Morgan D’Arcy: Vampyre Rhapsody
The greatest enemy of a vampire is boredom. Four centuries of existence have taught Lord Morgan Gabriel D’Arcy to fear nothing and no one. Humans and their weapons have little chance against his preternatural speed and arcane powers. Vampires are viral mutations of human DNA. Still, the Vampyre code requires secrecy, and he has learned to hide his nature from the world. The lure of mortality, of a life in the sun, puts Morgan again and again at the mercy of calculating human women though they fail to consider his charm and determination into the equation. However, even grooming a future bride from infancy proves to be fraught with heartbreak. And second chances are not always what they seem unless… you are Morgan. Immortality and beauty, aren’t they grand?
“…Morgan…is a tour de force of egotism, wit, sensuality, and talent…” ~Author Toni V. Sweeney
“Morgan D’Arcy is a class act and the most arresting vampire I’ve ever encountered in literature or films.” ~ Historical and Paranormal Romance Author Beth Trissel
Excerpt: Sunrise, Sunset
Art is passion.
Each of us, at some time, wishes to stand naked in passion’s temple and face deepest, darkest desire—to be an innocent victim to lust. I knew all about lust. Lust. Bloodlust. In the ecstasy of the Kiss and the rapture of the kill, the two fused.
I glided to the sofa, perching on the arm. Mischief whispered in my ear.
My friend Lucien, head of the Council that governed the Vampyre, would be livid if I endangered our secret. I might even be punished. So what? For a long time now, I’d faithfully toed the line, giving the powers that be no reason to slap my hand. No one was likely to nominate me for sainthood, and I was tired of being a good man. Envisioning an outraged Lucien crumpling the newspaper, I laughed aloud. For days, I hadn’t laughed. I was still chuckling when I dashed off a Men Seeking Women romance ad.
Vampires were no longer monsters, but fine seducers, purveyors of passion. Victims abounded. As I sampled the replies, I was disappointed and left fifty beautiful women disappointed as well, thinking me another nut not a vampire.
I failed to find the thrilling vintage I sought and forgot about the ad.
“Hello, darlin’.” Her voice was lazy, honey-sweet and sensual. “You look like you could use some company.”
I took a deep breath of the vintage I had sought. “I could.”
“You got it.” Manicured red nails dug into my shoulders. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life.”
A first-class, round-trip ticket to the Turks and Caicos Islands dropped on the keyboard. Another fell beside it. One of the tickets was issued to Morgan Gabriel D’Arcy, the other to Fiona Allman. I had to admire her style, but she couldn’t have come from the ad. Names and addresses weren’t given.
Fiona was the given.
“What you waiting for? Your bags are packed. We’re leaving on a jet plane.” The enticing voice grew darker, duskier. “To sunshine. No more of this fricking rain.”
“Fiona, I presume.”
“It’s me, darlin’, the one you’ve been waiting for.” Soft, warm lips caressed my cheek, her fingers working magic on the tense muscles in my neck.
The scents of rain-perfumed skin, Italian leather, and blood laced with single malt whiskey teased my six senses. I hadn’t fed in nights. The craving wrenched my stomach. Saliva broke beneath my tongue. Her fingers stroking my neck awoke another, totally sexual desire. I threw back my head and laughed. I was in trouble. At last!
She smoothed the hair back from my forehead. “Come on, pretty baby, get up. We don’t have much time. Heathrow’s a good hour’s drive from here.”
“I can’t go,” I said, not believing my own lie. I always did exactly as I pleased. “CD to cut.”
The throaty laugh was as sensual as her touch. “I’ve checked your schedule. No personal appearances. These poor bastards will wait until Lord D’Arcy returns. They have to. You are the show.”
“How did you find me?” I liked the way she stroked my libido. An image of taking her on the piano heated my blood. “How did you know my name? And my schedule.”
“Does it matter?” She tucked my hair behind my ear and sucked the lobe into her mouth. “I want you to shaft my brains out.” (last sentence rewritten to bring to PG-17)
“Anytime.” I was ready. Desire throbbed, hot, taut in my belly…
It didn’t matter how, only that she had found me.
Buy Link: Morgan D’Arcy: A Vampyre Rhapsody
“His blatant sexuality is always at the fore though he readily admits he doesn’t love anyone. At the same time, he’s secretly looking for that specific someone . . . to love him in spite of what he is . . . the one woman to whom he’ll give the gift of immortality so she may travel the centuries with him. Through his story runs that single thread . . . Morgan may find a woman but he always loses her, because she isn’t the right one.
Author Nightingale’s writing has a lyrical quality, darkly poetic in some aspects, but always descriptive and entertaining. She has a way with words bordering on the style of Oscar Wilde, teetering on the epigram, bon mots with a deeply sensual attitude.
Though her other novels were delights to read, Morgan D’Arcy: A Vampyre Rhapsody is the best to date, a tour de force of luscious description and elegant passages. Her own particular take on the vampire genre is an original idea embellished by descriptive prose.”