touch. The idea that she couldn't close her legs against him made her whimper with desire, and that was before his fingertips started to trace the line of her panties.

"Lace," he muttered. "Naughty girl."

"What are you going to do about it?" she asked huskily, and she got her response when he eased one finger under the elastic. He chuckled when he found her privates completely shaved, and then he moaned when he brushed against her wet slit.

"You want me," he murmured heatedly. "I could smell you before, but now I can feel it..."

"Yes, yes," she murmured. "Touch me, touch me please..."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and some part of her couldn't believe that she was doing this, spreading herself open for a man in a tuxedo on the night of her biggest gallery show. Another part of her seemed to wake up when she touched Bellaron, asking her what had taken so long, this was what she was meant for, and she spread her legs wider for his touch.

He ran one blunt-tipped finger over her slit, stroking the folds with a delicate consideration before reaching to flicker over her clit. That gentle motion was nowhere near enough, and she found herself thrusting her hips up, desperate for more.

"Please," she said. "Inside, I like it inside!"

With a strained chuckle, he did as she asked, and in a moment, his finger was sunk in her willing depths, thrusting in and out of her with a nearly insolent slowness. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, she pulled his hair, but there was nothing that she could do to make him speed his deliriously sensual moments.

"Things take time," he said, his voice more than slightly raw. "Things take time, and I won't be rushed, not with you, not like this."

He turned his hand so that he could flick his thumb over her clit with every stroke, and soon instead of urging him on, she was clinging to him instead. The powerful waves of pleasure that started low in her belly swept through her body, making her tense tighter and tighter. She was going to explode, she knew she was, it was going to happen...

"Miss Muldoon? Miss Muldoon, are you here?

The anxious voice of the gallery manager broke through her sensual haze, and even that might not have made pause if it wasn't getting louder and louder.

With a muffled curse, Bellaron pulled away from her, and Apple managed to stifle her startled yelp of surprise. For a moment, she felt positively murderous toward the person who had interrupted, but common sense prevailed, and she dropped off of the table and hastily pulled her dress down. She thought she would be able to present a calm face, but then she looked over to see Bellaron sucking his fingers clean of her juices.

"Bellaron!"

"You taste wonderful," he whispered, straightening her hair quickly with his clean hand. "Now look like we've been talking about molecular gastronomy."

She didn't even bother to ask what that was, but when the gallery manager entered the room, she thought that she looked demure enough. She apologized for going missing, but she had been so hungry, and the food was so delicious, after all. She batted her large brown eyes at the gallery manager, who said that there were many important people who wanted to speak to her, and Apple found herself being hurried back to the main gallery.

She managed to sneak a quick look back at the kitchen, and the image of Bellaron, staring after her with eyes that were afire with lust and longing, was one she thought she would carry forever.

**Chapter Three**

After the night was over, and most of the equipment was put away, Bellaron plated up three last plates, filling them with the delicious odds and ends that were in some ways tastier for having been sitting for so long but would have been tossed out after the festivities. He stripped off the tuxedo jacket, and he was just beginning to roll up his sleeves when Bryan Hillman and Vicky Campbell came in.

They were a striking pair, and though Bryan Hillman was a multimillionaire hero who could turn invisible at a moment's whim, it was obvious through his shy glances and soft smiles that he would never think himself grander than his wife. Vicky Campbell was tall and thin with black hair that she had recently cut fashionably short. Her green eyes snapped with life, and though her high heels made her tower over her rather slender husband, it was obvious to see that they were equals in every way.

"I saw you in the gallery, but I didn't get a chance to come over to say hello," said Vicky, taking a comfortable seat at the counter. She was a longtime veteran of events like this, and she knew that sometimes, the best eating occurred after everyone had gone.

"Good event," said Bryan comfortably. "People were raving about the food, thank you for handling it."

Bellaron tugged his tie loose and sat down at his own plate. He knew when Bryan asked to meet with him after the opening that it wasn't just for food.

"You want me to meet him?" he said, frowning. If he wasn't careful, he would crush the edge of the table in his bare hand; carefully, he let go and sat with his hand resting on one thigh.

"It's long past time," Vicky pointed out. "You've been living in Colossal City for more than two years now. You need to meet him."

Bellaron frowned at her, and she only smiled serenely. He supposed that after some of the interviews she had run, aliens must be fairly old news.

"We've gone on as we are just fine."

Bryan wiped his mouth with his napkin before speaking, shaking his head. "No, we've not. Last winter, when those things came out of the sewers, we could have used you then. And just a month ago, when that Ichor godling attacked the Third Ward, don't tell us that you were so pleased to handle that alone."

Bellaron found himself baring his teeth at Bryan, and he forced himself calm. He genuinely liked the other man. As a matter of fact, he owed a great deal of success to Bryan's patronage, but that sure as hell didn't mean that he was going do whatever he said.

"I did just fine," he said stubbornly.

"You could be doing better, and that's what we're trying to say," Vicky said, putting down her fork. When she looked at him with that clear and earnest expression, it was easy to see why people trusted her immediately. It was all genuine too, and he could find it in himself to envy Bryan mightily if a certain sweet-faced artist hadn't stolen into his kitchen that night.

Bellaron sighed. "Fine. Arrange your meeting, but don't expect me to be impressed by the man."

"That's just fine, I'm not asking you to be best friends, I'm just asking you to talk," Bryan said, smiling with relief. "Thank you. If there's anything I can do for you..."

"The artist," Bellaron said bluntly. "I couldn't get close to her, there were so many people who wanted to talk to her. Who is she?"

"Her name's Apple Muldoon, and she's the artist in residence at the Hillman Center for the next month," Bryan said proudly. "I caught a small display that she had at an art fair a few months ago, and I knew that she had to bring her work here."

"She dropped out of the art college here a few years ago," supplied Vicky. "Independent, did a bunch of odd jobs until her art took off. It's still not paying the bills, I don't think, but tonight changed everything for her. They can't take the pieces yet, but nearly every piece sold."

Bellaron nodded thoughtfully. "Everything except the big wolf."

"Yes," said Vicky with surprise. "How did you know?"

Bellaron grinned, and if there was something sharp to his smile, neither Vicky or Bryan let it bother them.

"I recognized it," he said. "That's a hunter. That's something that stalks the forests and kills without a sound. It makes every human who looks at it realize that they're prey."

Vicky lifted a cool eyebrow. "Oh? And what does it make you think, Bellaron?"

"I see a brother," he retorted.

He stood up abruptly, and both Vicky and Bryan, human to their core despite the alien company they kept, shivered. They could see the hunter in him, and a deep part of them responded to it.

""Bryan, I want that piece. I don't care how much it costs."

Bryan nodded, but when he looked at the tense lines of Bellaron's body, he knew that it wasn't all that the tall man wanted.

Chapter Four

Apple had fallen asleep in her makeup and her clothes the night before, and when she awoke around noon, her thoughts were still full of green eyes, clever fingers and a mouth that was made to pleasure her. The thoughts stayed with her as she showered and dressed, pulling on her favorite pair of paint-splattered jeans and a soft purple peasant top, and she blushed all over again to think about how bold she had been. She was no shrinking violet, but usually she waited a bit before she unleashed her inner vixen. Something about the chef she met at the gallery showing had changed all that, and when she remembered his hands on her flesh, she felt herself heat up all over again.

She wondered what would happen if she showed up at the doors of The Hunt, if she walked through the fancy dining room and confronted him in the kitchen. Would he look at her the same way? Would he touch her again? Then she looked down at her clothes, at the vivid green paint splatter on her jeans and her worn sandals, and realized that that was pretty unlikely.

Apple had every intention of hunting him down, but at the moment, she needed time to gather herself. Her reaction to him last night was simply so strong that she needed time to collect her thoughts, and to do so, she made her way down to the midtown market.

The midtown market was Colossal City's summer flea market. From April until October, the market took up an enormous four-block lot, and vendors of all kinds hawked their wares from stands, from wheelbarrows, from blankets and from carts. There were farmers selling rich colorful produce, booksellers, junk sellers, antique dealers and clothes vendors of every sort, and Apple thought it was her favorite place in the whole city.

Sometimes she bought things, but more often, she walked around, staring at the oddities that lurked in every bin and bag. She wondered if a pair of ancient tin soldiers would go well on her next piece, she petted an enormous friendly dog that was about the size of a pony, and on a whim, she bought herself a bag of roasted almonds to eat as she walked.

Apple found herself looking over a blanket that was scattered with all sorts of odds and ends, and for some reason, she found herself drawn to a leather book. It was small, barely the size of a normal paperback, but the leather was a deep rich brown, worn down by years of handling. She would have passed it by, but when she opened it, her eyes fell on a strange animal that she had never seen before. It had the body of what she thought was a lizard, but it had two cat heads on its shoulder. They both stared intently at each other, baring sharp fangs.

"How much?" she asked, and the man held up two fingers.

She passed him two dollars, and she ran home to devour the book. It was full of monsters, ones that sparked her mind and made her long for clay, for metal, for anything that would let her capture their sinuous curves.

Apple spent the day making sketches, trying to figure out how she could give life to the illustrations. The book was strange, with no publisher, and she could not understand what it was for. There were no words, only picture after picture of glorious monsters. Some of them swam, some of them flew, some of them were tiny and some huge, but they were all unique in their own way, with expressions on their faces that made her smile and shiver by turns.

She fell into bed fully clothed again, holding the book in her hand, and this time, her dreams took her straight to Bellaron's arms.

This time, they weren't interrupted, and he spread her out on that table so that he could see her, touch her, taste her all they wished. She could feel her hands curl around his shoulders as she drew him on top of her, and she could feel his hot lips on her mouth, her neck, her breasts.

"Come on, finish what you started, big man," she said in her dream, and he grinned, doing exactly that.

Across the city, Bellaron awoke in his enormous bed in the apartment above the restaurant. Shards of his dreams came back to him, and panting, he fell back against the pillows. It had seemed so very real, her long brown hair, her laughing dark eyes, the feel of her skin under his hands. She was smiling at him, running her hands down his body.

_Come on, finish what you started, big man,_ she had whispered, and oh, how he longed to do so.

Among his people there were false dreams and true dreams, and as he lay alone his bed, certain that he could still feel her breath on his cheek, he knew that the dream he had just had was true.

He had to find her.

He couldn't let anything stop him.

Far away, a crystal that hung suspended in the center of a dark chamber trembled and fell to the ground. Its ringing chime echoed throughout the stone room, and slowly, the figures that curled up on the floor around it started to stir. They shook off dust and rags, and for a moment, they were confused, snarling at each other and calling out.

The tallest and oldest among them strode to the center of the chamber, where he knelt and inspected the shards of the crystal. They were sharp enough to rip his fingers to ribbons, but though his skin was cut, there was no blood.

"It's awakened," he whispered. "It is time."

He was momentarily still, and then he began to laugh.

Do you like this book? Be sure to check other books in this series

Eye of the Beholder - Volume 14

Scars of my Past - Volume 15

Glory in Victory - Volume 16

Lynxar Series - A Star from Far Away: Books 14-16 (3-Book Bundle)

Be sure to check the other books of this series

Lynxar - Volume 1

Lynxar's Choices - Volume 2

Lynxar's Legacy - Volume 3

Lynxar's Ghost - Volume 4

The Ghost Rises - Volume 5

Triumph of the Ghost - Volume 6

Lynxar Series: Books 1-6 (6-Book Bundle)

Lynxar's searching Heart - Volume 7

Dreams of the Heart - Volume 8

Heartfelt Farewells - Volume 9

Strength of the Heart - Volume 10

The Heart of Danger - Volume 11

Deceptions of the Heart \- Volume 12

A Heart for Family - Volume 13

Lynxar Series - The Vampire King: Books 7-13 (7-Book Bundle)

***

Delylah Fayre - Part 1

***

Synopsis

Bold, beautiful and brazen, Delylah Fayre has the world at her feet. One of the most successful female performers of her time, her rise from a singer in a church choir to a legendary diva has fulfilled her wildest dreams, but fame has also claimed part of her soul. What was once an exploration of herself through her music and her sexuality has transformed her into someone she no longer recognizes.

When Delylah meets infamous celebrity photographer, James Branagh, for an intimate photo shoot, she has no idea of the new direction her life is about to take. After the harrowing death of a young woman at one of her concerts, Delylah reaches a personal nadir, but in the process, also discovers a side of herself she thought she had lost, and returns home to reconnect with herself and her future.

***

Standing on a floodlit stage catwalk, Delylah Fayre rose like a mystical sorceress above her crazed, hand-waving audience. The firefly flashes of a thousand cameras dazzled her, her ears ringing from the echoing din of chanting, cheers and shouts that had transformed the massive domed stadium into a contemporary Roman bacchanalia. Despite a formidable wall of bodyguards flanking the catwalk, a human tsunami of fans surged closer, their ecstatic, upturned faces longing for a closer glimpse of their idol.

Bowing and throwing kisses, Delylah felt the hot glare of lights on her burnished caramel skin, the musky scent of her sweat laced with the ripe floral notes of her signature perfume. Her waist-length mane of coppery brown hair bore testament to her exotic mix of black and Creole blood, its wavy length swishing like a horse's tail.

More than a little high on the raw, sexually charged energy radiating from the crowd, she flashed a dazzling white smile and strutted through a blaze of colored lights pulsing kaleidoscopically from the catwalk. Her voluptuous, beautifully sculpted body was provocatively emphasized in a skimpy leather and chain mail bustier that barely concealed her full, luscious breasts and the taut, protuberant mounds of her ass.

She swayed along on spurred patent leather dominatrix boots with a sense of confident sensuality that had both men and women lusting for her. Her ball-bearing hips rolled invitingly, and to amp up the tension even higher, she paused frequently to glance over her shoulder with smoldering green, Cleopatra-lined eyes to wiggle or smack her delectable cheeks.

Giant flat screens flanking the stadium relayed the pumping sound and dazzling visuals, but they could not recapture the immersive, almost orgiastic experience of standing amidst the audience.

More than once, Delylah had glimpsed provocative behavior from the audience. Male or female, the naked hunger she incited from those at her feet fed her more potently than any drug.

For Delylah was the drug, the high she offered more enduring than any hit on the market. The adoring crowd was more than her devoted slaves, they were willing supplicants worshiping a flesh and blood goddess who fueled their darkest fantasies and dissolved their inhibitions with the flick of a wrist or a tantalizing grab of her ankles.

A sultry soul diva with a honeyed-bark voice and a gaze that could melt steel, Delylah was a dark angel from a wet dream, a living fantasy who enjoyed her body on stage almost as much as she did offstage or in bed ... and how she used this power... from the graceful, tapered fingers that openly caressed her satiny flesh, to her full, glossy lips that fired the imaginations of those who yearned to feel her hot wet mouth on their body.

