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

by Laura Kaye

  Ravyn glared at him. “Well then, neither can I.”

  “He sleeps with his mouth open,” Nattie supplied.

  Maybe it was the wine, but she suddenly felt mischievous. “Thank you, Nattie. That bit of information could be very useful one day.”

  Luc’s gaze narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  Rhys chuckled, the sound like a caress against her ears.

  Luc stood. “I see where your loyalties lie, Nattie.”

  The healer hooted with laughter. “Finally, a woman who isn’t blinded by your beauty.” She leaned back in her chair. “It’s my greatest wish to see him married off to a woman who can keep him in line.”

  Ravyn shook her head. “I’d pay a great fortune to watch Luc court a woman who didn’t want to be wooed.”

  “Do you hear this, Rhys?” Luc said. “And they say men are ruthless.”

  Nattie leaned back in her chair. “Sainted Ones, women are far more merciless.”

  Luc shuddered. “You’re scaring me.”

  Nattie laughed. “I scare you? With the way you go through women, I can’t believe you’re not already dead.”

  He held up his hands. “Let’s change the subject.”

  He stood and walked to the other side of the table to sit across from her and Rhys. “So Ravyn, what are these extraordinary powers Rhys talked about?”

  She glanced at Rhys, not knowing how much she should divulge. He gave her a single nod.

  “Fire, mainly. And I know things sometimes without being told.”

  Luc’s eyes lifted. “Like a Tell.”

  She nodded. “And I see ghosts.”

  “Ghosts?” Rhys asked.

  She squared her shoulders. “Yes.”

  “How fascinating,” Nattie said.

  Luc sat forward and folded his hands in front of him. “Are there any ghosts in Alba Haven?

  “Mostly monks. I noticed a few women drifting around the courtyard.”

  “Women?” His expression turned serious. “Are any of them young and beautiful?” He held her gaze. At first she thought he was teasing, but the way he stared at her told her he wasn’t putting her on, almost as if he needed to know. “One with golden brown hair and piercing green eyes?”

  “No.” His body visibly relaxed. She smiled and tried to lighten the heavy mood. “They are mostly matronly and fat. I could introduce you if you’d like.”

  “You have enough problems with the living, Luc. Best you stay away from the dead,” Nattie said.

  He smiled but Ravyn noticed the haunted look that passed across his face. “So,” he said. “Fire, telling, and ghosts; are you a full-blood?”

  “We don’t know,” Rhys said. “She knows nothing of her parentage.”

  “Too bad, more Bringers like her would help our cause,” Luc said.

  Rhys stared at him. “You may get your wish.”

  Luc raised his eyebrows but didn’t reply.

  “I’ve received new information alluding to the possibility of more full-bloods in Inness.” Rhys held up his hand to stop Nattie and Luc’s questions. “All I know is that they may be here. Nothing else.”

  “Who told you this?” Luc said.

  “If you’re asking if it’s reliable, then yes, as reliable as information like this can be,” Rhys said.

  Ravyn wondered why Rhys didn’t tell them about their con-versation with Willa, or about the books. Perhaps he still struggled with the idea of reading his father’s words.

  “What do you plan to do?” Luc asked.

  “Train her mentally and physically. She must learn to defend herself and gain control over her powers,” Rhys said.

  Luc picked at the fig’s skin. “And then what?”

  Ravyn’s gaze cast between the two men. Though Luc smiled, the mood between him and Rhys had shifted and now crackled with tension.

  “We keep her alive,” Rhys said. The two men stared at each other. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

  Luc poked at the fruit with his knife. “You’re not going to like it.”

  Rhys leaned forward and rested against his folded arms. “That’s never stopped you.”

  “You need to take her to the Council.”

  “What?”

  Not backing down, Luc said, “I think it’s in our best interest.”

  Rhys gripped the edge of the table and stood. “How could exposing Ravyn to that group of squabbling bureaucratic buffoons be in our best interest?”

