Tall, Dark, and Deadly: Seven Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance

by Laura Kaye

  “He may be the strongest right now, but clearly he hasn’t been able to bring Eurus to heel.”

  “No.” Boreas was equally troubled by Chrys’s seeming inability to defeat their malevolent brother.

  “Something’s not right, Boreas.”

  “I agree,” Owen said, coming down the steps into the living room.

  “Teddy asleep?” Boreas asked. He adored his one-year-old grandson, the other reason he spent so much time here.

  Owen nodded, dragging a hand through his black hair. “They both are. I’ll be glad when the baby comes. This pregnancy hasn’t been nearly as easy,” he said. “Hey, Zeph.” The gods shook hands.

  “Megan is strong. She will be fine.” Boreas hated to see his son’s worry, but he couldn’t have been prouder of the man, the father he’d become. Since he’d earned a reprieve from his duties as a snow god nearly two years before, Owen had proven himself made for fatherhood.

  “How much longer will the Olympians wait?” Owen asked. After the near-tragedy with Ella in March, Mars had delivered the message that the Olympic gods wanted Eurus dead. Thankfully, they were willing to let the family handle it. So Aeolus, the storm god father of the Anemoi, had been forced to agree to the death sentence, but it was Chrysander who took up the task.

  Zephyros shook his head. “For now, they’re allowing it to remain family business. But Mars has been full of meaningful looks that make it clear their patience won’t last forever. Honestly, I’m surprised they’ve let it go on this long.” He crossed his arms and looked between the other gods. “Now, summer ends in three weeks. Olympians aside, this needs to be over before fall starts and Eurus comes into his season.”

  Boreas glanced out the window again. Tabitha was looking toward the house. The sun’s glare probably kept her from really seeing him, but he still stepped back, his heart suddenly in flight from the brief eye contact. Apparently being an ancient god didn’t save you from developing a crush on someone your heart and guilt would never let you have. “Let’s find Chrys and figure out what is going on.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Zephyros said.

  “Sometimes, this demigod thing sucks.” Owen’s lips pressed into a line. As a demigod, Owen’s powers were neither as strong nor as lasting as that of the Anemoi. Elemental travel as far as the Realm of the Gods would drain him.

  Boreas shook his head. “You have a family to take care of now. Let us handle this.”

  His son gave a tight nod. “Talk some sense into Chrys, will ya?”

  Zephyros scoffed. “Like talking to a damn brick wall.”

  Owen chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t know any other Anemoi like that.”

  “I never really liked you,” Zeph said with a mock glare.

  “Except when I saved and protected Ella, you mean.”

  The corner of his brother’s mouth quirked up. “Yeah, except then.” Smiling, he clapped Owen on the shoulder. “I’ll stay for a longer visit next time. Tell your prettier half that Ella and I say hello.”

  They clasped hands and knocked shoulders. “I will. And I’m serious about Chrys. I’ve never seen such volatile summer weather, and it’s not like him to be so out of control. Something’s not right.”

  The three of them traded glances, the truth of Owen’s observation pressing down on them equally. They said their good-byes and Boreas and Zephyros dematerialized. His brother’s agitation was apparent even in their elemental form, sending out tiny crackles of electricity and abrupt gusts of wind.

  He’s here, Zephyros said as soon as they crossed through the invisible shield of divine energy into the Realm of the Gods. You up for this?

  Chrysander’s residence in the south of the divine realm strained Boreas’s tolerance for heat, but he could handle it for short periods at a time. Yes, it must be done.

  The further they traveled, the more intense the sun became. Golden light bathed everything as Aithiopia came into view. They zeroed in on Chrysander’s sprawling compound. His unique energy signature revealed he was here, but it felt…off somehow. A mere shadow of itself. Zephyros’s agitation flared.

  They materialized in the lush entranceway to the compound, thick green vegetation and brilliant tropical flowers surrounding the area. The temperature pressed in on Boreas, the hot air more difficult for his lungs to draw in and out.

  “Chrysander?” Zephyros called as they made their way inside. “Chrys?”

