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

by Michele Bardsley

  A bolt of energy fizzled throughout the room, and without bothering to say goodbye, Skadi disappeared in a puff of silver glitter.

  Jericha crossed her arms and shook her head. She didn’t know what she liked most about Skadi… her warmth or her charm.

  Chapter Six

  Blood

  ***

  Standing in front of the butcher shop, Jericha contemplated going inside. The next few moments would seal the paranormal deal, so to speak. If she purchased and then dined upon blood, it would mean she really was some type of iced vampire thing.

  A woman stepped outside from a neighboring shop, just as Jericha found the courage to go inside. The middle-aged woman was holding a white bakery box and a grocery bag from Tillie’s Market. She smiled at Jericha, when she spotted her.

  “Wonderful night, isn’t it, dear?”

  Normally, Jericha would strike up a conversation with the nice chatty lady, but that night, all she could muster was a huge fake smile and a quick wave, before she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The smell of fresh blood hit her at the same moment a glare from an overhead light caused her to squint her eyes.

  Her bleary vision quickly acclimated, and she spotted a long glass-covered display case, which stretched across the small space, where customers could gaze inside, to choose their favorite cuts of meat. Tables and chairs were pushed up against a wall that was lined with dark tinted windows, draped at the top with scalloped red and white checkerboard valances. A counter, connected to the display case, running longways, formed a partition, which separated the customers from the back area.

  Jericha shut the door behind her. Forcing her breathing to slow, she made her way over to the counter with sure purposeful steps. When she got there, she saw a black box with Push for Service written on it, so she pressed it. A long buzz sounded. After a few seconds, no one appeared, so she called out.

  “Hello.”

  Her voice was shaky and low. After a deep throat clearing, she tried again, that time, louder.

  “Is anyone here?”

  A man appeared from behind a red curtain. It was a thick material that hung from a two-door-wide frame, blocking off the view to the back of the shop. His stride was labored and uneven, as he stepped up to the counter. He seemed to favor his right leg.

  The young man wore black-rimmed glasses that framed his big eyes. He was tall and lean and wore a flannel shirt, with loose-fitting jeans. With a takeout cup of coffee in his hand, he appeared to be harmless enough and maybe even handsome, in a boyish way. His green eyes flicked from Jericha, to the card she held out in her hand. After he read it, his jaw ticked.

  “What can I help you with today, miss?”

  Should I just come right out with it and ask him for blood?

  She didn’t want to sound like some kind of deranged lunatic, so she decided to be more discreet.

  “I’m supposed to give you this?” she asked, while handing over the card. She rocked back on her heels, as she waited for him to initiate and point out the elephant in the room.

  He set his cup down next to the register and nudged his glasses over the bridge of his nose.

  “You need blood.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  She looked away from him, her eyes focused on a sticker placed across the back of the register that read: Cash Only.

  Damn it!

  She felt her pockets for money and breathed a sigh of relief, when she felt a small roll of twenties in the right front one. They were tips from the prior night. And oddly enough, the money was earned from the same shop where Dan the Butcher had purchased his to-go coffee. It made her wonder why she’d never run into him before.

  “Well?”

  Oh, yeah, the blood thing.

  Her stomach grumbled, and she ignored it. Digging inside the pocket of her jeans, she pulled out sixty dollars in twenties.

  “I need whatever this will buy me.”

  He narrowed his eyes on the cash, before ambling around the counter. After locking the door and flipping the Open sign to Closed, he made his way toward the rear.

  “What you need is kept in the back. Come on. I’ll get you set up.”

  She swallowed a nervous lump and watched, as the strange man disappeared behind the curtain.

  You have no reason to be scared, because nothing bad or serial-killer-ish ever happens in the back of a butcher shop… right?

  ***

  As Jericha entered the room, her eyes focused on the man’s lean back. He was pulling out a round black squat container from a large stainless steel fridge. She noticed the top of the lid was stamped with a skull and crossbones.

