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

by Opal Carew

  Sure. This would be just fine. Ever since she’d decided she might have to care for a tiny baby, a heavy sense of responsibility had dropped on her shoulders. Now it lifted. She straightened up and pushed herself away from the cold wall.

  Time to find this guy.

  Creeping further into the alley, she scanned the edges of the clutter lining the path. Garbage cans. Cardboard boxes. Wooden crates.

  The glint of tanned skin caught her gaze and she focused on a figure slumped on the ground behind a box. She hurried toward him and stopped about a yard away. What should she do now? This was definitely the person she’d been seeking. She sensed confused thoughts skimming the surface of his mind. Not quite conscious. She stepped forward and touched his shoulder.

  A fierce growl startled her and she leaped backward. He bolted to his feet as he swung around to face her. Her gaze followed his piercing eyes as he reached full height. In her peripheral vision, she saw his hand shoot to his hip. He tried to grasp something. A sword? That’s what his surface thoughts revealed. How odd. A slightly puzzled expression flickered across his face, then disappeared. Hidden behind a shield of keen intelligence.

  Her breathing slowed as they stared at one another. She could almost believe he was an ancient warrior displaced in time. He emanated a strong aura of power. His hair, dark and untamed, swept back from his face and tumbled over strong, broad--and very naked--shoulders.

  Naked?

  She allowed her gaze to continue down his firmly muscled chest past his waist. She quickly became cognizant of two startling facts. One, he was a fully mature adult male. Two, he was completely naked.

  Good heavens, how did she get into these predicaments?

  As her skin pebbled, she realized his gaze had started to wander, too. The edges of his mouth quirked up in a smile and a glimmer softened his granite eyes. Lucinda suddenly remembered her attire--or lack thereof. A scrap of satin and lace.

  He took a step forward and she jerked backwards, losing any facade of coolness she’d managed to present up to now. He stopped and studied her thoughtfully.

  Her gaze kept drifting down his chest, along the lightly furred arrow that conveniently pointed to the more interesting feature of the male anatomy. Especially in this man’s case.

  Yipes, don’t look there, she told herself. Yeah, right. That’s like telling yourself not to look at the Eiffel Tower when it’s standing right in front of you. And, right at this moment, the object of her discomfort stood as tall as that landmark.

  Forcing her gaze to meet his, she felt herself drawn into some strange, dark depths. Something about him frightened her--but intrigued her even more. She stepped back, but he reached out and clasped her hand. His body pulsed with suppressed energy, yet his touch felt gentle, coaxing.

  What’s going on? I’m a full-fledged, tenth level wizard. I should be in control here.

  She tugged her hand free, folded her arms over her chest, and scowled at him. What was it about this guy that threw her off so badly?

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  He shook his head and said something she didn’t understand.

  Of course, that shouldn’t surprise her. The fact she had transported to France should have tipped her off that he probably didn’t speak English. Since her French was rusty at best--so rusty she hadn’t understood a word he’d said--she decided to use a spell to help them break the communication barrier.

  She held up one finger to indicate he should wait a moment, then she visualized him talking to her in her own language, comfortably and naturally, as if he’d been speaking it for years. Then she pointed her finger at him and spoke a quick incantation.

  “I’d like you to speak English now,

  At the snap of my fingers you’ll know how.”

  She snapped her fingers. As the energy pulsed through him, he blinked a couple of times, then stared at her expectantly.

  She repeated her question. “Who are you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He spoke the words in a deep, resonant voice, without a trace of an accent. Her spell had worked quite nicely. After congratulating herself on her handiwork, the meaning of his words sank in.

  “You don’t know? Do you remember your name?”

  “No. I remember nothing at all.”

  He spoke those words calmly and with supreme control. Which surprised her under the circumstances.

  How could he be so confident? It was as though her self-assurance had seeped out of her and into him. Doubts flashed through her mind and skittered along her nerve endings.

