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

by Laura Kaye

  He stood impassive under her regard. When she didn’t speak, he took a step toward her. She made to move back, but Christian blocked her retreat.

  “You look like your mother,” Asmodai said.

  “So I’ve been told.”

  He reached out and cupped her cheek. She flinched, and then froze.

  “Do not fear me,” he said. “I wouldn’t harm you. You are my blood.”

  “I don’t fear you,” Tara said. “I hate you.”

  He studied her as she had studied him, head tilted on one side as though considering the best way to approach her. “You hold me responsible for the death of your friend.”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t know her, and I didn’t know she was your friend.”

  A wave of fury washed over her. “You think that makes it okay? Why was she killed?”

  He shrugged. “She was a means to an end. I wanted to hurt Christian Roth the way he hurt me. We believe in an eye for an eye, and he took your mother from me. I wanted him to know how that felt before I killed him.”

  “It doesn’t justify murder.”

  A frown creased his face. “You behave like a human.”

  She glared at him. “I thought I was a human.”

  A look of distaste crossed his face. “Hopefully that abnormality will pass, but then what will you be, I wonder. The demon-fae were always unpredictable.”

  She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. She might have accepted she wasn’t human, but unpredictable sounded like it could throw up some nasty surprises. She glanced at Christian.

  “Don’t ask me,” he said, “I’ve never met one. They were all killed before I was born.”

  “I’ve met them,” Piers said. “And yeah, unpredictable just about covers it.” He grinned. “I liked them.”

  “Well, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.” She turned back to Asmodai. “Why are you still here?”

  “I came here to offer you a home with me. A place at my side.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “I want only one thing from you.”

  “And that is?”

  “Leave Christian alone.”

  His glance flashed from her to Christian. “Don’t worry about your vampire lover. We’ve already reached an understanding. He’s safe from me.” He looked back to her. “Do you know where the vampires came from?” She shook her head. “Well perhaps one day I will tell you, but I think a vampire is a fitting mate for one such as you. Now, I’ll go.”

  “Wait,” Tara said. “Did you love my mother?”

  For a brief moment, his face softened. “Oh, yes.”

  “Did she love you?”

  “She gave up her people to be with me. She gave up everything and she would have followed me to the Abyss had she been able. She gave up her life for my child. Yes, she loved me.” He reached around his neck and pulled out a ring on a chain. “This was hers. She would have wanted you to have it.”

  Tara took the chain. The ring was a simple white-gold band, studded with glittering stones. She draped it over her neck so it rested where the talisman had lain for so many years.

  “One day,” Asmodai said, “you might want to know more about her. When that time comes, you are welcome in my home. Your vampire knows the way. No doubt, he will escort you and make sure you get safely back.”

  He leaned across, kissed her briefly on the forehead, and was gone.

  Her Father. Chloe’s killer. Christian’s worse enemy.

  All that remained of the demons was the faint tang of sulfur hanging in the air. A breeze blew across the rooftop and even that scent disappeared. Rain started to fall and she shivered.

  “Do you hate me?” she asked Christian softly.

  Surprise flashed across his face. “Why should I hate you?”

  “Because of who I am. What I am.”

  He pulled her to him, wrapping his strong arms around her, warming her. “No, I don’t hate you.”

  Graham walked across the rooftop. “Thank you,” he said to Tara.

  “For what?”

  “For saving my life. If Christian had died tonight, so would I.”

  “Christian wasn’t going to die.”

  “Asmodai would have beaten me.” Christian said. “If you hadn’t destroyed the talisman, he would have killed me.”

  Tara trembled. Christian must have felt it because he lifted her in his arms and cradled her to his chest. She nestled against him. “Don’t ever, ever, do anything like this again,” she whispered.

  He bent his head and kissed her. His lips were cool against hers, but his tongue was scalding hot as it slipped into her mouth and feasted on her. It was long minutes before he raised his head. “You asked me if I hated you.”

  She stilled.

  “I’ve lived for over five hundred years. In that time I’ve often questioned what I am, wondered whether I was evil. I am a vampire. I have no soul. I should have died many, many years ago, but tonight, for the first time I accepted what I was. For the first time, I have no regrets about the decision I made so long ago. I also had no regrets about giving up my life if it meant that you could have yours.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin. “All I’m trying to say is I could never hate you, whatever you are. I love you.”

  Tears pricked her eyes as he spoke the words.

  “I love you, too,” she said.

  He smiled and kissed the tears from her cheeks. “I accept what I am now, and I want you to do the same. Don’t hate yourself for what you are. I suspect you’re going to change—the talisman suppressed what you are and that’s gone now.”

  “Do you think I might sprout wings or grow a little taller?”

  “I don’t know, but don’t be afraid to look inside yourself. I’ve come to believe there is no such thing as pure evil or pure good, and maybe no such thing as a normal life.”