At twenty-four, she was a phenomenon, the darkly alluring dungeon stage an erotic playground where she translated her steamy sexuality into a controversial tour of sold-out performances and sensational tabloid headlines. Amidst the swirling mist and black satin-draped walls displaying chains, manacles and whips, her musicians, themselves specimens of male perfection, played relentlessly, their oiled, finely cut bodies writhing with a primal rhythm that perfectly characterized her music.

The last refrain of the closing song was almost over, and the hip-thrusting melody that Delylah had literally masturbated to wound down to its final pulsing notes. Now her body was drenched in sweat, her pussy chafing from the bustier's G-string crotch that rubbed against her clit so tenaciously she had come twice on stage. There was no need to simulate. Everything and anything Delylah felt was genuine. That some though it an act while others thought it real made no difference to her. She had neither the time nor the patience to deal with the moralistic whiners who labeled her performances controversial.

Undulating slowly toward the stage, she breathed a brief sigh of relief. Tomorrow's show would be the last for two weeks, and she was looking forward to a badly needed break. Seventeen shows packed into one month was grueling, even traveling in the luxury she was accustomed to. She thought of Therese and smiled. More than her closest friend, confidante and manager, Therese was her soul mate, the piece of a flesh and blood puzzle that fit her perfectly.

With a confident clicking of her heels, Delylah strode around the stage and shook her booty enough times to stir the audience into an even higher fever pitch. She waved and blew kisses as the musicians finally wound down to the last notes of the song. Her eyes scanning the bobbing crowd, she had long ago relegated individual faces to a mental shorthand of races and ethnicities. Three world tours had left little mystery, and despite cultural and physical differences, flesh and blood was flesh and blood, and the endless cavalcade of faces had become a blur.

So when her eyes were snared by a face staring up from near the stage, Delylah was at first confused, then intrigued. Rising a head taller than the sea of bodies around him, he watched with the cool detachment of a panther waiting in the brush to pounce on unsuspecting prey. Eyes as blue as the Caribbean stared not only at her, but through her, and she felt the distinct sensation of hands caressing her body. In his mid to late thirties, his tanned, chiseled face matched the sculpted planes of his body, his thick, sun-kissed hair sexily tousled.

Dressed in jeans and a denim shirt rolled up at the sleeves, he exuded such magnetism that the younger, prettier men around him faded into the background. The intensity of his stare snared Delylah with a heat she had not felt in some time. Sensing her reaction, he raised an expensive camera that belied the feeble flashes of phones around him, peered through a telephoto lens and snapped several photos in succession. He paused only to look up and briefly smile, the connection blazing through her body like an electrical jolt.

Instinctively, Delylah responded, her body moving to the seductive gaze of the lens. She was no stranger to photo shoots, but something about this man struck a chord with her, and she realized that there was something vaguely familiar about him. Feeling like a child lured away by the Pied Piper, she moved toward him, but the last song ended and the audience erupted in a volcanic explosion of screams, applause and swaying bodies that forced him to put away the camera.

"Lylah... Lylah..." the frenzied audience chanted.

Returning to the center stage, Delylah smiled, bowed and blew more kisses. "Thank you!" she cried, gazing at her adoring fans. "Thank you! I love you all!"

Slowly, she moved toward where the man had stood, but he had vanished into the surging crowd. Feeling almost a sense of disappointment, she scanned the faces, but the frenzied fans had prompted the bodyguards into action and organized chaos ensued. The dimming stage lights cast the audience into flickering shadows, and Delylah reluctantly retreated.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Therese standing by the stage exit, her gleaming mahogany skin almost seamlessly blending into the black drapes, dressed casually in figure-hugging jeans and a sexy but simple black halter top that more than emphasized her gorgeous, full breasts. Delylah blew her a kiss.

A dazzling smile illuminating her face, Therese blew a discreet kiss back. Poised and regal beneath a simple topknot and gold hoop earrings, she was a spray of cool water against Delylah's sizzling heat, her warm amber eyes like liquid honey. Extending her arms toward Delylah, Therese gathered her in an embrace.

"You were amazing," she said, brushing her lips against Delylah's. "Honestly, no matter how many times I watch the show, it's a different experience each time."

Stepping behind the curtains, Delylah pulled Therese into a deep kiss. Full, succulent lips hungrily sought each other, their tongues fencing.

"Mmm..." Therese said, reluctantly breaking the kiss. "Someone's worked up an appetite."

A flash of the blue-eyed man popped into Delylah's mind. Feeling an intensely sexual thrill, she took Therese's hand and hurried to the dressing room before her entourage swarmed her. The din of the stadium receded, but not the urgency she felt coursing through her body, and she wanted no talking, no distractions. Pulling Therese inside the luxuriously appointed suite, Delylah locked the door, pushed Therese against the wall and molded her body tightly against Therese.

Before Therese could protest, Delylah began kissing her with such intensity Therese gasped for breath. Delylah felt Therese's instant response, which fueled her desire even more. Their hands sought each other, Delylah's hot, moist flesh sizzling against Therese's cool fragrant skin. Impatiently they stripped each other naked, Delylah's chain mail costume clinking to the floor as the entwined women sank to the lush carpet. Lips locked against lips, nipples brushed against nipples, engorged, moist pussy lips unfurled like petals to mingle juice with juice.

Their hands urgently explored each other... caressing, teasing, probing and finally penetrating. Outside, Delylah could hear voices and footsteps, but her only focus was the aching heat coursing through her body. While she usually made love to Therese after a performance, this evening she felt compelled to fuck like an animal.

Her heart pounding as though she had run a marathon, Delylah pushed Therese onto her back, straddled her, and worked her mouth from the rigid chocolate buds of Therese's nipples down the satiny planes of her stomach, smooth hips and finally to the dusky valley of her shaven pussy. Whimpering, her flesh erupting in beads of sweat, Therese writhed and arched beneath Delylah's frantic ministrations. Her hands rose in supplication, seeking Delylah's body, but Delylah pinned Therese's wrists over her head and continued her exploration.

The inevitable knocks at the door came, but Delylah ignored them, along with the persistent ringing of both the suite phone and her personal phone. She had given the audience what they wanted, had fed their primal needs for two sweaty, sexually charged hours. No doubt many would be releasing their own pent-up energies. It often happened, especially during the performance. Surrounded by the crush of bodies and the ripe, pheromone-charged air, Delylah frequently glimpsed an exposed breast, a bobbing head or straying hand.

Incited by her provocative movements on stage, many succumbed to their own desires and followed suit, and it was beyond the abilities of either security or the bodyguards to chaperone thousands of fans. Sometimes the giant screens captured the activity, but it was mere glimpses among a surging crowd moving like a storm-tossed ocean.

The more conservative lambasted Delylah's concerts as legitimized orgies, but an age limit of over twenty-one was strictly enforced for each performance. Male or female, many fans captured her eye, but as her success attained meteoric heights, practicality eventually surpassed spontaneity, and those invited backstage were now carefully vetted. Despite Delylah's free spirited and open bisexuality, and despite the privileges of fame and fortune, inevitably there were also pitfalls. Freedom to live her life the way she chose was important to Delylah, but being wise about her choices was also a critical factor of her lifestyle.

A familiar voice called out from the door. By now, Darien Stone's routine had become as familiar as breathing. Though her relationship with her manager, mentor and first lover had evolved since the heady days of discovery and her relentless rise to fame, Darien was still a key figure in her life and remained her proverbial lion at the gate.

While she heard his words, Delylah chose to ignore them and knelt between Therese's inviting, toned thighs. Spreading them wide and raising them until Therese's gleaming folds of flesh were completely exposed, Delylah trailed her tongue and gently lapped pearls of salty sweet nectar. Therese gasped and jerked, her breasts heaving with her panted breath. Her hands clawed at the carpet, her nails digging at the fiber. Delylah glanced up and watched a palette of expressions cross Therese's face, the fluid movement of her body a sensual symphony.

Suddenly she could no longer contain herself. Mounting Therese in the sixty-nine position, Delylah ground her own dripping, aching pussy onto Therese's mouth while devouring Therese's tender meat with her own. Gripping Therese's raised, quivering thighs, Delylah's tongue probed, licked and penetrated Therese in time with Therese's frantic tongue fucking. Feeling Therese's hands clutch and spread her ass cheeks until her holes were stretched and opened to Therese's tongue and fingers, Delylah could barely focus on filling Therese's equally hungry holes.

Writhing and swaying in unison, the women merged into one sweating body. Therese gasped for breath and impaled the dark, tight ring of Delylah's asshole with three fingers, pumping and stretching while her mouth and fingers filled Delylah's pussy. Delylah ground and wriggled herself deeply against the fingers that brushed against her womb, her own fingers busily working Therese's juice-slicked holes.

The phones continued to ring, and Darien continued to knock, but until Delylah felt the first aching spasms of her orgasm explode from her core and resonate throughout her body in a series of excruciating waves of pleasure, she neither saw nor heard anything else. Bucking furiously from her own impending orgasm, Therese cried out like a wounded animal and clutched Delylah so tightly that her nails dug into Delylah's flesh.

Eyes tightly shut, her body shuddering from release, Delylah moaned and collapsed on top of Therese. Hearts beating in frantic rhythm, they lay together until the heat of passion finally subsided into a mellow glow.

"Oh... my God..." Therese murmured, finally rolling from beneath Delylah's body.

She lay on her side for a few moments before rising unsteadily to her feet. Drenched in sweat, her topknot in seductive disarray, she glanced at Delylah with a smile before gathering their discarded clothes.

"Shall I tell everyone you're in the shower?" she asked with a smile. "A very long shower?"

Delylah rolled onto her back and gazed up at Therese, her eyes feasting on the perfection of Therese's body. Though they had shared many men and women between them, no one compared with Therese both on a physical and metal level, and the love Delylah felt for her was beyond any emotion she had ever experienced with another person.

"I think we both need one," she said, rising to her feet. "Why don't we take one together? You can scrub that sweet spot I never seem to be able to reach."

"I can do that," Therese teased, "just depends on what you want me to scrub _with._ "

She laughed and kissed Delylah. Delylah savored the taste of her own juice on Therese's lips and felt herself becoming aroused again, but the next course on the menu would have to wait until later. She preferred to savor Therese as she would a box of the finest chocolate, allowing each piece to slowly melt in her mouth rather than devour it in a single bite.

"She's in the shower, Darien," Therese said as she approached the door completely at ease with her nakedness. "I'll call you when she's ready."

"Tell her to check her phone," Darien said without missing a beat. "It's important. I'll let everyone know she's busy right now."

Delylah glanced at Therese. The three of them had a long history together, and Darien knew the routine by now. They had shared each other often enough after a performance, but tonight he was all business, and the air of formality in his voice intrigued Delylah. Retrieving her phone among the clutter of her dressing table, she quickly scanned through the glut of waiting messages. When she reached the last one marked urgent, her attention was instantly snared by several candid images of herself on stage.

Throughout her career there had been no shortage of images until at times Delylah actually wearied of seeing herself everywhere. Magazines, media, Internet... the frenzy of interest and curiosity about her and her life was a microscopic examination that would have driven a weaker or less disciplined artist insane. She normally would have had no particular or pressing interest in yet another set of photos from any source, but something about these were different.

Even as she scrolled through the images again, she didn't quite understand why they affected her so much. They were not so much photographic representations of her but glimpses into her soul, something the camera rarely caught in her mostly posed and or orchestrated photo shoots. But it was the last image that stunned her the most... her expression, the emotion in her eyes completely capturing the feelings she had experienced during her on-stage encounter with the blue-eyed man. A gasp rose in her throat, as though he had peeked into her heart and captured it the moment he raised the camera and taken the picture.

Delylah stared at the photo as if seeing herself for the first time, her expression, the look in her eyes frozen in time. She felt the warm embrace of Therese's arms and leaned against her.

"You okay, Lylah?" Therese whispered as she trailed her lips along Delylah's neck. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Maybe I have," Delylah whispered.

She gazed at the brief message accompanying the photos. James Branagh... the name was familiar, and after a moment, she realized why. One of the most renowned photographers in the world, James Branagh was a legend, an iconic figure who had immortalized the world's most influential people. She had seen and admired his work, but she had not connected the beautiful man standing in the audience to the legendary name.

"James Branagh," Delylah said. "He was at the show tonight. I saw him near the stage."

Therese peered curiously over Delylah's shoulder and stared at the photo. "My God, that's amazing," she said, taking the phone and inspecting the image more closely. "You look like you're in a completely different place." Her eyes fell on the brief message below the photo. "I had no idea James Branagh was here."

"Neither did I," Delylah said. "Darien never mentioned anything about any VIPs attending."

"Well, it seems James is very interested in meeting you," Therese said. "Shall I call Darien and ask if he's still around? He obviously came to see you."

Delylah envisioned James framing her as though his eyes were the camera. The physical jolt of his gaze still resonated throughout her body, and she realized she wanted to see him again... badly.

"He really did make an impact on you, didn't he?" Therese asked with a bemused expression. "It's been a while since a man's put that look on your face."

Delylah smiled and turned to kiss Therese. "You're going to think I've lost it, but honestly, I don't even know how I noticed him in the crowd. After a while, it's nothing but an ocean of faces blurring into each other, but suddenly he was there near the stage looking at me not as a fan but as..."

"As a man?" Therese finished. "That would be a refreshing change." She looked at Delylah and speed dialed Darien's number. He picked up after the second ring. "Hey D," she said, using Darien's initial as his nickname. "What's the deal with Branagh?"

"Nobody knew he was here until security alerted me that he was in the audience and wanted to talk to me," Darien said. "We had a brief meeting a few minutes ago."

Therese nodded knowingly. "What specifically does he want?"

"He's interested in doing a series of photos of Delylah," Darien said, "but not your typical photo shoot. He interested in portraying the life of an artist in a candid series of shots."

"Send him over," Delylah said. "Interestingly enough, I noticed him in the audience, but I didn't recognize him. When the show finished he was gone."

"You apparently made quite an impression on him," Darien said. "Anyway, I'll have one of the guards escort him to your suite in an hour if you need some time."

"No other visitors," Delylah said. "I'm feeling a little tired tonight and just want to kick back."

"You got it," Darien said, and hung up.

Therese took Delylah by the hand and led her to the luxurious bathroom. She paused to turn on the multiple massaging jets in the huge marble shower and waited until wafts of steam circulated around the etched-glass walls. Hand in hand, they stepped beneath warm pulsing jets of water and simply held each other against the relaxing flow. Therese turned Delylah around and began to knead the knotted muscles of her shoulders.

