Taming the Beast: Eleven Paranormal Romances

by Alyse Zaftig

  In a sense of delirium, I was sure that I’d already died from exposure the moment I saw Bram walking out of the creepy shadows back on the moor. Easily six-foot-five, with broad shoulders, a chest like a linebacker, and muscles I could see bulging even under the thick woolen coat he was wearing, he could have easily been some kind of mysteriously sexy angel. But instead, he was a grumpy, brooding man whose expression was sour enough that it looked as though I had just spit in his food.

  Then there was the simple matter of him sneaking up on me like that. No one was capable of doing that…not when I could hear their thoughts.

  That was the thing about Bram, though. There were no thoughts.

  All I could hear were his grunts and sighs to himself as he helped me find my way back. Clearly the last thing he wanted to do was to help me, but I didn’t know that for sure since I couldn't read his thoughts. I had never been in the presence of someone like this, and not only did it leave me feeling as though I were grasping around in the dark (which I technically was), but I felt vulnerable. Whatever he was going to say or do, I couldn't brace myself for it.

  A thought tickled the back of my brain, telling me I knew what this had to mean. As far as my family and I knew, the only kind of people in this world I couldn't mentally read were supes—supernatural creatures that could change their human form. Typically, into an animal. Which meant that I was dealing with a possible shifter, and judging by the sheer size of Bram, he wasn't going to be some cute little house cat, either.

  And he wanted me to stay the night with him? How was I supposed to feel about that?

  Oh, there were many ways I felt about it, but the most rational thought was that it wasn't a terribly good idea. I considered just telling him thank you and making my way up to the cottage anyway, but the idea of being alone wasn't as appealing as it was earlier.

  Not wanting to pry, I kept the fact that I knew he was some kind of shifter to myself, following behind Bram as he led us off the beaten path that trailed down the side of the hill not far from the tour.

  Up ahead was a line of trees thick and dark, easily intimidating my next few steps. I was about to ask him if we were going to have to go through the creepy forest, when Bram pointed to a break in the tree line as it stepped down with the hill. He beckoned for me. "Just through here."

  I could already smell the faint whiff of chimney smoke, and when Bram took my hand in his much larger one pulling me along with him, I felt the shock run through me. It reminded me of the way my mom described having her flashes of intuition, as she called them. But I wasn't the clairvoyant.

  Everything in me that felt jumbled and ready to jump at the first sign of danger suddenly calmed down as we stepped into a clearing where the most out of place building I had ever seen before, stood out against the hillside it was perched upon.

  Now, when you think of Scotland, you think of the cottages, the old worldly feel of a time that had long since passed. This? This was something entirely different.

  I gazed up at the modern looking home with windows circling the round building nearly all the way, a tiny pipe jutting out of the roof with a slow trail of smoke curling out. The house was seemingly shoved into the hillside itself. It was as though I was standing in front of one of those fancy designer homes you can find in California, overlooking some large body of water dotted with about a dozen yachts.

  "What?" Bram's voice caught me off guard, rough and quizzical.

  I cleared my throat, not wanting to seem so easily impressed for some weird reason. "Is this place yours?"

  He looked at the house for a moment and back at me. "Does that surprise you?"

  It was hard not to snort, because of course it did. This house was the very last thing I expected to see out in the middle of nowhere. I may have been stereotyping him, but a huge, strapping man like Bram looked just as out of place next to the house as the house looked next to the woods. "A little. I mean, it's really nice. Definitely my taste…I just didn't think…"

  Bram kept walking until we stood at the bottom of the stone steps leading up to the front of the house, his hand grasping the wooden railing tightly. "Come along. It's starting to get colder out."

  Even with his surly brow raised at me, Bram obviously was concerned enough for my safety. Maybe that should have alarmed me, given that no one gives a damn about anyone's safety back home, but it didn't. In fact, it highly encouraged the feelings that were lurking underneath to simmer to the top, my cheeks flushing as I imagined those same hands tightly grabbing my waist…

  Once we were inside, the drastic change in temperature nearly suffocated me, the heat from inside set on full blast. "Your house is pretty toasty for someone who likes to go walking around in the cold at night," I choked out, struggling to untangle my two scarves from around my neck.

