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

by Laura Kaye

  He’d given up lying to himself about not being attracted to her. Oh, he was. And the more he learned about her, the more he liked her. Earlier tonight, after he’d dropped the bombshell about the Book of the Dead, she hadn’t believed him. Judging by the way she gaped at them, she thought they were a bunch of psychos. But she didn’t freak. She listened when he explained to her that supernatural forces existed, and then she said she needed time to think about it, before picking up her fork and finishing her meal in silence.

  Brynn was strong. Stronger than he’d imagined any human woman could be. But would she take it in stride when he told her about her ancestry, or when she learned that demon blood flowed through her veins?

  The practical part of his brain wondered why he should bother telling her. After all, it didn’t change anything—either they’d find the book before Mammon did and discover a way to destroy it, in which case Brynn would be free to return to her normal life, or they wouldn’t. And then he’d have to kill her.

  But he refused to take the coward’s way out. He’d tell her as much as he could without damaging her sanity. He owed her that much, at least. He might be many things, but he wasn’t a monster.

  He wasn’t his father.

  Sighing, he pressed his forehead against Brynn’s door. She must be long asleep by now. Sleeping peacefully, he hoped, despite the circumstances. But what if…

  What if he opened the door and walked to her bed, lifted the covers, and crawled in beside her? She might scream. Or welcome him.

  He closed his eyes as he imagined touching his lips to hers, sure they’d taste of strawberries. That little tongue of hers would meet his. Perhaps she’d boldly open her legs to take him in. Rake her nails down his back as he thrust home.

  Keegan groaned at the thought. His cock rose to impossibly hard heights, tenting the fabric of his pajama bottoms as if pointing the way to Brynn’s bed. To his salvation.

  Or to his doom.

  It wasn’t that late at night. If he were smart, he’d get dressed, wander down to the corner bar, and pick up the first willing woman who looked his way. He’d be pumping away inside her within the span of an hour and would alleviate the ache that had only seemed to build ever since he first laid eyes on Brynn. But somehow, that idea was almost as unappealing as bedding a belakor demon.

  No, he was better off using his hand. The devil knew he was already well acquainted with it. With a heavy sigh, he walked back into his room. No point in fighting it—he already knew exactly who he’d think of while he jacked off.

  …

  Brynn was on fire. Warm hands seared her flesh as they dragged her sweater over her breasts and then, in the span of a heartbeat, slid her slacks down and off. Ragged breaths of hot air heated her neck a moment before smooth, full lips pressed a kiss there. A flaming tongue licked a trail up her throat before flicking across her lips. A moment later, a mouth claimed hers, their tongues tangling over and over.

  She couldn’t open her eyes. Or maybe she just couldn’t see.

  “Keegan?” she panted.

  “Yes,” he murmured. With a quick tug, he tore away her bra as if it were made of no more than tissue paper. Then his lips closed over one breast, teeth dragging across the taut bud with a roughness that tore a cry from her lips. He moved to the other, tongue rolling over her nipple.

  Brynn moaned softly. “No, we can’t.”

  “Shh,” was all he said. He shifted, and another tear sounded as her underwear fell away. Before she could suck in a breath, he’d placed his hands on her knees and tugged them apart. His slick tongue seared her core.

  “Oh…yes,” she cried. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he used his lips and tongue to propel her to the edge of ecstasy in the span of less than a minute. Her breath hitched and she bit her lip to stifle any further encouragement. She shouldn’t want this so much…but then she’d never before been caressed by a man who actually knew what she could do. Who accepted her for who she truly was.

  Keegan rose with a husky laugh. “Are you ready for me?”

  Niggling concerns invaded her dreamy haze. She didn’t even know this man, for Heaven’s sake. “But—”

  With one long, hard stroke, he thrust deep inside.

  Her back arched and the soles of her feet dug into the mattress. “Oh my God!”

  The sound of her own heavy cry jarred her awake. She sat up, chest heaving.

