Post those comments to be eligible for the first prize which will be rewarded Friday! (See description of this contest/promo drive in “15 days/15 reasons” entry)
Of course, the #1 reason why you will love this book, and HAVE to buy it now, is former Templar knight, Nicolas Montfaucon.
What can I say about a hero who tried to steal the first book (every time his silky French accent whispered in my ear, I was ready to do anything he asked!)? Who’s terribly flawed (hmmm…wicked temper and a man-whore when it comes to sex)? Who goes after my heroine with a single-mindedness that at times I want to slap her and say, can’t you see he’d do anything for you? That’s Nic. He ain’t perfect, you’ll notice that right off. And his morals are a little self-serving.
Here’s a glimpse of him, hope you enjoy! ~DD
Fresh from her shower, Chessa heard the heavy knock and glanced at her clock on the bedside stand. Still an hour before she had to be at work.
Not the super. She’d paid her rent. Besides, he’d fled with the rest of the building’s inhabitants when the Mayor ordered evacuation.
And not her partner seeing whether she wanted to get a cup of coffee before reporting to duty. Her partner wasn’t coming today.
Or ever again.
Curious, she threaded through piles of discarded clothing to her front door and peered through the peephole into a hallway lit only by grayish, pre-dusk light from the landing window. The power had gone out sometime during the night. Just one more annoyance on top of the last hellish twenty-four hours.
A familiar man stood on her threshold. Broad shoulders, long dark hair—her body clenched. “Nic?” What was he doing in the city again so soon? How the hell had he gotten in? She’d heard most of the roads around the city were closed due to flooding.
“Chessa, open the door.”
Something in his voice had her gripping the doorknob tight. Her chest tightened. She didn’t want to know what brought him here.
“Please,” he said, weariness and raw, aching need flavoring the rich timbre of his voice.
Although they’d sated their appetite for sex a few hours ago, Chessa’s body softened instantly, heat tightening her womb. She hated the way her body betrayed her.
They’d said their farewells, she reminded herself. “We had a deal, Nic. You stick to your turf—I’ll stick to mine.”
“Chessa, open the goddamn door.”
The “or else” he left unspoken in his lightly accented voice. She got the message and turned the knob, stepping aside to let him in as she wrapped her towel tightly around her body.
A quick, sweeping glance told her there was trouble. Big, fat vampire trouble. Nicolas looked a mess.
His long black-brown hair hung in damp, curling tendrils around his lean face. His exposed skin was grimy-looking, and he smelled of sewage and sour swamp water.
His hands reached for her.
Without time to sidestep, she found herself smashed against his chest, his strong hands clutching her close.
She leaned back in the circle of his arms and stared into his face. What she saw troubled her.
His jaw was clenched tight, and his face was unnaturally pale—even by a vampire’s standards. “What’s happened?”
His throat tightened, but he shook his head and lowered it.
Only she’d just had a shower, and he stunk to high heaven. Besides, she needed space to calm the riot of feelings he aroused. Ones she was still uncomfortable acknowledging even existed. She pressed her palms against his chest to halt him.
She loved Rene. Although he’d chosen to enter a mage’s sanctuary with another Born vampire, Chessa wasn’t over him yet.
Her feelings for Nicolas were strictly carnal—and she needed to get her libido back under control. Unbridled passion had been unleashed by proximity to Natalie Lambert’s coming into season, as only a transforming Born could inspire. That arousal had spilled over onto Chessa and Nicolas—it was the only explanation Chessa would allow for the strength of the desire that even now made her body yearn toward his.
Nicolas’s chest heaved, and his eyes narrowed to feral slits. “Don’t deny me. Not now.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You stink.”
“Then we’ll shower,” he said, a dangerous edge to his voice.
As always, his first terse words had her melting. “Tell me why you’re here,” she said, searching for a way to put him off while she shored up her fading resistance.
Another shake of his head, this time sharp and violent. “Later,” he ground out.
Then she noted the wildness in his eyes. Something had rattled his cage. Nicolas was never anything but completely in control. Chessa felt the last bit of solid ground crumble beneath her. “All right,” she said softly and held up a hand to ward off a kiss. “But shower first.” He’d have to let her go to follow her.
However, Nicolas wasn’t giving her the space she needed to regroup. He grabbed the top of her towel and ripped it away, then slammed his mouth on hers, backing her toward the bedroom.
Chessa’s bare feet skidded on her wood floor as she dug in her heels, but he swept her along, through her bedroom into the bathroom, all the while punishing her lips with a brutal kiss.
When the edge of the tub brought them up short, he reached behind her and yanked aside the shower curtain. “Turn it on.”
Dumbly, she reached behind her, fumbling to turn the knob, finally sending a spray of water that misted around them before he lifted her above the rim of her tub to set her inside.
Nicolas tore at his clothes, dropping them at his feet, then stepped beside her in the stall, crowding her against the cool tile walls. “Any more objections?” he asked, in his oddly rasping voice.
She shook her head, overwhelmed and mute with rising desire. Her body already strained toward his. Her breasts swelled, her nipples ruching tight and hard. Her legs trembled, and her sex released a trickle of fragrant moisture she couldn’t deny.
His hands reached around her and grasped her bottom, lifting her off her feet, crushing her breasts to his chest, her mons against the base of his rigid cock.
With his erection pressing into her belly, any objection was obliterated. She flung out her arms and gripped his shoulders, aiding him as he angled her body toward his and thrust his cock between her legs.
Chessa groaned as he slid inside her. “Bastard, we had a deal.”
His response was a flex of his hips to thrust hard inside her, tunneling deep, pressing higher until the strength of his hips and cock had her feet dangling above the porcelain bottom of the tub.
When he’d reached inside her as far as he could, he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing away her breath and laid his cheek alongside hers, his chest heaving.
She shivered from arousal so strong it nearly choked her and from fear of whatever had shaken Nicolas to his core. She’d never seen him like this. “What is it? What’s happened?”
His head drew away, and his gaze burned as it slid to her lips. “Later,” he groaned.
Again, the wildness in his gaze and the tension that gripped his broad shoulders and arms as he held her unsettled her. This wasn’t Nicolas with his sardonic quips and ever-watchful gaze. Accustomed of late to him showing up at unexpected times to tempt her, this was different.
He was frightened.
Although tempted to argue, to chide him and try to drive him away, she wound her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and pulled him close, dragging his head down to bury against her shoulder.
If she were honest with herself, she was glad he’d come.