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

by Opal Carew

  Cassandra decided to take a trip to Haiti, courtesy of the Jager-Sucher society.

  “Mandenauer wants me to discover more about voodoo, zombies, and this goddess-of-the-moon question. I’m game.”

  She’d hired a local to run her store and take care of Lazarus when I refused to. Cassandra and I were friends, but I drew the line at snake-sitting.

  “I think we’ve proved I’m not a moon goddess,” I said.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. It won’t hurt to look into things a little more. You want Henri cured, don’t you?”

  “For all I care, Henri can burn in hell.”

  “He probably will. But if we can make certain Adam and Luc don’t follow him there—”

  “I’ll do anything,” I said.

  “That’s what I thought. I made a few calls after you traveled to Ife and spoke to Erzulie.”

  “Do not tell me I’m a lost priestess of the voodoo nation. I’m a cryptozoologist from Boston. Period.”

  Cassandra’s shoulders shifted, as if something were crawling down her neck. “I think I sent you to Ife.”

  “What?”

  “I performed the ceremony. The magic came from me.” Cassandra appeared sheepish. “I might be more powerful than I thought.”

  “That’s good news, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t tell Mandenauer. He gets weird when people talk about power.”

  I couldn’t imagine why.

  “What’s next for you?’ Cassandra asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  She tilted her head. “Love, marriage, mommyhood. I see it in the cards.”

  “You don’t read cards.”

  She set her hand over mine. “Your future is with them.”

  “I haven’t seen Adam or Luc since Henri went away.”

  Three days ago. I’d moped around the mansion waiting. Pathetic but true. I’d have to get a job soon, considering Frank hadn’t paid me. Since his butt was in jail, courtesy of me, I didn’t think he was going to.

  Before Mandenauer had left he’d told Detective Sullivan there’d been one rabid wolf in the swamp and he had killed it. Case closed. I had no reason to hang around.

  “Adam loves you,” Cassandra said.

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “He put his son in your protection. There’s no greater love than that.”

  “Henri found a gris-gris under Luc’s pillow.”

  “I guess that’s the love charm you were so worried about. You want me to give you one to counteract the magic?”

  “He burned it.”

  She peered into my face. “And you still love them both, don’t you?”

  “Desperately.”

  I’d realized sometime over the past few nights I’d slept alone that I’d fallen for Adam before I’d even met Luc. The gris-gris was irrelevant even if it weren’t dust.

  “Maybe you need to say good-bye to your first love before you move on to the last one.”

  At my confused expression, she continued. “Simon. You’ve never really put him to rest.”

  “And how do you suggest I do that? Another gris-gris?”

  She squeezed my hand. “Only you can say good-bye to him, Diana.”

  I wasn’t sure how I’d say good-bye to a dead man, but I certainly couldn’t do it long-distance.

  I packed my things and went to Chicago, where I’d buried Simon four years ago. The place no longer felt like home. I’m not sure it ever had.

  The cemetery was peaceful, deserted. No one would see me talking to a headstone.

  “You were right, Simon. There’s more in this world than anyone could imagine.”

  I sat on the grave and ran my hand over the grass. “I had to break my vow, and I’m sorry. I couldn’t clear your name. I’d only hurt more people. I figured you’d understand.”

  Absently I pulled out the gris-gris that contained the fire iris petal. A little truth wouldn’t be so bad. Where was Simon now? Had he truly come to me in the swamp? Was there any way of getting him back? Did I want to?

  When I touched the sack, the tie fell off, and when I peered inside, I discovered the petal had disintegrated into dust. The wind swirled the particles away.

  I guess some truths are better left unknown.

  “I still miss you,” I said. “I probably always will, but I have to say good-bye.”

  The breeze, warm despite the autumn chill off Lake Michigan, stirred my hair. I wanted to smell Simon’s aftershave, hear his voice, feel his love, know that he’d heard me. I closed my eyes and wished for him, but he was as gone as the wind.

  When I opened my eyes, Adam was there. Talk about magic.

  “You scared me to death, cher. I thought you’d left for good.”

  How had he found me?

  “Cassandra,” I said as I got to my feet.

  He shrugged, then indicated Simon’s grave with a tilt of his head. “You were saying good-bye.”

  “I can’t live in the past anymore.”

  “Me, neither.”

  Hope lit my heart and probably my face, because he held up his hand. “There’s something I have to tell you. Luc and Sadie did a love spell.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  I nodded.

  “I was going to destroy it, but Luc can’t find the gris-gris.”

  “Henri burned it. One of his insane little mind games.”

  “But I still feel the same way.”

  “Which is?”

  “Crazy mad in love with you.”

  “Ditto,” I said. “And your little boy, too.”

  Adam gave me a rare smile. “I never thought I’d love anyone but my son.”

  “I never thought I’d love again.”