  Tara forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I’d already decided—I’m going to be a normal demon-fae.”

  “Good. Now I think we should go home and celebrate.” She flashed a quick glance at his face. His eyes were hot and hungry. “There’s a bottle of champagne in the fridge at my place.”

  “Champagne? Is that wise?” But fire sizzled through her veins as she remembered the last time she had drunk alcohol with Christian.

  “Probably not. But who cares?” He dropped a kiss on her lips. “I reckon it’s an important part of accepting your inner demon. Anyway, Graham can lock us in—let us out in a year or so.”

  “I’m not sure a year will be long enough.”

  “Ten then, or a hundred…we have forever.”

  He was right. No doubt, there would be repercussions for tonight but for now, she could relax, spend some time discovering who and what she was. Suddenly she was impatient to start. She looked around her; they were alone. It was raining harder now and everyone else had disappeared.

  “Come on,” she said. “Take me home.”

  Did you love Christian? Check out the rest of Nina Croft’s The Order series!

  Acknowledgments

  To Liz Pelletier at Entangled publishing for her fabulous covers, her wonderful editing, and her limitless enthusiasm. And to the ladies at Passionate Critters for reading my stories and letting me know what they really think. And finally to my gorgeous husband, Rob, for not getting too fed up when I spend most of my life playing in made up worlds.

  About the Author

  Nina Croft grew up in the north of England. After training as an accountant, she spent four years working as a volunteer in Zambia, which left her with a love of the sun and a dislike of 9-5 work. She then spent a number of years mixing travel (whenever possible) with work (whenever necessary) but has now settled down to a life of writing and picking almonds on a remote farm in the mountains of southern Spain. Nina’s writing mixes romance with elements of the paranormal and science fiction.

  www.ninacroft.com

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  Discover Nina Croft’s The Order series...

  Bittersweet Magic

  Roz has been indebted to the demon Asmodai for five hundred years. But after completing one last task for him—obtaining a key that had been hidden in a church centuries ago--she’ll be free. Piers, the Head of the Order and an ancient vampire, is intrigued by the woman who comes to him for help. He’ll find out who she is and what she really wants when he gets inside her head. But Piers has no idea that Roz is immune to his mind-control…or that he is simply a pawn in her dangerous mission for freedom.

  Bittersweet Darkness

  Introducing Nina Croft’s Blood Hunter novels…

  Break Out

  Two-thousand-year-old Ricardo Sanchez, vampire and rogue pilot of the space cruiser, El Cazador, can’t resist two things: gorgeous women and impossible jobs. When beautiful Skylar Rossaria approaches him to break a prisoner out of the Collective’s maximum security prison on Trakis One, Rico jumps at the chance. Being hunted by the Collective has never been so dangerous–or so fun!

  Deadly Pursuit

  Death Defying

  Other books by Nina Croft

  The Descartes Legacy

  Losing Control

  Out of Control

  Operation Saving Daniel

  Blackmailed by the Italian Billionaire

  Kenric St. James is out for revenge. Over 300 years ago, an ancient female vampire turned him against his will and killed the woman he loved. He’s spent more than a century building an Enclave of warrior vampires who have sworn to defend humanity against his evil sire and her minions. But when Kenric finds a woman he finally burns to claim as his own again, Kenric knows loving her means giving his sire another target.

  Emily Ross just wanted a fresh start. She’s a survivor, coming off the tail end of an abusive relationship, and craves time alone to learn who she is and to save the home that holds her heart. The last thing she needed was a controlling, alpha male calling all the shots.

  Meeting Kenric might just have changed her mind, though. He is wrong for her in all the right ways. But in order to keep her heart from breaking, he first has to keep the hordes of evil vamps from stealing her very breath.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Jessica Lee. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Edited by Erin Molta

  Cover design by Kim Killion

  ISBN 978-1-62266-098-8

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition June 2013

  To the Alpha Male who rocks my world at home, this is for you, sweetheart. Your love and support, no matter how crazy of an idea I have, mean everything to me. I love you—Always.

  Dear Readers

  Thank you for your interest in the Enclave series. I’ve also been an avid reader of paranormal romance for at least the last ten years. Hey, what’s not to love about alpha males with fangs? Yeah…I admit it. I was the girl who cheered for Dracula to escape with his queen. He was so darn sexy!

  Hot vampires with a strong moral center despite their tortured past—this is what drew me to the warriors of the Enclave. A group of bad boy vampires who, no matter how the sins of their past haunt them, can’t walk away from those who need them. Especially the women who’ve captured their hearts and touched their souls. These are the heroes and heroines whose stories had to be told. And I hope you fall in love with them as much as I did.

  Much love,

  Jessica Lee

  Chapter One

  “Whoever you are, you’d best have a damn good reason to continue breathing,” Kenric rumbled.

