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

by Opal Carew

  She dropped her gaze. “Yeah, well, that’s the big question, isn’t it? Why the hell am I here?”

  No one had an answer. She didn’t have an answer. Maybe this Madrona would have an answer. But it would mean trusting an uncle she’d never met with her brother’s life.

  “So,” she sighed, “if I agree to this, and I’m not saying yes, but if I do, what time frame are we looking at?”

  Gabriel’s expression didn’t change at all. “It’ll take probably a day to get hold of Matt and at least two days for him to drive. He doesn’t fly. Until then, I want to start Leo’s training.”

  Just the thought made her stomach roll. But she knew Gabriel well enough by now to know he wouldn’t let up. “And what does that include?”

  “Self-defense, weapons, tactics, skills development. I need to find out what he can do before I’ll know what else we’ll need to teach him.”

  Quinn stood. “Hey, I’m gonna leave you two to hash this out. I’ll go keep the kid company awhile.”

  Gabriel turned to grin at Quinn. And all the air left the room. How did Gabriel manage to make her hot with just a smile? “Maybe you can finally beat someone on that damn thing.”

  Quinn flipped him off with a smile. “I’d kick your ass, buddy.” Then he turned to her and winked. “Don’t let him bully you, Shea.”

  He turned and walked out of the room, leaving her alone with Gabriel. Strange things happened when she was alone with Gabriel. Emotions she had no time for, kisses she shouldn’t want, desires she couldn’t fulfill.

  All wrapped up in a man she’d met only days before.

  She stared into his steady brown eyes that never flinched. “You think Madrona will have answers?”

  He nodded. “I think she’s our best bet.”

  Not “your” best bet. “Our” best bet.

  A simmering warmth began in her stomach, making her shift in her seat. Gabriel twisted her emotions in knots, an odd feeling for her.

  “I still can’t believe Celeste never said anything about the curse,” he said.

  “My mom wasn’t big on heart-to-hearts.” She shifted in the chair, trying to find a more comfortable position for her throbbing leg. “And I think my dad—”

  Gabriel stood and carefully lifted her out of the chair. “Come on. Let’s find a better place for this conversation.”

  She slid her arms around his neck without thought then tried to ignore the strength of his broad shoulders. And the warmth of his thick arms banded around her as he carried her through the hall. And the spicy male scent of him that made her stomach tighten in knots.

  She didn’t look up at him. If he looked down, he’d see every one of her emotions.

  And that would be a disaster.

  So she stared at his jaw, at the black whiskers of his beard. And wondered what they’d feel like against her skin.

  She barely noticed they’d walked back to the front of the house, past the room where Quinn and Leo played games to a backdrop of grinding metal and screeching guitars. She finally dragged her gaze away when he pushed open a door and carried her into a dark space. Setting her on a soft surface, he walked away. A few seconds later, the door clicked shut and light flooded the room.

  She gasped. “Oh wow.”

  From her seat on a soft leather club chair, Shea didn’t know where to look first.

  The library was open to the second floor and its four walls were covered in books. A spiral staircase to the left of the door led to a small landing above. Two ladders ran on a rail system around the entire room, tall enough to the reach the top shelves under the ceiling.

  “Cool, huh?” Gabriel’s smile reappeared as he sat in the matching chair across from her. He didn’t settle in, though. He rested on the edge, feet on the floor, elbows on knees.

  Ready for action.

  “What are they all?”

  Her gaze continued to roam the walls, picking out what looked to be ancient stone tablets on a shelf between the floor and the first landing, and whole sections of books by some of the most famous fantasy writers in the world. An avid reader growing up, Shea had always imagined this was what heaven looked like.

  “A lot of everything.” Gabriel’s voice echoed slightly. “The versipelli started this collection centuries ago. Some are grimoires, some are journals. There are whole sections devoted to different histories.”

  “I could spend hours in here and never be bored.”

