Gifted - The 5 Book Paranormal Romance Box Set

by Amira Rain

  "Well, I think you continuing to repeat some delusion or sick joke about me being pregnant with your child is disrespectful."

  "Well, I have to respectfully disagree with you about that, Lauren, because what I've said to you isn't a delusion and it certainly isn't a joke. It's the truth. We'll speak about it more later, though. Not now."

  Stoking the fires of my anger, he'd uttered those last two words with the commanding sort of tone I'd just been speaking about.

  Gritting my teeth, I further tightened my arms across my chest. "Fine. Well, here's another way you've been speaking to me disrespectfully, then. You keep calling me by my first name, which I don't even know how you know, when I've never specifically given you permission to. The respectful thing to do would be to call me Miss Grant until I've specifically invited you to call me by my first name."

  "Fair enough. I'll address you as Miss Grant, then, pending first name invitation. In the meantime, you may address me as Commander Marlowe, which is how most people here in New Bad Axe address me."

  "Great. That's just fine."

  Looking into each other's eyes in the warm, reddish light of the hurricane lamps, we both fell silent, and I suddenly realized we were standing very close, far too close for my comfort. We were only separated by seven or eight inches, if that. Close enough for me to catch just the faintest whiff of Cole's scent, which was something woodsy and masculine, with possible notes of leather and soap, the scent as a whole just as devastatingly attractive as Cole's chiseled physique and impossibly handsome face.

  It seemed that somehow, while we'd been speaking, we'd been creeping closer to each other, inch by inch. Or I had crept closer to him, or he had crept closer to me; I really wasn't sure. All I knew was that I felt like I needed to immediately back the hell away from him, so I did, reversing with a fairly large step, suddenly wondering if he'd been mind-controlling me to get closer to him with his sorcery or something. I wanted to ask, but for one thing, I found the thought of doing so embarrassing for some reason, and for another thing, I wasn't confident he'd tell me the truth anyway.

  Instead, I just pulled my gaze from his strong-jawed face and looked down a dimly-lit hallway adjacent to the grand staircase. "I think I'm ready to continue on the tour, Commander Marlowe." I'd emphasized his official title to make clear that I wanted to have nothing but formal verbal exchanges with him.

  Dipping his head in a nod, he began heading toward the hallway. "All right, Miss Grant. Follow me."

  I did, but not before having seen an inexplicable little glint in his eyes when he'd said Miss Grant. It had honestly looked like a little glint of amusement, though I couldn't fathom why that would be. Maybe Cole was inwardly laughing about how suddenly informal things were going to become between us at some point in the future, when he inevitably attacked me, which I was still fairly sure was his plan, because it only made sense. I couldn't think of any other reason why he might have kidnapped me, other than to use my body for his own pleasure.

  All I knew was that he was clearly dangerous. Dangerous on a level of being attractive enough to make me periodically drop my guard around him against my will, but also just dangerous dangerous. Despite what he'd said about not hitting me, I had no doubt that he had the potential to become brutally violent. After all, he'd practically admitted he was a violent man when he'd said that he hadn't become the leader of the New Bad Axe Angels "for nothing."

  I was sure he'd probably become leader for being the most murderous and bloodthirsty of all candidates after the previous leader had been killed or removed, however that had happened. Nobody in North Haven really knew exactly. Strangely, the Angel leader prior to Cole was the only New Bad Axe leader that the North Haven fighters hadn't personally killed on the battlefield. It was common thinking that the previous leader had probably been killed in some internal power struggle, and that Cole had probably done the killing, or at least had ordered men loyal to him to do it.

  Flicking on an overhead light along the way, he began leading me down a short hallway, and I was surprised to hear what sounded like birds chirping. And really, surprised didn't even cover it. If it was the sound of real birds I was hearing, and not some strange recording or music, I was frankly stunned to hear birds chirping from somewhere within the beautiful yet somber mansion. The sound, so cheery and bright, just didn't seem to fit. The thought of Cole owning birds didn't seem to fit, either. Although if they were his housekeeper's, I assumed she'd keep them on the second floor, considering that she was the only resident.