Delylah sighed and sagged against Therese, the tension slowly releasing with the skillful ministrations of Therese's fingers. Though Delylah kept herself in top physical condition, her grueling schedule often left her exhausted, and she realized she would have to take a break soon. Her work, her music, was her passion, but she was still a flesh and blood woman and sometimes peace and quiet was all she yearned for.

Her eyes grew heavy as Therese reached for a built-in wall dispenser and pumped a generous handful of richly scented lemon geranium foaming oil into her hands and sensuously massaged it onto Delylah's body.

"That feels wonderful," Delylah murmured, her flesh feeling like melted taffy.

Therese laughed softly. "Don't go falling asleep on me," she said. "At least, not yet. I need you in a standing position, and we certainly don't want to disappoint Mr. Branagh."

Delylah reached out to support herself against the gleaming cream and chocolate marble wall. Slowly, her eyes closed. Embraced by the swirls of fragrant steam and massaged by the pulsing water and Therese's loving hands, her body surrendered while her mind began to drift beyond the years behind sweltering stage lights, inside limousines and mobbed by crowds no matter where she was or what she tried to do.

Her life was her own, her success forged through years of hard work and a gift borne beyond ordinary talent, yet it was a life that also belonged to so many others who had walked with her on the path to success. She was proud of who Delylah Fayre was, and even though much of that persona belonged to the rarified atmosphere of the stage, deep beneath her seductively glamorous exterior, a young woman with a dream still existed, and still remembered.

***

Six years earlier...

The night was so stifling Lylah could barely catch her breath as she followed Darien through the lush fields bordering the woods. Humidity veiled the trees like the sticky juice clinging to her aching thighs, the heavy air swirling like a spectral fog. A full moon that seemed to swallow the sky cast the wildflowers in magical quicksilver light, and even at night their resonant perfume lingered. Crickets sang a raucous chorus, the shrill sound almost grating on Lylah's ears.

Sweat beaded her full breasts, the sensation of their weight bobbing from her skimpy unbuttoned blouse as arousing as the feel of Darien's hot mouth sucking and nibbling on her engorged chocolate-brown nipples. They still stung from the pressure of his teeth, but not as much as her painfully swollen pussy after he had violently tongue fucked her in the backseat of his car. Her clit throbbed against her cum-soaked panties, and the only reason she still wore the lacy thong was to keep her wetness from soaking her short flowered skirt that more than emphasized her shapely legs and voluptuous ass.

The windows of the vintage Barracuda had steamed up, the leather upholstery slick with sweat as they writhed together like a pair of catfish squirming on a fishing hook. Lylah had felt the huge bulge of Darien's cock straining against his jeans, but as many times as she struggled to unzip them and release his throbbing meat, he continued to slap her hands away.

"Got a surprise for you," was all he would say before his mouth and fingers brought her screaming and bucking to the point where the car became a four-wheel trampoline and the shocks thoroughly tested.

Darien had hiked her skirt over her hips and, tossing aside the lacy wisp of her thong, had used his mouth and fingers in ways Lylah had never imagined, even though she had pleasured herself in many innovative ways when her family wasn't home. She had always been highly sexual, and while she had glimpsed the same traits in her younger twin brothers, her somewhat conservative parents tended to keep all things sexual behind closed doors.

But Lylah's open sexuality was not to be confined by the notions of narrow minds or hushed conversations, and there was something about Darien that brought her true nature like a field of ripening corn... she was firm, succulent and ready to be plucked from the stalk. She had screamed until her voice went hoarse when she came explosively in the back seat, her flesh burning for more of Darien, but he had simply laughed and pulled her from the car before leading her into the muggy night.

"How much further are we going?" she asked. "I need your cock and then I need a cold shower. Why do you keep me waiting like this?"

Darien laughed, his deep voice like rich black coffee. Merging into the darkness, he was too beautiful to look at, his chiseled features resembling more the image of an ancient Egyptian deity than a man. A singer with a voice to rival the gods, music was his life, and when he had discovered Lylah singing in a church choir almost four months earlier, he had pursued her with the hell-bent determination to transform her from the college freshman uncertain about her future to a potential star.

The relationship was a rare merging of both mind and body, ambition and art. Darien was thirty, she was eighteen. Her parents were concerned. Boyfriends were one thing, but a grown man in Lylah's life was a challenge, almost a threat. But four years of studying for a life chained behind a desk was never Lylah's dream and more than anything, the music she heard in her heart was what she wanted to vocalize to the world.

She had tried so many times to talk to her parents, to convince them that her dream was a legitimate ambition. Her brothers were more than supportive, they actually wanted to be a part of her career, but Marcus and Michael were in high school and too young to do much more beyond backing their sister.

Lylah's parents had listened, but they had not truly understood. They were traditionalists, believers in the practical rather than the magical. While they understood that their daughter possessed a unique talent, the ability to envision that she was capable of greatness, of ascending far beyond the nine-to-five lives that shackled them as well as everyone they knew, was a concept simply beyond them.

Discouraged by their lack of belief, Lylah stopped trying, and Darien eventually led her away like the Pied Piper.

Now, glancing at Darien walking ahead of her, she understood that his promises had not been empty at all, and when he had taken her to the recording studio of a friend to do a demo, Lylah knew the moment her lips almost brushed the microphone that something very special was about to happen. When the music started, she didn't even need to think about the words or what she would do. Her body moved in instantaneous rhythm, her voice bleeding the emotion from her heart and soul. It didn't matter which song Darien chose. Up-tempo or slow, modern or old school, Lylah's voice transcended the physical presence of her body.

She still remembered the look on Darien's face, as well as the technicians. It was as though they had witnessed a religious vision, their awestruck expressions a testament to the power of Lylah's voice. Darien had wasted no time in calling his contacts. Meetings were arranged within minutes, a contract emailed, and dates for a private venue set. Lylah had watched and listened with giddy excitement, the adrenaline pumping through her body. The floor seemed to lurch beneath her feet, and she felt that time itself had shifted and had launched her into a completely different direction.

When Lylah brought home a demo CD later that night, she had expected her family to be delighted. Darien had dropped her off, preferring Lylah to deal with her parents on her own terms. She had entered the house buzzing with excitement, and had eagerly loaded the CD into the player for everyone to listen to. Anxiously she watched her parents, for surely when they heard her voice they would understand the talent that their only daughter possessed, and her potential to reach the stars. But while Marcus and Michael were excited and ran around the house high-fiving and calling all their friends, Lylah's parents were guarded and subdued.

No matter how had she tried to get them to listen, they simply couldn't hear the music. Though they listened to her soaring voice, the passion behind each note, each word, eluded them. Stardom and success were unrealistic concepts relegated to a privileged few, not for a small town girl who had worked hard to earn a university scholarship. Rooted in a work ethic that didn't allow space for dreams, they could not share her excitement.

Lylah tried her best to swallow her disappointment, but that night, something inexorably changed. Two weeks later, she moved in with Darien and never looked back. While she still kept in touch with her brothers, she felt a sense of closure to this chapter of her life. Now, as she felt the firm grip of Darien's hand pulling her along to a faintly glowing area beyond the tree line, it seemed like her life had really begun that fateful day she had glimpsed Darien sitting in the congregation like a courier sent to pick up a very unique package.

As if sensing her thoughts, Darien stopped and turned to look at her. He grinned, his perfect teeth gleaming in the darkness.

"You ready for your surprise?" he asked, gripping her hand.

Lylah's gaze drifted toward the diffused light shifting from the trees. "You know how I love surprises."

Darien pulled her toward the light, which transformed into the flickering glow of lanterns. Hushed whispers and laughter punctuated the relentless serenade of the crickets and, following Darien further into the shadows, Lylah almost missed the sweating, naked bodies writhing in primal rhythm on the blanket-strewn ground like a human snake's nest. Hearing the discordant chorus of cries, moans and panting, she stopped to stare with a mixture of fascination and arousal.

While she had indulged in vigorous sexual fantasies, Lylah had never ventured into the area of group sex beyond images of threesomes or double penetration. As Darien drew her closer to the entwined bodies, she noticed some were black, others white, Asian or mixed-blood. It was actually difficult to clearly distinguish where one body started and another ended. The women were passed from cock to cock, each one eagerly filling a pussy, an ass or a gaping mouth. What a cock could not satisfy, a glut of hands and mouths did. Muscle slapped against muscle, tongues and fingers explored damp, flushed flesh.

The furious thrashing reminded Lylah of piranhas devouring prey, and she could already feel herself getting wet and intensely aroused. Darien, noticing her expression and quickened breath, stood expectantly beside her. Swallowing to ease the dryness in her throat, Lylah watched the synchronous flow of raw, animalistic sex. Male with male, female with female and everything in between played out before her.

Then her gaze fell on a porcelain-skinned blonde, her spray of platinum hair plastered against her damp back. Sandwiched between two black men, she was simultaneously impaled in the ass and pussy in a violently thrusting double penetration. In the tenuous light, Layla noticed the red hand marks rising from the perfect globes of her heart-shaped ass, her protuberant nipples and full, creamy breasts consumed by the men's hungry mouths.

Flailing and clutching the blankets, the girl's garbled cries ebbed and flowed in time with the others, but were abruptly stopped by the gaping pussy of a stunning black girl about the same age as Lylah. Shaved, the smooth mahogany flesh engorged and gleaming from multiple penetrations, the girl briefly caressed herself before straddling the blonde's mouth.

The blonde squirmed, her hands reaching up to clasp the smooth ass grinding against her face. Her tongue worked furiously, licking and sucking the spread lips and swollen clit presented like a succulent dessert. The blonde's fingers eagerly sought the crack of the black girl's ass and trailed them down her cleft to tease her tight quivering hole before plunging her fingers deep inside. The black girl cried out, leaned forward and thrust her hips against the blonde's questing fingers, her swathe of long charcoal hair whipping about her shoulders.

Entranced by the sinuous movements of the black girl, Lylah suddenly wanted nothing more than to be the mouth beneath her spread thighs. The girl suddenly turned toward her with amber eyes that shone like liquid honey, her wanton expression embracing Lylah with such intensity it was as though as she had physically touched Lylah.

Lylah gasped. Feeling a resonant ache between her thighs and a rush of sticky wetness against her thong, she realized she had just come. The girl smiled knowingly and abruptly rose from the blonde's mouth. She walked unabashedly toward Lylah, her lithe body moved with exquisite grace. She paused to stare into Lylah's eyes, then slowly, deliberately, started unbuttoning Lylah's blouse. Slipping it from Lylah's shoulders, she cupped and caressed Lylah's breasts before leaning down to take one nipple, then the other, into her hot mouth.

Crying out, Lylah felt a surge of pleasure unlike anything she had experienced with a man. The girl continued trailing her mouth down to the waist of Lylah's skirt before yanking it to the ground. Lylah felt lightheaded, dizzy and on the verge of collapse. The others on the ground vanished into an indistinct haze, and she barely noticed Darien, now naked, reaching toward the black girl and pushing her to her knees before Lylah.

Darien leaned toward her and brushed his lips against her ear. "Meet Therese," he whispered in a voice husky with desire.

Trembling, Lylah watched Therese rip off her thong and toss it to the ground. Her feverish eyes were matched only by the liquid heat of her mouth. Trailing her tongue along Lylah's swollen mound, she teased Lylah's lips with her fingers and the tip of her tongue until Lylah's pussy opened to her mouth like an exotic flower. When her tongue darted toward her clit, Lylah cried out, her legs buckling beneath her. Therese clasped her tightly and fell with her to the blankets.

Darien joined them, and together with Therese, enveloped Lylah until they became a single body, a single conduit of electric pleasure. Darien's eyes bore into Lylah as she lay on the blanket. Straddling her head, he ran his fingers through her tangled hair and guided her mouth onto his massive, engorged cock until his girth filled her throat. Feeling as though she watched herself from a distance, Lylah grabbed his pulsing meat and began furiously sucking.

She felt rather than saw Therese working her way down her sensitized flesh until she vanished behind Darien's thrusting body. Each brush of Therese's lips, each nibble of her teeth sent stabbing jolts of pleasure culminating in Lylah's core. Therese spread Lylah's thighs wide apart, her fingers and mouth seeking every moist crevice. Lylah's head whipped around as she struggled for breath against Darien's choking cock while Therese's fingers pumped her pussy.

Darien uttered a garbled cry as his cock began to violently jerk and jetted a stream of cum down Lylah's throat. She lapped furiously, her body drenched in sweat as Therese's relentless fingers finally brought her to a searing climax that erupted in a series of shuddering spasms. From her peripheral vision, Lylah glimpsed the others approaching until their bodies merged with hers. Hands, mouths and cocks explored her, the montage of hot, writhing flesh a sensory experience almost beyond her ability to comprehend.

The sensations, the unbridled pleasure screaming from every pore pushed her own experiences of self-exploration into the shadows. Now, as she was positioned onto one cock while another slid into her ass spread open by countless hands, Lylah slipped into a realm that transcended her conscious level of awareness. Therese mounted the face of an Asian man beneath Lylah and turned to kiss her and caress her breasts.

Darien stood between them and offered his still-rigid cock first to Therese to suck, then to Lylah. Finally, their tongues commingled as they trailed them along the length and breadth of Darien's cock while alternately sucking his pendulous, shaven balls. Almost delirious, her half-closed eyes barely focusing on the shifting bodies around her, Lylah surrendered herself to a night that transformed her so completely that she might as well have been the Phoenix rising from the ashes of her former life.

***

Delylah gasped as Therese's fingers strayed to the plump folds of her naked pussy. Blinking beneath the pulsing jets of warm water, her hands placed firmly against the shower wall, she turned almost in surprise to face a bemused Therese.

"I was wondering what it would take to get you back to planet Earth," Therese said with a soft smile. "Where did you go?"

Delylah smiled and kissed Therese on the lips. "Just remembering another time and place."

Therese lightly smacked Delylah's ass before turning off the jets. "Well, you can revisit another time. We've got to get ready. Did you forget about James Branagh?"

_Not likely_. The image of James' face was branded in Delylah's mind.

She and Therese quickly dried off and hurried to the walk-in closet in the dressing area. Delylah slipped into a pair of casual black capris with a cropped peach lace top while Therese wore a pair of faded jeans and a black one-shouldered top. Therese opted for her quick but ever elegant topknot while Delylah blow dried her hair into a mass of finger curls. Both opted for simple but dramatic makeup, and as Delylah sprayed herself with her signature perfume, she realized that she was actually feeling a little nervous about meeting James.

