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

by Laura Kaye

  “Hi, I’m Graham.” He held out his hand. Jamie took it with obvious reluctance.

  “Jamie,” he muttered.

  Graham appeared amused, but he dropped the hand and turned to Tara. “Remember, call me if you need to talk.”

  She nodded.

  “What are you going to need to talk to that guy about?” Jamie asked as Graham went back inside the building and the doors shut behind him. He stayed on the other side of the doors and watched them.

  “Sorry?” she said to Jamie.

  “I asked, what are you going to talk to him about that you can’t say to me?”

  He sounded jealous, but Jamie had never come on to her like that.

  “Nothing. I don’t plan to go back. I’ve sacked Christian Roth from the case. I decided it was a waste of time. I’m going to do some research into the kidnappings and missing persons myself.”

  “So how come you were still at the offices?”

  “God! What is this, twenty questions? If you must know, I wasn’t. I’d left already. Luckily, Christian found me.”

  “Christian? Found you where? Where did you faint?”

  “In an alley,” she mumbled. “On the way back to the station.”

  “What the hell were you doing in an alley?”

  She heaved a huge, audible sigh. “Leave it will you, Jamie. I fainted but I’m okay, honest, just a little shocked. I’ll go to the doctors tomorrow,” she lied. “I’m probably anemic or something.”

  Jamie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Then he shrugged. “Let’s go get you something to eat.”

  “A steak,” she said. “I want a nice, big juicy steak.”

  “But you’re a vegetarian.”

  “Not any longer.”

  …

  Just how long was he supposed to give her, Christian wondered on waking the following evening.

  A month, a week, one night?

  One night sounded good. He was tempted to go and see her later that evening, but he’d promised to give her time. In most cases, he would have cleared her memory of the whole vampire thing before he sent her home last night. Piers had been pissed off that he hadn’t, but Tara was different. She had her own issues, all tied up with why a dead woman had been caring for her for the past twenty-two years.

  But those issues could wait. They weren’t likely to be pressing, whereas Gabriel dead and gangs of super-strong demons roaming the city were. His first priority was to kill the demons or send them back to the Abyss where they belonged. Then he’d be free to pursue his little human.

  How difficult could it be? He could sort out the demon problem tonight, and see Tara tomorrow.

  …

  The Order was housed in an office block, in the center of the business district of the city, a fifteen minute drive from his building. They rented out the upper floors to human businesses, but the building went below ground almost as far as it went up toward the sky, and it was here that the Order staff worked.

  Security cleared him, and he rode the elevator down to the lowest level where Piers had his office. It had once been Christian’s office, but now reflected Piers’s more flamboyant personality.

  “We lost another agent last night,” Piers told him. “Stefan.”

  A shaft of pain ripped through him. Stefan, like Gabe, was one of his. He’d been a good man before death and a good vampire after. “It doesn’t make sense. Why kill agents? They must know we’ll come after them.”

  “Maybe they are getting ready for another full-scale attack. Maybe they’re trying to weaken the Order.”

  “Picking off odd agents isn’t going to do that. There has to be something more.”

  Piers shrugged. “It could be that the attacks are more personal. You know Ella believes that Asmodai is involved. That he’s the source of the extra power. Maybe he’s after you.”

  Christian frowned. “Why me? Why make it personal?”

  “You were head of the Order during the last war. You were responsible for beating Asmodai and banishing him back to the Abyss. He must know that you wanted him killed. And look at the agents we’ve lost—Gabriel and Stefan. That sounds pretty fucking personal to me.” He cast Christian a pointed glance. “And perhaps he knows you feel the same way about him.”

  “Don’t go there,” Christian growled.

  “Look, I don’t know what happened, and I don’t care, but don’t ever try and deny there’s bad feeling between the two of you over and above your involvement in the wars.”

  Christian rubbed his forehead. Piers was right. It was too much of a coincidence.

  “We need to capture one of these demons,” Christian said.

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “It’s not going to be easy. They’re strong, and working in teams. Make sure none of the agents go out alone, and next time there’s a sighting we go in force. Get one of them alive. We need to find out who’s sending them and what they’re after. And we need to find out fast.”

  Piers grinned. “It’s good to have you back. I was seriously worried with all that businessman shit going in.”

  Christian frowned. “This is only temporary.”

  “Yeah, right. And afterward, you’ll be going back to your balance sheets. Of course you will.”

  Christian didn’t answer.

  “There’s also the little matter of the Walker,” Piers added. “The two things couldn’t be connected, could they?”

  “I can’t see a connection. The fae never leave their lands if they can help it.”

  “Yeah, they’re too fucking superior to mix with the likes of us.”

  “And there’s no way demons could have gone anywhere near the Faelands, or we’d have far more than the Walker to contend with. Did you have no luck arranging a meeting?”

  “Not yet. If he’s around he’s keeping a low profile.”

  “Maybe the information was wrong.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Christian fought down the nagging sense of frustration building inside him—he wanted this over with.