  She cleared her throat.

  “That’s not very much for sixty dollars.”

  He cocked a highbrow.

  “Actually, you’ll still owe me forty dollars. Fresh processed cow’s or pig’s blood usually goes for around a hundred bucks a pint.”

  “Hmmm. How many pints of blood will I need to drink a day?”

  “One or two of ‘em. Maybe even three if you happen to be the binge-eater type.”

  “You’ve got to be joking. That’s….” She counted it up in her head, and her eyes went wide. “That’s highway robbery!”

  One hundred to three hundred dollars a day to feed? Instead of a sugar daddy, I’m gonna need to find myself a blood daddy, or buy myself a cow!

  Disgusted by that last thought, her nose crumpled.

  The man shrugged and said, “Sorry. I don’t make the prices. My dad does.” He reached up and rubbed his thin chin between his fingers. “You know, I could ask him to give you a special rate, considering you’re a townie.”

  “How did you know I live here in town?” she asked, quirking a brow.

  As he placed the black container inside a to-go bag, he glanced over at her.

  “I’ve seen you around. Here…” He handed her the bag. “Sixty dollars is good for now. Like I said, I’ll talk to my dad.”

  She reached for the bag, asking, “Dan the Butcher is your father?”

  “Yeah, you’ll see him. He’ll be the old guy that looks just like me. Anyways, I’m Ander.”

  Jericha gave Ander the small roll of twenties she had clenched in her hand.

  “Thank you, Ander.”

  He smiled. Straight white teeth gleamed underneath the flickering overhead lights. She didn’t see any fangs, so Ander, the butcher’s son, was most likely a human.

  “Why do you do this? I mean, help vampires? Aren’t you scared they’ll bite you?”

  “Besides the fact that it’s very profitable, I was born into this business. My family has been aiding vampires for generations.”

  Jericha trailed her fingers over the pint of blood inside the bag. The thought of consuming its contents sounded like Heaven to her burning gut.

  As if he knew what was on her mind, Ander turned and strolled out of the room, but not before saying, “Feel free to use the microwave in the corner. You’ll find that it’s more enjoyable when it’s warmed up.”

  “All right.”

  Once Ander disappeared, Jericha lifted the container from the bag and then plucked the lid off. Its rich scent flooded the air, thick enough for her to take a bite out of it. The thought of drinking blood should have made her want to retch, or at the very least, turned her stomach, but all it did was make her mouth water in anticipation. She eyed the microwave, watching the numbers, as they counted down to… Bzzzzz!

  I’m really going to do this.

  A few seconds later, she was tipping the plastic edge against her bottom lip. The first drop that touched her tongue sent a jolt of euphoria sizzling down her throat. After that first taste, she threw back her head and gulped the rest of the blood down. The change in her body temperature was instant, and the pain that was wrenching at her gut… gone. Jericha sighed.

  Damn, that tastes sooo good.

  So it was true, then. She should have been seriously annoyed by the life sentence of drinking blood that had been thrust
upon her, but she was only mildly perturbed. Truth be told, it was the best thing she’d ever tasted—even better than chocolate. And since her circumstances had changed, she would need to learn how to be resourceful in her acquisition of her meals. There was no way she could ever afford to pay for the fresh stuff, even with a generous townie discount.

  When Jericha returned to the front of the butcher shop, Ander was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t stop to look for him and continued to walk straight out of the door. Her steps felt lighter, her eyesight even better than before she’d arrived.

  She took two steps outside, and her entire body instantly sucked up the cold. Each pore prickled, as it fed off of the freezing temperature. She stared around, until her eyes latched onto a woman, who was in a rush to get across the street. What the woman neglected to notice, looming before her, was a huge patch of ice.