  Disoriented, she glanced around. Enough light streamed in from the large windows for her to see that no one else was in the room. She peered down—her clothes were in one piece and on her body where she’d left them. The sheet lay in a tangled mess at her feet.

  “What was that?” she whispered, still panting. She’d just had the most intense, mind-blowing orgasm of her life, and it had all been a dream? A dream?

  She threw herself backward onto the pillows, trying to calm the erratic beating of her heart. The dream had just exploded on her and her heart felt like it was about to burst in her chest. In retrospect, she should have immediately realized it was nothing more than an illusion. She’d barely uttered a word in protest, and she’d known Keegan for less than twenty-four hours. She would never be that slutty in real life.

  Would she?

  “Oh, crap,” she moaned, thumping a fist on the bed. She was in trouble. Here she was, dreaming about a man who might very well be a total nutcase. After all, he actually believed there was a book that contained a spell to create zombies. It was laughable. Totally absurd.

  Or was it?

  Most people would never believe in someone who could drain energy with a simple touch. Or someone who could control others with hypnotic eyes.

  Maybe, just maybe, this Book of the Dead really did exist.

  Argh, this was all so confusing. It would be easier if she could trust that the men were here to protect her, rather than imprison her. But the locked door definitely wasn’t a good sign. Were they being truthful with her, or was there something else going on here? Something far more frightening than a madman searching for a magical book?

  On top of all that, she had nothing other than the clothes on her back, and that was just damned annoying.

  Brynn kicked at the sheets until they dislodged from around her ankles. “That’s it.”

  Tomorrow morning she was going to demand that they either let her go home to get more clothes, or accompany her there. After all, Keegan had insisted she wasn’t a prisoner here. If they weren’t willing to do something as simple as that, it didn’t matter that her powers didn’t seem to work on them. She’d find a way out of there, regardless.

  Chapter Six

  Mammon reclined on the four-poster, king-size bed in his luxury Egyptian hotel suite, a warm woman laying facedown beside him. He crossed his arms under his head as he contemplated the book. It seemed to be the only thing he thought of these days.

  What a discovery that was, to learn the fabled Book of the Dead did, in fact, exist, the culmination of his many years of research. It was utterly exhilarating.

  When he found it, he would bring to life creatures so indestructible they’d tear apart man and demon alike. And every one of them would answer to him. Finally, he would have the wealth and power he deserved.

  First, he would take over Earth. He liked this world, with its abundance of vices. He would linger here as long as he could. Once he’d exhausted these resources, he’d move on to another world. And then another.

  Nothing and no one would have the power to stop him. Not even the damned Council. After decades of having to obey their commands, of being forced to witness the things they’d done under the guise of the greater good, he would finally have them bowing to him. Oh, and bow they would. Right before he broke them. He would be an infinitely better ruler of all dimensions than the Council was.

  As for Keegan, Taeg, Ronin, and Dagan, well, they had their part to play in this, too. And they would. All he needed was the book. That, and the heir.

  But it was simply a matter of time until he dis
covered the heir.

  Loud rapping sounded outside the door leading into his room.

  “Enter.” Mammon didn’t bother covering his unclothed form. He didn’t give a fuck who saw him naked, and the woman lying next to him was too unconscious to protest her own nudity.

  The door opened and Leviathos entered. Not for the first time, Mammon was struck by Leviathos’s resemblance to a boy he’d once known. Belpheg had been the most powerful being Mammon had ever encountered; even as a young adolescent, his ability to manipulate energy had been uncharted, something Mammon had learned when he’d rescued the child from the edge of his village while the Council was in the process of decimating the boy’s entire clan. How he wished he hadn’t lost track of the boy after he’d saved him from annihilation. His abilities would be helpful to Mammon now. But there was no lamenting the past. Besides, once he had his army of the undead, he would need assistance from no one.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting,” Leviathos simpered.