  Thinking I would get at least a little chuckle out of him, I was disappointed to see that Bram completely ignored me and walked past the lavishly decorated open living room, and around the corner of the glass fireplace.

  I sighed and found one of the comfier couches to lounge in, the cold already leaving my body as the heat surrounded me.

  Between the impeccably clean house and the crotchety attitude, I had to wonder about him and whatever led him here. It was clear that Bram himself was some kind of supernatural creature, I could practically feel the otherness rolling off of him in waves, so maybe that had something to do with it?

  The house would've easily cost over a million dollars in upstate New York, if not more. What did he do for a living that had him so set for life? I don't know why, but another lustful imagining popped into the forefront of my mind, this time with Bram sitting on the edge of the black couch with a sly smile on his face, shirtless and holding a glass of wine. Speaking soft, beautiful words of Gaelic in some older woman's ear.

  I could physically see him as something sexy like an escort, but his personality alone would have women running for the hills if he was to be their date. The wild in his gray eyes meant he wasn't fit for high society…no, he was definitely more of a hands-on kind of guy. Which was sort of perfect for someone like me.

  No, you will not sit here and undress him with your eyes! This is a temporary thing, and in fact the very thing you've been trying to get away from! Even the high-pitched voice in my brain wasn't trying very hard to convince me. I was trying to get away from men in general, because nothing was a bigger turn-off than actually hearing what they thought about you before and after sex.

  I tried to shut up the other, smaller voice inside that gently reminded me that this wouldn't be a problem with Bram and that I had indeed gone exactly seven months and three weeks without having sex. In theory, it all seemed to fit together perfectly.

  I shook my head so close to speaking aloud to myself that I jolted forward with my eyes bulging wide when Bram re-entered the room holding two glasses of what was either a healthy dose of Vodka, or ice water.

  As if he was reading my mind, my mouth started to water. Probably because of the heat. Also probably because Bram was now wearing a tight white t-shirt and gray sweatpants that were slung low enough that I could just barely make out the defined 'V' of his pelvic bone.…

  I tried desperately not to stare right at his crotch, but it was sort of hard… Or at least it was difficult not to…

  "Water?" he asked, the lilt in his accent tickling in my chest. I always wondered why women got so hung up on the way men spoke from different parts of the world, but now I knew why. But even more so with Bram, because his accent was clearly more formal than some of the other people I'd chatted with or heard in town.

  The more I noticed about him, the more I was dying to know about him.

  "Yes, thank you." I accepted the glass thankfully, the cool condensation of it helping to keep my blushing from extremes.

  "So I don't suppose you would like to tell me a little bit about yourself, I mean, since we’re here and all. It's still pretty early. At least it feels that way to me, anyway," I asked, finishi
ng my water in two easy gulps before setting it down. Man, this brings a whole new definition to the word 'thirsty.'

  Bram sat down a little closer than I figured he would, leaning forward and taking a swig from his own glass. "There's not much to know. But if you insist. Ah let's see here…I've lived here in Bridge of Orchy for most of my life, at least from the time I was old enough to live on my own. I used to do construction work when I was younger, but now I mainly work from home. I'm not a huge fan of…well, people."

  "I sort of guessed that," I said, immediately stopping my mouth as Bram shot me a dirty look. "Sorry, go on." I thought about how odd it was for him to use the term ‘when I was younger,’ since clearly he couldn’t be past his late twenties, but I listened, waiting.

  He took in a deep breath and sat back, folding his arms behind his head then looking into the fire. "Like I said, there's not much to know past that."

  I knew I shouldn't pry. It was something that I never really had to do honestly, since everything I ever wanted to know about a person was at the tip of the iceberg that was their mind and easily accessible to me, so with Bram not volunteering any information about himself, I was left somewhat perturbed. Is this how normal people feel? No wonder they're so damn frustrated all the time!

