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

by Opal Carew

I looked at Ollie and led her into the hallway. At the top of the steps, I sat down and patted the step beside me. She sat too.

  “Ollie, I want to thank you for what you did in there.”

  “I told you I wouldn’t tell.”

  “I know you did. And I appreciate that. But I want you to make me a promise.” She looked up at me. “I agree we needed to do what we just did in this one situation. But I want you to promise you won’t lie to your mother about anything else. Do you agree?”

  “Okay.”

  I needed to make that promise too, but couldn’t. Not yet. “Let’s shake on it.” I held my hand out to her and she slid her hand around my thumb and laughed. “Come on. Are you hungry?”

  She nodded, so we went downstairs. Everyone joined us in the kitchen as I rummaged through the bags Jed and William had brought from the store. I set three boxes of Pop Tarts on the counter and threw a look at Jed, who shrugged.

  “Looks like it’s Pop Tarts, Ollie. Is that okay?”

  “Sure!” She grabbed the blueberry box, opened it, and lifted out a silver foil package. I handed her a napkin and a glass of water. I found a bunch of bananas in another bag and handed one of those to her as well.

  “She didn’t remember me being in the room before, did she?”

  I looked at Henrietta. “No, it doesn’t seem like it.”

  She looked at Ollie and hesitated. “Then maybe we should go before she knows we’re here.” I frowned.

  “Henrietta’s right, Lucien,” Griffin added. “Our being here doesn’t well fit with the story.”

  Ollie silently ate her Pop Tarts but paid close attention to the conversation.

  “I know she would want to see you.” The wisdom of their words was winning me over, though I really didn’t want them to go.

  “Why don’t we just come back for a visit this weekend?” Rebecca offered. “That would make sense. We’d be coming to make sure she was doing okay and to help out around the house for the weekend while she was recuperating.”

  “I can’t come this weekend,” Henrietta replied. “I have to work. I can’t cancel this late; they’ll never find someone to replace me. I’m sorry, Lucien.”

  “What about next weekend, then?” Ollie hated to see them go as much as me. I smiled at her suggestion.

  They looked at each other. “Next weekend should work. We’ll come back,” Henrietta said as she smiled at Ollie.

  “Okay. It’s a plan,” I said. “Can you stay long enough to keep Ollie company while I help Samantha get a bath? I want to get her hair cleaned up before she…” sees how much blood there is.

  They got the gist without me needing to spell it out in front of Ollie. “Of course. Go ahead.” Griffin looked at me kindly.

  As I walked out of the room, everyone settled down at the table around Ollie. I laughed out loud when she giggled and asked, “Anybody want some?”

  They chuckled at her. Rebecca asked her to describe what a Pop Tart tasted like. Ollie’s voice rambled as I walked into Samantha’s room.

  Balancing a glass of orange juice and a banana in one hand and a bag in the other, I shut the door behind me. I sat the food on the nightstand and sank into the arm chair. Samantha seemed to be sleeping peacefully. About thirty minutes later, a plow rumbled down the street in front of the house, waking her.

  Her eyes settled on the orange juice. She reached out a hand for it. I helped her, and she drank half the glass. “Uh, that’s good.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Better, I guess. Achy.” She pushed herself up on an elbow.

  “How about a warm bath? It might help.”

  “Um, yeah. Sounds good, actually.”

  “Here.” I peeled the banana and handed it to her. “Try to eat a little something while I get the water going.” She nodded and nibbled a tiny bite.

  Within ten minutes, the bathtub was sufficiently filled. I pulled the shampoo and body wash out of the bag and sat them on the edge of the tub. I walked out to get Samantha and was relieved to see the empty banana peel laying on the nightstand.

  She was in the process of pushing herself into a sitting position. I silently thanked the girls for coming in overnight and dressing her. It would’ve been hard to explain the torn and bloody clothes.

  “Here. Let me help you.” I scooped her up into my arms and carried her into the bathroom. I sat her on the toilet lid, knelt down in front of her, and grabbed the hem of her shirt. “Is this okay?”