  “This way.” Boreas led them down the main hallway toward the center of the compound.

  “Why don’t you change? Aren’t they making it worse?”

  Boreas frowned.

  Zephyros gestured with a hand toward the fur robes Boreas had worn for millennia. He never even gave them a second thought anymore. “I am fine.” And, anyway, they’d always reminded him of his long-dead wife, Ori, so a part of him had continued wearing the ancient garb in remembrance of her. Now, it was as much habit as anything.

  A blast of heat greeted them as they entered a long mirrored antechamber outside the ceremonial center of Chrysander’s compound. Boreas barely restrained a groan and Zephyros gave him another pointed look. But Boreas’s attention was on the two gods in traditional tunics standing watch outside the golden doors of the Hall of the South Wind.

  Livos and Apheliotes, the Ordinal Anemoi of the Southwest and Southeast winds, dropped to a knee and bowed their heads.

  “Rise,” Zephyros said. He nailed Livos, who also worked for him, with an expectant glare as the lesser gods resumed their position in front of the doors. “Let us pass.”

  The gods exchanged glances. Livos shook his head. “It is not my wish to disobey, my lord, but he cannot be disturbed.”

  “We must speak with him,” Boreas said. “It is urgent.”

  “Perhaps on the morrow—”

  “Damnit, Livos, I will not debate this. Step aside.” Zephyros got right in his subordinate’s face.

  Boreas frowned. Livos would not put up such resistance unless… Apheliotes dropped his gaze and Boreas gave him a long look. Realization slammed into him, making it even harder to breathe. He braced his palm against Zephyros’s chest to get him to back down. “How bad is it?”

  Livos cut his gaze to Boreas. For a moment, the answer was clear in the younger god’s eyes. Good gods.

  A storm settled over Zephyros’s countenance and added a thick humidity to the dry heat of the chamber.

  Seeing his superior’s temper about to run out, Livos spilled. “It’s bad. He only just managed to fall asleep. That is the reason I resist your demand. He must rest.”

  “He’s so bad off he needs to sleep here?” Zephyros asked, pointing to the ceremonial hall. It possessed the highest heat of anywhere in Aithiopia. Livos finally nodded. “Then why the hell didn’t you take him to the Acheron?”

  “He refused, my lord.”

  “Damn it all to Hades.” Zephyros backed off a step and scrubbed a hand over his face. “What exactly happened?”

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t said.”

  “What are his injuries?” Boreas asked. “Zephyros could be of service.” His was the strongest healing power of them all.

  Livos shook his head. “I don’t think so. And anyway”—the god looked between the Supreme Anemoi—“Chrysander expressly said not to involve him.”

  Zephyros charged forward. “Damn bull-headed—”

  Livos blocked him, and Apheliotes finally engaged, stepping into the scuffle to bar the doors. “My lord, please. It is worse than you think.”

  Boreas grasped his brother’s shoulder. “What do you mean, Apheliotes?”

  The god hesitated, then his shoulders slumped. “It will be easier if I show you.”

  …

  “This is so ridiculous,” Laney grumbled.

  “Not if it will help you heal,” Seth said as he lifted her down from his truck seat. “I’m going to carry you in.”

  “I can manage.” Fifteen stitches later, five in her hand and ten on her calf, Laney was told
to stay off her feet.

  “I’m here, Laney, and I’m helping whether you like it or not.”

  “Fine, but I’m going to go so crazy sitting on my butt.” And with her hand out of commission for a while, she was going to have to hunt and peck her way through the rest of the story she’d been working on. Little chance she’d meet her deadline now.

  He crossed the yard and stepped onto the porch. “Yep, I know it.”

  A heavy weight pressed on her shoulders. The pain, all the questions she had about what had happened last night and this morning, the loss of independence this injury created—Laney was overwhelmed and way too tired to work through it all.

  Inside, her chocolate lab was right there waiting for her. Small “I missed you” whimpers greeted her and his nails clicked against the floor.

