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

by Opal Carew

  Later, Rebecca managed to convince everyone to sit down to a game of Trivial Pursuit, but we tied since we had all lived through the periods covered by the game’s questions and had generally infallible memories.

  As the night fell, the couples retired to their own activities. I sat on the couch and gazed into the dying fire. The elegant architecture Griffin had designed and built took on an ethereal quality as the light danced around the circular space of the great room.

  “You wanna do something?” Catherine was the only one who remained with me.

  “No. Not really.”

  “Are you going for a walk?”

  “Yeah.” I looked at her.

  She gazed at me kindly. “Do you want company?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She nodded, then leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “Night, Lucien.” She pushed herself up and walked toward the hall steps.

  “Good night, Catherine.”

  I gathered my shoes and stepped out the back door. The night air was cool, unusually so for July. I took a cleansing breath and walked off into the woods. I sat in the grass in front of Lena’s grave all night, talking to her and Isabetta and telling them stories. I apologized for…everything and begged their forgiveness—and their permission.

  When the first light filtered down through the trees, I knew someone would come check on me. But I was shocked by who it was.

  “You mind?” William hovered over me. He was tall and well-muscled; his twenty-one-year-old face was boyish, but he had a man’s demeanor and self-assurance. His dark blond hair hung behind his head in a ponytail.

  “No.” I looked forward again and my eyes traced the engraved letters on Lena’s headstone.

  CHERISHED WIFE, LOVING MOTHER

  William didn’t say anything as he sat. The palpable awkwardness came from decades of animosity, jealousy, and competition over my past relationship with Catherine, whom he had loved before his wife Anna came into his life. He studied the headstone of his human wife Maggie, who had died in the Indian attack.

  Finally, he huffed out a breath. “We have a lot in common, Lucien.” He turned back to me, his ice blue eyes piercing and, at that moment, full of wisdom.

  I couldn’t read him; he had perfected blocking Catherine and me after centuries of living with her. I pulled my knees up and rested my arms on top of them, then waited.

  “I have been angry for most of the more than two hundred years I have been on this earth. When I was alive, I was angry my father didn’t have enough land to provide for all his sons, angry I was forced out into this wilderness. When I held Maggie as she died, I begged her to stay with me, angry even as she took her last breaths. I felt relieved as my own injuries began to pull me under. When I regained consciousness after being changed, I was out of my mind that I had been denied my death and my reunion with Maggie. But then there was Catherine. She helped ease the pain. But she never loved me, not really. I know she cares about me. But when she couldn’t return my love, when she sought out others, I was bitter. Then you came…Her feelings for you hurt so bad—”

  He paused and his expression made me keep my mouth shut.

  “My jealousy led me to one of the greatest mistakes of my life.” Our gazes met. I remembered the despair in William’s eyes the day we realized he’d created his own neophytes, of whom one died in transition and the other later became his wife. “But Lucien, sometimes horrible mistakes can lead you right where you needed to be, can bring a kind of clarity to your life. I was wrong to take Anna’s humanity, and I try to make up for it every single day. Somehow, though, she has managed to not only forgive me, but to love me, despite the man I’ve been. She healed me.”

  He paused thoughtfully.

  “Sometimes something good can come from something bad.”

  He pulled a leather-covered flask from his coat pocket and turned it around in his hands several times. His voice was low and soft. “We both lost our wives in horrific ways. We’ve both been miserable as a result. We’ve both been embraced by this family despite our issues and despite being royal pains in the ass. We have both loved Catherine.” He looked at me meaningfully. “And we have both been given second chances.”

  The others had filled him in.

  “So”—he popped the funnel top off the flask and held it up—”let’s drink to all we have lost.” He tilted his head back as he drank, then passed the flask to me.

  I hesitated and looked at him, then put the flask to my lips and took a swig. Deer blood. I handed it back to him.

  “But let’s also drink to all we could have.” This time he took a longer draw from the flask before passing it to me.

  I looked back to Lena’s headstone.

  “Would she want you to be happy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then be happy.”

  I tilted the flask to my lips and drained it, then handed it back to him. “You know, that might be the most you’ve said to me at one time in over a hundred years.”

  He smirked. “Shut up, smart-ass.”

  I laughed, releasing the tension I’d built up overnight as I sat and debated myself. I must have looked ridiculous, because he joined me.

  “Come on. The women are all wringing their hands about what you’re doing out here all this time.” He stood up. “You know, because you’re so fragile.”

  I sprang up next to him. “Yeah. And you’re an angry fuck.” He threw a punch, but I was too fast for him, as I had always been. I laughed at him from where I stood outside the limestone wall of the cemetery.

  He smiled with resignation and walked over to me.

  “Thank you, William. What you said means a lot. And it helped.”

  “Aw, man, we’re not braiding each other’s hair now. Come on.”

  After we returned to the house, I remembered Samantha had days off on Monday and Tuesday. I decided to stay through the weekend and return to the city on Sunday night. It was nice being here with my family again.

  But I worried Samantha might wonder what happened to me. I called a Detroit florist and ordered a big bouquet of flowers—sunflowers seemed most fitting—and dictated a note telling her I had to leave town unexpectedly to see my family but wanted to spend Monday with her if she was free.

