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

by Laura Kaye

  Neither of which he would want.

  Which didn’t really matter if he didn’t want her, now did it?

  Laney groaned. Her head was one big circle of confusion. And, in a couple of hours, Seth was going to be here to add to the mix. Her only saving grace was he was going to have to wade through D.C.’s horrid rush hour traffic, which would hopefully give her a few more hours to figure out how to explain the impossible without him hauling her off to the nearest psych ward.

  She let herself enjoy the warm breeze for a few more moments, then pushed herself up. She didn’t want Megan to get up from her nap and worry about where she’d gone.

  Counting out her paces again, she headed back the way she came.

  Damnit. She swung her arms in a careful circuit, but couldn’t find the railing. She must’ve veered off her original path, but the glare of the sun after sitting in the shade made it impossible to see.

  Shielding her hand over her eyes, she waited for them to adjust, that uncomfortable feeling of being out of place settling back into her shoulders.

  “Are you okay there? Can I help you?” a woman’s voice called from off to the left. “I’m Tabitha, Megan’s neighbor.”

  Laney cringed internally. No doubt she looked ridiculous standing in the yard utterly lost, yet probably mere feet from the door. She forced a smile. “I’ve, uh, gotten myself a bit turned around.” She gestured to her face. “I’m almost blind and still learning where everything is here.”

  “Well, don’t you worry about a thing.” Her voice neared. “Any friend of the Winters is a friend of mine. How can I best help get you back inside?”

  Sincerity rang through her words, putting Laney more at ease. “If you’ll let me take your elbow, I can follow you in.”

  “One elbow, coming right up.” Tabitha stepped to her side and Laney took her arm.

  “I smell roses.”

  The other woman chuckled as she slowly led her across the lawn. “I was pruning. Warm as it’s been, some of my repeat bloomers might just have one more flowering in them.”

  “Yeah? What color are they?”

  Tabitha hesitated, as if the question caught her off guard. “Two are the palest, softest pink. One is white with just a hint of goldenrod along the petals’ edges. I’ve got several shades of red—one almost maroon, it’s so dark, another that’s bordering on fuchsia, and two that are the classic rose red. And then there are my absolute favorite—they have bright, canary buds that can’t help but make you smile.”

  The woman’s words had the same effect. “You described them beautifully, like an artist, or a writer.”

  “That is sweet of you to say. I paint, so I’ve always appreciated color.” They paused. “Here are the steps.”

  “Perfect. Thank you. I can find my way from here.” She gripped the iron. “I’m Laney, by the way.”

  “Very nice to meet you.” Tabitha stepped away. “Do you like ice cream?”

  Laney chuckled. “Do you ever find someone who answers that question in the negative?”

  She laughed, a pleasant, open sound. “Not living next to Owen, I don’t. I think that man would live on ice cream if he could. I’ve made up a few more flavors and was going to bring some over for them to try, but tell me which you prefer and I’ll make sure I bring some of that special. I have orange chocolate chip, mint, strawberry, and coffee.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Uh, which?”

  Laney grinned. “Any or all.”

  “My kinda gal. All right. Tell Megan I’ll be over.”

  Laney nodded, still smiling at the force of nature that was their neighbor. The brief conversation made her realize she missed having girlfriends, people she could chat to about everything or just nothing at all. She had Seth, of course, but it wasn’t the same. He’d talk about the horses or the farm or her medical care until the cows came home. He was the only person in the world who could share stories about her grandfather, and who understood just how important those memories were to her. But the books she was reading, her feelings and fears, men? Not so much. “Thanks again, Tabitha.”

  “You bet,” she said, her voice moving away. “See you later.”

  She felt around for the doorknob and found it. Amazing how a bit of kindness from a stranger could lift your spirits.

  The thought made her pause. Megan and Owen had offered that, too, hadn’t they? They’d been nothing but kind and helpful and understanding since she’d arrived. And not only that—Megan was so easy to talk to. She really listened, and she was funny, and she was the only person on earth she could talk to about the whole supernatural god thing.