  Within a few seconds, we emerged from the hallway and entered a cavernous room with a vaulted ceiling and the same ornate, dark carved woodwork as the staircase bannister. And I saw that the chirping was indeed being made by real birds, at least a dozen of them, in fact. In the soft, warm light of numerous hurricane lamps made from pale amber glass, chickadees and cockatiels flitted around in massive domed cages at least ten feet tall and ten feet wide. Inside an enormous wood-framed glass case easily double the size of one of the cages, at least width-wise, a few finches hopped from branch to branch atop what looked to be a small real tree, or at least an amazing replica of one.

  Looking at the birds, the lofty ceiling, and several gilded fireplaces around the room, deep in thought, I didn't even realize I'd begun wandering into the room until I was in the center of it. It was there that I came to a stop with a horrifying suspicion becoming fully formed in my mind, a suspicion that was the result of me feeling certain that Cole wasn't the type of man to keep birds as pets.

  He'd joined me in the center of the room, and I pulled my gaze from a large silver cage to look at him.

  "What are they?"

  Barely audible above the continued chirping, my voice had come out in a near-whisper that probably betrayed my horror.

  With his dark hair glinting in the light from the pale amber lamps, Cole frowned. "What are they?"

  "Yes. In the cages. What are they?"

  Frown deepening, he just stared at me for a long moment. "Those are birds."

  The truthfulness in his eyes was unmistakable, and instantly, I felt like an utter and total ass for the ages. Face flaming, I tried to cover as best I could. "Well, I know that...I know they're birds...but I just meant...." I paused, swallowing, realizing that despite the truthfulness I'd seen in Cole's eyes, I just didn't trust him.

  Still wearing a frown, he looked at me intently. "You just meant what, Miss Grant?" He looked truly curious, maybe even mystified, and I decided to just spit it out.

  "Well, are they really birds? Or are they enemies that you've just enchanted to become birds with your sorcery skills or something."

  This was the thought that had horrified me just a short while before, and it hadn't seemed at all ridiculous when I'd thought it in my mind.

  A glimmer of amusement danced in Cole's eyes, but only for a moment. "No...playing at bird enchantments...that's not how I deal with my enemies. I don't have the time or desire for silly games. I just simply kill my enemies."

  Experiencing a little chill, I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. After studying my face briefly, maybe to gauge my reaction to what he'd said, Cole continued, with his gaze going to the birdcages.

  "Eric Winthrop originally designed this space to be a formal living room, but obviously my birds have kind of taken over. It was always too formal a room for me anyway. There's a den in the west wing of the house that I use as a living room when I have time to relax. Although instead of watching a movie or something if I have any downtime, I usually prefer to check in with my hawks and falcons out back in the aviary, which is really just a barn."

  So, I thought to myself, Cole was a murderous, delusional, sorcerer-wolf-shifter hybrid who kept hawks and falcons, in addition to finches, parakeets, and cockatiels. I felt like I'd officially heard everything. And now I had to endure dinner with this strange, impossibly handsome, possibly psychotic madman.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The mansion seemed to be a near-endless m
aze of hallways, and Cole soon led me down another, which exited into the most inviting part of the house I'd seen yet: a spacious, though not enormous, dining room paneled in medium-dark wood was illuminated by numerous electric wall sconces, as well as a glittering crystal chandelier above a long, rectangular dining table. Two places were set at the table, one at the head and one just to the side, on the left, and in front of these place settings sat two glowing white taper candles in gilded holders, as well as a beautiful, bright floral arrangement of lilacs, peonies, and tulips in a clear glass vase.

  It was May, and I dared to hope that the flowers had come from a garden somewhere nearby, maybe even out back, that I could walk through. Like most people, I loved flowers, spring, and warm weather, and I knew my captivity might be easier to bear if I could enjoy some natural beauty at least sometimes.

  Across the large room, there was a high, wood-paneled partition sort of thing topped by jewel-green houseplants of all kinds, and Cole gestured in this direction. "Behind that wall is the kitchen, and Mary-Alice's territory. You're welcome to go in there at any time and fix yourself whatever you'd like, though. Mary-Alice is a very sweet, friendly woman. She won't bite."