  The animal’s presence immediately cheered her. “Hi, Finnster. Sorry I was gone so long.” The screen door closed behind them. “What time is it, anyway?”

  “Almost four. Okay, here’s the couch,” Seth said, easing her down.

  Laney gasped when she forgot about the injury on her hand and accidentally put pressure on it. Carefully, she repositioned herself until she was sitting long-ways, her legs stretched out over the cushions. “Can you grab some pillows from my bed?”

  “Yep. Be right back.” Seth retreated from the rooms that formed the connecting living space of her L-shaped home. Moments later, her bedroom door squeaked open. Her hearing was so well developed she could track his movements through the house.

  Finn sniffed the bandages on her right hand and whined. He set his big lug of a head on her leg. “You’re a good old man, aren’t you?” She scratched his ears with her uninjured hand. “I bet you’re a hungry man, too.” His ears perked up at her words. She smiled.

  “Will you feed Finn for me?” she asked Seth as he entered the kitchen.

  “Yeah. I brought two pillows. Where do you want them?”

  “One under my knee, please?” The roof’s metal had sliced into the back of her calf, so she couldn’t comfortably lay her leg flat. Luckily, the cut hadn’t been too deep. Still, for the next week she had to stay off her feet and dress and redress the bandages. And it could be a month before she could ride Sappho again. The thought made her eyes sting. “The other behind my back,” she managed.

  He tucked it in behind her, then crouched down beside the sofa. “How about some food? You need to eat with the pain meds.”

  Laney gave her oldest friend a smile. He was her rock, her guardian angel, and her pit bull attack dog all in one. And despite her grumpiness over feeling so helpless, he deserved her gratitude. “Thank you, that would be great. Can you make grilled cheese sandwiches?”

  He scoffed, but gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “An eight-year-old can make grilled cheese sandwiches.”

  His mock-offended tone brightened her smile. “Well, you should be able to handle it, then.”

  “I’m only letting you get away with that because you’re hurt.” He rose and stepped away.

  “Right.” She sighed. “I really do thank you. For everything.” As much as she strived for independence, she couldn’t deny she depended on Seth. Every once in a while, it was a relief to lean on him. Not that she would ever say so. He’d be like a dog with a new bone with an admission like that.

  “Don’t mention it. Come on, Finn. You wanna go outside?”

  The dog followed Seth to the screen door. As it clicked shut, Seth started pulling what he needed out of the fridge in the kitchen that adjoined the open living room.

  Minutes later, Seth settled a plate and a bottle of water in her lap. The grilled bread smelled buttery and toasty. Laney’s stomach grumbled. Between the weirdness in the barn and the hospital trip, she’d missed breakfast this morning.

  “Sounds like one might not be enough,” Seth said.

  “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Did you make one for you, too?” Leaning over her plate, she took a big bite and moaned at the warm and gooey cheese. She could already tell having only one hand was going to be a pain.

  “Yeah,” he said from the chair near the foot of the couch.

  “You completely rock at grilled cheese.”

  He laughed. “I completely rock, period.”

  Shaking her head and grinning, she devoured the rest of her sandwich. After a lifetime of shared meals, the silence was comfortable, familiar. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

  “Yeah.” The air in the room shifted, felt awkward and tense. “Laney…”

  She looked toward him and concentrated her narrow vision on him. The details of his face weren’t as clear at this distance. He rubbed his forehead. “What’s the matter?”

  His head bowed and his shoulders slumped. “I’m just so damn sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

  “You were here for me. Still are. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be sitting out in the barn.” She forced a playfulness into her words to reassure him and lighten the suddenly serious conversation.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe you shouldn’t—”

  “Wait.” She knew where this conversation was going, and she couldn’t handle it right now. Not when she was flat on her back for the next few days. “I know what you’re going to say, and you’re wrong. I know I wasn’t smart in checking out the barn last night, but I’m perfectly competent at taking care of myself on a day-to-day basis. And you know it.”

  Tension filled the air for a long moment, and then he sighed. “I know. I just…I really hate that you’re hurt.”

