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

by Opal Carew

  Sleep.

  It was amazing, but she fought it. Her eyes blinked open a half dozen times. “Mommy,” she slurred before finally succumbing.

  I scanned the length of the street. Empty. I raced Ollie down to my truck and laid her on the floor of the back seat. Then I returned for Samantha, who was bleeding enough the sidewalk was stained where I’d left her. I cradled her in my arms, then flew with her to my waiting truck, placing her limp body across the back seat.

  Blood. Cazzo! What happened to that damn cooler? It seemed a minor point, but I might need that blood now more than ever. Not for me, for Samantha. I raced across the street and scanned the ground around Jacques’s remains. It wasn’t there. I don’t have time for this!

  In seconds, I retraced my steps and finally found the bag on the ground next to Samantha’s house. I jumped in the truck and peeled out of Frederick Street, heading to a Victorian about five miles away I’d acquired during the fall and only recently finished remodeling and staging.

  Passing the For Sale sign, the truck screeched to a hard stop in the driveway of the Victorian. I threw the strap of the cooler over my shoulder, then wrenched the rear door open and grabbed Ollie’s sleeping body. I flew with her into the house and laid her on a bed in an upstairs room, where she grumbled and stirred in her sleep.

  Then I raced back out for Samantha and moaned at how much blood coated the black leather of the seat. Her hair was thick with it on the left side. I kicked the truck door shut and ran inside. I secured the multiple locks on the front door and carried her up the stairs, then laid her gently on the bed in the master suite.

  I paced and began to doubt my wisdom in bringing them to this house. The hospital would’ve been better equipped to care for her, but I feared we’d be hunted. And I had no idea how I’d explain the bite wound. But no one knew about this house. No one would know to look here.

  I ripped the pocket of my jeans pulling my cell phone out, then pressed a button and counted the rings. My call waiting interrupted—Catherine.

  “I need help,” I answered in a hoarse voice.

  “What happened?”

  “Samantha was attacked. Put Griffin or Henrietta on the phone.”

  “Lucien, I’m not home. Hang up and—”

  I redialed and called Griffin. He answered on the first ring. “Lucien, did you just ca—”

  “Griffin. Cristo. I need your help. Samantha was attacked by Jacques Laumet.” He sucked in a breath. “She’s unconscious and bleeding profusely. I don’t know what to do.”

  He put me on speaker phone so the others could hear. “All right, Lucien.” Henrietta took over. “Describe her injuries to me.”

  “Oh, mio Dio! There’s blood everywhe—”

  “I know this is hard. But stay calm and start from her head and work down.”

  “Okay. Okay. Shit.” I eased onto the mattress next to Samantha and winced as my weight shifted her body. “She’s bleeding from the left side of her head, and there’s blood coming out of her left ear. Her hair is so matted it’s hard to see.”

  “That’s fine. Keep going.”

  “There’s blood coming out of her nose. Her left eye and cheekbone are bruised and scraped up like…like…ah, Cristo.” The image of Jacques striking her boiled my blood with rage.

  “What else, Lucien?” Henrietta’s voice demanded I focus.

  My eyes went red again as my sight settled on Samantha’s neck. “Her neck is mangled, chewed, and still bleeding,” I managed through clenched teeth. I forced a breath that failed to calm. “Her right arm is broken and probably a finger, too. Hold on…”

  Silently apologizing, for the shirt and so much else, I grasped the top of her button-down and wrenched it open. “Oh, Dio. There’s bruising all along her ribs. The bottom one looks obviously broken on her left side.”

  “How about her abdomen, Lucien? Is there any bruising or swelling in her abdomen?”

  “Not that I can tell.” My voice cracked.

  “Okay, I’ve heard enough.”

  “She’s not moving at all, Hen, and her breathing’s so shallow…”

  “Lucien, you’re going to have to perform a Blood Healing. And soon. The head injury is the most worrisome and—”

  “But I’ve…I’ve never—”

  “I’ll walk you through it, but you must. She cannot go without treatment for the four or five hours it’ll take us to get there.”