  She blushed a little—God it was wonderful to see that again—but nodded.

  “I won’t look. Promise.”

  She giggled weakly as I squeezed my eyes shut and lifted the shirt over her head. “Don’t be a dork, Lucien. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

  I opened my eyes and thrilled to see her smiling. “I’ve been called many things, Sam, but I don’t think I’ve even heard the word ‘dork’ since the 1980s.” She laughed. It was one of the most beautiful sounds in the world.

  I grabbed the waistband of the sweatpants she wore. “Lift.” She held her hips up, and I slid the fabric down. I met her eyes as I lifted her body and lowered her gently down into the warm water. “Is the temperature okay?”

  She leaned her upper body against her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Yeah. It feels good.”

  I grabbed a washcloth and dunked it in the water, then poured some of the soap into it. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” She watched me as I ran the cloth up and down her arms. I washed her back for her. Then she took over.

  “I missed you,” I said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

  “Lucien, you can’t be there every moment of every day. And it wasn’t your fault.”

  I ignored her last comment. “I always want to be there for you. If anything ever happened to you—”

  “Shhh, baby. I’m okay.” She reached out a wet hand and stroked my cheek. I leaned into her warm touch.

  As she finished bathing, I walked out into the bedroom to retrieve the water glass from the nightstand. I knelt back down and dipped it into the water. She tilted her head back for me while I wet her hair. The water turned pink and she looked up at me.

  “It’s nothing. Don’t worry. It just bled a lot.”

  Liar.

  She nodded. She knew how much head lacerations bled, even when they weren’t very serious.

  I picked up the shampoo and filled my palm with it. I worked the creamy liquid into her hair, trying to be thorough but gentle with the injured side of her head. When I massaged my fingers against her scalp, she closed her eyes. She loved when I ran my fingers through her hair. She said she found it relaxing.

  I scrubbed the length of her hair between my hands, then retrieved the glass again. Within minutes, all the blood and soap had been rinsed out and she turned the drain lever with her toes. I turned and grabbed a thick decorative towel off a bar and unfolded it.

  “Can you stand?”

  She pushed herself up but grabbed onto my shoulders. I wrapped the towel around her body and lifted her feet over the tub’s edge. She sat back down on the toilet lid, and I handed her another towel for her hair.

  Someone moved out in the bedroom, then Ollie came through the bathroom door. I peeked out and Henrietta stood in the shadow of the hallway. She blew me a kiss and mouthed, “See you soon,” then waved.

  “Thank you,” I mouthed in return. It wasn’t sufficient, but they knew what their help meant to me. It didn’t require words.

  Chapter Sixteen

  We returned to Samantha’s townhouse that evening. I had to smile at the kitchen appliance clocks blinking as if the power had gone out. My family was nothing if not thorough.

  Samantha was weak and exhausted but didn’t seem to be in any pain, for which I was eternally grateful. She made a concerted effort to eat since her anemia resulted at least in part from nutritional deficiencies, and she believed that was the cause of what had happened. My guilt at this train of thought grew since she w
as, of course, in no way responsible.

  But day by day, she got stronger. And it was easier to let it all go.

  Three days later, I finally gave in to her pleas to make love. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her. Dio, that was never the problem. I was just worried about harming her after what had happened. And I felt so damn guilty I didn’t think I deserved to have her.

  But Monday night, she was cuddled against me in bed trying, I thought, to fall asleep. Then the hand she had settled on my chest slowly slid down my abdomen and cupped me through my boxers.

  Her rhythmic grip enticed my erection immediately. “Please,” she whispered.

  I couldn’t stand her begging for what I was only too willing to give. I turned into her and gently took her face in my hand. I brushed my lips over her eyes and nose, and then leisurely nibbled at her lips and tongue until she was writhing against me.

  Together we fumbled under the covers at removing our clothing. I grabbed some condoms and, when nothing stood between us, we settled back into the same side-facing position and softly kissed and lovingly stroked one another. I took my time before I reached for the heated cleft between her thighs.

