Tall, Dark and Paranormal: 10 Thrilling Tales of Sexy Alpha Bad Boys

by Opal Carew

  She rustled through the mess on one of the shelves and came up with an empty gris-gris bag.

  “Do you have those lying around all over the place?”

  She didn’t bother to answer, just held open the bag.

  “Will it work in there?”

  “Of course.”

  I guess I had to take her word for it.

  “How will I know what’s true?” I asked.

  “You just will.”

  “That is so not helpful.”

  “It’s like love—you’ll just know.”

  “I’ll know the love I’m afraid is contrived is real because I’ll just know? That makes no sense.”

  “What does?” As usual, she ignored my scowl. “If you find a charm, destroying it should break the spell.”

  “What does a charm look like?”

  “Could be a gris-gris, or maybe a fetish.”

  “Which is?”

  “A small figure—wood, bone, maybe stone, even cloth—fashioned into the shape of a person. Many cultures use totems for luck, for curses or charms—both good and evil.”

  “All right,” I said. “Find something weird, destroy it, and the magic is gone.” Although how I would destroy stone, I had no idea.

  “Or you could just leave it be.”

  “Why?”

  “Is being in love with him so bad?”

  “I need the truth, Cassandra. That’s just the way I am.”

  She nodded as if she’d known I’d say that. She probably had. “If Erzulie said the truth would be revealed, it will. I’m not sure how, or why, or when, but have faith.”

  “Faith has never been my strong suit,” I muttered, and left.

  If I’d had faith in Simon none of this would have been necessary. But if I hadn’t had it then, in him, how could I have it now in someone I barely knew and in something I didn’t trust?

  Never one to put off what I could do today, I drove past Adam’s trailer, but his car wasn’t there. I even walked out to the shack, but it was empty. So I set up a trap in the clearing where Charlie had died. Scene of the crime and all that. Besides, I didn’t have a better idea.

  I also had my doubts the snare would work. If a werewolf had human eyes, it might have a human brain, and then the beast would know better than to creep into the cage and let the door close behind it. However, I planned to be sitting in a tree with my loaded tranquilizer gun. If I had to, I’d shoot the thing, then shove it inside myself. There was more than one way to skin a cat. Although I’d never actually figured out a second way.

  I spent several days tramping through the swamp in the heat, went to town a few times for supplies. Then I endured as many nights with very little sleep, lying alone on the floor, listening to weird noises and faraway howls that should be coyotes but weren’t. I hadn’t seen Adam, and I’d kind of stopped looking for him.

  I’d been gung ho for the truth, but the more time that passed, the more time I had to think about things, the more afraid I became. What if he’d misled me about something important? Something I wouldn’t be able to forgive.

  What if Luc had cast a spell over me, and what I felt for both of them was a lie? I didn’t want it to be a lie. Caring for Adam and his son was the first thing that had felt right in a long, long time.

  I considered Cassandra’s suggestion that I just let everything be. It wasn’t a bad suggestion. However, what if there wasn’t a spell? What if I truly loved Adam and he didn’t love me?

  I considered all the questions that had no answers as I took a sponge bath in the tributary in front of the mansion. I never had managed to rent another hotel room. I fell asleep eating a sandwich on my sleeping bag. I must have been near meltdown, because I didn’t wake up until sometime after sunset and only then because I sensed I wasn’t alone.

  My heart kicked up a notch, but before I could fully panic, I saw someone silhouetted I front of the window. I’d know that shape anywhere.

  “Adam.”

  He didn’t answer, just crossed the room and lowered himself onto the sleeping bag. Hell, let’s be honest, he lowered himself onto me.

  The only thing adorning his upper body was his bracelet. I liked him best that way. His khakis were soft, his body already hard. Despite the clothes, we fit together just right. Pressure, friction, heat. What more could a girl ask for?

  Truth.

  In that moment, I understood that I couldn’t go on without knowing it. Where was that petal?