Delylah smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Now that was a first. It had been a long time since she had felt anxious or uneasy about anything or anyone, but it had also been a long time since she had met someone who had made such a powerful impression on her. She realized that even with constant performances and world travel, her life had still fallen into a measure of a routine. James was a wild card, a challenge that might not so easily be met.

Almost in response to her thoughts, a discreet knock rose from the door. Therese glanced at Delylah and went to answer it.

"Hey, Darien," she said, smiling at Darien, dressed in his signature black, then at the very handsome and more than a little sexy James Branagh, his camera draped around his neck as though it were part of his body.

"Therese, I'd like you to meet James Branagh," Darien said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," James said, shaking Therese's hand with a strong grip. "I understand you're Delylah's right-hand woman?"

Therese smiled. "Jill of all trades pretty much sums it up," she said, standing aside. "Please come in, James. Delylah's very excited to meet you."

She glanced at Darien as James stepped into the suite.

"Call me later," Darien said, before turning to leave. "We've got to go over the schedule for the Canadian tour."

Therese nodded and closed the door, following James to a small sitting area adjacent to a wet bar. James stopped in mid-stride when Delylah appeared and stared at her appraisingly.

"Delylah Fayre," James said, extending his hand. "I've waited a long time to meet you."

Snared by his hypnotic blue eyes, Delylah smiled and shook his hand. His touch was electric, almost sizzling, and the connection she felt was instantaneous. It was more than clear that James felt the same, and his smile conveyed the obvious warmth in his eyes.

"I think I'm the one who should be honored," Delylah said, motioning him to the soft cream leather couches. "Please sit down."

"Would you like some coffee, James?" Therese asked. "Or perhaps something stronger? We have whatever you need."

"Coffee would be fine, thank you," James said. "I think the concert was enough of a stimulant."

"I'll be right back," Therese said, retreating to the suite's kitchen.

Delylah crossed her legs and sat back against the couch. It was unusual for her to feel remotely awkward with anyone, but something about James' cool, deliberate behavior clearly signaled that he was in charge of the situation. His assessment of her was quite obvious, and she sensed it was more than just professional interest.

"You should have let us know you were attending the concert," she said. "We could have provided you with VIP seating."

James grinned disarmingly and leaned back against the couch. Delylah couldn't help but notice the tanned flesh exposed by the unbuttoned top of his shirt and the way his rolled-up shirt sleeves clung to the pleasing contours of his muscular arms. As she glanced at his face, she noticed faint crow's feet fanning around his hypnotic blue eyes.

She realized why James had stood out from the crowd. It was not only because of his height, but from a power aura of masculinity she could literally sniff, as though the pheromones literally oozed from his pores. This was no boy hamming it up for juvenile selfies filled with silly expressions and even sillier hand gestures. James was a man far removed from the herd mentality of the men she had become used to.

"I'm a photographer," James said, drinking in her features. "Like you, I exist through my art, and I can't experience a connection with my subject from a private booth or sectioned-off row. If you've studied my work, you'll know that spontaneity is my signature."

"That's an interesting attitude," Delylah said, wishing she had paid more attention to his work. "But one I can understand. I feed off the energy of my audience. It's a high unlike anything else, and I feel the music coursing through my body as surely as my blood flows through my veins."

Even as she spoke, James raised his camera and began snapping photos. Though Delylah was more than used to being in front of the lens, something about James' candid snapping felt almost intimate.

"You get right to it, don't you?" she said with a smile.

"Isn't that what you do?" James asked. "Besides, I came to find out who Delylah Fayre really is." He paused and lowered the camera. "And right now, I'm looking at her."

"Do you like what you see?"

"I wouldn't be here otherwise."

"Interesting," Delylah said, feeling a peculiar heat infuse her body. "Considering you've covered so many other notable people around the world."

"I pick my subjects for a reason," James said, raising the camera once again. "People are always contacting me about photo sessions, but I'm very selective. I have to feel a connection or else it doesn't work."

Delylah stared at the lens, envisioning James' beautiful blue eye behind it. "What connection do you feel with me?"

"I feel it on many levels, but on a primitive level, you arouse me. You embody a sensuality that many try to copy but can't because it's too forced, too rehearsed. You also celebrate a raw sexuality in a way that few other women can."

"It almost sounds as though you've been watching me for some time," Delylah said, growing more intrigued with James by the moment.

He lowered the camera and smiled. "For quite some time, actually. But I didn't want to waste time trudging through the channels of your entourage or waste time on meetings and endless talk. I wanted the experience to be, and I stress my keyword... spontaneous. I knew the opportunity would come... sooner or later."

"So when would you like to start?" Delylah asked. "I'm taking some time off before I head to Canada on the next leg of my tour."

"We can start now, if you like," James said, glancing at Therese as she returned with a tray of coffee, "perhaps as an ensemble with Therese. I feel the chemistry between you, and I'd love to be able to capture it."

Do you like this book? Be sure to check other books in this series

Delylah Fayre - Part 2

Delylah Fayre - Part 3

Delylah Fayre (Trilogy Bundle)

***

My Only Safe Place

***

Synopsis

A year after she fled Mads and his war against the angels, Tara is making a life for herself in a large anonymous city. She is finally beginning to believe that there may be some kind of life for herself and her son, Fen, but then everything changes in a single terrible moment, and the war is on her doorstep again.

Mads has never forgotten Tara, but when he realizes what she has done and who she has hidden from him, can he ever forgive her?

***

The library was quiet at night, and that was how Tara liked it best. She finished the shelf reading and turned in the papers to the front desk before taking clocking herself out.

It was a long walk back to the apartment, and it gave her time to think even as she stretched out legs that were sore from reshelving books and crouching to find missing volumes. She wished she could return to her job at the university, but with the war between the angels and the werewolves reaching a fever pitch, she didn't dare, not when they had found her once.

It had been a year since she ran from Mads, the alpha werewolf who was cutting a swathe of destruction through the ranks of the angels, using the weapon she had given him. A year had not dulled the sting of his lies or of the fact that at night, when she allowed herself to grieve, she still mourned him, still longed for his arms around her.

Everything had changed that night in Scotland, and when she had run, with an angel and a mysterious being known as the Three in One as her unlikely allies, she had run hard. The year had been a difficult one, the hardest she had ever known, and her travels had brought her to this large city, where she could disappear into the swell of humanity.

Her life was dark in some ways. She couldn't let any one get too close, and her ties with her family, tenuous though they had always been, were now cut for good. She flinched from every dark shadow that came at her from above, and some days, she was so angry about what Mads had done that she could have wept.

Still, opening the door to her fourth-story apartment, she knew that there were things that she wouldn't give up for the world.

"How was he, today?" she asked, hanging her purse by the door.

In his angelic form, Lukas was inhumanly beautiful and perfect. When she had told him that there was no place for half-naked men with tall, broad white wings on the run, he had folded himself inward and hidden the wings, though there was no disguising his handsome features or his long, almost completely unblinking gaze. Now he only looked like an amazingly handsome man in his late twenties, with curly hair and piercing gray eyes. He wore the jeans and the T-shirt she had purchased for him, and in his muscled arms, he held a baby that already held Tara's heart in his hands.

She took him from the angel's arms, and Lukas made a considering noise.

"He was restless today," the angel reported. "Fretful. Usually he sleeps so calmly, but today, it did not matter whether I held him or let him be, or sang. He senses something coming."

"Do you, little one?" crooned Tara, taking one of the canisters of her milk from the refrigerator. She set the milk on the stove to warm, and she sat down in the tiny kitchen, rocking him gently.

The baby opened eyes that were going to be a bright vivid blue, and she touched his petal-soft cheek with one careful finger.

"Beautiful Fen," she whispered. "I love you, baby, don't worry about what's coming. I will protect you, Lukas and I both."

Despite the fact that he was mostly occupied with childcare and groceries at the moment, Lukas was himself a warrior. Eons ago, he had been the guardian of prophecies, and when the other angels had gone to war with the werewolves, he had stood aside. He was nothing like his scarred and broken brothers, and when she needed him, he had come. He told her that she and Fen were important, but he could not say how, and when she pressed him, he looked so sad that she could not stand to ask further.

"It will be revealed in time," was all he would say, and with that she had to be content.

It was a small life that she had with her baby and her angelic companion. She went to the library to work, she came home, she cuddled her child, and she tried not to think about the child's father. This was far easier than being on the run, especially when she started to show, and she relaxed into the familiarity of her routine as she fed her son the warmed milk.

_Mads, damn you, you should be here,_ she thought emptily.

***

The hills echoed with howls of victory, and Mads stood up over his band, howling the loudest.

There were five dead angels on the ground, their bodies twisted and their wings wrenched. Before, no matter how much they hurt them, they could never kill the angels. Now, with Mads carrying the sword of the great hero Fenrisulfir, that had changed, and the werewolves were slowly, but surely turning the tide.

"We've won," exulted Kalle. He was shorter and lighter than Mads, but otherwise, he was his brother's double. He bounced on his feet, as ready to fight now as he had been a few hours ago, when the battle started.

"We've won a battle," corrected Nils, darker and slighter than either of them. He was the youngest of them now, and he had always been grimmer. "There are angels yet to fight."

Mads cleaned his sword, the thing that had brought all five angels down while his war band had engaged them, and he grinned at his companions.

The year had been a successful one, and slowly, word among the angels had spread. The attacks on their land had lessened. Discontent with that, the werewolves had gone hunting. It was a brutal measure, but one that he and the elders of the pack deemed necessary. They had been on the hunt for more than nine months.

As much as he was homesick, however, a part of his heart still reached out for Tara. Some nights, he thought the sword was a poor exchange for the woman he had fallen in love with. He wondered if she was safe, if she yet lived, and Kalle whistled insolently in his ear.

"I know what you are thinking, brother," he said mischievously. "Let me cure you of your misery. I know a young lady not a day from here who would make you forget everything that troubles you."

Mads' roar was a furious thing, and he swung a heavy backhanded blow at his brother, who dodged lazily.

"I'd give it up if I were you," Nils observed. "He's got a war to fight, after all."

"One that might be ending soon," Mads said thoughtfully.

They had seen fewer and fewer angels, this much was true, and the twenty men and women in his war band were tired from their long fight. He glanced around them and saw not only soldiers who he would trust with his life, but also people who were tired to the bone and longed for their home, for the cottages of Cairn Rock, where the werewolves lived freely and openly.

"I'm not done, but the rest of you are," he said finally. "There was talk of an angel in Boston, a powerful one. I can't take the lot of you into the city, so you head home. Nils and Kalle, you're with me, and then we'll make our way home together."

"What's one angel?" called Sivan, a tall, gaunt woman with a single eye. "Come home with us, Chief, celebrate with us."

There was a murmur of agreement, but Mads quelled it with a warning growl.

"The war's not done yet, Nils is right. I'll come home when it's right to do so."

It was a mark of their regard how much they wanted him to return with them, but he couldn't do it. He knew that if they returned, he would be surrounded by young werewolf women who wanted a place by his side, and that there would be pressure from his entire family to marry. Werewolf war leaders didn't have a long life because of the dangers of battle, and it was his duty to leave his blood behind in the form of sons and daughters.

He shook his head. There was no way he could return, not when his heart was missing. He looked up at the clear night sky, and when he simply thought of Tara's name, he ached.

_Boston,_ he decided. One last hunt in Boston, and it was time to get on with his life, whatever he made of it.

***

It was Tara's day off, but Lukas was no where to be found. Sometimes the angel would leave for days on end, off on his own strange errands and tasks, but when she expected him to be around, he always was.

Tara bounced Fen in her arms, biting her lip with worry. She knew that he haunted one of the large parks nearby sometimes, and she knew that once in a while, he had mentioned losing track of time, becoming lost. He had told her he would be with her today to take Fen outside into the warm summer day, but as the day drew on, and she didn't hear from him, she grew increasingly nervous.

Tara knew that she could take her son out on her own, but she also knew that it was safer to do so with a disguised angel nearby. Finally, she decided that she would go looking for Lukas, and with that, she rang the doorbell on the apartment next door.

Mrs. Erikson was an older widow who had looked after Fen before, and she was delighted to take a little bit of cash to watch him while Tara ran out for an hour. Tara knew that she wouldn't leave the house, and so she set off for the park at a brisk walk.

To her dismay, the day that had started out so bright and sunny was growing dimmer by the moment, and when she came to the park's gates, there were fat drops of rain pelting down around her. She passed families who were hustling out of the park as she entered, and a feeling of deep foreboding came over her.

She trotted along the paths because running would have meant admitting that something was wrong, and everywhere she looked for Lukas.

Tara was just beginning to give up hope when she heard growls from nearby and a pained groan. She had her phone in hand, ready to call the police when she realized that she recognized that groan.

She dashed into the trees and within a few moments, she found herself in a wilder area of the park, one that was shielded from view by high rocks and growth, and that was how she found Lukas.

He was flat on his back, and though he was wearing normal clothes, his wings had emerged from his back, turning his shirt to rags. Those same wings, strong enough to lift him off the ground, were bent and pinned to the ground, and standing over him were two gray wolves. He had been groaning before, but now he was lying frighteningly still.

Her mind tried to tell her that they were wild dogs, but she knew that they were not, especially when as one, they turned to look at her, and one of them had a pair of electric blue eyes that she still saw in her dreams.

"Please," she said softly, inching closer to them. "He hasn't done anything wrong... he doesn't hunt you. He's... he's gentle."

One of the wolves bared his teeth at her, but the other, the one with the blue eyes, transformed before her eyes. She realized very quickly that it wasn't Mads, but he looked enough like her lover that it made her heart constrict.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said bluntly. "I don't know what you know, but it's not enough. Whoever you are, run and hide, and we won't hurt you. Hurting humans isn't our business."

"He's my friend," she insisted. "He... he protects me, please, don't hurt him."

The wolf by the man's side growled warningly when she tried to come closer, and she halted, holding her hands up. She was almost dizzy with fear, with how fast things could change, and all she knew was that she could not allow the wolves to savage her friend.

She started to speak again, but then a voice cut through all of it, a voice that she had dreamed about and yearned for the better part of the last year.

"Tara?"

She spun around and found herself clasped in arms that were as strong as steel and her lips taken in a fiercely passionate kiss. There was no other response possible for her to this man, and she clung to him. She knew who it was without looking. There was no hesitation in her body and her mind, and she kissed him back fiercely.

It wasn't until he set her back that she could see the deep trouble that she and Lukas were in. Mads was dressed for battle, with a sword strapped to his side, and a part of her wondered how he had even gotten it through the Boston streets at all.

"He took you," Mads growled, glancing at the angel on the ground. "All this time, I thought you ran, and one of these bastards took you."

"No!" she cried, because she could see Lukas' death in Mads' furious gaze, and she put herself between Mads and the injured angel on the ground.

