Before we get to today’s Wicked Wednesday with Blake, one of my all time favorite characters, I’d like to say CONGRATS to the lucky winners of the Lisa Jackson Blog: RachaelfromNJ and Barbara Elness. I’ll be e-mailing you later today for your postal addresses so I can send the goodies.
I’ve also started reaching out to the lucky winners of an autographed copy of HOLIDAY WITH A VAMPIRE! I should be able to contact all the winners by the end of the week.
Now to today’s Wicked Wednesday! It’s amazing for me to think that we first met Blake in 2005 in TEMPTATION CALLS. I knew back then that he had to return as a hero and of course, eventually settle things with Meghan, the young coed who he turned. Of course, Blake’s route to hero has been circuitous, which makes him even more fascinating. And along that route, he met up with Stacia, the vampire elder who has also become one of my all time favorites because of how deliciously dark and tortured she is!
Oh my . . . Let me not spill too many beans, but you’ll see Stacia next year in ARDOR CALLS which is also doing something fun — taking THE CALLING Vampire novels to Miami!
Back to Blake — FURY CALLS will tell the tale of his efforts to woo Meghan, but for today, I’m giving you a taste of Blake and Stacia’s little interlude from DESIRE CALLS, which is still available as a free e-novella at eharlequin. Just click here for the complete novella.
Okay, so Stacia had basically dissed him. That still didn’t change the fact that she was absolutely stunning. A goddess.
Considering she was an elder, maybe that wasn’t so far from the truth; in the vampire world, the elders were like gods.
From the corner of his eye, Blake took in all of her. The black leather she wore looked as if it were painted on the womanly curves of her body. Her nearly black hair was a shock of dark against the ivory of her skin. Sleek and cropped close to her skull, her hair exposed the perfect shells of her ears, pierced with an assortment of golden earrings.
As she twirled around the rather large Goth, laughing and playing her sexual games, the golden ring at her brow winked enticingly as did the ring through her navel.
She was something to behold, he realized, although nothing like Meghan, who was like the light of the sun to Stacia’s dark night. Fun to Stacia’s fear since, despite his earlier denial, on some level he was afraid of her.
Stacia could take his life with a flick of her finger. He would be foolish not to respect her and yet…
There was something different about her tonight. Something almost…human. He tuned out the young woman next to him and kept an eye on Stacia. Not that she needed protection.
The young man with her might be a mountain of muscle but he was mortal. Blake knew that much from the lack of power that came from the Goth. He was no match for Stacia, even if she was such a little thing.
He liked his women petite, Blake realized, recalling Meghan. Stacia was of similar height, but much more womanly with all those delectable curves.
Not that he was interested, Blake thought. He had enough problems with women in his life, and without a backward glance, abandoned his dance companion.
Unlike Stacia, who seemed to have few problems finding a man, he thought as he stalked back to the bar, wondering why Stacia’s intense dance with the Goth was bothering him so.
Maybe because Stacia’s idea of a dance was…
He gulped, fighting the thrum of power she was releasing as she played with the Goth. He wasn’t the only one feeling it, he realized as a surge of awakening told him that the other vampires in the club were also experiencing it. Tapping into the spill of her elder power like chum for vampires.
Only the price to be paid for fully experiencing a kiss of that power could be lethal if the elder was so inclined.
Tonight Stacia seemed intent on satisfying other needs, Blake thought, sipping his wine as he watched her sway against the young man. Run her hands up his arms and over his exaggerated muscles.
He glanced down at his own arms. Lean and mean, he had nothing to be ashamed of, he thought, and returned his attention to the antics of Stacia and the Goth.
The young man was clearly smitten, unaware that beneath the body he was so eagerly moving his hands all over was destructive power. Strength beyond that of anyone else in the room. Lust and desire that would ensnare you in its grasp, but then drain you dry if you gave into it.
Blake sucked in a shaky breath, feeling the pull of her even across the distance of the club. Feeling himself harden and rise from the spillover of her ardor.
But he was not alone. As Stacia faced the bar, their gazes connected and he realized that she sensed his awakening passion. Passion stronger than that of the puny mortal with her.
While facing him, she raised her hand up to caress the Goth’s face.
Blake felt the sweep of her hand as if against his own cheek. So soft. Cold.
She shifted her hips back and forth, and he had to grip the edge of the bar as that movement transferred itself to him and his erection strained painfully against the tight fabric of his jeans.
All the time, Stacia kept her gaze locked with his, clearly conscious of her effect on him. Increasing her caresses and movements until he was nearly undone and she finally broke free from the Goth, done with his weak mortality.
She began to head his way, well aware that the pleasure of Blake’s body and blood would surpass that of any puny mortal.
And Lord help him, he was ready to give in to her despite knowing it would be a mistake. A major mistake.
Stacia could never love anyone.
But love was highly overrated anyway, wasn’t it? Blake thought as he rose from the stool and walked toward her.
The Goth clearly didn’t like being left behind wanting. He grabbed hold of Stacia’s arm, spun her around so he could voice his displeasure.
With the barest movement of her arm, Stacia broke free from the young man and raised her hand. The Goth dropped to his knees, his face reflecting disbelief at his seeming inability to control his own body.
Blake approached and, despite his better judgment, laid his hand over Stacia’s. Barely half a foot taller than she, it took little for him to bend down and whisper in her ear, “Let the young fool go, luv.”
Stacia shot him a look, but beneath his hand, the hum of power surging outward warmed his palm. The young man was swaying and beginning to turn blue, but Blake couldn’t tell just what Stacia was doing to him until she broadcast the vision she had in her mind.
He saw it then, compliments of Stacia’s power. She was encircling the Goth’s heart, slowly crushing the life from it. If she didn’t release her hold on him, the foolish boy would soon be dead.
“If you finish this—”
“When I finish this,” she corrected, and almost as if for the fun of it, gave the young man a shake.
“Let him go. You’ve proven your point,” he urged, and surprisingly she did as he asked.
“Thank you,” Blake said, but Stacia shook her head at his words.
“Don’t thank me, Blake. If you don’t know by now, I expect payment for that request,” she said, and was about to walk away when the Goth’s friends surrounded them.
As two of them helped their friend back to the booth, another two blocked their way. Their stances were fight ready, their looks surly.
Blake raised his hand. “You don’t want to do this,” he suggested in a low tone.
“That’s right. You don’t want to do this. At least, not here,” Foley, the owner of the bar, said as he approached the group.
The two young men looked at Foley, and one of them nodded and said, “Let’s take it outside.”
Blake was about to protest that there was no need, only Stacia and the two men were already stalking away to a back exit to the alley.
Shit, he thought, following them. He hated being a hero.