  I kept one hand on his shoulder while the other crept around like Thing from The Addams Family. I was distracted by Adam’s lips crushing mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I wore loose shorts and his fingers skimmed my thigh, drifted higher, slipped beneath. His thumb stroked in a rhythm to match his tongue, and I forgot about the gris-gris bag.

  After my makeshift bath, the high temperature had made me opt for a thin light green camisole. I hadn’t even considered a bra. So when his lips closed around my nipple, the moist heat encircled me as if there weren’t anything between us but air. Not long after, there wasn’t.

  He hadn’t spoken, had barely looked at me, and I needed him to, so I touched his face. His eyes met mine at the very first thrust. My free hand clenched, as did my body, and my fingers brushed the gris-gris.

  I gathered the small bag into my palm, and a breeze swirled through the room. Scented with cinnamon, it whispered indecipherable words but left behind a feeling of certainty.

  Whatever else might be a lie, this was the truth.

  Chapter 34

  My eyes snapped open. How long had I been asleep?

  I lay on my sleeping bag, alone—nothing new there. What was new was the crescent moon centered in the window, a bright silver slash against an indigo sky.

  Showtime.

  I’d rather Adam were with me, wouldn’t mind having him around while I spent the rest of the night in a tree with my dart gun. But he hadn’t offered and I hadn’t asked.

  In fact, neither one of us had said a word. He’d behaved as if he were drawn to me even though it was wrong, stupid, destructive. He’d behaved like a man who couldn’t help himself, and that wasn’t love. But it was something.

  I dug out some jeans and a dark T-shirt. As an afterthought I tucked both gris-gris in my pocket. Alligators I didn’t need, and one never could tell when the truth might come in handy.

  The dart gun was loaded, but I put some extra darts into my backpack, along with a bottle of water and some cookies. I could be out there all night. Last, I opened the cooler I’d bought in town yesterday and withdrew a long white paper-wrapped package from the ice.

  The trek to the clearing was uneventful. Though it would be too much to hope for that the loup-garou was poised to step into my trap, nevertheless, I approached quietly, just in case. However, when I pushed through the tall grass, the only thing I saw was an empty cage.

  Not that it was easy to see it, if I do say so myself. I’d positioned the apparatus, large enough to hold five grown men, beneath a particularly weepy-looking cypress tree. After I rearranged the moss and the ground cover, the metal was almost impossible to distinguish by the simple light of a crescent moon.

  I tossed the contents of my white paper package inside. “Fresh steak ought to entice you.”

  Wolves preferred live prey, but they weren’t against a free meal when they could find one. Me, I couldn’t stomach tying up a live creature to await a bloody death. Prime rib would have to do.

  Over the past few days I’d not only readied the cage, the darts, the gun, I’d also readied a second perfect cypress nearby. Tall, with acres of moss, I’d placed a portable tree stand about twenty feet off the ground.

  I tied my rifle to the rope I’d strung over a branch. Using the heavy-duty nails I’d pounded into the tree, I climbed to the flat metal stand. After allowing my gaze to wander over the area, I hoisted my gun upward by way of the rope pulley, secured the safety strap around my waist—more fatal hunting accidents occur when hunters tumble out of their tree
s because they fall asleep, have a heart attack, or are just plain stupid than when they are actually shot—and settled in to wait.

  The sounds of the swamp surrounded me. I’d thought the place loud when I was inside the mansion? I hadn’t met loud yet.

  Birds, insects, alligators, nutrias, out there somewhere I could have sworn I heard a pig squeal. A farm animal gone wild? Or were there wild boars in the depths? I probably shouldn’t have been wandering around as much as I had been without a gun.

  My gaze was caught by shifting swamp grass beneath an ebbing moon. Not the wind. Something was coming.

  Slowly I raised the gun. I don’t know what I expected, but when the wolf stepped from the swamp into the clearing, lifting his nose and sniffing, I had to bite my lip to keep from making a sound.

  His fur shone in the sliver of moonlight, glinting black, then blue, then black again. I’d been right to gauge the dosage for an Alaskan timber wolf. This thing might even be larger than that.