  “Cazzo!” I roared as I tugged mercilessly at my hair.

  It was far from an agreement, but Henrietta continued anyway. “You must open your wrist and get her to drink from you,” Henrietta instructed as my mind whirled.

  “Hen, I don’t think I can do this—”

  “You are vampire, Lucien. You are capable. And you must be willing. For Samantha.”

  “But I’ve never told her. I can’t change her without having ever told her. I won’t.”

  “Look, focus. You won’t change her. The change can only take place if there’s a full Blood Exchange, and you’ve injected her with the change enzyme from your fangs. Since you’re not biting her, that won’t happen.”

  “Okay. Jesus, okay.”

  “You’ll be saving her, Lucien. Your blood will be curative. And her body’s healing process will consume the vampire blood within her, leaving her human. Now, go. You can do this.”

  I dropped the phone from my ear and stepped to the edge of the bed. I was nearly frozen with fear and crippled with guilt. My heart lay broken and bleeding on the bed before me.

  As I grieved Samantha’s injuries, a footstep startled me from my thoughts, and I snapped around. Ollie stood in the doorway, her face white as a ghost.

  I willed the blood out of my eyes and gaped at the child who by all rights should still be asleep. She had willed herself to consciousness despite the force of my charm. I of all people didn’t need it, but here was further proof Olivia Sutton was a special and powerful creature. She stepped forward and stood halfway behind an armchair near the door.

  “Go back to your room.” I trembled with the effort to keep my voice gentle as I spoke to her.

  “I want to stay with Mommy.” Her voice was shaky, but her resolve was strong.

  “Ollie, I need to help her.” “Then do it.”

  “I can’t. Do it. With you here.”

  “Yes, you can. I’m not leaving.” Her eyes remained on Samantha’s form lying on the bed.

  “Ollie—”

  “Do whatever it is you do.” She looked me straight in the eye. “Just help her. Please, Lucien.”

  Whatever it is I do? Her words made my head spin. I walked over to her and gently pulled her body around to sit on the chair.

  She placed her little hand on my cheek. “You can do it. I know you can. Angels have magic powers. Mommy read me books about that.”

  Angels? I knew Ollie was obsessed with angels— Samantha had ascribed it to having told her, “Gramma is with the angels now.”

  Samantha’s heart stuttered. This conversation would have to wait. “You can only stay if you promise to close your eyes. Do you promise?” She nodded. “I mean it, do not open them for any reason until I tell you to. Do you understand?” She nodded more forcefully this time and squeezed her eyes closed.

  I flew to Samantha’s side and looked back over my shoulder to make sure Ollie was keeping her promise. I sunk my teeth into my wrist and tore my radial artery open, then I placed it over Samantha’s mouth. I’d cut deep and the blood flowed freely. She gagged before swallowing once, twice, five times, more.

  I glanced at Ollie, who sat stone still.

  Samantha’s heart thundered. Her face and chest broke out in a cold sweat as her body reacted to the presence of my blood. Cazzo! How much do I give her? I pulled my hand away when I estimated she’d received about two pints. Unthinkingly, I brought my wrist to my mouth and licked. The cut knitted itself together, though not as quickly as usual. My abdominal wound was still healing.

  “Keep them closed, Ollie,�
� I said gruffly as I walked out of the room. I flew down to the kitchen and grabbed some hand towels and a bowl of water. I returned and cleaned Samantha’s body of the blood she’d shed.

  “Can I open them yet?” Ollie whispered from across the room.

  I pulled a blanket up over Samantha’s shuddering body. “Yes. Stay where you are for a minute though, okay?”

  She nodded and followed me with her eyes as I walked into the adjoining bathroom.

  I dumped the bowl of bloody water into the tub, then set the bowl down so I could wash my hands, arms, and face. Between killing Jacques and carrying Samantha, I was nearly as befouled as Samantha had been. I’d need to find a change of clothes at some point, but not until I knew Samantha was stable.

  When I came out of the bathroom, Ollie was standing by her mother’s bedside. “Ollie—”

  “Is she going to be okay?” She looked over her shoulder at me.

