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

by Laura Kaye

  “I don’t understand.”

  “When you need to, you will become a phoenix.”

  She backed closer to the mirror, examining every inch of her new brand. “But that’s impossible.”

  “Trust me—it is not impossible.”

  Something in his voice drew her attention. His arms were crossed and legs in a wide stance, his defensive pose. “Do you…your dragon…can you…change?”

  He nodded.

  She shook her head, trying to grasp the full scope of her lover.

  His gaze narrowed, as if he expected her worst reaction.

  “Rhys.”

  He tensed at her tone.

  “That’s amazing.”

  His stance relaxed, and he lowered his arms to his side. “Really?”

  “Yes.” She turned her attention back to the mirror. “I seem to be afflicted with the same malady. This is truly amazing. I can’t wait to transform and…oh.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m going to have to fly.” Her stomach churned. “I don’t like heights.”

  Rhys chuckled. “You’ll do fine. I’ll teach you everything I know.”

  Again, it was like seeing him for the first time. “We could fly together.”

  “Yes.”

  She hesitated. “Could you give me a ride?”

  His deep chuckle rumbled and the world seemed right again. “Whenever you want.”

  Ravyn liked the way he said that, sexy and loaded with innuendos. The journal rested loosely in his hands. She pointed to the book. “Did you read your father’s diary?”

  He nodded. “Most of it.”

  “He loved you and your mother very much.”

  “I see this now. I think I always knew, but guilt plays strange tricks on a person’s mind.”

  She walked to him and twined her fingers with his. “You couldn’t have stopped Vile from killing your parents.” Her voice cracked. “He said he killed mine also.”

  He held her gaze. “Maybe he lied.”

  She shook her head. “I pray he has—for all our sakes.” She paused. “Vile said my father was King Janus.”

  Rhys’s eyes grew wide. “King Janus?”

  She nodded.

  “Another blow to the Bringers if he is dead.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

  A weak smile was the best she could muster. The thought of never seeing her parents upset her. Odd, how losing someone she never knew could still hurt so deeply.

  Rhys sobered. “I’ll make him pay. I’ll hunt Vile down myself and bury my father’s dagger so far inside him there’s no possibility of him resurrecting.”

  Plans and ideas formed in her mind. “Rhys, if the dagger exists and it is an immortal weapon…”

  “Then the legend of the immortal arsenal is probably true,” he finished.

  “We need to find them.” Her mind raced with the possibilities. “Finding the weapons could turn the tide against the Bane.”

  “Yes, but our first order of business is to figure out what we know and decide who we can trust.”

  She perched on the edge of her bed. The road before them branched in many directions. “I only wish we’d known about the dagger sooner.”

  “There are a lot of things I wished I’d known or done sooner.” He sat beside her and ran a finger along her jaw.

  Warmth spread through her. She captured his hand and kissed his fingers. “We’ve been given a second chance. No regrets.”

  He smiled and stroked her cheek. “No regrets.”

  “How did you find me? Even as a dragon, that wouldn’t have been possible.”

  “Icarus.”

  Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

  “He helped me find you and even helped us escape.”

  She shook her head. “Why?”

  “Greed. He wants the Bane throne.”

  She sneered. “He is the worst of them all, using whatever means necessary to get what he wants. I hate him.”

  Rhys didn’t contradict her, only stared at her. Finally, he said, “Powell is dead.”

  Ravyn blinked, waiting for some emotion—anger, elation, pity. But she felt nothing but numbness. “Who killed him?”

  “A demon, I think. We found him dead in the clearing from where you’d been taken by Icarus.”

  He watched her. Should she be angry that she hadn’t delivered the killing blow to Powell and avenged Angela? “Good,” she said looking at Rhys. “It’s a fitting death for him. Poetic in a way.”

  “Yes, killed by the beast he served. So you’re not angry that you won’t get your revenge?” he said.

  She shook her head. “Life is a sacred gift given by the Universe. I am not so prideful as to feel cheated because I wasn’t the one allowed to take his life, even if I hated him. Being spared such a gruesome task is a blessing, not a slight.”