  The animal paid no attention to the steak. Instead he trotted around and around the open area as if he knew something was there but couldn’t find it.

  I wasn’t surprised; I didn’t even consider it magic to have the wolf from my dream materialize. I’d seen a black tail. I knew what a wolf looked like. Put one and one together and I got two, even in my sleep.

  But how was I supposed to determine if this was a real wolf or a werewolf?

  Though the form may be that of a wolf, a werewolf always retains its human eyes.

  I squinted against the night, against the distance, as the wolf circled away from me again, but I couldn’t see his eyes, let alone determine if they were human.

  Suddenly he stopped, stiffened, and stared right at me. I hadn’t made a movement, not a sound. What had caused him to sense I was there? Wolves did not peer into trees for their prey.

  I lifted the gun to my shoulder. He didn’t care. He charged across the clearing as if he planned to climb up the trunk, snarling as if he would tear me apart once he got there. Why wasn’t he afraid of the rifle? He couldn’t know that I didn’t have silver bullets. Right now that seemed like a big mistake.

  I forced myself to remain steady, to be patient, to aim. I didn’t think a wolf could clamber this high, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Right before I squeezed the trigger, I saw his eyes, and I had no qualms about shooting. I couldn’t determine a color, but I did see the whites.

  Real wolves didn’t have any.

  The dart struck him in the chest. He yelped, leaped. My heart did, too. The thing had a damn nice vertical extension. If he hadn’t been shot, he might have cleared the lowest branch of my tree, about a yard below my feet. Not that he could have done much damage hanging there, but the ability startled me. What else could he do?

  The wolf fell to the earth, staggered, toppled, and went still. The silence following so much sound seemed deafening. I needed to drag the beast into the cage, then call Frank. Lucky for me, the animal had dropped over right in front of the enclosure. I wasn’t sure how far I’d be able to move deadweight that approximated my own.

  Once on the ground, I wasted no time. Though I didn’t want to, I leaned my weapon against the tree. I couldn’t do much with one hand.

  The grass was damp, so when I tugged on his rear legs, the beast slid. After much grunting and groaning, I had him in the cage. Straightening, I allowed myself to smile. I’d done it.

  Like a dog dreaming of a rabbit the wolf’s legs twitched, and my smile froze. He lay between me and the door. I leaped over his inert body, skidding on the grass and falling on my ass. Stunned, I didn’t immediately move. Until I heard a low, rumbling growl.

  I rolled onto my feet in a single movement, which was pretty darned athletic if I do say so myself. Terror will do that to a woman. I dived for the open door as the wolf slowly sat up, shaking his head as if he were coming out of deep water. The dart hadn’t worked very well. Of course it had been fashioned for a 120-pound animal. This one weighed quite a bit more than that. I guess I should count myself lucky he’d fallen over at all.

  The door clanged and I turned the key, then yanked it out of the lock and backpedaled as quickly as I could. Slipping again, I fell to my knees. Could I be any more of a klutz?

  I’d specifically requested a lock and key on the cage. A wolf couldn’t undo a catch, but a person could. And if this animal was what I thought it was, he’d have opposable thumbs by morning, if not before.

  A body slammed into the bars. Snarling and slavering commenced. Still on my hands and knees, I looked up and my whole world shifted.

  The wolf was exactly like the one in my dream. Huge and black, he also possessed the eyes of Adam Ruelle.

  Chapter 35

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

  I couldn’t stop muttering, couldn’t stop staring. How could this be? I’d touched Adam with silver. He hadn’t minded.

  The thing in the cage appeared mad, throwing his body against the metal, trying to chew a way out. Blood marred the white spittle dripping from his snout. Maybe the wolf was rabid after all.

  “That’s not a wolf,” I whispered.

  I shoved the key into my pocket, and my fingertips brushed the gris-gris. The animal howled as if in pain and began to change. The transformation was something from a horror film; at first my mind refused to accept what my eyes couldn’t help but see.

