Dark and Deadly: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance

by Ashley Jennifer

  She gave him an aggravated look. “Are you afraid I’ll think you’re a sissy if you lean on me?”

  Arrogance gleamed in his amused glance. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  “Spoken like a man.”

  “And I am not a man.”

  There was no missing the anger in those words. Nor could she miss the disappointment that lodged somewhere beneath her breastbone. For reasons she didn’t want to analyze, his denial of humanity hadn’t bothered her nearly as much as that one.

  “Are you also immune to pain?” she asked sweetly.

  He hesitated before letting loose a soft, annoyed sigh. He shook his head.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  When they reached the SUV, he leaned against the side while Lilly opened the hatch for the dogs. Dutifully, they jumped in and made themselves comfortable on their blankets. Even Belle, though she had to be asked twice. Harley waited to be lifted like the royalty he thought himself to be. She closed them in and moved to stand in front of Alex.

  He looked pale and sweat beaded his brow. He scanned the gloaming with worried eyes. His tension coiled around her.

  “What’s going on, Alex? Do you hear something?”

  He considered his answer. She could almost see him moving the words around in his head as he searched for the right order.

  “Bad things,” he said at last, his voice gruff, low. “They’re coming.”

  “I’d say they’re already here.”

  He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “You mean things worse than hellhounds?”

  She hadn’t said it loudly, but the cold seemed to ride her question, making it whip around them. She felt the echo, the frosty bite of fear. The sound of a stone bouncing down a rock-strewn hill made them both face the textured darkness. It had gathered into a tight cocoon over the landscape.

  “Got any bullets left in that rifle?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “There’s some in the glove box, though.”

  He narrowed his eyes at something she couldn’t see. “You won’t make it.”

  He’d said it so softly, she thought she’d misheard until a man stepped out of the trees. For a second, she was relieved. A man she could see had to be better than hellhounds she couldn’t, but then she noticed the machete he gripped in his hands. He didn’t lower it when he saw them.

  “Do you know this guy?” she whispered.

  Alex nodded, but he wasn’t glad to see the newcomer. He straightened, hiding his weakness and injuries with a stiff spine. He didn’t reach for his weapon, but she’d seen how quickly he could draw it. In the chilled silence, he watched the man approach. There might be recognition in his expression, but Lilly saw no welcome.

  “Where is Caleb?” the stranger demanded.

  “Dead,” Alex answered.

  The stranger cut his eyes to Lilly. In the SUV, five dogs barked fiercely and frantically, clawing at the glass and making it muddy with dirt and saliva. Could she make it back to open the hatch before this stranger…what? Chopped her in half with his machete? Is that what she expected him to do? For all she felt inexplicably safe with Alex, this new man…not so much.

  “Thank you for aiding my friend,” he said in a kindly voice.

  Beside her, Alex stiffened, as if a threat had come hidden inside the hollow words of gratitude.

  “Anyone would have helped him,” she answered cautiously.

  “You weren’t afraid?” the stranger asked.

  Lilly glanced at Alex’s drawn face, trying to read the undercurrents of the conversation. But Alex didn’t look at her and his expression gave nothing away.

  “Of course I was afraid. Only a fool wouldn’t be.”

  That seemed to amuse the other man. “I imagine you saw things that you thought only lived in nightmares,” he went on.

  She kept her breath steady, but her pulse hammered out of control. Hidden mines lay waiting in this innocuous exchange. Like the hellhounds, she could feel them, even if she couldn’t see them.

  “What do you mean?”

  The question startled him and she felt the apprehension in Alex escalate. She hoped her expression looked as emotionless as his, but beneath the surface, panic ricocheted inside her. Alex shifted his weight away from her and, so calmly she almost didn’t realize what he was doing, he positioned himself slightly in front of her.

  “Does she know the consequences of helping you?” the stranger asked Alex with concern that felt empty in the frosted twilight.

  “She found me after it went down, Jared,” Alex answered evenly. “There will be no consequences. She saw nothing. She did nothing wrong.”

