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

by Opal Carew

  I slid down to my knees in front of her and took her hand in mine. “Please say something.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m dying here. What is it?” Rebecca’s nervousness around Samantha appeared to be wearing off.

  Without looking away from Samantha, I explained, “I made a donation to the children’s hospital where Samantha works…Sam?”

  She shook her head. “Lucien, ‘a donation’ is…fifty dollars, a hundred. This is…this is…I... How?”

  “I sold a house.”

  “You sold a house?” She laughed. Then her face became serious. A single tear streamed down her face. “This is for real?”

  I nodded.

  “You sold a house and are making a contribution to the children’s hospital in my parents’ names?”

  I nodded again and tried to interpret the multiple physical sensations her emotions caused.

  “In the amount of”—she glanced at the papers again—”a hundred thousand dollars?”

  “Yes.”

  To their credit, the others didn’t audibly express the surprise they felt, but it tingled in the pit of my stomach.

  She pulled a set of papers out. “I don’t understand what this means.”

  “It means you get to decide how the money is used. I spoke with the hospital development officer about what a useful sum would be, but I wanted you to get to decide. You have a meeting scheduled for Monday with her, and she plans to make a presentation to you about the hospital’s current needs. Then you’ll get to choose how to allocate the use of the funds.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say.” Even her emotions seemed stunned.

  “Say you’ll take the meeting.”

  “Say I’ll take the meeting? No, not about the meeting. About…about how much—”

  I kissed her. “It’s only money, Sam. I have a lot of it. You already know that. I don’t need it. Having it has never made me happy. Having you makes me happy. Having you happy makes me happy. I just wanted you to know your parents were important to me, because they were important to you. And I just thought…if you saw their names there when you went to work every day, maybe you wouldn’t feel like you were quite as alone as I know you sometimes feel.”

  She threw her arms around my neck. “I’m going to kill you for this!” she sobbed. Then: “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, dolcezza.” I kissed her hair and stroked her back. Samantha held on for a long time.

  Jed nudged William. “It’s a good thing Rebecca and Anna already opened their gifts. We would’ve looked like complete schmucks if we’d followed that.” Rebecca thumped a pillow on his head. Everyone roared with laughter, breaking the tension that had built in the room.

  Samantha laughed, too, and wiped her face with some tissues Henrietta passed her. “Oh, God. I need something to drink. And some chocolate.”

  “Hey, Jed? Pass around that bowl of candy over there.” I smirked at him as he took a small chocolate and passed it around. Those who were already out of the bet passed.

  Samantha took two, so I sent the bowl around again. Henrietta brought Sam and the others glasses of soda. Jed gagged a little on the fizzy liquid.

  For the rest of the day, Samantha’s emotions were a wild, curious mixture of happiness and sadness, elation and anger. She was also so aroused I thought I was burning from the inside out. At every available opportunity, we stole away for an intense moment of kissing or groping. She was more aggressive than I’d ever seen her. I was enthralled, but also concerned.

  At bedtime, Samantha went upstairs before me. The bedroom door had barely clicked behind me when she grabbed and shoved me toward the bed. I fell backward, and she was on top of me, clawing at my clothes and ripping off her own. Whatever had been going on with her all day was now clearly finding a release.

  “Sam?”

  She kissed me roughly and shoved her tongue into my mouth. I groaned and pushed her back. Though we french kissed all the time, I generally kept her out of my mouth.

  “Sam?”

  Finally, she stilled. With her hands braced on my shoulders, her eyes burned down into mine. Her anger squeezed my chest. Her voice was strained. “Lucien, we’ll talk later. I promise. But right now I want you, and I need you. And I need you to know it, feel it.” Her words clarified little, but I nodded.

  She unleashed herself on me, kissing and licking and roughly nipping at my upper body all while maintaining eye contact. I thrust my hips into her when she lingered over my Blood Mark. I finally had to grab her hair and tug her attention away from it. With a groan, she reached a hand down between her legs and worked herself as she devoured me. When I realized what she was doing, I moaned and gripped her shoulders and rolled on top of her.