"No, I did run away," she said softly. "You betrayed me for that weapon you hold in your hands, and he helped me."

There was a moment of sheer rage in Mads' eyes, but his hands on her were still gentle.

"I love you," he said forcefully. "What does that mean to you?"

"It means..." she hesitated. It meant everything, but she had no idea how she was going to say that to him.

A sharp cry and a furious howl behind her took them both by surprise, and Lukas, who was less injured than Tara initially feared, threw himself into the air. There was nothing that either wolf or man could do to hold him, and when Mads charged him, slashing with the sword, he only flew higher.

"It is done," Lukas said, with aching regret in his voice, and Tara heard something in it that made goose bumps rise up on her arms.

"What? What is done?" she demanded, and he met her stare with grief.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Tara. Please take heart, it is for the best. I will see you again at the Aerie."

With nothing more than that, Lukas threw himself into the air, and was gone, leaving everyone to stare at Tara.

"Fen," she whispered. "Oh no, Fen!"

She took off running, but Mads caught her by the elbow again.

"Who or what is Fen?" he growled. "What are you hiding from me?"

She stared up at him, seeing the rage and the jealousy there, and suddenly, her own anger came up to meet it quickly and with the power of a tidal wave.

"My son," she shouted. "My son, my child, the one I carried from city to city! Lukas, that angel you were going to kill, helped me birth him, and helped me survive, and now I have to go to him! Let me go, Mads!"

With every word that she spoke, his hands tightened on her, and his face grew paler and paler.

"A child?" he said thickly. "A son?"

"My son," she cried. "Mine and yours, and now let me go!"

Whether he let her go from pain or from shock, she didn't know and didn't care. She ran as hard as she could, and she was only vaguely aware of the three following her, all human now.

She dashed up the stairs to her apartment, and to her shock and terror, she found Mrs. Erikson's door hanging open. The woman was in a dead sleep in her bedroom, but there was no sign of Fen. The only thing left was a long white feather that she knew came from no bird, and she shivered, thinking of her child in the arms of one of the burned and scarred angels.

Numbly, she woke up Mrs. Erikson and told her that she was taking Fen back, and then she went to the little apartment, a place that had felt so safe just a few hours ago. She let Mads and his friends in, because she couldn't think to do otherwise, and for a very long moment, she sat still as a statue in the kitchen chair.

She was prepared for Mads to shout, to be angry. She didn't even know what the penalty was for taking a child from its father among his people. She wondered dully if he would abandon her, or if he would leave in disgust. When he spoke, she was ready to hear anything except what he actually said.

"Tara, I'm so sorry," Mads murmured.

He dropped to his knees by her side, and he took her frigid hands in his. He was so warm, he always had been, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse into him. There had been too much time, though, and too much blood, and all she knew was that she didn't know him at all.

"He's... he's a beautiful boy," she found herself saying woodenly. "He came out perfectly, Mads. So strong, and so... so loud. He has eyes just like yours..."

Mads made a pained sound deep in his throat, and then the decision was taken away from her. He swept her up in his arms, and it was such a relief that she simply fell into him. It was what she had been yearning for the past year, and now that he was so close, she couldn't resist his scent, his touch, and his strength.

"We'll get him back, Tara, I promise." Mads whispered the words into her hair, and Tara could only nod tightly. She heard the truth in his voice, the honesty, but then she had thought she could tell when he was lying before.

After a long moment, she drew back, and blinked at the two other men who were watching them closely.

Mads followed her gaze and nodded. "Tara, let me introduce you to my brothers. The idiot with the smile on his face is Kalle, and the quiet one who always glares is Nils. Nils, Kalle, this is Tara."

"The famous Tara," Kalle murmured, and she was struck all over again by how much he looked like Mads.

"I need to pack," she said. "If we're going to find the Aerie, I'll need to have more than my flannel pajamas on me, like I did last time."

She went into her room, where she started to pack an old backpack full of things that she might need. Her hand hesitated over the book of unbinding, which she had kept at the very back of her sock drawer. It was a rather ridiculous place for something so precious, but no one had found it yet. She stuffed it deep into her pack, but before she could go out to join the wolves in her kitchen, she noticed a fluttering piece of paper tacked to the back of her door.

When she pulled it down, she saw directions, and coordinates that could be put into a GPS. They were all written in Lukas' tidy hand, and at the very bottom, she saw that he had written _Forgive me._

_Perhaps_ **,** she thought grimly. _Perhaps I will when this is long over._

Tying her thick hair back into a ponytail, she went out to give this information to Mads.

***

Against their protests, Mads had sent his brothers home. They were furious about it, stating that Mads needed them, and that of course this was a trap. Tara had anticipated long debates, but all Mads had done was snarl at them both, and when Kalle looked like he wanted to contest the ruling, Mads stepped up to him to stare him down.

There was a long moment where Tara was afraid that they would come to blows, but then Kalle stepped back, breaking the contact easily and gracefully.

"We worry about you, big brother," he said. "And if you're not back in a decent time, I swear that I'll send the whole war party after you."

Mads smiled wryly. "Do that," he said, "but I'll be back before you know I'm gone."

Tara watched in fascination as Mads' brothers turned back into wolves. They were enormous, but when they barked happily and sat up for treats, anyone who didn't know what they were looking at would have passed them off for dogs.

Mads loaded them into the back of the truck, the same one that he had driven what felt like so long ago. They drove in silence for hours, until they came to the edge of a national forest, and both brothers vaulted out of the truck bed and were lost to the trees.

"They'll make better time going home like this," he explained, and she raised an eyebrow.

"I guess it has nothing to do with the fact that they were both giving you so much trouble back at the house?"

Mads shrugged, smiling a little, and they got on the road again. It would be a long trip, and there was so much between them that they didn't know what to say.

It wasn't until hours later that Tara broke the silence, and when she did so, it was to ask a question that had been preying upon her for the better part of a year.

"Why did you do it?" she asked softly. "Why did you lie to me?"

Mads glanced at her, and though he looked back at the road very quickly, she could see the momentary grief and loss that came across his face.

"There were a lot of reasons," he admitted. "Some of them I only understood later, some of them were simply because I was selfish and short-sighted."

He sighed."I looked at you, and in a heartbeat, I saw that you weren't a killer. That made you different from everyone else I had ever known, from myself, from my brothers. You lived a life untouched by this kind of violence, and I couldn't imagine you helping me. You would never condone me trying to find a weapon that was designed to end lives."

"Why not wake up the Fenrisulfir?" she asked. "You told me about him. You told me that he would bring this all under his control."

Mads laughed harshly. "The Fenrisulfir was a man who lived a long time ago, like King Arthur. He's more a story than anything real, and it's a fairytale that we tell cubs that he will return someday."

"A fairytale like werewolves and angels?" she asked archly, and he grinned wryly at her point.

"So you didn't trust me, and then you got what you wanted. Were you going to leave me on that field in Scotland?"

Mads' hands tightened on the wheel. "Never," he said, looking straight ahead. "I went off to fight, and then I came straight to try to find you. I wanted to... to explain, to thank you for the good that you had done, even if you didn't see it. I wanted to do anything to win you back, because Tara, for me, it was never just about the sword. It hadn't been about the sword since I met you."

He swallowed hard. "I knew that there was an angel unaccounted for. I fought three. I killed three, but I saw four in the sky. What do you think I felt when I followed your trail, and it just... ended in the middle of nowhere?"

"What did you do?" she asked, her mouth dry.

His laugh was a hopeless sound.

"I searched. I searched all night and into the next day. I howled for you, I screamed your name. Around every stone and down every gully I thought I would find your broken body, where an angel dropped you. That's one way they kill, did you know that? They lift you into the air and just....drop you."

She shivered, because she could see him doing it. She could all too easily imagine him baying for her in the darkness of the Scottish country side, and then finding nothing.

"Why did you go to him?" Mads asked. "Why an angel, why that?"

"Because the Three in One sent him to me," she said softly. "When... when you lied to me, when you lied to my face about what I was to you and what you needed me to do, I was sick right to my heart, Mads. I couldn't take it. I ran, and I knew that you would just come after me and convince me that it was all fine. You could do that, and I needed to find my own strength. I needed to think about what you had done and to find out if I could forgive you on my own. I couldn't wait for you to tell me what to think."

"And now that you've had the time that you need to think about it?"

She shook her head. "It's not fair, Mads, not like this. You can't come out of nowhere and demand an answer from me."

"What about my son?" There was a tautness to his voice now, a throbbing of rage and grief and something else that she couldn't name.

"I didn't know that I was pregnant until I left. Then how could I risk him? You might have taken him away from me. You might have done anything."

"I would have respected your wishes," Mads said, a hint of that bright temper burning through. "My people believe that children belong with their mothers, and it is their mothers who choose where they wish to live and with whom."

"I didn't know that, and what was I to do? Did you want me to bring myself and my child into a war that you were intent on fighting?"

Mads was still after that, and Tara stared out of the window. There was so much in the air between them, and she thought that if she looked at him too long, she might simply fall back into his arms. She couldn't afford to do that, not when her child was lost, perhaps frightened, perhaps hurt.

They stopped for the night at a hotel in the middle of nowhere. The sign said that they were in Indiana, but to her, the Midwest simply flowed from one flat field to another. She didn't flinch when Mads signed them in as man and wife, but the single bed gave her a pause.

"They didn't have anything else," Mads said stiffly. "I'll take the floor."

Silently, she made her way to the bathroom to bathe, and when she was clean, she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked delicate, even frail. She looked foreign to herself, and for a long moment, Tara wasn't sure that she recognized herself at all.

"What do you want?" she whispered to her own reflection, and the answer was there. It was simple, and she realized that in some ways, nothing was simpler. She took off the towel and hung it up, and then, stark naked as the day she was born, she walked back into the hotel room.

Mads looked up when she came out, and his eyes widened. He climbed to his feet, watching her warily, but she could see the immediate flame of desire in his eyes and the sudden tenseness of his body.

"What are you playing at, Tara?" he asked roughly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What I want," she said raggedly. "What we both want. It's been so long, Mads. I've missed you. I want you."

Mads closed the space between them in a few long strides, and though she expected to be crushed to him in a passionate embrace, he held her gently, as if certain she would break.

"Tara, I thought you were dead," he whispered. "I grieved for so long."

She bit her tongue on an apology, but he didn't need one. He tilted her face up with his finger on her chin, and the kiss he gave her was deep and restrained. His tongue pressed between her lips, and she opened to him willingly. She could feel his hard cock between them, and when she pressed herself closer to him, he groaned.

"Don't tempt me if you don't mean it," he whispered. "I couldn't stand that."

"I'm not teasing you," she said, looking deeply into his eyes. "I want you. I don't know much, but I know that."

With aching tenderness, he scooped her up and deposited her in the middle of the enormous bed. She had slept in a scavenged twin bed for so long that this felt like an unspeakable luxury, and as she watched through heavy-lidded eyes, Mads stripped down to his skin. She flinched to see that there were more scars there, and where there had been five triangular tattoos over his hear when they first met, now there were seven.

"More lost friends," she said as he came to rest next to her.

He dropped his gaze when she brushed her fingers across them and nodded.

"Niall and Hild," he answered. "Lost in battle."

She considered and then leaned down to kiss each mark, one for each companion he had lost.

He shivered under her touch, and though his hands came up to clasp her shoulders, he did not pull her away. Inquisitive, she lapped her tongue over his skin, tasting the salt of his flesh and reveling in the way his muscles responded so completely to her.

She nuzzled first one small flat nipple and then the other, and when he made a pleased sound, she pressed her thigh against his cock, feeling its weight and its heat.

"You want me," she murmured.

"Never doubt it."

She kissed and lapped at his neck. The taste of him was so familiar on her tongue that she purred, and she stroked his flanks gently, running the tips of her fingers up and down.

"You've always called me beautiful, but I don't know if I've ever said the same to you," she mused. "You are, you know. Perfect, scars and all, and I have missed you."

Mads groaned as if something was being drawn out of him, and he palmed her belly, stroking the soft and tender skin there.

"There are marks here now," he said softly. "And you're softer. It only makes you more beautiful to me, and more sorrowful that I could not be here."

She quieted him with her mouth over his, and they passed long minutes like that, simply kissing and relearning each other. When Tara would have leaned up to kiss him more thoroughly, he pressed her to the bed.

"Let me," he said thickly. "It's been too long."

With no more warning than that, he started to kiss her, starting with the curve of her forehead, down her cheeks and stopping to press sweetly passionate kisses to her mouth. When she would have kept him there, he moved on to her neck and her collarbones, and then he pressed his mouth to her aching breasts, bigger now, with nipples that were lovely and dark.

He pulled on first one and then the other, lapping at the tip with care, and when she threatened to arch off of the bed, he only laughed and told her to be patient. He trailed kisses down her ribs and over her belly, pausing to bite her hip bones with the tenderest care.

It occurred to her that he was relearning her, finding what was different and what had changed over the course of the year they had been apart. There was such longing in his touch that tears came to her eyes, and she cradled his head in her hands, tangling her fingers in his hair.

There was something tender about the way he kissed her hips and her legs, and though his hands ghosted over the hair of her legs, he only planted the softest kiss there before moving on. She squirmed when his mouth ended up on the ticklish part behind her knees, but she sighed when he laved his tongue over the bump of her heel and the curve of her foot.

Slowly he worked his way back up, and somewhere in that timeless while, she could feel herself grow wet and wanting. It had been so long, and she felt like a different person now. Some trace of her unease must have shown on her face, because he reached up to stroke her face.

"It doesn't matter," he started to say. "We can stop if you want, we don't need to..."

Hearing his concern tore at her heart, and she shook her head against the tears that stung her eyes. "No, no, it is only that I want you so much..."

His smile was sweet and gentle, and he leaned up to place another kiss on her lips. "I want you like I want food and fire," he whispered. "This is coming home."

He settled beside her, and though she could feel his cock against her hip, there was no haste in his motions at all.

Instead, he swept his hand between her legs, stroking gently until they parted for him, and then he traced his fingertips long her damp slit. He circled her clit slowly, making her hips roll with desire, and then he pressed a finger inside.

She flinched, and he halted, a look of concern on his face.

"No, it's just... it's been a while. Go slow?"

"As slow as you like," he promised

With gentle rocking motions and an infinite patience, he eased a finger inside her. Even that felt like a stretch, and Tara concentrated on looking into Mads' eyes as he opened her.

"There," he whispered. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Yes, oh yes..."

He held his hand still while he kissed her, and then he was edging a second finger in. It went easier than the first hand, and the third went more easily still. He was thrusting his fingers into her slowly and steadily, and before she knew it, she was frantic for more.