  “I…I don’t know. I’ve never…tried to save someone before.” She searched my face and eyes before turning back to look at her mother. “Ollie, we need to talk.”

  “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

  I frowned. “You won’t tell anyone what?”

  “About what you are.” Her voice was matter of fact.

  “What…” I gently pulled her arm so she was facing me and knelt down in front of her. Not sure I wanted to know the answer, I continued, “What do you think I am?”

  She was full of worry for her mother and still badly shaken over the attack. But none of her fear was directed at me. “A guardian angel, of course,” she said as she reached forward and brushed a strand of hair off my face.

  A…what? “Ollie, I’m not an angel.” My voice was almost a whisper.

  “You have to say that. I know you’re not supposed to tell. But I knew it the first time I saw you at the hospital.”

  Holding her little hands in mine, I asked, “What are you talking about? Why would you think that?”

  The words spilled out as if she’d long thought about them but never before given them voice. “First of all, you’re really pale, and your skin’s all glowy, just like the pictures of angels in my books. And you don’t eat. I didn’t realize that right away, sorry about the cake, but angels don’t need food and neither do you. Plus, you can do all kinds of superpowers. When you flew across the street that day with the truck, I knew for sure there was something wrong, er, uh, different about you, but I didn’t know what it was until I saw a picture of an angel flying. Plus you flew down the stairs that day. Mommy was right. And you picked up that car.”

  Ollie was not quite six, but she spoke with the self-assurance of an adult.

  I was stunned. My mouth moved but nothing came out.

  I was equally dazed by the fact Ollie was perfectly calm—neither her emotions nor her heartbeat indicated any fear. I looked at Samantha, pale and still on the bed. Ollie followed my eyes. We stood motionless for some amount of time, keeping vigil.

  “Ollie?” She looked back at me. “Angels are good, but I’m—”

  “Not all angels are good. The one who hurt Mommy wasn’t good. Was he an angel of death?”

  I shook my head in defeat. I don’t know how to respond to this. Maybe it is better to let her believe I am an angel? God, I wish she was right.

  I pulled the armchair closer to the bed and lifted Ollie into it. I got her a glass of water. I could tell she was hungry, but I wasn’t willing to leave them alone to get her something.

  I paced. I stood. I knelt next to Ollie. Hours passed. How long is this supposed to take?

  When a car pulled into the driveway, I flew down the stairs, fangs out and hackles raised. I peered out a front window and relief flooded through me when my family stepped out of their car. We exchanged solemn greetings.

  Henrietta laid a hand on my arm and squeezed. My fangs retracted. The momentary infusion of peace and hope she gave me felt like water to a man lost in the desert.

  Speaking low and fast so only we could hear, I recounted to them how I’d administered my blood to Samantha. It had been nearly five hours, but there hadn’t been any perceptible change. Henrietta urged patience. The extent of Samantha’s injuries meant the healing process would take time. Henrietta was about to head up the stairs to check on Samantha when I stopped her to explain one last thing: Ollie’s theory. They were moved by Ollie’s insightfulness and her obvious faith in goodness that led her to see light where others saw darkness.

  As Henrietta and Rebecca went upstairs to check on Ollie and Samantha, Griffin asked me to tell the story of what happened from the beginning. I began with my conversation with Langston and ended with decapitating Jacques. The gravity of that action finally descended on me. I bent over and braced my hands on my knees with a groan.

  Cazzo! I killed Jacques. I killed Antoine Laumet’s only remaining son.

  Thinking several steps ahead, Griffin dispatched Jed and William to retrieve and dispose of Jacques’s body. “Lucien, I need you to stay focused. We’re here now. We’re going to help you sort this out.” Griffin’s voice was full of restrained anger and indignant protectiveness.

  I nodded as he squeezed my shoulder.

  Another car pulled up out front. Catherine’s worry unsettled my gut. When I opened the door, she flew into my arms as her words rushed out. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I was in Canada when I sensed something had happened. So, what did happen?”

  Griffin recounted the story while I went upstairs to check on Samantha. I found Rebecca leaning against a wall and Henrietta sitting in the arm chair next to Samantha’s bed with Ollie on her lap.

