Such Violent Delights: A Holiday Paranormal Romance Anthology

by S. L. Jennings

  He has a point. “I was heading back to the little house I rented in Inverness, but I got lost. What time is it?” I glance around in search of a clock, but don’t find one anywhere.

  “It’s nearing midnight. Is there anyone expecting you to return tonight? Family? A boyfriend?”

  I shake my head. “No. I don’t have a family…or a boyfriend.”

  “Why are you here alone at Christmas?”

  “It’s my birthday. I’m twenty-seven.”

  “Congratulations.” His dry tone has me clenching my fists under the blankets.

  “This is my year of giving zero fucks. It might be stupid, but I’ve always been obsessed with the stories of Scottish witches, so I cashed in what savings I had, hopped on a plane, and treated myself to a birthday gift.”

  “You gave yourself Scotland?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And it almost killed you.”

  “Looks that way. But at least I got to see the highlands first.”

  “And now you’re naked in a Scottish castle.”

  I can’t help it. I laugh. “Speaking of that, can I have my clothes back now? Since I’m not dead and all.”

  A grin turns up one corner of his mouth. “They’re drying on a line in the washroom. But I have a shirt you can wear.” He takes off the leather jacket, revealing a flannel over a light gray T-shirt that’s stretched across a broad chest. “Here, put this on. I’ll turn around.”

  My cheeks heat at the knowledge he’s already seen me naked. Granted, I was near frozen, but naked is naked. “Thank you.”

  His strong back is to me as he faces the corner of the room, as quick as I can, I slip the shirt over my nudity. I’ve got it buttoned and am sliding out of the make-shift bed to test the fabric’s length when he asks, “Will that do?”

  The shirt hits me mid-thigh and it smells like heaven. I don’t know what combination of scents he wears, but I’m pretty sure I’ll never forget this. “All I need is a belt and I’ll be lumberjack-chic.”

  A frown furrows his brow, and a bolt of familiarity hits me square in the chest.

  I stare him down, trying to puzzle it out. “Do I know you somehow?”

  “No, we’ve never seen each other before a few hours ago.”

  “I’m Ruby.”

  He nods but doesn’t say anything.

  “And you are?” I press.

  “You can call me Gabe.”

  “Well, Gabe, as soon as my clothes are dry, I’ll get out of your hair.”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re not going anywhere in this storm. It’ll be days before the roads are clear.”

  “What?” Panic creeps up my throat. “I’m…I can’t stay here.”

  “You’re welcome to try your luck in the elements, but I guarantee, I’m less of a threat to your safety.”

  I take in his tall, broad frame, the chiseled jaw and thick blond hair. He’s dangerous in a very different way. “That’s debatable.” Walking around the space, I run my fingers over the antique table and chairs, my bare feet cold on the stone floor. “You live here?”

  “No.”

  “Then how did we get here?”

  He shrugs. “It was…available.”

  “As in…you broke in?”

  “I know the owner. They’re out of town for the holiday.”

  “Why didn’t you just drive me to a hospital?”

  That confused frown draws in his perfectly arched eyebrows again. “I don’t have a car. You were going to die. I made a decision that saved your life.”

  “Wait…so you were just out for a walk in the middle of nowhere in a snow storm?”

  “No.”

  “I’m going to need a little more information.”

  He sighs and runs a hand over his jaw. “I came for you.”

  “For me?”

  “I couldn’t leave you out there. Your life is in danger.”

  Chapter 2

  Gabriel

  Ruby’s eyes go wide, as I suspected they would, but I can’t lie to her. It’s not in my angelic nature. I always tell the truth, at least…a variation of the truth.

  “What did you just say?” she asks.

  “I intervened before someone else got to you.” Thinking of the conversation I had with my brother, the archangel Michael, only hours before I found her, I fight the wave of dread that threatens to crest.

  “Who?”

  I drag a hand through my hair, uncomfortable in these clothes, but she needs normalcy, not my usual—biker leathers and steel-toed boots. I dress that way for the irony of it all—God’s messenger dressed like one of Hell’s angels. “You’ve got quite a few beings after you.”

  “What?” Panic fills her words, and I see she’s trying to find a way out, some path that will get her out of danger. What she doesn’t know is that I’m the one thing keeping her alive. She drained me of power as I brought her back from the brink of death. I have to be careful.

  I make a show of stoking the fire. “Just be glad you’re here with me. It could’ve been much worse.”

  She stares at me in stunned silence. The only sound in the room the crackle of the fire. Then her lips spread into a wide smile, and she throws her head back, laughing. “Worse?”

  “Yes,” I tell her. I’m deadly serious.

  “My rental car broke down on Christmas Eve in the middle of the Scottish Highlands in a snowstorm. How could this be worse?”

  I can’t help myself, I cross the room and reach out to touch her soft hair. “I’m sure if you think about it for a moment, you’ll realize how this could’ve ended. And if the others find you…”

  Again, those dark chocolate eyes of hers widen. “Others? What others? I’m not anyone important, like an heiress or something. No one is after me.”