  Get it together, Laney. Time to stop moping and start appreciating. She hated the weakness of feeling sorry for herself. Done. Enough. Over.

  For now, it was time to accept the situation and make the best of it. When Seth arrived, she’d figure out what to say. And when Chrys returned—she refused to believe it could be an “if”—she’d get the clarity she needed on where they stood, and go home to nurse her broken heart if that’s the way the cookie crumbled.

  Until then, she’d enjoy the new friends she was making. And the homemade ice cream wouldn’t hurt, either.

  …

  For a long moment, their father’s revelation hung in the darkness. Then all hell broke loose.

  Zeph faced off with Aeolus. “Devlin? What the hell are you thinking?”

  “You’ve let him know what’s going on, but not us?” Boreas asked.

  The collective tension gave the air a sizzling, electrical quality. Chrys tugged his hair out of his face. “How do you even know you can trust him?” This whole situation was getting more complicated by the minute.

  “Enough!” Aeolus glared at Zeph, who finally eased off a step. “He is strong. He is on the inside. And we need his help.”

  Zeph planted his hands on his hips. “But he’s too close to his father. He’s not trustworthy.”

  “There’s no love lost between them, I can assure you.”

  “Not liking his father isn’t the same as not being loyal to him, for whatever reason. And it’s not the same as being free of his influence.”

  Chrys nodded at Zeph. “And Aphel says while Eurus keeps Alastor imprisoned, Devlin is free because he’s doing his father’s bidding.” A thought slammed into his brain. “Son of a bitch. Devlin’s part of the reason the weather’s been so chaotic all summer. A storm or a destructive wind would arise, and I’d go thinking I’d find Eurus, only to come up empty-handed. It was clear divine energy was present, but I didn’t recognize it.” He held his hands out. “Until now. That same energy signature is all over this room, which means it was Devlin all along. Jesus, he’s been actively working with Eurus all this time.”

  “Why did you think contacting Alastor would ruin whatever plans you’re making?” Boreas asked, a deep frown on his face.

  “Because Eurus must believe you distrust his sons, especially Devlin. When you encounter one another in battle, Eurus must believe it.”

  Zeph scoffed. “No problem there, since we don’t trust him.”

  Boreas held out a hand. “What is it you’re training Devlin to do?”

  Aeolus held Chrys’s gaze as he spoke. “As long as Eurus possesses the ring, the three of you are disadvantaged. Even without the ring, I am at least his equal, if not stronger, but there’s only one of me.” Chrys gestured for him to continue. “I’m training Devlin in my powers. I’m training him to become my equal.”

  Outside, thunder cracked, strong enough to rumble the rock around them. A whirlwind whipped through the cavern. Two stalactites crashed to the floor in a spray of limestone.

  “You’re. Doing. What?” Zeph asked, voice seething.

  “Did you even hear what I just said?” Chrys asked, white-hot adrenaline sending tremors through his body. Or maybe that was just the cold.

  “How is such a thing even possible? He is not your equal,” Boreas said. “He is the son of the weakest Anemoi.”

/>   “But he will be his equal. He almost is.” Tisiphone stepped in front of Aeolus, placing her body between them.

  “How?” Chrys and Zeph asked at the same time. When Aeolus hesitated, Chrys pushed. “The less you tell us, the more vulnerable you make us. What are we talking about here?”

  “I’ve amplified his native powers by having him drink of the Styx, and we’ve cultivated powers resembling mine by having him drink of the Phlegethon.”

  Chrys dug his fingers into his temples, his brain balking at the magnitude of recklessness Aeolus was describing. Two of the five infernal waterways, the Styx was the river of hatred and the Phlegethon the river of fire. As she resided in the Underworld, Tisiphone’s contribution to the plan was at least clear now. But by the gods, it was the equivalent of putting Devlin on rage steroids and handing him a flamethrower. “Almighty Zeus, Father. That’s not a Hail Mary, that’s the fucking nuclear option.”