  Luc reclined against his chair. “Two reasons.” His eyes followed Rhys as he paced the stretch of floor behind the chairs. “First, you know how it is for us here. We’re the outcasts, acknowledged but not accepted, included but not wanted. The Council is barely civil and rarely forthcoming with information. If you don’t register Ravyn with them, you will appear not only uncooperative, but openly hostile. We can’t afford to alienate them.”

  The fact that Luc’s words rang true angered Rhys. “So I should parade Ravyn into Illuma Grand and present her as what? A sign of peace?”

  “In a manner.”

  Rhys stopped beside Ravyn. “What manner?”

  “Point number two.” Luc glanced at Nattie, who gave him an encouraging nod. “New reports from Illuma Grand say several Bringers are missing.”

  Rhys slid into his chair and leaned forward. “The Bane?”

  “That’s what our informant suspects, but there were no signs of struggle.” Luc mirrored Rhys’s posture.

  “Then you go and investigate. I won’t risk Ravyn,” Rhys said.

  The fig lay forgotten. “We need her,” Luc said. “If what you say about her powers is true she can help us instead of being a burden.”

  She scowled. “I’m flattered.”

  “You should be,” he said with a wink.

  Indecision gripped Rhys. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t risk losing Ravyn to the Bane. The muscles at the back of his neck tightened. Wasn’t this why he never got involved or grew close to anybody? “She’d be open to attack from the Bane.”

  “Only until we were on the grounds of Illuma Grand,” Luc countered. “Then she’d be safe. I’ll go with you and act as her bodyguard as well.”

  Rhys scoffed. “Safe? With the Council’s politics and a crazed monk after her? You’ve got to be joking.” If this was about him or any other rebel, he wouldn’t hesitate. He slammed his hand down on the table. “No, I won’t put Ravyn at risk.”

  “Excuse me,” she said, holding up her hand. “May I ask a question?”

  Nattie’s expression melted to a warm smile. “Of course, dear.”

  “Who are the Council?”

  Rhys crossed his arms. “They’re a group of mixed-blooded fools who believe the Bane don’t exist.”

  “Don’t believe the Bane are a threat, more like it,” Nattie added.

  “They’re Bringers?” Ravyn asked.

  “If you can call them that.” Rhys fought down years of frustration from trying to deal with the useless group. “They do nothing but argue amongst themselves, never once lifting a finger in the fight against the Bane.”

  Ravyn shook her head. “Surely they can’t deny that the demons are dangerous.” She pressed her hand to the front of her shoulder. “I’ve felt the sting of their talons.”

  “You’d be amazed what their leader, Fromme Bagita, can deny when power is involved,” Rhys said.

  “Hates the fact that Rhys doesn’t pander to him,” Luc said with a smile. “I’ve seen Bagita so angry at Rhys he nearly swallowed his own tongue in a fit of rage.”

  “Which is why I won’t expose Ravyn to him.” The thought of Bagita anywhere near her made his stomach knot. “What purpose would it serve?”

  Ravyn’s hand covered his. “Shouldn’t I have a say in this?”

  No was his first reaction. She didn’t understand what she’d be subjected to. He looked at her and the no died on his tongue. Censure sparkled in her eyes, stopping his argu
ment. She was right. She’d made the decision at the inn to join him and deserved the right to be heard. Heard, not necessarily make the final choice. She was still too naïve for that.

  “Yes, you should have a say,” he said.

  Her hand slipped from his and he immediately missed her touch.

  She looked at Luc. “What did you mean I could help?”

  “We could use your Tell powers.” Luc glanced toward the door as if checking to see who listened. “Jaspar is too old and Siban refuses to leave Alba Haven.”

  Rhys gritted his teeth against his protest. Ravyn’s hand covered his again, but she didn’t look at him.

  “What else?” she said.

  “Maybe you could ferret out clues, something we can’t see. Feel if the missing Bringers struggled.” A sheepish grin crossed his face. “Can you talk to ghosts?”

  “Oh for Saint’s sake,” Rhys barked. “You expect her to run around Illuma Grand, searching for ghosts? The Council will think she’s daft.”

