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

by Michele Bardsley

  I pointed to the fireplace. “Do you think that has something to do with it? Does Santa not like the decorations?”

  “What?” Amanda asked with narrowed eyes. “Those weren’t even here an hour ago. We didn’t even have a chimney!”

  “Well, damn,” I murmured.

  Abram stepped forward himself now. “Be that as it may, ma’am, you need to let us help you,” he said. “We can stay with you, make sure you and your daughter are safe until morning. From what I can tell, this only happens tonight. After that—”

  “It won’t take that long.” Tears poured down Amanda’s cheeks. “It only takes an hour. Your name turns up on the list, and an hour later, you’re dead. Then another name shows up on the list. That’s the way it works.”

  “An hour?” Abram asked. Pulling a pocket watch out of his jacket, he added, “It’s been nearly an hour already.”

  “That’s why I thought you were him when you broke in!” Her hand faltered, and she dropped the knife. She slid to the floor and pulled her daughter to her chest. “He wants me to make it right, that’s what they say this is all about. But I was so young when Carly was born. I know I wasn’t perfect. I ran off a couple of times, okay? I left her with my mom and didn’t show back up for weeks. And he wants me to make it right. How do you make something like that right?”

  “You’re already making it right,” Abram said, a new hurt in his eyes I’d never seen before. “You’re here now. I’ll keep you safe, and you can make it right.”

  This was touching Abram some way I didn’t understand, and it was hitting home hard with me, too, but more because I could relate to that little girl.

  Amanda’s eyes darkened as they flickered to Carly. She wasn’t affected. Her mother was holding her, rocking her, but Carly was distant and unattached in a way that someone only gets when they’ve stopped holding on, when they see what’s coming and they know they can’t stop it.

  “You were going to leave again,” I whispered, nearly falling back a step in disbelief. “You were going to wait until after Christmas, and then you were going to run off like you always do.”

  Amanda’s eyes shot up at me. “It’s hard!” she screamed. “You think I wanted this life? You think I wanted any of this?” She shook her head. “I was going to wait until after Christmas. I was going to make sure she was okay! Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “I don’t think so,” I answered, tears stinging my eyes as I remembered my own father and the way it felt when he left us.

  “Charisse,” Abram’s hand was on my shoulder now. “Whatever she’s done, whatever she’s going to do, she doesn’t deserve to die.”

  “You’re right,” I muttered. I glanced at my phone. “There’s about five minutes left in the hour. Let’s just focus on keeping her safe, and we’ll figure out what to do after that.”

  Amanda, for her part, didn’t seem at all eased by the fact that we were here.

  “What the hell do you think you’re going to do for me?” she asked. “Just ‘cause you say you’ve got, what was it, skillsets?”

  “I’m a beast, and Charisse has both Supplicant and Conduit traits,” Abram answered matter-of-factly.

  “What does that even mean?”

  I placed a hand on Abram’s arm and shook my head, letting him know I would handle this one. He was always doing this. In fact, it seemed I was the only one he ever tried to keep this information from. Now he just blabbered about it to anyone, and no one ever knew what he was talking about.

  “I’m a witch, he’s a werewolf,” I said, using terms those who watch film would be more familiar with. “Together, we’re the only chance you’ve got.”

  But even as the words left my mouth, a death’s icy finger traced up my spine.

  I hadn’t been in control of my powers very long. Most Conduits were trained from birth in the mystical arts, but I was a full grown woman before I had even heard the word. As a result, I oftentimes didn’t know what I was capable of or what certain things meant.

  But as that shiver raced up to my neck, I had no trouble deciphering what it meant.

  “Abram, something—”

  “I know,” he said, his body tensing. “The temperature’s dropping. Something is here.”

  He spun around, crouching into position as his hands started to shift into claws and his face began to elongate. He was letting the beast out, and whoever or whatever was responsible for this Santa terrorism would soon be sorry.

