The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

by Trisha Telep

  Nathan nodded, his lips tight. Despite the two inches of snow that had fallen, a fresh set of tyre tracks led down the lane that her aunt shared with the Forresters.

  “Oh, shit,” Emma whispered, then turned to Nathan. His gaze was fixed on the road. “I’m going to change. I’m faster that way, quieter. He’s probably still in human shape.”

  “And he might have a gun,” Nathan said grimly. “So don’t you think you’re going anywhere yet. Emma! Dammit.”

  She heard his curse, the slam of his fist against the steering wheel, then the agonizing crack of her joints as she began her change.

  Letty’s place rose up out of the darkness like a gingerbread house frosted with white icing. Nathan glanced over at Emma, sitting up with her ears pricked forwards. “OK, I agree. You’re safer in that form. Harder to argue with too - which I’m sure you love.”

  Emma turned her head and grinned at him before facing forwards again.

  “There’s his truck,” he said, unsure if Emma’s wolf eyesight had picked out the extended cab pickup parked just off the lane. “He drove past the house. Then did he walk back to Letty’s or head out on foot to my place?”

  Emma gave an uncertain whine. Nathan pulled up behind the truck and drew his weapon. “Stay behind me.”

  He approached the truck slowly and noted the magnetic sign stuck to the door. Fuller’s Plumbing. He pictured its owner, Mark Fuller - tall, sandy-haired, easy-going - and shook his head. Jesus Christ. He’d played ball with Fuller in high school.

  In all the years since, he’d never heard a whisper of trouble connected to Fuller. In a small town like Pine Bluffs, word got around. If Fuller had even looked at a woman strangely, had an argument or made an unwanted advance, Nathan probably would have heard of it. But Fuller had managed to stay squeaky clean.

  Footprints led away from the pickup, heading further off the road, into the pine trees. “Do you hear anything from inside the cab?”

  Emma shook her head. Nathan checked the truck, found it empty. A bandage, crusted with dried blood, lay crumpled on the passenger’s seat.

  What had Fuller thought, Nathan wondered, when the bleeding stopped so quickly? When his thumb began to heal over? Did he understand what was happening to him?

  “This guy has the right smell?”

  In answer, Emma put her nose to the ground, began following the footprints. They led to his place, Nathan realized, jogging beside her. Fuller must have parked here rather than risk anyone at Nathan’s house seeing the truck’s headlights or hearing the engine.

  Nathan dialled Osborne’s cell, and was putting his phone to his ear when the gunshots cracked through the night. He broke into a run. Emma streaked ahead.

  He didn’t slow to catch his breath when Osborne answered the phone. “Who fired?” Nathan asked.

  “I did. It’s Mark Fuller, hopped up on something. He took off, out of the house.”

  “Injuries?”

  “Not me or Miss Letty, sir. I hit Fuller but it didn’t slow him down.”

  “Did he have a weapon?”

  “If he did, he didn’t use it.”

  All right. “Hold your position. We’re coming up on the house now.”

  Or he was. Nathan disconnected, searching for Emma. Her tracks followed the footprints across the wide, moonlit clearing that separated his house from the woods, but he didn’t see her or Fuller.

  He stopped, used the wide trunk and low branches of a pine at the clearing’s edge for cover. The shadows around the house were deep; movement near the back porch caught his eye.

  Fuller. Hunched over, and using an eerie, loping gait that sent prickles of dread down Nathan’s spine. That gait didn’t look human or wolf, but simply mhuman. Moonlight reflected in Fuller’s eyes as he turned his head.

  He stopped, straightened - and stared directly at Nathan.

  Nathan held his breath, but his hopes that Fuller had just been searching the treeline and couldn’t see him were dashed when he hunched over again and began loping towards him. An eager, hungry growl carried across the clearing.

  Nathan stepped out of the trees, set his feet, steadily aimed his gun. “Drop to the ground, Fuller! Get down, or I will fire!”

  The werewolf kept running - grinning, panting.

  Nathan squeezed the trigger. Blood sprayed the snow behind Fuller’s left leg. But he kept on coming.