  “Me, too, and I appreciate that. But of all people, I need your support in this.” With her grandfather gone, Seth was the person who knew her best in the world. His opinion mattered to her. A lot. “Besides, you’re here.”

  “I am. And I promised your pop I’d watch out for you.” He sighed, and Laney swallowed around the lump that formed in her throat. Seth had been close with her grandfather, too. “Okay, I’ll drop it,” he said, though his tone wasn’t entirely convinced. He collected her plate. “Want that second sandwich?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “All right. I’m going to go check out the barn and see what kind of damage we’re talking about. Then I’ll look into getting a contractor out to look at it.”

  “Thanks. I can help make some of those calls tomorrow.”

  “Here,” he said from next to her. “Hold out your hand.” He dropped a pill into her palm. “Just concentrate on getting better. Okay?”

  Laney took the painkiller without throwing a fuss about it. Her cooperation would ease his concern. She hoped.

  “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  She nodded and laid her head back against the pillow. Between sleeping on the floor last night and the stress of her injuries, exhaustion weighed on her like a lead blanket. When she closed her eyes, though, all she could see were two competing images—of a winged horse and a golden-haired man. With really nice shoulders. Limited as her version was, she’d apparently made note of every sculpted detail of that part of his anatomy.

  Seth came back through the door. Laney startled out of whatever hazy dream-state she’d been in. She had no idea how much time might’ve passed, or if she’d really been asleep at all. Must be some good drugs.

  “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  “No,” she said, her voice groggy. “What’s up?”

  “Well, it’s not pretty, but the barn’s still structurally sound. Shouldn’t be too big of a job.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Shame about the oak tree, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Looks like lightning split it in half. That’s what came down on the roof.”

  Laney frowned and fought the sensation of the room spinning. “The oak tree?”

  “Didn’t you see the huge branches sticking in through the roof?”

  Branches…? Her scalp prickled. “Uh, no, no, but, uh…” She struggled to swallow and fought back the words What bra
nches? There weren’t any branches! Just like there wasn’t a winged horse. Or a golden-haired man.

  What the hell was happening to her?

  Chapter Six

  Aw damn, so warm.

  Chrysander burrowed into the soft body in front of him, arm coming tight around her waist, face pressing into miles of silky hair. His lips found her neck and then he was kissing her, tasting her, drawing her warmth inside himself.

  More.

  She turned over, bringing her lips in line with his. Her soft skin skated over his, and that small touch electrified him. Chrys slanted his mouth over hers, sucking and teasing her full lips. She moaned low in her throat and he pressed in, his tongue demanding entrance, his chest grazing hers. Her lips parted, and he plunged forward, exploring and invading every part of her sweet mouth. Her heat poured into him, making him ravenous for her.

  Her hands came up to surround him.

  He pulled back. Control. He needed control. “No. Above your head.”

  Dark blue eyes on fire, she obeyed. He grasped her wrists with his hand, then brought himself atop her.

  Gods. He covered her from lips to ankles, and she was soft everywhere he was hard. And so warm.

  His hips settled into the cradle of her thighs and there, there she was on fire.

  He willed the clothing off her body, and the wet heat of her center might’ve scorched him if he didn’t find the sensation so life-giving.

  Shouting. From a distance.

  Chrysander frowned. He mentally shrugged, hanging on to her heat, her body. In her. Gods, he had to get in her.

  The shouting returned. Louder now. Urgent.

  He looked away from the woman writhing beneath him. Where the hell was he?

  He lifted himself off her. Agony tore through his shoulder…

  Chrys groaned as his eyes blinked open. Fucking hell, just a dream. How he thought otherwise, he didn’t know. He never lay with a woman in that position.

  He pushed upright. How long had he been asleep? And who in the name of Zeus was making all that racket?

  One thing was for sure, his shoulder didn’t feel any better than it had when he laid down, which argued that he hadn’t been asleep nearly long enough. He looked down at his chest and abdomen, still a minefield of fresh purple and older, sickly yellow bruises. Examining his left arm, he found the same grizzly slash.