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

by Michele Bardsley

  Minutes later, they were once again lost in the moment.

  ***

  Six months later

  “Move it a bit over to the right,” Rachel studied the placement of the crib, her pretty face pinched in concentration. “What do you think?”

  Roderick came over to where she sat and pressed a kiss to her brow, his hand moving automatically to her swollen belly. “What I think doesn’t matter. I want you to be happy.”

  The curve of her lips brightened the room, and he kissed her again lightly.

  They’d set up a crib, small dresser and changing table in the spare bedroom next to theirs. It was all set to be the baby’s nursery.

  He bent to pick up a framed photograph of them in Italy from its box. “I’m glad we got that couple to take a picture of us in Florence. I like to see this reminder of when we finally agreed to be together.”

  Her fingers traced across her swollen stomach and her eyes met his. “Yes, I had to have a souvenir of our honeymoon for the baby.”

  It was hard not to linger on the soft curve of her lips. She was getting uncomfortable, their child would be born soon, and so he’d kept from taking her in bed. The last time they’d made love although erotic, had been awesome until he’d stayed up the rest of the night worried he’d hurt her or the child. By her snores and deep sighs, Rachel slept soundly, seeming more content than contrite. Yet he vowed not to have sex until she delivered, which would be any day now.

  “We did it kind of backwards don’t you think? Honeymoon before the wedding.” Roderick laughed and broke his train of though. “But it worked for us.”

  Rachel slid to the edge of the seat and he helped her to her feet.

  She took the picture from him and held it up against the wall over the crib; she turned to look at him. “What do you think?”

  Love for her and the happiness she’d brought into his long and lonely life filled him. He could only nod in response, words not getting past the knot in his throat.

  Her eyes softened. “I’m glad you are able to take a couple days off from the hospital to help me set up the nursery. Our son will be here soon and I want everything just right.”

  She watched him hammer a nail into the wall and carefully hang the picture. Her eyes had filled with tears.

  He came closer to cradle her in his arms, and pushed the hair out of her face. “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

  “You hate your new job don’t you?” She sniffed and pushed her face into the space between his neck and shoulder. “Because of me and all that mess with the stupid demon, you can’t do what you were destined to. I know you miss being a Protector. Hate being stuck at the hospital while Cyn and Fallon do whatever it is they do.”

  “I don’t hate being a doctor. I save lives instead of taking them, it’s rewarding. I still help the guys out when they need me. Besides, not putting my life in danger on a regular basis means I’ll definitely be around for you and the baby.”

  “That’s true.” With a wide smile she threw her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers. “I love you so much,” she pressed kisses all over his face.

  A chuckle escaped and she frowned up at him.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “That I never thought I could be so happy. I’ll love you forever.” He said, not quite being honest. He wasn’t sure of her reaction to him thinking it comical how pregnancy affected her emotions.

  “Oh Rod, you make me so happy.” Rachel sighed against him.

  That after all these years he’d found a renewed purpose in life beside a woman, didn’t cease to surprise him.

  Yes, he missed spending his nights out on the Atlanta streets battling those that sought to hurt innocents, but he wouldn’t trade his life with Rachel and the son he’d soon meet for anything in the world.

  Perhaps Julian would change his mind one day and allow him to join the Protectors again. For now, he accepted the punishment. Such as it was.

  Secretly he hoped the Roman would not seek his sword arm until his son was old enough to understand. Especially since one day his son would join the Protectors himself.

  There was no choice; any son sired by a Protector was predestined. Rachel didn’t know yet. There was plenty of time for that conversation.

  “I’m hungry.” His beautiful wife tugged his hand toward the kitchen. “Want some ice cream?”

  Roderick followed her from the room. “Anything is good as long as I share it with you.”

  Her delighted giggle died as his lips moved over hers. Then she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him tight against her.

  “I can’t wait until we can have monkey sex again.” She murmured against his lips. “I miss seeing you naked.”

  “Want me to strip?” He offered and she laughed. “A strip tease and ice cream. Now that is every woman’s dream come true.”

  EPILOGUE

  Sixteen years later

  “Brock!” Rachel called from the kitchen. “Sweetheart, please answer the phone, it might be your dad.” She finished slicing cucumbers and tossed them into the salad bowl. Once the salad was finished, she’d pour a glass of wine and relax until dinnertime.

  She glanced through the opening of the kitchen towards the family room where Brock played a video game. The house phone rang again. “Get the phone!” she yelled louder in case he wore headphones.

  Ever since he’d been grounded from using his cell phone, the house phone rang nonstop. Some kind of punishment it turned out to be. The phone calls never stopped.

  Any calls she got came to her cell directly.

  The insistent ringing stopped and she let out a sigh.

  Her chest constricted and she frowned. For some reason she’d been on edge all day barely able to concentrate. She wrapped the salad bowl with plastic wrap and placed it in the refrigerator.

  She’d call Roderick and ensure all was well Rachel thought looking around the space for her cell.