  As if to prove this point, right on cue, a plump but tiny woman maybe in her mid-to-late sixties came bustling out from behind the partition right then, smiling. She was at least an inch or two away from being five feet tall and wore a pink-and-white checked apron with a large pink heart on the front, making the apron heart-meltingly sweet in and of itself. I liked Mary-Alice already.

  Tucking a few strands of loose gray hair back into the neat bun at the back of her head, she bustled her way over to Cole and me in the dining area, then just stood nodding at me, still smiling, as if she wanted to say hello but was a bit nervous and just couldn't get the word out or something.

  Cole quickly spoke instead, introducing the two of us and then speaking to me in a little lower voice. "Although she can hear just fine, Mary-Alice doesn't speak. If you need to communicate with her or have her answer a question, she carries a pen and notepad for that purpose, just so you know."

  Surprised, though trying not to show it, I shook one of Mary-Alice's tiny plump hands, smiling, telling her I was pleased to meet her. She beamed, face flushing, and nodded a few times, clearly pleased to meet me, too. Elated to have found an obviously kind, warm soul in the house, I beamed back. However, at the same time, I wondered with a bit of unease exactly why Mary-Alice didn't speak. Even though at present, Cole was acting like he had a good rapport with her, and she was acting like she wasn't frightened of him or anything, I wondered if it was possible that this poor little woman really was afraid of him, to the point that she couldn't even speak around him. After all, he had just admitted in the bird room that he killed his enemies with ease, and I was sure Mary-Alice knew all about this. Maybe she'd even seen displays of Cole's violence, and the experience had rendered her permanently scared speechless. I figured this possibly even accounted for her warmth toward me, that she was just as happy to see another kind soul in the house as I was.

  Soon she gestured to the table, smiling, held up one finger to Cole as if to say one second, and then nodded at us both before bustling back on out to the kitchen area behind the wood-paneled partition. Cole led me over to the dining table, pulled out my seat for me, and then took his own seat at the head of the table. Although I'd been so interested in the house, the birds, and Mary-Alice that I'd actually forgotten all about my extreme hunger, it now came roaring back, and I suddenly felt like I couldn't wait a second longer for food. Fortunately, I didn't have to. While he poured me a glass of chardonnay, Cole told me to help myself to rolls from a basket covered by a white linen napkin, and I gratefully did, taking both a white roll and a wheat roll and transferring them to a little plate.

  Upon taking my first bite of still-warm bread, I actually had to stifle a sigh of pleasure. Perfectly moist and chewy, though with a slight crackle to the crust, just the way I liked it, the wheat roll was out-of-this-world good. It hardly needed any butter, but I helped myself to a pat anyway, again having to stifle a sigh when I tasted it in combination with the bread.

  Meanwhile, Cole had poured himself some amber-colored liquid from a crystal decanter, whiskey from what I could very faintly smell and after knocking back a large gulp without so much as a grimace, he picked up a small remote-control-looking thing from the side of the table and asked what kind of music I liked.

  Following his line of vision to a stereo speaker mounted high on a shelf in one corner of the room, I said anything was fine. "Thank you."

  I did like all kinds of music, but the truth was that I was far too involved with my bread to even think about different musical genres much less pick one. Cole ended up putting on something soft and classical with piano and violin.

  He helped himself to a couple of rolls, too, and we ate in silence. Just as we were finishing, Mary-Alice came in bearing plates of green salad studded with cherry tomatoes, chunks of cheddar cheese, and pieces of crumbled bacon, then left and returned with a covered silver roasting pan, which she set between Cole and me. If her cooking was even half as good as it smelled, I was pretty sure I was going to be diving in for seconds.

  After taking the lid off the pan and serving Cole and me very generous portions of roasted rosemary chicken, redskin potatoes, and carrots, she stepped back from the table with an expectant little smile, as if awaiting further instruction. Surprising me, Cole looked at her with his eyes clearly radiating warmth. Or maybe it was just the candlelight dancing in his eyes, I really couldn't be sure.