  Thunderstorms darkened the summer sky all Sunday afternoon. Griffin built another fire in the great room. I sprawled out on the rug in front of it, enjoying my family’s company for a few last minutes before I had to leave. I gazed into the flickering flames and allowed myself to relax.

  Griffin was right; it was too soon to pack too many expectations into this. Yet the possibilities now seemed endless, promising. The possibility of being loved. The possibility of giving love. Even if it was fleeting, it could be worth it.

  William’s words came back to me. Second chance.

  My thinking suddenly crystalized. I loved Samantha and Olivia Sutton. I needed them in my life. I had to try to be good enough for them and make this work. For the first time in more than a century, I allowed myself to have someone to love, something to hope for. I could swear, in the hollow of my chest, my heart started beating again.

  Lying there on the great-room floor at Orchard Hill, I came back to life.

  Chapter Nine

  With a thrilling new resolve, I raced back to Detroit late Sunday night, eager to arrive with enough time to prepare for my day with Samantha. I had a surprise to plan and could barely contain myself until I could get in front of a computer to make the arrangements. Had the idea come to me before I left Orchard Hill, I could have taken care of it there. But it was only in the steady lull of driving my mind relaxed enough to generate the idea. By then I was too far from Ithaca to turn around.

  I was so grateful to my family for their support. Even Jed had been willing to offer a “good luck” as we all said our good-byes.

  This departure from Orchard Hill was different for me from every other. This time, I knew I would return again. At long last, I could let go of the bel
ief that any happiness I experienced betrayed Lena’s and Isabetta’s lives and deaths. I knew I could, and would, allow myself the comfort of my family’s company.

  More importantly, this time I left in one piece, not as the shattered man I’d been so much of my existence. I’d let Samantha and Ollie past my mind and into my heart, and they were already healing me.

  I hadn’t been to the Edmund Place house in a while. It felt still, empty. First thing, I parked myself in front of the computer and waited impatiently as it booted up. When the Internet was new, I found it a novelty and lost countless hours surfing it. Not that the time mattered to me. In truth, the Internet was a real boon—there was always something to read, watch, or listen to. And it had allowed me to expand my horizons in the world of music exponentially. I downloaded so much music, my album and CD collections hardly grew at all anymore.

  Finally, my fingers moved over the keyboard. I found what I was looking for, made the arrangements, and pulled out the credit card of William Griffin to complete the transaction. Having just seen William and Griffin, a smile crossed my face. Multiple identities were necessary when you outlived the lifespan of a normal human.

  Lucien Demarco officially existed, but as Lucien Demarco IV. My contacts in this city had long ago helped me create and paper an array of aliases. The multiple properties I owned provided residences for each of them.

  Satisfied, I leaned back in the reclining desk chair and ran my hands through my hair, then rested them locked together on top of my head. All of a sudden, I sat forward and worked my fingers over the keyboard again. I typed Samantha’s name into the search engine.

  The hits were endless, and I realized I didn’t know Samantha’s middle name or initial to help winnow it down. I clicked on one promising link that led to a Detroit News story listing a Samantha Sutton as the contact for the annual Christmas toy drive at the Detroit Medical Center. Thoughtful and generous too. I’m not surprised.

  Other links were less helpful. I clicked through several pages and was almost ready to quit when another link caught my eye. This one also led to a newspaper website, this time to the Ann Arbor News. A kindly woman’s face resembling Samantha’s appeared in a photograph at the top of the page.

  EVELYN MARIE SUTTON, Ann Arbor, MI

  Died July 17, 2006, in Ann Arbor. She was born May 1, 1960, the daughter of James and Olivia Edwards. She was a lifelong resident of Ann Arbor and attended Ann Arbor Public Schools and University of Michigan, graduating in 1981. Evelyn was an avid Michigan football fan and rarely missed attending a home game. She was a social studies teacher in the Ann Arbor Public School System for twenty-one years. Evelyn was also an active member of the Junior League of Ann Arbor. Her parents and one sister predeceased her. She is survived by her daughter, Samantha J. Sutton, and her granddaughter, Olivia E. Sutton. Memorial services will be held…

  I reclined in my chair. How hard it must have been to lose such an important relationship. I wanted to wrap my arms around Samantha, to shield her from the pain—pain I was relieved to remember she hadn’t seemed to feel in the time since I’d known her. I was also surprised to see no mention of Joe and wondered if they’d been separated.

  Reading the obituary made me realize just how little I knew about Samantha. I hoped she would give me the opportunity to correct that.

  One final question had me at the keyboard again. A quick check on the weather reconfirmed the cloudy forecast. Full of anticipation, I closed out of the browser, shut down the computer, and went upstairs.

  The hot water of the shower felt good against my cooling skin. I was walking a fine line: I’d decided not to hunt in New York, because I didn’t want my skin overheated from the fresh infusion of blood when I saw Samantha. But I also had to keep myself sated enough to ensure I had no difficulties holding the bloodlust at bay.

