Red Hot Alphas: 11 Novels of Sexy, Bad Boy, Alpha Males (Red Hot Boxed Sets Book 2)

by Jo Raven

  I hear William grunting. I open my eyes to look at him, still dazed, and I see his face distorted with pleasure as he comes. He then rests on me, hiding his face too—maybe a little shy as I was from sharing this private moment. He keeps his weight off me, but I draw him closer, a hand on his neck and the other one pressing on his back. We’re still linked, and I can feel his shoulders move slowly as he breathes.

  As we catch our breaths, I wonder if he is going to disappear right now, or if I have a little time to tell him what’s in my heart. I should be on cloud nine but I begin to feel anxious at the idea that it’s going to be over soon. I don’t want it to ever end—I have just found out what being close to someone physically means. I already know how being close emotionally feels … and the fact that it was with him too, fifteen years ago, only makes the moment sweeter. He does not feel like a ghost to me; he is very tangible and seems real in my arms.

  After a few minutes, he shifts and lies next to me. His eyes examine my face, looking for I don’t know what. I feel both happy and sad but keep my expression neutral.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, tucking a few strands of my hair behind my ear and caressing my cheek. His face is serious, and he looks worried.

  “I— I don’t know,” I say, not knowing where to begin. I never thought we would have any kind of conversation—I had thought it would all be over now. I have so many questions, but I don’t want to spoil the moment, if these are his last minutes on Earth…

  “Did I— Did I hurt you?” he ventures. “I didn’t think— I thought you wanted—”

  I look at him, surprised, and shake my head. “Not at all.”

  “What’s happening? I feel you are sad. I never want you sad.”

  I look down, playing in the small flames that burn from his skin. “I am sad. But it’s nothing you did. I hope I succeeded in helping you. I’m glad you’re still here but…I thought you’d be gone by now.”

  “Gone? Why?” he questions me, surprised.

  “I did some research online,” I confess. “A lot of websites wrote about ghosts, and they all agreed that once I helped you with your unfinished business, you’d be on your way to heaven…”

  He looks at me silently, his face serious.

  “Are you going to vanish? When? Or…or was this not your unfinished business?” I shoot up, realization striking me. “Oh. I shouldn’t have assumed— that was stupid of me.”

  “Where are you going? Wait up!”

  I feel so embarrassed. How could I be so vain as to think sex with me was so important to him that it was what his unfinished business was? I just want to hide, mortified about the arrogance of my assumption.

  I slip from his arms quickly, grab my clothes in a hurry and run away from the cemetery. I’m ashamed, and I know I am stupid to feel hurt, so stupid, but I can’t shake it.

  I run like the wind, despite my ankle, despite the stones on the ground hurting my feet. Behind me, I hear him running and calling my name, but I cannot face the humiliation I feel. I still hear him calling me, midway to the mansion where I stop to dress up before anyone can see me, but the sound is not getting louder—he is not coming after me. I stalk back to my room as silently as I can and hide the rest of the night under the covers, feeling ashamed of both my assumptions and my behavior.

  CHAPTER NINE

  INTRIGUE

  As I take a much-needed shower this morning, having sneaked in the bathroom in order not to be seen by anyone, I reflect on what has happened and my reactions.

  First of all, I have not helped William. I wanted to help him find peace and move on, and this is not what he needed. I felt stupid when I realized that his unfinished business did not revolve around having naked sex with me on his tomb. Really, what was I thinking?

  Also, I must have left him feeling like shit when I fled like I did, and I had no one to blame but myself for being that dumb and sensitive. I will have to clarify things with him when I go there tonight, because after everything that has happened, I don’t want him to think I have regrets about us making love. I had thought it was important to do it, and I had wanted to do it to help him, but that does not mean I did not want it—I did. I would not say no to another round, either. Being naked under the shower does nothing to appease my feelings of arousal when I recall our sexcapade, and I have to shake myself into focusing and not losing my train of thought.