  For the first time I truly understand why my angelic brothers fell from Heaven for these creatures. Ruby and I have a connection I can’t deny. I knew it the moment I saw her in the snow. Our souls called to each other. I didn’t even need to speak to her to know. She was put on this earth for me. And that’s just one reason I have to keep her safe. If Lucifer finds her before I can get to the witches, get her to them and help her come into her power, he’ll take her and make her his.

  “This is going to sound mad, but I need you to listen to me,” I say. My whole body is tense. What is this feeling? I’ve never felt more than mild annoyance when my charges went against my orders. This is intense and…uncomfortable.

  She sits at the two-seater table and rests her chin on one hand. “Okay, go ahead.”

  I take a long breath, wondering how much to tell her right now. “You’re not simply a human. You’ve lived many lives, but you don’t remember them.”

  She cocks a brow and smirks. “Past lives? Reincarnation?”

  I shake my head. “A curse.”

  “You’re right; that does sound insane.”

  “Insane or not, it’s the truth. I’m here to help you find your place…with your coven.”

  Her beautiful mouth turns down into a frown. “My coven?”

  “You’re a witch, Ruby.”

  “A witch?” She looks around the room. “Is this like…some kind of reality show? Am I being punked?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Wait. You’re serious?”

  “I can’t lie to you. It’s not possible.”

  “You mean to tell me you think I’m really a witch? With magic spells? Do I get a broom?”

  I shake my head. “That’s not how it works.”

  She takes her lip between her teeth and frowns. “I don’t believe you.”

  Sighing, I use what little angelic grace I have left and a tall Christmas tree appears in the corner of the room. White twinkle lights strung across the branches give it a cheerful feel, and the star at the top glows as steady and strong.

  She gasps.

  “Magic is real,” I tell her. “And you have had it since birth.”

  A laug
h falls from her then, long and loud. “Okay, Hagrid.” I frown, not understanding what she finds so funny.

  “My name is Gab—” I begin, but she interrupts.

  “I’m sorry, but…look at you. You’re not exactly what I pictured as the harbinger of my fate.” She waves her hand in my general direction. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m digging the whole hot guy shepherding me into my future thing, but this is ridiculous.”

  “Hot?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Come on, you know you’re hot. Look at yourself. I wouldn’t have been surprised if your name was Adonis.”

  I grin. That’s a reference I definitely understand. It’s also true. After all, I was the inspiration for many mythical heroes, the muse for painters and sculptors. “And you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever encountered.” She doesn’t realize how important that statement is. I have never reacted to anyone like this.

  “Oh, you’re a smooth talker too.”

  “Not usually.”

  “So, who is after me?” She’s wandered to the Christmas tree, her fingers playing over the branches. The room smells of Spruce and with the roaring fire and decorated tree, our setting is more appropriate for Christmas morning with a family than dire revelations.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Lucifer.”

  All the color drains from her face as she turns to face me. “Why…why would he want me?”

  “You’re the missing member of the Siren Coven. The key to unlocking all their power. If he gets you—”

  “But he won’t now, right?” Her eyes beg me to say yes.

  “It’s why I’m here. I’ve been charged with your protection, and I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

  She stays silent, and I have to busy myself with something, take my gaze off her long legs, stop my body from reacting. I hold out my hand and wait for her to cross the room to me.

  “Where are we going?”

  I shrug. “Tea? I’ve heard tea is good in a crisis.”

  “You’re definitely British.”

  A tight laugh falls from me. I’m not. I’m beyond having any kind of heritage. “And you’re definitely American.”

  Her tempting body is too near, but I won’t leave her here in distress. She’s mine even if I can’t keep her.

  We walk through the hallway and back toward the kitchens. I’m thankful the shifter pack who owns this castle has upgraded it with modern amenities. A kettle sits on the stove, and, like all shifter homes, the cupboards are stocked.

  The two of us work in companionable silence. She searches for tea, I find mugs, she fills the kettle and sets it up to boil, I watch her move and try not to let lust get the better of me. It’s domestic and unsettling how much I like the feeling of being human with her…for lack of a better word.

  When we’re both settled at the kitchen table, tea steeped and served, she stares at me, her gaze stirring feelings in me I shouldn’t be having. “So, I’m a witch?”

  I nod in response, forcing myself to keep control of my need to touch her. Father help me, is this what the fallen feel around their soul mates? It’s nearly painful.

  “And what are you?”

  “I’m no witch, if that’s where you’re taking this.”

  She shrugs, the motion making the shirt shift and fall a little farther open. I have to bite back a groan at the swell of her breasts, barely visible in the V of exposed skin.

  “So, what then, Gabe?”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I am…an angel.”

  Her eyes widen, and she takes a sharp breath. “I knew it!” She hops up and down in her seat, clapping her hands like she’s just won a prize. “I’m not crazy. You had wings, didn’t you?”

  I nod and drag a hand through my hair. “Yes.”

  Then she brings the tips of her fingers to her lips and whispers, “You kissed me.”

  Desire burns through me at the memory of the kiss I should never have given her. “I did.”

  “Is that…normally what angels do?”

  A slight grin turns up my lips. I tell her she’s a witch, that I’m an angel, and her biggest concern is if I normally kiss people.

