Alphas Unwrapped: 21 New Steamy Paranormal Tales of Shifters, Vampires, Werewolves, Dragons, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More

by Michele Bardsley

She waited now, rather than say anything else insulting. Yesterday she would have backpedaled like crazy from this whole conversation, but she’d just traveled a great distance in a matter of seconds. And she’d watched Seth … no, Sethos … throw fireballs and Tristan shove kinetic energy around.

  What would scientists who had studied kinetic energy for years give to have seen all that?

  If Mac had learned one thing from facing difficult facts while growing up as a Mackenzie, it was that, ready or not, if truth stepped in front of you and stood there, you looked it in the eye and took it for what—or who—it was. Then you found a way to deal with it. You didn’t try to make it go away, pretty it up, or dumb it down.

  That had gotten her through accepting the truth when she’d learned about sharing DNA with the senator.

  Tristan said, “I’m what’s called an Alterant. There are ancient warriors who live among humans and protect them from people like Sethos. The majority of those warriors are called Beladors. You might say I’m ... associated with them.”

  “And what is Sethos?”

  “He’s a sorcerer.”

  “Seriously? Did you, I don’t know, grab that from my thoughts?” A sorcerer. Her brain was going into overload.

  “No, I can’t read your mind.” Tristan’s lips curled into a sly grin for a moment, then his face and tone dropped back into serious zone. “Sethos captures preternatural creatures and sells them to the highest bidder, or hunts them down for a bounty for other beings who want to use them for dark purposes.”

  “Creatures ...” She cringed at that description and changed it. “I mean beings like you?”

  “Yes. Like me.”

  She’d fallen for a quiet, wonderful man who had made her feel special when she knew she was no prize. The years had moved past since he disappeared, but not her longing to see him again even after reminding herself daily about how he’d made a joke of her.

  At night, the Tristan she’d known for ten glorious days and one amazing night snuck into her dreams any time she closed her eyes.

  And now, she knew the truth.

  He hadn’t played her false and walked. He’d been captured and locked away.

  “Tristan, why were you locked up in South America?”

  She saw him draw in a breath, watching her as he considered how to answer. His jaw worked. “It’s complicated.”

  “Did you do something bad to deserve being locked up?”

  “No.”

  Her heart had known the answer, but her brain needed her to ask and hear it with her own ears just the same.

  “Alterants have never been understood, and at the time, some considered us dangerous, which we are, but I was locked up because of fear–on the chance that I might do harm. Not because I did.”

  How horrible.

  She couldn’t imagine what it had been like, forced to live alone in a jungle. And even when he thought she’d caused his imprisonment and that she’d been behind his capture tonight, he still stepped between her and danger. Why would he do that after all this time?

  She considered all he’d said and mused, “You’re a ... Belador?”

  “No. Well, sort of. Like I said, I’m an Alterant. That means I have half Belador blood and half Medb.”

  “Mave?” She’d heard that earlier. The question must have shown on her face.

  He spelled it for her and explained, “The Medb are a coven of powerful dark witches, ruled by a goddess who calls herself Queen Maeve and has been around as long as our goddess.”

  This just got better and better. “You have a goddess?”

  “I don’t personally claim her, but the Beladors answer to Macha, and so do the Alterants for now, only because it’s better than being stuck with Queen Maeve.” He swiped a hand across the stubble on his jaw. Now that she took the time to notice, he looked exhausted. Throwing power around and teleporting must really take it out of a guy.

  Tristan walked to her and started to reach out, then dropped his hand. “It’s a long story.”

  “I studied about those goddesses and—” What was she trying to say? That she believed all of this? How could she not, after what she’d just experienced?

  Tristan put his hands on her shoulders. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

  “Goddesses, Beladors, Alterants, trolls and ... you say Seth Kako is a sorcerer.”

