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

by Michele Bardsley

  “Some parts of me,” he granted and issued a wry, purposeful grin. “Not all.”

  “One second romancing me…” She blew hair out of her eyes. “The next getting all lewd.”

  “Lewd?” He arched a brow. “Do you not remember just how well I—”

  Treasa held up a finger and shook her head, interrupting him. “I remember how well you turned away. Sorry, but I’m not up for remembering much else right now.”

  Huffy, she pushed away from the candy cane, eyes wide when a sticky peeling sound slowed her down. “What the…” she started straining harder before thwap, the candy cane released her and she stumbled forward.

  Right into his arms.

  The angel he once was might have gently set her aside. The warlock he had become might have had enough of her attitude and shoved off. But the Highlander would always recognize that his lass was exactly where she belonged. Not giving her a chance to mutter another disgruntled word, he pulled her close, wrapped his hand in her hair and did something he figured he never would again.

  He kissed her.

  Though she stiffened, he remembered exactly how to break down her defenses. Gentle at first, he sampled, peppering light kisses against her lips until they softened. The second they parted, he took advantage. When their tongues met, over seven hundred years fell away and it felt like they kissed for the first time. For a moment he imagined he could feel the cool wind blowing through the glen and the warmth of her sun-kissed hair. Their groans mingled as she gave in to him. How could she not? They were meant for one another. Then. Now. And if he had his way, far into the future.

  “I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus. Underneath the mistletoe last night!”

  Treasa jerked away and stared up at the mistletoe suspended in the air above them. “No more, Ghost!”

  About two feet tall now with a new luster to his gray hair, Gop planted his hands on his hips, tapped a toe and glared at Cullen. “So you thought you’d get rid of us that easily, did you?”

  “I’d hoped.” Cullen frowned as he rubbed his sticky fingers together, sniffed them then eyed Treasa. “Smells like you’re covered in peppermint.”

  “And I’ll bet she tasted just as good,” Ghost tittered, shaking itself over Gop so pine needles rained down on him.

  Cullen licked his lips and kept eyeing Treasa. “Aye, and I’d like to get back to tasting her.”

  “Never gonna happen, Stewart.” She turned and frowned at the candy cane post. “Consider this your last taste of me.”

  “We’ll see.” He bit back a grin when he saw red and white stripes down her backside. “At least now your arse somewhat matches your shirt. We just need to roll you against some of those other colored candy canes too.”

  “Damn it.” Treasa scowled and peered at the back of her pant leg. “I forgot they started putting peel off candy strips on these posts.”

  “Easy enough to fix.” Cullen flicked his wrist and redressed her. “There you go. Much better.” He sniggered. “Better accessibility too.”

  “Absolutely not.” She shook her head and tried to glamor out of the medieval dress.

  “Not gonna happen.” Cullen grinned. “That’s one of the few advantages of being a warlock. I just needed a little time to figure out how your yuletide witchy powers worked so I could surpass them. Now your magic can’t override mine.” He eyed her plumped-up cleavage with appreciation. “You always did look great in that shade of green. It really brings out your eyes.”

  “Aye,” she shot back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Because it’s the color of what would’ve been my wedding dress, you bloody bastard.”

  Cullen flinched. Well, that was unfortunate. Yet when he went to flick his wrist to change it, he stopped, suddenly remembering a day from long ago. Neither of them were especially superstitious considering their era so she had shown him her wedding dress beforehand. Too vividly he recalled the light in her eyes when she twirled in front of him in the forest behind her cottage. The way they had laughed when he pulled her into his arms and danced with her.

  His chest tightened at the memory and he knew she saw the pain in his eyes. Words soft, he said, “I’m sorry, lass.”

  “Sorry for which part?” She shook her head, inhaled deeply and turned away. “Never mind. There’s no right answer to that.” Her eyes went to Ghost, who batted at Gop then darted away when the little man whacked at him. “How did you two get here so quickly? I thought Noël was keeping you busy.”