  I grabbed her hand and pulled it to my mouth, then noisily sucked on her wet fingers. I groaned at the sweet nectar of her arousal.

  “You see what you do to me, Lucien? What only you do to me?” she rasped. “Take me, Lucien. I’m yours,” she offered as she planted her feet flat on the mattress and pushed herself up forcefully against my erection.

  Her aggression spurred mine, and I grunted. “You want me?” I asked as I ground myself against her wetness.

  She ran a hand over the bedspread and found the packet she’d apparently laid out earlier. She slid herself against me as she opened it and then rolled on the condom. “God, yes,” she whimpered.

  I plunged forward and filled her in one hard stroke. She screamed and wrapped herself around me. Hard breaths and grunts and strained curses in two languages filled the room as we battled through Samantha’s emotions with our bodies. She kissed me roughly and dug her nails into my flesh. The physical pain mingled with her radiating pleasure to coax what I was sure was going to be one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever experienced.

  She came in a frenzy of screams and muscle contractions. And then bit against the taut skin at the base of my neck. Hard.

  My fangs and release shot out at the same time. I growled and in a blur turned my head in search of my biceps. I missed the tender skin of her shoulder by a hair as the urge to bite down became irresistible.

  Finally, I willed my fangs to retract and licked at the wound I’d made on my arm, then slid down a little and laid my head on her heaving breasts.

  “I love you,” I whispered breathlessly.

  She hugged my shoulders and combed her fingers through my hair. “I love you, too.” We lay together, panting, for a long time. “Lucien?” I lifted my head off her chest to look at her. “I’m ready to talk now.”

  “Okay.”

  She took a deep breath. “I will be thankful for your gift until the day I die. But I want to be clear. I don’t want anymore grand gestures.”

  “Sam—”

  “No. You have to hear me. I know you have some need to prove your worthiness to me, and in general. But I don’t need you to jump in front of bullets. Or leap over tall buildings. Or lasso me the moon. I don’t need grand gestures to know you are the love of my life.”

  The. Love. Of. Her. Life? I sputtered momentarily and then whispered, “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I know you didn’t, which is why I can accept it. I’m just saying.”

  “Okay.” I grasped her hand and rubbed circles with my thumb.

  “Deal?” She still looked stern. But her emotions were full of love and acceptance.

  “Deal.” I met her eyes. Her faith in me warmed and chilled me. I had yet to fully earn it.

  ***

  We stayed at Orchard Hill through Sunday morning, when we departed to make the long journey back to Detroit. As we were leaving, Catherine and William both stepped forward to claim their prizes. Jed had been forced out when Samantha ate a couple handfuls of cashews on Saturday night; for some reason he just couldn’t stomach nuts. William would get his media room after all; by comparison, Catherine’s demand of a new camera with lenses seemed rather modest. I happily planned to pay up. I was so grateful for my family’s support over the past five day
s.

  By the end of the weekend, it seemed Samantha had known them forever. She and Ollie hugged them all freely before we left. Each member of my family had pulled me aside at some point during our stay to express their affection for Samantha and to say how good they thought we were together. And, of course, they were all head over heels in love with Ollie.

  None of them, however, seemed to have any better ideas than I as to how to introduce Samantha to the elephant in the room.

  As we drove home, I couldn’t stanch the warmth the memory of the weekend caused in my chest. Though there was still an omission of fundamental importance I needed to rectify, I couldn’t help but feel good about the developments in my relationships with Samantha and Ollie. I felt closer to them than I had to anyone in over a century.

  Samantha was right. I did feel the need to prove my worthiness—my worthiness of their acceptance of me, which was a gift I so wanted to deserve.

  As the miles ticked by, I found myself looking forward to the new year with the woman—the family—I so desperately loved.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Three weeks after Christmas, the cold, snowy winter weather broke. For two days, temperatures hit the mid-forties. It was downright balmy.