  “He is a wolf,” Amanda murmured, practically shaking where she stood.

  “We’ll talk about my physiology later,” Abram mumbled around his fangs. “Let Charisse take you two somewhere safe.”

  “Abram, I can help you,” I said, magic welling up inside of me like some offensive instinct.

  “You can help me by keeping yourself safe,” he said with a growl. “I’m more than capable of dealing with some hooligan dressed as Kris Kring—”

  Before he could finish, unseen hands tossed Abram across the room. He slammed into the wall, breaking a hole in the plaster and landing on a mattress in the adjacent bedroom.

  “Abram!” I screamed.

  “The child!” he said, jumping up quickly.

  I grabbed Amanda with one hand and Carly with the other and started to run.

  Something pulled at me, though. Looking back, I saw the rope of tinsel that once hung across the newly installed fireplace was now wrapped around Amanda’s neck.

  I let go of their hands and pulled at the tinsel, but it shocked me and threw me back.

  Abram was in the living room again but in a fist fight with some invisible opponent. He swung, razor sharp claws ripping through the air. But it was no use.

  “He doesn’t have a scent,” Abram grunted as something hit him in the stomach. “He doesn’t make a sound.”

  Abram lifted off the ground and slammed back into it.

  I wanted to run to him, but I knew he would be okay. I couldn’t say the same for Amanda and Carly.

  “Go into the corner and stay there,” I said to the child, turning back to her mother.

  Amanda’s face was turning blue now. I tried to dig my fingers between the tinsel and her neck, but the damn thing shocked me again.

  You’re going to have to magic your way out of this, Char, I said to myself, cracking my knuckles. I needed to call forth the magic that ran through my Supplicant blood and channel it with my Conduit abilities into something…useful.

  Amanda’s eyes were red now, and Abram was still getting his masterfully sculpted ass handed to him. I took a deep breath and tapped into my energy. With a shift of something in my brain, I sent a blast of golden energy to the tinsel. It unspooled and fell to the floor.

  Amanda dropped to her knees, gasping for breath, her face quickly regaining color.

  “Thank you!” she said, grabbing for me. “Thank you so much. I swear, I’ll make it right. I’ll stay. I’ll never leave her—”

  A red flash boomed from the fireplace. I jerked backward and, the next thing I knew, Amanda was covered in flames.

  She screamed, an agonizing, almost inhuman sound as she wrenched back and forth. The sight of her, bold and terrifying, was almost as bad as the smell of charred flesh filling the room.

  “My God!” I muttered, immediately working to tap into the power again.

  Everything was happening so quickly. Come on, blood, don’t fail me now.

  Sparks started up in my fingertips again. So close. One more blast. Please.

  In the next heartbeat, Amanda’s burned body collapsed to the floor, the flames doubling inexplicably. The fire went out in a blast, the unseen force battling Abram also dissipated, and the temperature shot back up.

  It was gone. He was gone.

  My gaze crashed toward Amanda, and my heart fell to the floor.

  We failed.

  Abram and I shared a sorrowful look, and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was.

  Why do this if we can’t save them?
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  I wiped the tears from my eyes, shaking my head, and pulled myself together. This wasn’t just about us, or Amanda for that matter. I turned to Carly, whose face still seemed stone-like and without much feeling.

  She stared up at me with wide, blank eyes.

  “He knows if you’ve been bad or good,” she whispered. “Be good, Charisse.”

  Chapter 5

  “The police are here,” Abram said, walking back into the decimated living room.

  I had Carly in my arms, but truth be told, I was probably shaking harder than she was. The little girl—the same one who had just watched her mother burn to death—sat scribbling inside a coloring book with a black marker.

  Amanda still lay there, covered over with a sheet so that Carly didn’t have to see it. I would have taken her away, brought her into another room or outside or something, but we weren’t sure if Santa was actually gone and, given the fact he had just effectively handed us our asses, it was best we stay put and not risk further inciting him.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked, leaning forward and whispering into her ear. “The police are here. They’re going to take care of everything.”