  But even still, I just couldn't keep my mouth shut—something I never had to worry about before. "There has to be more to it than that. Do you have a family? Where do they live? What you do from home now? What are some your hobbies? And how did you manage to land this beautiful house? How come you don’t like people? It's pretty easy, all you have to do is just answer the questions."

  Suddenly I felt ashamed for even speaking up, because Bram turned his head away from me, his knuckles white as he gripped his knees. "I didn’t realize," he began, speaking through clenched teeth, "that I was inviting you over for an interrogation."

  It stung, the way he sounded so frustrated but so disappointed at the same time. I bowed my head, feeling like an idiot. "I'm so sorry, Bram. I’m just being an airhead, I know. You don’t have to tell me anything else. I was just trying to make conversation. In fact, if you'd like, I'll just leave you alone."

  I was boiling hot in my shawl and two layers of clothing underneath, but suddenly I felt the need to keep myself under wraps.

  The silence was not so much awkward as expectant, like both of us were waiting for the other one to speak back up. To my absolute surprise, Bram was the first to say anything. "I'm sorry. I know I can be a bit…harsh."

  Biting my tongue, I merely nodded, accepting his somewhat pitiful apology. Considering that the guy pretty much just saved my life, I figured I owed it to him to be gracious about it.

  "I'm sure you dinnae mean to get stuck out there tonight, and I've been somewhat of a prick silently judging you about it since then. I'm sorry about that, too."

  That took me aback, and I raised a brow at him.. "It's okay. I was sort of an idiot for getting stuck out there like that. I don't know if I said this or not, but thank you for your help. I really don't know what I would've done without you."

  Unexpectedly, the corner of Bram's mouth quirked, and he almost smiled in response, just barely. "Probably turned into an ice lolly, honestly."

  It was cute, so very cute, and the way he pronounced every single word made my blood rush through my body even faster. How can one man be so damn gorgeous in all these little, tiny ways?

  "Yeah, it wouldn't have been pretty, I'll give you that."

  Another moment passed before Bram finally turned his body to face me, the couch shifting and groaning in protest under his muscled-mass. "Well, now you know some about me. What about you?"

  As much as I despised being put on the spot, I thought it rather easy to answer Bram. "Okay, no problem. I'm Ella, which you already know…and I'm from Brooklyn. I've lived there my entire life, which consists of roughly 24.75 years. I have two younger sisters, Desi and Colette. Desi is twenty-one and Colette is almost fifteen. All three of us live with our Mom. My dad left when I was a baby, so I never knew him. But my sisters' dad died when I started high school. I've had odd jobs here and there. My favorite thing so far has been freelance writing. It's been pretty good to me so far, but sometimes I can't be as creative with my words as I'd like. Not that it brings much money in anyway, but still. And I help out at home by helping my mom run the…psychic hotline out of our house," I said, quickly finishing at the end before an embarrassed coughing fit rose up the back of my throat. "So there you go."

  When I finally settled my eyes back on Bram, a thrill ran up and down my spine as I realized he had been watching with rapt attention the entire time I rambled on. I didn't know if this was a good sign, or if he just thought I was crazy. Usually people tend to think the latter.

  "That's a pretty fascinating life you're leading there, Ella. I don' really ken about writing, but I've always had an appreciation for the written word."

  My eyes went wide. Did he seriously just tune out the whole psychic hotline part? "Maybe you didn't understand, but I mentioned something about a psychic hotline. You know, because I'm psychic." Perhaps it was my need to completely embarrass myself, but I wanted to make sure Bram understood the most important part of me. I felt compelled to keep going, to tell him about the constant migraines I suffered from back home, and the way I could barely get around anymore because of the noise in my head.

  He snorted, throwing me off for good measure. "Yeah, I heard that part. I s'ppose you can tell the future? If so, then would you mind tellin’ me who's going to win the World Cup? I could use some information like that."