  “Brock, do you see my phone?” She called out. Instead of a reply, the lanky boy walked in holding the cell phone out to her. She eyed his mused hair, the same striking silver as his father’s. Brock blew a lock out of his eyes. “It’s Uncle Cyn; he says it’s important.”

  “Son, comb your hair. It’s almost time for your dad to get home. We’ll have dinner then.” Rachel waited for him to leave before bringing the phone to her ear.

  “How are you Cyn?” She heard Roderick’s closest friend clear his throat and her stomach clenched. “What’s wrong?”

  “Roderick’s been taken.”

  The stilted words filtered past the shock and ringing in her ears only to confuse her. Surely she’d misheard him. “What did you say? That’s not possible, he called earlier and said he was going into surgery.”

  “He must have gone outside the hospital this afternoon. Maybe someone called him to come out, or could have taken a break. Hell I don’t know.”

  She stumbled backwards and stuck out a hand grabbing the counter to steady herself. “How can you be sure he was taken? Did someone see something?”

  “Yeah, there was a call to the local authorities by a hysterical nurse who witnessed several men grabbing Roderick and forcing him into the back of a van.” His voice cracked. “Rachel I’m sorry, but from the details, we’re sure it was demons.”

  “Why would they take him? He’s not working with you right now. It makes no sense.”

  “Which made it easier for them to do so. His guard was down. I can’t see any other way they could have done it. Roderick is one of the strongest Protectors. They had to have done something or said something that made it easy to get him to go with them. I was worried about Brock until he answered the phone.”

  She let out a breath. “What happens now?”

  “Julian is on his way here to Atlanta. Just make sure you keep Brock inside. I’m going to patrol with Fallon. Kieran will head there shortly,” he said referring to his brother. “Turn on the alarm system.”

  All breath left her body and she collap
sed onto a chair, her eyes jerking to the doorway hoping Brock did not overhear. “Cyn, is he alive?” She whispered.

  “I don’t know.”

  The End

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Hello, dear reader. Writing is my dream come true. There is nothing I love more than bringing my characters and stories to life and sharing them with you.

  I live in a small town in Georgia with my husband and two unruly Chihuahuas.

  I had fun writing this story. If you enjoyed Choices, please recommend it to your friends and family. I would sincerely appreciate a review.

  I love hearing from my readers and always excited when you join my newsletter to keep abreast of new releases and other things happening in my world. Newsletter sign up: http://goo.gl/PH6D00

  Other important links:

  Website: http://www.HildieMcQueen.com

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/HildieMcQueen

  Email: mailto:Hildie@HildieMcQueen.com

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/HildieMcQueen

  Tsu: https://www.tsu.co/HildieMcQueen

  Instagram: @HildieWrites

  Keep Calm and Read On!!

  Other Works by H.M. McQueen

  (In reading order)

  Immortal Protectors

  Choices

  Betrayal

  Surrender

  Possession

  Obsession

  Devlin Beach Wolves

  Mated

  Taken

  Claimed

  Atlandia Chronicles

  Ruling Esland

  Yule’s Fallen Angel

  A MacLomain and Calum’s Curse Series Holiday Novella

  By

  Sky Purington

  Copyright © 2015 Sky Purington

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of these books may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Edited by Cathy McElhaney

  Cover Art by Tamra Westberry

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To all the wonderfully talented authors in this boxed set.

  It has been such a pleasure working with you.

  Though none of you knew it, you lent me Christmas cheer when I needed it most.

  Chapter One

  Christmas Day

  11:55 PM

  “BUNCH OF BLOODY bastards,” Cullen muttered under his breath, revving the engine of his custom built V-Rod motorcycle. “C’mon then.”

  The roar of his enemies might still be a mile away, but he heard them coming. Close. Closer. A second after they screamed by he flew after them and shot up the interstate. The last place he wanted to be was heading north, but here he was.

  Chasing ghosts.

  Literally.

  The Ghost of Christmas Present drove an expensive red sports car. The Ghost of Christmas Future, a practical green hatchback. No sign of the Ghost of Christmas Past. Hallelujah. Hopefully, that troublesome mongrel was where he belonged.

  In the past.

  Cullen tore after them, grateful it was nearly midnight and few cars speckled the freeway. Still, it would be damn tricky to stop the ghosts without causing havoc. But he needed them off the road before they vanished at midnight. His only advantage? They still thought he was ahead of them. Throttling the bike, he swung in between the two cars.

  The Ghost of Christmas Future narrowed his beady eyes. The Ghost of Christmas Present shot him a sultry wink and licked her full lips before she swerved her car and tried to clip him. It took everything he had to ignore her appearance. One he had not seen in far too long.

  He pushed aside old memories. She was nothing but an illusion.

  Cullen shot out ahead and drew them off the exit. Icy rain started falling as he took a left at the end of the ramp. Yet another reason not to be heading toward New England. The blasted weather. Should he have traded in his bike for a car? Probably. But no greater freedom existed on Earth than his motorcycle.

  At least not anymore.

