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

by Laura Kaye

  She nodded, still stroking his hair. “I will. Just close your eyes and rest.”

  Her gentle touch soothed him and lured his eyes closed. “Stay,” he mumbled.

  “Okay,” she whispered, and tucked her face into the nook of his neck.

  …

  Voices seeped into his awareness. Chrys tried to resist them, but before he knew it, he was dragged into consciousness.

  “…don’t think it’s w-working.” Laney’s voice.

  “Maybe a hot bath?” someone said. Owen?

  “He’ll draw the heat out of bath water in minutes,” another male voice said. It was too much to keep up with. He willed himself back under again. If he could just sleep…

  “Do y-you have an electric b-blanket?” Laney asked.

  “I still say he needs the Acheron,” someone said.

  “I agree with Boreas. The risk is too great. We’re stronger together. If today proved nothing else, it proved that. He wouldn’t be alive if he’d been alone.”

  Boreas was okay? He tried to ask, but couldn’t form the words.

  The conversation continued, and one thing kept Chrys from giving in to the bone-deep desire to fade away, to just escape the pain of the agonizing cold. Laney’s voice. Except something was wrong with it.

  “We have t-to do s-something. I’m not enough.”

  He frowned at that idea and forced his eyes open. Owen’s living room took shape around him. Laney’s soft, warm body still covered his, though she’d shifted to rest her face against the other side of his neck. And she was…shivering.

  At first he wasn’t sure, because he couldn’t stop shaking. His muscles were nearly screaming from the constant tremors. But…she was, too. That was why her voice sounded wrong. Her teeth were chattering.

  No. He’d caused her enough pain. Damnit, he just couldn’t stop, could he?

  He swallowed hard, forcing moisture into his mouth. “Get…get her off me. Get her off,” he said louder.

  For a moment, she went still. But then shudders wracked through her again.

  “Now. She needs to get off me.”

  “Okay,” she said in an odd voice. “Just give me a second. I, um, I don’t have… I’m not dressed.”

  Not dressed? How in the hell? He concentrated on the feel of her body, the feel of her body on his. Sure enough, they were both as naked as the day their gods made them. The thought shot arousal through him, even if he was in absolutely no condition to act on it. His hands skimmed over her back. Jesus, she was freezing. The realization killed the pleasure he’d felt a moment before.

  “Megan, could you m-maybe help me? Do you have a robe or something? Another blanket?”

  “Yes.” Footsteps skirted around them and made their way up the stairs.

  Chrys rolled his head to the side. Despite hearing the other voices, he had been so focused on Laney he hadn’t really paid enough attention.

  It was a freaking packed house. Owen, Livos, and a number of the other lesser Anemoi. Except for a few clearly acting as sentries at the windows, they were all staring at him and Laney.

  His Laney. Who was naked. In the middle of a room-full of males. With only a blanket separating her body from their eyes.

  His arms tightened around her. Aggression and possessiveness tore through him so fierce it brought his cock to life.

  Laney sucked in a breath, her stomach muscles tensing against his length.

  What a goddamned piece of shit he was. Like it wasn’t bad enough he used her this way. Now he had to make it worse by getting off on it. “Everyone get the fuck out of here so she can get up.”

  Except for the sentries, who kept their attention focused solely on the windows, the room cleared. Footsteps sounded on the stairs again.

  “Here you go,” Megan said, pressing a fuzzy pink robe into Laney’s hand. “Do you want help?”

  “No. Thanks,” she said in a small voice. When Megan left the room, she lifted her upper body off of his chest and attempted to slip into the robe while still under the covers. From throat to belly, her skin was red from the prolonged exposure to his cold. Sonofabitch.

  She sat up further as she pushed her second arm into the robe. The change in position pressed the beautifully hot place between her legs into his groin.

  He groaned.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. Her hands fumbled to secure the robe around her. She looked over her shoulders, as if making sure no one would see her. Then she slipped off him.