  “This was where I spent most of my time when my dad and I would lay over here. The versipelli are rabid about history. I think you’ll be able to find better answers to some of your questions here than I can give you. Serena has the women’s journals at the compound, but the grigori histories are kept here. I never met your father but I heard he spent a lot of time here before he and Celeste disappeared.”

  She nodded, smiling. “I can believe it. He had a story for everything. When I left…”

  Her heart tightened in her chest, unable to finish. A memory of her parents flashed into her head. Her mom’s quiet laughter as her dad told Shea some outlandish story. He’d been good at stories, especially the ones about beautiful folletti with butterfly wings and foolish boys who swiped gold from mean Etruscan orciuli.

  Would the pain of losing them ever diminish? And could she ever forgive them or understand why they’d never told her about the curse?

  Gabriel didn’t say anything. She knew he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t and, for that, she was grateful. She looked at him and found him watching her. So intently, she felt heat bubble in her stomach. “So, did you bring me in here just to let me look or do you have something to show me?”

  His grin reappeared, the one that made her stomach drop to her knees. “Let me get your grandfather’s journal. Maybe he’ll have some answers for you.”

  He walked to the wall behind them and climbed the library ladder nearly all the way to the ceiling. He stood there for at least thirty seconds looking at the spines before grabbing one and climbing back down.

  The book he held would have made Buffy’s Rupert Giles giggle with glee—a thick, leather-bound manuscript. But Buffy was fiction. This was the real deal.

  And this one had been written by her grandfather.

  “I’ve never read this,” Gabriel said. “Not sure anyone else has, either. The grigori aren’t required to keep journals. And if they do, they’re not supposed to mention the cursed streghe by name. But if Marcus wrote like he told stories, it’ll be a hell of a read.”

  She ran her hands over the cover, not opening it yet. She wanted Gabriel to talk more. Just the sound of his voice eased something inside her. “You knew him?”

  “Yeah, I got to meet him a few times. He died when I was around ten.”

  Which meant he’d been alive at her birth. She’d always assumed her grandparents were dead. Her parents had always talked as if they were. Still so much she didn’t know. “What was he like?”

  “He trained as a grigorio, but because his father was still alive and caring for his strega, Marcus became a soldier. He was Special Ops for the U.S. government for years. Fought in World War II. Then he raised two of the best grigori there have ever been.”

  She held onto the book but didn’t want Gabriel to stop talking just yet. “So my grandfather’s mother was a cursed strega?”

  “Yes.”

  “And my mother has a sister.”

  “Yep.”

  She sighed, feeling lost, as if she’d forgotten something she’d never known she needed and now couldn’t live without. “I feel like I’m trying to build a house without the blueprints.”

  Gabriel settled back in the chair and she relaxed. He wasn’t going anywhere yet. She wasn’t about to acknowledge, even to herself, how comforting that was. “Maybe your grandfather knows something about the curse.”

  She sighed. “That would be almost too easy, wouldn’t it?”

  He nodded, the dark strands of his hair falling over his shoulder and drawing her gaze. The
guy was just too damn gorgeous.

  “Yeah, probably,” Gabriel said.

  Shaking her head, she decided on another line of questioning. “So, how can you tell if you’re born grigori?”

  “If he’s born to one of the thirteen, it just comes with the deal,” Gabriel said. “If he’s born to a grigorio and a woman who isn’t one of the streghe, there are ways to tell. Enhanced strength, hearing and sight, the ability to manipulate metal. Your brother has the sight, a shitload of arus and the tocadura. Probably more powers we don’t yet know about. That’s why he needs to be trained.”

  She dropped her gaze to her grandfather’s journal as a chill whispered up her spine.

  Leo was only six.

  And I was four when Mom started my training.

  “Hey. Shea.” His quiet tone made her eyelids fall. “He needs to know.”

  She didn’t really have a choice, did she? She was unprepared for all of this, so in the dark. Even with all her dad had taught her, obviously it hadn’t been enough. And now she was responsible for Leo, too.

  Did she want Leo to grow up as oblivious as she had? She realized her parents had thought they were protecting her by not telling her about the curse. But she knew they’d made the wrong choice.

