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

by Laura Kaye

  They’ve waited in the shadows for centuries…

  Calisto has no doubt Kate is the reincarnation of his lost love, but the Fraternidad Del Fuego Santo has a new watcher with dark ambitions of his own. As old enemies re-emerge and a new threat arises, the betrayal that enslaved Calisto to the night might destroy the only woman he’s ever loved again.

  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 © 2011 by Lisa Kessler. 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 Kerri-Leigh Grady

  Cover design by Heather Howland

  eBook ISBN 978-1-937044-12-1

  Print ISBN 978-1-937044-13-8

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First edition August 2011

  To Ken and Ally,

  who read Night Walker in all its

  incarnations and never lost hope

  in the book or me…

  Dear Reader

  The story behind Night Walker reads like something out of a paranormal novel, but I assure you it’s true!

  For years I wrote every night for fun, but I never even considered writing a novel. But that all changed the night I visited a palm reader in New Orleans.

  I wandered into a shop in the French Quarter and met an amazing woman who shocked me with her accuracy. Sitting across from her, I watched her study the lines of my hand. Even with my wedding ring hidden in my pocket and the kids back at the hotel she told me I had two children: an older daughter and a younger son. That got my attention.

  She jotted down notes on a 3” x 5” card about my personality traits and signs to be aware of, and then started to walk me out. When I got to the door, I turned to thank her and she said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you a writer?”

  “Not really.” My brow furrowed and I finally nodded with a shrug. “I write every night, but it’s just for fun.”

  She smiled and I swear her eyes sparkled. “You’re going to be a famous writer one day.”

  I walked back to the hotel in a daze, clueless about how I would ever write a book or get published, but she’d planted the seed that night. For the rest of our stay in New Orleans, I kept thinking about what I would write.

  At the time I loved reading vampire books, but I was tiring of the typical European trope. I’d always heard you should write what you know, so I thought about San Diego. The oldest building in San Diego is the Mission De Alcala, founded by priests from Spain in the 1700’s.

  The more I thought about it, the idea grew to include the Kumeyaay Tribe and the Mayans, and by the time we were in the New Orleans airport to fly home, I wrote the original plotline for Night Walker on cocktail napkins. (I didn’t own a laptop back then! LOL)

  I wrote the first version of the book in about five months. It consumed me. Since then I’ve written four more installments in the Night series world and completed the series.

  The Night series is full of tortured heroes, immortal blood drinkers, passion, and danger. I hope you’ll enjoy the journey… Thanks for reading!

  - Lisa Kessler

  Prologue

  Kate couldn’t remember the drive home or walking from her car to her front door. Her mind kept replaying Tom’s surprised face, the way he jerked his hands free of the woman’s tight sweater, and the flushed cheeks of his grad student. Her knuckles ached from clenching her fists, struggling to control her emotions. Blood smeared across the palm of her hand where her fingernail broke the skin.

  She could still hear his footsteps echoing behind her in the desolate parking lot and the pleading in his voice. “Please, can’t we talk about this?” His desperation made her nauseous.

  What could he possibly explain?

  After three tries, she finally managed to calm her trembling hands and unlock her apartment door. Forcing a deep breath into her lungs, she steeled herself for what awaited. The eight-by-ten engagement photo smiled at her from the side table. Her knees threatened to buckle under the weight of betrayal.

  Leaning against the door, she struggled to understand. Their wedding was less than a month away. All their plans, their dreams, tossed away for a pair of most-likely-fake double Ds.

  How could she have been so blind? She almost married him.

  For the third time since she’d sped away from the university, her cell phone buzzed. She powered it off and tossed it aside. The bastard could call all night, send flowers, beg on his knees, but nothing would change the fact that she’d never walk down the aisle in the designer gown that he insisted she buy. She’d never move into the new condo they’d had their eye on. And she would never trust him again.

  It was over.

  She wiped her nose and glared at the photo on the table. Shouldn’t she be jealous? Did she even care if he’d slept with this woman? Was she devastated because she would miss Tom, or because her life wasn’t turning out the way she thought it should?

  Puzzled, she pushed away from the door and turned the frame facedown on the table. Her gaze locked onto her parents’ photo. Nearly two years had slipped by since the accident. She’d worked so hard to distance herself from the pain of their loss that she’d avoided dealing with the remainder of their estate. She still hadn’t sold their house.

  Instead, she’d pushed her relationship with Tom forward, avoiding her emotions by planning a wedding to a man she wasn’t certain she loved.

  Gripping the frame, she tilted the photo to cut the glare from the overhead light. Her mother’s warm smile brought a swell of heartache—real heartache, not this shock of betrayal and sudden change that Tom had delivered.

  “I wish you were here, Mom.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “You probably would’ve seen right through his sexy, crooked smile.”

  She waited, half-expecting to hear her mother’s voice telling her she deserved better.

  Because she did.

  “I think it’s time for me to go back home. I’m through hiding, Mom.”