  A knock sounded on the door, and they both glanced up. Piers crossed the room and spoke briefly with the agent, before turning back to Christian. “There’s been a confirmed sighting close to where you nailed those three demons last night. That’s right next to your building again. Looks like it is you they’re after. Let’s go get the bastards.”

  They stopped at the weapons room.

  “Remember we want them alive,” Christian said as Piers strapped a sawed-off shotgun to his thigh.

  “These things have already taken down two of my men. I’m not taking any chances.” He slipped a couple of grenades into the slots on his belt. “Don’t worry, they’ll be alive.” He grinned. “They might also be in bits, but they’ll be alive.”

  …

  As the vehicle came to a halt, Christian slipped out of the SUV and sniffed the air. Straight away, he picked up the rank sulfur smell of a lesser demon. Something shifted in the shadows up ahead.

  “There they are,” he said.

  Piers came to stand beside him. “I see them. Just the two.” He sounded disappointed as he drew the shotgun from the holster at his thigh. “I’m going to take out the one on the left, you bring down the second one, and we’ll take it back for questioning.”

  “Okay, just remember, if you use that thing,” Christian nodded at the gun, “we have about five minutes before the cops get here.”

  Beside him, Piers raised the shotgun. “Don’t waste any time then.”

  The explosion filled the alley, and the first demon disintegrated in a shower of gore. Christian licked his lips as the warm blood sprayed across his face, a surge of power hitting his gut as the demon blood entered his system.

  The second demon raced down the alley. It glanced back over its shoulder as Christian took aim. The shot took it through the shoulder, whirling it round full circle and hurling it to the ground. Christian kept his gun cocked in his hand as he approached. He slipped the toe of his boot beneath
the body and flipped it onto its back.

  Crouching beside the injured demon, Christian grabbed it by the hair and dragged its head back. Its eyes flickered open, yellow, no pupil, only a thin black slit down the center. The eyes were lashless and dazed; they blinked a few times and focused on Christian. The recognition was instant.

  “Christian Roth.”

  A wave of fury washed over him. So this was personal. But why?

  His grip tightened on the demon’s hair. “Tell me why you are here. Tell me, and you can live.”

  “And go back to my master and inform him that we failed? It’s better to be dead.” It shrugged. “But our master told us there is no more need for secrecy. He wants you to know. He wants you to fear what is coming.”

  Christian’s eyes narrowed. “Who is your master?”

  “I serve Asmodai.”

  “Why does he want me dead?”

  The vile creature stared up into his eyes, and its lips curled into the semblance of a smile revealing pointed white teeth. “Who says he wants you dead? That is not the plan—or at least not yet.”

  “So what does he want?”

  The light was fading from the demon’s yellow eyes. It coughed and a froth of blood erupted from its lips, staining black against the dark red skin. When the coughing fit was over, its head fell back, the yellow eyes staring blankly into the night sky.

  Christian swore.

  “Weren’t we supposed to take it back for questioning?” Piers asked.

  “It must have taken poison.”

  “Obviously. So Asmodai is coming after you.”

  “It seems that way, but we’re no closer to knowing why.”

  Piers shrugged. “Maybe he just doesn’t like you, and he’s not alone in that. I could name a dozen people who would like you dead.”

  “Thanks, Piers. Very helpful. Are you going to call in a squad to clean this mess up, or are you going to leave London littered with dead demons?”

  “Already on its way.”

  Christian got to his feet. So, Asmodai was coming after him. Let him come. This time Christian would finish him off. Though he had an idea it was going to take longer than he’d originally envisaged.

  In the lull following the chaos, a vision of Tara flashed across his mind—it looked as though he wouldn’t be seeing her anytime soon.

  Chapter Six

  All Tara wanted was an ordinary life.

  A life like everyone else. Was it too much to ask after her peculiar childhood?

  Obviously it was.

  Slumping in her seat, she stared at her laptop. Displayed on the screen were details of the last missing person case that could even remotely be connected to her or Aunt Kathy. According to the information, the missing baby had turned up alive and well a few weeks later. So the kidnapping theory appeared to be a dead end.

  Tara dreaded what was next. She reached into her bag and drew out the red file Graham had given her a week ago. She didn’t want to read the file because she didn’t want to face up to what she knew was true.

  Christian Roth was a vampire.

  She’d searched her mind for alternate explanations, from hallucinogenic drugs to hypnosis—and rejected them all.

  That brought her back to the red file, because if Christian Roth were a vampire, then what other supernatural beings existed in the world—like zombies.

  Though Christian said that her aunt wasn’t a zombie. That had to be a good thing, didn’t it? Who wanted to find out that the woman who brought you up, who you loved, had been a flesh-eating monster?

  Some other sort of reanimated corpse, then. Just how many kinds were there? Taking a deep breath, she opened the file.

  But instead of reading, she sat back in her seat. She’d been doing her best not to think of Christian, but her best wasn’t particularly good. When she closed her eyes, he was there, in her mind, as she’d last seen him—six-foot-four of half-naked vampire.

  Her first ever kiss had been with a freaking vampire. What was it with her? She couldn’t even fall for a normal guy.

