"Fast like an urban fantasy, lush like a fairy tale"
Reviewed by Vicky Gilpin
Posted April 15, 2011
Romance Erotica Sensual
DARK ENCHANTMENT is a cool book; not only does it have
great characterization, new twists on old monsters, and
interesting plot development, it sneaks in some universal
themes as well, a lot to ask from a paranormal romance! Charlotte Bennett was raised to believe that all of the fae
are evil and should stay locked away in their cages, uh,
their protected reservation. However, after a steamy dream,
Charlotte is now rocketing across the country and following
orders from a voice in her head. Kieran expects her to
discover a relic hidden somewhere by a member of her
maternal line, a genetic line not as biased against the fae
as her father. Not only does Charlotte have to face her
deep-grained prejudices, let someone muck about in her
brain to discover matrilineal memories, and try to escape
assassination attempts, she also has to resist the sexy
allure of Kieran, a fae possessing a love-based curse. This book is fantastic, not only in style, but also in quality.
SUMMARY
A sultry dream can become a real-life nightmare… Tax consultant Charlotte Bennett isn’t the type to lose
control. Until she’s seduced in a dream by a handsome,
rugged man named Kieran. In her dream state, she decides
to let lose, letting pleasure and desire lead the way. But
she quickly discovers her “safe” night of passion has
dangerous repercussions. The lust-driven dream was in fact a magick illusion that’s
left Charlotte indefinitely bound to a controlling fae
named Kieran. Under his order, she must find the last
piece of a powerful relic. Only Charlotte knows the
location of the bosca fadbh, but the knowledge is hidden
deep within her bloodline—and only wicked magick can draw
it out. Forced to work with the enticing Kieran, she finds it hard
to escape their seductive chemistry. Even though he’s
harboring a deadly curse, one that puts Charlotte in
danger—and could make this attraction fatal…
ExcerptChapter OneHe made her want to be bad, and Charlotte Bennett was
never bad. She lay on her side in bed, eyes slowly coming open, the
remnants of an amazing nocturnal adventure still clinging
to her mind. In adulthood her dreams had a tendency toward
monotone colors and were about as interesting as the act
of folding towels. This dream had been real enough to make
up for a lifetime of black-and-white snorefests. She rolled onto her back, stared at the ceiling fan over
her bed, and groaned. Apparently her body was trying to
tell her something. She was still tingling in places that
hadn’t tingled in a very long time. Considering she hadn’t
had sex in nine months, the reason for the dream probably
wasn’t all that surprising. That man! She’d never met anyone like him in real life.
That was because men like the one in her dream didn’t
exist. Her subconscious had probably fashioned him from
bits and pieces of the heroes she’d read about in romance
novels, or characters she’d seen in movies. Longish dark
hair, muscular build, strong jaw, deep brown eyes, hands
that— The phone rang. She closed her eyes for a moment, cursing it inwardly.
Just a few more minutes cuddled under the covers, immersed
in her dream would have been nice. Reality was about to
steal away the clinging vestiges of the luscious, sensual
experience—and the delicious man who’d given it to her.
Ah, well. It couldn’t be helped. She rolled over, grabbed the phone, and gave a sleep-
husky “Hello.” At the same time, she groped for her
glasses and shoved them on. Pause. Charlotte sat up a little. “Hello?” “Charlotte? Is that you?” “Harvey?” She sat all the way up, clingy dreamy
deliciousness now completely eradicated. Panicked by the
only reason her boss would be calling on a Monday morning,
she glanced out the window—daylight-bright, she now
noticed—and then at the clock. Shock rippled through her. “Are you all right? It’s—” She smacked her forehead with her open palm. “It’s ten AM,
I’m not there, and I haven’t called.” “Ah . . . yes.” She threw the blankets back and bolted from the bed, her
bare feet going cold on the hardwood floor. “I don’t know
happened. I’m so sorry! I guess my alarm never went off.
You must think I’m a total incompetent.” She stared
accusingly at her alarm clock, which was set to play
Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” every morning. “That’s okay, Charlotte. This isn’t like you at all.