  Immediately, he missed the feel of her, her heat, her closeness. It was like she’d taken everything good and right in the world with her. But her health and comfort were more important.

  Clutching the robe at her throat, she arranged the covers over him, tucking them in tight around his neck and shoulders. “I’ll leave your knife right here next to you.”

  His knife? The dagger. A vague memory of giving it to her shimmered through his mind’s eye. “You keep it.”

  She frowned, but didn’t look at his face. She didn’t meet his eyes. Maybe it was unintentional? But then she scooted away, far away it seemed, and pushed herself into a sitting position on the bottom step, the blade resting in her lap. Shaking, she pulled the robe closed over her legs. Still not looking at him, or talking. Worry shaped her expression, but there was something else there, too…

  I’m not enough.

  He frowned. No. That wasn’t it, was it? Because it was so the other way around. But the more he thought about it, the more he saw hurt in the set of her shoulders, in the downward cast of her eyes, in the tremble of her lips…

  “Laney—”

  “Don’t say anything.” She shook her head. “Conserve your energy. Just concentrate on getting better. That’s all that matters.” Using the end post of the bannister, she pulled herself up. “I’m gonna go change now.”

  “But, Laney, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I just—”

  “I know. Really. Just rest.” She turned and made her way up the steps.

  For a long moment, Chrys watched her go. With every step she took away from him, something deep inside him cried out, demanded he open his mouth and give voice to the desire careening through him. Not just for her body, or her heat, but for her, the woman. Laney.

  He kept his mouth shut.

  When she was out of sight, he dropped his head back to the floor and closed his eyes. It was better this way. His life was a disaster on every level. And she deserved far, far better.

  …

  Boreas sat at the kitchen table and ate his fifth heaping serving of ice cream. Tabitha’s ice cream. He now understood Owen’s obsession with the stuff. Not only was it delicious, but the ingested cold was restorative.

  Tabitha sat across the table from him, his grandson asleep in her lap, quietly watching. He regretted that she’d gotten caught in the middle of their chaos, even as he enjoyed her company and the smell of fragrant flowers on her skin. “I am sorry you had to see all this,” he said.

  Her mouth opened and closed and she shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure what I’m seeing. A half hour ago, you were literally shredded. And now you’re…not. How is that possible?”

  “The less you know, the better.”

  She looked down as Teddy nestled into her. “Maybe. But I already know enough to know we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

  Boreas frowned. “Kansas?”

  Intelligent brown eyes dragged over his face, as if studying him. A foreign heat rose inside him. “You don’t know the reference?”

  He shook his head. “Should I?”

  “Curiouser and curiouser.”

  “What is?”

  “You don’t get that one either, do you?”

  He swallowed his last bite of strawberry ice cream, studying her in return. “I am failing some test right now, yes?”

  She shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

  His body stirred at the idea. He settled his spoon in the empty bowl, crossed his arms over his chest, and met her inquisi
tive gaze. “I like the sound of that.”

  A lovely pink arose on her cheeks. “Oh.” Her gaze flickered to his lips.

  He gave in to a small smile, but it fell just as quickly as the conversation drifted in from the living room. Everyone else was in there, now debating how to heal Chrysander’s hypothermia.

  His gut clenched. As if he weren’t indebted to his youngest brother enough for saving his life, Chrysander’s condition was his fault. He wanted to help, but because their winds and their natures were extreme opposites, he was the last god that could be of any use in improving his situation.

  He loathed this feeling of uselessness, of helplessness.

  But with every swallow of the ice cream, strength and power had returned to him. Thank the gods Zephyros had the ability to heal the kinds of wounds which had torn apart his body. It made the decision to return to Owen and Megan’s easy—a decision upon which Boreas had insisted in case Eurus decided to attack his son’s family. And it also gave them the ability to stick together, which Aeolus’s presence made possible—he had the ability to quell the storms that would’ve normally erupted when multiple Anemoi gathered in one place. Given Eurus’s madness, his apparent alliance with the Harpies, and Devlin’s treachery, they needed the strength in numbers.