"Please?" she asked plaintively. "Please now?"

"You're tight, it might hurt you..."

Tara shook her head violently. "I don't care. I don't. All that matters to me right now is being with you. Please, Mads?"

He searched her face, and then he nodded.

Instead of coming over her as she expected, he lay down beside her and lifted her up instead. With that quick savage strength that had protected her so well, he set her straddled on top of him, and pressed flat between their bodies was his cock.

"Put it in," he whispered. "I want to know you want it."

Biting her lip, Tara reached down and stroked her hand around his cock a few times. It was achingly hard, and there was already a trickle of dampness from the tip. It was broader than she remembered, and she knew that he would stretch her.

Just the tip was enough to make her gasp, and she rocked for a moment, easing herself down further.

"Don't make it hurt you," Mads said. "I couldn't take that."

She couldn't tell him that the slight ache and sting only intensified the pleasure. She loved how large he was, how she could barely take him, and the slow slide onto him made her faint with the sensations it brought.

Finally, she pressed herself down on top of him with one quick thrust, making both of them cry out. This feeling of completion, of unity was what she had been missing for the past year, and she wanted to weep with how perfect it was.

Mads' hands came up around her hips, holding her steady, and his body rolled underneath her.

"Yes?" he asked through gritted teeth, and she nodded wildly.

That was all the permission he needed to lift her nearly entirely off of him and to bring her down again. The long slow stroke pushed the pleasure inside her up to a fever pitch, and she writhed in his grasp, wanting more and needing more as well.

He lifted her slowly a few more times, until the sting of his entrance was nothing more than memory, and she was slippery with need. She was desperate for him, starved for more, and she struggled against the hands that were keeping her from taking him fully.

"Please, please now, Mads, I can't wait any more..."

She was ready to beg, but now she could tell that he was as desperate for it as he was. He tightened his grip on her hips and brought her down hard on top of him, making her feel every inch of his length, and then he did it again. He pulled her to him with sharp, almost violent motions, and when she was wailing with need, he stilled for a moment.

"Touch yourself," he panted. "Just like you would if you were alone. I want to see it."

She groaned with embarrassment, aware that her cheeks were flushed bright red, but her hand went eagerly between her legs. She stroked her aching clit, and in less time than she thought possible, she was exploding like a night sky full of firecrackers. The pleasure took her body almost savagely, and she knew that she was tightening around him, thrashing against him.

Mads growled and thrust into her even harder, and when he spilled in her, his hands tightened on her hips until she was sure he had left bruises. After a long moment, he eased out of her carefully, bringing her to lie by his side.

Tara felt as if she was boneless. All of the energy had gone out of her, and after a long moment, she pressed her face to Mads' broad chest. She clung to him, and when the tears came, she only shook her head when he asked her what was wrong.

The sobs shook her shoulders, and she felt as helpless as she had when pleasure was wracking her body. Her climax was so immense that she could barely keep her emotions under control, and now they bubbled up, spilling out of her. She cried out all of the grief and the pain that she felt she had hidden for the past year, and Mads only stroked her hair and muttered comforting things in her ear.

It felt like she had been crying for hours, but then she finally pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." she began, but Mads touched her hand gently.

"It's fine," he said softly. "I want you to have what you need, and just then, you needed to cry."

He held her for a long moment, and then he rose to go to the bathroom. He came back with a dampened cloth, and when she nodded, he cleaned her face and her body. The warm wetness of the towel and his soft words of love and comfort made her drowsy.

Tara stretched out on the bed and watched him move through the room, smiling at his strength and his grace.

There was nothing in this room that could hurt them. She knew it, and she clung to it. She knew that the next day, they would go to find their child, and that there would be danger in front of them. She knew that there was a chance that she and Mads would end up dead. Her heart hurt when she thought of Fen, and how alone he must be without her, but that was for tomorrow.

Tonight, there was nothing else that they could do, and when he came back to the bed, she reached for him.

"We will find him," Mads said, but he stilled at her sad look.

"Don't," she said. "Don't promise me things that you can't know. Never lie to me again, Mads."

After a long moment, he nodded. She understood why he had lied before, even if she had not entirely forgiven him, and now he looked at her with perfect seriousness in his blue eyes.

"I will never lie to you again," he swore, "not in all our lives together, and I hope you allow me to stay with you. Even if you do not, I would rather die than lie to you again."

She looked in his face, and she felt in her heart that he was telling the truth.

Mutely, she reached for him and he settled in her arms

Tara fell asleep almost immediately, and her dreams were dark things. She had lost both Fen and Mads, and she couldn't find them. She rose in the night, and Mads was there to lull her to sleep again.

In the morning, they rose, and though she lingered in the doorway of the homely little room, she left it without a glance back.

Her path lay in front of her, not behind, and she took Mads' hand firmly in her own.

"Are you all right?" he asked, locking the door behind them.

Tara thought about the question seriously and honestly, and finally, she nodded.

"I will be when we find our son," she said, and he looked startled.

"I want us to be together. I want us to be a family."

Mads swept her up in a hug that was fierce and relieved, and she hugged him back just as hard.

"Thank you," he whispered, and she knew they were ready to take on anything the world threw at them.

Do you like this book? Be sure to check other books in this series

To Soar with Eagles - Volume 5

Love at the End of the World - Volume 6

Hunting Hearts II (Trilogy Bundle)

Be sure to check the first part of this series

The Book of Unbound Chains - Volume 1

Dreams of a Restless Sleep - Volume 2

The Wolf Released - Volume 3

Hunting Hearts (Trilogy Bundle)

***

The Secrets of Longfellow Castle

***

Synopsis

University student Sophia Marshall has always been fascinated with Longfellow Castle and the rumors that it was once the home of vampires. A shy and innocent virgin, she decides to make the historic old building the subject of her thesis paper and dares to ask the current resident for an interview. Logan Longfellow is handsome and charming, and invites Sophia in for a guided tour and possibly a bite. Passion, love, and lust abound as Sophia discovers the dark secrets that Logan has been hiding behind the walls of Longfellow Castle and he shows her a part of herself she never knew existed.

***

Chapter One

Sophia Marshall's hands were trembling as she reached out for the ornate brass knocker on the heavy front door. Embarrassed by the foolishness of her anxiety, she shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket and forced herself to take deep calming breaths.

_Get a hold of yourself! It's just an ordinary house with ordinary people_. She recognized that her fear was just an automatic reaction brought on by a lifetime of hearing rumors. Ever since she was a little girl, she'd heard the scary stories about Longfellow Castle and how the people who lived there were vampires. It was a silly superstition passed around by school children and told at campfires for a thrill. The stories were nothing more than that, and Sophia knew that more than anybody.

She'd spent her entire senior year at the university researching the history of Longfellow Castle. She knew everything there was to know about the architecture of the magnificent building, the genealogy of the family who owned it, and the social history of how the rumors of vampires and fears of the townspeople had grown into the legend it was today. She had decided to write her thesis paper on the subject. With any luck, it would earn her an "A" from her professor and allow her to graduate with a degree in Societal History. She'd been working on the project for months, and the only thing Sophia had left to do to make her thesis paper complete was to interview the residents of Longfellow Castle.

Sophia realized that her trembling wasn't because she feared the house, as much as it was fear of not being let inside. No one had seen or talked to anyone in the castle in years, and the owners were notorious for keeping their privacy. If she could get an interview with someone who lived in the castle, it would practically guarantee her an "A" on her paper, and an internship at the Institute of Societal History, which had been her dream career for as long as she could remember. If they turned her down, she would be heartbroken.

_What if they tell me to leave? What if they won't even open the door?_ Sophia took a quick inventory of herself to make sure she was presentable, hoping that would help convince them to talk to her. Her school uniform looked proper, with black tights covering her long legs, oxford heels on her feet, a pleated light-gray skirt grazing her knees, her white cotton blouse neatly pressed, and finally her black school blazer with the university crest emblazoned on the front. Her auburn hair hung to her shoulders in soft waves, her creamy skin was clean and fresh, and her blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and excitement. A notebook, pen, and recorder were tucked under her left arm. Sophia realized she was as ready as she could be; now she just had to go for it!

Taking a deep breath for courage, she reached out a second time for the knocker on the front door and sounded it firmly against the solid wood. It echoed through the walls as loudly as her heart beat in her chest.

Long moments passed without any movement within the stately castle, and her excitement began to fade. Sophia sounded the knocker again and heard it vibrating through the walls once more, but that was all. No footsteps could be heard coming to the door.

She waited for several long minutes, then finally turned away from the door with a disappointed sigh and started down the steps to go back home. The sun had just set over the hills in the distance, and it was a brisk evening. She pulled her blazer more tightly around herself as a sudden gust of wind hit her, and the movement made her accidentally drop the items she'd been holding under her arm. They fell down the front steps, scattering papers from her notebook everywhere and shattering her recorder.

"Damn it!" Sophia cried, and tears of frustration welled in her eyes.

"That is a pity. Let me help you," a deep male voice said softly from behind her.

Sophia stifled a scream of surprise and turned to see an incredibly handsome man standing in the doorway of the castle. He was very tall, with a lean yet muscular build, and appeared to be about thirty years old. He had blond hair that hung to his shoulders and pale blue eyes. The moonlight made his skin appear so pale it was practically luminescent.

_No wonder people think the Longfellows are vampires_.

The man saw her smile and took it as consent of his offer to help. He quickly joined her on the front steps, grabbing her papers before they could all blow completely away.

"Thank you," Sophia said, as the handsome stranger handed her the pile he'd retrieved. A frown creased his brow as he noticed the documents included articles about the castle. Sophia knew she'd better explain quickly. She extended her hand and put a warm smile on her face. "I'm Sophia Marshall, a student at the university. I'm writing a thesis paper on the history of Longfellow Castle. I was wondering if I could interview you about the house and perhaps take some photographs."

"No pictures! No interviews! I did not suspect you were another vampire groupie, or I wouldn't have helped you! Now get off my property!" The man was suddenly enraged. He swept toward the door, preparing to slam it shut in her face.

Impulsively, Sophia shoved her notebook into the crack of door, just in time to block him from being able to shut it completely.

"Wait!" she cried. "This isn't some article for the gossip magazines about vampires. This is a legitimate thesis paper on the architecture and social history of this castle! It's beautiful! It's the most unique and long-standing home in this entire town and I've always loved it! I wanted to study its history, know about the people who built it, and let people come to appreciate it and know that it's not something to be feared and rumored about. Please, don't lock me out!"

The man paused and widened the crack in the door enough to look at her. His gaze was penetrating and Sophia felt awkward under his unblinking stare, but she held her head high and let him appraise her. She had no hidden motive, and she wanted him to know that. After a moment, he opened the door fully, stepped back and indicated for her to enter with a sweep of his hand. "Okay, I'll consent to an interview, but no photographs. I'm Logan Longfellow, the last surviving heir of this castle. I'll tell you everything I know. Please come in and have a bite."

Sophia's heart was pounding in her chest as she crossed the threshold and the door latched shut behind her. She knew this moment was going to change her life, but she had no idea just how much.

Chapter Two

Logan Longfellow was intelligent, witty, and charming. He led Sophia through the castle, room by room, telling her about each one as they went. The rooms were even more beautiful than she had imagined they would be, but it was the rich memories that Logan shared with her that had her utterly enthralled. His stories made her laugh and cry and gave her an even deeper appreciation for the castle and newfound respect for the people who lived there.

Logan was impressed by Sophia's knowledge of his home and the intelligence of her questions. It was obvious she'd spent a lot of time researching the subject, and he wondered if she didn't know more about his childhood home than he did. At first, she scribbled notes on her pad as quickly as her fingers could write, but soon her research was forgotten and they talked as two friends would when both were deeply passionate about the subject they were discussing. It had been such a long time since Logan had talked intimately with someone; he hadn't realized how hungry he had become for companionship. He drew his stories out, wanting her to stay as long as possible.

"Is the fireplace functional?" Sophia asked, admiring the brickwork of the large fireplace in the upstairs library, but noticing that it was cold and barren of any ashes. She could imagine residents from long ago warming themselves by the fire on cold winter days as they read the books that lined the walls.

Logan shook his head sadly. "No. One year a little girl was found dead and drained of her blood in the woods near the castle. The police never found any cause to suspect my family, but the rumors that we were vampires were well established by then and without any true suspects in the case, my family was blamed by many of the townspeople. The girl's father swore vengeance and one night he climbed onto the roof and collapsed several of the chimneys in an attempt to smoke us out. They were never restored and haven't worked since."

Sophia had read about the incident in her research, but seeing one of the actual fireplaces from the event brought it to life for her in a whole new way. The brickwork was beautiful and intricate. It was a pity to see it cold and unused. "I bet your family was relieved that the girl's father was arrested for destruction of property."

Logan shook his head. "You would think so, but Mr. Murray had been a beloved man in this town, and the death of his daughter made him even more so. The townspeople hated us more than ever after he was arrested, even though we'd asked the police not to press charges. When he was sentenced to jail, we feared a lynch mob would try and kill us all."

"You talk as if you were actually there." Sophia giggled, knowing the event had taken place half a century before Logan had been born.

He smiled at the sound of her laughter, and they were both relieved to have the serious mood in the air lightened.

Logan leaned in close, wanting to kiss her soft rosy lips, but suddenly caught himself and crossed quickly to the window where the curtains were drawn tightly closed. "That's when the original fence was removed and a new, taller security fence installed. It wasn't as pretty, but it worked wonders at keeping out unwanted guests."

Sophia joined him at the window, disappointed that he hadn't kissed her, and pulled open the drapes so she could peer at the fence with him. As they curtains opened, they were both startled to discover the night sky was just beginning to lighten with the coming dawn. The black sky was morphing into a deep purple, and lowest on the horizon, the first hues of fuchsia heralded the rising sun.

Sophia gasped. "Have we really been talking all night long? I can't believe the time went so fast!"

"Me neither." Logan looked alarmed. He quickly pulled the drapes closed and turned to Sophia with a look of terror in his eyes. "I'm afraid I must ask you to leave."

"I know; I've got class in just a few hours!" Sophia said, rushing down the long staircase to the entrance hall. "Thank you so much for the interview! Is there any way we can continue it tomorrow night? There was so much more I wanted to ask you and your stories are so amazing. I've always known this was an incredible building, but talking to you has shown me that it's much more than that. You've shown me that this castle is a home."

Logan flushed inside. He had never intended to let this girl into his house or his heart, but he'd been impressed by her enthusiasm and drawn by her passion. He'd meant to give her a fast tour, maybe answer a few questions, then kick her out the door; but each question she'd asked was more intelligent and inspiring than the last. He'd felt moved to tell her in-depth stories about each room, which somehow turned into a heartfelt talk that had lasted all night long. Even now, he didn't want to see her go, but circumstances dictated that he must.