  The last point, and the most important one, was: what does William need to move on? As much as I secretly rejoice at the idea of seeing him again, even as a ghost, I recall what I read about spirits growing angry and restless the longer they stay on our plane of existence. I don’t want that for William—I have to be selfless for him. I need to find out what his unfinished business is and help him get closure.

  I get out of the shower and drag myself to the dining room, hoping my bad mood won’t be too obvious. I am hungry, having skipped dinner last night, so I’m not willing to wait until everyone has left to do their own things to go snack in the kitchen.

  As I enter the room, everyone greets me. My parents are used to my absences, and they don’t act any different than usual, but I feel that my in-laws are wary and wonder if everything is all right. I gather my strength and force myself to smile reassuringly at them. As soon as I do, small talk starts again and I sit with them, reaching for tea and some buttered toast.

  Emily is sitting next to me and turns to me to ask: “Would you have a few minutes for me later today? I would really enjoy taking a walk with you outside.”

  This is good news. Emily is probably no less haunted by the death of her only child than the days before, but at least she is making an effort to go on living her life. I nod, smiling at her.

  “Of course, I’d love to. Let’s get dressed after brunch, and you can take me to visit the gardens.” From the corner of my eye, I can see Devon smiling as he notices we are starting to get close.

  “I’d love to come too, I bet the roses are beautiful today,” says my mother.

  “The more, the merrier,” I answer, hoping to get my mother-in-law and my mother together and help them get back in touch—they used to be friends, spending their days together while Binniboy and I ran around on our property—but so much time has passed, the way they interact is awkward, and the circumstances are not ideal for rekindling their friendship. A little help on my part might help them become close again.

  When I’m finished eating, I go back to my room and put on some trousers and walking shoes. A quick knock at my door startles me. I get up and open it, and it’s Emily, all ready to go.

  “Come with me, there’s something I want to show you, and only you. We’ll come back to get your mother later,” she whispers, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the hall to the stairs.

  I worry that my mother will realize we’re gone and feel left out, but I guess there is no harm in doing a pre-walk together…right? I hurry—the sooner we’re where she wants me to be, the sooner we can go back and get Mom.

  We walk straight to a little car that looks like a golf cart, and she drives us—slowly, but still faster than we would have gone on foot—to the estate’s gates.

  “See? Here?” she says as she jumps out of the cart. I approach, trying to see what she is trying to show me, but I don’t understand what she means.

  “The gate?” I ask, feeling stupid.

  “No, right there,” she says, pulling me to the side and showing me a small breach in the fence. It is so tiny that even a small cat would have a hard time getting through it.

  “What is it?”

  She looks at me, all the excitement now drained from her face. “It’s where the thing that killed my William entered.”

  I don’t know what to say. She looks and sounds crazy, and I begin to worry that her son’s death has really messed with her. This is more than normal grief, it’s…it’s an abnormal obsession. But I mentally rein myself in. Wouldn’t I seem crazy to other people too, if I were to confess about seeing William? Talking t
o him? I wouldn’t even have to mention the naughty bits; people would call the psychiatric hospital long before I got that far.

  Still, I have no idea how to respond to Emily, and I also have no idea if this is something worth pondering, or if I am deluding myself in thinking she is not simply going crazy from her loss.

  She seems to understand I’m uncomfortable, and we head back to the mansion silently in the cart.

  Mom’s already there, waiting for us outside in the shade. I wave her over as we park the cart, and scootch to the back seat of the cart to give her some space to sit in the front. “Hey, Mom,” I say, smiling. “We’re gotten a cart to drive us around. We didn’t feel like walking after all.”

  “Isn’t walking the point of having a walk?” she asks, but she’s not bothered. My mother is a very easy-going woman, and I love that about her.

  “Where do you want to go?” asks Emily, still half lost in her thoughts and barely able to function socially.

  “I was looking over at some stuff we had delivered from our home, and I found a picture of William and Constance when they were younger,” Mom says. “I got a frame for it, and I was thinking it would be nice to put it on William’s tomb.”