  I hoped that comforted her more than it did me. Truth be told, I had no idea if they could take care of anything, let alone this. Carly’s mother was dead and, for all I knew, the little girl would spend Christmas morning in foster care.

  “I heard,” she said flatly. “You partner is loud.”

  Abram, a few police officers, and the balding man from Main Street—the one who read from the list—funneled into the room.

  One of the police officers pointed to the blanket. “This is where it happened, Mr. Mayor.”

  No shit. Who the hell hired Captain Obvious?

  The mayor looked from me to Abram and back again. “And the two of you were here?”

  “We were trying to save her,” I answered, Carly still in my lap.

  “And how did that work out for you, my dear?”

  Abram growled from beside him. “You don’t sound very grateful.”

  He was more on edge than usual, and a glance outside the window told me why. Night had full descended, which meant the pull of the moon was already trying to coax out the beast, which by now was undoubtedly creeping closer to the surface.

  The mayor, obviously unaware of this fact, turned to my beastly boyfriend. “And what exactly is there to be grateful for, sir? Everything that would have happened without your unwanted interference still happened. The only difference I can see is that poor Ms. Carter died in a much more gruesome and painful manner than anyone facing her situation ever has before. So, is that what I’m supposed to thank you for, sir? Should I thank you for putting that woman through agony for absolutely no reason?”

  “We’re trying, and that’s more than I can say for any of you sonsofbitches!” Abram said through clenched teeth that were noticeably turning into fangs.

  “Perhaps that’s because we know better than to think we can actually do any good,” Mayor Mc-Moron said, actually sticking his finger into Abram’s chest.

  This mental defect must have had a death wish.

  “I told you to leave,” the mayor continued. “We all did. That wasn’t just for your safety, son.” He dropped his hand and puffed out his chest, though his belly still stuck out farther. “This has been going on for sixty years, and for sixty years we’ve managed to get through it with minimal losses. Who knows what sort of chaos you’ll stir up if you keep meddling?”

  “So you don’t care!” Abram said, chest heaving. “You’re satisfied to just give your people to that monster! You’re practically feeding them to it!”

  Abram’s face was beginning to turn now. For his part, the mayor didn’t seem too concerned, which either meant he was the biggest idiot on the planet or, like Dudley, he had seen enough craziness that this wasn’t even a blip on his radar. Either way, he was about to goad my boyfriend into giving him a makeover—and not the kind you see on a runway.

  I stepped between Abram and the mayor and put my hand on my boyfriend’s chest, making soothing circles with my fingers. “Enough, Abram. Everyone needs to take a moment to breathe.”

  He stared down hungrily into my eyes, but within a few moments, his beastliness receded, and his breathing calmed.

  I turned to the mayor. “You might think you can just let this ride,” I said, “but I promise you can’t. Magic doesn’t work like that. I bet he’s already getting hungrier. More people are dying, aren’t they? That list just keeps getting bigger and bigger, doesn’t it?”

  The look on his face told me I was right. And here he was trying to pin it on us. Disgusting. I bet there was some part of him that was happy we were here—scapegoats to provide to the townspeople on why things were getting worse.

  I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at the pathetic man. “That’s the way it’ll keep going. In sixty more years, he’ll probably be killing people on Thanksgiving and Halloween. In a hundred, your great grandkids will probably have to look under their beds for a boogeyman that strikes every other night.” Now I shoved my finger into his chest. “Even if you could satisfy whatever this thing posing as Santa Claus is with just a couple of people a year, then what would it cost you? Are you ready to give your soul, Mr. Mayor? Because that’s what it costs to let this evil happen and do nothing about it.”

  Abram’s hand took mine, his pulse racing against my palm. He was still angry, and the beast was still raging. I needed to get him out of here before he lost control.

