Wicked After Dark: 20 Steamy Paranormal Tales of Dragons, Vampires, Werewolves, Shifters, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More

by Mina Carter

  He didn't so much as shift in response. "Yeah."

  She became gradually aware that Ryland and Zach had stopped talking, and were both looking at her. Her heart aching, she crawled across the dirt toward Thano and reached for his ankle, wanting to see what she'd done—

  "No." Ryland caught her wrist, staying her hand just before her fingers brushed his skin. "Don't touch him."

  She looked at him, her heart shriveling at the look of accusation on his face, the awareness of what a monster she was. "I'm not going to hurt him."

  "You've done enough." He pushed her back from Thano, putting himself between her and his teammate, protecting the warrior from her.

  As he did so, her heart sank. Did he really think she had hurt him on purpose? That she would do it to him again, in cold blood? Apparently he did, and the little bit of softness that had opened in her heart for him shriveled back up. If he believed her to be that kind of person, then she could be certain that his loyalty to her would go only so far. So, did he really see her as their protector, or did his instinct tell him the truth, that she was a significant danger to all of them?

  "Tell me, Ryland," Zach said as he picked up a stone and held it in his palm. "If Catherine was the one who hurt Thano, why is it that you think she is our guardian angel? Seems to me that a member of the Order's guardian angel trinity wouldn't kick our asses like that."

  Ryland glanced at Catherine, and she stiffened at the burning faith in his pitch-black eyes. Despite all the evidence, he still believed she was some great protector of his team. "Explain it to him, angel. Help him understand."

  Angel? She realized suddenly that Ryland didn't see her as a woman. He saw her only as an angel, a beacon of beauty and wonder so true that even the broken body of his teammate couldn't dissuade him from believing in her goodness.

  God, she wanted to be that woman who Ryland was looking at, the amazing, pure angel he believed in. But she wasn't. She wasn't what he wanted her to be. But in the heat of his gaze, the protest died in her throat. She didn't want that light to stop burning for her. It felt so amazing to have someone believe in her, to look at her with such reverence. It was a lie, an error, a belief based on a misconception, but in that moment, she couldn't bring herself to correct him. Instead, she simply shrugged. "I have no answer," she said softly, leaving her response open to interpretation.

  Ryland narrowed his eyes, but Zach scowled and crushed the stone in his fist. "That means she's not our guardian," he said.

  "I don't think she is either," Thano agreed, his voice deadly serious. "I'm not even sure she's an angel."

  "I am an angel," Catherine said. "That, I can promise."

  Thano met her gaze. "Do angels do what you did to me?"

  She bit her lip. "Not all angels wear halos and float around in shining white lights," she said.

  Ryland leaned forward. "Are you a fallen angel?"

  She shook her head. "Fallen angels are those that started off good, who broke the vow they made." She shrugged. "There's no bar that I fell from. An angel of death has her own set of rules." She managed a small smile. "It's always best to stay away from us." She yawned suddenly, and a chill crept down her arms. What if she fell asleep with these men nearby? She looked directly at Ryland. "And never let us fall asleep." It was a request for aid, and when Ryland slowly nodded, she knew he understood.

  Relief rushed through her, and she suddenly felt exhausted. Ryland would make sure she didn't kill any of them. She didn't have to fight the battle herself. Wearily, she leaned forward, opening both palms toward the fire. She pulled more light in, and the fire almost died.

  Zach flicked it on again, but this time she saw Ryland and Thano watching her as well. She saw from their expressions that they had just realized what was going on between her and Zach.

  "You feed on fire?" Ryland asked.

  There was no point in lying. "I need light," she said. "Light keeps everything safe from me. Sunlight is best, but the fire helps."

  Ryland shot a look at Zach. "Keep the fire going."

  "But of course." The fire suddenly blazed in the night, spiraling several yards into the sky. The heat from it was tremendous, almost too much to bear, but she forced herself not to retreat, draining the flames of their light while the men watched. It struck her as unusual that not a single one of them had questioned her need for light, or been surprised by the fact she fed on it. As immortal warriors, perhaps they had seen so much that very little surprised them anymore. Either way, it felt good not to be looked at as if she were insane, and not to be treated as if she were a leper.