  Cold sweat trickled down the back of Nathan’s neck; he fired again: an abdomen shot that twisted Fuller to the side, briefly, before the bastard righted himself. If anything, he seemed to run faster. Nathan had time for one more shot. The chest was a bigger target than the head. The head was a kill shot.

  His next bullet ripped through Fuller’s scalp, laid white bone open to the moonlight. He didn’t miss a step.

  Nathan stumbled back, searching for the tree branch. He’d get higher, defend himself from a better position, if he had time.

  A dark form raced across the clearing and launched at Fuller. Nathan heard the impact of flesh and bone, saw the wave of snow that flew back from the two bodies hitting the ground.

  Nathan sprinted towards them. Growls filled the air, yips of pain. Emma’s?

  No, Nathan realized with relief as their twisting battle came to a halt. Emma pinned Fuller on his back with her large forepaw pressing into his bloodied chest. Her teeth closed over his throat.

  Fuller wheezed, his eyes opening wide. He flailed at Emma with his right hand. The thumb was gone, but a tiny protrusion of pink flesh had already begun to grow in its place.

  Nathan aimed his weapon at Fuller’s head. “Don’t move, Mark. Just stay still.”

  Fuller obeyed, dropping his fists to the snow at his sides. His chest heaved as he tried to draw in air. His frantic gaze met Nathan’s. “Can’t . . . stop.”

  “We’ll try to get you help,” Nathan promised. But he had a feeling they weren’t going to get Fuller out of this field. Madness filled the other man’s eyes, and Nathan didn’t trust that Fuller would stay down if Emma let him go.

  But he was staying down now, so Nathan asked, “Did you kill those women? Rape them, and leave them off the highway?”

  As if in ecstasy, Fuller’s eyes rolled back into his head. He ran his tongue over the grin that stretched his lips. “They were . . . so good. Want more.”

  Emma’s snarl echoed Nathan’s own rage.

  “And what were you planning to do here?”

  Fuller raised his right hand. “Knew . . . you’d find . . . fingerprint. Knew . . . you’d stop me. I can’t - don’t - want to stop.”

  Nathan shook his head in disbelief. No, he wouldn’t have found a match. Fuller had never been charged or booked. His prints wouldn’t have been in the system.

  Emma shifted her grip on his throat. Fuller’s voice rose an octave, took on a sing-song rhythm. “But when I came to your house, I smelled her. Oh, Miss Letty, Letty, Letty—”

  Emma tightened her jaw, cutting off the sick refrain.

  “Hold still,” Nathan ordered.

  Fuller lowered his hand again, but his other hand moved beneath his waist, pulling out—

  “Gun, Emma!” Nathan shouted. “Get back!”

  Her jaws clamped around Fuller’s neck as she twisted away. The rip of flesh was drowned by the roar of a gunshot.

  Emma yelped. Nathan shoved her to the side, stomped his boot into the bloody cavity she’d opened in Fuller’s throat. He aimed between the bastard’s eyes and fired.

  Nathan whipped around. Emma lay on the ground, blood spreading over and melting the snow beneath her.

  “Emma, Emma, Emma.” He fell to his knees, lifted her head onto his lap, stroked his hands over her fur, searching. It was a belly shot. Bad. Really bad for most wolves. “Tell me you’re going to be OK.”

  He heard the crack, felt her ribs bulge beneath his hands. “Jesus Christ, Emma.” He tore out of his coat, covered her with it, held her through the transformation. As soon as she lay panting and sweating in his arms, he said,
“I just meant for you to nod your head.”

  She laughed breathlessly, showing him her pale stomach. Blood stained her skin, but the wound had vanished. “Nice trick, huh?”

  His relief grabbed him by his throat, and took away any response he might have had. He hauled her up, sealed her mouth with his kiss, let her feel every emotion rushing through him. She clung to him, returned everything he gave.

  He stood and swung her up against his chest, her bare legs dangling over his arm. They stared down at Fuller’s body for a silent moment, then Nathan began carrying her towards the house.

  He took a long breath. “So, in a little while, once we’ve got everything settled, maybe you’ll take a risk with me.”

  She lifted her head to look at him. “Marry you?”