  Once she returned the photo to the table, the tightness in her chest loosened its grip. This wasn’t the end of the world. In fact, it was a chance at a new beginning.

  She’d call her school in the morning and let them know she needed a leave of absence. Then she’d get in touch with the caterers and the perky wedding planner.

  She could be on the road by the afternoon. She lifted her chin a notch and dropped her engagement photo in the trashcan. Tomorrow, she would take control of her life and her future, and this time she wouldn’t rush into anything.

  Chapter One

  When they parked at the Mission de Alcala, Kate stared up at the bells. Although she grew up in San Diego, she’d never played tourist and visited this famous landmark, which she admitted now was a shame. The white arched bell tower of the first Spanish mission in the New World stretched toward the heavens, oblivious to the changing landscape around it. For a moment, she felt like she’d been transported back in time.

  Edie hefted her camera bag over her shoulder. “Hurry up! We don’t want to end up standing for the service.”

  “I’m coming.” Kate ran up the uneven tile steps after her friends.

  When they entered the white adobe sanctuary, her breath caught in her throat. The natural pine ceiling arched high above them, voices echoed in the cavernous space, and soft chords from the pipe organ at the rear of the hall floated down. The music washed over the congregation, filling the church with its somber peace.

  Her mother would have lov
ed this place.

  Lori grabbed Kate’s hand and pulled her across the sanctuary to a pew by the opposite door. Candlelight filled the chamber with a warm glow, and soon the only sounds were the soft chants from the priests. Images of Christ’s crucifixion lined the walls, and the quiet hymns from the choir added to the poignancy of the Mass. Bittersweet sorrow swelled in her heart. This would be her second holiday season without her parents, and her first without Tom. The Mass felt like a solemn reminder she was alone in the world.

  The room blurred behind a wave of tears.

  “I need some air. I’ll be right outside,” Kate whispered to Edie.

  Edie gave her an are you all right look, and Kate managed to smile and nod before slipping out the door. As the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind her, she stepped into a lush courtyard with centuries-old adobe crosses rising through thick ferns that threatened to swallow them. More candles flickered around the garden. Shadows moved across the surrounding walls, mingling with the darkness that gathered in the corners and alcoves.

  The cool night air filled her lungs, calming the storm brewing inside her. Seeing the families and couples in the sanctuary stirred up heartache. She had erected protective walls around the spaces her parents and her ex-fiancé used to fill, but now they crumbled. Kate took another deep breath and stared at the pale moon. She could almost hear her mother’s voice telling her to stay strong. Keep moving forward.

  Just as she’d promised herself she’d do.

  Clearing her throat, Kate focused on her surroundings and followed a worn tile path to a weathered sign. The courtyard, and the crosses within it, honored the Native American neophytes who worked at the mission in its early years. Kate scanned the garden again, finding even more of the half-hidden handmade crosses peering at her from a thicket of ferns. Most of them now leaned to the side, weathered from years of exposure to the sun and rain.

  The once-strong angles of the markers now drooped as though they wept.

  She followed the path deeper into the garden and found another cross nearly engulfed by the foliage and flowers that grew around it. Though the path here was unkempt and the aging monument covered in moss, a simple floral wreath adorned the neck of the cross.

  How many Native Americans died at the mission in its early years? She wondered if anyone really knew. She learned about the missions in elementary school, but her teachers never discussed the relationship between the missionaries and the local tribes. Was neophyte a fancy word for slave? She didn’t know, but whatever their role might have been, it was encouraging to see the indigenous people who had lived at the mission had not been forgotten.

  When the service concluded, the murmur of soft conversation broke through her solitude. Mass was over already? Kate frowned. How long had she been outside?

  Car engines started and brakes squeaked, the headlights drowning out the candlelit shadows. Beyond the black wrought iron gates, small groups of people departed together until finally the floodlights over the parking lot blinked off. She would have worried about Lori and Edie’s absence, but she knew they had plans with their digital cameras after the mass.

  According to her friends, Dia de los Muertos was the perfect night for ghost hunting. Lori and Edie always enjoyed ghost stories when they were kids, and their fondness grew until they considered themselves amateur paranormal investigators. What better place to find them than in the oldest building in San Diego on the one night a year reserved for the dead?

  Kate didn’t share their zeal for spirits, but she had no problem waiting for them to have their fun. She was happy to have a few minutes to herself anyway.

  The candlelight glimmered around her, the flickering flames left to burn out sometime before morning. The warm glow made for eerie light, casting long shadows of the weeping crosses over the garden. It was exquisite and melancholy in the same moment.

  She caught a sudden chill. The longer she lingered, the more her sadness mutated into unease.

  The back of her neck prickled. Kate crossed her arms and walked toward the sanctuary doors. She suddenly felt exposed and alone. Before she reached the doors, Lori and Edie came up the path at the other end of the courtyard, snapping pictures as they walked, until Lori disappeared from view.