  The sleek, dark fur receded, becoming shorter and shorter as if it were being sucked through the skin. Paws became feet at the ends of legs and hands at the ends of arms. The claws evaporated the same way the fur had. The neck twisted; the spine lengthened; the animal moaned. Going from quadrapedal to bipedal couldn’t feel good.

  His snout shortened, dividing into nose and mouth as the canine teeth shrank. The tail disappeared with a thick, wet thunk. The eyes remained the same. Inside the cage stood a naked Adam Ruelle.

  He didn’t appear upset to be revealed a monster. Didn’t seem to care he was in his altogether for the world to see. In fact, he seemed to like it, or maybe, if the size of his erection was any indication, he liked me.

  What he didn’t like was the cage. He slammed both hands against the bars and growled, “Let me out.”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t speak.

  “Goddammit, bitch, set me free!”

  That didn’t sound like Adam. Of course, what did I know? I’d believed him when he said he wasn’t the loup-garou.

  He tilted his head to stare at the crescent moon. “How did you do it?”

  “D-do what?”

  “Make me shift.”

  Staring into his eyes, I was reminded of Lazarus—cold-blooded and empty of emotion. This man would kill without flinching and forget about it before the blood dried on the ground.

  The Adam I knew wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but he wasn’t evil. Or maybe I’d just been too busy getting my brains screwed out to notice.

  My hand ached from clutching the gris-gris. I glanced down, opened my fingers, and understood. I’d been unable to see the truth until magic cleared my eyes.

  “I run as a wolf under the crescent moon. I have no choice.”

  I lifted my gaze. “The curse.”

  “Oui. But I become a man when I choose, or when the sun comes.” He swept a hand down his body. “This was not my choice.”

  I brushed my thumb along the gris-gris. I had asked for the truth.

  “Why you lock me up like this?” he asked. “You know I come to you in the night. I like to hear you scream when I fuck you. You didn’t have to put me in a cage.”

  I’d been sleeping with a monster. I’d believed myself in love with him, had begun to imagine a life together. I was a fool.

  “Let me go, and I’ll do you right here.”

  He took himself in his hand and pumped. His moan was more of a growl and marched along my skin like biting red ants.

  “I’ve been imagining such things, Diana. You, me, this way and that. You ever want to mate with a beast?”

&n
bsp; My eyes widened. I couldn’t speak. Adam seemed like a completely different man. Was he possessed by Satan under the crescent moon? Apparently.

  “I’ll shift again. It’ll be doggie style like you never had before. And if you make me howl, I won’t even kill you tonight.”

  I took a step back and he smiled. Were his teeth growing longer along with his—?

  I yanked my gaze away, but not before he saw my unease and smirked.

  “With the flower I marked you as mine.”

  Adam had taken the fire irises away from me, thrown them into the swamp, told me not to pick them again. Was he schizophrenic? That would make a certain kind of sense. I’d read all of Simon’s research into lycanthropy. Many psychiatrists and other physicians believed the historical reports of werewolves stemmed from the behavior of the insane. Back then mental illness was labeled possession.

  I stared at Adam, locked in a cage. I could understand the theory.

  “I watched you whenever I could. The others knew you were mine to keep or kill.”

  I guess I hadn’t been crazy when I’d heard more than one wolf in the swamp, seen slinky shadows in town. History often repeated itself, and one of its great lessons is that evil loves to beget evil.

  “I wanted to be inside you that first night,” he continued, “but the crescent moon called. I had to make do with a few touches.”

  No wonder I’d had such an erotic dream at the hotel on Bourbon Street. My skin went clammy at that memory and several others.

  “Set me free. I’ll get out sooner or later. But if it’s later, you’ll pay. I will do things you never imagined. I will keep you alive forever. You will beg to die, Diana, and I will never let you go.”

  I wasn’t stupid. If I let him out now, obsession or no, he’d kill me.

  I rubbed my thumb over the outline of the key in my pocket. If I had my way, he would never see freedom again.

  “I have to get back to the boy,” he whispered. “He expects me come morning.”

  Black dots danced in front of my eyes. Luc. How could I have forgotten?