  I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or if he really was calling my bluff. "I'm not a clairvoyant. That's my Mom. She can…see into the future. Usually."

  Bram's bushy red eyebrow quirked up as he grinned. "So you're a psychic…who can't see the future?"

  Impatient, I pursed my lips and shook my head. Usually I didn't have a problem fielding any questions people had about my Mom and the whole psychic hotline thing, and believe me, there were always a ton. Lots of people knew that she was dead-on accurate about ninety-five percent of the time. But for some reason, it irritated me that Bram wasn't getting it. "You don't have to be clairvoyant to have psychic tendencies. I'm telepathic, uh that is, I read minds."

  This seemed to get his attention, and he leaned forward, tilting his head not unlike a curious animal. "Can you read my mind?"

  Should I tell him the truth? Part of me knew there was no way I was going to lie to him—I didn't want to be deceptive with Bram whatsoever. I may not have been able to read his mind but something told me he was big on honesty. "No. It's weird but…no. I can't."

  Somewhat triumphantly satisfied, Bram relaxed his posture. "That's probably a good thing."

  "It's nice," I agreed, surprised at my own admission. "You can't imagine how much it sucks to be sitting there talking to someone when all of the sudden they start thinking about whether their wife will be home late enough so they can sneak a quick visit with their girlfriend. Or when someone starts absentmindedly thinking that they should get checked after sleeping with the last guy. The best part is when I think I'm into someone, and as smart and charming as they may be, all they can think about is how good I'd be in bed. So yeah…it's a nice change of pace."

  Immediately I regretted saying anything at all, my skin flushing pink all across my chest as Bram held my gaze a little longer than necessary. It was crazy, but I wished I knew what he was thinking at that moment. If maybe he was wondering what I was like in bed, after all. The thought had already crossed my own mind about him several times.

  "Men are rubbish anyway. At least from a woman's perspective, I'd imagine," Bram quickly added, seeing the withering look on my face.

  "All people are rubbish. I've only met a few people that are decent enough for me to be near them longer than a few minutes at a time. Well, and you."

  Was it my imagination, or was Bram leaning in even closer? Despite the electricity in the air that seem
ed to crackle the moment he met my eyes again, I was frozen in place. I knew what I wanted, peace and quiet be damned.

  Everything felt hazy, like someone had flipped a switch and life was moving in slow motion. Bram's hand was slowly descending down to my knee, his chest was leaning in toward me even more, his head dipped down low and he looked down at me from under his thick set of lashes.

  I held my breath. His hand felt like it was burning hot through my pants, and when his other large hand cupped my cheek, I felt dizzy. He glanced at me, his eyes soft before I closed my own and gave in to the warm kiss.

  The emotions in my head swirled around—I had never experienced this kind of closeness with anyone without knowing exactly what they were thinking. I was able to give in completely, to lose my head so that every sense was picking up only a steady stream of Bram, Bram, Bram. Bram.

  He pulled me up against him easily, his massive arms closing around my lower back and waist, not bothering to be careful. I gasped as Bram pulled away, his mouth trailing up to my ear and back along my jawline, his light stubble rubbing against my skin. I imagined his rough face between my thighs and couldn't help but moan as I splayed my hands across his wide chest, feeling the solid muscle under his t-shirt.

  Growling against my collarbone, Bram pushed back my shawl and started undoing the metal bracket of my cape, taking it and balling it up before throwing it to the side. I bit my lip, ready to surrender to whatever was about to happen. God, the things I wanted to happen!

  His burning hot mouth was on mine again, parting my lips so that he could snake his tongue into my mouth, sending even more shivers straight to my already damp pussy. If he was that good with his tongue…I was in for a real treat.

  "I want you," I softly whispered to him, opening my eyes to get a good look at him. The silver in his eyes seemed to turn a steely gray and some kind of realization dawned over him.

  Without warning, Bram pulled back and quickly stood up, his hands behind his head as he cursed to himself.

  "What… What's wrong? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin—"