You’ve never even been late, not once since you started
working for us. Remarkable, really.” Harvey chuckled. “So
we knew you hadn’t suddenly gone crazy and were sleeping
off a bender or anything.” Chuckle. “Or that you’d had a
hot date and were—” Charlotte gave a forced laugh and tried not to grind her
teeth. “Right, yes, of course. That would be crazy.” “Of course it would. No, we just wanted to make sure you
were all right. So, you’re coming in?” “Absolutely.” She’d missed only two days of work in the
last five years. Flu. Hand washing was so important. “I’ll
be there within the hour.” “Great, Charlotte. You know we’re lost without you.” She smiled, warmth from the compliment suffusing her. It didn’t take her long to get dressed, throw her hair up
into a clip, and dash on a minimum of makeup. She grabbed
her purse and headed out the door. It was now almost ten
thirty. Her in-box would be growing more unmanageable by
the moment. Charlotte. She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, the low,
shivery voice blowing through her like a breeze. That had
been the voice of her dream man and it had been coming
from . . . inside her house. Blinking rapidly, as she did when she was nervous, she
scanned the kitchen to her left and the formal living room
to her right. Then she peered up the stairs to the second
floor. All was calm, silent. The house was empty. She gave her head a shake. “Crazy,” she muttered and
headed out the door. ~*~*~*~*~ Just as she’d presumed, the papers on her desk had
multiplied like rabbits. The problem with being a capable
employee was that your boss had lots of confidence in you,
and that was a double-edged sword.
She paused in the entrance of her cubicle and stared at
the pile of work for a moment, sighing. Then she firmly
reminded herself that this was why she’d obtained her MPA
from the University of Illinois, cheating herself out of a
personal life while she’d done it. It was true that her
position here at Yancy and Tate wasn’t her ultimate dream,
but it was a stepping-stone to the career she really
wanted. Everyone had to pay their dues, and she was no
exception. “Charlotte?” She jerked a little, startled, and turned to see Harvey
behind her. “Sorry.” He grinned, transforming his plain face into
something close to handsome. He studied her for a
moment. “You’re wearing glasses.” Glancing at him, she touched the frame, readjusting it on
the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t want to waste time with
my contacts today.” “Ah, well, glad to see you made it in.” She walked into her cubicle, setting her purse onto the
one free space on her desk, and sank into her chair. “Glad
to be here.” “Just stopped by to remind you that we have a client
meeting at one thirty.” Panic shot through her veins as she remembered. “Tricities
Inc?” He nodded meaningfully. She stopped herself from lunging at her desk. She’d
totally forgotten and she had so much to do! “I’ll be
ready, Harvey.” He smiled at her. “I know you will. I have complete
confidence in you.” She spent what was left of her morning cutting through the
pile of work on her desk and then, instead of taking a
lunch, prepared for the meeting with Tricities. By the time early afternoon rolled around, she felt caught
up and prepared to consult with their client. Knowing she
must also look prepared, she headed into the bathroom with
her makeup bag and examined her face in the mirror. “Ugh.” The sound echoed into the empty room. With hardly any makeup, her face looked white and gaunt.
She hadn’t had much time to fuss with her hair that
morning and was decidedly “pillow-styled.” She undid the
clip, extracted her brush, and went to work. There wasn’t
much she could do with the thick mass other than
straighten it up and put the clip back in. That
accomplished, she set her glasses aside and worked on her
makeup. Then she stood back and took a critical appraisal of her
clothing. She’d thrown on a white button-down shirt, a
plaid cardigan and a pair of black pants. Frowning, she
saw the top two buttons of her shirt were undone. She
corrected it, put her glasses back on, and gave herself a
critical head-to-toe sweep. Marginally better. She gave
her shirt one last downward tug to settle it more smoothly
in place and smiled at herself in the mirror to practice
for the meeting. Grabbing her makeup bag from the counter, she walked to
the bathroom door. Charlotte. She stopped short, her entire body going cold. The voice
of her dream man again. At work. In the bathroom. Oh, God, was she going insane? Charlotte, come to me. Images flashed through her mind. An airplane ticket,
destination Protection City, Carolina. A flash of heavy,
tall gates—the gates of Piefferburg, if she wasn’t
mistaken. She’d only ever caught glimpses on the TV
program Faemous, but she thought she recognized them.
Piefferburg was the huge warded detainment area where the
fae were kept imprisoned by the Phaendir. With the flashing images came a nearly irresistible
compulsion to leave work right now. Drive to the airport
right now. Buy a ticket to Protection City right now. All
of a sudden she had to get to Piefferburg, no matter what. Dropping her makeup bag onto the floor since it no longer
mattered—nothing except getting to Piefferburg mattered—
she went for the bathroom door. If she hurried, she could
make it to Protection City by evening. “Wait a minute!” She stopped cold with her fingers wrapped
around the door handle, and then yanked her hand away,
scrubbing it on her pants as though she could wipe the
germs off. What was she doing? She couldn’t leave; she had a
financial consultation to give. Anyway, she had no reason
to drop everything and fly to Protection City, Carolina.
