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

by Mina Carter

  “Here we are,” I announce as I put the car in park and point to our destination.

  Her eyes open and she takes in the yellowed bricks and bright green shutters on either side of the doors. “You brought me to a rundown bar?” A hint of her spirit seasons her question.

  I don’t answer her until I get out of the car and come around to open her door. “No, my dear,” slides off my tongue, and I take great pleasure in seeing her shiver at my sensual tone. I take both her hands and pull her from the car. “I brought you to one of the best jazz clubs in New Orleans.”

  She cocks an eyebrow and glances over at the sign, which hangs at a slight angle over one of the doors. “Fritzel’s?”

  “You’re going to love it,” I whisper in her ear while wrapping my arms around her waist, pulling her back against my front. “It’s perfect. You can sit and relax and enjoy the music. Can’t you hear it?”

  Her arms fix themselves over mine as she melts into my chest. “I must admit, it does sound good. Alright, let’s go inside.”

  She moves to drop her arms and walk towards the bar, but I hold onto her instead, taking awkward steps to the outside of her feet, keeping her body pressed against mine. She giggles and goes along with it.

  We make our way inside, getting looks from the patrons, some endearing, some sickened, but I don’t care. Charlotte makes me feel human, as if I have the whole world and my whole life in front of me, and I can do anything with it. Including, loving the girl in my arms for the rest of her life.

  A five-piece band is on the stage, filling the small bar with the upbeat sounds of pure jazz. The trumpeter blows a staccato beat while the piano man’s fingers fly over the keys of his upright. The music seeps into our souls as we take our seats at a table for two against a wall a little ways back from the tiny stage. Every patron in the bar bobs in their seat, each to the beat of the instrument that speaks to them. Charlotte and I stay for hours, listening to the music, having a couple of drinks, and I finally get her to eat some food.

  It’s well past midnight when we finally leave. She’s quiet on the drive home, but the car is void of tension. In truth, I think she’s asleep, until I reach the turn-off to go either to her dorm or to the frat house. When I turn the wheel in the direction of her dorm, she speaks up.

  “I’m not ready to go to the dorm. Can we hang out on the beach by your house?”

  “Sure, my dear,” I reply and cut the wheel to the right. It isn’t long before we sit on the manmade beach along the lake on the edge of campus. We fall back into that comfortable silence, both gazing out over the water. A peace fills me during these quieter times when she erases the loneliness. I can’t help but wonder if she takes note of the way the full moon reflects off the still waters. I turn my head to ask her, but her voice cuts me off.

  “Henry?” The hesitancy in her tone, that fearful way her tongue caresses each letter of my name, turns me into a ball of nerves.

  Her arms hug her knees to her chest as she gazes out over the lake. The soft glow of the moonlight illuminates her features in a gentle light. A breeze blows the untethered wisps of her hair across her face. My silence draws her gaze, and her eyes bore into mine.

  I don’t need to search her soul for answers. The questions are written in every sad line marring her beautiful face. “Yes, my dear?”

  A deep inhale precedes an audible sigh. I press my lips into a thin line, nervously awaiting her insecurities to manifest in a barrage of questions I don’t know how to answer in a way that won’t end up destroying us both.

  “What was your thought when my dad called you my boyfriend?” Her voice may not be strong, but her eyes hold mine in an intangible grip.

  “Honestly?” I ask as a means to stall for a moment.

  She nods her head and waits patiently for my response.

  I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “I liked the sound of it.”

  “Is that what we are, though?” she cuts right to the chase.

  “Is that what you want?” I counter, still too damn chicken to just admit to how much I need her.

  She shifts, folding her legs underneath her before knee-walking the foot or so over to me. “Henry,” slips from her tongue, heady with her emotions, while her hands cup my face. “I know I’m terrible at this game most girls play. I’ve been fine taking it slow, because…” she trails off.

  “Because?” comes out broken because my heart is in my throat. Could she possibly love me, the way I love her?

