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

by Laura Kaye

  “I can drink other things on occasion. If I wish. But I don’t necessarily get thirsty.”

  He’d parked himself inside the closed front door, leaning against it in that casual, I-have-no-idea-how-sexy-I-look kind of way. The leather jacket he’d slipped on before they’d left and all that midnight wavy hair added to his bad-boy aura.

  “Okay. Well, if you would like something tonight, there should be sweet tea and soda in there.” She backpedaled a couple of steps, then spun and headed down the hall.

  Entering her room, she noticed the red light from the answering machine was blinking. She strode over to the table and groaned, knowing the callers were probably the people she despised most in the world. Bill collectors, or Jeff, her ex-fiancé. The thought of either made her want to hurl. Both hounded her constantly for money. She braced herself and pressed Play.

  Yup, collectors. Including one call from the bank holding the lien on the condo. If they didn’t have her payment soon, she risked foreclosure. Why she had allowed Jeff Monroe to convince her to borrow so much money, she’d never understand. She took a deep breath and released it, blowing the bangs out of her eyes.

  The next three messages mimicked the first. Payment due immediately. Then she came to Jeff’s. Of course he’d called. Why the hell would he even think of giving her more than a seventy-two-hour break from his bullshit? His deep voice, scratchy from years of smoking, filled the bedroom. “You owe me. Pay up, bitch, or I’ll make sure you wish you did.” The call ended. It was always the same threat.

  What had she ever seen in him? She’d been too young and too desperate for attention. So eager to jump into the arms of the first man who acted as if he wanted to take care of her. Never again. She slammed her finger down on the delete button.

  Emily changed into a pair of her own cotton sweats and a matching T-shirt. She brushed her teeth and ran a brush through her hair. Kenric had already seen her without makeup, so no sense in going there. Turning off the bathroom light, she grabbed the door frame and took a deep, calming breath.

  He wasn’t in the living room when she returned. Ice clinked against glass in the kitchen. Maybe tonight, he had a taste for something…cold.

  “Thirsty tonight?” Emily nodded at the drink in his hand. He stood in the open door of her avocado green refrigerator, pouring a glass of sweet tea.

  “No. Actually, I made it for you. You still need to drink a lot of fluids.”

  “Thanks. By the way, here’s my cell number.” Emily held out a slip of paper. She’d jotted it down before leaving the bedroom. Kenric silently moved toward her over the black-and-white tiles.

  “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?” He stopped in his tracks.

  “Move like that?” She pointed to his boots. “Without a sound. It’s spooky. It’s like you’re not really here. I’m looking at you walking toward me, but I can’t hear you.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was doing it.” Suddenly, the sound of his boots returned. The hard soles thumped the floor as he took the final two steps to hand her the tea.

  “Thanks for the tea. That was very thoughtful,” she said, reaching for the glass. Her fingers brushed his. He didn’t let go. She glanced up, and for a moment, she found herself captured by his gaze. Long dark eyelashes overshadowed striking blue eyes. A faint smile lifted his lips. She hoped her T-shirt and bra were thick enough to hide the effect he had on her nervous system.

  “It was my pleasure,” he said and handed her the glass before he took the piece of paper and slipped it into his pocket.

  “So, what didn’t you realize you were doing?” Emily crossed her arms over her chest and headed into the living room.

  “I imagine I do it without thinking anymore.” Kenric’s deep voice followed her. “We’re able to silence our movements. It’s essential when we need to feed, and when we hunt the ones who enjoy killing. We have the ability to levitate and move without striking the surface. In effect, we glide.”

  “Incredible,” Emily said as she took a seat on her overstuffed, brown-and-white-checkered couch. “I can see where that would come in handy.” The ice cubes twirled in her tea while she fidgeted with the glass. She glanced up and smiled. “I have to say, though, it’s still spooky.”

  He laughed, then added a warm smile. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall beside the sofa.

  “You are so refreshing.”

  Man, he curled her toes with the sultry sound of his voice. “Gabrielle seemed nice,” she said, covering up her reaction. Real smooth transition there, girl. You’re not obvious at all.

