Tall, Dark, and Deadly: Seven Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance

by Laura Kaye

  The scents led him to a hemlock grove, the soaked earth churned up from an apparent struggle. Four bodies, all demons, lay in the mud, their throats torn open. One adult. Three little kids, including the one whose scent Jett recognized. He’d seen death before. Had killed before. But the sight of three small bodies in a pile made him dry heave, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

  Even if he’d rushed here the moment he’d caught the scent of blood, there would have been nothing he could do for grievous wounds such as these. Small comfort.

  The back of his neck prickled, and he stared upward. A gap in the canopy framed an archangel in flight far overhead, circling. If Raphael had come in response to the injuries, guided by his preternatural ability to instantly heal others, it was too late. Even Raphael couldn’t fix death.

  And Raphael had better stay the hell away while humans occupied the woods.

  Jett shut his eyes and inhaled. The scents of the scene around him invaded his nose—this crime had occurred after the rain had stopped and little had been washed away.

  The scent of one demon didn’t match the bodies. The scents of two humans and the missing demon led through trampled undergrowth, away from the colony toward the logging roads further up the valley.

  “Oh no you don’t, fuckers.” Jett turned in that direction and sprinted.

  …

  Lexine, running and clinging to the arm of a black-clad Guardian, stumbled to a halt in a small clearing surrounded by hemlock trees. Warm and shaky from adrenaline, her legs protested even holding her upright. The Guardian hadn’t wanted to bring her along, but she’d followed him—her brothers were out there, damn it!—and he’d been unwilling to leave her alone in the woods with humans around.

  A birth defect prevented her from seeing well in the dark like most demons, but Raphael’s stark-white wings all but glowed in a beam of moonlight now that the storm clouds had thinned.

  The archangel knelt in water-saturated, trampled peat, holding a body half off the ground. Darkness obscured the visual details, but as she approached them, the familiar scent confirmed her worse fears.

  Jac, her brother.

  Raphael is here, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. Jac would heal. He wasn’t moving because he was deep in a healing sleep. Tension fled her body in a heavy sigh.

  The archangel glanced up and shook his head. “He bled out before I got here.”

  She dropped to her knees, swallowing a strange urge to laugh out loud at Raphael’s words. “That can’t be.”

  “I’m sorry, Lex.”

  She stared, her jaw shaking.

  “I’m so sorry.” In a rare gesture from any archangel, he touched his wing to her back, his flight feathers dragging through the mud.

  Her denial shattered. Sobs tore out of her throat and she dropped her face to her brother’s dirt-and-blood-matted hair.

  Another scent pulled her back from the edge—a distinct, sweet, citrus fragrance entwined in the nauseating mess of odors. Her younger brother, Bryce, had been hiking that night as well. She didn’t smell his blood, thank goodness. “Bryce?” Clutching Jac’s shoulder, she raised her head and looked around, straining her eyes. “Bryce?”

  A Guardian stepped closer, crouched, and spoke quietly. “Scents indicate two human males took him and fled.”

  “What?”

  “Vin and his team have gone after them. We’ll get Bryce back, Lexine.”

  She struggled to her feet in the mud, sniffling, trying to isolate the scents despite her stuffed-up nose and tears. The Guardian was right, of course—Bryce’s scent mingled with the humans’. But there was also another intense, more recent scent that shot straight to her heart and jolted it into a rapid flutter.

  Jett, the demon who’d been living secluded in the woods for the last eleven months—the object of gossip and suspicion and confusion—who’d been presumed dead as a child. He’d gotten entangled with poachers, but he helped rescue Raphael.

  She knew his fragrance of tea and honey from the cemetery, where he lingered, out of sight, whenever she tended the landscaping. Creepy, but not threatening—Raphael trusted him, and that was good enough for her.

  He’d gone after the humans and wasn’t far behind them. Nothing else mattered.

  “I’ll bring you home,” the Guardian said, offering his arm.

  She shook her head. “Jac would go after them.” Her voice shook. “He’d kick my ass if I just sat at home like a blubbering fool while humans have our brother.”

  “Lex, you need—” Raphael began.

  Lexine caught Bryce’s scent and ran after it.

