Category: Paranormals

This Wicked Wednesday is devoted to two of my most favorite characters ever — Diana Reyes and Ryder Latimer from THE CALLING vampire novels. From the moment they came to life in DARKNESS CALLS and then came back in DEATH CALLS, they imprisoned my heart.

I just finished working on the proposal for their next book, so cross your fingers that my editor will want to see that one!

For now, this Wicked Wednesday excerpt is from DEATH CALLS, my December 2006 release which helped launch the Nocturne line. This book is now out-of-print, but you can buy the e-book at various locations or the complete THE CALLING Collection from eHarlequin.

Monday was their night usually. His club was closed on Mondays which meant that barring a case that was keeping Diana occupied, they’d have the leisure of a long dinner, time for talk or even possibly a movie. Mortal things. Things that people were dating regularly did.

Like making love. A maybe not so mortal thing with them.

Ryder grew hard as he recalled their last little bout of sex earlier in the week. His body heated and his fangs elongated at the memory of Diana moving beneath him. Of her plea for his possession. Her blood had been sweet, spicing his fangs and mouth as she cried out her completion. As she’d grown limp beneath him, he’d become nearly feral with feeding from her body in so many ways. The warmth of her surrounding him as he’d driven into her. And of course, her blood.

Her blood . . .

He growled and shook his head to chase away the demon. The animal that had almost not let up the other night. He’d come close to draining her. Had nearly made her like him.

Was that why she’d called tonight to tell him she didn’t want to see him?

She’d been that blunt. No, “I’m working late.” No other excuses. Diana wasn’t the kind of woman who made excuses.

And he wasn’t the kind of man to . . .

But he wasn’t a man anymore, he reminded himself as he perused the streets and nearby buildings from the balcony of his apartment. Across the East River, the large red Pepsi and Silvercup Studio signs glowed along with the erratic string of lights from the bridge and Roosevelt Island tramway. In the water there were a few scattered boats, but not many.

It was late, although in the city that never slept, there was always activity.

Ryder wondered where Diana was in all that activity? Holed up in her office working on a case? Asleep in her apartment? Or somewhere else?

The last possibility bothered him more than he cared to admit. He’d never considered himself a jealous man. But then again, he’d never met a woman as complex and independent and as dark as Diana. And because she called to him like nothing else in his undead life, he couldn’t just stand there. Wondering.

With a small jump, he was up and over the ledge of his balcony and down to the one on the floor below, where Sebastian and Melissa now lived. He caught but a glimpse of his keeper, her belly large with child, as she walked past the entry to the landing.

Without her noticing, he watched as she rubbed her hand across her extended abdomen. Was almost mesmerized at the beatific smile that crossed her face. A moment later, Sebastian walked into the room, a similar grin on his features as he approached his wife and laid his hand over hers.

Ryder couldn’t watch anymore. It was too painful a reminder of the life that had been taken from him so long ago. Of the kind of life he’d be stealing from Diana if he sired her.

He leaped down to the next floor and then the next until he was finally at ground level. Once there he hesitated, uncertain of where he would go. Unsure that it was wise to give into the beast.

For so long he’d battled that side of him. Controlled the vampire and striven for a human type of life. A regular life like the one taken from him during the Civil War.

A regular life that he’d thought impossible until Diana had stepped into his existence.

Even after nearly two years, he didn’t really quite understand how it had happened. How he’d come to love her. How his controlled life had become filled not only with her, but with an assortment of other people and vampires that suddenly demanded he acknowledge not only them, but what he was. What he could do.

Worse, he hadn’t expected to like it. To enjoy the power and passion and strength that releasing the vampire would bring. For so long, he’d kept the beast at bay, afraid of what it could do. He’d seen the aftermath of vampire violence against the soldiers he’d been trying to save. Against himself.

A physician before the strange turn of events that had made him a vampire, he’d devoted his life to healing. Saving others. He hated that the demon within was the total antithesis of what he’d been — a good man.

But lately, he’d discovered that he could use his vampire powers for good. To help others if he could control the more violent aspects of that nature.

