Yes! I have two posts today. Be sure to see the one just under this for contest details!

Since the theme is “Fight”, I thought it might be fun to go way back—to my second book, the first in the My Immortal Knight series where you meet Dylan and Quentin for the first time.

“A wild romp of raunchy sex, laugh-out-loud humor, and suspense…” Romance Reviews Today

“Ms. Devlin’s take on the vampire world is unique and creative.” The Romance Studio

Love bites!

Emmaline Harris meets the perfect man at a Halloween party. After he rescues her from the unwanted attentions of another partygoer, she succumbs to his kisses and spends an evening engaged in wicked-sexy lovemaking. Sure she’s just a one-night stand, she tries to exit gracefully, but soon find she needs Dylan’s special skills when her world is turned upside down by a blood-drinking killer and his gang who target her for their next meal.

Dylan O’Hara only wants a night of passion to slake his sexual needs, but finds Emmy is a full-bodied, red-blooded siren whose innocence and humor draws this Master vampire like a moth to a red-hot flame. When Emmy attracts the attention of a serial-killing vampire, Dylan vows to protect her, but he fears he’ll lose Emmy once she discovers her “Dracula” has real fangs!

“Dylan, watch your back!”

At his friend’s warning, Dylan O’Hara spun on his heels and ducked beneath a sweeping claw. He feinted to the left, and then surged upward, slamming the creature into a damp brick wall. “You will heed me!”

Arms immobilized, the beast shuddered and bared its teeth, a flash of white in the scant moonlight penetrating the narrow alley.

In its most primitive form, the creature couldn’t understand him. Dylan sighed. This might take some time.

Behind him, wood splintered and metal rang against rock. “Quentin, you’d better finish your end quickly,” he shouted, careful not to look away from the vampire. “We’ve more problems waiting at The Cavern.”

“I’d be happy to oblige, but this one won’t release its prize.” Quentin grunted in accompaniment to the thud of heavy fists pounding flesh.

Dylan’s vampire renewed its struggle.

Battling his own mind-stealing anger, Dylan barely pulled his throat away from a mouthful of jagged teeth. He slammed the creature into the wall again. “I will outlast you, bitch.”

Intelligence glittered in the creature’s dark gaze, and then her features relaxed, morphing instantly from snarling vampire to the cotton-candy sweetness of a teenaged girl. “Mr. O’Hara, I’m so sorry. You can let me go now.”

The “Mr. O’Hara” made him feel at least a couple of centuries old. Dylan glared at the dark-eyed girl whose mane of curly, brown hair framed a pale face with sweetly bowed lips. “Who made you, little girl?”

She transformed again, from sweet sixteen to seductress with a single lap of her tongue around blood red lips. “You may,” she whispered.

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Your sire. Who was your sire? And how do you know my name?”

Her lips formed a moue. “Why, Nicky made me. And every vampire knows you.”

Muffled blows continued to sound behind him, and he shouted to Quentin, “For fuck’s sake. He’s only a mosquito. Can’t you finish him on your own?”

“Inexperience doesn’t mean the bastard hasn’t got a wicked right hook,” Quentin replied.

A loud crash and dull thump followed—flesh met metal. Then silence.

“Quentin, have you finished?”

“Not quite,” Quentin said, and then groaned.

The girl peeked over Dylan’s shoulder.

He pressed a finger to her lips. “Not one word.”

Her glance darted back to his, and she nodded too quickly.

He kept his finger pressed to her lips. “And you don’t move an inch, or I’ll dust you.”

Her eyes widened. Maybe she was a virgin to the vamp lifestyle, but she knew enough to fear a Master Vampire’s threat. She nodded slowly.

Dylan turned to aid his friend, he wasn’t the least surprised to hear the scurry of footsteps heading toward the street. With a shrug, he realized he didn’t care the girl was getting away. He could always catch her later.

Quentin had the foresight to remove his shirt before entering the fray, and he rose from the ground to stand bare-chested, facing a male vamp in full-blooded frenzy.