  Chapter Two

  “That’s no way to treat a little kid.”

  The moment Jett emerged from the woods and spoke, the two humans whirled, the captive demon child locked in the arms of the brawny, taller member of the kidnapping duo. The giant man clutched his prisoner’s throat and backed toward the car parked along the muddy, puddle-ridden logging road. His partner covered his retreat, aiming a semiautomatic handgun at Jett.

  Though the rain had stopped, water dripped from the canopy of the old-growth forest, the only sound aside from the boy’s muffled protests. The faint mix of scents on the breeze indicated that Sanctuary’s Guardians were catching up, but still had a lot of ground to cover. The humans would escape in the vehicle if Jett didn’t intervene, but he hesitated.

  Demons were a malevolent, disgusting species. Violent beings who took pleasure in others’ misery.

  Or so his captors had raised him to believe.

  In the eleven months Jett had been studying the colony from the shelter of the forest, he’d seen nothing to suggest anything he’d been taught about demons was true.

  Not one damned thing.

  This child didn’t deserve anything the humans had in mind.

  The little boy wriggled and kicked, his arms secured behind his back. A band of metal wrapped around his head and covered his mouth, preventing him from biting. Far too young to ignite demon fire on his skin, he stood no chance against the two men. Even if he could ignite demon fire, which was itself harmless to demons’ skin, he’d seriously burn himself with the molten metal.

  The kidnappers’ plain clothes and unmarked vehicle gave nothing away, but the scent that came from the SUV when the human opened the door identified the kidnappers better than a photo identification card. The interior reeked of rubbing alcohol, formalin, rubber gloves, and a myriad of other chemical odors—the stench of the despicable research facility that had been Jett’s prison for thirteen years of his childhood.

  He’d be damned if he stood by and allowed these criminals to escape with another innocent child. Jett hissed, baring his fangs.

  Had Jett been taken from the colony in the same manner as this? He’d been so young. He remembered nothing.

  The heavy-weight human shoved the boy into the SUV, locked the door, and rejoined his partner. The two men faced Jett, aiming their guns. Calm. Ready. Professionals, for certain. But had they ever faced a demon their own size?

  Growling, Jett bared his upper and lower fangs and ignited demon fire. The flames engulfed his body but left his skin and his worn, threadbare clothing intact—the fire destroyed only if he willed it. He lunged toward the humans.

  “Holy fuck!” Gunshots rang out, but the humans fired one-handed and blind as they shielded their faces from the heat of the demon fire. A bullet grazed Jett’s arm, but the other shots went wide.

  He plowed into the nearest kidnapper, seized the gun, and fired into the man’s stomach. Letting the bastard collapse to the ground, Jett sprang at the second human and shoved him hard against the side of the gray SUV.

  Jett extinguished his flames and sank his fangs deep into his opponent’s muscular shoulder, tasting sweat and blood. The scent of the other children, of their deaths, clung to the man’s clothing. He bit deeper.

  The venom from his fangs went to work in seconds, propelled through the human’s blood to his brain by his own rapidly beating heart. A
scream ripped from the kidnapper’s throat and he seized hard enough to break his own back.

  Jett stepped away, letting the limp body drop to the ground, and spat out the blood. He licked his fangs. Stimulated by the recent bite, the venom flowed hard and filled his mouth with a caramel-like sweetness.

  The other human lay on his back on the puddle-ridden ground, blood running from the corner of his mouth. Gurgling sounds accompanied his shallow, rapid breaths. Eyes narrowed, he reached into his jacket as Jett approached.

  A blade glinted in the moonlight. Jett caught the human’s wrist and sank his fangs into the bastard’s forearm. Already half in the grave, the human’s venom-induced spasms subsided in seconds. Pity had been trained out of Jett years ago, but now, he paused. Not long ago, he’d shown another person empathy, an act that changed his entire existence. He’d won his freedom and no longer saw himself only as a monster. Still, for these kidnappers who intended God knew what for the demon child, no regret rose.

  Jett searched the body and found a set of keys. Hooking the keychain around his thumb, he hurried back to the vehicle.