  Her eyes search mine, weighing my character. I’d give anything for her to tell me what she sees. I refuse to use my powers on this woman; refuse to cheat with her.

  “Because I care about you. There’s something about you, Henry, something special, and I…”

  And, you? my voice screams in my head. She’s right here, begging me to admit my feelings, to admit that she’s special to me too.

  Then my conscious kicks in. Is she special because of who she is or what she is or maybe even the power she possesses?

  I’m terrified to examine the questions. Afraid that I’ll see myself for the selfish creature I’ve been for thousands of years. I don’t want to be that man anymore. I want to be the man she sees. However, the man she sees would let her go because he knows he is no good for her.

  “I,” she swallows hard, and leans in closer to me, “would like to be your girlfriend.”

  I am not that man. I’m a damned man. “Im iam damnari,” slips through my lips before I brush them against hers. My fingers find her cheekbones and follow them back to the beginnings of her jawline before drawing her face closer. I cock my head, deepening the kiss, and she moans with relieved satisfaction, her arms curling around my neck. Our tongues roll over the others, exploring and cataloguing. I groan with pleasure, my body responding with heated need. I have never wanted a woman for myself. As much as I want her though, for now, I’m content to just sit here and kiss her, with all the pure innocence of youth, and fall deeper under her spell.

  Chapter 15

  You became the center of my world…

  Time passes, too slow and yet, too fast. Everything I do is for Charlotte. Every thought I have considers her in some way. Our relationship took a colossal leap forward on an emotional level after that first kiss. On a physical one, well, we haven’t done much more than make-out on the beach by the frat house, or in the backseat of my Jeep, or in her dorm room during the day.

  The mission named Breaux is halfway on track. His depression over Charlotte is obvious to everyone but her, and Alyssa has him talked into some political science courses for next semester. Since Charlotte is always with me, he never sees her, and it’s killing him. Alyssa makes moves to sever their bond; however, her plans to date him fail when he asks Paige out instead.

  “You know why he’s going out with the friend over me, right?” She summoned me to meet behind the student union, in the dead hours of the night, two-thirty a.m. to be exact.

  “I was dead asleep, you know,” I grumble, frustrated to be out.

  “I can provide you with a permanent dirt nap, as the kids say, if you’d prefer.”

  I mumble a few choice words at such a low pitch that even she can’t hear them.

  “Now, do you know?”

  I nod my head. “Because Charlotte prefers to double date with Paige over him.” The dates were awkward, as he stares at my girlfriend the whole time, but they serve their purpose. “What more do you want me to do?” I don’t hesitate in asking because I know an order is coming.

  “Crush him,” slides through her lips in a detached voice.

  Even I’m a bit disturbed by the turn of her emotions of late. Before the staged car accident, Alyssa was a hotheaded bitch, and that was on a good day. I understood that, though. She had a mission to accomplish and her emotions ran with the course it took. She was also a lot of talk with no real bite. I was able to gauge how it was going based off her behaviors. Now, her cool indifference to the trauma she inflicts on others leaves me with no c
lue as to whether I’m doing enough to keep her from hurting Charlotte again.

  “Why?”

  She rolls her eyes in response. “To make sure he focuses on himself and not on her. I got him to pick up a couple poli-sci classes next semester, but that can change with the next one. You need to make sure that he has no chance with her.”

  “I’m dating the girl,” I snap. “What else do you want me to do? Propose? That will make total sense! I’ll just go from dragging my feet to full steam ahead, with no warning! I’m sure that won’t scare the hesitant girl that she is!”

  Alyssa’s open palm connects with my cheek with such force that my head snaps to the side. The sound echoes through the open air, and the sting catches me by surprise.

  “Don’t back talk me,” she hisses, keeping her volume low enough to be only for my ears. “You used to be a creative man who stopped at nothing to get the mission done. Now, you’re this weak creature, wrapped around the whims of a mortal, and you aren’t even getting any action for your trouble. Step up your game, and show Wesley that he has no chance in hell with her!”

