Gena Showalter: The Vampire's Bride

A moment later, there was a splash, then another and another. Every creature save Layel, Zane and the two nymphs entered, swimming for the dome. Even Delilah. Her head bobbed up and down with the waves.

He gritted his teeth. You must stop seeking her out.

"Should we follow them?" Zane asked.

"They'll return," he replied confidently. "There are powers at work. Strange powers, strong powers. As I said, we are clearly wanted here. There will be no escaping."

He watched as arms and legs peeked above the water, some scaled, some lined with horns, some humanlike. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty, thirty. No one gained any distance. No matter how hard they fought the ocean, they remained a few feet from the beach.

One by one, they gave up and crawled to shore, exhausted and panting. Delilah was the last to exit, which spoke volumes about her character. Strong, determined, unwilling to admit defeat.

He should not admire her for that.

She was scowling as her gaze latched on to his. She lumbered into a march, her expression darkening the closer she came. All of her war paint had washed away, revealing golden skin tattooed with intricate designs the same luscious shade as her cerulean locks, swirling around her face, upper arms, waist and thighs.

What little clothing she wore clung to her curves.

Soaked tendrils of hair were plastered to her, dripping liquid down her stomach and thighs. His gaze followed several droplets, and his blood heated as if he were baking in the sunlight again. Oh, to lick them up…

Zane tensed and stepped in front of him. "Enemy approaching."

"Let her come." If she could. Would the air shield stop her this time?

Curious, Layel kept his hands clenched at his sides. Part of him hoped she would be allowed to reach him. He had tried to ignore the sensual power she wielded, the awareness that sizzled every time he looked at her. He had tried, and he had failed. It was past time the madness ended. Susan deserved better from him. And there was only one way he could think of that would halt his new desires permanently. Death.

As he was not yet ready to die, that left one option. Killing the Amazon. He would not be upset about it, would not miss her. He didn't even know her.

"Do not touch her. Do not even approach her, no matter what she does or says."

The command surprised them both, but he did not rescind it. She belonged to him, her last breath his to deliver.

Eyes narrowed, Zane moved out of the way. He stared Delilah down as she stalked past him, still no hint of the air shield in evidence.

She tossed the man a withering glance before once again focusing all her fury on Layel. "A bodyguard," she said, brows arched. "Afraid of a little girl, vampire? I don't know why, but I expected better of you."

That she was now inches from him, practically in his face, her sea-kissed scent tormenting his nose, electrified him. He'd just decided to kill her. Could he, though? he wondered now as his gaze locked with hers. All that violet…a man could get lost. His hands still rested at his sides, the muscles lax. Do it. Strike! Not even a twitch.

"I don't care what you expected. Your opinion has no value to me." Cruel, yes, but necessary. If he couldn't hurt her physically—what's stopping you? Simply act, move—he would have to hurt her emotionally. Anything to preserve the distance between them.

Her mouth fell open, pain shimmering in her eyes. Pain she quickly masked.

Has to be this way, he reminded himself, since he clearly wasn't man enough to slay her. "Don't come near me again, woman. Don't look at me, don't even breathe in my direction."

As he spoke, she ran her tongue over her teeth. "As if I'm the only one doing the looking. But I'll tell you what, vampire. I'll stop looking at you, if you'll stop looking at me."

His jaw hardened—and he refused to admit what else hardened at the sight of that pink tongue. "Done." He forced himself into motion, attempting to sidestep her.

She stiffened and jumped back in front of him. "Stay where you are. There are a few more things we need to work out."

True to his word, he kept his eyes averted from her. "No. Now, out of my way, Amazon." A mistake, letting her get close to him. Besides being too hot, his skin was suddenly too tight for his bones and his stomach was knotted.

"You're being very rude," she said. "I've killed men for less."

"Do you want a prize?" he asked drily. Still, he managed to face the beach. Her sea-salt scent continued to tease him, strong, lovely. Hauntingly familiar.

"I'll settle for your testicles in my trophy tent."

That did not amuse him. "Perhaps later. At the moment, I need them." He headed for Brand, who sat near the water's edge, knees drawn to his chest. His back was to Layel, his braided blond hair as soaked as Delilah's. Obviously the air shields were down, not just for Delilah but for everyone, creatures now touching one another.

As if sensing him, Brand hopped to his feet and spun. His lips curved into a grin, animosity flaring as if there had been no break between battles. "I expected you sooner."

"I live to disappoint you. Ready to die?"

"Come and get me, bloodsucker."

"My plea—" Layel hit the damned invisible wall again, knocking the breath right out of his lungs.

Brand's grin became smug. "What's the matter? Change your mind? Frightened?"

Calm. Do not show emotion.

"You're the coward, dragon," Delilah said, suddenly at Layel's side. Brand's smugness became fury.

"Can you move past this point?" Layel asked without facing her, trying to quash the pleasure that came with her defense of him.

She bristled at his harsh tone. "Can you?"

"Woman."

"That is not my name." She kept her gaze on Layel; he felt the heat of it. A quick glance at her proved he was right, and that her hands remained fisted, as if she expected Brand to attack her at any moment.

"Can you move past this godsdamn point, woman?"

Silence.

He waited. Even Brand waited. Still she did not speak. Had he hurt her again? Did tears swim in her lovely lavender irises? Why did the prospect not please him as much as it should?

"My name is Delilah."

"I know."

Her shoulder brushed his arm and he hissed. "Say my name," she said, suddenly breathless, "and I'll consider finding out."

Something about her tone…pure challenge layered the wispy undercurrents, as if she wanted him to deny her. He was not sure what to make of that. "Why do you wish me to do this?"

"I want to hear my name on your tongue."

"Again, why?"

"Because." Stubborn as he'd come to realize she was, she said no more.

"Tell me why," he demanded.

"Just say it!"

"No," he said, while inside his mind he whispered Delilah, drawing out each syllable. The name was a prayer and a curse, both wonderful and evil. Unable to help himself, he looked down and studied her. So lovely, and yet so dangerous in a way she could not possibly comprehend.

A pause. A deep breath, as though she prayed for patience. "Have it your way, vampire. But if you won't say my name, at least tell me yours."

No reason to deny her. She would find out one way or another. "I am Layel."

Her eyes widened. "The vampire king?"

He nodded curtly. Was that admiration now sparkling in her eyes? Surely not. "Try and step past me. Please," he added reluctantly. It was easier to beg than to give her what she wanted.

Silent, trembling, she moved closer to Brand. Unhindered, unfettered. Irritation raced through Layel that she could do so and he could not. She did not remain there, however. She returned to Layel's side.

"Want me to kill the dragon for you while I'm here?" she asked, as casually as if they were discussing the weather.

Brand snorted, not the least bit fearful. Foolish.