  Gop puffed up, a clever look on his face. “We pawned him off on Seth.”

  Cullen ran a hand over his face in exasperation. “Why was Seth with you? There’s a dangerous angel getting closer and closer.”

  Ghost turned back into a Christmas tree bulb and bounced back and forth on Gop’s shoulders, causing him to shrug. “I might have spoken through that digital device as what or in Seth’s case who he wanted most for Christmas,” Ghost said.

  “Then I may have looked just like his wife when he tracked me down,” Ghost continued innocently.

  “Wonderful,” Treasa said. “So now we’re stuck with the two of you again.”

  “Yep, just us. For the unforeseeable future.” Gop chuckled, pleased with himself. “Get it? You won’t be seeing the Ghost of Christmas Future for a while.”

  “I had no idea you were capable of humor,” Ghost chirped, rolling up a strand of Gop’s hair until he looked like he had a horn.

  Treasa sighed and looked skyward. “The death of my soul might just be better than this.”

  Over Cullen’s dead body. He took her hand and pulled her along. “Tell me there’s another safe haven in this place. If we’ve got to deal with those two, I’d rather do it anywhere but here.”

  “Agreed,” she said. “There are a few spots. Maybe. I’ve been working on it over the years but due to circumstances I never got around to a trial run.”

  Cullen ignored her sarcasm. “What do you mean you’ve been working on it for years?”

  “Being a yuletide witch caught between life and death, I only seem to be here, or manifest, in December,” she enlightened. “During that time, I became pretty good at influencing whoever ran this place. A whisper in the ear here, a nudge of the conscience there. I managed to have some of the buildings shaped like this or other shapes known to ward off evil.” She shrugged. “I know my ex isn’t necessarily evil but because he ushers so many to the other side, he’s become vulnerable to their superstitions.”

  “I always did like the way your mind worked.” Cullen steered her around a twirling candy cane. “Any chance these buildings ward off annoying ghosts as well?”

  Her lips hitched up, but she gave no response, likely because the objects of their conversation were staying close. He frowned when they worked their way out of the candy cane maze and he saw the driving snow outside. “What the hell? Why is it already light outside? It hasn’t been that long since midnight.”

  “It’s part of the curse, I’d say,” Gop said matter-of-factly, just tall enough to peer out the bottom of the window, his hair a tad thicker. “You’re both from another time so things are off. This yuletide is perhaps mimicking one you experienced long ago so in effect it will be far shorter.” He glowered up at Cullen. “Much like how you see me.”

  “Christmastide ended too soon for me that year,” Treasa murmured.

  There was no need to ask what year. He knew. “I might’ve left, but technically the day still went on and was as whole as any other.”

  For a moment, he thought he saw moisture in her eyes but she blinked it away then frowned. “But this is my curse and for me, that day ended far too soon.”

  Though tempted to pull her into his arms and soothe away their rocky past, he did not. Could not. On occasion, the evil he had embraced made him despondent. Even wrongfully righteous. It was an annoying part of his new personality. When mortal, even as an angel, he led, helped and protected. He was to become Laird of the Stewart Castle after his father passed on and molded his nat
ure around such responsibility. Now, he felt darkness outlining his soul and anger he barely recognized.

  Treasa’s sad eyes turned his way. “Now you’ve got me missing the good old days before all of this happened.” Cullen frowned when she flung her arms over his shoulders and nuzzled her face against his neck as much as she could with their height difference. He barely caught her muffled words through her exuberant display of sniffles. “We’re going to try to make a break for it and lose the ghosts. Focus everything you have on wanting an elf for Christmas then follow me.”

  An elf? But he knew what she must be shooting for. Ghost, the Ghost of Christmas Present, would be obligated to become that. So when Treasa tore away and bolted out the door, he followed, craving an elf like no full-grown man should.