  His stomach dropped, but there wasn’t a bit of him that didn’t like the idea. “Well, that too. But I’m thinking more along the lines of you . . . biting me.” He brushed his lips against her mouth which had fallen open in surprise. “I’d like to run with you.”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes before she buried her face against his neck. “Yes,” she said. “Of course it’s yes. We can be our own little pack.” Her lips kissed his skin; her teeth followed it with a nip.

  He laughed, pressed his lips over her hair. “Let me get you home first.”

  “I’m with you,” she said simply, and her arms tightened around his neck. “So I’m already there.”

  The Dream Catcher

  Allyson James

  I should have listened to my mother.

  Normally, Natalia Sorvenska would never have dreamed of answering an invitation to Lady Delia’s autumnal soiree, no matter how prettily engraved. But the invitation had borne the words: “Lady Delia will display a Dream Catcher.”

  Natalia had never seen a Dream Catcher - mystical beings that lived in the mountainous region beyond the Eastern Rim. They were magical, mysterious, elusive. Snaring one was an astonishing feat.

  To judge by the crowd filling Delia’s mansion on the hill, Natalia surmised that no one else could resist coming either. Delia had hung her ballroom with garlands of real autumn leaves imported from the mountain forests, Dream Catchers’ realms. It must have been a huge expense to have them transported hundreds of miles across the desert. Musicians had been seated throughout the balconies, and captive glow-flies swirled against the misty black ceiling.

  Natalia sipped her blood-red wine and waited for something to happen. She was surprised that Lady Delia had bothered to invite her, when Delia made no secret that she despised Natalia and women like her. She must want to rub her acquisition of a Dream Catcher in Natalia’s face. The other guests were surprised at her inclusion too, if the way faces turned away and skirts were pulled aside when Natalia passed were any indication.

  At last they saw movement near the raised platform at the end of the ballroom. Skirts and silken veils rustled as the high-born ladies of Bor Narga pressed forwards to see. Natalia went with them, as shamelessly curious as the rest.

  “Ladies.” Delia N’riss stepped onto the dais and raised her hands for silence. “And gentleman,” she added as a deferential afterthought. Her guests dutifully tittered.

  “I’ve had the greatest good fortune. After a very long search, my hunters have at last found and captured a Dream Catcher for me.”

  She paused, gloating under their gasps of admiration. Delia had always demanded the most attention, even when she and Natalia had been childhood friends. Delia always had to dance in the front, be given the most sweets, wear the prettiest dress.

  Delia lifted her hands again, liking her power. “I have decided to share my fortune, my friends. I will allow the Dream Catcher to choose a lady from among my guests and read her dreams.” She smiled as a ripple of pleasure ran through the crowd. “And so without further ado, I bring you - the Dream Catcher.”

  No applause. Too many breaths were held for that. Two men in desert tunics walked onto the dais leading a third man by a rope. The rope was loosely knotted around his neck and again at his wrists, but witch rope didn’t need to be tight. Just its touch would keep magical creatures confined.

  Natalia froze. The Dream Catcher was a tall man, towering over his captives. He had a broad chest dusted with black hair, shoulder muscles rippling despite the bruises and burn marks on his skin. Black hair flowed like silk down his bare back, and he wore only a leather thong around his hips, a loincloth hiding his privates. The rest of his body was on display for all to see.

  Natalia looked. She couldn’t help herself. She had never seen so much naked male flesh in her life, not even her husband’s. Especially not her husband’s. The other ladies pretended to look away, to hide eyes behind veils, but how could they resist?

  The Dream Catcher stood upright, not cowed by his capture. But his leg was twisted, and the marks on his body indicated they’d beaten him. He hurt. Natalia suddenly wanted to touch him, to comfort him, to reassure him.

  As though he sensed her sudden stab of pity, the Dream Catcher raised his head and looked straight at her.

  Natalia felt herself falling, being pulled towards his great silver eyes, larger than a normal man’s, intense and magical. But no, she still stood on her two feet halfway across the ballroom. She squeezed the stem of her wine glass, unable to look away. The wine glass broke, and blood trickled down her fingers.