  ~*~*~

  Tristan could call Sethos a lot of things, but he’d go with sorcerer for now. Mac had absorbed a lot already. “He’s a very nasty one. His real name is Kakosethos. Greek for Sethos the Mean.” Heat still singed Tristan’s back. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but he wanted to make sure Mac wouldn’t go screaming out of here while he called up his beast power to heal himself.

  She sniffed. “What’s that singed smell?”

  “Sethos got in a last shot at me as we left.”

  “Where?”

  “My back. If you won’t freak out, I can heal–”

  “Let me see.” She hurried behind him. “Oh my God, Tristan. Your back has a hole in it. You’re burned. You need a hospital.”

  “No.” He swung around and caught her shoulders again, gently, to anchor her. “Human doctors can’t fix me. I need a shower.”

  “It’s. A. Hole,” she said slowly, as if she still thought he was an idiot. “A big, freakin’, burned hole!” she shouted at him.

  “I can heal it.”

  “Are you crazy? No, that looks insanely bad.” She kept trying to pull away to get around to his back again.

  Unbelievable. Mac had accepted Tristan fighting nonhumans, that his glowing eyes were real, and teleporting, taking it all in stride, but she freaked out over a wound.

  His wound. Damn, that caused a warm spot in his chest.

  When was the last time anyone had fussed over him?

  Let me think. Never.

  “Mac, listen to me. I’ve got this. Really.” He let her go.

  She stepped back with her arms crossed and a determined look in her eyes. “You could be dying while we argue.”

  “I’m not dying.” He couldn’t explain any more. He was physically wiped out from flinging all that power around. This constant drain would screw his getting back up to full speed.

  Ah shit. And how was he going to take Petrina and Bernie back to Treoir on time if he didn’t have enough energy to teleport even one of them by tomorrow? “Damn it.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Once Tristan had Mac safe, he’d figure out about taking those two back to Treoir. He might have to send them without him. Even so, he’d need time between each teleport.

  A shower would clear his head, then he’d have to shut down for a while to have any chance of killing a light kinetically without help.

  Tristan strode to the bathroom, tugging his shirt up as he walked, but the material stuck and pulled at his skin. He growled a curse. Material must have melted.

  “Stop, Tristan!”

  He paused and Mac blew past him.

  She ordered, “Follow me.”

  Amused with her take-no-prisoners tone, he followed her into the bedroom and on to the bathroom.

  She peeled off her sweater and jeans, then stepped inside the glass shower and cranked on the jets. Water hit all the exposed skin that her bra and panties, pink, no less, didn’t cover.

  Not what he’d had in mind, but the horndog in him was on board.

  She turned to him, holding the door open. “Take off everything but your shirt and get in here.”

  He normally didn’t like bossy women.

  Evalle Kincaid annoyed the piss out of him when she got mouthy and started tossing around demands. His sister Petrina could be just as irritating when she got her back up.

  But demanding Mac was a serious turn-on. And that right there was why men dropped half their brain cells every time they dropped their pants around a woman.

  By the time he’d shucked his jeans and stepped into the shower, he was hard and throbbing.

  Water poured
over Mac, turning her into his own personal wet dream nymph.

  She glanced down to find him erect and poised for her.

  Was she impressed? No. She arched an eyebrow at him. “Turn around.”

  “Isn’t that my line?”

  “Do it.”

  He did and water sprayed across his raw skin. “Shit!”

  Way to kill a hard-on. But fuck that hurt.

  “Don’t be a baby.” She gently tugged the material as it softened under the water and pulled away. She murmured encouraging words the whole time, which did little to ease the feeling of his skin being ripped from his back.

  “It’s clean, and the material is out of the wound,” she finally announced. “What are we going to do now, superhero?”

  She had a mouth on her.

  “Just stand back,” he said, keeping his back to her while he propped one arm against the tiled wall to hold himself upright. His knees had almost buckled while the water battered the raw wound.