  Emily’s face lights up all of a sudden. “That is such a nice thought, Elisabeth,” she enthuses. “I would love to do that. May I see the picture?”

  We both lean around my mother to get a peek. The photo is quite old, and the colors are a bit faded. It’s really us, Binniboy and me. We must have been five or six at the time of the photo. He was already very cute as a boy—anyone would have been able to tell he’d be handsome as an adult. His hand is on my shoulder, protective. On my hand, there is a magnificent butterfly, wings open, resting on me as if I were a pretty flower. It’s not easy to make out its exact color in the old picture, but I know it was a pure, flamboyant, electric blue.

  “Let’s go,” says Emily. She looks strong enough to go to the cemetery for the first time since William’s death. I’m glad she’s not thinking about her crazy theories, at least for the moment. I will have to be careful and take care of her and not let her delve too much into this new obsession.

  The cart has no problem managing the dirt path to the cemetery, despite it being on top of a small hill overlooking the mansion.

  We disembark at the entrance and walk under the trees to take advantage of the shade. We are almost in view of William’s grave when my mother exclaims: “What is that horrible smell?”

  I breathe in and immediately recognize the stench. It’s the one that was already reeking yesterday morning. With a lot of “ohmygods” and waving our hands in front of our noses, we look for the source of that smell but to no avail.

  My mother-in-law pushes through to William’s tomb, and we follow her half-heartedly. I hear her gasp and rush to her side to see what’s wrong.

  “What happened here?” she cries, taking in the view. “Who could do such a thing?”

  The tomb’s flowers, the ones we brought a few days ago, are strewn all over the ground. I feel ashamed when I realize that William and I did this last night. We rolled around on the marble stone and didn’t notice what we were doing the floral arrangements.

  I look around, but I see no trace of him…I guess he’ll always be a no-show during daytime. I have no way to be sure of that yet, but it seems like he’s bound to the night.

  Of course, I cannot admit to this. They’d look at me like I’m insane—or worse, it could feed into Emily’s crazy delusions.

  Delusions … Are they? Am I being a terrible daughter-in-law by withholding the information I have? How close is Emily to the truth? Does she … does she really know something? I cannot decide if she does or not.

  “Well … Let’s go back to the mansion and ask the grave keeper to take care of both the mess and the stench,” I offer.

  “Who?” asks Emily.

  “You know, the guy who takes care of the cemetery.”

  “You mean our gardener? Old Abe is on vacation,” she says as we retreat to the cart. “His daughter is having her first child, and he wanted to be with her for the birth of his first grand-daughter. He’ll be back in two weeks.” I step back in shock, but she carries on without noticing.

  “Elisabeth, I’d like you to be involved with the household decisions—if that’s okay with Constance.”

  I nod absentmindedly, wondering who the hell was that guy I have now seen twice—the one who claimed he was the keeper of the cemetery. The one who barely looked old enough to have children at all, let alone a grown daughter.

  Emily and my mother go on discussing the help and their duties, unaware of my inner turmoil.

  Back at the mansion, a group of men is having an animated discussion with Devon Wayworth on the front terrace. They all are wearing khakis and holding guns—the hunting party, I realize. I had almost forgotten about them. I walk over Devon, looking for answers.

  “I told you, sir,” says the one who looks like the leader—a big, moustachey guy with a hunting cap hiding his eyes whom I’ve heard the others call Ben—“We’ve turned over every stone of the estate, and if there was something, it’s gone. We found absolutely no trace of a predator—big or small.”

  He looks sorry to give the news to my father-in-law, but he seems like a no-bullshit kind of guy. I guess that means the search is over.

  “I’m ready to pay for you to search as long as needed, if that’s what you’re worried about,” says Devon. He is trying to maintain a severe exterior but I can see that he is crushed inside—a glint of wetness in his eyes is giving away his despair.