Logan knew he should shut the door on her and never let her in again, but it was already too late. Just looking at her bright blue eyes, sparkling with hope, he couldn't bear the thought of turning her down. She was so full of life and enthusiasm, that it was contagious. Being with her made him feel, young, vibrant and alive in a way he hadn't felt in a very long time. He wanted to see her again, desperately, even though he knew he shouldn't. The risks to both of them would be too great, and yet he couldn't resist the longing he felt to see her again.

Thinking only with his heart and not his common sense, Logan caressed Sophia's cheek as he opened the door to let her out. "Be here right after sunset tomorrow night. I'll cook you dinner and tell you enough stories to fill ten thesis papers."

"Deal!" Sophia said with a happy squeal as she bounded out the door.

She met him again the following night, and the night after that, and then every night that week, staying from sunset to sunrise every time.

They couldn't get enough of each other's company, and quickly gave up the pretense that she was still gathering research for her paper. They had fallen in love and wanted to be together as much as possible, although that proved difficult at times.

Sophia had classes during the day, so it was fine that Logan only wanted to meet at night, but she wasn't getting enough sleep and it was beginning to take a toll on her.

"Don't go yet, the night is young." Logan held her softly in his arms on the antique loveseat in his sitting room. They had been kissing, and her lips tasted so sweet and delicious, he wanted more. He knew she was still a virgin, so he took things slow with her, satisfied to just make-out and let her set the pace.

When she slid her hands up under his shirt to feel his hard pectoral muscles, he followed suit and gently moved his hands under her blouse to cup her breasts. They were firm and round, and she gasped with surprise at the sensation of feeling a man's hands upon them for the first time.

Moving slowly, so as not to scare her, Logan caressed her soft flesh and a moan of pleasure came from her lips. Feeling daring, Sophia undid the buttons of the white cotton blouse that was part of her school uniform, giving him easier access to her breasts. She hadn't worn a bra that night, in hopes that their making-out might lead to this.

Logan delicately put his lips to her exposed flesh, kissing her breasts as he cupped and massaged them. It was the most incredible sensation Sophia had ever experienced, and thrills of sexual excitement pulsed through her body. Her breathing quickened and soft moans of pleasure escaped her lips. When he brought his mouth to her dark pink nipples and suckled her there, the pleasure was so intense, she gasped and threw back her head, arching her back and panting.

She became aware of a wetness growing between her legs and her panties grew sticky with it. Something deep inside her, that she'd never felt before, yearned to have him enter her, and she began to spread her thighs.

Suddenly, the alarm on her watch began to beep, breaking the magical spell of the moment. She had an important test at school the next day and had set the alarm as a way to make sure she got enough sleep. Now she almost regretted doing so, although she still realized it was for the best.

"I have to go," she said regretfully, pulling herself slowly away from Logan's embrace and buttoning her blouse closed again.

"Please, just stay a little longer," Logan pleaded

"I can't. I have an exam tomorrow, and I really need to get my sleep. You might be fine to stay up till dawn every night, but I just can't do it anymore. I'm going home to sleep, and I'm not going to come here tomorrow night. If you want to see me, meet me in the afternoon, after my last class of the day. We can have a picnic in the park and enjoy the sunshine. It will be a nice change from all this meeting in the dark and hiding indoors all the time."

Sophia was smiling, excited about her idea, but Logan looked oddly concerned. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I want to see you, but it has to be after sunset. We can have a picnic under the moonlight, instead."

"Why?" Sophia asked, her enthusiastic smile turning into an annoyed frown. Sleep deprivation was making her impatient and easily aggravated. "I come here all the time, but you never meet me anywhere or go places with me. Are you ashamed to be seen with me?"

"No, not at all! I couldn't be more proud of you, and it's an honor that you allow me to be your boyfriend. I just can't meet you during the day."

Sophia's nerves were frayed from exhaustion, and she refused to be placated. She stormed to the front door in a furry.

"That's what you always say! You're happy to have me come here to your house so we can make out, but anytime I suggest we go someplace, you refuse! I'm not some cheap call girl who will show up at your door, so you can take advantage of her! I'm never come back here again! If you want to be my boyfriend and have a real relationship with me, it has to be on equal terms! You have to come to me, out in the real world! I'm not going hide with you, locked away in this castle, any longer! Goodbye!"

"Sophia, wait!" Logan called after her, but it was too late. She slammed the door behind her and ran into the street, sobbing with her broken heart.

Logan hesitated, torn between his heart and his fears. If he didn't want to lose Sophia, he would have to reveal his secret to her. Of course, once she knew the truth about him, he might lose her anyway. It was a risk he'd been aware of from the very beginning, even though he'd told himself he kept the secret as a way to protect her from the dangers knowing the truth might place her in.

Logan loved Sophia too much not to try and make things work between them. Her life was in danger now anyway, just because she'd been in his company for so long. There could be denying they were in a relationship, and his enemies knew that. Telling her the truth now was the best way to keep her safe, for at least then she would have a fighting chance. Whether or not she could accept him for what he was, once he told her, was completely up to her. In his heart, Logan thought he knew what her reaction would be.

Chapter Three

Sophia was blinded by her tears as she ran down the sidewalk. She knew she had over-reacted, but staying every night that week had left her utterly exhausted and overly emotional. She didn't really want to break up with Logan, she loved him, but something was definitely going to have to change between them if they were going to continue this relationship. She hoped desperately that he would chase after her and they could form a compromise together. When she heard the sound of male footsteps behind her, she smiled, hoping it was him. When she turned around, however, she got a nasty surprise.

It wasn't Logan behind her at all, but a gang of six large men. She recognized them as being the troublemakers who frequented the bars near the university campus. It was obvious they had been drinking as they laughed and joked with each other. They were often rowdy and rude, harassing girls as they walked down the sidewalk. Sophia knew she wouldn't be able to outpace them, so she stepped to the side, pretending to adjust her jacket, hoping they would pass her by.

The plan nearly worked, as the gang strolled by, but then the last one in the group stopped and turned around to look her up and down crudely.

"Hey, sweet thing! What are you doing out all alone on a night like tonight? Are you looking for a little action?" he called out to her.

The rest of the gang took notice, and they all joined him, encircling her on the sidewalk.

"I'm just joining my friends. In fact, I'm late and they'll be looking for me if I don't get there soon, so I'd better hurry," Sophia said in a trembling voice, but the lie sounded weak even to her and she knew they wouldn't believe it.

"You don't need to join your friends. You've got plenty of friends right here," the gang member said.

One of his buddies stepped closer and caressed Sophia's hair. "Yeah, we're real friendly. Why don't you come be friends with us tonight?"

The other members of the gang followed suit, closing in on her in a tight circle, grabbing at her hair, clothes and body.

"No! Let me go! Leave me alone!" she screamed, as two of them grabbed her by the arms, dragged her into the nearby alley and pinned her down onto the ground. She struggled with all her might, but they were too strong. She realized with terror that they were going to rape her.

Suddenly, there was a flash of movement. The gang members were thrown away from her, flung powerfully into alley walls and out into the street by a force too quick to be seen by the human eye.

"What the hell is going on?" the lead gang member shouted, his eyes wide with fear.

The moving blur came to a stop in front of him, revealing the form of Logan Longfellow. Sophia gasped and stared in shock and wonder.

Logan faced off to the man, casually appraising him with the air of someone who had all the time in the world. His light blond hair flowed softly in the breeze and his deathly pale skin looked white as snow in the moonlight. His muscles rippled, and he reminded her of a cat preparing to kill a mouse it was toying with. His pale blue eyes looked deadly, and a smile of delight curled the corners of his lips.

"What are you?" the gang member gasped, sensing his opponent wasn't fully human.

"I'm her boyfriend, so I suggest you treat this lady with respect." Logan reached out with lightening quick speed, grasped the man by the neck and lifted him clean off the ground as if he weighed no more than a doll. "In fact, I recommend you treat all ladies with respect. No one wants to be looked at as if they were nothing but a piece of meat."

Logan toyed with the man, holding his throat close to his teeth, which had suddenly become razor-sharp fangs. Logan opened his mouth as if to take a bite of the man's throat and said ominously, "Raw meat to be devoured by sharp teeth!"

"No!" cried the man, openly sobbing now. "Don't drink my blood! Don't kill me!"

Logan opened his hand and dropped the man, as if disgusted by him. "I won't today, but next time I see you harassing a lady, I will."

He watched as all the members of gang ran off into the distance, completely terrified. Then he turned to Sophia and helped her to her feet. He held her gently in his arms. "Are you all right? I had to come after you to tell you why I behaved the way I did. I'm not ashamed to be with you. I want to have a real relationship with you, but I've been keeping a secret. Now you know what it is. I hope you can still love me, because I love you more than anything in the world. If you want me to leave you alone now that you know the truth, I will. I'm hoping, however, that you can still find a way to love me."

Sophia pulled away from his embrace and stared deeply into his face. She looked at him, with thoughtful eyes, examining his sharp fangs, ferocious eyes, and heaving muscles. He was beautiful. He didn't look like monster to her, although she understood now that he truly was a vampire. To her, he still looked like Logan, the man she had fallen in love with.

In answer to his questioning eyes, she simply wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, long and slow and deep. Logan's heart swelled as he felt all the love she felt for him in her passionate kiss and knew that he hadn't lost her.

They walked arm-in-arm back to his castle then, and he answered all her questions about being a vampire. How had he become one, where did he get blood to survive? The questions went on and on, and as the evening came to an end, there was just one last thing she needed to know.

"So, if vampires are drawn to drink the blood of virgins, will you really be able to resist drinking mine if we stay together?"

"I have so far, although I must admit it can be difficult. There are times when I've really struggled to keep my composure, but I've always succeeded. I love you too much to lose control and bite you. My love for you overcomes my lust for virgin blood."

"That hardly seems fair to you," Sophia said with compassion. "You'll always be suffering, battling your natural instincts to drink my blood whenever we're together."

Logan shrugged, trying to make light of the situation. "Being with you is worth it."

"Would it be less difficult for you if I wasn't a virgin?" she asked with a coy smile.

"Actually, it would ease my discomfort a lot. The blood of a virgin is what vampires crave the most, it's like an addiction. I would never ask you sacrifice your purity for me though."

"What if it's not a sacrifice? What if I give it freely to you, as a gift?"

Logan smiled and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Just then, the clocked chimed, reminding them both that dawn was approaching.

"Tomorrow night," Sophia promised, kissing him goodbye and heading for the door. "I'll meet you here right after the sun sets and give myself to you, not because I have to, but because I want to. Ever since we first kissed, I knew that you were the man I wanted to make love to for the first time. Tomorrow night will be that night."

Chapter Four

Sophia's heart was pounding as the sun slowly set below the horizon. She'd done miserably on her exams at school that morning, but she didn't care. Tonight was the night she would give her virginity to the man she loved.

In the end, she decided not to go to her last two classes of the day, so she could go home and prepare. She took a nice long nap, so she was refreshed and not tired. Then she took a bath, washed her hair, and got dressed in a special outfit she'd bought just for the occasion.

Her roommate Michelle showed up just as she ready to leave, looking flustered and worried.

"Here you are! I've been looking all over campus for you!" Michelle cried. Her expression of relief quickly turned into one of annoyance. "What's going on with you? You're never home at night any more, you sleep through most of your classes, and now today you didn't even show up for two of them! You used to be so motivated to get your degree in Societal History so you could work at the Institute. Now it's like you don't even care about graduating! Are you hooked on drugs or something?"

Sophia laughed gently, feeling touched by her roommate's concern. She wrapped her arm around her friend's shoulder and said reassuringly, "No, I'm not addicted to drugs. I've met someone. I always thought I'd be alone all my life; but it's finally happened to me. I'm in love!"

Instead of sharing her happiness, Michelle looked more worried than before. "Who is this guy? Is he a student here? Do I know him?"

"No, he's an older man. I'm certain you've never met him, but trust me when I tell you he's very nice. He's everything I've ever wanted in a man; tender, caring, intelligent, funny."

"If he's so great, why haven't you brought him to introduce him to me? Why are you always gone, staying out until dawn every night?"

"It's complicated," Sophia said, not knowing what to say to her friend that wouldn't expose Logan's secret. She needed to talk to him about it. She knew she could trust Michelle not to reveal anything she told her confidence, but she couldn't just tell Logan's secret to others without his permission first. Suddenly, she realized it was already dark outside, and she was late for the most important date of her life. "You'll just have to believe me when I tell you that Logan Longfellow is a really good man. I'll explain everything to you later. Right now, I'm late and I have to go."

"Wait!" Michelle said. "Isn't Longfellow the name of that creepy castle you've been researching all semester? Don't tell you've gotten into a relationship with someone who lives there! Rumors say those people are evil! Stay far away from him! I'm just telling you this for your own good!"

Sophia brushed aside her friend's impassioned plea with a light laugh. "Oh, Michelle, don't tell me you buy into those rumors too. Logan Longfellow isn't evil and nothing can stop me from meeting him."

"Well, he may not be evil, but he's definitely hiding something or I'd have met him by now. Don't go to him tonight. Tell him you're staying here until he comes over and meets your friends first. If he has nothing to hide, he won't have any objection."

Sophia shook her head. "It's more complicated than that. I can't explain right now, but I'll tell you everything tomorrow. I promise. Now I have to go, I'm late!"

Sophia ran out the door with her long coat wrapped tightly around her. She was so excited to meet with Logan; she didn't even notice Michelle following behind her as she went.

Sophia finally arrived at Logan's castle an hour after the sun had set, and he opened the door for her with a relieved expression on his face.

"I thought perhaps you had changed your mind," Logan said as he let her inside.

"No, I just wanted to make you wait a little bit for me," Sophia teased, not wanting to ruin their evening by talking about Michelle's suspicions yet.

"I've been waiting for you for hundreds of years," Logan said, kissing her passionately on the lips. "After I became a vampire, I never thought I'd be able to experience love with a woman, and now here you are, making all my dreams come true."

The heartfelt words brought tears of emotion to Sophia's eyes, for she had thought she'd never find love either. It was as if they were made for each other.

Slowly, she removed her long coat, letting it slip from her shoulders and fall to the ground. Underneath the coat, she wore nothing but a pale pink teddy, which hugged her curves just right, accentuating her full breasts and narrow waist. She had on matching pink panties made of delicate lace and white thigh-high stockings held up by garters. Pink high heels completed the outfit, which was the perfect blend of innocence and lust.