  Searching inside, Tristan called on his beast, which came slowly to life. Not all the way to shifting, but enough to send healing power to his back. Over the next few minutes, muscle regenerated, and a layer of skin formed. Must have closed the wound, because the water no longer felt like tiny daggers. He’d be sore, but he could deal with that.

  The showerhead stopped spewing water.

  When he turned to Mac, she had her hand over her mouth and her eyes were open so wide he could see white all around.

  He swallowed, but what had he thought? That she’d forgotten he was a monster?

  There was no way he’d ever be just a normal man to her again.

  Not a human male like ... fucking Kossman.

  Thinking of her boss just pissed Tristan off. The son of a bitch had sent her out into danger if he really believed in supernaturals. Anyone in the preternatural world had heard of Kossman, who was richer than four feet up a bull’s ass. Women whispered about him being sex on a stick.

  Even Mac had Kossman on a pedestal.

  When Tristan hadn’t been able to unlock her shackles, she’d implored him to escape and call Kossman. He’ll send the equivalent of a SEAL team.

  She’d never think of Tristan the way she clearly idolized Kossman. A mere human.

  The one thing Tristan would never be.

  He didn’t want anyone to idolize him. But standing here, looking at Mac in all her gorgeous wet glory, he wanted her to look at him the way she had the night he’d saved her from a mugging. And the way she’d stared up at him as he’d driven into her when they’d made love.

  The way she’d looked at him when they first met in the park, as a man ... not a monster.

  She hadn’t cared about anything but him during those moments. As far as she’d known, he was just another guy.

  Just a normal human guy.

  Until he’d met her in Piedmont Park, he’d had few women in his life and none he’d wanted to ever see again. Certainly not a woman he’d burned for the way he’d wanted Mac.

  And still did.

  Time to put that all in the past and leave it there.

  He was as bad as Bernie for wanting a human woman. Not an option in his world, with his life being pulled between the Beladors and the Medb.

  But for just this moment, Tristan wanted to taste her again and feel the peace that had come over him during their one night together.

  She cleared her throat. “Five years ago, when you disappeared ... would you have left me like that if you hadn’t been grabbed?”

  “No.” He stepped over to her. “I thought about walking away the night you invited me up to your apartment. I didn’t want to risk anyone seeing my eyes, especially you.”

  “What stopped you from leaving?”

  He took his time answering. Should he tell her the truth or give her another reason to run from him?

  Mac didn’t run. She deserved the truth.

  He said, “You. I couldn’t leave because I wanted you too much to let you go.”

  She stared and stared until he accepted his lot in life. He shouldn’t have made love to her back then without telling her he was not human. Now she knew. He had no excuse this time, which meant he’d get her to safety, and then disappear.

  Tristan couldn’t take the silence anymore. “You can say what you’re thinking. How could I have touched you without telling you I’m a monster?”

  Her tongue slid over her pink lips, torturing him with yet another vision he’d never forget.

  She stepped up and put her hand on his cheek. “You’re not a monster, Tristan. I grew up with monsters, human ones. You have the ability to heal. That’s a gift, not a curse. You’re the most honorable man I’ve ever met, and I don’t regret one minute of our night together. I just want to know one thing.”

  “What?” His voice came out sounding like a rusty hinge.

  “Do you still want me?”

  Chapter 8

  “Tristan?”

  His brain finally caught up to Mac’s words and shook him back to the here and now. Did he still want her?

  Tristan didn’t waste the time telling Mac hell yes.

  He covered her mouth with his, running his hands through her hair, and pulling her to him.

  She lunged into the kiss. If it got any hotter in here, they’d set the room on fire. Her arms wrapped around his neck as if she feared he’d let go.

  Not a chance.

  He hoisted her up to his hips and she hooked her legs around him, sealing his aching hard-on between them. Tristan pointed a finger at the shower door and it opened. He stepped out and set her on the marble sink.

  Her hands moved across his shoulders and gripped the backs of his arms. The woman was a tiger in bed ... and on a sink.