  Cullen banked bitterness over his clipped wings and focused on the pesky entities squealing after him. They had been tracking him on and off for over a day. Unlike most ghosts, they could only manifest around a person if they wished them near. Having known the intrusive wraiths for centuries, the last thing he would have done is wished for them. Either way, in less than a minute his worries would be over. As of midnight, they would be goners for another year.

  But not necessarily their cars.

  That was the sole reason he led them down this road. No traffic. Better yet, a desolate construction site just ahead. So when they poofed away, nobody would get hurt by their abandoned cars.

  Fifteen seconds and counting.

  Adrenaline rushing, he pushed the bike to its limit. Sleet stung. Frigid wind gusted.

  Fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven…

  Glittering white Christmas lights flickered further down the street. He narrowed his eyes. They lit an angel statue falling over in the wind.

  A statue meant to trigger memories.

  Ten, nine, eight, seven…

  Cullen grimaced, unable to stop the images flashing in his mind. A woman. A medieval Scottish village. Sacrifice. Love. He tried to make his mind go blank like he had on the freeway. No such luck.

  Six, five, four…

  Bombarded by memories, he didn’t throttle down fast enough to take the last turn. His bike started to slide. Sparks flew. Metal screeched. The angel rushed up.

  Three, two…

  The last thing Cullen saw as he slid to a stop was not a Christmas angel but the ghost he had hoped to avoid.

  One…

  “I didn’t think I’d catch you in time.” The Ghost of Christmas Past crouched and gripped Cullen’s shoulder. “Why don’t we turn back the clock just a smidge?”

  Christmas Eve Day

  Salem, Massachusetts

  Thirty-eight Hours Earlier

  HARK! THE HERALD angels sing, "Glory to the newborn King!"

  Cullen blinked then squinted as sunlight glinted off the fender of a sleek, black car parked in front of him. He turned down the music and shook his head as words embossed across the top of the windshield snapped into focus.

  Worldwide Paranormal Society.

  “Damn it,” he said, rubbing his sore leg as he acclimated to his surroundings. He sat next to the Ghost of Christmas Past in a nineteen fifties pick-up truck. “Where’s my bike, Gop?”

  Gop was short for Gopima. Ghost of Pain in My Arse. A nickname Cullen gave him a long time ago.

  “Pleasant as ever, eh Cullen?” Gop tossed him a flask. “Drink up. Good whiskey always soothes the pallet after a little time travel.”

  “I’ve had enough time travel to last a lifetime,” he growled but wasn’t above taking a swig. “This doesn’t look like any past I’ve lived.”

  “No,” Gop informed. “It’s more of an alternate past.”

  Cullen sighed. Gop was always up to something. “So how far back in time did we travel?” He took in the tiny ghost’s kilt, boots, and tunic. “And what the hell are you wearing?”

  “Just a day or so back in time.” Gop smirked. “I thought ye’d like the outfit. Take ye back to a time when ye had no worries.”

  “Lose the accent. You’re no Scot.” Cullen took a longer drag of whiskey. “And as I remember it, there were nothing but worries in medieval Scotland.” He wanted to talk about his past like he wanted a bullet to the head so he nodded at the black car. “Is that why you and your sidekicks were chasing me?”

  “They’re not my sidekicks,” Gop said with disdain. “What do I want with the present and future?” He rolle
d his eyes, voice as tiny as him. “But yes. If you’d just answered the Worldwide Paranormal Society’s summons and accepted their protection, you could’ve made life a lot easier for yourself…and for her.”

  Cullen’s eyes shot to Gop. “Her?”

  Gop flicked his wrist and the car door swung open before he crawled out, mumbling, “I can’t stand being this small. You need to take a closer look at your past.”

  He grinned as he got out. Gop always appeared to people in relation to how they viewed their past. In Cullen’s case, his was the size of what he could see in the rearview mirror of his bike. Small and worth forgetting. “Her who, Gop?”

  But he had a feeling he already knew. The little ghost wobbled toward the woods, waving him along. “Come on, Highlander. Let’s see if we can put those clipped wings to good use.”

  Cullen leaned against the truck, crossed his arms over his chest and eyed their desolate surroundings. “You’ve got a few questions to answer before I go anywhere. First, where’s my bike? Second, what lass are you referring to?”

  “Not as sharp as you used to be, are you, warlock?” Gop put his hands on his hips and shook his head, faded gray hair flopping in his eyes. Gray and dull to reflect Cullen’s view of his past.

  “Did you not appreciate the fallen angel statue I used to lure you here?” Gop continued.

  “Right,” Cullen said, less-than-impressed. “Make me, the fallen angel, remember everything I gave up when I ascended. Which, one way or another, led me to embrace evil and become a warlock. Got it. Not exactly something I want to remember.” His tone turned careful. “And there’s only one lass I’d associate with becoming an angel to begin with.”

  “Ah, yes.” Gop’s height increased a scant fraction and his skin took on a healthier glow as Cullen’s past became less shadowed. “I was hoping to wait until we got to the lodge to fill you in but since you insist…”