Dark & Dangerous: A Collection of Paranormal Treats

by Julie Kenner

  “Is she dead?”

  “No.” With Chris safely captured, Amanda opened her cell phone and dialed 911. Nick snatched the phone out of her hand. He looked positively savage.

  “Pack law takes precedence.”

  Though her heart skipped, she kept her expression calm, her voice steady. “Let me call an ambulance. She’s barely alive. I can’t let you take her. She’s not a shifter. She’ll die.”

  His eyes were dark, his expression unreadable. He closed his hand over her phone. “She’s a killer.”

  Amanda cursed. “Yes. But she’s human. Not Pack. Human justice is what she gets. She’ll die without medical attention. Even she doesn’t deserve death without a trial.”

  Nick didn’t appear convinced. Was he considering taking Chris anyway? Amanda couldn’t tell by looking at him. Though he stood quietly, he looked dark and dangerous, his expression remote. Tension radiated from the set of his shoulders.

  Amanda had the strongest urge to wrap her arms around him and draw some of that tension away. She shook her head to clear it and held out her hand. “I’ve got to call 911, then call in the arrest. Give me back my phone.”

  “The victims deserve justice.”

  “Human justice. She’ll get it.” Amanda held out her hand.

  On the ground, Christine lay unmoving. Amanda couldn’t tell if she was still breathing.

  “My phone, Templeton. Please.”

  “She knows about the Pack.”

  “She’s insane. They’ll never believe her.” Speaking with conviction, Amanda held out her hand again, fighting to keep her arm steady. “They’ll know she’s crazy. You heard her. She ate the victims.”

  Nick stared, then looked back at Amanda, down at her hand.

  Amanda held her breath.

  Finally, he tossed her the phone. “Call 911. Then notify your team. I need to call in myself.” And he turned his back to her.

  In a few minutes, they were surrounded by police. An ambulance, lights flashing, arrived too late to save the bodyguard. Chris’s shot had been clean through the heart, killing him instantly. They loaded Chris up in the ambulance and sped off.

  Gordy was pleased—shocked to learn the perp was a woman—but glad to be able to disband the task force and notify the police chief and the media that the killer had been captured.

  After he’d congratulated Amanda and shaken hands with Nick, Gordy ordered Amanda to take the rest of the week off. For once, she’d agreed. Once she filled out the necessary paperwork, she promised to go straight home.

  When the last police officer had left and the bodyguard’s body had been transported to the morgue, only Amanda and Nick remained, surrounded by yellow crime scene tape, watching the flashing lights fade into the night.

  Nick didn’t speak. No doubt he was still furious she’d interfered with Pack justice.

  Shoulders aching with tension, Amanda swallowed against the tightness in her throat and turned to go.

  She half hoped Nick would stop her.

  He didn’t.

  Nearly to the car, she realized she’d never been a coward before. She didn’t want to become one now. She needed to turn around and talk to him. If the short and wild heat that had blazed between them was over, she owed them both a better goodbye than that.

  Confused, she stopped. She wanted to look back to see if Nick was watching her, waiting for her, but her courage again deserted her. She didn’t know what to do. Keep going? Get in the car and drive away, back to the safety of her sterile existence? Or turn around and confront him? Fight for what she wanted more than she’d ever wanted anything else in her life.

  She’d always been a fighter.

  Amanda turned, ready to run to Nick if he’d open his arms.

  But she was too late. Moving so silently she hadn’t heard him, Nick had gone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  HE’D THOUGHT his heart would shatter as he watched Amanda walk off. Away from him, rejecting all that he was, all that they could be together, rejecting them without a word.

  He’d never known a woman’s silence could be so cruel. Watching the tense, military straightness of her shoulders, the choppy confidence of her walk, the breezy way her long hair swung around her shoulders, made him want to growl and go after her. Make her talk, make her look him in the face and explain.

  Instead, he ran. He’d noticed a park past one of these darkened streets. He’d find it, slip into the comforting shadows of the trees, and change. Only as an animal could he give in to such awful feelings of loss. Only as a wolf could he howl his agony to the moon.

  He ran as a man, faster than human men. Always conscious of his surroundings, he reached the edge of the park and slowed his pace.

  Another stepped out from under the trees. Kenyon.

  “We’ve caught the killer,” Nick said by way of greeting. Kenyon growled low in his throat when Nick finished relaying the rest of the tale.

  Finally, Nick ran out of words. Feeling awkward, he bounced on the balls of his feet, aching to change. He glanced toward the trees. Not many, but enough. Kenyon would understand.

  “I’ve got to go.” He started for the woods.

  “What of your mate, Amanda?” Kenyon called after him.

  Nick froze. Even hearing her name made his chest hurt. He cleared his throat, turning slowly. “She doesn’t want to be my mate.”

  “Unbelievable.” The other man sounded truly regretful. “She rejected you, just like Jason?”

  That stung, too. But maybe Kenyon was right. He tried for a shrug. “She couldn’t handle Jason being a shifter. I don’t know why I thought she’d feel differently about me.”