  Gently, he grasped her hands as though he didn’t want her to escape. The feel of his fingers wrapped around hers again sent a pulse of awareness shooting through her. An awareness of him as a man. Of her as a woman. Of his bare flesh so close to hers. A wild urge to touch him, to run her fingers down his chest--then lower--coursed through her.

  She drew in a deep breath, trying to calm her uneven heartbeat. No man had ever affected her like this.

  This is what a Love Bond should feel like.

  The renegade thought careened through her mind but she brushed it aside. What she felt was just the excitement of the situation. She was destined to bond with Rand, not this stranger.

  “And who are you?” he asked.

  His words melted through her, warm and persuasive.

  “I’m... uh... .” She groped desperately through the fog surrounding her memory for her name. “Divine.”

  His gaze swept down and up her diminutive frame and swirled around her face. He smiled, one of those delightful half smiles that could steal a girl’s heart. His face came alive with shimmering attractiveness and Lucinda realized that smile could become addictive.

  “Yes, you are that,” he said.

  “What?” She realized he referred to her last name and cleared her throat. “Uh... no, I mean my name is Divine. Lucinda Divine.”

  His smile broadened and he curled his fingers around her hand, then lifted it. Very slowly.

  She watched his lips descend with great concentration, having a long internal chat with herself. She really shouldn’t let this tall, devastatingly attractive man touch her this way. She should take control of the situation and tug her hand out of the way of his wonderfully full, sexy mouth.

  She licked her lips in anticipation. Yes, she really should pull away. His lips touched the back of her hand lightly, and her eyelids drifted closed. Tingles danced up her arm and through her chest. They seemed to kick-start her heart into a frenzy of activity as it fluttered within her ribs like a caged bird. Oh, Lord, she felt like she was going to melt into a sticky little puddle on the ground. She couldn’t help imagining he was kissing her mouth instead, his lips savoring the contact with a sweet sense of purpose, gently persuading her to open. The thought of his tongue lightly probing the inside of her mouth sent shivers through her, followed quickly by panic.

  It wasn’t that she’d never made love with a man--though she hadn’t. It was just that this man was totally naked, totally devastating to her senses, and totally not what she’d expected. With all the will she could muster, she expended the great amount of energy required to move back the fraction of an inch needed to separate her hand from his lips.

  “I... uh... .” What was wrong with her? She’d never been at a loss for words before and certainly never been bowled over by a man. After all, as a three-hundred-year old virgin, she had certainly learned to say no.

  And it wasn’t that she was tied up in some old-fashioned sense of morals or anything like that, it was just that she was very confused. Mentally, she shook her head, trying to get her thoughts to fall into some coherent order. A wizard only experiences one mentor relationship, yet she had received The Call to be this man’s mentor--an event which was totally unprecedented in the wizard community. Mentors and students were destined to form a Love Bond, but she couldn’t be bonded to two men, and Rand was her mentor, and her first loyalty.

  When she’d asked other female wiza
rds about their Love Bonds, they’d told her when she was with her intended, the resonance between them would send a ringing note of such clarity through her mind that there would be no doubt they were meant to be together. This hadn’t happened with Rand yet, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t. So why was it that, right now, the inside of her head felt like St. Paul’s Cathedral on Christmas morning? And her thoughts were anything but pious.

  “I... expected you to be a teenager,” she said.

  One of his eyebrows arched high. “Oh, you like younger men?”

  “No, I mean... Really, I was hoping for a baby.”

  He pulled her close and leaned toward her with a wicked gleam in his eyes, sending her hormones into hyper-drive. “If that’s what you want... .”

  His intent was only too clear. Her womb tightened at the erotic thought of touching his Eiffel Tower--er, erection. Of stroking it, feeling the intense heat of it, and then sliding it inside her. Quickly, she got control of herself and flattened her palms against his chest. His springy hair curled around her fingers, tickling the sensitive inner flesh. She tried to ignore the delightful sensation.

  “No!” Lucinda cried out in desperation. “I mean, I came here to help you. You... just aren’t what I expected.”