  Devlin. When Boreas had first emerged from Gibraltar, he’d seen him, standing on the edge of the cliff. The boy’s eyes flashed black, the same kind of deadness that inhabited his malevolent brother’s gaze, and watched as the Harpies swooped in and attacked from behind.

  Zephyros’s instincts had apparently been right on the money where Eurus’s eldest son was concerned.

  Had Devlin been playing Aeolus all along?

  Who could say? It hardly mattered now. Even though Father still argued that the situation might not have been what it appeared, it was a risk they couldn’t take.

  Which left them exactly nowhere.

  Owen entered the kitchen, followed by a number of the others. “How are you?” he asked, his mismatched eyes serious.

  “I will be fine. Worry not.”

  He shrugged one big shoulder. “Can’t be helped.”

  Boreas nodded. “Yes.” He looked at the group assembled around the room. Except for Zephyros, who had gone to collect his wife, and their shared subordinate Skiron, god of the Northwest Wind, almost all of the Anemoi were here—a highly unusual occurrence. “What is going on?”

  “Chrys is still”—Owen glanced at Tabitha—“struggling to get warm. Laney’s now freezing, herself.”

  Boreas’s gaze dropped to the table, to the empty bowl… Wait. “Something hot. Is he conscious enough to drink uh, uh…” He struggled to name an appropriate drink.

  “Hot chocolate? Hot tea?” Tabitha offered.

  “Yes, precisely.” He stared an extra moment at the woman he’d admired from afar all these long months. Trapped in the middle of an impossible situation, she’d kept her cool and helped his family. As if he needed more reasons to find her appealing. He gave her a smile.

  Owen nodded. “It’s worth a try.”

  Megan walked into the kitchen. “What is?”

  His son turned to her. “Could you make Chrys something hot to drink? A lot of it?”

  She squeezed his hand. “Of course.”

  “Or—” Tabitha pressed her fingers to her lips. “I don’t want to interfere.”

  “Not at all. What is it?” Boreas asked.

  “If what he needs is a way to get really warm, really fast, I have a hot tub.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Ready to go?” Boreas asked, crouched at his side.

  Chrys looked up at his oldest brother, more filled with relief at his survival than he could articulate. He gave a tight nod.

  To his right, footsteps padded down the stairs. “What’s going on?”

  Laney.

  Chrys turned his head. She stood on the landing in a T-shirt and shorts, the dagger in her hand. Gods, she was so damn beautiful. His chest ached with it, with his desire for her. He wanted to wrap himself around her and never let her go.

  The yearning was totally foreign, but that didn’t make it any less real. His brain was too fogged to know exactly what to make of it, though.

  “Tabitha has a hot tub next door. We’re going to try using that to heat Chrys up,” Boreas said.

  She nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

  “Would you like to come, Laney?” Boreas asked.

  Chrys studied her, nearly holding his breath to see what she’d say.

  “That’s okay. I don’t want to be in the way.”

  Chrys frowned. She’d just risked herself for him. Again. No one had ever so frequently and selflessly been there for him the way she had these past couple weeks. He could never think of her as “in the way.” The idea revolted his soul.

  Her lip quivered and she hugged herself with her free hand.

  “You’re still cold,” he said, the realization releasing his protective instincts. “Come. You need the heat, too.”

  When she didn’t respond, Boreas said, “He is right. Come down and hold out your hand.”

  He looked to his brother. “Give her a minute to adjust. Her sight returns when she’s in the elements. It’s a little jarring.”

  Boreas studied him a moment, his gaze too wise, too knowing for comfort. “Okay.”

  Slowly, Laney descended to the bottom. She extended her left hand, palm down. “What do I do with this?” She raised the knife in her right.