  The Dream Catcher cocked his head, staring at her like an animal intent on its prey. The ladies between him and Natalia parted as though his gaze physically shoved them aside.

  Lady Delia smiled a nasty smile. “It seems he has chosen you, Natalia.”

  The ladies around her looked disappointed. Some pulled their gauzy veils closer over their faces so they wouldn’t be caught having anything so gauche as an emotion.

  Natalia turned to Delia in confusion, breaking the spell of the Dream Catcher’s eyes. “No,” she said quickly. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. The Dream Catcher chooses the one whose desires most call to him.”

  Her eyes held viciousness. Natalia stared at her in shock. Delia couldn’t be that cruel, could she? But Delia’s smile told Natalia that she could. Her triumph in capturing a Dream Catcher must have gone to her head.

  “No,” Natalia repeated. She deposited her broken wine glass on a nearby table and turned to leave, sweeping her own crimson veil across her face.

  The silk stifled her, nearly gagging her. But behind it she could let hot tears build in her eyes. Damn Delia. She’d brought Natalia here for this little humiliation, nothing more. To mock Natalia’s perversions, to put her in the pillory for daring to want something forbidden.

  And damn Ivan Sorvenska’s tattling mouth. He’d ruined Natalia when he’d bleated to his own gossipy mother what Natalia had wanted their marriage to be. Animal lust, Ivan had sneered when Natalia shyly asked on their wedding night if they could share a bed. Is that what you are, Natalia, an animal? Why don’t you hire a Shareem and have done?

  Shareem were males created long ago for the sole purpose of pleasuring women. They lived in the slums of Pax City, and the occasional scandalous woman went to them for carnality. Some said they’d been bred with Dream Catchers, but no one knew for sure. Natalia had never been able to bring herself to seek out a Shareem.

  She’d thought that Ivan the charming, Ivan the handsome, Ivan who’d touched her hand and told her he liked her just as she was, would be amenable to doing what high-born men and women were supposed to shun - lie with each other. That was why she’d rejected the Ministry of Families’ carefully chosen mate and married without their blessing.

  She’d risked all to marry Ivan then discovered too late that he hadn’t wanted a physical marriage after all. He’d charmed Natalia in order to gain access to her money and the Sorvenska family name, which he took upon their marriage. He wore the name like a prize he’d captured. He was disgusted by Natalia’s request, and immediately moved to separate living quarters.

  Natalia could have b
orne the humiliation of his rejection, but Ivan had repeated all to his mother. Ivan’s mother, who’d never liked Natalia or the Sorvenskas, had spread the tale of her daughter-in-law’s disgusting perversions far and wide.

  Ivan’s mother had urged Ivan to sue for divorce, citing Natalia’s unacceptable predilections. Ivan could make much money from the suit as the wronged party. He’d been in the planning stages when he’d died, falling, drunk, from a balcony. People had looked at Natalia in suspicion, but fortunately Natalia had been at a meditation centre during the incident, and the speculation had to die.

  Natalia had thought her hungers would disappear after her experience with Ivan. But no, her lustful thoughts continued to plague her. She’d glimpsed a Shareem once, when she’d been running an errand in the middle of the city. His physicality had nearly sent her to her knees. He hadn’t even looked at her, but his tightly muscled body and beautiful face had haunted her dreams for months.

  She turned back reluctantly, wanting another glimpse of the Dream Catcher. He was still watching her, his silver gaze pulling her like a magnet. She lowered her veil enough to meet his eyes again.

  Don’t go.

  She stopped, startled, but no one else had heard him. His voice was warm, velvety and sensual, and she wanted to hear it again. Why shouldn’t I? she stammered silently.

  He didn’t respond. But he couldn’t read her mind, could he? Dream Catchers couldn’t read actual thoughts, just fantasies, dreams.

  Dreams they took and made reality. Whatever you wanted. For a little while. You could touch and hold and taste and smell whatever you wanted. Whatever you desired. For a little while.

  Women spent entire fortunes to find Dream Catchers. Some became so enamoured of their dreams that they could not go back to their normal lives. Like a person who could not survive without an excess of wine, these women became addicted to Dream Catchers.

  That does not need to happen, his voice whispered. You do not live on your dreams.