  "Thank you, Mary-Alice. The meal looks delicious. That will be all for now."

  Beaming at his praise, she nodded quickly then headed back out to the kitchen.

  While we began eating, I wanted to ask Cole why she didn't speak, now intensely curious to know if it was because she couldn't, or wouldn't, or was simply too scared to. I had to admit that this last possibility was now striking me as unlikely, since contrary to seeming afraid of him, Mary-Alice almost seemed to revel in his presence, eager for his approval. After she'd finished serving his food, I'd even seen her give his shoulder the briefest, lightest little double pat, which had seemed like an almost unconscious gesture of affection, like a mother might give to a son.

  However, as much as I wanted to know why she didn't speak, something about the thought of me asking Cole felt like it would somehow be me invading her privacy. I had the feeling that I should wait and ask Mary-Alice herself, if the time ever felt right. Then, if she wanted to, she could tell me in her own words why she didn't talk, using her notepad.

  The meal she'd prepared was perfectly seasoned, flavorful, and utterly delicious, and for a while, Cole and I just ate silently, with the quiet classical music providing a little background noise.

  However, once he'd finished his baked chicken and most of his salad and vegetables, Cole took a thirsty gulp of his whiskey, sat back in his chair, and asked me to please tell him about myself. "I'd like to know more about you...for example, what you did before you became a Gifted and moved to North Haven."

  Instantly irritated, borderline angry even, I set my knife and fork down. "You have some nerve."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "You have some nerve to ask me to tell you about myself when you haven't even come out and told me specifically why you forcefully kidnapped me, and why you then several times have told me some craziness about me being pregnant with your child."

  Right away, I wondered if I'd gone a bit too far, if Cole would perceive my tone as being disrespectful to him.

  However, to my near-astonishment, he actually had the decency to look a bit sheepish. "You're right, and I'm sorry. But still, I'm not ready to discuss those things with you right now. And in the meantime, I do want to learn more about you. So, please...tell me about your life before coming to North Haven. Did you come from a place where there were no birds, making them appear as strange and magical creatures to you now?"


  Astonishing my own self now, I laughed. And just briefly before I caught myself, but nonetheless, I did it. Cole had actually made me laugh with genuine amusement. He reacted by cracking a smile, and the effect was nothing short of dazzling. His teeth were white and straight, and his smile also made his pale gray eyes light up in a way that made me feel as if my heart had just skipped a beat, maybe two. However, I hadn't forgotten whom I was having dinner with. I hadn't forgotten that this man had kidnapped me, likely to use me as some sort of a concubine. So, avoiding his eyes, I took a sip of wine before responding, resolving that I'd briefly answer his question, though in as businesslike tone of voice as possible.

  "Believe it or not, I actually did become familiar with birds in Chicago, where I was born and raised, and where I was still living at the time I became a Gifted and was posted to North Haven."

  "And what did you do in Chicago? And do you still have family there?"

  "No, unfortunately, to your last question. My biological mom died of a heroin overdose when I was four, and the couple who adopted me shortly after died in a car accident not long before the Takeover."

  "I'm so sorry, Lauren."

  Glancing up from my wineglass to Cole's eyes, I saw what appeared to be genuine sympathy present in them, so I decided to let the fact that he'd called me Lauren and not Miss Grant go.

  "Thank you. Anyway, I didn't have any brothers or sisters, and the family members and close friends I still had left after my parents died were all killed during the early days of the Takeover." Glancing up at Cole again, I couldn't resist getting a little dig in. "I'm sure you're aware of how Angel fighters nearly leveled Chicago to the ground, killing thousands of innocent people."

  Cole didn't respond, and after a moment or two, I took a sip of my wine, set the glass down, and picked up my fork to finish the couple of roasted redskin potato quarters left on my plate. While I ate them, Cole knocked back the rest of his second glass of whiskey, refilled his glass from the decanter, and took another gulp. Upon setting the glass down, he said two words so quietly that I almost didn't hear them above the quiet classical music.