  “There is no need for that,” says the hunter. “We’ve been thorough. You’ve hired the best men for this job, and we did what we came here to do. There is no unusual animal, let alone a predator, on your property. I’ll make a few more rounds, but we’ll be on our way in two days if we can’t find a trail.”

  The group starts to scatter to their cars, which have been parked around the mansion for most of the last few days.

  Devon calls after the leader, “Benjamin, please!”

  Ben walks a few steps away, pauses and says, without turning back to face us: “I’m really sorry for your loss,” before leaving in his turn.

  I can feel that Devon is about to cry, but he’s too proud to do it in front of his wife, his daughter-in-law and her mother. “If you’ll excuse me,” he says, going back into the mansion to find some solitude.

  I turn around to see Emily’s reaction, expecting her to be crushed at the news, but she seems no more upset than she was before. The intensity in her eyes has not lessened since this morning, and I feel a pang in my stomach, worry about her twisting my guts.

  She goes off to do her own things, and my mother comes to me, the frame still in her hand. “I know you go over there sometimes,” she whispers to me. “I see you walking in that direction at night.”

  I nod. For my mom, it’s not a big deal. I like that.

  “You should hold on to this and put it there next time you go,” she tells me as she pushes the picture into my hands.

  We go our separate ways but not before hugging each other tightly. I may be an adult now, and I may have been married and widowed in a single day, marking my entrance into independence with more drama than anyone could have foreseen, but I still need my mom—even though I cannot tell her everything.

  CHAPTER TEN

  PAIN

  With the news of the lands of the estate being safe again, I decide to talk to my in-laws about my wandering ways. I don’t want anyone worrying constantly about my whereabouts.

  “But the property is so big, Constance,” says Devon at the dining table. “We’re going to be constantly worried about where you are.”

  “There is no need to worry. I am a grown woman, I can take care of myself.” I try to smile to put him at ease—it’s hard to explain something like this to other adults who shouldn’t worry about me when my own parents are pretty easy going about it.

  “What if we
need to get a hold of you?” asks Devon.

  Emily is not arguing; she is lost in her thoughts.

  “You can tell me what you need to when I get back to the mansion,” I offer. “Surely there are not often emergencies that I need to be there to handle.”

  “What if someone’s very sick?” he counters.

  “I bet someone with an actual car and a driver’s license will get them to the hospital.” I have never learned to drive.

  I’m smiling but this talk is starting to infuriate me—it looks like Devon just wants me to do as I’m told, and even though I’m usually pretty obedient, I feel that this is one thing I cannot concede. I need my freedom—even more than before now that I need to meet William with discretion.

  “Leave the girl be, Devon,” interrupts Emily. She’s still not looking at any of us, and it’s actually a bit surprising to hear her voice—she’s been quite silent at the dining table these past meals.

  “Here’s what I can do: I can get a cellphone. I’ve never really have the use for one, but at least that way you’ll be able to get a hold of me if you need me or if you’re worried. How’s that?”

  Devon looks at me, trying to hide his discomfort. “I suppose this is acceptable. Thank you, Constance.”

  I’m not sure he is totally reassured, but he has no grounds to object to my lonely walks now. I haven’t mentioned how I intend to sneak out again tonight. No need to make them worry—there’s no way I can get a hold of a cell phone before tomorrow, and there’s no way I’m going to pass on seeing William tonight.

  As soon as I’m sure no one is still awake, I walk back to the cemetery. I’m pretty confident that William is there, waiting for me. I feel bad about my reaction the night before, and I am eager to explain myself to him.

  He is sitting on his tomb, looking down. I can get a good look at him as I walk up to him—his clothes look as bluish and ethereal as he does. I wonder if I can touch them the way I do him … I wonder if I can peel them off him when we make love. It’s not only the clothes, either—now that I’m right in front of him, I notice he seems to have gained in definition. I can see stubble on his jaws, eyelashes … As if he is more real now than he was last night. I shake myself and try to think about something else—anything other than the powerful attraction I feel toward him every time I see him. I force myself not to devour him with my eyes, but it’s not easy.