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

by Mina Carter

  She raised her eyes to him, eyes full of empathy and sadness. "Do what?"

  "I don't know." He gestured to their intertwined hands, to the peace that she'd given him through their touch. "Whatever this is."

  "Comfort you?"

  "Is that what it is?"

  She smiled. "It's called kindness, Ryland. It's what some people in this world do for each other."

  "Well, it's good shit."

  She laughed, a merry twinkle in her eyes. "As I said, you're very cute." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly, a quick kiss that wasn't about sex and desire. It was playful and intimate, and it seemed to catapult through him like the wind on a mountaintop on a hot summer day.

  She paused and pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. "Cute men are dangerous."

  "Immortal warriors from the nether-realm are dangerous," he warned her.

  "Put them together, and a girl should run away screaming."

  Run away? Sudden tension leapt through Ryland, and he grabbed her wrist. "You're not leaving."

  Her eyebrows shot upward. "I'm tied to you. I can't go anywhere."

  "Oh, right." Swearing under his breath, Ryland released her. What the hell was wrong with him? What in the name of all that was good in this land had made him react like that at the idea of her bailing on him? Scowling, he shook his head. "I need you to find Dante," he said gruffly. "And to protect the Order."

  "I know you do." Something flickered in her eyes. Sadness? Vulnerability? Disappointment? He couldn't tell, and it was gone before he could decipher it. "And I need you to guide me to the nether-realm. We need each other right now."

  "Yeah." He shrugged his shoulders, trying to shake out the tension. "So, let's focus on that." He pointed behind her to the mountain range to the north. "It's a half-day hike in that direction."

  Catherine sucked in her breath. "We're that close?"

  He nodded. "We're just outside the borders of the nether-realm. By mid-morning, we'll be within the surface borders." And then...shit...shit was going to go down. "We'll have to move fast and try to get to the entrance before we're noticed."

  Catherine nodded. "Okay. I can move fast."

  He raised his brows. "I've been following you for three weeks. I know you can move fast."

  She smiled, and there was a hint of pride in her eyes.

  "If we follow the river, it will take us a little longer, but the water will protect us from most of the shit...I mean stuff...that guards the entrance." He had a sudden thought. "Can you shroud us the way you hid yourself from me?"

  "Only if there are spirits of the dead around."

  "We're going into the borderlands of the nether-realm. Almost everyone who ventures across those borders dies within an hour or two. There will be dead bodies the whole way in." As soon as he said the words, he regretted it. Discussing rotting flesh with an angel was not the way to treat her—

  But Catherine simply nodded, apparently unaffected by the crude topic. "Then, yes, I can hide us. It's not infallible if someone is specifically looking for us, but it will help."

  Ryland grinned at her response. He'd just announced that they were heading into a land that killed anyone who crossed over, and she'd actually looked pleased. "You're an angel," he said, not able to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

  She rolled her eyes at him in a decidedly human reaction. "I think we've established that pretty well by now, but if it makes you feel better to repeat the obvious, then yes, I'm an angel. Surprise, surprise."

  He didn't laugh. "So, how can you be like you are? How can an angel be comfortable hiking among the remains of the dead?" He was really struggling to reconcile the woman Catherine was, and the things she was making him feel and sense, with who she was supposed to be as an angel. It was so foreign to the world he'd lived in for so long. He wasn't used to a world where he didn't know all the answers, where he wasn't in control.

  She smiled then. "You, my dear man, need to modernize your opinion of angels." She leaned toward him, bracing her hands on her knees so that her jacket fell forward, showing her smooth collarbone and the deep V-neck of her shirt.

  Desire shot through him and he swore, shoving his hands in his pockets before he could grab her. "I will not treat you like an ordinary human."

  "For heaven's sake, Ryland, stop it! This isn't going to get us anywhere." Frustrated, she shoved at him, and he caught her wrists. Heat leapt through him at the skin-to-skin contact, raging lust that had no place being directed at an angel.