  I made a cursory effort at towel drying, but was still wet enough when I pulled the gray Henley over my head that damp spots formed across my back and chest. I didn’t care. I threw on a pair of khaki pants, shoved my feet in my leather boots, and pulled a comb through my hair. I grabbed a couple pieces of fresh clothing to take over to the Frederick house, then headed out to the car.

  I took the Z, because Samantha liked it.

  As I moved through the new house putting things away, it felt the most like a home of any place I had renovated over the years. I didn’t have to think on that much to understand why.

  By eight o’clock I was fidgety. It was too early to call on Samantha. But there was something I could do to pass the time. I pulled the phone book from a kitchen drawer and flipped open to the blue municipal government listings. A receptionist at the Department of Public Works answered, and I reported the busted street light Samantha had pointed out the previous week. Samantha was right, this section of the city was safer than some, but not so safe that dark streets were wise. I knew from personal experience just how unsafe the city was.

  For forty years, I’d worked in Laumet’s world and admittedly contributed to some of the danger in the city. And in the twenty years since I’d earned my freedom, circumstances reminded me Laumet continued to operate in much the same way he always had. While Laumet, true to his word, had left me to my own life, on two instances he felt compelled to interfere. Both were of my own making, as it turned out.

  I should have put more thought into it, really. Laumet employed bad people to do bad things. And as a general rule, if I hunted humans, I hunted the bad ones usually while they planned or committed bad acts. I could perceive many things about my victims, but their relationships were not always among them.

  Twice, just two years after I’d separated from Laumet and about seven years after that, I killed bad ones who turned out to be loyal, and important, to Laumet. He was less than pleased.

  The first time wasn’t as problematic. I’d killed and drained a man burglarizing a nearby house. I’d recognized his scent from a few other robberies, one of which included a murder, and was only too happy to be rid of him as his activities brought the attention of the police to my neighborhood. The vampire guard searched for the man when he didn’t show up for work and found my scent at the scene. Laumet summoned me back to his old headquarters at Lee Plaza for a dressing down and easily justified my pardon given our history and the extracurricular nature of the man’s activities.

  The second time was more difficult for Laumet to tolerate and still save face. While scoping out possible historic houses to consider for my next project, a massive wave of fear, despair, rage, and lust slammed into me. I wrenched the car over in front of a dilapidated house in a bad block and tracked the emotions to the back yard. Three men pinned a young dark-skinned woman to a cushioned lounge chair on a covered patio. I snapped the neck of the rapist and savored the fear flooding from the other two who knew it was wrong but stood by. I incapacitated them in ways that wouldn’t reveal anything unusual about who had participated in the attack.

  I carefully charmed the distraught woman to calm her, then I replaced the story of my role with a fiction about a rival gang that showed up, interrupted the assault, and fought the perpetrators before fleeing. I found a towel and covered the woman’s body, then dialed 911. Given the scenario, I couldn’t feed on the men as I originally intended, so I fled as the sirens approached.

  It turned out those three men were at the top of the organizational hierarchy of a gang closely allied with Laumet. Their deaths created a temporary power vacuum that disrupted business deals, resulted in further bloodshed, and required Laumet to renegotiate the terms of their business agreement, this time somewhat less advantageously.

  As happened the first time, the vampire guard identified my scent at the scene, so Laumet summoned me back to Lee Plaza. Jacques was livid and wanted my head—literally. This particular set of business deals apparently fell under his purview. He was incensed at my interference in his affairs.

  This one was trickier for Laumet to navigate. His solution was ultimately to offer a stern warning: If I
interfered in his business again, I would pay for it with my freedom, life, or both.

  He regretted the need for such a dire threat, but it enabled him to continue to protect me and save face. Reading his emotions, I knew his outburst was more for Jacques and his underlings than for me. I wasn’t concerned.

  Standing at my kitchen counter with the phone still in my hand, I nodded. I knew precisely how dangerous this city was. I would do anything to protect Samantha from all that, even if I had to climb that pole and change the damn bulb myself. I shoved the phone book back in the drawer and replaced the phone on its cradle.

  A moldy smell caught my attention, and I frowned. I tracked the odor to my pantry and grimaced when I found a loaf of bread with significant green growth around the edges. Huh. That made me wonder about the food in the refrigerator and I opened the door and stared in, though I had no idea what I was looking for. How long does human food stay good anyway?

  I pulled out the unopened carton of milk and turned it around. The date stamped into the top indicated it had three days left, so I put it back. I shrugged at the rest of it and chucked the spoiled bread into the trash. If I was going to continue to spend time with Samantha and Ollie, I’d have to figure this food thing out eventually.

  Soon it was no longer too early to go visit Samantha. I smiled triumphantly at the overcast sky as I ran down my front steps. I tasted her sweetness as I turned the corner of my house into the grassy field that led to Samantha’s townhouse. When I looked up, she was crossing the field toward me.

  Samantha smiled when she saw me. The warmth of her affection lit me up inside. The sweet taste of her happiness wrapping around me, I picked up my pace, eager to have her in my arms again. When we met in the middle, I threw my arms around her and lifted her up.