  It took balls for someone to enter his secured, private quarters within the compound while he slept. A part of him respected the bravado, but he despised games.

  The cold edge of serrated steel trailed down his midsection. “Now, Kenric St. James, is that any way to speak to your sire?” An unmistakable female voice whispered at his ear.

  He lunged.

  Kenric’s momentum propelled them both across the shielded darkness of his bedroom. Her head smacked the wall with a satisfying crack followed by the thud of the blade against the hardwood floor.

  With his hand constricting her throat, Kenric hissed through descended fangs, “Death is all that awaits you here, Marguerite.” The thundering beat of his heart filled his ears. “I will see you pay for murdering Annice. And I’ll have revenge for every other life you’ve destroyed.”

  A wicked smile curled her lips before she laughed. Ready to purge three centuries of vengeance from his gut, he tightened his grip.

  His hand collapsed around dead air. “Son of a bitch!”

  Seconds later, a force slammed into his chest, propelling him across the room. His back struck the mattress. A naked, grinning Marguerite appeared, straddling his hips. Her hand slid between their bare bodies.

  Kenric snatched her wrist. “That will never happen again.” Tossing her off him, he leaped to his feet.

  “Maybe this would be more to your liking?” Marguerite’s form shimmered. Her black-as-sin hair morphed into long blonde ringlets. Her body transformed. Layers of white satin and lace soon covered her nakedness.

  His gaze followed the familiar white dress down to her small slippers, then up again, following her soft curves and slight bosom. A sorrow-filled lump, the size of his heart, formed in his throat. His breath hitched. The gown was exactly like the one Annice had been wearing the day he’d proposed—more than three hundred years ago.

  Large blue eyes, almost too large for her face, met his gaze. He grabbed the nearest bedpost, steadying his legs. Kenric stepped forward before his mind even registered he’d moved. But reality slammed into his brain and he yanked on the brake.

  How could Marguerite be this evil? What the hell was he thinking? Marguerite Devonshire didn’t give a shit. She didn’t care if she ripped open old wounds and flooded them with salt. She only cared if the action suited her own needs.

  Annice was dead. And the woman wearing the masquerade had murdered her.

  “How are you doing this, Marguerite?” he growled. “And what the hell do you want? You’re too narcissistic for a death wish, and I damn well don’t need a reminder of what a sadistic bitch you are.”

  “Ouch, darling.” Marguerite clucked her tongue and wagged one thin finger back and forth. “Now that’s not nice. I’m here because I’ve missed you.” She rose and sauntered forward, a disturbing blend of Annice’s body with Marguerite’s voice. She lifted her hand as if to rest it on his chest. Kenric backpedaled before she could make contact. Her eyelids narrowed as she dropped her arm to her side. Yeah. It was Annice’s face, but malice leaked through her pores like venom, a stinging reminder that she was all Marguerite.

  “I wanted to surprise you. Do you like your dream so far?” She caressed the curves of her borrowed image.

  A fucking dream. She was inside his head and screwing with his mind. Marguerite had already taken his life and blackened his soul, but no way in hell was she going to crawl around inside his brain and infect the only part of him left that was human: his memories.

  Wi
th a smug grin, she added, “I had to do something to get the master of the Enclave’s attention. We’ve been out of touch for far too long. What has it been, three hundred years now?”

  If she wanted chitchat, she had the wrong enemy. He shot her a look that said, get to the damn point.

  “Don’t look so grumpy, love. I wanted to remind you of how perfect we are for each other. Annice would have never been happy with you.”

  “Don’t even go there. You defile her name,” he spat. “You didn’t know a damn thing about her.”

  “Oh, I’m sure the pitiful human female would have wanted children, and as you know, that’s not possible. You would have made her miserable. Not to mention the bloodlust that would have plagued you each time you fucked her.”

  She giggled. “Her sweet little heart would have never fared well with that healthy…” Her gaze dipped low, then back to his face,“…appetite of yours.” She released a long sigh before continuing. “We belong together, Kenric, and you need to accept that fact.”

  “The only fact that needs to be accepted here is that when I find you—” his voice dipped into a snarl,“—and I will find you—you’re going to wish you’d never tasted my blood. Because I’m going to make sure Annice’s death is paid for with yours.” He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction to her declarations about Annice—it would only encourage her. Even if she was right. Not about the children. The bloodlust. Unlike human men, he’d been gifted or cursed, depending on how you looked at it, with the benefit of never having to worry about disease or pregnancy when he fucked. The burden he carried was much worse. Sex and bloodlust went hand in hand. He never wanted to submit any female to the cravings he’d experienced during his time as Marguerite’s slave.

  Marguerite scowled and whirled. “You always were a self-righteous, holier-than-thou son of a bitch. I see a few centuries without me have done nothing to improve your personality.”