  She didn’t want Leo to be as clueless. Or hate her for withholding information.

  Didn’t want to lose him to Dario because he couldn’t defend himself.

  She raised her gaze to meet Gabriel’s and nodded. “Then I guess you should start.”

  * * *

  Gabriel left Shea in the library, nose stuck in her grandfather’s journal.

  He left because, if he didn’t, he would’ve sat there and watched her read.

  Ceffo.

  Instead, he walked over to the TV room and stood in the doorway, waiting until Leo and Quinn, side-by-side on the floor, finished their race.

  “Hey, kid. You kick Quinn’s a—butt?”

  Leo looked up at him with big, dark eyes, so much like Nino’s he couldn’t stifle the slash of pain before it managed to nick him in the heart. He covered his expression well enough, though, because Leo didn’t seem to notice.

  “He’s good.” Leo didn’t smile but his eyes brightened. “I’m better.”

  “You just wait.” Quinn dropped the controller and leaned back against the sofa. “I’ll get you next time.”

  Leo held out his controller to Gabriel. “Do you want to play?”

  Damn, the kid was too good to be true. Gabriel didn’t want to like him so much, but it was hard not to.

  “No, thanks. I’ve got another game we can play, though, if you want.”

  Leo’s expression turned eager and he scrambled to his feet, the top of his head barely reaching the bottom of Gabriel’s rib cage. “Did Sissy say it was okay?”

  Gabriel dismantled his smile in mid-formation. She’d taught the kid well. “Yeah, she did. Come on.”

  Leo padded after him like a puppy, Quinn bringing up the rear as they headed to a stairway hidden behind a door in the dining room. Flipping the switch for the lights at the bottom of the stairs, Gabriel led them up, smiling at Leo’s gasp as the room came into sight.

  “Wow. What is this?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

  Gabriel stood aside so Leo could walk into the open space. “This is a training room.”

  “For what?”

  “Guys like us.”

  Leo tore his gaze away from the sights to look at him. “Cool.”

  Quinn laughed as Gabriel nodded. “Very cool.”

  Overhead, skylights revealed the clear blue sky and illuminated the weapons lining the walls. Gabriel knew all their names, had been trained on all of them. Some were thousands of years old, like the double-edged gladius. Some were ceremonial, and some were experimental prototypes created by Digger and his father and grandfather.

  Leo started at the closest wall, examining the cinquedea, the short sword of the Roman gladiators; ran his finger over the shafts of the hasta and pilum. He spent some time staring at the round, razor-sharp chakram before moving onto the Indian tiger-claw blades.

  He walked halfway around the room before he stopped and reached for a matched pair of Malay kris. His hands already on the hilts of the blades, Leo turned to look at Gabriel. He never questioned instinct so he nodded.

  He let the kid remove them from the wall and hold them in his hands, getting a feel for them.

  “They’re called kris,” Gabriel said. “You want to learn how to use them?”

  Leo’s eyes widened. “Can I?”

  “Yeah, you can.” Gabriel squatted so he and Leo were eye-to-eye. “It’s time to find out what you can do, Leo. You up for it?”

  He nodded, his expression becoming serious. “Daddy said I had to be ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “To protect Shea.”

  Christ, that was a hell of a lot of responsibility to put on a child’s shoulders, even one as powerful as Leo. But then, Shea was a special case.

  “Did he tell you anything else, Leo? About your powers?”

  Leo shrugged, his gaze dropping to the weapons in his hands. “Sometimes they scare me.”

  Gabriel put his arms around the kid’s shoulders before he even thought about what he was doing. “You don’t have to be scared anymore, Leo. I’m gonna teach you how to control them. Okay?”

  The little boy nodded but didn’t lift his gaze.

  “Did your dad tell you anything else? About what you can do?”

  Now Leo looked up and Gabriel saw something hard flash through the boy’s eyes. “He said Sissy would come for me and we’d have to take care of each other.”

  “Well, Quinn and I are here to help you with that now. So…you want to get started?”

