Tara Fox Hall - Taken for His Own
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A dark evening to all of you. My name is Devlin Dalcon, and I’ve been a vampire for close to four hundred years.
Sounds like an admission at an addicts’ meeting, doesn’t it? You could say that I am an addict, in a sense. I am a follower of pleasure, a devotee of seduction, and an enthusiast of desire. Ruling a country and keeping the various paranormals in line doesn’t exactly meet my standards of fun. What has made the long nights of my existence bearable was warm flesh and wanton abandon, carnal sins in excess, and more than a little decadent debauchery. But please don’t rush to judge me, at least until you’ve spent a few hundred years trying to assuage the inevitable ennui of living. The antithesis of boredom is desire. Giving into mine with abandon was my only escape, a way to retain my sanity as my whole world morphed and changed around me.
Part of the vampire’s allure in fiction is immortality: that inability to age. Who that is mortal doesn’t wish for a longer lifetime, for their youth to spring eternal? But in the stories, the creature of darkness retains his zest for life and love, along with his youth. To remain vital, he must therefore be a creature of desire and wanton cravings, instead of restraint and abstinence.
But you want more than that from your ideal alpha vampire, don’t you? It’s not enough that he’ll live forever. You want him to want you forever. You want the flame of romance to always burn bright and hot as the first time you gaze into each other’s eyes, for that slight smile of danger to always thrill you, just as the first time it graced his lips. In your heart of hearts, there should never be the question Does he still love me? No one wants to think the terrible word “doubt” when a tall handsome stranger is whispering that he’ll love you forever.
My regrets, in that I must confess that a vampire’s ability to love is no different from a human’s capacity for that elusive sentiment. It is a wrong assumption that a vampire’s capability to look the same extends to all facets of his personality, including his emotions. It is fact that I will never change in my appearance. Even the length of my hair and my facial stubble returns to what it was after I partake of blood. But inside, I am not immune to the passage of time. I am not unchangeable; I can feel all the emotions that a human feels, in all of their varying degrees. And, much as I’m afraid that it will displease you, I admit I am weary of being a fantasy who cannot ever be anything less than perfect.
I know you don’t want to hear it. God knows, I do not relish saying that, me who has always loved being the quintessence of what an alpha male should be. I once loved to be the arm of justice, the savior on the white steed. For years now, despair has locked me in its tight grip, the tragedies of my long life haunting me. I will not tire you with the details here. That is another story, one that would take pages to tell. My quest is not for pity, but for understanding and acceptance. I also long for the intensity of infatuation, the adventure of new romance, the life-and-death feeling of living moment-to-moment waiting for the next encounter. I long to rediscover love, to find comfort in the arms of a woman who will not only accept my vampiric nature with all its trials, but also the sometimes fallible man I once was.
You are not alone in wanting unforgettable passion in your life. I’m right there with you. Come, sit beside me, my dear, and tell me your name. I’m not asking for anything you don’t want to give, just a friend to listen to some of life’s travails. If you’ll tell me your tale, I’ll promise to tell you mine. I think there is hope for both of us, even with all that we have gone through. What do you say? Perhaps we can discover the truth together this very night.
Please comment on this post to win Choice of print book or kindle book of Promise Me Series books 1-4
Promise Me - Book#1
Broken Promise - Book#2
Taken in the Night - Promise Me #3
Taken for His Own - Promise Me #4
AND a handmade cat bed from the author
After learning Theo is alive, Sar immediately embarks on a mission to find him. Reunited, the lovers return to New York, Danial, Terian and Theo uneasily combining forces to protect Sar from Al’s assassins who still seek her. But when Sar is taken prisoner in an all-out attack, only one man can save her—her old adversary, Devlin.
I cried a few tears, turned out the light and let my mind drift. Just as I was falling asleep, I remembered the potion. Terian had said the potion would recreate the dream with Theo, but that when it ended, the dream would fade from memory.
I needed to put my feelings for Theo to rest and let him get on with his life. It was time to be done with dreams and get back to reality.
I turned the light back on and got up, rummaging around in my duffel bag. I found it and spent a few minutes removing the vial from the bubble wrap I’d taped around it for safekeeping. I uncorked the top and drank. The taste was bitter. This was it, the end of him and me. I packed the empty potion vial for Terian for reuse, then lay down. I drifted in a sleep-sort of fog and finally begin to dream.
It was my home, my farm. Again, I stood there, calling out to Theo to wait, not to leave.
Again, he stood motionless at the door for a second and then he turned to me, riding me to the floor. Kissing me roughly, as we tore off our clothes as fast as we could.
Every memory came back in full force, sweeping me away in a storm of emotion. It washed away the years with Danial, even everything I felt for Elle and Theoron. There was only Theo and I. We were one.
Theo made love to me again and again. I relished his body next to mine, his muscles holding me, moving me, pleasuring me. Soreness set in as night fell, but I renewed my efforts, knowing that the end was near. As Theo finished and reached for me, I pushed him away.
“Sar?” he said questioningly, his eyes worried, his hand outstretched.
In a few seconds, Danial’s voice would sound. This was it, the end.
In desperation, I shouted, “Theo, I love you, I love you more than anything or anyone. I’ll love you the rest of my life!”
As my words tore out of me, Theo’s body flickered. Suddenly thin scars appeared on his shoulders from a whip, the edges raised and red, then similar scars on his chest. A mass of scar tissue bloomed whitely on his hip.
I lunged for his outstretched hand as he faded before me.
I fell out of the motel room bed, landing on the floor. The room reeked with the odor of lovemaking, the odor of sex.
“God damn it, no!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I’d fucked up badly. I’d forgotten Terian’s words to me the night he’d given me the potion, telling me about the dream it would create for me one last time.
“And he’s not here to renew it with you…”
Terian had said it, thinking as I did that Theo was dead. But Theo wasn’t dead, he was alive. I’d reached out and touched him again with another dream. Moreover, this time, he’d know immediately that what had happened was no regular dream. He’d come looking for me, remembering the scent he’d caught wind of a week ago.
God, I had to get gone as fast as I could!
I threw on some clothes and frantically gathered up my things. There was no time for a shower or food. We had to get moving!
I grabbed up my duffel and ran for the door, my keys in my hand. A footstep sounded outside my door and then the door was kicked open, flying back hard to slam the outer wall.
Theo stood there breathing hard, his eyes dark as a storm.
Tara Fox Hall’s writing credits include nonfiction, horror, suspense, action-adventure, erotica, and contemporary and historical paranormal romance. She is the author of the paranormal action-adventure Lash series and the vampire romantic suspense Promise Me series. Tara divides her free time unequally between writing novels and short stories, chainsawing firewood, caring for stray animals, sewing cat and dog beds for donation to animal shelters, and target practice.