  Jericha’s stare narrowed on that ice at the same moment the woman’s boot came down on it. First the toe of her boot lifted up, and then her arms whipped out to steady herself. In a flash of thought, Jericha built up the ice at the woman’s heel. She felt it, as her magic reached out, moving just enough ice to keep the woman from falling back and cracking her head… or worse. After regaining her footing, the woman looked around, cheeks red with embarrassment.

  Astounded at what she’d just done, Jericha shuffled back against the storefront window, shaky hands covering her mouth.

  Did that really just happen?

  Her eyes fell, to find the back of her hands were paler than usual, almost as white as the snow at her feet. The changes Skadi had spoken of were coming on more rapidly, since she’d fed on blood. The sweet sustenance made everything more beautiful and made her even stronger.

  She dropped her hands and walked back out into the falling snow. Even the sounds of the Christmas lights strung along the storefront rafters buzzed wildly with life. She blinked, turned, and began the short walk back to her apartment.

  That may not have been the life she’d planned for herself, but it was a life she could easily get used to, especially if it enabled her to help others.

  She giggled at the thought of buying a red cape.

  Chapter Seven

  Ice

  ***

  Screech! Bam!

  Back at her apartment, Jericha jumped across the room, landing softly in front of the window. With her heart pounding, she saw her car, still idling, sitting diagonally across three parking spots.

  Where did it come from?

  Confused, she peered through the fogged-out windshield but couldn’t see a driver. Rather than running downstairs to suss things out, she remained rooted in place, waiting for something else to happen. Turned out, she didn’t have to wait long.

  The passenger-side door opened slightly, only to immediately swing back shut. Seconds later, it was pushed wide open, and that time, it remained. A cold shiver ran across the tops of her brows. Keeping her eyes trained on the car door, she swiped at her forehead with a knuckle and found a line of frost forming there.

  Shit. The chill has begun. So if what Skadi showed me of my sperm donor’s past is true, I need to feed again… and soon!

  With her newfound super-human senses, Jericha heard the chattering of little voices. She bit the inside of her cheek, shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and waited.

  Three tiny men barreled out from behind the car door, one of them tripping over his own two feet. They all wore green suits that reminded her of Santa’s elves.

  Jericha stood, gaping at the trio for a moment, watching, as they ran for the entrance to her apartment building. She forced herself to turn away from the window and took a step back. Panic flared, along with a good dose of bravery.

  She stormed toward her front door and swung it open, just in time for the teeny guys to reach the top of the landing. She met their stares, but before anyone could say a word, their faces twisted in fright, and then all three of them rushed at her. One of the little shits ran between her legs, and the other two shoved past her, on their way inside the apartment.

  Jericha didn’t know what to do, so she did the only totally insane thing she could think of. She stepped inside after them. Her back slammed against the door, as she shut it. She turned the lock on the doorknob, just in case whatever had spooked them was real, alive, and as scary and nasty as their expressions led her to believe.

  “How in the hell did you get my car here?” she demanded, looking down on all three of her unwanted houseguests.

  One of them shrugged, and in a whistled voice, said, “It took some doin’, but we figured out how to drive it.”

  Jericha crossed her arms.

  “Is that so? Which one of you grew tall enough to reach both peddles?”

  This should be interesting.

  In a singsong cadence, all three chimed, “We all did.”

  “But Kole,” said the youngest-looking one, pointing at the elf with a beard and rounded tummy, “did all of the steering.”

  Like a litter of kittens that had escaped their box, the elves began to dance around the apartment. Kole skittered over to the window, leapt up into a front tuck flip, and with nimble feet, landed on the sill. With a whistle, he started cranking the window open.

  “It’s way too hot in here, Frost! Sirius, Yule, you guys know what to do!”

  She glared at the elf on the window sill.

  “What, exactly, are they going to do?”

  With rosy cheeks, Kole inhaled the winter air, spilling in from outside, and smiled.

  “I’m following the big guy’s orders.”