Tonight, the demon within called for him to let it loose and reluctantly, he did. With a quick look to make sure no one was watching, he transformed. Long fangs erupted from his mouth and through his veins, blood surged, bringing the heat from his change. All around him, colors and noises became more vibrant. Sounds sharper. More alive.

He rushed forward, speed beyond that of a mortal driving him onward. Where, he didn’t quite know. He just reveled in the freedom of the night. The piercing glow of the moon and stars above lit his way. The chill of the night air flew against his heated skin. As he brushed past one human on a side street, their scent filled his nostrils. He heard the thunder of heartbeat and blood. Sweet, sweet blood.

He wanted a taste, but the mortal rose up, urged his vampire away and to a nearby rooftop where he paused for only a moment before he continued onward. Jumping and vaulting from one edifice to the next until he suddenly found himself near the club he owned, The Lair, and then after, reached Tribeca. An alley right before the Blood Bank.

Hunger suddenly gnawed at his stomach. Ryder stopped, stared down at the entrance to the club. He wasn’t one to normally frequent the place. He didn’t much care for Foley, the owner, or for the other vampires who so blithely indulged their baser animal instincts there. Without a care. Without a conscience.

And yet here he was, the pit of his stomach clenching with the thought of fresh blood. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath to quell the demon’s urges and smelled her.

Diana.

She had either been nearby recently or was still close. Inhaling sharply once more, he picked up her scent coming from below and threw himself over the ledge of the building.

He landed on his feet as quietly and gracefully as a cat. Her smell was stronger at ground level. Ryder followed it to the door of the club, flashed some fang to get past the bouncer and hurried within, eager even if all that he would get would be a glimpse. She’d made her feelings known after all and one night away from her . . .

Was like an eternity, he acknowledged, wishing that it wasn’t so.

In the stifling lifeless air in the club, Diana’s smell was stronger and he followed it to the bar, but stopped short as he saw her there. Sitting with Foley. Letting Foley lean toward her. Touch her.

He balled his fists and barely controlled his desire to go over and rip Foley’s finger off his hand.

He smiled as Diana did some damage of her own, but Foley, sick animal that he was, kind of liked it. And so do you, his inner voice rebuked.

Anger barely subdued, he stepped back into the shadows and tried to listen to what was going on, but the noise and music in the club was too loud. Even with his supersensitive hearing.

Minutes that seemed interminably long passed before Diana rose and left the other vampire. As she walked past, barely yards away, he let the animal savor her scent. Almost as if sensing he was near, she stopped and looked around. But then after, she immediately left.

Ryder hesitated for a moment, debating whether to go beat Foley into monster mash. First because he’d touched Diana. Second because he’d just never liked the vamp. Foley was everything Ryder hated and had never wanted to be. A hedonistic animal, devoid of any mortal sensibilities.

And for some reason, Diana had ditched him that night for the undead cad.

His human side urged him to curb his resentment. After all, she’d left the bar alone and rebuffed the sole advance that he’d seen Foley make. But the demon . . .

The demon damn well wanted an answer and some satisfaction. Satisfaction that just words wouldn’t provide.

Today’s Wicked Wednesday is a snippet from the free e-novella, DESIRE CALLS. You can read the entire story by visiting eharlequin.com and you can click here to access the free e-novella.

DESIRE CALLS is also included in the e-book bundle of the complete THE CALLING Collection. You can click here for more information on that e-book.

So here’s the excerpt from DESIRE CALLS which is one of my favorite stories in THE CALLING. You’ll be able to read more about Blake and Stacia next year in FURY CALLS and ARDOR CALLS!

Chapter Three

With a rather bored sigh, Stacia placed the glass filled with blood from a nouveau yuppie fresh from Chelsea on the gouged counter before her. She had been hoping to run into some familiar faces, but other than Foley, the owner of the bar, the night had been quiet, until…

She swiveled on her stool as she sensed a familiar vamp energy and took note of him as he approached.

Blake. In his best Billy Idol getup. His chain-studded jeans tight against lean hips, black leather jacket strained against his broad shoulders. Playfully spiked blond hair revealed a face with marvelous bone structure.

As he realized he had her attention, the swagger in his step increased. A broad smile spread across his face and swept up into his deep blue eyes.