  When Leo nodded, Gabriel set him on his feet and waved Leo onto the mats in the center of the room. “Quinn’ll get you going. I’ve got a call to make first.”

  He had Quinn start Leo on stretches before taking him through some simple moves with the blades. Gabriel made sure they were okay before he headed for an alcove at the rear. He picked up the old-fashioned black receiver, turned a few numbers on the rotary dial and waited until he heard Phil ask, “Party, please?”

  “Matteo Michael Tedaldi, Las Vegas.”

  Phil paused before answering. “That may take a few hours, Gabriel. I will call you back at this extension when I’ve reached your party.”

  He caught her just before she disconnected him. “I need another connection. Crimson Moon Productions.”

  “Please hold and I’ll connect you.”

  Serena answered on the fourth ring.

  “Gabriel, is everything all right?”

  He paused, hearing the careful way she tried to hide the slur in her voice. Shit, his mom was drunk. And according to his sisters, that was never a good sign. “Yeah, we’re all fine. Quinn got here this morning.” He decided against telling her about Quinn’s accident. She’d be able to handle that better when she was sober. “But I’ve decided we need to split up. I want to take Shea to Maddie after we bring the boy up to you. I’m going to call Matt in from Vegas for Leo. The kid’s strong. Really strong.”

  Serena fell silent and he knew she was biting her bottom lip, thinking it over, trying to look at it from all angles. Damn, Mom…

  After at least thirty seconds, she said, “I’ll speak to Maddie, tell her to expect your call.”

  “We’re going to move out after I hear from Matt, hopefully later today. We’ll wait for Matt to arrive before Shea and I head to Louisiana.”

  “You appear to have this all figured out.”

  “Yeah well, I learned from the best.”

  She chuckled, but it had a shaky sound to it. “Stay safe, Gabriel.”

  “Hey. You okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well. Stay safe.”

  * * *

  Serena’s head throbbed with a hangover and a vague sense of impending doom.

  Looking at the bedside c
lock, she realized it was three in the afternoon. Dribbles of light seeped through the cracks where the curtains met the sill. Her mouth tasted like she’d eaten a whole bag of sour cream and onion chips and her throat was parched.

  Groaning, she sat up and eased her legs over the side of the bed. The room spun around her for a few seconds before she got her feet on the ground.

  She couldn’t remember coming back to bed. She hadn’t had a binge like that in years—

  Quinn. She’d talked to Quinn last night.

  Her temples pounded and her stomach rolled as their conversation came rushing back. Served her right. She’d said things to Quinn she’d never meant to say. Things he’d make her pay for the next time she saw him.

  Because nothing had changed. Even though she’d told him how she felt, it didn’t change the facts.

  She couldn’t be with him.

  Losing her husband Nicolo five-hundred years ago had devastated her. But she’d had two teenage daughters to care for and they’d been on the run.

  She still remembered that awful night in vivid detail, sometimes relived it in her dreams. After they’d burned Dafne, the villagers—men and women they’d grown up with and cared for for years—had stolen into their homes, slit the throats of the streghe and every member of their families then had carried the bodies to a mass grave.

  She’d never forget the terror of her daughters’ muffled screams, the sensation of the dirt pouring down on their bodies. The blackness in the pit, buried alive.

  Her lungs starved for air as she clawed her way out from under the dirt. Frantically digging for her daughters. Seeing the horror in her sixteen-year-old children’s eyes.

  She hadn’t believed. Not until that moment, when their bodies healed what should have been Fatal wounds, that they had truly been cursed. She hadn’t believed and her husband had paid with his life, along with all the other streghe husbands and children not of the boschetta.

  Bending at the waist, she took deep breaths, waiting for the nausea to recede. For the sounds to fade from her memory.

  But the pain of losing Niccolo would never fade.

  The second time she’d found him, his soul had been reincarnated three hundred years later as Charles Smithson, a farmer in 1820s New England. Losing Charles had hurt just as much as losing Niccolo.