Zyra is dating a vampire who is completely obsessed with her, but now that the newness has worn off, she realizes it’s nothing more than great sex. She wants more. She wants the true love she knows will last her throughout her immortal days and nights.
Tarquin has been living on instinct for far too long, it is his time to die, and he knows it.
Can the patience of his beautiful enemy give him the will to control himself? Can they find a way to pure ecstasy together in bed?
“I need to find my mate,” Zyra said quietly, she didn’t look the woman in the eye. She knew there would be no chance of entrancing her that way. Zyra leaped across the table, her eyes turned to a glowing red and her fangs extended from her gums a split second before they cut into the woman’s vein.
Hot blood rushed into Zyra’s mouth, sweet with life and tangy with magic. Zyra concentrated as she drew deeply from the stunned woman. When it was over, the woman would awaken from her daze, a bit dizzy, but otherwise fine. Best of all she would have no memory of the visit from the beautiful stranger. Not even her magical blood would be enough to fight the enthralling powers a vampire’s bite could induce.
After a moment, an image flashed into Zyra’s mind. An image of herself dressed in a flowing white dress, much like a toga. She was seated in a moonlit meadow, alone.
Suddenly a large dog-like creature broke through a thicket of trees. As it approached, she recognized that it was a werewolf. There was a wild and tortured look in its eyes. It was wounded, she was sure, it was in pain and it was nearly crazy with it.
Zyra stood up and the beast saw her. Its yellow eyes locked onto her. It saw her as the enemy, as prey. The creature bounded toward her and leaped into the air, jaw wide for attack. The fangs glistening in the moonlight ready to rip through her neck. Sharp claws were extended, ready to tear her flesh apart.
Zyra was unafraid as it came at her in a death leap. As she watched it unfold in slow motion, she reached out a hand as if to touch it, reassure it. The beast collapsed at her feet, just inches from contact, becoming completely docile.
Zyra knelt before the wolf and stroked its head. The red fur was surprisingly soft under her palm. The beast whined at the contact. The man, the Keeper as they were called, split from its wolf half. A trembling naked man lay before her and a large red wolf, only slightly smaller than the werewolf had been, was beside him.
The man had a huge body, muscled and golden. He was completely and utterly delectable. He had shaggy rusty red hair that matched his wolf’s fur. Zyra reached out and stroked the man’s head. He lifted it slowly, as if he were almost too weak to do even that.
Zyra looked into the face of her mate. He had dark brown eyes set in a strong square face. His jaw was wide and tough and his lips were kissable, even as he snarled at her. She pulled her hand back. He obviously didn’t want her to touch him. His wolf licked her arm lovingly and nestled closer.
Zyra’s eyes popped open and she dropped the woman’s limp body to the floor. She couldn’t believe it had worked. She’d had a blood vision, and now she knew who her mate was.
Unfortunately, it was a werewolf. A mate whose Keeper half appeared to hate her. Not really a big surprise since vampires and werewolves were natural enemies. Both were predatory and territorial, both beings of the night. A relationship of any kind between them had been rare, and a sexual relationship had never even been whispered about.
Zyra smiled a wicked smile as she wiped a drop of blood from her chin. She could only imagine the sinful possibilities.