  “But she will,” the stranger said.

  The certainty in his voice stroked Lilly’s fear and trembled through her limbs. What consequences? What wrong did they expect her to do? It took everything not to blurt the questions, but Lilly felt the foreboding in the air and knew that anything she said would be dangerous. Alex had told her humans weren’t meant to know about hellhounds. Lilly was smart enough to guess he’d understated the situation.

  “She will talk, Alex,” the man called Jared said. “She’s human. She won’t be able to help herself.”

  Denying that she had anything to talk about seemed pointless. This man had made up his mind. Everything in his tone, in his demeanor, in his expression told her that. But saying nothing implied guilt.

  “Finding an injured man and helping him is hardly breaking news,” she said.

  Jared smiled. “But that’s not all you found, is it?”

  She should have stuck with the guilty silence.

  “Have you ever heard of Abaddon?” Jared asked.

  “No.”

  “But you’re familiar with hell?”

  “I might have heard of that one.”

  “And the devil? You know him?”

  Her mouth was dry and her fingers shook. “Not personally.”

  He smiled, as if her answer had pleased him. She glanced at Alex from the corner of her eye. He looked pale and the snow clinging to his coat turned pink before it melted, but if he was in pain, he didn’t show it. He stood straight, his gaze steady.

  “Leave her alone, Jared,” Alex said.

  Jared ignored him.

  “Abaddon is the devil’s devil. He’s what demons fear.”

  Lilly took a shallow breath, hoping he couldn’t hear the dread rasping through it. “Glad I don’t know him, then.”

  “Yes. You should be very glad. Hellhounds are the work of Abaddon.”

  Lilly knew her laugh would sound forced and denial would ring false, but he was watching her reactions and she couldn’t pull off the stony countenance Alex had mastered.

  “Interesting,” she said with as much detachment as she could muster. “But I’ve never heard of Abaddon and I don’t believe in the devil or hellhounds.”

  “I would’ve thought seeing was believing,” Jared said.

  “Maybe it is. If I see one or the other, I’ll let you know.”

  His eyes narrowed. That was the only clue Lilly had that Jared meant to attack. Alex had seen it coming, though.

  Alex moved swiftly, shoving her out of the way. She fell to the hard, cold ground just as a machete hissed through the air where her head would have been. She rolled as the stranger swung again, hacking down at where she lay. Alex met the man head on, weapon ready, blocking the blow. Lilly saw the flash of his tarnished eyes a moment before Alex slammed into the stranger and both men crashed into the Range Rover.

  “Get in the car, Lilly,” Alex shouted. “Go. Get out of here.”

  On hands and knees, Lilly scrambled around the front end of the SUV and stumbled to her feet. Inside the cargo area, the dogs barked like maniacs and scratched at the windows, racing from one to another and testing the strength of the mesh barrier that kept them confined. Her heart pounded like a damn war drum as she fumbled her keys from her pocket, slipping and skidding on the icy surface.

  She chanced a look
back. Alex fought for his life against his bigger, uninjured opponent.

  Fought for his life and hers.

  Against one of his own.

  The magnitude of that hit Lilly in waves as she wrenched open the driver’s door, tossed the rifle in first, and flung herself in after it. She shut the door and locked it before she popped the glove box open and snatched the shells out. Her fingers shook as she reloaded.

  The snow was coming down in droves now, so thick and blustery that she couldn’t see through it. Alex and Jared were blurry shapes in the pelting blizzard. What now? Drive off? Leave the man who’d helped her?

  The dogs had steamed the windows. The sound of them in the enclosed space made her want to clap her hands over her ears. Bodies banged into the vehicle, rocking it.

  Lilly revved the engine but she couldn’t see behind her to reverse, couldn’t go straight ahead unless she wanted to ram the SUV into the boulder. She could try a U-turn, but what if she hit them?

  “Screw it,” she said and opened her door, coming around with the rifle locked and loaded. Jared had Alex pinned against the Range Rover, a short, lethal knife at his throat.