  She heard voices and knew she had to get him out of here before he was discovered in all his naked glory. “We’ve got to go.” Worried about his reaction if she transported them without warning, she explained, “I can work magic and--”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Surprised, she gazed up at him. “You do?”

  He stroked her cheek with his fingertip. “You’ve already worked magic on me.”

  She gulped and mumbled some words so automatically they didn’t even reach her conscious mind. Then they stood in her living room.

  She shrugged. “I’m a wizard,” she explained, surprised that he wasn’t even fazed by the change of scene around them.

  His superb physical form dominated her living room. Suddenly, his nakedness seemed even more intense and the situation felt far too intimate.

  To preserve her own peace of mind, she turned away from him and swept her hands through the air.

  “Assemble clothes for this man

  as fast as you can.

  To cover all that now shows

  from his neck to his toes.”

  She jabbed her finger toward the large armchair across from the couch and a stack of clothes appeared. Socks, underwear, pants, and a pullover sweater, all in black. Odd. Her choice would have been more colorful.

  Without turning back to look at him, unwilling to expose herself to the temptation of his bronzed, sexy body, she headed for the kitchen. “Put those on and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with some tea.”

  She pushed open the door and marched into the kitchen. Merlin opened one green eye to stare at her as she strode past him towards the sink.

  “What are you doing on the table?” she demanded, eyeing the munched remains of lilac blossoms lying on her stack of mail.

  He raised his head and yawned, the pink of his tongue and the jagged row of white teeth a sharp contrast to his black fur. He mewed in his bored fashion as she plopped the kettle on the counter and plugged it in.

  “What do you mean I’m a more entertaining hostess than usual tonight?”

  He mewed again and she felt a shiver down her spine. “Cold?” She glanced down at herself and felt her face burn. She still wore only the skimpy lingerie. Closing her eyes, she summoned her robe from the closet in her bedroom. Once she had it securely tied around her waist, she glared at Merlin, then unplugged the boiling kettle.

  When she returned to the living room ten minutes later with a tray loaded down with tea paraphernalia and muffins, her guest was just pulling the last article of clothing on, pushing his arms into the long, black sleeves of the sweater, and then rolling the fabric down that broad, muscular chest of his. As she stood watching him, yearning wrenched her insides. Her teeth tugged on her bottom lip as she wished her fingers followed the edge of the sweater sliding over his pectoral muscles, down his flat stomach, and finally over his navel. Then all that wonderful, hard male flesh was hidden.

  “Something wrong?”

  His strong, masculine voice broke her concentration and her gaze flicked to his. Amusement glittered in his eyes and she realized he’d been watching her appreciative appraisal. She released her bottom lip and straightened her back.

  “No, of course not. I’m glad to see that the clothes fit.”

  “I had no doubt they would. You seem quite efficient.”

  “Thank you.”

  With his glossy black hair and midnight eyes, the black clothes suited him. It was as though the magic had been affected by what he would have chosen. In fact, it seemed almost sinful to consider putting anything else on him. Her gaze traveled the length of him, critically inspecting the black, cable-knit sweater and the long black jeans. Even though the clothes were modern, he looked like a dark knight from an ancient time. An aura of strength and power surrounded him. All he needed were high boots and a long cape to complete the ensemble.

  She stepped forward and placed the tray on the coffee table in front of him, then poured them each a cup. Settling into the armchair, wanting to keep a reasonable distance between them, she regarded him thoughtfully.

  “You said you don’t know who you are. What exactly do you mean by that?”

  “I don’t know where I was when you found me or how I got there, and I don’t know where this is.” His hands swept up to indicate their surroundings.

  “This is my home in Ottawa. I found you in an alley in Paris, but I have no idea how you got there. Do you know your name?”

  “No.”

  “It doesn’t seem to bother you much.”

  He grinned and rose from the couch, reaching out to take her hands. “I seem to be in very capable hands.” He pulled her from her seat and put his lips against her palm, sending a vibration of awareness through her. “In fact, very soft, gentle hands. I’m sure whatever my situation was before, it couldn’t be better than this.”