  After school on the first day, Ollie begged Samantha to let her ride her bike. Samantha finally relented, and Ollie rode the loop around the block, dodging still unthawed snow drifts while her mother and I walked behind her.

  On the second day, Mrs. Johnson watched Ollie after school, because Samantha and I both had meetings. Samantha had a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon. She’d been fatigued for weeks, which likely resulted from the stress of the last few months. Though she seemed to be regaining her appetite, she hadn’t been eating well and had lost weight. The walk around the block on the first warm night convinced her to make an appointment, because it was clear the short walk had taken effort.

  She hadn’t even had the energy to offer her usual rant about the still-unfixed street light by the park. To the city’s credit, they had come to replace the bulb only to find faulty wiring in the pole that required the replacement of the whole thing. God only knew when that would happen.

  My meeting was with Langston at 5 p.m. at the hospital to pick up more blood. He’d become the sole source of my nourishment over the past months. I arrived promptly, eager to get home to hear what the doctor had to say to Samantha. Langston loaded the B-positive into my cooler, zipped it shut, and then sat down in the chair behind his desk.

  “Lucien, you might have a problem.” His expression was weary and serious. “And I might have caused it.”

  I sat forward in my chair. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Jacques.”

  “What about him?”

  “It’s probably nothing. But he overheard a conversation Antoine and I had about you. I’m sorry, but Magena saw my thoughts about your relationship with the woman. I ended up having to tell him.”

  I stood up in front of his desk. The scent of Langston’s fear did little to suppress my panic. “And?”

  “Antoine was fine, amused perhaps, but mostly he was just happy for you.”

  “Langston, get to the damn punch line. What’s the problem? What did Jacques overhear?” As if their knowing about Samantha wasn’t bad enough.

  “It was something Antoine said. Again, it’s probably nothing.”

  I growled.

  “Okay, okay. Antoine said he was pleased his son had finally found some peace and happiness.”

  I winced, suspecting where this was heading.

  “Then Jacques threw a chair through a wall, roared at Antoine he only had one son—him—and flew out.”

  I scrubbed my hands through my hair and locked them on top of my head.

  “Antoine dismissed his outburst, but I just thought you should know. He sent some of the guard out to find him. Just watch your back, man, that’s all I’m saying. You know Jacques.”

  I nodded once and ripped the cooler bag off his desk and fled. A clock in the hospital corridor read 5:28 p.m. Samantha should be home. I just wanted her and Ollie with me.

  I wasn’t sure what to think about Jacques. On the one hand, he was a hothead who hated me and felt I stole his father’s affection. On the other hand, he was extremely loyal to his father, who had protected me on multiple occasions. I pondered whether the situation necessitated a meeting with Antoine as I left the hospital and regretted I’d walked. The warmer weather had brought people out of hibernation, and the darkening streets were full. I had to walk at a human pace, but calmed myself with the knowledge it would only take fifteen minutes to get home.

  I was within a block of Samantha’s when the chaotic sensations nearly leveled me—the stench and pain and rancid taste I registered as rage, jealousy, terror, and agony set me on full alert.

  Witnesses be damned, I broke out into an unnatural sprint in search of the source of those feelings. I scanned Samantha’s house as I approached it; no one seemed to be there. The feelings intensified as I raced across the grassy field. My house was dark; they weren’t there either.

  Then I hit the street.

  I had found Jacques. He had found Samantha. He held her in a tight embrace and was clearly feeding from her.

  I bolted across, vaulting over a parked car, and aimed for the dark spot shrouded by bushes and trees under the broken fucking street light. My only solace was he didn’t seem to be reacting to the holy water in her blood yet, which I’d been giving both of my girls for months, so he’d just bitten her. I soared over Ollie’s abandoned bike and slammed into them, trying like hell to avoid Samantha’s body.

  Jacques roared in outrage and dropped Samantha as he whirled on me. She slumped to the cold ground. I tore my now-inhuman eyes away from her to deal with him.