  He swore under his breath and tried to release her, but she moved closer, invading his space. No one ever dared encroach upon him, and the fact she was doing it should have pissed him off. But all it did was make the lust thicken in his veins. She wasn't afraid of him. Not at all. And he fucking loved it.

  "You need to understand several things about me," she said, leaning even further in, her eyes flashing with frustration as she shoved at his chest. "We're going into a war zone, and if you try to treat me like a delicate flower, we are all going to get killed. I'm an angel of death. I'm almost impossible to kill. I will do anything to save my daughter, and I've seen more horrific things than you can imagine. So, stop treating me like a porcelain doll! You need to realize that you have an asset on your hands, and see me as a woman, a warrior, not some freaking mist of white light. Got it?"

  Raw, hot fire of need arose to meet her ire. Her strength and boldness was intoxicating. He was riveted by the way she fought him, completely unafraid of all that he was. "Hell, Catherine, you better hope I don't stop seeing you as an angel. The fact you're an angel is the only thing that's keeping me from throwing you down, pinning you to the earth, and making love to you until my claim on you is burned so deeply into your soul that you can't even take a breath without feeling mine, until your heart can't beat unless it's in rhythm with mine, until your entire body screams for mine every second of every day for the rest of your life."

  Her eyes went wide, and she froze, going utterly still except for the pounding of her pulse at the base of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed, and her breath was shallow. "Dear God," she whispered, her fingers digging into his chest. "What was that little speech?"

  "That, my dear angel, was not kindness." Ryland's hands dug into the dirt, tearing the earth aside in his attempt not to follow through on his threat and grab her. "It's the raw, untamed, burning physical need of a man for a woman." He ripped his hand free of the dirt and locked his hand behind her neck, yanking her down toward him. "It's not pure," he growled against her lips. "It's not ethereal. It's not angelic. It's dirty. It's sweaty. It's the visceral, uncontrollable fire that strips a man and woman of their ability to do anything but consume each other on every level they exist."

  Her mouth opened in silent shock. "Really?"

  He yanked her closer, until his lips were against hers. Not kissing. Not caressing. Just poised there, like a great predator ready to strike. "I never lie," he growled.

  "Lying is a terrible thing," she agreed, her voice so breathy that it went right to his groin.

  "Catherine." He gripped her hair, angling her face toward his, his lips moving against hers in seductive temptation as he spoke, whispering the words against her decadently soft lips. "The only thing keeping me from making that our reality is the fact that you're an angel. Don't tell me to see you as a woman, because if you do, my restraint is gone." He bit her lip, and nearly groaned at the taste of her mouth. "Tell me you’re an angel," he commanded. "It's your only chance. Remind me that you're an angel. Now."

  Catherine swallowed. "Ryland."

  "Yeah."

  "Do you consider Catherine to be a name worthy of an angel?"

  He closed his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

  "Then call me Cat."

  Chapter Eight

  "CAT." WITH A low growl, he kissed her instantly.

  It wasn't a kiss like Catherine had ever had before. It wasn't even a kiss. It was a complete possession, an unapologetic taking, a rampant assault on all of
her senses. His lips were like the blazing heat of melted rock, burning her mouth even as his kiss drained her of all her senses. He shoved her backwards, and she fell back onto her hands as he took over the kiss. His shoulders loomed over her, massively wide, coursing with strength and muscle. His kiss was ferocious, so desperate and violent she could feel it tear at her shields and strip her bare...and she wanted more.

  She didn't even know how to kiss like he was doing. She had no clue how to unleash such emotion and fire into a kiss. But it didn't matter. Her entire soul screamed with the need for more, with a raging desire that seemed to pour through her veins like hot lava, searing her from within.

  He locked his arm around her waist and yanked her toward him, her breasts slamming into his chest. Her nipples burned as they rubbed against him. Her thighs seemed to scream with need as he dragged her legs around his waist. His hands clamped on her hips as he lurched to his feet, consuming her with kisses so deep they invaded her soul and ripped it from her grasp.