  Aeolus’s green eyes blazed. “He will master it. He nearly has. And as he’s been finding ways to sneak off here for two months and keep our secret all this time, I believe he has more than proven his trustworthiness. And he has the greatest access to Eurus, including in the Eastern divine realm, where Eurus considers himself safe from all of us.”

  Zeph glared. “But how do you know he hasn’t already told Eurus what you’re doing here? How do you know Eurus isn’t permitting it? He could be playing both sides, and you’d never know.”

  “Eurus would never allow his son to become more powerful. And Devlin holds a grudge against his father that is a mile deep and twice as wide. He wouldn’t jeopardize the chance to take him down once and for all.”

  “Be that as it may,” Boreas said. “That doesn’t mean he’s loyal to you, either.”

  “Indeed,” Aeolus said. “But instinct tells me he is. Trust me.”

  Zeph scoffed and jabbed a finger toward their father’s hand. “That would be easier if the recent history of deception didn’t exist.”

  “Perhaps. But what is your alternative? This thing is done.”

  His words hung in the air between them, their truth incontrovertible.

  “So it is,” Boreas said. “Now what?”

  “I continue to train Devlin for at least a few more days. A week at most. Then we set a trap and lure Eurus out. Between me, Devlin, and now you with the infernal dagger, we have the means to take him down.”

  Zeph shook his head. “Am I the only one who sees this has catastrophe written all over it?”

  Chrys nodded, the cold making it harder to breathe. “Maybe. Probably. But Father’s right. What’s done is done. We’ll get one shot at this, so we just need to do it and do it right.”

  “Agreed,” Boreas said. “But here’s my question. How are you going to lure him? What’s the bait?”

  Aeolus met each of their gazes, then glanced at Tisiphone. Heaving a long breath, he looked back at his sons. “Me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Chrysander saw a resignation in his father’s eyes he didn’t like, but all they had were a bunch of shit options.

  “Now, you should depart,” Aeolus said. “The rock and iron shield our energy, but don’t block it completely. If a storm hasn’t already kicked up, it soon will.”

  Tisiphone stepped to his side. “Same time?”

  “Yes.” He seemed to hesitate, but then he turned to her, took her in his arms, and kissed her.

  Well, hello. His brothers’ expressions bore the same surprise he felt. Since his mother left long, long ago, his father had never done more than scratch the occasional itch. No more wives. Nothing you could call a relationship. Like father, like son. But the lingering kiss spoke of something deeper, something more meaningful.

  They pulled apart. “Be careful,” he said.

  She nodded, then looked their way and winked. “Close your mouths before you catch a fly.”

  Aeolus smiled. Chrys arched an eyebrow at the unusual display.

  Tisiphone took to the back of the cave and disappeared. Since the caves possessed deposits of infernal iron, there clearly was a connecting tunnel that allowed her passage to the Underworld. Aeolus’s use of this place might’ve been twisted, but it was equally brilliant.

  “Where will you go?” Boreas asked.

  “Nowhere. I’m staying here.”

  Chrys nodded. “When should we next meet?”

  “Week from today. If Devlin appears ready sooner, I’ll send for you.”

  They all agreed, then awkwardness settled into the spaces between them.

  “Okay, well,” Zeph said.

  “A week, then,” Boreas said. “I’ll, uh, leave first. I’m going back to Owen’s.” He met Chrys’s gaze.

  Chrys’s gut clenched. A shudder tore through him. Laney. Guess it was time to face the music. “I’ll meet you back there.”

  Boreas nodded, then shifted into the elements. His energy shot from the room.

  “I’m going home. Stay in touch,” Zeph said to Chrys. He gave Aeolus a tight nod, and followed after Boreas.

  Chrys looked, really looked, at his father. Exhaustion carved lines into the other man’s face. “Need anything?”

  Aeolus shook his head.

  “Well, I’m outta here, too.”

  “Wait.” Aeolus stepped closer, and Chrys braced. His father’s hand settled onto his shoulder, and he forced his body to tolerate the contact. “I wronged you, earlier. This isn’t your fault. Not any of it.”

  Surprise stole his response. He could probably count on one hand the number of times his father had admitted he was wrong.