  The child sat on the backseat, his eyes wide between his mussed red hair and the steel gag, breathing hard through his nose. Jett froze. Even after so many years, he could feel the cold, tight metal clamped around his own head.

  Tears beaded at the corners of the boy’s eyes. Jett lifted him out of the car. The child trembled, his head heavier against Jett’s shoulder than it should have been, thanks to the metal device designed to keep a demon from biting. Holding him securely with one arm, Jett lifted a hand to the back of the boy’s head. He used the keys to unlock the gag and tossed the thing away.

  Sounds halfway between screams and sobs erupted from the child. Jett tightened his grip around the boy’s shoulders and fumbled with the lock on the handcuffs. As soon as the restraints fell to the ground, the child threw his arms around Jett’s neck.

  “It’s okay.” It’s okay? Damn it, he wasn’t kid-savvy or nurturing in the best of circumstances. He ignited a thin layer of demon fire over his body. The one fuzzy recollection he possessed of his father was that fiery, comforting embrace. “You’re okay now.”

  The boy’s breathing calmed, his faced pressed into the flames, but he maintained a choking grip on Jett’s neck.

  “You’re strong for a… How old are you, little one?”

  The child leaned back slowly, wiped at his eyes, and murmured, “I’m not little. I’m five and a half.”

  “I’ve never met a stronger five-and-a-half-year-old.”

  A ghost of a grin pulled at the corners of the boy’s mouth.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Bryce.”

  “I’m taking you home, Bryce.” Jett stood and tried to maneuver so that the kid didn’t see the two dead humans. It didn’t work. Though the shaking resumed, Bryce craned his neck over Jett’s shoulder and hissed.

  “Easy there.”

  Bryce hissed again and growled. The sound, not par-ticularly menacing coming from a young boy, lightened Jett’s mood as he headed for the woods.

  A strange whistle filled the air and pain exploded in Jett’s lower back. He sprang forward the last couple yards to the cover of the evergreen trees and, supporting Bryce with one arm, pulled a small dart free from his backside. The colorless liquid in the dart could have been anything, but the rapid numbness spreading throughout his limbs told him all he needed to know. His legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground on his side. Bryce scrambled to his feet.

  “Run, Bryce.” Jett slurred the words. Fuck, how had a human snuck up on him?

  “Guardian?” Bryce shook Jett’s shoulder, tears reap-pearing.

  I’m not a Guardian. Jett stared at the child, unable to do anything else, even blink, the drug’s grip on him complete. Run, damn it.

  A new human scent carried on the breeze: Leather. Cigarettes.

  Run!

  Bryce crouched at Jett’s side. He hissed as a figure emerged through the trees. The human, dressed in jeans, a black sweater, and a skull-tight black cap, walked forward with a dart gun slung over his shoulder. Damn weapon appeared military grade.

  Bryce turned his back on the man and hid his face in Jett’s chest. No emotion whatsoever bled into the human’s expression.

  Get away, damn you!

  The human pulled a dart from a pack at his hip, held it like a throwing dart, and let it fly. The needle landed in Bryce’s shoulder. The child jerked and his grip on Jett tightened. A few seconds later, his body went limp.

  The kidnapper gathered Bryce in his arms.

  Motherfucker! Jett writhed within his cement-like body. Despicable coward!

  The human stared at Jett for a moment with an unreadable expression, turned on his heel without a word, and strode off toward the road. A moment later, the SUV roared to life.

  …

  Lexine tore through the undergrowth of the forest. Thick, humid air made it hard to breathe as she ran. She strained to see, as blind as a human in the post-midnight darkness. She stumbled over an exposed root and landed in the muddy, rotting leaves on her knees and palms.

  Damn my defective eyes!

  With a curse, she stood and rubbed her ankle. Her pain trivial compared to her missing brother, she ignited demon fire on her hands and pressed forward in the crimson light.

  The loss of her older brother sat in her stomach like a cluster of shrapnel, but she refused to sit and grieve. She needed to act. Losing Bryce, too, wasn’t an option.

  The Guardians had long since outpaced her, their attention focused on tracking the humans who’d taken her little brother. They left only the whispers of the forest in their wake. She stopped, shut her eyes, and listened. Leaves rustled. Water dripped. A swollen stream roared after a week of thunderstorms. Faint voices drew her attention ahead and to her left.