  Chrys pushed out from under the covers. “I’ll take it,” he said, accepting the dagger. “And move your necklace so it doesn’t touch your skin.”

  She pulled it so it lay on top of her shirt.

  “Ready?” Boreas asked. They both nodded. “Sorry I’m the only one here to do this, Chrysander. Father is busy holding off storms, and Zephyros has not yet returned.”

  In his current condition, Boreas’s touch was likely to be uncomfortable, but he shook his head. He’d take an eternity of discomfort to know his brother was safe. “I’m glad you’re here, you dig?”

  Boreas took their hands. His northern touch was a white-hot bite on Chrys’s still-icy skin. He gritted his teeth as they shifted into the elements. But the distance they traveled was short and the torment was over in an instant.

  He crouched naked next to the in-ground tub, the water bubbling and throwing off the most fantastic steam. Except for a soft ring of lights underneath the water, darkness surrounded him. How long had he been out of it?

  He looked to his right and left. Alone. “B, what are you doing?” Why hadn’t they—

  His brother and Laney appeared beside him.

  Laney’s expression was emotional, awed. “Thank you,” she whispered to Boreas.

  For what?

  Boreas nodded and turned to Chrys. “You need help in?”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, ignoring the muscle fatigue and aching shivers he couldn’t control. “Get out of here before you melt.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “We have this property surrounded now, too. Take as long as you want. Summon me if you need anything.” He disappeared.

  Laney slipped her amulet back under her shirt.

  “What did you thank him for?”

  Her gaze lifted to his, a blush painting her cheeks. She licked her lips. “He held on to me…so I could look at you, so I could see you.”

  The emotion in her voice wrapped around his heart. He thought of the night of the meeting, when he’d pulled her into the elements so she could put faces to all the voices she was hearing. She’d seen them all, except him, beyond what her limited vision allowed. “No doubt I look like shit,” he said, struggling against the seriousness of the moment.

  She shook her head. “You’re gorgeous. Although, I already knew that.”

  He frowned, unsure how to respond to the yearning in her startlingly blue eyes, slipped into the tub, and groaned.

  Hail to Zeus and all the Olympians. It was pure, glorious heaven.
The heat was life-giving, restoring, and soothed his cold-ravaged body so thoroughly all he could do was feel. He let himself sink under completely, the rolling hot water providing the all-encompassing warmth the blankets had not.

  Laney’s voice sounded as if from a distance. She splashed into the water. Her hand hit his arm and then she grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him up. “Chrys!”

  He broke the surface and sucked in a gulp of air. Whirling, he searched out the source of her alarm. “What?”

  “I thought—” She pressed her fist to her mouth.

  What? He replayed the last few moments. He got in, went under— Oh. “You thought…I was drowning?” His gaze dragged over her T-shirt. Her nipples pushed enticingly against the wet material. She’d waded in with all her clothes on. Trying to protect him.

  Laney nodded, her expression full of concern…and something else. Something he didn’t want to examine too closely. Because damn if it didn’t make him want a whole lot of things he really shouldn’t want, not if he was to do right by her.

  “I’m fine.” Taking her hand, he guided her to one of the benches along the side. “Sit. The water will warm you.” He almost urged her to take her wet clothes off, but thought better of it. Already, the hot water was filling him with strength, restoring his power, sending delicious heat flowing through his veins. The steam carried her warm citrus scent. He breathed it in, wanting more of it, more of her. His cock came to life. Before he did something stupid and selfish, he turned, crossed to the opposite side, and sank onto his own bench.

  A wet slap made him look up.

  Oh, damn.

  Laney had taken off her shorts and tossed them on the wooden planking. As he watched, she pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her bare breasts underneath. Water beaded and ran down her skin as she reached to deposit the clothing behind her. The underwater lights cast an intriguing pattern of highlights and shadows over her body, one that made him want to explore all the dark parts with his fingers, and tongue.