  She managed a smile at them all. "Thanks."

  Ryland nodded, Thano said nothing, and Zach pressed a kiss to the powdered remains of the stone he'd been holding in his hand. It burst into a cascade of yellow and orange flames. He tossed it at Thano.

  The warrior snatched it out of the air and closed his fist around the flames. After about three seconds, he dropped it with a curse and shook out his hand. "Shit, that hurt."

  Zach ground his jaw. "I guess you didn't get the ability to withstand all fire, then." He looked at Catherine. "What did you do to him? What powers did you give him?"

  Catherine blinked. "What powers? I didn't give him any powers."

  "No?" Thano held up his hand, and a violet ball of flame appeared on his palm. It was small at first, but as they watched, it slowly grew in size, until it was stretching almost two feet above his palm—

  "Put it out," Zach ordered, and Thano instantly obeyed. "Don't push the tests too far," Zach said. "We don't want to wind up blowing up the planet by accident."

  Three heads turned toward Catherine. "What did you do to me?" Thano asked. "Where did the purple flame come from, and what happened to my legs?"

  Catherine shook her head, guilt surging inside her. "I have no idea," she said. "No one has ever survived what I did to you." She met his gaze, forcing herself to see the damage she'd inflicted, praying that looking him in the eye might finally give her the strength to resist the pull of darkness that held her so ruthlessly and dangerously in its grip. She'd taken his soul, she'd fed upon it, and then regurgitated the remains back into his body. The wizard had forced her to do it with black magic that she couldn't withstand, but she still looked back, wondering if there had been some way to stop herself, if only she'd been stronger. "I'm so sorry. I truly am."

  But she could see from Zach and Thano's expressions that she was not forgiven. She looked over at Ryland. He was studying her with the same dark expression he always had, as if he could see into the depths of her soul. There was still reverence emanating from him for the angel he perceived her to be, but at the same time, there were shadows circling his aura, dark shadows that made her shiver. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

  He nodded. "I'm always okay." He flicked a hand at the others. "You guys get some sleep. I'll take first watch."

  Thano and Zach nodded, and within minutes they were stretched out asleep, warriors who clearly knew how to grab every second of shut-eye that they could. But as they went to sleep, their role as chaperones ended, effectively leaving her alone with Ryland, the man who was part nether-world dragon, and part tempter.

  She didn't know which was scarier.

  * * *

  Ryland studied Catherine as she fed upon the fire. The flames danced upon her cheeks, casting orange and red reflections on her skin and swathing her eyes in dark shadows. As the flames darkened, drained of life, Ryland's skin prickled. With her blond hair tangled around her shoulders, the hooded look on her face, and the eerie glow of her hands as the flames bled into them, she looked every bit the destructor. Not an angel of death. More like the grim reaper.

  The weapons in his forearms burned, warning him of the threat she posed. At the same time, however, something inside him was edged with interest and intrigue. She practically bled power and darkness, a woman who seemed to mirror all that stalked him. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his bent knees, watching her intently as s
he engaged in what almost felt like a ritual feeding. "Why do you need to feed on light?"

  Her blue eyes flickered toward him. "My soul needs to summon power from external sources in order to survive," she said. "It feeds upon the light or energy of others. When I take a soul, it nourishes me. Light also feeds me, so if I can fill my soul with light, it helps stave off the need to feed on souls. The thing is that a person's soul is the essence of their life force. It's eternal life, so it's extremely powerful. Sunlight and fire aren't really a close second, you know? I can control it pretty well when I'm awake, but when I sleep, my defenses go down." She managed a smile. "So, don't let me sleep."

  He studied her, surprised by her explanation. How was it that an angel fed upon others? It made no sense. "What happens when you feed on a soul?"

  She bit her lip, and he felt a wash of guilt from her. "It becomes a part of me," she said. "That means it dies forever, since I'm death." She opened her mouth to say more, then shut it.