  Heat combusted between them, steaming through the air as his boots thudded across the rocks, as his mouth descended upon her throat, kissing, and biting, and teasing her skin as he carried her. "Where are we going?" she gasped, gripping his hair as his mouth found the swell of her breast.

  "I need privacy for what I'm going to do to you." He jerked her shirt aside and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking so fiercely she almost screamed.

  She writhed in his arms, her body restless and aching for more. More of what, she didn't even know. Never had she experienced the intensity of what Ryland was bringing out in her, in them. She felt out of control. Desperate. Frantic. Consumed by how badly she needed him. "It's too much," she gasped, fighting for breath, for control, for sanity.

  "I know." He went down on his knees, cradling her in his strong arms as he laid her down.

  She had not even a second to register the feel of the soft ground beneath her when he grabbed the front of her jacket and yanked it open, stripping her of her last protections against him. There was no time to get nervous, because he was on her too fast, his body heavy and hard against hers as he pinned her beneath his bulk.

  His hips were between hers, moving with tantalizing rhythm. His kisses were penetrating and intense, almost violent with need. It was too much, too rough, too dangerous, and yet it was everything she wanted. She gripped his hair, kissing him back every bit as fiercely. She nipped at his lower lip, she welcomed his invasion, and she screamed for more.

  Frantic, she moved her hands between them, wanting to feel his skin. "No more clothes," she whispered urgently. "I have to touch you."

  Ryland grabbed her hand and shoved it beneath the hem of his shirt. His stomach quivered as she flattened her palm over it, and electricity seemed to leap between them. At the same time, he jerked her shirt and bra up, exposing her breasts to the cold night air. When the chilly air hit her nipples, reality came crashing back. What was she doing? She couldn't do this. Not with him. Not here. Not now. "Ryland—"

  Her protest was swallowed by his kiss, by the desire that plunged through her as he rubbed his thumb over her nipple. Burning need soared through her, tearing her from sanity and plunging her into a world of passion, and desire, and the dark shadows of cravings so intense that nothing mattered but fulfilling them.

  He broke the kiss, his mouth moving with heated intention down her body. Over her breasts, over her nipples, down her ribs, over her belly, and then lower.

  She twisted in agonized need as he unzipped her jeans. Her hips rose to meet his assault, and then his mouth closed down on her core. The moment he touched her, something seemed to scream to life within her. More than desire, it was like a living thing streaking through her body, tearing her from her own mind and thrusting her into a world of incredible sensation. She twisted beneath his assault, gasping his name as he drew her to the climax—

  "Holy shit." Ryland released her almost violently, jerking back from her.

  Alarm leapt through Catherine and she jerked upright, yanking her shirt down. "What? What it is? What happened?" As she asked the question, she saw the look of shock in Ryland's eyes. "What?"

  "It's started." He gestured to his chest, and she saw that the tip of the creature's tail was a bright turquoise. Just one dot, one brilliant, bright dot where only blackness and his flesh used to be.

  "Oh my God." She stared at him in horror. "Why? What happened?"

  He gave her a hooded look. "You," he said softly. "I think it was you."

  * * *

  The violence was seething inside him. He could feel it coming alive, almost like a thousand demons awakening in his flesh. He hadn't felt it in hundreds of years, but in an instant, he was back in that moment as a child, when he'd first felt it. The horrific realization that something lived inside him. Something brutal and terrible. And now it was coming back to life.

  "Me?" Catherine was staring at him, her blue eyes wide with horror. "How did I do that?"

  Ryland yanked his shirt closed and shrugged his jacket back on. Then he crouched in front of her, searching her stricken face for answers that she had hidden from him. "What are you really, Catherine? Besides the angel of death. What's your relationship to the nether-realm?"