  “Maybe she does.” Kenyon pointed. A few blocks away a lone spotlight illuminated a woman, walking toward them fast. “It’s your Amanda. Lift your head, use your nose. I can taste her scent on the breeze.”

  Heart thumping in his chest, Nick could only stare. Helpless to move, to run, he barely noticed as Kenyon faded back into the shelter of the trees. He watched Amanda come closer and did the only thing he could think of.

  He changed.

  AMANDA WATCHED Nick change. As before, when Jason had shifted and totally altered her perception of reality, Nick’s form wavered and shimmered. Sparkles of light, reflecting off each other and the moonlight, surrounded him, became him, and then faded. When the mist cleared, a huge black wolf stood where a moment ago Nick had been. Eyes gleaming in the moonlight, the wolf watched her approach. She could have sworn she saw a flash of teeth.

  Wolf. A natural predator. Dangerous, her mind screamed. No. This was Nick. It wasn’t easy, but she kept moving. Unfaltering, each step carrying her closer to the man/beast—shifter, she told herself fiercely—closer to the shifter she loved. For she knew that now, knew it with a certainty from the core of her being. She loved him. Nick.

  He lifted his muzzle and scented the air. It might have been the angle of his head, or the way the moonlight bathed him, all shadows and angles and black, black fur, but she again saw a flash of his teeth. This time, she could have sworn he grinned.

  Finally, a foot away, she stopped. She held out her hand, as she would when approaching a strange dog, then shook her head and dropped down to her knees in front of him. Her heart pounded and sweat dampened her palms. He had to smell her fear. All she could hope was that enough of Nick remained inside the wolf to keep him from hurting her.

  Unmoving, he continued to watch her. Not warily, no, but not welcoming either. Aloof, perhaps, as though he didn’t really care what she did.

  Amanda knew better than that. Mates, he’d called them. They were mates. That was what she wanted, more than she wanted to breathe.

  Still the wolf—Nick—watched her. Unmoving. She realized then he wouldn’t come to her. She’d have to go to him.

  On her knees, she crawled the last few inches that separated them, wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his fur. Nick’s scent was here still, and she hugged him close and prayed she could co
mmunicate her love.

  “You are my mate, Nick Templeton. I love you.” Her voice was fierce but certain. He cocked his head, as if he hadn’t heard her, so she raised her voice and told him again.

  “I love you. All of you, what you are now and the man you are before you shift. You were right, we’re mates, and I’d like nothing better than to stay at your side for the rest of my life.”

  Absolutely still, he listened. Then, with a fluid twist of his lean body, he slipped from her grasp, and walked to the edge of the trees. There, he looked at her over his shoulder, his lupine form sinuous and powerful.

  Rejecting her?

  Aching, she held out her arms, conscious of the hot tears running down her face, of the need that showed in her eyes, and not caring. “Nick…”

  If he slipped into the shadows of the trees now, she’d know she’d waited too long to show him her acceptance, too long to take what he’d offered, too long for them to have a chance at happiness. She could only pray that wasn’t the case.

  He didn’t walk away. Instead, he changed. This time, when the twinkling lights and shimmers faded, the human Nick stood staring at her.

  Beloved. Licking her lips, she spoke the word out loud. “Beloved.”

  Though he didn’t respond in kind, she waited, admiring his lithe, athletic, naked body and hungering.

  Without self-consciousness, he walked to where he’d left his clothing on the grass. Still looking at her, he stepped into his pants, pulling them over his lean hips and fastening them at the waist. Bare-chested, he rolled his shoulders, flexing his muscular arms while his unwavering gaze locked on hers.

  “Say it again,” he demanded, hoarse-voiced. With each word he came closer, until he towered over her.

  “Beloved,” she said.

  He held out his hand.

  Gazing up at his face, she repeated her earlier words. “I love you.” Slipping her hand into his, she let him help her to her feet. She opened her mouth to tell him all she felt, all the emotion and longing and love inside her, but the instant she was standing, he pulled her into his arms and captured her mouth with his.

  Neither of them spoke for a long while.

  Finally, Nick lifted his head. “Mine,” he growled, his eyes glowing. “Mine.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Yes, yours. And you’re mine.” Then again, “Mine.” Her throat closed, full with emotion. Standing on her toes, she placed a fierce kiss on his mouth. “I love you, Nick Templeton. All of you.”

  Later, after he’d kissed her so thoroughly her head spun, they ran for her car. Laughing and eager, they couldn’t keep themselves from touching even as they ran. Once inside with both doors closed, Amanda heard only the sound of their breathing and the rapid pit-pat of her heart.

  “I want to make love to you.” Nick leaned across the seat, capturing her lips again and stealing what little breath she had left.

  “Not here,” she finally managed, fumbling to place her key in the ignition and start the engine.

  “Where?”

  “My place.”

  “The hotel’s closer.” He pointed.

  Agreeing, she turned left.

  Heart in hands, eyes, voice full of love, they barely made it to his room.