  “Yes, she is.”

  She cleared her throat and stared at the ice in her drink. “I noticed she didn’t make the same pledge as Logan and Guerin. She is part of the Enclave, right?”

  “Elle is human. She works with us, but she’s not an Enclave warrior. She’s been with us and under my protection for five years now and is an invaluable part of our team.”

  “She’s human? I didn’t realize. She’s under your protection, too—like me.” Wonder how many beautiful women he thought needed his private security services?

  “Are you two close?” She chanced a glance from under her lashes. He stared back at her, a slight grin lifting his lips.

  “What? Why are you grinning at me like that?” She had to resist the urge to kick him in the shin and knock that smile right off his mug.

  “Are you jealous, Wildflower?” He moved away from the wall and came closer. With the tips of his fingers, he lifted her chin. “She’s family. Like a sister whom I care a great deal for. But that’s all there is. And in case it’s the next question coming, you are the only woman whom I’ve placed under my protection outside of the Enclave.”

  Emily pulled her chin free. “Well, it’s nice to hear that you care so much about each other. And just so that we’re clear here…,” She hesitated a second to make sure she had his complete attention, “…I’m not jealous, and like I’ve said before, I’m not yours or anyone else’s wildflower.”

  She leaned forward to set her tea on the coffee table—and missed. The glass hit the floor and shattered. Tea and shards of glass flew in all directions across the pale hardwood floor.

  “Oh, my God!” Emily jumped to her feet and bolted into the kitchen. After snatching a towel from the counter, she hurried back to the wet mess, forgetting she was barefoot.

  “Ouch!” Damn.

  “Be careful.” Kenric grabbed hold of her while she hobbled on one foot. “Here, let me help,” he said, tugging at the dish towel.

  “I’ve got it.” She yanked the rag free and dropped to the floor, mopping at the sticky mess. “If I’m capable of creating this mess, I think I can clean it up.” God, she was so embarrassed.

  “Damn.” Emily jerked her hand from the soaked towel. She peered at the center of her palm.

  “Let me see.” Kenric knelt down beside her and wrapped his hand around her wrist.

  “I’m the nurse here. I’m all right.” Emily tried to pull free from his grasp.

  “Let me help you. You’re shaking—it’s okay.” He held her hand steady.

  How did he do it? Make everything better with his gentle words and the touch of his hand? She quit her struggles and allowed him to help. She peered over his shoulder as he worked the glass free from her palm. He ran the pad of his finger across the surface. A small drop of blood formed in the center of her hand. Before she could react, he lowered his head.

  His lips touched the sensitive center. She gasped. The warmth of his tongue brushed across the wound. She nearly came unglued. Christ, how could something so simple feel so erotic? From under his lashes, his blue eyes met hers. Without words, his gaze alone told her he enjoyed her taste.

  “Let me take care of you,” he said, lowering her hand. He reached for her foot.

  She opened her mouth to protest, but no sound emerged.

  He pulled the shard free, and then his warm lips met the sole of her foot. A whimper came out of n
owhere. That had to be her. His tongue moved to her ankle, and a moan filled the room. Oh yeah, that was her.

  No. no. no. Too much, too fast. What was she thinking? Emily jumped up. She grabbed the towel and limped toward the kitchen. “Uh…I’ll be right back.”

  …

  Kenric couldn’t fight back the growl that rolled from his own throat. She’d tasted like sin, and he’d lost his soul to her flavor. He’d healed her foot, and now he wanted more. Much more. The sound of her pleasure-filled moan, and her passionate gaze, had blasted the lock off his control. Thank God she’d jerked away when she had. He couldn’t have borne another minute without touching more of her.

  Emily stepped back into the room, another glass of tea in her hand. Kenric moved to one end of the couch and took a seat. Without a word, she eased down onto the opposite side. He didn’t have to be a vampire with supernatural senses to detect the thick wall of tension growing between them.