  Ryland moved closer to her, compelled by this troubled angel, needing to learn more about her. For hundreds of years, he'd survived on the memory of that angel, the ethereal being that Dante had recruited to save him, though Dante had never explained his connection to the angel.

  For the centuries since, Ryland had elevated angels to a goddess status. To actually be connecting with a true angel was almost beyond his comprehension. Catherine was nothing like what an angel should be. She was burdened with death, a murderer, and deprived of her own child. It made no sense, and he pulsed with the need to unravel the mystery, to reconcile this woman before him with how angels were supposed to be. "Tell me the rest," he said. "Tell me the things you don't want me to know."

  She glanced at him, and he saw incredible agony in her eyes. Burdens so great that her soul was being eaten away by their weight.

  He leaned over her and took a lock of her hair between his fingers, needing to reassure himself that she was real, that her hair was the soft, fragile reality of a vulnerable woman. Needing to touch her for his own sanity. "Tell me, Catherine. Tell me." He moved his hand so that his thumb brushed against her jaw. The feel of her skin against his was electrifying, a shock that made them both suck in their breath.

  He'd never stroked a woman's skin before. He'd never been so still in a moment that he could actually feel the heartbeat of time as it passed by, but right now, it seemed as if the very earth itself had stopped spinning, as if the wind had stopped moving, as if every one of his senses was attuned to the woman before him. He could hear her breathe. The tempting fragrance of new spring seemed to drift from her skin. The faint pulse of a dark threat seemed to emanate from her through the very earth itself. She was beauty and light, and at the same time, she was an ominous shadow hovering in deadly readiness.

  She was pure, elemental beauty and allure, everything that seemed to awaken his very soul.

  His angel closed her eyes, her dark lashes resting on her cheeks as if she were a precious innocent. She tilted her head into his touch, as compelled by their physical connection as he was. "Why do I want to trust you so badly?" she whispered.

  "Because you know I would protect you with my life," he said, leaning into her space until his lips were so close to hers that he could feel her breath on his mouth. "You're my guardian angel, but I'm your protector." He leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers.

  She gasped and jerked backward, a rejection that seemed to knife right across his gut. "No," she said. "Don't."

  Ryland ground his jaw, swearing at himself. What was he thinking? She was an angel. A guy didn't just go around kissing angels. "Sorry." He dropped his hand and pulled back—

  "No." This time, as she protested, she reached for his hand. When her fingers wrapped around his wrist, Ryland froze in shock. Her fingers were delicate and feminine, almost fragile in comparison to the thick bones in his wrist. Electricity seemed to sizzle through him as she guided his hand back to her face and pressed it to her cheek. "I need this," she whispered. "Just give it to me for a minute."

  Her skin was the softest thing he'd ever touched in his life. Was it like silk? The petal of a new rose? The down on a wolf pup? He didn't have anything to compare it to. He wasn't a touchy guy. He fought. He bled. He killed. He protected. He didn't touch.

  But as he sat there with his hand on Catherine's cheek, his thumb trailing over the incredibly delicate lines of her jaw, his senses were inundated with everything about her. Her scent, the sound of her voice, the way she seemed to inhale his presence, the warmth of her skin, the mesmerizing shade of her eyes. Everything about her seemed to leap into vivid technicolor so intense that it was almost overwhelming. "I don't understand this." He didn't. He couldn't. The entire experience was so far outside the realm of what he'd lived.

  "I don't either." She wrapped her hand around his wrist, as if she were trapping his hand against her face, as if she were as desperate as he to seize this moment and never let it end. "I don't trust you," she whispered. "I know that you'll betray me when the time is right. I know better than to let myself trust anything about you, but your touch feels like a blessing from heaven."

  "Betray you?" He could barely voice the words he was so shocked by what she'd said. "Betray you?"

  She opened her eyes, intense azure depths only inches from his. "Of course you will," she said. "But I know that, so I can protect myself."