  Henrietta met my eyes. “It’s working, Lucien, although her internal injuries were extensive. I was able to…take care of her arm and ribs, but not…some of the rest of it. I might suggest another…dose.”

  Ollie looked up to Henrietta’s face. Her voice was nearly a whisper. “Henny, you don’t have to talk in code, you know. ’Cause I know.” She held Henrietta’s gaze for one minute more before returning her head to the crook of Henrietta’s neck so she could keep an eye on her mom.

  “Told you,” I said as Henrietta gaped at me. I stepped to the edge of the bed. “Ollie, I need to help your mom again…” She closed her eyes before I even asked. “Er, okay.”

  I bit into my wrist and held it once again to Samantha’s mouth. Griffin and Catherine walked into the room and hovered near the foot of the bed. Henrietta scooted Ollie off her lap so she could stand up and ensured as she placed her back on the chair her eyes were still shut. Then she placed one hand over Samantha’s heart and one hand on her head, sensing the flow of my blood into her.

  “I think that’s enough, Lucien.”

  I pulled my wrist away and licked across the wound, binding it. It healed faster this time thanks to Henrietta’s earlier touch.

  “Now,” she said, “we wait.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The family sat and stood around the bed, seven of the world’s most powerful creatures made weak and vulnerable by the worry and anxiety we all felt for Samantha.

  “Lucien?” Catherine’s concerned voice interrupted the tense silence after a while. “How much have you... “—she glanced at Ollie—”given?”

  “About four, I think.”

  Griffin nodded at Catherine. “Lucien, why don’t you go take a break with Catherine for a few minutes? We’ll stay here with Samantha and Ollie.”

  I was about to argue, but Griffin’s expression convinced me not to, so I decided on the route of least resistance. Catherine and I walked to a room down the hall. We stepped inside, and I pushed the door shut behind us.

  “Sit, Lucien. You need to feed.”

  “Catherine—”

  “No, Lucien. You don’t look good. It’s obvious you haven’t fed recently, you were shot and poisoned with silver, and you’ve just given away more than a third of your volume. You need to feed.” She unbuttoned the sleeve of her blouse and rolled it up.

  I
remained standing. “I have a cooler full of blood around here somewhere.”

  “Good. You drink from me. I’ll replenish with some of that. My blood is better for you anyway. You need to build your strength back up.” She patted the bed beside her. “Sit.”

  When I finally sat next to her, she shifted so her body faced the side of mine. Then she held her arm up to me. Vampire blood was sweet and full of raw power. It heightened senses and intensified strength like nothing else. Usually only vampire mates exchanged blood, as Catherine and I had frequently done when we were together. So her offer was truly extraordinary and proved again what an invaluable friend she was.

  I cradled her arm in my hands and laid a soft kiss on her forearm. She nodded when my eyes met hers. I sank my teeth in over her radial artery. She sucked in a breath but was calm. With her other hand, she rubbed my back in a gesture of comfort. It’d been seven decades since I’d last felt Catherine’s blood within me. The strength of vampire blood immediately enlivened my senses and fortified my musculature.

  “Okay.” Catherine rubbed gently where my hair met my neck.

  I immediately released her and ran my tongue across the wound. She pulled her wrist back and waited for the healing to complete before rolling her sleeve back down.

  “Thank you, Catherine.”

  She smiled at me and nodded. “Hey, how’s your stomach?”

  I rose and tugged my hands through my hair. Her blood was at work on the wound. “Fine.”

  She reached for the hem of my ruined shirt.

  I blocked her hands and pulled one to my mouth. I pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “I’m fine.”

  “Lucien—”

  Jed and William’s car pulled into the driveway. “Come on,” I said as I turned away.

  Catherine sighed and followed me out of the room and downstairs.

  Jed and William came through the front door. Jed spoke first: “Somebody got to him before we did.”

  “The place reeked of vampire. Besides you and Laumet, I’d say there were three others there at some point,” William said.

  Cazzo! I nodded and ran my hands roughly through my hair.