  She opened her eyes. It was lunchtime, the college library was busy, and they were everywhere—nice normal men, some of them even good looking, and none of them vampires. She banished Christian to the back of her mind, picked up the first sheet of paper in the file, and started to read.

  When she got to the end, she wasn’t any closer to the truth than before. The file just contained the evidence Christian had spoken of, including a coroner’s report stating cause of death. Kathryn Collins had died of a broken neck at the site of the accident.

  The next sheets were copies of newspaper articles, one about the accident, and a second relating to the disappearance of the body, which had been taken from the morgue the day after she died. Nobody knew why, and no clues were ever found.

  What hit Tara hardest was that Kathryn Collins died leaving no family. Her parents were dead and she’d had no siblings. None. Where did that leave Tara as her niece?

  Absolutely nowhere.

  She rubbed at her forehead to ease the dull ache throbbing behind her eyes. This information brought her no closer to finding out who she was or where she came from.

  Frustrated, she went to close the file and noticed Graham’s business card. Without giving herself time to think, Tara pulled out her cell phone and punched in the number.

  After a couple of rings, he picked up. “What?”

  He sounded grumpy, and she almost put the phone down. Instead, she forced herself to speak. “Hello, it’s Tara—Tara Collins.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Tara, sorry, I was asleep—not quite with it.”

  Tara glanced at her watch; it was almost one o’clock.

  “Hey, I work nights,” he said as if reading her mind.

  Of course he would work nights—after all, he worked for a vampire. “Sorry I woke you.”

  “No problem. You want to talk?”

  “Please.”

  “Where are you?”

  She told him.

  “There’s a coffee shop just round the corner,” he said. “Ginelli’s. I’ll meet you there in forty minutes.”

  …

  The place was clean, but basic, made good coffee, cheap food, and catered almost exclusively to students. With his long, elegant frame dressed in a silver gray designer suit and a dark blue shirt, Graham appeared like some exotic creature who’d wandered in by mistake. Tara in jeans and a jumper felt scruffy next to him.

  He smiled as he sat down. “So, you want to know all about vampires.”

  “Actually, I’d prefer to forget that they even exist. I guess that’s not going to happen, is it?”

  “No, probably not.”

  “Are you allowed to talk to me? You’re not breaking any code of secrecy.”

  “I can tell you, but they’d have to kill me, sort of thing?” He shrugged. “There is a code. Humans who get involved with vampires either don’t speak of it or they don’t survive very long.”

  “So why are you talking to me now?”

  “Christian told me to tell you whatever you wanted to know.”

  “But why?”

  “Maybe because you need to believe in order to find out what happened with your aunt, but I don’t think that’s it. I think he likes you.”

  Tara stopped stirring her coffee. “You do?”

  “I do, and that’s not something I’ve come across in the five years I’ve known him. Oh, I’m not saying he’s celibate or anything, but he doesn’t do relationships.”

  “We’re not having a relationship.”

  “No?”

  “I just feel that if I’m going to keep him on as an investigator—and I’m not sure that’s going to be the case—then I need to understand what he’s like, what I can expect.”

  “So, ask away.”

  Tara took a sip of coffee, stirred it some more. She wanted to know everything, but that wouldn’t sound very cool.

  “What are they? Where do they come from? Are they a dif
ferent species or were they once human? Do—”

  Graham held up a hand, a slight smile on his face. “That’s enough questions to start with. I’m not sure what they are, and I’m not sure they do either. I once asked Christian, and he said all they knew was that they were descended from an original group, but no one knows where that group came from, or if they do, they aren’t telling. But I do know Christian was once human. A long time ago.”

  “How long? How old is he?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. He was born sometime in the Middle-Ages, so over five hundred years, but he doesn’t talk about it much.”

  Wow, five hundred years. What would it be like to live that long? Go through all those changes, and see so many people die. She wondered if that bothered him, or whether he just saw humans as food. “Are you human?”

  He grinned. “What do you think? Yeah, I’m human.”

  “So how did you get mixed up in all this?”

  “I’m Christian’s human servant.” He thought for a moment as if wondering how much to tell her. “A bond forms when a vampire feeds a number of times from the same human. I’m tied to him. I don’t mind. He saved my life.”

  “How?”

  “I was sixteen, living on the streets and I was a real fucked-up mess. One night I pissed off the wrong people. They took me down an alley, and beat on me. I was almost dead when Christian came along. I’ve been with him ever since.”

  “What do you get out of it?”

  “I was a street punk—I wouldn’t have lasted much longer out there.” He grinned. “My mouth got me into trouble so many times it was lucky I lasted as long as I did. Now look at me.”

  She did. There was nothing of the street kid left in him, with his designer suits and his perfectly cut hair, his air of languid grace.

  “I’ve got a great job,” he continued. “Even if I do have to work nights. Christian has shown me a whole different way of life. All I have to do is donate a little blood now and then, and that’s hardly a hardship.” His face took on that dreamy expression he’d had when Christian had fed, and a wave of heat washed over her.

  “Are you in love with him?”

  He appeared startled at the question. “Who wouldn’t be? He is seriously gorgeous, but I told you he doesn’t go for guys, not like that.”