  “Listen…,” Emily cleared her throat. She glanced in his direction then stared off at some invisible spot on the far wall. “I think I should make it clear that I’m not ready or looking for a man, of any kind, in my life.” She traced the edge of her glass, then turned and this time met his gaze. “I agreed to help you get what you need from the hospital, and I’ll keep my word. But after that…”

  “That’s all I ask…” Kenric inhaled deeply. “Nothing more.”

  “Good.” She nodded, then took a sip of her beverage.

  “Good.”

  She leaned forward and placed her glass on the table. “I’m glad we agree.”

  “We do.”

  “You’re so not my type anyway.”

  “I’m not your type…?” The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. “Because of what I am?”

  “Could you blame me if it was? The first time we met, you bit me.” She shifted in her seat and met him head-on. “But that’s not the whole issue. You’re a bit of a control freak. Good Lord, you even have your own Enclave.” Emily shook her head. “Vampire or not, you would drive me crazy wanting to control my life. Been there, done that. Got the T-shirt, memories, and bruises from the trip. Not going back.”

  Another growl exploded up from his chest, but he choked it back. He’d overwhelmed her enough.

  Bruises?

  “Who hurt you?” His gums tingled from the threat of his fangs. It was all he could do to keep them in check. Hold it together, vampire.

  Emily stood. “Bad word choice.” She dismissed his question with the wave of her hand and moved toward the kitchen, giving him her back. “No one hurt me. I don’t know why I said that.”

  He didn’t plan what happened next. Instinct claimed his brain and his limbs, and before he could think better of the action, he was in front of her. She gasped and stopped in her tracks.

  “You’re lying.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t know that.” She lifted her chin, her jaw tight.

  “There. Right there.” Kenric lifted his hand, and with one finger, traced the delicate outline of her chin. “I can see the tension.” He dropped his arm. “You’re lying.”

  “I don’t appreciate being called a liar, and my past is none of your business.” The green flecks in her irises sparkled.

  “I didn’t say you were a liar, only that you’re lying now. I don’t like the idea that someone hurt you.”

  “This is what I’m talking about.” Her hands went to her hips, and her voice lowered to a near rumble. “I tell you nothing happened, but you won’t let it go.” She shoved at his chest. “You can just kiss my—”

  Kenric claimed her mouth, breathing in her gasp. The thought of someone else touching her, hurting her, made him scream inside. He wanted to protect her. Mark her.

  She moaned and gripped his biceps. Not pushing him away, but holding on for more. She opened her lips, and the sweetness of her desire flowed from her lips and tongue. Emily was fire and ice. A blistering mixture that burned him to his core.

  But he’d die before he’d allow her to be hurt again, or worse, hauled into a war that wasn’t hers. A war that could cause her much more than pain.

  It could kill her.

  That was the very reason why he hadn’t taken a lover in centuries, and his aversion to the heightened lust for blood associated with sex. All gifts from his years spent as Marguerite’s slave.

  So who was the bigger monster here? The bastard who’d bruised her? Made her fear another relationship? Or the selfish male who would risk her life to have her in his? He groaned. Torn between his rational mind and his desires. But there really was no choice.

  This could go no further. The night would end exactly as it should.

  With him leaving.

  His cell phone chimed.

  Perfect timing.

  Kenric reached deep inside and tore himself away. Emily stumbled back but quickly gained her balance. After putting some distance between them, he pressed the answer key. “Kenric.”

  “There’s a problem,” Elle’s soft voice replied. “It’s Markus. Arran called and said they’d had a run-in with a few DEADs. He’s missing.”

  “How long?” His grip bore down on the phone. The hard plastic case popped under the pressure.

  “He didn’t say. Just said to tell you and Guerin he’ll be out searching until dawn.”

  “I’m on my way back. Have Guerin contact Arran and find out where he’s searched so far. The night is almost gone, and we need to make efficient use of what’s left.”

