Dark and Dangerous: Six-in-One Hot Paranormal Romances

by Jennifer Ashley

  The vampire was stunning and ferocious. Because of the books she’d read, she had thought his kind would be pale-skinned from lack of blood, an un-beating heart, and the inability to get a decent tan because of an intolerance for sunlight. But the world of the Realm produced vampires of every possible hue, from the deepest browns and blacks to almost pure white. The solar disability and the persistent blood-needs had nothing to do with skin-tone.

  His Guard uniform did not help at all. The man looked like a fierce pirate with a soft maroon woven shirt, topped by a thick black calf-length leather coat. The coat wasn’t exactly a coat because it didn’t have sleeves, just a thick pad of very soft leather at the shoulders that descended in two panels that hung open in the front.

  A black leather shoulder strap crossed over his chest, and angled to his waist, undoubtedly a throw-back to times when swords were used. No swords now, just the power that a Guardsman could gather through his battling frequency and send outward through his arms, hands, and chest, tight beams of killing energy. Black leather pants and silver-buckled top boots finished off the uniform that had most women doing double and triple takes.

  Gerrod was magnificent, well-built with broad shoulders, as all the fighting Guardsmen were, his skin an exquisite golden color. He held himself in a proud manner, as befitted his leadership status. Even now his arms were crossed over his chest as he glowered at her.

  He had long black hair that flowed away from strong features. His cheeks were pronounced and sharp, his jaw-line angled, his lips full and sensual. But it was his eyes that tore at her, that made his presence almost unbearable. They were the clear blue of a summer mountain sky, so clear that often when she looked at him, she felt as though she was looking back in time and forward all at once.

  Of course that he affected her in such a way that she often wanted to simply shed her clothes and fall down on her back, ticked her off. Thank God she was made of sterner stuff, because all these unhelpful reactions strengthened her intention to keep the vampire at bay.

  Besides, he was such a pain in the ass, like now. So typical. He’d been standing behind her, forever. And when he finally did speak to her, he used that wretched, oh-so-familiar hostile tone of his, this time to challenge her because she’d been laughing.

  “You think I’m laughing at your customs?” she returned.

  “And what else would you be laughing at, Mistress Abigail?” His words were hard, as they usually were when he spoke to her. She’d at least grown accustomed to that. But because she sensed that he either disliked her or disapproved of her, or both, she simply didn’t know why he stayed anywhere near her, like now.

  She lifted her chin. “I would never laugh at Merhaine customs. I might disagree with them because I find some to be abhorrent to the status of women in your culture, but I would never laugh.”

  “I heard you laughing.”

  She chuckled again but shook her head. She moved back to stand beside him. She wasn’t going to continue this conversation staggered as they were, like stair-steps.

  “Mastyr Gerrod,” she said, lowering her voice. “I found the wedding ceremony, including the way their arms were bound with a vine, charming, poignant, even moving. I laughed just now because a troll fell into a wedding cake. Come on. That was funny.”

  He grunted his disapproval.

  At that, she turned to face him fully. She was exasperated to say the least. “You know, you really need to lighten up.”

  He glanced down at her. “I have no idea what that means. I have heard the expression time and again, but it makes no sense to me.”

  “It just means not to take everything so seriously.” She waved a hand in the direction of the now smashed wedding cake. “The troll is drunk, that alone is funny. Wouldn’t you agree? He’s still wobbling around and he has a streak of frosting now between the second and third ridges of his forehead.” She glanced over her shoulder then back. “And now his wife is beating him over the head with their son’s teddy-shifter-bear. Come on. Even the bride is smiling now and it’s her cake that the troll ruined.”

  Gerrod’s lips twitched, and the right side of his lips almost curved creating a faint, lop-sided smile. But that was when she made her mistake. “Yeah, like that. Smile. Lighten up.” She poked his arm with two fingers, intent on teasing him a little more.

  But the moment she made physical contact with him, the very first ever in her year-long acquaintance with him, something very strange happened. She felt odd waves rolling toward her, waves that felt like fingers gliding over her skin, exploring her, savoring her.

  She looked up meeting his gaze. Now he turned fully toward her so that they were face to face. Her lips were parted because she was having trouble dragging in air. Why his were, only he could speak to that.

  Touching a mastyr vampire wasn’t precisely forbidden, but Gerrod had always kept his distance. This was something she’d noticed from the first day she’d met him, that as soon as she was within two feet of him, he stepped away another foot. She had thought it an annoying habit, a sure sign of his continued disapproval. But right now, because she’d touched him, she wasn’t so sure.

  Abigail’s heart began to race. She’d had many concerns about entering into business with a fae partner and opening a bakery deep into Merhaine territory. But right now she realized this was the real danger she faced, that the vampire Mastyr Gerrod, ruler of Merhaine, affected her as though she was always within a hair’s breadth of tumbling into bed with him.

  She knew the danger the terrible Invictus presented, she even understood that there were factions among the realm-folk who didn’t want humans in Merhaine and would do whatever they could to get rid of her and her kind. Yes, these things worried her very much. But as she looked into Gerrod’s intense blue eyes, she finally understood the true source of every reticence she’d experienced since she’d come to this realm: Dammit, she had the hots for a friggin vampire.