  His words, leaving his mouth as whispery puffs of air against her skin, sent shivers across her shoulders and down her spine. She wanted to step forward and melt into his arms, to press her body into his until nothing could come between them, to reach up and tease the bottom of his chin with her lips. She blinked several times, trying to clear her head. For heaven’s sake, she didn’t even know him.

  Why did she feel this way?

  “I sense your uneasiness. Surely you feel, as I do, that we are destined to be together?”

  Destined to be together? Did he believe they would form a Love Bond?

  As soon as she realized a slight hope stirred within her, she stomped it down. This man knew nothing of Love Bonds. He was simply exercising his masculine charm on an available female.

  Damn. Nothing about this situation was normal. Not the fact she’d received The Call to be a mentor. Not the fact she felt this undeniable attraction to this man--given that Rand was her mentor. Why did nothing in her life ever proceed along normal lines?

  Rand was the one she should feel this way about.

  She could not allow the relationship with this new wizard to develop into anything more than teacher and student.

  He tilted her head up with one finger and his granite eyes stared into hers. “I may not know myself, but my soul knows you, and it is clear we are meant to be one.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “So cautious, little one. Why are you afraid to let me get close?”

  Little one? He’d called her little one! Randalph called her that, but he’d been in her life for longer than she could remember and she wanted, and needed, the affection they shared.

  But this man was a stranger. “I don’t know you.”

  “I’d like to change that.”

  She sidestepped him. “Look, do you want my help?”

  He inclined his head.
“I would be honored.”

  “Fine. Then kindly stop pushing me.” She sent him her most authoritative stare--and saw the glitter of amusement in his dark eyes. She pushed aside her annoyance and went on to explain. “As I told you, I’m a wizard. I was drawn to you--”

  “As I am to you.”

  She sent him a piercing glare. “What I’m saying is, I was called to help you.”

  His eyebrows arched. “By whom?”

  She paused, taken aback by the question. “Umm. It’s not like that. It’s a... .” She waved her hands, searching for words to explain. “... a wizard thing. When a new wizard is born, an established wizard is linked psychically to that child. We don’t understand how it happens, it just does. The older wizard keeps tabs on the child until he or she is ready for training. That happens at puberty when the change in hormones triggers the ability to control magic.” She searched his expression. “That’s why I expected you to be a baby. Except that I sensed your magical ability to be quite advanced. I had wondered if something had gone wrong and our link wasn’t forged until you were already in your teenage years. It came as a complete shock that you are a full-grown man.”

  “Have you had many such links?”

  “No, you’re my first.” At least, as mentor.

  “Good.” He looked so self-satisfied that she suspected he’d taken her answer to mean something different.

  “Well, no matter why this has happened, you need my help and I will help you all I can. But right now we’re both tired. I think we should go to bed.”

  His smile broadened. “Excellent suggestion.”

  Intimate muscles twitched inside her at the obvious meaning of his words.

  He reached out to take her hand, but she quickly stepped out of reach. “This way.” She led him up the stairs to the second door on the right. She turned the knob and pushed the door open.

  The lightening sky visible through the window, along with the musical twittering of birds, made her realize just how late it was. Or rather, how early. She glanced at the bedside clock. Five seventeen. It would soon be full daylight.

  She stepped to the window and drew the blinds closed, leaving the room in darkness except for the light glowing from the hallway. His shadow loomed over her and she started to turn, but one of his hands closed over her shoulder while the other swept her long hair to one side. His lips caressed the nape of her neck. It felt as though she stood in a warm pond with cold water trickling down her spine. She almost gasped at the sensual pleasure as his breath sent loose tendrils of hair at the back of her neck fluttering. His mouth edged up to nuzzle behind her ear. The cold trickle down her back warmed, and the warm pond encompassing her body cooled. He nipped her earlobe and the sensations bombarding her seemed to collide and realign in unrecognizable patterns.