  “No. It’s actually highly irregular.” That doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it again…and again. I stand and take my completely full cup to the sink. “But you were dead for all intents and purposes. Sometimes it takes more than a touch. You needed my grace before your soul could return to your body.”

  “Angelic CPR?”

  “If you like.”

  “But it was still a kiss.” Yes. Yes, it was, and I want nothing more than to have a repeat performance. She stands and takes a step closer, her eyes raking my form. “I’d really like you to do it again.”

  It’s as if she echoes my thoughts, and I wonder if I revealed my desires aloud. “What?”

  “The kiss. I was mostly delirious at the time. If I’m going to remember kissing an angel, I want it to be while I’m lucid.”

  Her lips are full and plump, tempting me like ripe cherries. “That’s…that’s not what I’m here for. I shouldn’t have kissed you. If I’d been thinking clearly, I would’ve done it differently.”

  “So, you don’t want to do it again?”

  I do. I really do. “It’s not that…I shouldn’t.”

  “Says who?”

  “God,” I tell her.

  She drops her gaze, and my heart sinks. “You’re really serious, aren’t you? You’re an angel?”

  “I am.”

  She reaches up and runs her fingertips over my brow, down my cheek, and over my jaw. “Gabe,” she whispers.

  “Ruby,” I say.

  “Wait, is that short for Gabriel?”

  “Yes.”

  Her hand falls away from my face, and she steps back, wrapping her arms around her middle. “As in the archangel?”

  I nod.

  “And you’ve been sent to help me?”

  “Yes. And that’s why I can’t touch you again. If I do…I fear I won’t be able to stop.”

  Fire lights in her eyes, and she takes her lower lip between her teeth, teasing and tempting me without even realizing what she’s doing. “Have you ever…you know…been with anyone?”

  I shake my head. “It’s against the rules. Angels are meant to watch, protect, guard. We’re not supposed to be the ones who join with humans. We can’t give our hearts away and still do the job we’re made for.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “It’s why the Fallen aren’t allowed back in Heaven.”

  Her brow pulls into a frown. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “The look on your face just now. When you mentioned the Fallen, there was so much sadness in your eyes.”

  Her words hit me hard. I’ve never had a conversation like this, so candid and focused on something other than the greater good. “They are my brothers. Most of them are lost forever to darkness because they wanted more than the existence our Father gave us.”

  “Most?”

  I think back to my brothers Sariel and Tamiel. “A few found redemption. Found their happiness.”

  “But that’s not in the cards for you?”

  For the first time I wonder where my happiness truly lives. Is it in Heaven, fighting for good over evil, helping where I can, and serving my Father’s will? Or…I look at the woman in front of me, this small creature with eyes dark as onyx and hair to match…is happiness with her?

  “It’s not about my happiness.”

  “Maybe it should be. Don’t you feel it? There’s a pull between us. We were put together for a reason.”

  Taking a shuddering breath, I turn away from her, needing some separation. I brace my palms on the counter and bow my head, closing my eyes and sending up a prayer for strength. My thoughts drift to the moment my brother, Michael, told me I’d be protecting her. He said I’d be tempted, that I’d face a trial unlike anything I’ve experienced. Is this the challenge he mentioned? Now
I wonder if I should’ve taken him up on his offer to share the vision the witch Guinevere had about my fate. Did Gwen foresee my struggle with Ruby?

  Even now, my heart yearns for her. I want nothing more than to feel her skin on mine. Damn the romance novels I read. If I hadn’t learned so much from those stories, would I understand what I’m feeling?

  And then her warm palm slides over my shoulders, across the place my wings belong, and I shudder in pleasure.

  “Don’t hide from me, Gabriel,” she whispers.

  I groan and flinch farther away. “Please don’t touch me.”

  Her hand falls from me, and I feel her presence diminish. Soft footsteps take her out of reach and only then do I turn to face her. I was right. She’s gone, the kitchen door swinging in her wake. It’s unsettling to be separated from her, to have her out of sight. I follow her, my long strides eating up the distance between us as I catch up to her in the hallway.

  “I’m sorry, Ruby. It’s just—”

  “I get it. I won’t touch you if that’s what you really want.” She opens the door to the large room we’re set up inside and grabs a blanket off the couch. In moments, she’s settled in the armchair by the fire, blanket over her legs, gaze trained on the flames in the hearth.

  Is the absence of her touch what I really want? No. I want her hands everywhere on me. But temptation is a road that leads to damnation, and I’m not the only one who’ll be damned if I take what I want.

  I’m being tested, and I can’t fail. Everything depends on this.

  Chapter 3

  Ruby

  Gabriel’s presence is nearly overwhelming as we stay in our respective corners, me casting quick glances his way, needing to take in his absolute…beauty. That’s the only way to describe his face. I heave a sigh, wishing there was at least a book to read while we wait out the storm. I need something to distract me from this desperate need to touch him.

  “Are you all right?” His deep voice covers me like a warm blanket.

  “Bored. I’ve never been good at being still.”

  He chuckles and gestures to the leather jacket hanging over the back of the empty chair at the small chess table. “Left breast pocket.”