  As he ran after her, he scanned their surroundings for Death. Almost as if the angel had been waiting, wind whipped around Treasa. Never losing the image of a curly-booted, squat elf, Cullen grabbed Treasa’s wrist and pulled her free. When they spun, the snow in front of them darkened into a face he had not seen in ages.

  The Angel of Death.

  Running, he skidded beneath the visage, yanking Treasa right along as he chanted in Latin and tried to block him. Without Seth’s assistance, slowing the angel down would be nearly impossible.

  “Go right,” Treasa yelled as the angel warped and fought his magic.

  Cullen almost grinned. They were so young the last time they played this game. Right always meant left and vice versa. It had been a clever way to evade others when they wanted time alone in his castle.

  “You chose to leave her, Highlander,” Death roared, his voice made of whistling wind. “Now give her back.”

  As Treasa planned, Death was duped and shifted right as they flew to the left. The next thing he knew, they were in a building shaped like a star. She slammed the door shut behind them, eyes merry. “You remembered our old trick.”

  He grinned. “How could I forget?”

  Their eyes held but instead of responding to his question, she offered one of her own. “Did I forget to mention that a medieval Scottish wizard visited me a few years ago?” A mischievous smile came to her face. “He said he owed you a favor so he made sure this building, also shaped like a pentacle, would keep out all the nasties.”

  Cullen arched his brows in question.

  “Does the name Grant MacLomain ring any bells?” she said.

  Did it ever.

  Grant was there when a Celtic god banished Cullen into the future.

  Chapter Six

  TREASA BREATHED A sigh of relief. If she had been thinking, she would have brought him here to begin with. Yet truth be told, how was she supposed to know how her curse would play out? And while she might still harbor anger toward Cullen, it was impossible not to share a smile with him.

  “Grant MacLomain was like an uncle to me.” He shook his head. “I’m grateful that he helped you.”

  “And you.” She gestured at the twinkling stars and angelic figures hovering above them in the dark building. “He said there’s no such thing as an angel that stays fallen forever.”

  “Except maybe Lucifer,” he remarked, but there was a new light in his eyes.

  “True.” She shivered. “Hopefully he’ll stay the hell out of this story.”

  “God willing.” His eyes went to the window. “So how exactly did we lose the ghosts?”

  Treasa smirked. “I knew Gop wouldn’t be able to keep up at his current height. And Ghost has a soft spot for elves. As long as we both wanted one for Christmas, it would have to become one. My guess is that it did so with pleasure. I think you can fill in the blanks after that.”

  Cullen chuckled. “Christmas elves would trip if they tried to run with their big shoes and small builds.”

  “You got it.” She winked. “See, we’re both good at tricking them.”

  Maybe it was all the tension, but they ended up laughing. Real laughter. Not forced or fake but the kind that they had shared so much of in their youth.

  Cullen tilted his head and held out his hand. “Want to show me around?”

  Treasa eyed his clingy, wet black t-shirt and damp jeans. “Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

  “I’ve had my wings clipped and embraced evil.” He kept his hand held out. “Trust me, wet clothes are no big deal.”

  He made a good point she supposed. Nonetheless. “Why not manifest new clothes or dry yourself off with magic?”

  “Honestly?” Cullen gave up on waiting and took her hand. “Sometimes it’s good to remember what it feels like to be flesh and blood. To feel the weight of clothing, wet or not.”

  “Ah,” she murmured. While she might have been in this building dozens of times, the angels overhead lent her the first inkling of peace she had felt in years. Or perhaps it was the man by her side. Something stirred in her soul. Something other than bitterness. It was amazing how heartbreak could reshape a person. She had been reshaped.

  By him.

  Her.

  Their actions.

  Either because of their soothing surroundings or the loving kiss he gave her earlier, she was finally ready to look beyond the hurt and ask him questions. Ones that she swore she never would. Questions she convinced herself he would answer incorrectly. Answers that could not possibly heal the wounds left in his wake.