  She had no idea who the big guy was, but she couldn’t argue the fact that as the temperature in the room dropped, her entire being felt better. She was pretty sure that was how it was supposed to be—her new life sustained by blood, and her new abilities fueled with ice. The way her body had reacted to the blood she drank at the butcher shop and her ability to save the woman crossing the street with ice magic were evidence of that.

  A loud crash had Jericha whirling around.

  Yule and Sirius had been busy carrying out Kole’s orders. They were hopping from one place, to the next, and each time they touched something, like Jericha’s favorite Tiffany lamp that she read by at night, it was turned to solid ice.

  Her jaw tightened.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Making you more comfortable,” Yule said, as he hopped over to a tall bookshelf.

  Most of Jericha’s prized possessions, books and the glass ballerina figurines she’d collected as a child, rested there.

  “No!” she yelled, as her hand swung out.

  From the tips of her fingers, a blast of white light shot forward, hitting the elf in the shoulder. The impact flipped him backwards, in midair, and he landed flat on his back on the floor. Ice spread out in reaching branches, frosting the wooden planks underneath him. Like the elves, Jericha could turn objects into snow or ice. The elf seemed a little dazed from the blast, but he was unharmed. As he stood up, he shook his head to clear it.

  With a devious smile, his hand came up with return fire. She tried to dodge it but didn’t react fast enough. The white blast hit her square in the gut, knocking the air from her lungs, but doing nothing more than that.

  Yule giggled.

  “That was fun! Can we play some more?”

  Before she could curse the little shit and all his forebears, she heard loud thuds, echoing from the hallway.

  “Hide!” one of the elves yelled.

  Chapter Eight

  Fire

  ***

  The front door burst open. In the hallway, standing tall and imposing, was a hard body of sculpted muscle. And in that moment, as Jericha laid eyes upon the stranger, who was wearing nothing more than a pair of faded jeans and a handsome face, she knew her life was about to change forever.

  The brute filled the doorway with his massive body, and his jet black hair lay wispy against his cheeks, like it had been combed through by heavy w
inds. His skin was a flawless shade of dark cinnamon, which made him look as if he’d spent a lot of time under the blazing sun, bronzing his skin to that deep hue. A wicked smile curved his lips, giving off the impression that he was preparing to do something roguish, maybe even devilish.

  With a fast determined stride, he lumbered his way inside the apartment, crossed the room, and stopped directly in front of Jericha. He then said three powerful words that could have shaken the foundation she stood upon… if what he said was remotely true.

  Deep set smoldering blue eyes, bright with power, found hers.

  “You are mine.”

  It felt as if Jericha had been struck hard at the sight of him. Her entire body was burning in response to his nearness. He stood close enough for her to feel a pressing heat, as it wrapped around her, warming her, stunning her into silence.

  Tiny footsteps pattered across the floor, to echo throughout the space. It was the elves, finding a place to hide, no doubt. They were smart.

  With his brows furrowed tight, the stranger looked around the room, at the noise.

  “Do you have company?”

  Jericha looked indignant, as she ignored his question, asking him one of her own.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  His stance widened, as his thumbs hooked the front pockets of his jeans. His shoulders rolled forward, as if he was settling in for a while. He smiled down at her.

  “Connor McClave is the name, and I’m here for you.”

  She choked on an exhale of laughter.

  “Oh! Is that right?”

  “It is. You are my fated mate. We are destined to be, so don’t bother fighting it.”

  He said the words like their meanings were already carved in stone.

  I’m being punked. That must be it.

  She looked around the room for hidden cameras.

  “I don’t find this silly prank of yours the least bit amusing.”

  His voice came clear and strong, when he said, “Trust me when I say that I’m completely serious.”

  She flashed him a perturbed look—the stranger who had the nerve to barge into her apartment like he owned it—and she didn’t care that he was too gorgeous to be real. He seemed to be more asshole than she could, or would, permit herself to deal with. Her arm shot out in front of her, a stiff finger pointing over his shoulder, at the hallway.