  Forever Mine

  Linda Winstead Jones

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER ONE

  EVERYTHING ABOUT this lovely old house was familiar. The odors that had seeped into the walls and the furnishings over the years, the way the steps creaked when she climbed them, the angle of the sunlight that streamed through the second-story window on this brilliant and beautiful autumn day. It was good to be home.

  Too bad Tony had come home with her.

  Miranda Garner stood at her bedroom window and looked down on the driveway below, where she’d parked her car earlier that day. There were still a few boxes in the trunk, things she could do without for a day or two. She was so tired, she just couldn’t face unloading everything this afternoon.

  There had been a time when she’d had boundless energy. She’d worked at the library, volunteered afternoons at the retirement home and painted mediocre but relaxing landscapes on the weekends. There had been dinners with friends, here and at their homes, and she’d taken a few computer classes at the community college. Even after the trouble had begun, she’d managed to keep herself busy.

  But lately, Tony hadn’t been letting her sleep. He woke her in the middle of the night, time and again, and when she did manage to sleep he disturbed her dreams. That was the worst, when he seemed so real and solid and alive. After one of those dreams she always woke in a sweat, her heart pounding and her mouth tasting of copper, and there was no more sleep after that.

  Through the open doorway she heard a step creak, much as it had when she’d climbed the stairs to bring her luggage to this bedroom, after being gone from Cedar Springs for six months. She didn’t bother to turn or call out. She knew who was climbing those stairs.

  “Go away,” she whispered without turning to the open doorway.

  Another stair squealed.

  “Go away!” Miranda shouted, her voice angrier and more desperate than it had been the first time.

  A few more steps creaked, and then she heard the shuffle of a shoe on the hallway floor at the top of the steps. A half second later there was another softly rasping step, just outside her door.

  And then he was behind her. She felt his sigh on the back of her neck, even though he had no breath. She felt his gentle touch on the small of her back, even though he had no fingers. She began to shake, from the bones outward. “Go away, go away, go away!” She spun to face Tony, but of course he disappeared. But not before she’d glimpsed the curve of his cheek and the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile.

  These days Tony was with her wherever she went. Miranda had left her family home in Cedar Springs, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to follow. He had, of course. She’d moved several times in the past six months, hoping to escape him, but wherever she went he was there.

  Tony claimed to love her, but if he truly loved her, wouldn’t he listen to her and do as she asked? Wouldn’t he leave her in peace if he had ever cared for her?

  The police were no help at all, not anymore. In fact, their sympathy had long ago turned to suspicion and then contempt. They thought she was a nutcase, and heaven help her, maybe she was.

  Tony was a ghost. Just over a year ago, she’d killed him.

  JOHN STARK stepped into the outer office and did a quick double take. “What the hell is that?”

  His secretary Claudia—invaluable personal assistant, as she insisted on being called on her bad days—grinned at him.

  “Some psychic you are. Those are flowers. Maybe if you got out more often you’d recognize them.”

  John glared.

  “They’re from Mr. and Mrs. Thornton. Aren’t they lovely?”

  The bouquet was gaudy, and the blooms stunk of, well, flowers. He looked at the blooms, the scent assaulting him, and he automatically thought of death. “Get rid of them.”

  Claudia’s cheerful smile disappeared, and she narrowed her eyes in that disapproving way she had. “We don’t see a lot of happy endings here, Stark. The least you can do is enjoy this one. You told the cops where to find the kid, they actually listened to you for a change, and the boy is fine.”

  “It was just another job.” He refused to celebrate happy endings because that meant he’d have to give equal weight to the not-so-happy cases. They far outweighed the happy, and giving them too much power would
kill him, if he allowed it. “Toss the flowers out or take them home with you. If they’re here in the morning I’ll throw them out the window myself.” That was probably a crime of some sort in Atlanta, but he didn’t care. He would not have his office looking and smelling like a funeral parlor.

  Claudia produced an almost comically sour face. “I guess I can take them home with me.” She decided she liked that idea, and her expression changed subtly. “Jeffrey will think I have a secret admirer.” She waggled her eyebrows at the mention of her new husband.

  “You want to make him jealous?”

  “It won’t hurt to keep him on his toes, so to speak,” she said. “Don’t worry. I won’t make him suffer for very long.”

  Women. John propped himself on the edge of Claudia’s desk. “What have we got?”

  She lifted a short stack of pink sheets and began to shuffle through them. “Yesterday was a slow day and there hasn’t been much this morning. Another phone call from that girl at the television station—”

  “No TV,” he interrupted. His caseload was heavy enough, almost strictly through word of mouth. The last thing he needed or wanted was more exposure.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger,” Claudia said. “I said I’d pass on the request and I did. There were also calls from a relatively desperate homicide detective in Tampa with a possible serial killer, a man in Nashville who thinks his wife is cheating on him, a woman in Charlotte who thinks her husband is gay, a lady from Cleveland who saw your picture on the Internet and thinks she’s your soul mate—”

  “The Internet?” John snapped. That was potentially worse than a locally aired television interview.

  Claudia nodded. “Yep. There was one other call, from a woman who lives in Cedar Springs, Mississippi.”