  “You always did know how to ruin a good time,” he spat.

  The world went fucking red with my rage at the image of Samantha’s blood dripping off his fangs. All I could see was my maker hunched in the darkness over Lena’s body, his crimson eyes and gory fangs flashing to me when I’d interrupted. But Jacques was standing too close to Samantha’s crumpled body to act rashly.

  Then he coughed and sprayed a fine red mist into the air.

  “How ya feeling there, Jacques?” I sneered through sharp fangs as I stalked closer.

  A thin line of blood trickled down from one nostril. He fisted it away. “What the fuck?”

  In the split second his eyes flashed down to evaluate the blood he’d wiped onto his knuckles, I launched myself at him.

  We collided in a wall of muscle and will and hate.

  Jacques stumbled back, propelled by my weight, and gripped my biceps to fling me off him. But my hold was tighter. He succeeded only in spinning us so that when we crashed to the ground, I was on top and pinned him.

  Then he made the last in a long line of fatal errors: he turned his head to snap at my wrist where it held his down. In a blur, I leaned forward and sank my fangs deep into his exposed neck.

  He roared in outraged surprise. I grunted in disgust as I wrenched my head to the side, tearing a gaping wound partway through his neck. Blood gurgled and splattered from the breach. His eyes were disbelieving as they angled up at me.

  “You did this,” I hissed as I released his arms and brought my hands to his jaw. I didn’t pay attention to his newly freed hands until the cold steel pressed against my gut. He squeezed the trigger a split second before I ripped his head clean free of his body. Through a red haze, I watched as his head unevenly rolled under a bush. His body twitched then stilled.

  Then the searing fire of the silver bullet registered.

  I grunted and keened and clambered off Jacques’s torso. I retched up the blood that had gotten into my mouth and throat. It tasted and stank of his evil and burned where Samantha’s precious blood mixed in.

  Samantha. I pushed through the paralyzing agony the silver caused and scrabbled over to her. “Oh, no. Oh, please.”

  She was
unconscious. Blood poured from her nose, ear, and neck. The left side of her face was swollen and bruising. Her right arm sat at an unnatural angle. That was all I could see in that moment. It was enough.

  I pushed myself up onto my knees and tore my shirt open to inspect the gunshot. The fist-sized wound was ragged and raw. My body was trying to heal, but the silver impeded my natural defenses. I reached into my boot and retrieved the titanium dagger I always kept there. With a grunt and a hiss, I plunged the blade into the wound and twisted it until I finally worked the poisonous slug out with the assistance of an old Italian prayer.

  A tingling relief slowly—too goddamned slowly—replaced the burning pain, and a cursory glance down confirmed the now enlarged wound was starting to heal.

  I sheathed the bloody knife and scooped Samantha’s too-still form into my arms and didn’t notice when her blood dripped onto my left hand.

  Ollie. I staggered back to the sidewalk and forced my brain to calm and focus. With difficulty, I blinked and drained my eyes, then retracted my teeth. I scanned the street and sensed a rapid heartbeat from under a parked car twenty feet away.

  Langston had told me others were looking for Jacques, so I moved quietly up the sidewalk and crouched down with Samantha. Peering under the car, I found Ollie’s trembling form mostly balled up behind a tire. I shifted Samantha’s weight and extended a hand under the car. Ollie screamed and retreated to the other side.

  She couldn’t see my face, so I laid Samantha gently on the sidewalk and crouched down. “Ollie, it’s me, baby. You have to come out from there. Hurry. We have to go.” I kept my voice low.

  “Lucien?” It came out as a high-pitched whimper. Her terror sliced through me.

  “Yes. Come on, Ollie.”

  “I can’t.” Her teeth chattered with the chill of her fear.

  I didn’t have time to coax her out. With regret, I placed my hand under the wheel well closest to her body and lifted the car enough to grab her with my free hand. She shrieked. I looked into her eyes, regretting the need to charm her.