  “Let him go,” Lilly said in her best Clint Eastwood voice.

  The stranger didn’t even look up.

  “Let him go or I start shooting. I may not look like much, but I killed two hellhounds I couldn’t even see.”

  The words banked against the seething hostility and created a blockade that couldn’t be ignored. She knew she’d just confessed to something this man considered a crime, but she also knew he’d already condemned her. She stared down the barrel and fired a warning shot that whizzed past his head and into the forest behind them.

  The stranger hadn’t expected it, but Alex had seen her in action and was ready. He slammed his forehead into Jared’s nose, gaining enough distance between them to bring his machete around. The blade sank deep into the stranger’s chest. Jared looked down, stunned—by the pain or the reality, Lilly didn’t know. A wobbling step back landed him in a deep drift. His knees gave and he sank.

  Alex followed Jared, his expression hard as he leaned down to pull the machete out. He wiped the blade on the other man’s sleeve and spat blood in the snow beside him.

  Coldly, he said, “The rules don’t apply to her.”

  His legs were unsteady when he faced Lilly again.

  “Is he dead?” she whispered, looking on with wide eyes.

  “As good as.”

  Alex hesitated and Lilly looked up in alarm. Was he going to stab him in the heart and chop off his head now? He swayed again, blinking in the driving snow. Even if he wanted to, he obviously lacked the strength. Lilly rushed around to the passenger side and opened the door.

  “Get in, Alex,” she said, trying not to think of the man dying in the cold. The man who’d meant to kill her. Both of them.

  Alex didn’t move. Blood dripped from a new wound on his forehead. His cheek was swollen, his eye puffy and bruised.

  “I can’t go with you, Lilly. More like him will be coming. For me.”

  And for her, if she was still with Alex. She heard it in his voice, saw it in those startling eyes.

  “I won’t leave you to die,” she said.

  “If you don’t leave me, you will die.”

  “So far I’ve managed to hold my own,” she told him. “Don’t make me shoot you, Alex. Get in.”

  He tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace.

  “Get in,” she repeated, using the rifle to point for good measure.

  Alex stared at her for a long moment without speaking. Confusion, respect, disbelief—all of it glimmered in his On-Golden-Pond eyes. He shook his head.

  “Humans,” he said with a hint of disgust.

  But he got in.

  CHAPTER 4

  Alex might be hard to break, but he’d sustained some serious wounds, first from the hellhounds and then from his friend. By the time Lilly pulled up in front of her sister’s cabin, his skin was ashen and his eyes dull. He was conscious enough to help her get him out of the vehicle, but Lilly had to manhandle him through the front door and onto the bench just inside. He faded in and out as she worked him out of boots and coat, trying to figure out what she should do next.

  The cabin didn’t have a wired phone and her cell kept searching but couldn’t find a signal. Whistler Valley was a forty-five-minute drive in clear weather. She’d never make it in the storm that buffeted the SUV and dumped snow and ice on top of them. The short drive to the cabin had been harrowing.

  She eyed Alex worriedly. She didn’t know how much of the blood covering him was his or if he had more serious injuries beneath the skin.

  Frustrated, she surveyed her rustic surroundings. The cabin didn’t try to be more than its name. It had a kitchen, a sitting room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Amy had furnished it and Lilly hadn’t had the heart to change anything about it after she’d died.

  Behind her was the front room, dominated by an overstuffed couch and chair with a battered coffee table between them. A comfortable layer of chaos covered everything. Amy’s laptop, tablet, magazines, and books cluttered the table. A blanket was wadded up at the foot of the couch, Amy’s slippers beneath it, just where she’d left them.

  The fireplace’s massive stone surround stretched wall-to-wall with various built-in nooks of different sizes. Amy had used the space for books and snapshots of her dogs. Before her death, she’d added a framed picture of herself with her long-lost sister, Lilly. It held the place of honor on the mantel and it broke Lilly’s heart every time she saw it. They’d had so little time together.