Even less reason to go to Piefferburg. The fae? No way. She shuddered, remembering the nightmares she’d had of
them as a child. When she’d been six she’d woken night
after night screaming, soaked in cold sweat. Her father
had been there to reassure her that no goblins lurked
under the bed, no joint-eaters peered at her from the
cracked open closet door, but it had been close to her
mother’s death and she’d cried for her. Night after night she’d screamed and thrashed in her
father’s arms realizing anew that her mother wasn’t there
to hold her . . . and never would be again. The grief of
that still lay heavy in her chest and the nightmares had
forever linked the fae with it. No, she wanted no part of the fae. They were right where
they belonged and she had no wish to consort with them.
She was quite happy to live all the way across the country
from that place and nothing was going to force her there. Still, the compulsion lingered. She gritted her teeth and
furrowed her brow, fighting it. It eased a little, and she
sagged against the door. What was wrong with her? It had
to be the dream she’d had. It must’ve jarred something
loose in her subconscious that she hadn’t known she needed
to deal with. Find the root of the problem, address it,
and she’d be able to continue with her job. She just
needed a little time to sit down and think, analyze the
situation. Unfortunately she wasn’t going to get that, not
right now. Feeling suddenly sick, she backed away from the door and
leaned down to pick up her makeup bag. Just then Erica,
one of her colleagues, came into the bathroom. “Oh, my gosh, Charlotte, are you all right?” Erica
breathed, her blue eyes wide. “You look like you’re about
to vomit.” She glanced into the mirror. Her pale face had taken on a
distinctly greenish hue and she was covered in a light
coating of sweat. Lovely. She blinked rapidly, searching
for a response. Charlotte, you cannot ignore me. Come to me now. Compulsion filled her once again. The only thing that kept
her from bolting for the door was her willpower. She bowed
her head, closed her eyes, and grabbed the edge of the
bathroom counter to stop herself from complying with the
mystery man’s wishes. “Charlotte? Should I call someone? Are you all right?” Come now. Charlotte forced her eyes open and returned Erica’s
panicked stare. “Did you hear that?” “Hear what?” Erica’s frown deepened and she shook her
head. “You really don’t look good. You should go home,
Charlotte.” She entered one of the stalls. Go home? In the middle of the day? She’d never done that
in her entire life. She touched her forehead and found it
warm and feverish. Charlotte. Letting go of the counter and not bothering with her
makeup bag, she lunged for the door and raced all the way
back to her cubicle. Her watch showed it was exactly one
twenty. Past time to get to the conference room. Scooping
her papers into her arms, she raced across the office
toward her destination. CHARLOTTE LILLIAN BENNETT, COME TO ME. Strong compulsion filled her. She fought it, but this time
nothing stemmed the tide of must. Ten times stronger than
what she’d felt in the bathroom, there was no denying
this. Right outside the double doors of the conference
room, she dropped all her files. Leave. Yes, that’s exactly what she should do. Harvey
could meet with the clients solo. He had all their
financials and could consult with them just fine on his
own. She needed to get to Piefferburg right now. The heavy wooden doors of the conference room opened and
Harvey stuck his head out, surveying the mess of paper on
the floor and then looking up at her. “Charlotte?” Alien persuasion crashed through her. Tell him you’ve
received an urgent call from the Piefferburg Business
Council and you must leave right away. She bent down and gathered the files into her arms. “I
just got a . . . a call. I need to leave. I’m so sorry,
Harvey.” She stood and fled. Stopping only long enough to drop the files at her desk
and grab her purse, she went to her car and drove
immediately to the airport. In her head shouted the
refrain, What am I doing? Yet she was completely unable to
stop herself from handing over her credit card to the
clerk at the Transnational Airlines service desk for a
seat on the next flight to Protection City. The lady behind the counter looked up at her with a bland
smile on her face. “Do you have any luggage to check?” She glanced down at her side as if a suitcase had
magically appeared there. “No.” She had nothing with her.