  “Good,” Nattie said. “Better that than trying to use her as a pawn.”

  “It’s all right, Rhys. I’ve spent two decades hiding my powers.” She turned to Luc. “And yes, I can hear the spirits.”

  “This is madness,” Rhys grumbled.

  “Didn’t you warn me about that at the inn?” She gave him a warm smile. “Please, Rhys, I want to help. I’ve spent so much of my life not being a part of the fight.”

  “That wasn’t your fault.” He stood and paced again. “And I’m beginning to believe you were put there for a reason. To keep you safe.” He stopped and peered at her, wanting her to understand. “This isn’t some grand adventure, Ravyn. It’s dangerous.”

  She glared up at him. “And I’m not some delicate flower that will wilt in a fight.”

  Her look of determination told him she meant to go.

  “You don’t understand.” He softened his tone. She didn’t understand the intrigue and scheming that went on at Illuma Grand. “This isn’t a game.”

  “The Council doesn’t scare me.” She leaned back in her chair. “I lived for over two decades with some of the most unpleasant women you will ever meet. I think I can handle a few arrogant Bringers.”

  “That very attitude is why I worry. These aren’t Sisters of the Order. The Council is ruthless and unforgiving, blinded by greed. If they can use you, they will.”

  “Then we use them first,” Luc chimed in. “They’ll never suspect we have ulterior motives. The world revolves around the Council. Use that to gain access to Illuma Grand.”

  “Please, Rhys,” Ravyn said before he could answer. “If not us, who will look for the missing Bringers? We’re Bringers. We don’t run from a fight.”

  She slung his words back at him. Damn her.

  “I’m the lord of Alba Haven and I have final say. You’re not ready.”

  Ravyn glared at him. He knew he was being a hypocrite but he couldn’t put her life at risk.

  “We could get her ready,” Luc offered.

  Rhys pinned him with a stare meant to dispel further ar-guments. Unfortunately, Luc was not so easily intimidated.

  “You could train her—we could train her,” Luc said. “Teach Ravyn what to expect and how to handle herself?”

  Rhys paced beside the table. “I never intended to dangle her in front of the Bane.”

  “I can handle the Bane, and I’m not afraid of the Council.” She stood and blocked his path. “Don’t keep me locked up, Rhys. I’ve lost too many years hidden away behind stone walls.”

  Damn her. How could he demand she stay within the walls of Alba Haven when she’d nearly chosen not to come at all? He saw the determination in her eyes and knew she had no intention of staying cloistered. Damn her for making him care.

  He kicked the chair, swearing under his breath. “I don’t like this plan.” He paced across the room and spun, pointing a finger at Ravyn. “We’ll train first.”

  She nodded vigorously.

  “Until I’m satisfied you’ve gained control over your fire.”

  “Understood,” she said.

  “I say when we leave,” he continued.

  “Fine,” she gritted out.

  Rhys turned and looked at Nattie and Luc. “Understood? I make the rules. I won’t risk her life.”

  “Understood,” Luc said.

  Rhys glared at them. “You’re all a bunch of fools.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rhys waited for her in the kitchen the next morning and they began their day with another wonderful meal from Nattie. Excitement coursed through her. Today she would start her training, the first step to becoming a Bringer. After breaking their fast, they left the main building and walked down a wide walkway she hadn’t seen yesterday.

  Life at the abbey was calm compared to that of Alba Haven. People bustled about Alba, readying supplies for the voyage to the Council and putting up winter stores. Every person seemed to have a job.

  They passed through a large outbuilding that opened at both ends. Large copper vats of dye bubbled over low flames, and different shades of dripping spun yarn draped over long racks that spanned the entire length of the building. A large circle around the vat had been worn deep by a donkey harnessed to each spindle over every vat. As the animal walked, large paddles stirred the dye to keep the color mixed and consistent.

  “Each year the women weave new blankets and repair all the old ones in preparation for the wet, cold winter,” Rhys explained. “Alba Haven, for the most part, is self-sustaining.”