  His tongue met hers and danced an erotic rhythm.

  Now that his hands were free to roam, he turned them loose. His fingers went straight to her breasts where he unclipped her bra. Love those front clasps. Two beautiful mounds filled his hands. He squeezed gently and flicked a finger across each hardened tip.

  She clenched her legs that were still around him. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  He could smell her desire and eased his way down, kissing one breast as he tortured the other with his fingers. Drawing the nipple into his mouth, he nipped it.

  She gasped and shuddered.

  He kissed the spot and moved down her abdomen, loving every inch with his mouth. When he reached her panties, he pulled them off and settled in to enjoy the pleasure he’d missed all these years.

  Mac’s heart thundered in her chest and the world turned into an erotic kaleidoscope. How had she lived all these years without his touch?

  An Alterant. She’d ask him more about that later. Right now, she had her own superhero lover.

  Tristan’s fingers gripped her bare legs and slid his hands around to her inner thighs, gently opening her. One finger brushed through her curls and damp heat.

  Then it moved away.

  She fought the urge to cry. It had been too long for her, and she wanted to feel everything now. Her voice trembled. “Don’t ... stop.”

  “I won’t.”

  Anticipation coiled inside her, waiting for his touch. When his tongue swept across the bundle of nerves screaming for release, she lifted off the sink.

  He held her down and suckled her.

  She’d met no one—no man—she could trust enough to open herself this way. Not in the last five years. It took only seconds for all that longing to coil tightly, then for the release to explode through her. Every part of her body felt charged with energy.

  When she finally stopped shaking, Tristan had her up against his chest, holding her and kissing her face and hair. She pulled back and looked into his beautiful eyes.

  Green was officially her favorite color. “I missed you.”

  He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  Lifting his head, he kissed her sweetly. “Missing me. Wanting me. Letting
me make love to you.”

  “I think I should be thanking you, since I’m the one who’s limp as a noodle right now,” she teased.

  “I’m not done.” An unholy look glowed in his eyes.

  “Then get to it.”

  He laughed and it was music to her ears. “I have missed that mouth of yours.”

  She’d seen him smile, but hearing him laugh, so honest and real, caused her heart to squeeze. He kissed her again and she had no doubt about his lusty intentions. She said in a mock-diva tone, “Still waiting on the final act ... unless you’re still too weak from throwing all that ... power ... stuff ... around.”

  He grabbed her head and forced it back, his lips an inch from hers. “You’re hot when you’re bossy.”

  Grinning, she said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I’ll wipe that smile off your face as soon as I bury myself deep inside you.”

  “Keep talking like that and I’ll come again ... oh, wait!”

  “What?”

  “No condoms.”

  Tristan arched an eyebrow and gave her an all-knowing smirk. “There better be one in here or I’m going to be very disappointed in my friend who loans this place to me.” He waved his hand at a drawer that was just out of reach.

  The drawer opened, and with a flick of his finger, a condom flew up to his open palm. He sheathed himself and lifted Mac back into his arms.

  Once her legs locked around him, she shifted up and down against him.

  Tristan growled. “You don’t want to tease the beast.”

  He backed her up against the bathroom door. She put a hand on his chest and waited until their gazes met to tell him, “When we’re together, it’s only you and me. I don’t see a beast. I see a man I can’t wait to feel inside me, stroking over and over until–”

  “Fuck.” He lifted her onto him and slid home in one stroke.

  She felt that all the way to her nipples and sucked in a breath. He stroked again and again, picking up momentum.

  She bit his shoulder and he buried himself deeper, releasing a loud groan. Nipping and licking behind her love bites, she kissed his salty skin and whispered, “Harder.”

  He answered her demand and she clawed his back, clenching against his sweet assault. When he came it was with a shout that sounded primal and fierce, pounding away and sending her over with him. Moments later, he held her pinned against the door as he heaved hard breaths in and out.