The vamp’s face was contorted with bloodlust and his fangs formed two greedy rows, the long incisors curving over his lips. Carrying a human at his side like a bag of potatoes, he swung his free arm and connected with Quentin’s jaw.

Quentin landed next to a trash bin. When Dylan approached, he smiled crookedly. “I’ve got him softened up.”

Dylan slid a stake from the top of his boot. “I told you, Quent, we haven’t time to play.”

The beast lumbered from side to side, the girl under his arm flopping like a rag doll. Blood, spattered on his Linkin’ Park T-shirt and blue jeans, indicated she wasn’t the vamp’s first victim of the night.

To fight a vampire at the peak of his bloodlust, Dylan needed an extra push.

So he let his own lust take him by degrees, careful to balance waning human intelligence with increasing vampire strength. He thrilled to the heightened strength and awareness—bloodlust being a dangerously close cousin to his dark sensuality.

Skin on his cheeks and forehead stretched to accommodate rising plates of facial armor. Fangs slid from his gums, pushing shorter incisors behind them. Dylan curled his lips and snarled a warning at his opponent.

When the other male vamp threw back his head and roared, the rag doll at his side stirred, and she wriggled to free herself from the vampire’s grasp. The vamp dropped its gaze to the girl, and Dylan leapt to push the stake deep into its chest.

As Dylan’s face reformed and his teeth retracted, the vamp staggered, finally relinquishing its hold on the girl. With a great sigh, the creature fell to its knees. Features blurred, then reshaped.

A blond, sparse beard covered the chin and jaw of another teen. The youth’s fearful gaze met Dylan’s the instant the young man’s body disintegrated into
dust.

“Goddamn, Nicky.”

Quentin stepped past him, heading for the girl. She lay on her back, eyes closed tightly. Even from a distance, Dylan heard her heart hammering. Quentin bent over her, his mouth at her throat.

Dylan shuddered, thankful his friend had taken charge of the girl, certain he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from draining her dry. He’d been too long without fresh blood…and a neck was a tender bit of flesh.

After a long moment, Quentin raised his head, blood smearing his lips.

“Open your eyes, little girl.”

Her lids lifted slowly, expression dazed.

“You partied too much with the boy, and he got a little carried away.” His voice soothed. “You want to go home now.”

“I want to go home,” she said in monotone.

Quentin pushed a strand of her hair away from her forehead. “Did he drive you here, sweetheart?”

She blinked slowly. “I drove my car to The Cavern.”

“How very convenient,” he murmured. “Time to go home.”

“I want to go home,” she repeated.

Quentin helped her to her feet, and she walked to the end of the alley, staring straight ahead. His heavy hand landed on Dylan’s shoulder. “We’re done here, Dylan,” he said quietly. “Let’s make sure she gets to her car.”

With one last glance at the empty, crumpled T-shirt and blue jeans, Dylan rose to his feet. “How many kids do you think Nicky had to go through to make this one?”

Quentin snatched his shirt from where he’d hung it on a nail and shrugged into it. “Why would he even want one this young?”

“Younger humans are more resilient. Teenagers stand a better chance of surviving the transformation. And they’re all out tonight, it being Halloween. Easy pickings.”

“Bloody hell. We should be glad he isn’t turning babies in Spiderman outfits.”

Dylan raked his hand through his hair. “Let’s get out of here.”

They left the alley and walked toward the violet neon sign marking the entrance to The Cavern.

Just as the girl passed them in a little red Civic, soft misty rain began to fall.

Dylan raised his face and inhaled, welcoming the moisture.

“Fuck me!” Quentin said. “It’s raining again. Hurry along, now.”

“My friend, you’re too fussy. How can you not love the rain? It smells like home.”

“I hated home every damned day of my life. Why the hell do you think I was in the Caymans when I was turned? London is forever dreary.”

Dylan shook his head. They were poles apart in most things, but bound by their immortality. More than lifelong friends. “Seattle’s as close to Ireland as I’ve found in the world. The weather’s soft, and the rain makes everything…” He took a last deep breath. “…Clean.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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