  I dropped my finger from the mayor’s chest and pointed at Carly. “What are your plans about her?”

  The mayor scoffed. “We’ll see to it she’s taken care of, obviously,” he said, the offense in his voice both unmistakable and unjustified. “Self-righteous as you two may be, you’ve done enough here.”

  It didn’t feel right, leaving that girl in their care. But there was only so much we could do, and if we really wanted to fight for the best future for that child, we needed to fight for the best future for this town. Besides which, there was no getting around our lack of jurisdiction here.

  I sighed around the pain in my chest. Whatever was going to become of Carly would be town business. Hopefully, she had an aunt or a grandmother, or at the very least a family friend who could take her in.

  All Abram and I could do for her was the same thing we could do for everyone in this town, whether they wanted us to or not.

  Take down Santa Claus.

  *

  The moon hung like a warning in the sky as we walked through the woods. This wasn’t the quickest way back to the lodge, but we were much less likely to run into people this way. And, given the state Abram was in when we left the house, keeping away from innocent people seemed like a good idea.

  Still, curse-amplifying-moon aside, Abram seemed to be more in control than he had been while confronting the mayor. There was only the smallest hint of an edge—a sharpness to his features and a heat to the way he moved—to betray the beast churning inside him.

  “Are you tired?” he asked, his voice an octave deeper than usual.

  “Does it matter? There’s no time to sleep,” I lamented. “With Amanda dead, a new name is bound to show up on that damn list. What’s that Frost poem say? Miles to go before we sleep?”

  Abram moved in front of me, taking my arms in his hands and squeezing just enough so that I knew he was there.

  “It’s Christmas, Charisse. It’s my first Christmas with you, the first one that’s mattered to me in over a hundred years.”

  He stared into my eyes, something flickering in his gaze. It was desire—whether his or the beast’s, it didn’t matter. Something was stirring inside of him, something for me. His hands slid roughly down my arms and to my hips.

  “I want to give you what you deserve, Charisse. I want it to be perfect. I want it to matter.”

  “Everything you do with me matters,” I answered, breathless as his hands pressed into my hips. He stepped forward,
pushing me back against a tree. “But there’s no time, Abram.”

  “There’s never any time,” he said. “What’s the point in all of this if we can’t have what we want? If we can’t have what we need? Without that, we turn into these people, empty and biding time until the next tragedy.” He stepped in closer, and my chest heaved with a sharp intake of breath. “I won’t turn into them, Charisse, and I won’t let you turn into them either.” His breath landed hot against my cheek as he leaned in. “I brought you here. I took our first Christmas away from you.” His hands slid to my ass, grasping it tightly. “Let me make it up to you.”

  Something feral lit up his face, a hunger that sent sparks flying up and down my spine. But this wasn’t right. I had to pull away. I had to—

  “This isn’t you,” I said breathlessly, biting my lip to keep from groaning. “This is the beast.”

  “I am the beast.” He pressed in closer, hands firm and dominating on my ass. The proof of his attraction crushed against my leg—hot, stiff, urgent. “You bring it out of me.”

  “Abram, we’re outside.” My mouth was dry, my body trembling, my face burning with a flush. “Anyone could come.”

  “We’re in the woods, Charisse,” he whispered into my ear, biting my lobe as he pushed my legs apart. “And the only one who’ll be coming is you.”

  His hand slipped between my thighs and his finger slid against the moisture pooling there as he pushed my underwear aside.

  “Abram…” I breathed. “I don’t think—”

  “Good idea, Ms. Bellamy,” he said huskily. “Stop thinking.”

  I bit my lip, knowing that as much as the sensible side of me wanted to stop him, the sensual side of me did not. Abram had a way of knowing what I wanted even when I didn’t want to admit it.

  Abram grabbed the underside of my thigh and pulled my leg up around his waist while his other hand left the warmth between my legs to unzip his pants. Moments later, he entered me faster than ever before.