  As the order is delivered, green flames burst above her opened palm, which her outstretched arm has right in front of my chest. I jump back before doubling over in a pain that erupts behind my eyes and turns my stomach. The ground smacks me in the face as I collapse and pass out.

  The early morning bustle wakes me from my leafy bed. I push myself to my feet and ignore the gawking stares of passing students. A dull ache sits behind my eyes as I stumble back to the frat house.

  “Henry!” Charlotte’s shocked voice pulls me up short as I cross the parking lot in front of her dorm. She rushes down the steps towards me, and when I blink my eyes to clear my head, I find her blocking my path. Delicate fingers trace the dirt on my face as she takes in my appearance. “You look like hell.”

  The rough quality to her voice draws my attention from my own problems. Her eyes are missing their normal sparkle. She wears no make-up and her hair is pulled back in a messy bun.

  She looks like hell, too. “Did your mother suffer a setback?” I ask, controlling the panic boiling in the pit of my soul to keep it from seeping into my question.

  She sighs and shakes her head. “No, her recovery is progressing, just slowly.” Her fingers massage her forehead and temples. “I don’t know how to explain it, there’s a pinch behind my eyes. I didn’t sleep well. Bad dreams.”

  With finals around the corner, headaches and lack of sleep aren’t abnormal side effects of student life. But, her description of her headache, that pinch behind the eyes, it’s too close to the tension I feel in my own head.

  “What kind of dream?” I’m unable to keep the apprehension from drenching my words.

  The brush of her lips eases the pressure in my head. The breaths of her answer caress my cheek. “Just a strange dream. Nothing to be concerned about.”

  If she had any other boyfriend, they wouldn’t be concerned, but she doesn’t. She has me. I promised myself that I would never use my powers on her, and yet, the glimpse I take is unintentional. The green fire of the ignes iudicii flashes through her mind, revealing the true cause of her ailments.

  Chapter 16

  You caused a crisis of conscious…

  I collapse in bed when I finally make it back into my bedroom at the frat house. I waved off Charlotte’s concern, sending her to Shakespeare by herself. The fire I saw in her thoughts terrifies me. The heels of my palms press into my eyes. Shit! What am I going to do?

  Am I getting too close? These months with her have changed me. I’m not the same bitter exile I was before I earned her love. However, I never considered that I would change her. I’ve been successful in keeping her from the boy, but not out of the line of fire, no pun intended.

  So, idiot, what do I do? My groan rumbles deep in my chest as I weigh my options.

  I stay the course, irrevocably altering the natural path of her life, and possibly her soul. Anyone else, I wouldn’t care, so why do I care now?

  Because, you care, my conscious argues and snickers at me. You’re as weak as Alyssa thinks.

  It’s not weakness to care about someone else. It’s a show of strength to tether your soul to another, to share your hopes and dreams with someone. It’s easy to be lonely and miserable. It’s hard to be with people and be happy.

  Be a man! that voice inside my head screams at me, the one who was happy being indifferent to the world around. Do your job! Complete the mission! She’s beneath you, just a human. In a hundred years, she won’t matter at all, but what you do now, will!

  Be a man! the other voice counters. Do what’s best for her, screw the consequences to yourself! Walk away! Let her have the life she’s supposed to have. A life without you and any other exile involvement!

  “I walk away and I leave her open to exile involvement!” I scream aloud. The house falls quiet after my outburst, and I tense at my stupidity. I grumble and change into my jogging clothes, doing my best not to think of anything until I’m a few miles, not only from campus, but also from the surrounding neighborhoods.

  I find myself running down River Road, following the banks of the Mississippi River. I listen to the pounding of my feet against the pavement and focus on the pumping of my arms. It isn’t long before I find myself outside of civilization, but I don’t stop running. The euphemism, “running from your problems,” finally makes sense.