  Lilly sighed and looked back at the wounded man. He sat on the bench, head lolled back against the wall and eyes closed. She needed to move him to the couch, where he could lie down and she could attempt to patch him up.

  “Alex,” she said, but his eyes didn’t open. “Come on, Alex. Stand up. Let’s get you to the couch and then you can rest.”

  His eyes opened, but they were unfocused. Knowing she might not get more than that out of him, she sat beside him, slung his arm over her shoulder, and stood, forcing him up with her. He weighed a ton, and she’d never have succeeded if he hadn’t roused enough to help. They danced an awkward tango across the floor, listing from side to side. The dogs helped, which meant they made every effort to trip them both. By the time they reached the couch, she could do little more than maneuver and push. He collapsed in a heap on the big, soft cushions.

  “You still with me?” she asked as she swung his legs up.

  She didn’t expect an answer, but he muttered, “Not dead, if that’s what you mean.”

  Pretty much exactly what she’d meant. She hurried back to the front door and locked it, checking the deadbolt twice. Alex gave a dry laugh.

  “That won’t stop anything.”

  “Shut up,” she said.

  In seconds, she had a fire going and some water boiling. She hung her coat on the hook next to Alex’s and shoved her boots under the bench beside his. It made her pause, the sight of the pairs. Like they belonged together. She tried to ignore the longing that sparked from nowhere. She didn’t know this man and he certainly wasn’t the mate to her North Face boots. According to him, he wasn’t even human. With a scowl, she pulled Amy’s impressive first aid kit out of the closet and set it on the table in front of him.

  Blood soaked his flannel shirt and carefully, she stripped him of it. He helped with silent and grim determination, never looking away from her face as she revealed a broad, muscled chest, strong arms, and flat abdomen. Necessary or not, she felt awkward with her fingers at his fly, more so when he lifted his hips so she could pull off his pants to give her access to the wound on this thigh. It was impossible not to notice the ripple of muscle, the strip of flesh between his belly button and the elastic of his briefs. A dark arrow of silky hair drew her eyes downward.

  He might not be human…he might not even consider himself a man…but he sure as hell looked like one to
Lilly.

  She glanced at his face. His eyes were shut, his breathing deep.

  A large, angry bite stood out on his ribs. Gently, she cleaned the wound with hot water and a soft cloth before putting disinfectant and a bandage over it. Blood had splattered his abdomen, and with perhaps a little more attention to detail than needed, she cleaned that, too, smoothing the supple skin with her fingertips.

  She glanced up again and found him watching her. Her hand rested against his belly, where it had no business being. Blushing so hard it hurt, she snatched it away.

  “You said you weren’t a man,” she exclaimed and then wanted to cover her head with a blanket and die.

  “Never said I wasn’t male,” he answered darkly and closed his eyes again. “Give me a couple of hours and I’ll prove it.”

  Lilly stared at him, mouth open, a whole host of conflict in her chest. She cleared her throat. “That won’t be necessary,” she said primly.

  He gave a soft, rumbling laugh that made him groan.

  After that, Lilly kept her hands busy in more appropriate ways.

  She worked methodically, cleaning all his wounds before she bandaged them. She was no doctor, but she’d learned fundamental first aid around the same time she’d learned to shoot—after her adopted parents had been murdered in their home when she was seventeen.

  His arm was the worst of the wounds and probably the source of all the blood. Bites and bruises covered it, and she worried that he needed stitches, but that was more than she could do. She used butterfly bandages instead and wrapped it twice with gauze.

  She was exhausted by the time she finished. Standing, she stretched the tight muscles in her neck and back before moving to the window. Snow dropped from the sky in a thick blanket that showed no signs of easing. Even if it stopped during the night, they would be stranded for days.

  At least their tracks would be covered. Anyone who tried to find them would be left without a trail to follow.

  Relieved, she took a shower, washing away the stench of fear and the splatter of blood. Clean and too tired to do anything else, Lilly added wood to the fire, curled up in the chair next to the couch where Alex lay, and closed her eyes. She was asleep in minutes.