  When Edie saw Kate approach, she grinned. “Oh, you should see some of the great shots we got tonight. We had lots of orbs in a couple of pictures of the bell tower. There might be even more when we can look at them on a larger screen.”

  “You’ll have to show me once you get them on the computer.” Kate glanced around the courtyard. “Where’d Lori go?”

  Edie turned around. “She was right behind... ”

  “Edie... Kate.” Lori’s voice, a loud and insistent whisper, emanated from the shadows.

  Kate flinched when she heard her name. She had no idea why she was so jumpy tonight. They tracked down Lori and found her kneeling by one of the crosses. She beckoned them closer.

  Edie rushed over with an eager grin, camera at the ready. “Wow. Look at this.” She squatted beside Lori.

  The cross was smaller than most of the others, weather-beaten and canted. There was a single letter in the center, a T, and a single candle burned beside a bundle of large white blossoms.

  “Who do you think left those?” Lori whispered.

  Kate shrugged. None of the other crosses had fresh offerings. “Probably the priests, right?”

  “I don’t know.” Lori glanced at the other crosses. “Maybe this person’s relatives still visit every year.”

  “Can you imagine?” Edie whispered. “Being remembered like that? I hope someone’s still bringing me flowers after I’ve been dead a couple hundred years.”

  Kate thought about correcting them, telling them these crosses were memorials to the Native Americans. But she didn’t. Something about the cross held her rapt. The conversation around her faded away as Kate moved in closer to the fragrant blossoms.

  She’d never seen flowers like these with huge, beautiful blooms of white, silky petals and a center like pure sunshine. And the scent. It was the primrose-like perfume that made her reach out to touch them, entranced by their spell.

  Had she seen these flowers before?

  “Kate? Are you okay?”

  Kate looked up at Lori, her brow furrowed and mouth pinched in concern. “I’m fine,” she said, yanking her hand away from the flowers. “Just a little tired, I guess.”

  “We’re almost done. We need a couple more pictures around the front by the steps,” Edie said.

  “All right.” Kate straightened, still unable to pull her attention away from the cross and its bouquet. “I’ll wait for you here, okay?”

  Lori continued to frown, but Edie said, “No problem. We’ll be right back.”

  Kate watched them wander off before kneeling closer to the cross. Unable to stop herself, she traced her finger along the T in the center.

  Behind her, someone cleared his throat. Kate jerked her hand away and shot to her feet. When she turned around she found a tall, dark-haired man staring at her.

  Her cheeks flushed with heat. She hoped he hadn’t witnessed her touching the relic. She waited for some kind of admonishment, but he didn’t say anything.

  Not with words.

  Something in his dark eyes captured her. His gaze wandered over her face like a tender caress, and strangely, instead of screaming for Lori and Edie, she caught herself imagining his touch on her skin.

  “I hope I did not frighten you,” he said.

  His deep voice resonated through the empty courtyard, and the intimate tone weakened her knees. The hint of a Spanish accent didn’t hurt, either. Nervous laughter escaped her before she could contain it.

  Her face warmed all over again. “Just a little startled. I didn’t see anyone else out here.”

  He stepped closer without encroaching on her personal space, his eyes locked with hers from beneath thick lashes. “Forgive me.”

  She swallowed hard and prayed she wasn’t blushi
ng. “No problem.” She looked away before she embarrassed herself even further, focusing on the cross. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

  “Si.” He nodded slowly. “Yes, it is.” His barely there smile made her think he wasn’t referring to the flowers or the cross. “I am Calisto. Calisto Terana.”

  Expectation hung as heavy as the scent of eucalyptus, as if he waited to hear something more than just her name.

  “I’m Kate.” Instead of offering to shake his hand, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “The honor is mine, Kate... ” His accent colored the vowel in her name. It had never sounded more beautiful. She reminded herself to breathe.

  When he hesitated for a moment waiting for her to speak, she realized she hadn’t shared her last name as he had. She flipped through a rapid pro and con mental checklist, and decided it couldn’t hurt. Maybe they would meet again.

  “Bradley,” she said.

  A sexy smile curved at the corners of his lips. “I hope this will not be our last meeting.”

  She glanced around the shadowed courtyard, feeling vulnerable, and almost gave in to her first instinct—to run. But she remembered her promise to herself. Be strong. Take action. She lifted her chin and said, “I guess you never know.”

  With a smile that said he had every intention of seeing her again, he tipped his head. “Buenos noches, Kate Bradley.”

  Her heart raced and her palms sweated when she realized he meant to leave. No man made her palms sweat. Ever.

  His gaze held hers for a moment, full of unspoken promises she didn’t understand. Without another word, he walked away.

  Kate willed him to turn toward her one last time. It would be easy to get addicted to the way his gaze caressed her, entrancing her with his full attention. She wet her lips and shook her head slowly, struggling to break the spell.

  A strange man had flirted with her in a dark courtyard. Hello! Huge danger signal for a woman alone.