  With Leviathos’s good looks and suave demeanor, it was sometimes difficult to believe his second-in-command was, at heart, a total fool. If Mammon had sensed anything resembling Belpheg in Leviathos when he’d first taken him in, he’d quickly been disillusioned of that notion. But if Leviathos could be counted on for one thing, it was for his resentment of others’ good fortunes. Jealousy was what made him such a good lackey now—and the reason Mammon would have to kill him as soon as he came into power. Leviathos’s grasping ways would never allow him to remain a minion the whole of his life. Fool he might be, but Leviathos posed a danger to him if Mammon allowed him to live.

  “What is it?” he asked Leviathos.

  “I’ve brought the daily report as you requested, Lord,” Leviathos said, using the title Mammon had commanded of all his minions. “Our Egyptian scholar is still tracing the priest’s genealogy.”

  “Still?” A tide of rage surged within him. He rose and stalked toward Leviathos, taking perverse pleasure in the way he winced and inched backward. “The search has taken too long as it is.”

  “W-we are getting closer, m-my Lord,” Leviathos stammered. “The scholar has been working around the clock, but this world is full of billions of humans. It isn’t an easy task.”

  “Then tell him to work harder,” Mammon snarled, poking his finger into Leviathos’s chest. “In fact, I suggest you aid in the search yourself. If we fail to uncover the heir, it will be on your head.”

  Leviathos nodded and turned to leave the room.

  Mammon waited until he was almost to the door before asking, “How goes the search for the book?”

  Leviathos paused, and then turned. A flicker of fear crossed his face. “We have an army of men searching every inch of the Valley. It cannot be much longer now before it is found.”

  He had better hope so. If the Council discovered the book before he did…

  Life on the run held no appeal for him, but he faced a lifetime of it if he failed in this mission. That wasn’t about to happen. He would die first.

  “You know what I would do to you if you ever tried to double-cross me, don’t you?” he asked in a silky voice.

  Leviathos flinched but met him with a steady gaze. “I would never do that, Lord.”

  Liar. But he would never get the opportunity. Leviathos’s days were numbered.

  Turning, Mammon motioned to the woman in his bed. He didn’t know her name. He didn’t care. She was simply an object to slake his lust. Given that she’d been unconscious the better part of his session with her, she was likely a drug addict. That, or Leviathos had slipped her something before bringing her to him.

  “Take her out of here,” he said. “But keep her handy. I may have use for her again.”

  Leviathos walked to the woman and hoisted her into his arms. Her head rolled to the side at an unnatural angle, and he examined her closely. “The woman is dead, my Lord.”

  “Dead?” Well, he couldn’t feel remorse for that. Women were weak. Far weaker than men. They could be counted on for nothing more than momentary physical satisfaction. That was a lesson his own father had taught him at a fairly young age. “What a pity. She was a tolerably good fuck.”

  “Should I dispose of the body?”

  After a moment’s thought, Mammon gave a careless shrug. “Hold on to her. She’ll keep for a few more hours.”

  …

  Much as he’d done just a few hours before, Keegan rested his forehead on the door leading into Brynn’s room. He’d barely slept last night, his mind consumed with thoughts of her. And if she’d had any idea of the sorts of dreams he’d had, she would have blushed clear into next week. He was pretty sure more than a few of the things he’d dreamt about were illegal in some states.

  Clearing his throat, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Brynn was already up, her bed made. She sat on it, running a silver brush through her hair. Damned if she didn’t turn bright red when she saw him.

  “Good morning.” Keegan fidgeted, fighting off the uncomfortable feeling that she knew what he’d dreamt about. That was impossible.

  Brynn averted her gaze, and she set the hairbrush down beside her. “Wish I could say the same.”

  “What’s wrong?” The question came out far more clipped than he’d intended it to.

  “What’s wrong?” She let out a bitter laugh and met his eyes with a haunted look. “I’m a prisoner here, that’s what’s wrong.”

  They were back to this? “I thought we already covered that it’s for your own good—”

  “Yeah, you’ve told me before. You’re not holding me prisoner—you’re protecting me.” A flash of temper sparked in her eyes. “Well, whatever. All I know is you won’t let me leave. How am I supposed to feel safe and secure in a situation like this?”