  She desired him with a need that seemed to burn through her and touching him just now, brought all that need rushing to the surface yet again.

  His gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips and even to her breasts. She could feel the sudden hardening of her nipples as the need spread. How many times had she wondered if he was doing this to her, using vampire powers. But the realm-folk she knew had assured her that vampires, however much the Earth-based myths said otherwise, didn’t have the power to enthrall.

  The fae population could, but not vampires.

  Very strange, this realm world.

  So what was this she felt, this deep desire for Gerrod and why, when he looked at her with his eyelids heavy, his lips parted, his nostrils flaring, did she want to take his hand, lead him deep into the forest, and beg him to have his way with her. What was this need?

  He stepped closer and though he was frowning heavily like his temper was ready to take off the top of his head, he actually touched her, sliding his hand over her arm. Once again, she felt those strange waves emanating from him and her desire increased almost to a painful stage.

  What is that? Her mind cried.

  But he leaned close now and stared harder, peering into her eyes. What did you say?

  She glanced at his lips. They hadn’t moved. Telepathy? No, oh, God no. This couldn’t be happening, wasn’t happening. She knew many in Merhaine could communicate through telepathic frequencies, pathing was what they called it.

  Could she?

  This couldn’t be happening, couldn’t be true. She stared into his eyes, horrified, yet she had to know the truth. So, once more she aimed her thoughts carefully, I wanted to know what I was feeling from your hand. It felt like waves flowing out of you and into me.

  The thought of it, the presence of it, the feel of it beating into her body, brought desire hurtling through her. She planted her hand on his chest. The waves pounded through her now, engulfing her.

  He looked so angry and his grip on her arm became painful. This can’t be happening. You can’t feel these waves and you
can’t be reaching me telepathically. It’s. Not. Possible.

  Gerrod, what are you doing to me? And please, you are hurting my arm. Vampires were strong.

  The pressure diminished but his expression hardened. You are speaking to me telepathically and you are experiencing my personal frequency, my realm vibration. No one can do that except when I allow it, but you accessed it freely. And you are...human. This cannot not be happening.

  She was struggling to breathe. But his touch, and the flowing waves, had her trapped. She strained toward him, but he kept a grip on her arm, holding her away from him. He squeezed his eyes shut. This is impossible. You can’t be what you seem to be. You can’t be. You’re human. This is unacceptable.

  Abigail slid her hand up his chest and reached his mouth. She ran her thumb over his lips.

  How inappropriate and thank goodness they were standing at the back of the crowd. In the distance, she could hear another groomsman making a toast. Though it was nighttime, the floodlights lit mostly the band, the bridal table, and the dance floor. This far back, she stood in the shadows.

  Time came to a swift stumbling halt.

  Abigail looked at Gerrod as if for the first time. She felt a call so deep in her soul, driving her toward him, that to not respond, not to say ‘yes’, felt like a crime for which she would be punished if she didn’t obey. She needed this vampire, craved him. For the first time, her vein began to rise in her throat, because that’s the only way she could describe what she experienced. She needed him to take her blood because that would complete something essential between them, as essential as the nature of a kiss, as critical as the fulfillment of lovemaking.

  Yet, she was human and didn’t truly belong in the realm world. She belonged in Flagstaff, the nearest access point to the Merhaine Realm.

  The tip of his tongue teased her thumb. You taste of the sweetest herbs. Dear Goddess, please forgive me.

  Before she knew what he meant by sending that particular message, he took hold of her arm, swung her in the direction of the forest, and led her twenty yards into the dark, a good distance from the crowd that now applauded. Music began at the same time, a lively folk song made for dancing.

  He dragged her behind a tree and hauled her into his arms.

  She fell against him, limp, her body in full surrender and not caring that this was so inappropriate and doomed to cause all kinds of problems.

  For some strange reason as she stared up at him, though the forest was dark, his face was lit in a glow. Vampire magic? He was incredibly beautiful, his black brows thick and arched, his clear blue eyes thickly fringed, his nose straight, his lips full, his cheeks pronounced.

  He leaned close, his lips trembling over hers.

  “Do I have permission to kiss you?”

  God, yes.

  “Yes,” she whispered, panting against him, her fingers grasping the soft cloth of his loose Guard’s shirt. She dug deeper until her fingers found purchase in the hard muscles of his arms. His lips touched hers and the previous waves began to flow, heavier now.

  She parted her lips and his tongue entered her, piercing her, plunging in and out.

  She connected her hips low and felt the long rope of him. Her knees weakened further.

  She suckled his tongue and he groaned again. The waves came faster now and seemed to pluck at every part of her body at once. She wanted to fall on the ground, but in gentle stages he eased back. But by then she was in agony and breathed hard. She pressed her forehead into his shoulder.

  What is happening? she asked.

  I fear it is something that will alter your life forever, unless you are wise, and choose to leave Merhaine. You would be wise, Abigail, not to come back and I’m begging you to do just that. You are not realm. You don’t understand our customs. My people would have great difficulty accepting you.