No extra clothing, no toiletries. She’d even left her
vitamins behind, drat it all. This was obviously fae
magick of some kind. The prospect terrified her almost as
much as it angered her. What if she’d had a critical
prescription she’d needed to take? What if she’d had a pet
at home? Or kids! Fae magick. Fear made a cold sweat break out on her
forehead. The lady gave her the boarding pass and soon she’d passed
through security and reached her gate. She collapsed into
a chair and stared at the waiting plane, every fiber of
her being straining to get on it now so she could get to
Piefferburg now. Her father would kill her if he knew what she was doing.
Whether or not she was under some magickal fae mind-
control, her father would skin her alive. Her family had a
dark and sordid history with the fae and she’d been fed
stories about their treachery since she’d been a child.
Never consort with the fae, her father had warned her.
Stay away from Piefferburg at all costs, he’d said. Don’t
be seduced by the glittering images that Faemous feeds the
public. The fae are bad. Evil. “The only good fae is a dead fae,” had been a familiar
utterance in her home. Her opinion was far more varied than her father’s. In her
mind it wasn’t so black and white as all that. The HFF,
Humans for the Freedom of the Fae, had some very valid
points, in her opinion, though that was an opinion she
would never share with her father. Especially since her
father was the head of the HCIF, Humans for the Continued
Incarceration of the Fae, the HFF’s flip side. The HCIF
gave scads of money to the Phaendir and helped them lobby
Congress for legislation that would keep the fae right
where they were.
She glowered at the airplane. She had no idea what was
going on here, but once she found out, there was going to
be hell to pay. Of course, mostly that was the fear
talking. She knew she lacked the ability to bring hell to
a fae. The weakest one was twenty times more powerful than
she was. And this man was powerful, indeed. Her mind strayed to the dream. At the time she’d thought
it had just been a vivid dream, harmless. She’d played out
all her fantasies with that luscious man. Now it turned
out . . . Oh, hell. The realization slammed into her. That had never been an innocent dream and the man she’d
committed all those erotic acts with was probably real. He
had to be the one holding her leash at the moment, the one
who was yanking it so forcefully. Her hand strayed to the collar of her shirt. The things
she’d done in that dream . . . A man swathed in the traditional attire of the Phaendir
sat down across from her. Many of the magickal sect of
druids wore ordinary clothing, dark suits, dress pants,
and polo shirts. Usually you couldn’t tell a Phaendir from
an ordinary man, but this one wore the heavy brown robes
of a monk. Still holding the collar of her shirt, she gave him a
tentative smile, which he returned with a stern look.
Almost as if to say he knew what she’d done last night. She slid down into her chair and looked away from him. The Phaendir were always male and mostly all big and
imposing. And one could never forget the powerful magick.
Magick enough to keep all the fae of the world imprisoned.
They deserved everyone’s utmost respect and were not to be
trifled with. Except she was about to both disrespect and trifle with
them. How was she supposed to get permission to be admitted into
Piefferburg? It used to be that any human could enter at
their own risk, but now that Gideon Amberdoyal had become
archdirector, every human needed to be personally approved
by him, their backgrounds thoroughly checked. Lie. She blinked several times. “Excuse me?” The Phaendir looked at her sharply, his eyes narrowing.
The action reminded her of a hawk that had just caught
sight of a juicy mouse. Don’t say anything out loud. Speak to me in your head. Her mind whirled for a moment. She chewed her lip.
Finally, she tried it. You’re real? As real as you are. Oh, God. You’re fae? Pause. Do you know any human capable of long-range
telepathy and dream invasion? She went silent for a minute, processing everything and
trying very hard not to freak out in front of the brother. When you arrive in Protection City it will be very late.
Stop at a store and buy a suitcase, clothes, and
toiletries. Find a hotel and stay there for the night. In
the morning, go to Phaendir Headquarters and ask for entry
into Piefferburg. What will I tell them? Tell them your company is doing some work for the
Piefferburg Business Council and you’re coming in at their
request. They need help with their accounting system and a
few other issues. Tell them you’ll be there for an
extended period of time, two weeks at a minimum to
complete the project. She forced herself not to react physically to his words.
Two weeks? I can’t be gone from my job for two weeks.
Anyway, the Phaendir will check my story and discover I’m
lying. We’ve got you covered. What was that supposed to mean? What’s going on? Pause.
Are you going to hurt me? There was no reply for several moments. We have no plans
to harm you. That was not exactly a comforting answer. I hate you with all that I am. Even in her mind, her voice
shook with emotion. Silence.
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