  He jabbed End Call as Emily came up behind him. He didn’t need to see her to know she was there. Her warmth slid over his body, wrapping him like a hot blanket on a cold night. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply through his nostrils. The sweet floral scent that was uniquely Emily rode the air, laced with the hint of her lingering arousal. Her very presence heated his blood and calmed his soul. Opening his eyes, he glanced over his shoulder.

  “What’s happened?” She crossed her arms under her breasts.

  “I’m sorry. I have to leave,” he said, reaching for the keys in his pocket. “One of my warriors is missing. I’ll call you tomorrow evening as planned.”

  Kenric paused long enough to place his card on the table near the front door. “If you need me, my number is right here.”

  Mid-step over the threshold, he stopped and turned, knowing she stood inches behind him. “Goodnight, Wildflower.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Making tracks down the hallway toward the kitchen, Kenric kept pace behind Arran.

  Dawn had arrived.

  The UV light forced the warriors to find shelter inside. And to leave one of their own behind. Frustration rolled off the team, swirling and surrounding them like a dense fog. The air pulsed with its intensity.

  Arran’s fist slammed into the kitchen’s swinging door, knocking it open and into the opposite wall with a loud bang. Sitting at the center island, Michael jumped, sloshing coffee down the front of his shirt. He cursed and frantically grabbed for a towel.

  With a click and a hum, the electronic darkening system went to work on the bank of windows in the kitchen and throughout the compound.

  Guerin and Logan strode into the room, abusing the wood of the door with equal venom.

  “I’ll take to the sky again at dusk,” Kenric said, the consolation directed at Arran, who stood with his hands braced on the back of a kitchen chair, his back in a defeated hunch and his blond head hanging. The muscles in his forearms flexed as he white-knuckled the wood. Kenric swung his gaze to Guerin before adding, “Getting an earlier start in my raven form, I’ll have a better chance at finding a clue. Hopefully, the storm won’t damage whatever trail might be left behind.” As if on cue, thunder rumbled on the other side of the shutters.

  “True,” Guerin said, running his fingers through his rain-slicked hair, then turned his head toward Arran. “Arran…”

  With a roar, Arran hurled the chair into the wall, silencing whatever Guerin had started to say. It broke apart, multiple
pieces flying in every direction. The sound of splintering wood reverberated off the tiled floors and steel appliances.

  The last piece struck the floor, leaving nothing but pained silence.

  All eyes fixed on the vampire wrestling with his rage. He paced the floor, sucking air into his lungs as if it were fuel for his anger.

  Minutes passed, though it seemed more like an hour, before Arran regained enough control for speech.

  “I fucking hate being trapped!” His fist hammered a single blow onto the top of the island.

  “We all do. But we don’t take it out on the damn furniture,” Logan said disdainfully from across the room.

  “Fuck you!” Arran spun on his heels. He lunged toward Logan with fangs bared.

  Kenric stepped between them.

  Arran’s fierce glare met his, giving Kenric all the opening he needed. He dived in, grabbed Arran’s mind, and seized control.

  “For the record, I don’t give a shit about the chair,” Kenric said with a firm grip inside Arran’s head. “But I do give a shit about my warriors tearing each other apart.” He released his mental hold.

  Arran staggered. His eyes narrowed on Kenric for a moment before he recessed his fangs. Kenric rotated on his heels and faced Logan, making sure he, too, got the signal to back down.

  “We’re all just a little on edge, Kenric. Sorry, man.” Logan glanced in Arran’s direction. “We’re cool. Right, Arran?”

  “Ice.” Arran wheeled, giving Logan his back.

  The frigid display confirmed Kenric’s suspicion. Something more churned beneath the surface between these two. Their actions spoke of two males who had an ax to grind—or a grudge to settle. When Arran had joined the Enclave ten years ago, Kenric had asked them whether they’d known each other during their early years spent in the Highlands. Both had denied it.

  Getting a wolf to heel was easier than trying to get Arran to talk about his past. And all Kenric could pry out of Logan was that he’d met Arran about a century ago up north when they were both part of another colony of vampires. Logan had summarized his opinion of Arran with one simple statement: he hadn’t liked the bastard back then, and he was on the fence now.