  But beyond that, the Invictus have grown active again. A polite euphemism for death and destruction.

  She drew back, but in her heels the uneven ground put her off-balance. She started to fall.

  He caught her, righting her, then held her steady.

  “Just tell me one thing,” she said. “What are the waves that you send through my body. They almost undo me. I...that is...you could have...I wouldn’t have objected.”

  She met his gaze but she was blushing.

  A soft strange growl left his lips. So vampires growled at such moments. He wasn’t human, but why didn’t that seem to matter to her? And why could she speak with him mind to mind? She should have cared, it should have been paramount. And her vein still throbbed, begging for him to take her very life-force.

  “I swear you’ve enthralled me,” he said, a deep furrow now between his brows. “This must be your doing, Abigail. It was there from the first.”

  “Gerrod are you saying that you’ve been attracted to me since that first day?”

  “I won’t deny it.”

  “I thought you disapproved of me.”

  “I’m frustrated, even distressed, that I’m drawn to you, a very different thing.”

  She put her finger in the furrow between his brows and rubbed. He let loose with a sigh, closing his eyes. She added, “You’re worried all the time.”

  “Yes.” His voice was always little more than a deep, gravelly growl.

  “One of the fae told me that there are a million realm in Merhaine. Is this true?”

  He nodded.

  “You have charge of a million souls then?”

  “I do.”

  “No wonder you rarely laugh.” She had meant to tease him but when he didn’t even smile, when he looked away from her, she finally understood his most essential self. He was responsible and he put those responsibilities above everything else in his life including his own happiness.

  “No wonder your people thrive,” she said.

  His gaze snapped back to her. “Why do you say that?” Again that deep furrow appeared.

  “You’ve laid your life down for your people, no doubt for decades. Why wouldn’t they thrive? But what of you, Gerrod? What of your own happiness?”

  He stared down at her with a stunned look in his eye as though she had asked something never heard of before. Then he just looked confused. But as other thoughts intruded, his face hardened. He looked like a vampire who had been standing in a strong wind for a very long time, centuries perhaps.

  “We should get back.”

  She nodded. The moment had passed. The only understanding that had been reached was that she desired him and he desired her, and that the realm world had no place for a human female in a mastyr vampire’s life.

  As he turned to offer his arm, however, a strange keening sound broke through the forest, a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

  Abigail turned toward the sound and watched as a red mist moved between the trees toward the reception.

  “Red wind,” she whispered.

  His gaze shot to her once more. “You can see that?”

  She nodded.

  He turned back as well. “The Invictus are here. Dear Goddess help us this night.”

  *** *** ***

  “I will path you,” Gerrod said. “It’s the fastest way. Do you trust me?”

  She blinked as though surprised. “Yes, of course.”

  He didn’t exactly have time to explain. He slid his arm around her waist, dragged her against his side, lifted her off her feet, and sped back to the reception.

  Her hand clutched his soft shirt, but other than a small, ‘oh,’ she didn’t offer a single protest.

  Five seconds later, he took her to Augustus. “The Invictus are coming. See to everyone.”

  “Yes, Mastyr.”

  He turned to Abigail. “Go with Gus.”

  She nodded in several quick bobs of her head.

  He looked around, still holding her hand. There were at least three hundred realm-folk at the festivities, including the caterers and musicians.

  He telepathed Jason. How far away a
re you?

  Seven minutes.

  Hurry. We’ve got Invictus sign.

  He looked down at Abigail’s hand not understanding why he was so damn reluctant to let it go. He met her gaze and saw in her eyes so much compassion that he had to look away.

  Finally, he released her hand. “Go to the castle with Gus. Go quickly.”

  Again, she did nothing more than nod in agreement as though she understood. Well, she had been in and out of Merhaine for a year now and she had numerous realm friends. She would have heard many times about the Invictus. She would understand the trouble they faced.

  “Go,” she said softly. “Do what you do best.”

  He searched her gaze. Satisfied that she truly was all right, he turned on his heel and headed straight for the groom. He spoke swiftly to him. Gillet handed him the microphone.

  He faced the people he knew so well. The red wind drew closer, flowing through the trees, brightening. He was always surprised that so few could see it.

  “The Invictus are upon us. Please move into the castle with all due haste. Stay away from the forest. No one will be safe there. I will create a shield.”

  He heard Gus calling out in a powerful voice, bidding the guests follow him. The wedding party began to move, a little slow at first, as though stunned. But soon, those closest to the castle were running.

  Once the crowd was past him, he began spreading his power off to each side, high in the air, wider and wider, a barrier of protection. The Invictus would not be able to pass, but would be forced to do battle with him. As he had done for the past century and a half, since he had reached mastyr vampire status, he gathered his battling power.

  And there they were, at least twenty powerful Invictus wraith pairs. Their mates came to do battle as well, some vampires, a couple of trolls, several fae, and one elf. But all were soldiers now. Most of the realm-folk that had made the decision to bond with a wraith, sported spiked hair and gold loops hanging from their ears. All were air-borne in a strong form of levitation. Apparently, pairing with a wraith to form Invictus sharpened all powers. Blades of varying kinds were the weapon of choice.