  The sun sets before I stop. I’m not winded, just unwilling to ignore the consequences of my actions anymore. With one hand on my hip and the other rubbing the back of my head, I stare out over the vista of the river. I somehow stumbled upon a stretch of uninhabited land. It’s quiet here, absent of humanity and the indigenous wildlife. The emptiness lulls me into a sense of calm, and my rabid thoughts start up again.

  Where do my loyalties lie? That’s the ultimate question. When I fell, I had no loyalties to anyone, not even the exiles, but they filled that nagging need to belong to something. I never considered myself loyal to them. Our agendas coincided in the past. Now, they don’t. I still want to see the rule of man come to an end; I just don’t want to eradicate or enslave the species anymore.

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” says a voice from behind me that I didn’t expect to hear ever again.

  “Methos?” comes out of my mouth full of all the surprise I feel as I spin around to face him.

  He stands a few feet from me, dressed in a suit that should have him drenched in sweat. Instead, he stands perfectly straight, hands in his pants pockets, not a bead on his tan skin. The humid air doesn’t plaster his jet-black, straight hair to his head.

  “Henry,” he acknowledges with a nod, his piercing blue eyes searching deep into mine. “It’s been a long time.”

  “That it has.” I try to take a casual stance, but Methos isn’t a being to be trifled with. We were friends before the fall, a friendship that ended due to that unfortunate circumstance. He is a weapon of influence and intelligence, able to bend the minds of powerful men to guide the world’s population on the predestined path. The road traveled doesn’t matter, the end result does.

  “I don’t have time for chitchat, you understand?” He pauses, but not long enough to give me an opportunity to respond. “Where do your loyalties lie? To the girl or to the mission?”

  “Why does my mission, or the girl, matter to you?”

  He doesn’t answer, just continues to hold an iron grip on my gaze.

  Then lightning strikes. “They suit your needs,” I gasp.

  A slow nod is his only answer.

  “How?”

  A smile crawls onto his face. “Walk with me, Henry.”

  We amble down the bank, heading back to the city, both our arms clasped behind our backs, a silent show of harboring no ill intentions. He doesn’t begin talking again, until we’ve traveled a few miles.

  “You exiles are correct in your assessment of the power in both the girl and the boy. We fear them as well.”

 
; “I don’t understand,” I admit in a soft voice. “They’re nothing more than children.”

  “Children with dreams and good intentions, and the path to hell…” He trails off and glances at me through the corners of his eye.

  “Is paved with them,” I finish. My gaze drifts over the deceptively gentle ripples of the Mississippi. The surface hides the chaos and turmoil that roils underneath. It matches my mood. Having Methos take notice of Charlotte and Breaux makes me even more anxious over what to do myself, but I can’t give that away. “What exactly is your interest?”

  Again, his eyes swing to mine before sweeping back over the path in front of us. “I can’t answer that, Henry. It’s a risk talking to you at all, you understand.”

  I do. Even if I don’t talk about his appearance, there is no guarantee that the exiles won’t learn of it. One sweep of the mind and the information is out. “Then why approach me at all?”

  He stops walking and turns to gaze out over the water. “I needed to gauge your commitment to the girl, your desire to protect her, no matter the cost.”

  It makes no sense. “Why?”

  He turns to face me. “Because, if you can’t keep them apart, we will have to take matters into our own hands.”

  Chapter 17

  Had I known my actions would make you question my devotion…

  I miss the next day at school, taking my time to make my way back to campus and set up a plan to protect Charlotte. I realize something, out in the emptiness by the river. Nothing isn’t too bad. That’s what awaits me if I commit my loyalties to Charlotte. No afterlife for me, just nothing. I pause and look out over the water one last time. And, nothing isn’t too bad.

  My loyalties shifted, it’s time to formulate a plan. I need to separate Charlotte from her friend, by any means necessary, more for her safety since there are now two supernatural sides eager to kill her. I just need to settle on the method.