  Their tour ended at the training field. Luc and several other men sparred with a variety of weapons, and three men practiced on an archery range that stretched along the outer wall.

  Ravyn look around. “Don’t women practice?”

  “Some.” Rhys guided her onto the field. “Mainly they do the support work for Alba.”

  His statement grated on her. Why were women expected to help but not fight? “Can they spar if they choose?”

  “The women here are not like you, Ravyn. They don’t have extraordinary power to make up for their lack of strength and skill.”

  “Well, maybe they wouldn’t lack skill if you and your boys trained them.”

  He stopped. “Many have families to care for. We can’t risk losing the mothers as well as the fathers.”

  A valid point, but his condescending tone set her teeth on edge. “Did you ask the women their opinions?”

  He pushed her toward the men, effectively silencing her comments. “The subject has never come up.”

  Ideas churned in her mind. The importance of people to support the army was obvious, but not every female had children. She tucked the information away. Maybe Nattie would have a better perspective on the situation.

  Ravyn spent the rest of the day familiarizing herself with Alba Haven’s armory. Rhys and Luc reenacted several battle situations to demonstrate the proper stance and hand position of each weapon. She also received pointers on deadly circumstances, how to avoid them, and how to escape if she did find herself at a disadvantage. Never once did they approach the subject of her powers. By the end of the day, she was dirty, tired, and starving.

  Nattie took pity on her, feeding and healing her. All the bruises and most of the aches dissolved under her touch.

  From that point on, their lives fell into a pattern, and over the next two weeks, every day passed with the same routine. In the morning, she practiced rudimentary riding, fighting skills, and target practice. With each session, her strength and control grew. In the afternoon she, Rhys, and Luc honed her powers. People gathered to watch and cheer with each task she mastered. As her confidence grew the years of scorn for being different faded. Here, among people who accepted her, she’d found her home.

  But today, things were not perfect. For the tenth time since training had begun that morning, she kicked her horse forward. Like the nine times before, Ravyn reached for the short spear and pulled it from her side holster. And like all the other times, the spik
ed tip tangled in the folds of her skirt, disrupting the flow of her movements, her timing, and her aim. She released the spear.

  She cursed before the weapon even reached the target. “Damn.”

  The spear rocketed past the mark and bounced off the back wall. She cantered her horse around the training grounds. “Damn!”

  “Concentrate,” Rhys barked.

  “I am concentrating. My gown keeps getting in the way.”

  “Learn to compensate for your dress,” Luc chimed in.

  She rolled her eyes. “‘Learn to compensate for your dress.’ ‘Concentrate.’ I’d like to see you put on a skirt and do this.”

  The gathered crowd remained silent. Most of residents had quickly learned the safest place on the training ground was behind Ravyn. More than one unsuspecting spectator had received an up-close look at the tip of her short spears. As she rounded the bend, Ravyn saw Nattie step out on the field.

  “That’s enough for now,” Nattie yelled. She waved Ravyn to her. “Ravyn is coming to town with me.”

  Ravyn pulled her horse to a stop. She still had hours of instruction, and Nattie knew it.

  “We’re in the middle of training,” Rhys said, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

  “Then you continue to train.” The healer glared, challenging Rhys to argue. “I’m taking Ravyn with me.”

  “How can we train her if she’s not here?” Luc asked.

  The gold bangles at Nattie’s wrists jangled as she shrugged and held up her hands. “How should I know? I’m just a humble Redeemer. You two are the great Bringer warriors. Figure it out. Why don’t the two of you beat on each other for a while? You used to spend hours doing it when you were younger.”

  Ravyn caught snatches of the men’s complaints, something about being a serious warrior and hard work, but they didn’t openly argue. Ravyn couldn’t blame them. When Nattie decided she wanted something, there was no use in disagreeing. The memory of the woman’s ruthless healing was still burned into Ravyn’s mind.

  She slipped from her horse and handed the reins to one of the grooms. “What are we doing?”

  “Shhhh,” Nattie hissed and smiled.