  Her cheeks paled, and she shook her head. "No, I—"

  "I need to know." His hands almost shaking with the urge to call out his weapons and defend himself from a threat he couldn't take down, he clasped the sides of her jacket and pulled it back over her shoulders, needing to hide her tempting body from him. Just the sight of her flesh made him want to finish what he'd started, but he couldn't risk it. Not until he figured out what the hell was going on. "The only thing that controls the beast within me is the nether-realm, but your kisses woke it up. Why?"

  She pressed her lips together.

  "Dammit, Catherine! Talk to me!"

  She finally looked up at him. "I don't know what it is, exactly," she said hesitantly, her face slightly averted, as if expecting him to lash out at her. "When I was a young girl, I murdered an entire community of angels in my sleep. Every last one of them, except for Alice, my best friend."

  Ryland swore. "How is that possible?"

  "When I sleep, they take me."

  "They? Who?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. Demons? Something worse? I hear whispered voices. A man and a woman. I don't know who they are."

  A man and a woman? Shit. He knew who it had to be. He fucking knew. An icy, bitter chill seemed to settle in his bones. "How do they take you?"

  She sat up, the truth coming more easily now that she'd started talking. "The light keeps me fed, but if I sleep when my soul is too hungry, I become a predator. That day that I killed everyone, when we came back in the morning, the air was thick with demon stench. Somehow, they link through me. I broke away that night with Alice's help. She has such a beautiful light that she sustained me for a long time." She laughed bitterly. "I actually thought I'd defeated them. How stupid is that?"

  "You're not stupid," he said softly. "What happened next?"

  "They took…" Her voice broke. "Then they took Lucy," she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. "It broke me, losing her, and the way it happened. I lost all defenses against the darkness, especially when Warwick had me. I was broken, Ryland. And Warwick, he pushed me so far. Too far. So terribly far. He made me do things that—" She looked at him, her face stark with agony. "I have to find her soon, Ryland. I have to."

  "We will. We'll get her." Ryland ground his jaw at the tremble in her voice. What had this woman suffered? So much. Too much. Anger rolled through him, outrage on her behalf. He understood too much about what she'd suffered, because it was so similar to what he faced every day.

  "They want me to work for them," she said. "They plan for me to kill every Order member so that the earth is no longer protected. I killed Dante. I almost killed Thano. There will be more, Ryland, and I can't stop it."

  Ryland ran his hand through his hair, swearing under his breath at the story
that was too much like his. She might not be an actual slave, but she fought the same battle he did, struggling not to become the monster that drove them both. She was trapped, just as he was. "Were you born there? Are you native to that realm?"

  "No. My mother was an angel and my father was a human." She closed her eyes. "My parents were killed when I was four. I have this vague memory of something coming during the night, coming for me. My parents protected me, and they died."

  Ryland sat down heavily beside her and draped his arms over his knees. "That was the night they got you."

  "They," she whispered. "I don't even know who 'they' are."

  "I do." He wiped his hand over his brow, surprised to find it slick with cold sweat. "You don't want to know."

  "Okay." She didn't argue, and he didn't blame her. He wouldn't want to know either, if he had a choice. "I won't ask. Not tonight."

  Ryland was quiet for a moment, digesting her news. It explained much about the dichotomy of who she was. "So, if they're reaching the earth-realm through you, they can use you to bind me." The thought made his skin crawl, and a prickle of foreboding slithered down his spine. He should walk away from her. No, he should run, stripping her of the ability to latch onto him.

  But even as he thought it, he knew he couldn't.

  She was his key to Dante. And she was the Order's third guardian angel, unable to do her job because the nether-realm held her in its grasp. She needed to be rescued so she could save them all. But he looked down at his chest, as if he could see the dot of turquoise on his flesh through his clothes. "Every minute with you will tie me closer to you, and therefore to them," he said.

  "I'm not trying to bind you."

  "No. But you are." He looked at the vine stretched between their wrists, at the noose tying him to the person sent to bring him down. What choice did he have? Dante needed him, and the Order needed Catherine. He had to manage the situation and repay his debt. "We'll just have to move fast," he said. "Get in and get out before you can bind me completely to them."