  “You’re so wet for me.” I groaned in pride and satisfaction as I dragged my fingers teasingly back and forth. The corners of her mouth quirked up around our kiss.

  “That’s because you drive me so insane.” Her hands moved into my hair and tangled and fisted the way I liked. “I really need you.”

  I shifted my body lower and kissed my way down her neck until I was eye level with her collar bone, then I pressed a wet kiss over her pounding heart and hitched her thigh over my hip. I rolled on the condom and gripped my hard length and rubbed the swollen head against her drenched opening. She coated me with her arousal.

  “Don’t tease me.” She pouted as she pressed kisses against my forehead.

  I pushed into her. Slowly I filled her. When I was fully seated within her heat, I paused to suckle at her breasts. She moaned and pressed herself down and against me.

  I threaded one arm under her body and gripped across her back; with my other hand, I grabbed hold of the curve of her hip. I rocked my hips against hers slowly and savored the sensations where we were joined. The sound of our lovemaking thrilled me as it always did—I relished the music of every shuddered sigh, wet kiss, pleasured moan, and shifting body.

  Slow and sweet as it was, I was surprised by how much more intense it felt to be in her now that we had a Blood Connection. That my blood had run through her veins tied us together in primal ways that allowed me to sense and anticipate her. The connection vibrated around us and pounded in my hard length. It made me need to be deeper.

  Gently I rolled on top of her and grunted and swallowed as the new position enabled her body to take more of me in. I cradled one of her legs up over an arm and opened her to me further.

  “Oh, fuck,” I breathed, still trying to go slow, savor.

  Samantha’s hands sought purchase against my sides until she finally pulled me down to lie fully atop her. “I love…your weight on…me,” she gasped around my thrusts.

  The heat of her growing need enflamed my body and my mind. I grunted my agreement as a possessive, dominating urge ran down my spine. She buried her fingernails in the clenching muscles of my ass.

  My restraint gave way. I gripped her shoulders and came at her with slow hard thrusts. Each time, I pulled myself almost all the way out of her before I hammered back in and rolled the base of my engorged sex against the center of her need.

  Samantha groaned out her pleasure and lifted her hips to meet mine. “So good, Lucien, so good. Don’t stop.”

  “Never.”

  We reached out with dry lips and wet tongues, but our labored breathing made lingering kisses difficult. So we panted and sighed and moaned into each other’s mouths as our bodies met again and again. When her breaths started to come in gasps and her muscles started to tighten around me, I shortened the length of my strokes and thrust faster to concentrate all my efforts on stimulating her.

  “That’s it. Oh…God.”

  I didn’t let up on her as she climaxed around me, on me. If anything, I moved harder, faster, dragging out her orgasm and chasing mine. When Samantha wrapped her arms and legs around me, the clenching in my groin told me to turn my head away from the sweating, pulsing life of her throat.

  “Come in me, Lucien,” she begged.

  Her words sent me over the edge. “Fuck.”

  My release erupted, and my fangs tore into my biceps. The Blood Connection intensified my orgasm as well, and I ground my hips into her over and over as seconds turned into a minute. I wondered with amazement if I’d possibly had more than one.

  I sucked my fangs and the blood on my arm back into my mouth and licked my wound shut as I panted on top of her. “Jesus Christ,” I rasped with my head on her shoulder.

  Knowing my weight must get uncomfortable on her, I pushed away with a kiss on her cheek. But she locked her ankles around my ass and held me in place.

  “What was that?” she asked, her tone full of incredulity and appreciation. I opened my mouth, trying to figure out exactly what she meant, when she continued, “That was freaking incredible.” Her smile was full and bright and coaxed one from me in return.

  “Yes.” I leaned down and kissed her. “It was.” Minutes later, we were dressed and spooned in bed, though Samantha kicked some of the covers off with protests of being too hot. I chuckled as she shifted around and tried to get comfortable, and then stilled in surprise when the heat of her renewed lust snaked through my abdomen toward my groin.