"Wow! You look delicious enough to eat!" Logan said, with his eyes wide and an obvious erection protruding within his slacks.

He advanced upon her slowly and took her into his embrace and carried her to his bed, kissing her on the lips as he did so. He laid her softly onto the mattress and gently nibbled on her earlobe, making her sigh with delight. Then he kissed a trail down her long neck, to her chest and peeled the teddy from her body. She moaned and sighed with pleasure as he lavished all his attention upon her breasts; caressing, fondling, and suckling them with pure devotion. Her nipples puckered under his expert touch, and she ran her fingers through his hair, pressing him firmly to herself.

It didn't take long before she was panting and felt that moisture growing between her legs. Sensing the time was right, Logan kissed his way down to her panties and gently pulled them off her hips. She was nervous at first, but when his lips came in contact with her most delicate folds, her fears were quickly wiped away by the exquisite pleasure.

Sophia had never felt anything so incredibly wonderful in her entire life. Waves of pleasure flooded through her body, and soon she felt the need to arch her pelvis, searching for him to enter her.

When he knew she was ready, Logan stopped pleasuring her with his lips and moved up to lie beside her, so they were face to face. He kissed her then, tenderly and deeply, making her forget any traces of nervousness in his loving embrace. When he entered her, she was so wet and ready for him that it didn't even hurt and they moved together as one. She clutched at his back and wrapped her legs around his waist as her first orgasm overtook her. It was a sensation unlike anything she'd ever experienced, and she knew that she loved him now more than ever.

Logan felt the same way. Sophia was so sweet, so delicate, and so delicious. He'd never loved a woman as much as he loved her, and he knew that he could never hurt her or let anyone one else ever cause her any harm. He would devote the rest of his life to keeping her safe and happy, no matter what it took.

He orgasmed deep inside her and then they lay together in the bed, cuddling until she fell asleep.

Chapter Five

Sophia awoke shortly before the dawn. She and Logan made love again, and then she took a quick shower and got dressed in the lovely new dress he'd purchased her as a surprise.

"If you don't like it, you can exchange it," Logan said, looking concerned.

"I absolutely love it!" Sophia said, twirling in the dress and making the skirt of the garment flair out like the petals of a flower. She twirled right into Logan, making him stumble back onto the bed, where he caught her in his arms.

"And I love you," Logan said in a gentle voice and kissed her softly on the lips. She was so sweet, he couldn't get enough of the taste of her, although now that she was no longer a virgin, the conflicting desire he felt to bite her had ebbed and he could enjoy kissing her more easily without fearing his own instincts. He looked at the clock and knew that dawn would soon be upon them. With a disappointed sigh, he helped her up and guided her to the door. "Will I see you again tonight?"

"That's up to you," Sophia said with a coy grin. "What I said the other night, still stands. If you want to have a real relationship with me, we can't keep hiding here in your castle. My friends want to meet the man I've been dating, and it will help quell the rumors about you if you get out in the world and start meeting people. Once they see how kind and wonderful you are, they'll know you're not the evil monster the old stories have taught them to fear."

Logan looked hesitant. "I don't know, my darling. The members of my family have attempted to make friends with the townspeople in the past, and it has always ended badly. Now I am the last Longfellow left. The others died horrible deaths, stabbed through the heart by wooden stakes or silver spikes."

"Don't tell me a big, strong man like yourself is afraid. I'm just talking about meeting a couple of my closest friends down at the bar for a beer. I'm not talking about hosting a lynch mob."

"I'm not afraid for myself; after all, I've survived all these centuries up until now. I am afraid for you, however," Logan said, caressing her cheek.

"Why would you be afraid for me?" Sophia pulled back, confused.

Logan hesitated, not sure how much he could tell her without scaring her. Total honesty seemed the best approach and the only way to truly protect her. With a somber expression, he said, "Human beings are easily frightened, and there's no telling how they'll react when things go wrong in their lives. Everything might seem fine now, but someday something might happen to change that, and when it does, they'll look for someone to blame and some way to lash out to protect themselves and calm their fears. History has shown that the Longfellow family makes an easy target for their fears, but not just those related by blood."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that anyone associated with my family can become a target of blame of fear as well. Spouses, girlfriends, even mere acquaintances have been put to death by ignorant and terrified townspeople looking for justice. It's why I've chosen to live alone all these years. I saw how painful it was for my family to watch the ones they loved stabbed through the heart for crimes they never committed."

"You can't think my friends would ever do a thing like that. There hasn't been any vigilante justice or mob mentalities for decades." Sophia brushed aside his fears.

"That may be true, but it doesn't take much for that to change. Trust me. I've seen too much to be naïve about this, and you shouldn't be either."

"Nonsense!" Sophia scoffed light-heartedly. "Meet me tonight at the bar down the street. I'll bring a small group of my closest friends. Just my roommate Michelle, my best friend Mark, and Michelle's boyfriend Clyde. Just three people. Once you've met them and had a beer, we'll come back here to the castle. I'll make it worth your while, if you know what I mean."

Sophia winked at him seductively as she caressed her hands over her body, and Logan felt an erection growing at just the thought of making love to her again.

"All right," Logan acquiesced.

Sophia kissed him goodbye and walked home in light of the sunrise, admiring the deep pinks and oranges of the dawn. She'd never been so happy in her entire life and she smiled contentedly, not even paying attention to where she going. That's why she didn't see the object in the road until she had tripped over it and fell hard against the sidewalk, landing on her hands and knees and scraping them painfully on the asphalt.

"What was that?" Sophia cried out. She turned around and gasped in horror to realize the object she had tripped over was a woman, lying prone in the street. "Oh my God!"

The woman had two puncture wounds that went deep into her neck, but there was no blood pouring from the wound or on the ground around her, as if all the blood had already been drained from her body. Her skin was cold and deathly white. Sophia turned the woman onto her back so she could perform CPR. To her horror, she recognized the victim's face. It was none other than her roommate Michelle!

"No!" Sophia wailed into the early morning sky. She performed chest compressions on Michelle, trying to restart her lifeless heart, but it was useless.

"Don't die, Michelle! Come on! Please don't die!" Sophia cried, and suddenly Michelle took a gasping breath of air into her lungs. Sophia pulled back and saw that her efforts had worked! Michelle's heart was beating on its own again! She was going to live! Someone had heard her shouting out for help and called an ambulance, as a small crowd gathered to watch the scene. The emergency workers arrived quickly and loaded Michelle into ambulance and drove away, but the immediate danger had passed and they told Sophia she was a hero.

"I'm not the hero, Michelle is. I was so afraid she wouldn't make it. I hope she's going to be okay. Those wounds on her neck looked horrible." Sophia shuddered.

Her best friend Mark was there, drawn by the crowd. He took Sophia into his arms, holding her close while she trembled with excitement and cried with relief.

"Michelle is tough. If anyone can pull through being stabbed in the neck like that, it's her," Mark comforted her.

"Do you think so?" Sophia asked, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose softly into a handkerchief he'd handed her. Mark nodded and Sophia couldn't help but smile. "You're right. Michelle has great inner strength. It's what I loved most about her, and found the most annoying. The last conversation I had with her was a quarrel."

"About what?" Mark asked casually, but as Sophia explained to him about her romance with Logan Longfellow and Michelle's concerns about it, his expression changed. To Sophia's surprise, Mark sided with Michelle and insisted that she stop seeing Logan.

"How can you say that?" Sophia cried out, hurt by his words. "I never thought I'd love someone like I love Logan. Michelle was overreacting out of fear and ignorance. My boyfriend is not an evil vampire! You just don't know him like I do!"

"That's my point exactly," Mark said calmly, while tears ran down Sophia's cheeks. "Why haven't we met him yet? Why do you only meet with him at night? What's he hiding in that castle of his?"

"Well, you're going to meet him tonight!" Sophia said, crossing her arms and jutting her chin. "He promised to join me at the bar by the university tonight right after sunset so he could meet all my friends. Of course, that was before I knew Michelle had been attacked."

"So, let me guess, you're going to cancel your plans and we'll meet him some other night?" Mark said suspiciously.

"No, we'll stick to the plan," Sophia said resolutely. "Be there right after sunset and you'll get to meet Logan Longfellow and see for yourself what a kind, intelligent, funny, wonderful man he is. I won't bother telling him about your ridiculous suspicions to save you from embarrassment and having to apologize to him!"

"I don't care if he knows what I think of him!" Mark said, puffing his chest. Sophia had always thought of him as her best friend, but he'd always wanted to be more. Mark had wanted to be Sophia's boyfriend; he just never had the courage to ask her out. Now Logan had beaten her to it, and she thought she was in love with him. Mark knew he just had to prove to Sophia that she was wrong about Logan, and then he could step in and be the man she loved. Especially if he could prove to her that Logan was an evil vampire and save her life, like a real hero.

A plan slowly started to form in Mark's mind. His face softened and he said gently, "I'm sorry, Sophia. I didn't mean to act like a jerk; I guess I'm just worried about Michelle. Let's go to the hospital and check on her. I can't wait to meet your boyfriend tonight."

Sophia felt at ease again. This was the Mark who had been her best friend all these years. Hand in hand, she went with him to the hospital, never guessing what troubles awaited her.

Chapter Six

Logan Longfellow sat up in is coffin with a sudden gasp. It was still daytime, but the heavy drapes were all pulled safely closed, blocking out all traces of sunlight, so he was free to roam about the house. He had sensed something he hadn't felt in a long time, something so startling it had awoken him from his slumber. A new vampire had just been formed!

He ran to his dresser and pulled out the crystal jewel that had belonged to his mother centuries before. Peering inside the jewel, he was able to see images of a beautiful young girl walking in the moonlight.

"Sophia!" he cried out, recognizing the image of his beloved. As he kept watching the image in the jewel, he saw another young woman her same age following her from a distance. Logan watched, mesmerized, as Sophia entered his castle and the other girl stayed hidden outside in the castle garden, spying on them.

He remembered that Sophia had given him her virginity that night, and his mind filled with the memories of suckling her firm breasts and sliding his rock-hard shaft deep into her tight, wet tunnel. It gave him an erection just thinking about her, and how wonderfully warm and soft her body was against his hardness.

Logan shook his head to clear his mind and forced himself to focus on the images in the jewel. Logan suddenly gasped in horror as he saw a new figure enter the scene. It was one he knew well, his cousin, Peter Longfellow. Centuries ago, Peter had come to live in the castle as a favor to his father, who was Logan's father's brother.

The cousins did not get along well, for Peter did not like to follow rules imposed on him at Longfellow castle. He would ask Logan to play games with him of hide and seek. Then, when Logan was hiding, Peter would commit horrible misdeeds and blame them on his cousin. Logan's father saw through the ruse and became even stricter on Peter, banning him from drinking anything but the blood of chickens until he could learn to behave.

"Why must we drink the blood of dumb farm animals when there is an entire town full of succulent virgins available for us to feast upon?" Peter had cajoled.

"It is forbidden to drink the blood of the townspeople. It would kill them, and if they survived, they would turn into vampires themselves. You'll get used to drinking the blood of farm animals and learn to like it," Logan had told his troublesome cousin.

"Not as much as I like drinking the blood of virgins!" Peter had said. He ran away that night, never to seen again, and many people assumed he had died. Soon after his disappearance, the little girl had been found dead near the river. Logan always wondered if she had been murdered by his dark and evil cousin, but his father had insisted it must have been a wandering stranger. Now, looking at the jewel, and witnessing Peter enter the scene, his heart filled with dread, for he knew that he was right. Peter wasn't dead; he was a murderer.

The image in the jewel showed him biting the neck of the young woman who had followed Sophia and draining her blood. He dragged her body out into the street and left it there, as he disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Then the image in the jewel changed, and Logan saw the same young woman being given CPR by Sophia, and her lungs sucked in air, and suddenly she was alive again! Only Logan knew she was no longer the same. She would now be a vampire. The metamorphosis was slowly taking place within her, and by nightfall she would be lusting human blood. The image faded away as Michelle was taken to a nearby hospital by ambulance.

I've got to get to her first! I can lead her away from the town, teach her how to drink the blood of animals, and teach her right from wrong. Then she will not cause any harm to the people or come to any harm herself.

Logan knew that if left to her own, the instincts of the new vampire would lead her to do terrible things. Even worse, if Peter found her first, he would intentionally teach her to do dark things and she would be his disciple of evil.

Logan waited impatiently the rest of the day for the sun to set, forming his plans on how to best help the girl. When the last rays of light had finally dipped below the horizon, he grabbed his long coat and headed for the door. No sooner had he opened it to leave when he saw Sophia standing there, looking beautiful, fresh, and vibrant.

"Sophia!" he gasped, suddenly remembering that he'd promised to go out with her tonight. She looked so lovely in a blue dress that matched the color of her eyes, and her auburn hair hung soft and loose over her shoulders.

Smiling sweetly, she kissed him warmly hello. "Ready to meet my friends? You won't believe what happened today! My roommate Michelle was attacked on the neck by some kind of wild animal. I actually saved her life by performing CPR! It was the most incredible feeling! So instead of going to the bar, we're all going to the hospital instead, to visit Michelle. I hope that's all right with you."

Logan's jaw dropped with surprise. He hadn't realized Sophia knew the woman she had saved in the street. This was perfect! She could take him right to her! He invited her into the castle and told her everything he had seen in the jewel. The news that one of her closest friends was now a vampire came as quite a shock to Sophia, but she was relieved to know that Logan would be there to help her with the transition and keep her friend safe.

"I can't think of anyone better to care for her," Sophia said, holding his hand and looking at him lovingly.

"Thank you, but we've got to hurry! I don't want Peter to find her first!"

"Don't worry, I will lead you right to her. Her room is on the fifth floor of the hospital. Let's go!" Sophia said and they ran out the castle together, arm in arm, completely unaware that Peter was hiding nearby and had heard everything.

_So, she's on the fifth floor._ Peter smiled to himself after Logan and Sophia were far enough away. _Let the games begin, dear cousin. Ready, set, go._

Do you like this book? Be sure to check other books in this series

Lessons at Longfellow Castle - Volume 2

The Eye of Longfellow - Volume 3

Longfellow's Legacy - Volume 4

Longfellow Series: Books 1-4 (4-Book Bundle)

***

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Lynxar Series: Books 1-6 (6-Book Bundle)

Lynxar Series - The Vampire King: Books 7-13 (7-Book Bundle)

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Hearts Aflame Collection II: 4-Book Bundle

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Lynxar (Lynxar Series, Book 1)

Lynxar's searching Heart (Lynxar Series - The Vampire King, Book 7)

The Stone Protector (Keepers of the Flame, Book 1)