  “I guess we were both wrong.” He tugged on my hair. “What you think about fixing up the mansion?”

  “I thought you hated the place.”

  “Kind of grew on me. Lots of good memories there now.”

  My face heated at some of them.

  “I can’t promise a certain future.”

  I lowered my gaze to Simon’s headstone. ‘Who can?”

  After several moments of silence, Adam said, “Mandenauer offered us jobs.”

  “Us?”

  He nodded. ‘We’d be perfect.”

  “What would we have to do?”

  “Same thing we’ve been doing.”

  I wiggled my brows. “He’s going to pay us for that?”

  “If only. He wants you to chase down rumors of paranormal beasts. He wants me to kill werewolves.”

  “That sounds dangerous.”

  “I’ve been doing it for years, cher.”

  “What about Luc? We can’t both traipse off, tra-la-la.”

  His lips curved. “You’re thinkin’ like a mother already.”

  I was. When had that happened?

  “You sure you want a ready-made family?” he asked.

  “I’m sure I want you and Luc.”

  “There’ll be no more children.”

  “I’ll be lucky if I can handle the one we have.”

  “You’ll do fine,” he said. “The boy was crazy about you from day one. That’s why he did the love spell. Couldn’t bear to lose you. I have to say I understand why, but he’s still grounded.”

  I laughed at the notion of being grounded for performing a voodoo love spell. My life certainly had taken a turn for the strange.

  “I figure if we accept Mandenauer’s offer we can take turns bein’ away from home.”

  “Home,” I murmured. “That sounds nice.”

  Adam reached into his pocket. For an instant I thought he’d brought another belly chain. I still wore the one he’d given me. I planned never to take it off.

  “Partners?” He held out his hand.

  In his palm lay a circlet of interlinked silver fleurs-de-lis with a moonstone center. The ring was so beautiful, I ached to put it on. But not yet. “When you say partners …?”

  “I’ll understand if you don’t
want to marry me. Who knows when I might change under the crescent moon?”

  “I’d still love you, even then.”

  He just shook his head.

  “The only way I’ll do this is if we’re married. I adopt Luc. I’ll protect him if you can’t. Once that’s settled, we take the jobs, help save the world. Together, we’ll face whatever comes.”

  He hesitated so long, I feared he’d take back the offer and the ring. At last he slipped the silver circlet onto my finger, sealing the deal without saying a word.

  There was one thing that still bugged me.

  “Did you really believe everything that was between us was the result of magic?”

  “I still believe that.” Reaching out, he touched my cheek. “Don’t it feel like magic to you, cher?”

  I couldn’t speak, could only nod, as he took my hand, then led me away from my past and into a bright new future.

  About the Author:

  Lori Handeland sold her first novel in 1993. Since then she has written many novels, novellas and short stories in several genres—historical, contemporary, series, paranormal romance, urban fantasy and historical fantasy—for such publishers as Dorchester, Kensington, Harlequin, St. Martin’s, HarperCollins, Simon and Schuster and Penguin.

  She has been nominated five times for the RITA Award from Romance Writers of America, winning twice, for Best Paranormal and Best Long Series Contemporary. She is a Waldenbooks, Bookscan, USA Today and New York Times best-selling author.

  As well as writing The Nightcreature Novels, The Phoenix Chronicles, The Shakespeare Undead series, The Luchetti Brothers and several stand alone novels, Lori also writes gritty, sensual western historical romance under the name Lori Austin.

  Lori lives in Southern Wisconsin with her husband enjoying occasional visits from her grown sons.

  She can be reached through her website at www.lorihandeland.com or www.loriaustin.net.

  For a list of Nightcreature Novels, please go to:

  http://www.lorihandeland.com/night_creature.php

  Forever Freed

  by

  Laura Kaye

  Forever Freed Copyright SECOND EDITION June 2013 by Laura Kaye

  FIRST EDITION May 2011

  FOREVER FREED © Laura Kaye.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  No part or whole of the book may be used, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work via electronic or mechanical means is a violation of international copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment.

  Terms for the eBook: The ebook edition is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share the ebook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Please do not participate in piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and/or are used fictitiously and are solely the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to persons living or dead, places, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover Art and Interior Design by The Killion Group

  DEDICATION

  To my family, for helping me make my dream come true

  And for everyone who has already loved Lucien, Sam, and Ollie

  Chapter One

  The sleek silver Beemer swerved roughly to the curb in front of my driveway, cutting me off as I pulled out. The bike fishtailed underneath me as its tires fought to grab the concrete.

  “What the hell?” My boot heel caught the kickstand. I dismounted as I tore off the glossy black helmet. I hadn’t eaten in over a month. I was in no mood.

  The passenger window eased down. “Lucien Demarco,” a deep voice called. “Thought that was you. This must be fate.”