  Abruptly, she groaned and pressed her firm bottom back into my already-stiff erection. “Fuck, Lucien, I need you again.”

  “Your wish,” I hissed as I sucked on her neck. She continued to grind her ass into me.

  In one moment, I shoved her panties and my boxers down and sheathed myself in latex. Then I pushed her upper body slightly forward and found her wet entrance from behind.

  The whole night went on like that.

  We’d make love, and she’d sleep restlessly. Then she’d wake up, and one of us would need it again. My blood in her veins was calling me home. And it was clear both of us heard it.

  ***

  Samantha’s new job was set to start on Wednesday. She was determined to go lest she end up having to work the weekend when my family planned to visit. Wednesday morning dawned, and she did in fact seem better, even excited. She demonstrated that first with her body before confirming it with her words.

  “This is the first time I’ll step foot in that hospital as a real nurse.” She bounded out of bed and got in the shower. As she dressed in the bathroom, she called, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’ll be kinda good to get out of the house, too.”

  “Hey!” I pouted. But it was true. We hadn’t left the house at all during the previous five days while she recovered. I knew she was getting cabin fever.

  She emerged from the bathroom in scrubs—blue pants and a Snoopy shirt—with her damp hair in a ponytail. She leaned over the bed and kissed me. I restrained myself from pulling her back in with me. Barely.

  “Don’t work too hard today.” I remained worried about her.

  “I won’t. Thanks again for today.’”

  “No problem.” Ollie had a bad cold and was staying home from school. I told Samantha I’d stay with her. “Your cab is going to be here in ten minutes. You should go grab some breakfast.” I really wanted her to take a few extra days to recover. But when she insisted on going to work, I asked her to indulge me by getting a ride and not wasting her energy walking.

  She finally agreed but wasn’t happy about it. She rolled her eyes. “Lucien, I really can walk.”

  “I know. Humor me.”

  “Fine.” She kissed me again and then ran downstairs. A few minutes later, a car horn blared and Samantha yelled, “Bye! Love you!” as she ran out the door.

  It was a quiet day with Ollie, who really was si
ck and divided her time between sleeping in her bed and watching television. When Samantha got home at 3:30, Ollie was on the couch in the family room. Three hours later, we had her in bed for the night.

  Assuming Ollie wasn’t going to be well enough for school again the next day, Samantha asked Mrs. Johnson to watch her. I offered to do it, but she wanted me to get the Victorian cleaned back up and reopened to showings so it would be done before my family came. She was thrilled they were coming and didn’t want anything to interfere with their visit.

  I walked Ollie over to Mrs. Johnson’s in the morning after Samantha went to the hospital. She seemed better but looked pale and acted tired. I left my cell phone number with Mrs. Johnson; if Ollie got worse, I wanted her to call me and not disturb Samantha at work. Ollie climbed on Mrs. Johnson’s couch with a pink blanket and a thin brown bear she only seemed to want when she wasn’t feeling good. I loved knowing that about her.

  I kissed her on the forehead. “Bye, Ollie. I’ll see you later.”

  “Bye.” She laid her head down on the arm of the couch.

  “Thanks again, Mrs. Johnson. Don’t hesitate to call.”

  I jumped in my truck, still parked in front of Samantha’s since we’d returned from the Victorian. As I pulled the door shut, the full power of Samantha’s dried blood in the back seat hit me. I’d meant to clean it up but had completely forgotten. My fangs tingled. I powered all the windows down and pulled out of the lot.

  I spent the day cleaning my truck and the spec house. I no longer renovated houses for Lena. I did it to provide for Samantha and Ollie’s financial security. For the first time, I looked at the houses as investments in the future, not memorials of the past.

  I’d just finished making up the master bed with the new comforter set I’d purchased when my cell phone rang. I fished it out of my pocket and placed it to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Lucien, this is Betty Johnson.”

  “Is everything okay, Mrs. Johnson? How’s Ollie?”

  “Well, that’s what I was calling about. Is Ollie with you?”