  "Jesus, Catherine." He slid his hand behind her and cupped her neck as sudden outrage burned through him. "There is no chance on this fucking planet that I would ever betray you." He grabbed her bound hand and pressed it to his chest. "Can't you feel the truth of my words? Lying to make people feel good is a bunch of crap and a waste of time. I have no lies. I fucking mean every word I say." Then he swore again. What the hell was he doing, talking to her like that? "Shit, Catherine, I didn't mean to swear in front of you. You're above that crap." He swore again. "Shit. I didn't mean to do it again. I mean, shit!" He shut his mouth, disgusted by how uncouth he was.

  Her fingers dug into his chest, and she smiled, a smile that melted his fucking heart. "Ryland. I'm the angel of death. I'm not fragile, naive, or innocent. I know exactly how rough you are. I can taste the death that bleeds off you. I've seen the darkest side of humanity. I have no faith left in anything. You don't need to worry about swearing in front of me."

  "Fuck that." He grimaced, swearing silently to himself. When had he become such a foul-mouthed pig? "No, Catherine, you're wrong. You're an angel, and that won't change no matter how much darkness you've endured." He slid his fingers through her hair, still awed by the softness of the strands, and how unbelievable it felt to have her lean into his touch. "I'm going to clean up my language for you, I promise. But I'm going to warn you, I don't have any practice at that kind of shi—stuff, so yeah. I am what I am."

  She laughed then, a magical sound that made his heart stutter. "How an immortal warrior steeped in death and birthed of the nether-realm can be cute, I don't know, but you just managed it."

  "Cute?" He stared at her. "You think I'm cute?" He didn't even understand that.

  "Yes, cute." Her smile faded into seriousness. "Ryland, you need to understand something. Although I'm an angel, I am not some mythical beauty with a pure and untainted soul, and you need to stop seeing me that way." She lightly clasped his chin. "See me as I truly am, Ryland. I need that."

  "I already do." He raised her hand and pressed her palm to his lips. "You're the one who doesn't see you the way you truly are."

  She stared at him, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears. "You are a beautiful man," she whispered.

  Ryland laughed softly. "Now, who's the one not seeing the truth of the person before them?"

  Catherine smiled again, and this time it was a smile of sadness and loss. "Oh, but I do see you." She tapped his chest. "You're a monster, Ryland. You're death. You're mindlessly loyal to Dante at the expense of all else. You don't have empathy for others, and you are bound by the creature you once were. I see it all."<
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  He grinned, relaxing. "Okay, you do see me. Good to know." For some reason, it was important to him that she know who he was and what he was capable of. "As we get closer to the nether-realm, my tattoo may start to fill in," he said. "We need to keep an eye on it. If it happens quickly, I might get caught up in it before I realize what's happening."

  Her face grew serious. "What do I do if that happens?"

  He thought back to the days long past, trying to remember the stages. He pulled open his shirt and looked down at the creature lying dormant on his chest. "See this band at its neck?" He pointed to what looked like a slave collar around the creature's neck. "That's the critical point. That's when they get control of me. If that starts to fill in, it's too late." He looked at her. "The only chance is death. You guys have to kill me."

  She stared at him. "What? No—"

  "Yes." He then pointed to the creature's front claws and back legs, to the thick cuffs around those appendages. "It's a five-point indenture," he said. "All five cuffs need to be triggered for them to have full control. Once two of them have filled in, I need to turn back, no matter where I am. By the third and fourth ones, they are gaining control over me. By the fifth—" He touched his own neck, needing to reassure himself that there was no collar there. "I become theirs." Darkness began to swirl through him, and tension radiated off him. "I won't become their slave again," he bit out. "I refuse." He rubbed his neck again, almost able to feel that collar around his neck, the one that had trapped him for so long. His throat became tight, his breath rasping in his throat. He coughed and scratched at his neck again—

  "It's okay, Ryland," Catherine said softly, laying her hand over his. "They don't have you. There's no collar there."

  Her touch seemed to strip the panic from him, and his hand stilled beneath hers. He didn't move, focusing all his attention onto the gentleness of her touch, stunned by how one simple gesture could take away the memories and bring him back. "How do you do it?"