  She scrambled in the direction of the distant shouts. Branches scraped her arms and ferns snagged her feet, but her crimson fire lit her way. Ahead, one of the many old logging roads in Sanctuary’s vicinity came into view.

  Lexine extinguished her fire to avoid being a visible target if any humans remained in the area before stepping out into the open. The moon cast silvery light over the road and the adjacent field. Strong scents of humans, Bryce, and the Guardians filled her nose along with the choking stench of engine exhaust.

  “Lex, what the hell are you doing out here?” Moonlight reflected off a pair of eyes to her left. The speaker stepped out of the trees, dark clothing and hair putting his pale skin in stark relief.

  “Vin!” She ran up to the Guardians’ leader. “Where’s Bryce?”

  He caught her by the shoulders. “He’s not here.”

  “But his scent is so strong!”

  “The humans took him in a vehicle only minutes before we got here.” The Guardian squeezed her arm in a chaste show of comfort. “I’ve sent trackers after them.”

  She held her breath and squeezed her hands into fists. Panicking wouldn’t do anyone any good.

  “Jett tried to help your brother.” Vin released her arm. “He had a good head start on us.”

  She wiped at her moist eyes with the back of her hand. “What happened?”

  “They hit him with some sort of drug. Probably the same one used when they ambushed Jac and the kids.”

  “Is Jett…?”

  “No, they didn’t kill him. Bizarre, considering he killed two of them. I admit he’s not above suspicion.”

  “You think he helped the humans?”

  “It’s possible. Jett’s loyalties are highly questionable, given his past and the fact that the humans left him alive. This way.”

  Lexine followed Vin toward the evergreens, puzzling. What little the Guardians knew of Jett’s story had long been common knowledge in the colony. Kidnapped himself as a child, he’d been raised in some sort of human research facility. Later, he’d been employed—forcefully—by the poacher who’d held the archangel Raphael captive for years. Jett ha
d revolted, freeing the archangel eleven months ago. Granted, Jett hadn’t embraced the colony or responded to Raphael’s repeated invitations to join the community, but why would he revert his loyalty to the humans?

  Beyond the lush branches of the trees, several Guardians knelt near Jett, who lay on his side on the ground in tattered jeans. His black, long-sleeved shirt and jacket set off platinum-blond hair that fell across his face in mismatched angles. He must have hacked it off with a knife. Cuffs bound his hands and ankles.

  She arched an eyebrow at Vin.

  “We can’t risk him bolting on us when the drug wears off,” Vin said.

  Lexine paused and breathed in Jett’s scent: the smoky edge of any demon, plus rich honey and dark tea. She knew it well from the cemetery, which she tended a couple days a week. He’d been visiting the burial ground more and more often, leaving his thick fragrance among the stones.

  She’d grown accustomed to his presence in the last couple of months. Though she’d never seen him.

  “Do you think he’ll wake up soon?”

  A growl drew her gaze to Jett and she stepped back.

  “He’s awake,” Vin said. “Just paralyzed. But apparently, he’s coming out of it.”

  “He can blink and move his fingers,” another Guardian added. “But mostly he just glares and growls at us.”

  “I’d be pissed at you, too.” She folded her arms. “What if he’s done nothing wrong?”

  “What if he aided in Bryce’s abduction?”

  Lexine scowled at the Guardian and knelt at Jett’s side. Bryce’s scent—light citrus and pine—clung to his shirt. “Jett. I’m Lexine.”

  He blinked and stared at her from under thick, blond lashes with eyes the darkest shade of copper she’d ever seen, like rust polished to a crimson shine.

  “The boy you tried to help today is my little brother.”

  His lips parted and closed.

  “When you can speak, will you tell me everything you can that might help us find the humans who took Bryce?”

  He blinked, the movement slow.

  “I hope that’s a yes.” She stood and rubbed her shaking hands together. She couldn’t chase away the mental image of Raphael in the woods, holding Jac. Forcing back more tears, she bit her lower lip. Keep it together, Lexi, keep it together.