  “Langston?” I peered in the window and found his trademark grin. He stuck his hand out and we shook across the empty passenger seat. I leaned against the door frame, helmet in hand. “Holy shit. Good to see you. Been a while.”

  “What? Ten, twenty years?” “That’s about right.”

  Langston’s pale yellow eyes glowed against the warm brown of his skin. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, but was more like seventy-five. “Look, man,” he said, “I gotta be somewhere five minutes ago. Here”—he thrust a business card into my hand—”I’m thinking you might want to come see me.”

  The embossed lettering read:

  LANGSTON BROWN

  DIRECTOR

  DETROIT MEDICAL CENTER BLOOD BANK

  My eyes snapped back to his, which were full of the same humor I’d started tasting. “Well, that’s…interesting.”

  “Tell me about it. I work again tomorrow. Come see me in the evening, around seven?”

  Distracted by the realization of what he was offering—a much-needed alternative—I murmured, “Yeah. Okay.”

  “All right, then. I’m outtie.” He tapped his hand twice against the center console. I saluted him with his business card and stepped back up on the sidewalk as he pulled away from the curb.

  I scrubbed my hand through the length of my brown hair, still trying to wrap my brain around the coincidence of Langston’s offer just as I was heading out to hunt. Filled with an unusual hopefulness, I walked the Harley back into the garage. I was used to going hungry. What was one more day?

  The next evening, energized by my anticipation of guilt-free sustenance, I approached the hospital just as the spring sun dipped below the city’s skyline.

  Out of nowhere, feelings of amusement and awed curiosity filled my chest with intense, comforting warmth. I had learned to control my empathic ability and could generally tune out others’ emotions if I concentrated, but there was always a low buzz of perception in the back of my mind, one that flared when the emotions had to do with me. A defense mechanism, of sorts. I turned and scanned the plaza.

  A little girl’s blatant stare caught and held my gaze. “Hi,” she said with a smile. She waved her tiny hand. The evening breeze blew long strands of gold across her face.

  She was so focused on me she stumbled, which only brightened her smile. She continued to grin and look at me over her shoulder as an elderly black woman drew her toward the entrance and through the automatic doors to the lobby. Then she was gone.

  I was stunned.

  Humans generally didn’t interact with me unless I wanted them to.

  Yet, the girl saw me. Not only that, she met my eyes and held them. I smelled no fear from her at all, just that unbelievable curiosity and amusement, and an inexplicable touch of affection.

  Her unusual attention made me feel present in the world, for once. The goodness of her emotions felt warm, tasted sweet.

  I craved more. I wanted her to see me again. Which was why I needed to get the hell out of there.

  I flipped open my cell phone and made a call, then left a message: “Hey, Langston. Sorry. Tonight’s not good after all. Can we do this in the next day or two? Let me know.”

  My hunger too greatly tested my control, my judgment. I couldn’t risk staying. So I retreated through Detroit’s blighted streets back to my hulking, dilapidated manse on Edmund Place. The crumbling dark red sandstone, rusted ironwork, and numerous boarded windows were more than good enough for me.

  The house’s poor condition brought me no special attention given the surroundings. Once posh, the Brush Park neighborhood had decayed with the rest of the city during the twentieth century. Abandoned mansions stood guard over debris-filled vacant lots. Just across the street a Gothic-style church sat empty—even God had forsaken this place.

  I entered my dark parlor, knelt down before the hearth and built a fire. Starvation clawed at my gut. The girl’s unprecedented observation na
gged at my mind. I needed a distraction.

  Pulling a chair closer to the radiating heat of the fire, I bent and flipped the latches on the antique case. Raising the lid revealed one of the few mementos I permitted myself from my human life. The neck of the reddish-brown instrument filled my hand and felt like the only home I’d ever known. Nothing helped fill my endless time like my violin.

  The instrument smelled of pine rosin, reminding me of idyllic days in Italy. Whenever I played, my human memories echoed as loud in my head as the notes sounded in the room.

  Any pain those memories brought…well, it was deserved.

  Soon, rich yearning tones filled the room. The melancholy of the anniversary hung over me still, and my dire need for sustenance didn’t help. It didn’t take long, therefore, before the image of the smiling blonde girl transformed in my mind’s eye into another girl, with olive skin and chocolate ringlets.

  A girl who had once been my whole life. A daughter whom I had failed.

  ***

  Two days later, I was back again to see Langston, finding myself in more urgent need of his assistance.

  From the empty waiting room of the blood bank, I sensed him immediately. He had an expectant smile on his face when he came around from the back to the reception counter. “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. How the hell are you this fine evening?”

  “Okay, Langston.” I surveyed the laboratory space behind him. “Interesting work you’re doing here.”

  “You have no idea. Come on back through that door,” he said as a buzzer sounded. I walked through, and he extended his hand, which I shook as the door clicked behind me. “So, what have you been up to all these years?” He led me into the more private space in the back.