  “You fought to protect my village that day so long ago. You fought to protect me,” she said softly. “But that was something you had done before in many villages. Why did God seek you out that day?” She swallowed and pushed the words past her lips. “And why did you go?”

  Fortunately, the building was designed in such a way that you could walk its paths for hours. Treasa imagined Grant had done that for a reason. Maybe he wanted Cullen focused on releasing his truths rather than distracted by romance or even lust.

  A minute or two passed before Cullen finally spoke. “I assume God sought me out that day because I was at his gates. He thought I was a fierce warrior and knew I would only fight for his cause…for good.”

  “I don’t understand…” Her eyes shot to his.

  “Aye, but you do,” he murmured. “There’s only one way I could’ve ascended.”

  “You died,” she whispered. Why had that never occurred to her? Likely because of outright denial. It was one thing to think he had intentionally left her. Another thing entirely to imagine that he had died.

  “Murdered.” He clenched his jaw, a deep frown marring his face.

  When he remained silent, she urged him to continue, almost not wanting to hear the answer. “By who?”

  Cullen hesitated and she sensed his inner struggle. When he at last shared, tempered anger deepened his words. “By my own sister.” His eyes flickered to the angels then to her. “A dagger to the heart I never saw coming. It was surprisingly quick.”

  Treasa felt the blade spear her heart as surely as it had his. Voice hoarse, she said, “I’m so sorry, Cullen.”

  Yet her words did not seem enough. Never enough.

  “Don’t be. It’s over.” His eyes stayed with hers. “She fled and, for the most part, your village was saved. You were saved. When God came to me, it was with open arms. He gave me a chance to protect far more with unbelievable power. A chance to keep you protected your entire life.” Pain met his words. A pain that had nothing to do with his sister but everything to do with Treasa. “How could I say no to Him?”

  Treasa stopped and stared at him. Deep down, she always knew he had done it because he was just plain good. Kind. Caring. But never once did it occur to her that he had done it to protect her as well. All she saw was her damaged heart.

  “I’ve been pretty selfish haven’t I?” she whispered.

  “No.” Cullen’s eyes softened. “We grew up together. You were my best friend. Hell, the love of my bloody life.” He stroked her cheek. “I need your forgiveness, lass.” He shook his head. “More than I realized.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me what happened? Because of my p
owers, I saw you become an angel when nobody else could.” She put her hand over his. “It could’ve saved us both so much heartache.”

  “Could it have?” His brows drew together. “Had you known my sister killed me, you would’ve sought vengeance, likely with the help of my father. Too much grief would’ve come from that. If Brae was as dark as I speculated than you and my parents could have easily been put in harm’s way. It was better that I ascended and kept an eye on her to see what she did next.”

  “So all along you had a plan,” Treasa said. “One I’m surprised God didn’t find a little suspicious. I mean rumor has it He can see inside our hearts.”

  “And my heart was only intent on protecting those I loved,” he countered.

  “Apparently so,” she whispered.

  Treasa suddenly realized she was no longer angry with him. He had been through enough. They both had. Maybe it was time for forgiveness after all. It stunk that he chose not to be honest with her, but she understood his reasoning. She would have done anything to avenge his death. So how could she blame him for leaving her when everything he did, all his actions, were done to protect her and his kin?

  “Why did Death trap you here?” Cullen asked, cutting into her thoughts. “A Christmas attraction seems about the last place to put his ex, especially when he still seems so threatened by me, a former angel.”

  “Because I’m a witch, I think he thought you’d never look for me here.”

  As a witch, a pagan, she practiced the old ways and worshiped many gods rather than the one. Yet she and Cullen still found friendship and love despite their differences. As time went on, she had even joined him at Christmastide. Through him, she felt a kinship to the holiday. A kinship her ex evidently knew nothing about.

  “And what were the odds you’d end up in the twenty-first century?” she said.

  “Clearly odds that Death took into consideration when he cursed you.”

  “He was there that day so long ago too.” She twisted her lips and shrugged. “So he knew how upset I was with you.”