  “I’m trying to protect you,” he answered gruffly. “Not make you feel safe.”

  “How can you expect me to calmly sit here when you haven’t given me any evidence of what you claim? All I have is your word.”

  She had every right to be angry. He would be, too. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her go. “My word will have to be enough for now, Brynn. I won’t risk letting you loose and having something happen to you.”

  Her lips twisted into a frown. “So, what? I’m just supposed to pretend I’m happy with this whole scenario? I mean, I don’t even have any clothes to change into.”

  Shit. She was right. He hadn’t considered that.

  “Look.” She tugged at her hair, her eyes darkening with exasperation. “I just…I don’t do well behind locked doors. And you can’t blame me for being a little concerned. You expect me to believe what you’re telling me, but you haven’t given me any proof that you’re the good guys.”

  Good guys. Yeah, right.

  “I’m not asking for much,” she said, her pleading making him feel even guiltier. “Just let me go home and get some clothes. If what you’re saying is true, then I’ll come back here with you of my own accord, not as a prisoner.”

  “I can’t let you leave,” he told her. “Even if you promise to come back. It’s too dangerous. What if…what if I go buy you some new clothes?”

  Devil, had he just volunteered to go shopping for her?

  Brynn stepped toward him, a plaintive expression on her face as she touched his arm. He forced himself not to fidget at the spark of awareness. For all he knew, she didn’t feel the same way.

  “Keegan, I appreciate that. But please, let me go home and get some of my own clothes. You can come with me. Think of it as a show of faith. You do this, and I’ll come back with you, okay?”

  He gritted his teeth, knowing what his brothers would say if he agreed to this. To put it mildly, they wouldn’t be pleased. He opened his mouth to refuse but the words wouldn’t come. For all he knew, he would have to kill her soon. She deserved to have some sort of concession from him.

  Screw it. She wasn’t asking for much, and with the four of them there, they could protect her. “Fine. Okay. Just give
me a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

  Brynn sighed, her shoulders relaxing with relief. “Thank you.”

  With a brusque nod, Keegan stepped into the hallway and closed the door. He hesitated for a moment before walking away, leaving the door unlocked.

  He found Ronin and Taeg in the kitchen. Ronin sat at the counter, surfing his laptop, while Taeg scarfed down a huge bowl of cereal at the table with an open beer next to him.

  “You’re a fucking drunk,” Keegan muttered.

  Taeg shrugged, taking no offense. “I think better when I’m not sober.”

  “Hey, man,” Ronin said without looking up, “I’m researching Egyptian tombs.”

  “Yeah,” Taeg added, “we can’t just sit around on our asses waiting for the Council to find the book.”

  Ronin nodded. “It’s a needle in a haystack, but we might as well start searching for where this Egyptian priest was buri—”

  That was all well and good, but somehow trying to find a possible location amidst all of Egypt didn’t seem as imperative as making sure that a woman who was facing the possibility of death enjoyed her last days as much as possible.

  “Get dressed,” Keegan interrupted. “And wake Dagan up, too.”

  That got their attention.

  “Where are we going?” Ronin asked.

  “We’re gonna take Brynn to her home so she can pick up some clothes.”

  Taeg sputtered, choking on his cereal. “Are—are you out of your mind?”

  Chapter Seven

  “I love this deli. They have the best croissants,” Brynn said to Keegan as she inhaled the mouthwatering scent of baked goods. Her fear and doubt had begun to melt away as soon as she hit the sidewalk, especially since he’d let her use his phone to call her assistant, Amanda. She’d made up an excuse for why she’d left in such a rush and wouldn’t be back for a while. Amanda seemed suspicious, but Brynn didn’t want to involve her in any of this. Not if there really was a madman stalking her. In the end, she’d told Amanda she’d be keeping the gallery shut down until further notice. Not the best situation for her pocketbook, but thanks to her parents’ inheritance, she could afford to keep things afloat. For a little while, at least.