REVIEW:  Knight of My Dreams by Delilah Devlin

REVIEW: Knight of My Dreams by Delilah Devlin

Dear Ms. Devlin:

Cover image for Knight of My DreamsAfter reading this book, I am vowing not to read another book with “Knight” in the title. Knight of My Dreams was suggested to me by a friend and I had heard that you appeared on several ebook bestseller lists. From the opening chapter, I knew I had found a book that might rival my other favorite Knight story.

Quentin Albermarle’s wife is in a coma. If she ever awakens, she will turn into a werewolf and may die because of it. The only person who might save her is an old witch who had seduced Quentin as a human and turned him into a vampire. Quentin travels to the Cayman Islands where Kamaria, the witch, lives to beg for help. Kamaria requires that Quentin have sex with her multiple times before she will attempt to save Quentin’s wife, Darcy. Who lays in a coma. I just need to emphasize this. While the wife of the purported hero of the romance novel is in a COMA, he is off shagging some witch in the Caymans.

Of course, Quentin is reluctant. He recognizes in some part of his brain that having sex with Kamaria might really hurt Darcy but this is his only option. Why this is the only option, I’m not sure. Is Kamaria the only witch in the entire paranormal world? How did all the other werewolves in this world survive the turning? Who cares, right? It’s conflict! It’s sex + conflict. It’s sexflict!

Quentin’s reluctance doesn’t stop him from having non stop erections around Kamaria. In fact, the second sentence of the book is this:

Quentin Albermarle steeled himself against the sudden thrill that quickened his heartbeat and heated his sex.

Quentin is forced to pleasure Kamaria and in doing so becomes aroused to the point of pain. Over the course of the first twenty pages or so we see Quentin in a nearly nonstop state of arousal from being near Kamaria, remembering his time with her, but agonizing over his in-a-coma wife.

Quentin wished like hell he and his cock shared the same heart. The same mind. He hated how his body betrayed him, again, in her presence. Just a whiff of her unique scent wafting in the air was enough to tug his arousal into full bloom. Like Pavlov’s stupid dog, his cock filled, poking at the sheet.

Quentin tries to retaliate against Kamaria by refusing to bring her to completion. Quentin’s punishment for failing to pleasure Kamaria completely is to get magically induced blue balls when Kamaria’s snake bites him in the sac.

Later, Quentin is in a dreamspace and having sex with Kamaria and she transforms into a winged creature with a tail. In this story, no appendage or orifice goes unused.

But he didn’t know how to manipulate this realm, couldn’t fight the beast sitting on his body, raping his ass while she used his cock to milk him of seed.

While Quentin was sporting the non stop woody, I was in a constant state of confusion about who he was actually in love with:

A part of him, the dark beast he kept leashed deep inside, howled for her. She’d given him his first bite, his first taste of blood. She’d introduced him to endless carnal delights. When he made love to any other woman, even Darcy, he recalled her tutelage to bring the fire to the surface.

As a reader, we have the choice to view the sex scenes with Kamaria (and they are numerous) as rapes because Quentin is unwilling at heart, although not in body, or we view them as advancing his relationship with the villainness while his wife is in a coma – either way, the sex scenes are a grotesquery.

Outside of the insane storyline that is completely unromantic (in fact, this is what I call #romfail), is the writing.

Kamaria is apparently snakelike so she always refers to Quentin as “husss-band”. And she talks like Yoda:

“All alone, we are,” she said, lifting her hand to trail a long finger along the crest of his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to ask me, husss-band?”

“Husband,” she enunciated slowly, closer this time. “Husss-band,” she whispered into his ear.

Her gaze swept sideways and her lips curved in a close-lipped, feline smile. “You know what I will demand, husss-band.”

“I see you are awake, husss-band.” Damn, or was she a goddamn snake?

“This is to clear your mind and waken your body. Then you may begin to please me, husss-band.”

These references all occur within the first 20 pages. It got to be so ridiculous that I started laughing with each consecutive mention. Maybe it was an intentional comic relief to serve as a palliative for the sex scenes that included phrases like this:

“Good.” He rooted with his cock, still pressing down his chest to keep hers deflated, and then curled his belly to stroke inside her.

He rooted with his cock? I don’t even know. Or what about this imagery:

He didn’t relent, even after she’d collapsed against the mattress, moaning, her head thrashing because it was too much. He’d kill her with this one. Suck the life force out of her like a giant alien leech attached to her cunt.

and

and her womb clenched, cramping hard, almost painfully, and she couldn’t do anything, just lie like a suffocating fish on the banks for a roaring river while he continued to plow her depths.

and

His cock spent, but still turgid, returned to a meaty human size, filling, but not too many calories.

I could quote this book non stop. But wait, there’s more. While a disjointed, nonsensical storyline, no consistent worldbuilding, stomach churning sex scenes, cringe inducing descriptions of coitus (alien leech attached to cunts? a cock that is measured by caloric intake?) might be enough for most authors, this one had to have all the dark skinned people all being evil.

Fierce. Fucking like animals. Once, long ago, he’d thought he found his soul mate in a dark-skinned woman. Instead he’d surrendered his soul to a demon.

and

“Quentin’s memories, huh?” Joe said softly. “Damn, I knew he gave me more than just fangs. He had a hard-on for a witch–”a dark-skinned woman”–a long time ago. I’ve been dreaming of her too.” He shot a glare at Dylan. “Don’t mention it to Lily. She’d skin me.”

Yes, how horrible that Quentin had a hard on for a dark -skinned woman.   Why is mentioning her skin color relevant or important? When I was hoping for more people of color to appear in romance novels, this wasn’t quite what I anticipated.   Do I have to put a grade on this? F.

Best regards,

Jane

This book can be purchased at Ellora’s Cave.