  “Not any of it, Chrysander. Do you hear me?”

  He swallowed, hard, appreciating the words even if he couldn’t fully believe them. But still, he said, “Yes.”

  “Good.” Aeolus dropped his hand. “Go, before the cold harms you further.”

  “See you in a week.” Chrys disappeared into the elements.

  He backtracked through the crevices and crags and caverns, anticipating the comforting Mediterranean warmth surrounding him. Already the air was warmer…so why was an icy feeling of dread crawling down his spine? He extended his consciousness, specifically opening himself to read other energy signatures. Below, his father remained as he’d left him. Ahead… Alarm. Aggression. Desperation. But it was like watching a screen filled with static. The damn rock obscured the full picture of what he was flying into.

  Whatever it was, though, wasn’t good.

  Chrys poured on the full force of his godhood, working his way through ever-larger spaces, until he shot out the sea-level cave door through which they’d entered Gibraltar.

  Screech, screech, screeeeeeech!

  What in the hell?

  The rough sea tossed and crashed. Gusting winds blew spray into the air. And three enormous birds circled and dove in the tumultuous, night sky above him.

  Chrys shot up. The birds swooped and dive-bombed. Lightning split the sky. He slammed on the brakes and reared back.

  Not birds. Oh, shit a fucking brick. Harpies. The heads of women with long, colorful hair atop the bodies of birds with thick-barreled chests, broad wingspans, and sharp talons.

  They were shrieking and circling and clawing at one space of air.

  Boreas.

  His brother flashed in and out of the elements as the preternatural assault continued, his shirt shredded, along with the skin underneath. Damnit all to hell. What kind of dumb bad luck was it to run into them now? Vicious and cruel, Harpies were known for abducting and torturing. If they got their claws into Boreas, it was going to be game over.

  Zephyros’s energy torpedoed into one of the beasts, knocking it across the dark sky. The assault distracted the other two just long enough for Boreas to shoot up and away.

  The beasts quickly regrouped and searched out their target. Chrys swung wide around their flight pattern to reach Boreas. Where had the one Zeph hit gone? Chrys scanned in a three-sixty.

  There. On the peak of Gibraltar. The lame Harpy scrambled
to gain purchase. Further down the ridge stood another figure, a hooded cloak whipping around him in the wind.

  Not so fast, big brother, you’ll spoil my fun.

  Eurus! Chrysander spun, feeling his brother’s energy but unable to pinpoint it with so many divine beings in the storm-beaten sky at once. All he knew is that Eurus’s voice came from above him, not from the direction of the unknown observer.

  Boreas loosed a blood-curdling scream.

  Chrys shot upward and ran into a current of superheated air. Bastard was using the South Wind—his wind—against Boreas. They couldn’t get that fucking ring back fast enough. Holding steady in the steaming flow, Chrys concentrated on attracting every bit of the air into himself. Splintering thunder cracked overhead.

  Behind him, Boreas groaned.

  B? B? You okay, man? No answer. Zephyros, get Father! Go!

  Zeph’s energy whipped past him, scattering the Harpies as they made for Boreas again. Slashing rain erupted from the swirling clouds.

  The South Wind stopped blowing, freeing Chrys to look for Boreas. They had to get him out of here.

  In a cacophony of flapping wings and screeching birdcalls, one of the Harpies dive-bombed Chrys. They could perceive him in all his forms, and he just barely avoided a haircut of the ripped-out-of-your-skull variety. He whipped around and… No! Pounding thunder made the very air vibrate.

  One of the Harpies had its claws deep in Boreas’s bloody bicep. The other swooped in on great spread wings to grab his free arm.

  Over my dead body.

  Chrys shot out over the sea, rippling into corporeal form, infernal dagger in hand.

  That can be arranged, Eurus sneered.

  Out of nowhere, icy air lashed at his body, created a frigid turbulence that fought his forward motion. Chrys pushed through it, drawing on the overload of South Wind heat he’d imbibed moments before. It countered the attacking North Wind, allowed Chrys to come up fast behind the Harpy that already had Boreas in its clutches.