Stacia found herself smiling back, even if it was just Blake.

When he stood before her, he placed his hands on his hips, drawing aside the jacket to reveal a black T-shirt that clung lovingly to his muscles. “Blimey, luv. It’s been too long since you’ve visited.”

“Been missing me? That’s a surprise,” she said, and with a wave of her hand, signaled for the bartender to bring Blake a drink.

“Why would that be a surprise, luv?” He slipped onto the open stool beside her. When the bartender placed a glass of blood before him, he raised it and offered a toast. “To old— We’re definitely old, but are we friends?”

Stacia laughed harshly and picked up her glass but didn’t return the toast. Eyeing him over the rim, she said, “A gentleman wouldn’t mention a lady’s age, and as for being friends… Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Blake, ever confident and even more playful, leaned toward her and whispered close to her lips, “Should I be?”

Raising her hand, she inclined her head toward the direction of the vampire bartender and made a fist as if she was squeezing something. The bartender suddenly dropped the glass he held and grabbed at his throat, fighting for air.

“Should you be afraid?” she asked, almost hoping that Blake would prove her right and make a fast exit as so many of the vamps at the Blood Bank had done upon her arrival.

“A man’s got to face his fears,” Blake said calmly and sipped his blood, barely glancing in the direction of the barkeep whose sallow vampire skin was starting to turn slightly blue.

With a flick of her hand, Stacia released her hold on the vampire and examined Blake, sensing something different about him. Something a bit more…intriguing. He had changed since the last time she had seen him. “So you don’t fear me…”

“Should I?” he asked again. “Do you have some nefarious plan for me, luv?” His voice was laced with humor and not a whit of the anxiety she usually inspired in other lesser vampires. When he gestured in the direction of the back rooms, she chuckled.

“Get real. Me and you? Do I look like I’m slumming?”

With a careless shrug, Blake slid off the stool and with a nod said, “Well, then it’s goodbye, I guess. ”

Stacia controlled her surprise at his seeming nonchalance and watched him walk away, his swagger drawing the attention of quite a few women. Stupid human females who didn’t realize that to Blake, they were just a possible snack.

When he actually sidled up to one, bent that peroxided head and said something to the young woman that had her laughing, annoyance flared through Stacia. She didn’t know why. At best, she and Blake were longtime acquaintances, not friends. Elders had few friends, not even other elders.

There were usually too many power plays going on to permit true friendship to develop.

Blake’s attitude was therefore…refreshing.

As he and the young woman headed onto the dance floor and plastered their bodies against each other, Stacia decided it was time she had some fun, as well, instead of just sitting there, moping.

Moping was so pitiful.

Scoping out the crowd in the bar, she noticed one young man seated at a booth along the far wall. Big and powerful. The black T shirt he wore clung to the thick, large muscles of his arms as they rested on the edge of the booth. Artificially black hair punched up the paleness of his face which had obviously been enhanced with makeup, as had his thick, dark eyelashes.

Like her, he had an earring through his brow, although his was silver. His ears also sported a variety of piercings and when he smiled, the wink of silver in his tongue promised her more pleasure.

A vamp wannabe? she wondered. Or just out for a night of play?

Finishing her blood, Stacia rose from her stool and walked toward the booth, but didn’t immediately engage the young man. While the direct approach generally worked best, sometimes the hunt and chase were much more stimulating.

With the slightest glance his way—although enough to let him know he had been noticed—she sauntered past him to the dance floor, making sure to stay in his line of sight.

Once there, she released herself to the music, shifting to the hard beats. They were almost violent in their volume, the strength of the sound driving against her body until it was as if the throb of the bass had melded with her heartbeat.

She moved her hips, gyrating in rhythm to the pulse. Raised her hands, which lifted the hem of her black leather vest to expose the pale expanse of her flat midriff and the woven ring of gold through her navel.

Warmth came against her skin as a hand snaked around her waist and dragged her to a rock-hard body.

Looking up over her shoulder, she smiled as she saw the young Goth man behind her. Felt the strength and size of his physique against her petite frame.

As she moved her backside, pressing into him, she realized she had made a good choice. He was just what she needed to welcome her to New York City.