  “Not all in your position would feel the same way.”

  “Perhaps I’m not the cold-blooded killer I imagine myself to be after all.”

  “Again, not a bad trait.”

  Silence stretched between them. Where would they go from here? Ravyn took a deep breath and exhaled. She was safe. Rhys was safe. And Powell was dead. “Now what?”

  A lascivious smile crept across his face. He eased her back onto the bed. “Well, first I’m going to make love to you.”

  Ravyn smiled as her pillow cradled her head. “Yes?”

  With achingly slow movements, he covered her body with his. Ravyn spread her legs to accommodate him, the discomfort from her back evaporating. “And then I’ll probably make love to you again.”

  “So far I like this plan very much.” She lifted her head and gave him a languishing kiss.

  “I’ll need to feed you so you keep up your strength.” He nibbled her earlobe. “Because I plan on making love to you several more times before I let you get dressed.”

  “You’re a very good strategist.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and rubbed against his growing erection. “And when we’ve sated ourselves? Then what shall we do? Rally the rebel forces? Make a pact with the Council? Start searching for the immortal weapons?”

  Rhys cupped her breast and rubbed her aching nipple. “I have something more personal in mind.”

  She moaned and arched against his talented fingers. “And what would that be?”

  He slid his hand down her stomach and pressed his fingers between her legs. Nuzzling her neck he whispered, “I think it’s time Luc embraced his destiny.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “He needs to die.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes. “Mmmm, I’ll let you use my dagger.”

  Did you love Rhys? Check out the rest of Boone Brux’s Bringer and the Bane series!

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to acknowledge my fabulous editors, Libby and Kerry. Both of you deserve Editor of the Year awards. Thank you is not enough. I’d also like to thank Liz Pelletier and Heather Howland for believing in me enough to give me several chances. You guys rock. And thanks to Becky, Liz P’s secret operative, who kept me on track and busted my butt with edits. Last, but certainly not least, I want to thank the women from my Alaska Romance Writers chapter, especially the Critwhores, who lovingly rip my stories to shreds and help me piece them back together. I couldn’t do it without you guys.

  About the Author

  Boone lives in rugged Alaska with her vampire-pirate husband and her twin daughters, each of whom possesses the superpower to destroy a room with a single pass. She began writing in a desperate attempt to counteract the in-stereo babbling from her toddlers and to fill the lack of adult conversation in her day. After seventeen years in bush Alaska, Boone and her family made the big move to civilization, where she joined the local chapter of Romance Writers of America and realized she knew nothing about writing. Steeped in the paranormal world, Boone has a particular love for demons, good, bad, or otherwise.

  Find out more
at www.boonebrux.com.

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  Get lost in the Bringer and the Bane novels…

  Kiss of the Betrayer

  Mix-blooded Bringer Luc Le Daun lives a life of danger, risking all and committing to no one. Seeking revenge on Luc has been all Jade Kendell has thought about for years. When her plan goes awry and she’s brought into the Bringers’ fold, she fights to keep her own dark secret hidden. Brought together by their pasts, Jade and Luc plunge into the dangerous world of the demon Bane. The price they must pay threatens their fragile bond, especially when their slightest misstep could give the Demon King exactly what he needs to annihilate the Bringers…

  Chain of Illusions

  Also by Boone Brux

  Suddenly Beautiful

  When he falls, only one woman can save him...

  Kidnapped by humans and raised in a research facility, Jett was taught to believe his own race of demons are insidious and violent. But a friendship with the archangel Raphael shatters Jett’s reality. Caught between two worlds, his first months of freedom find him lingering on the fringes of his home colony, Sanctuary.

  When the human who kidnapped Jett captures another demon youth from Sanctuary, Jett learns of the real plan—to steal Raphael’s archangel twin grandchildren. Jett want to bring his captor to justice, but he must overcome the lies from his past and join forces with the demon Guardians, and the demon child’s older sister, Lexine.

  Irresistible attraction grows between Jett and Lexine, but but Lexine has prophetic dreams of being mated to a traitor. If Jett is goes through the all consuming process of becoming a Guardian to the archangels, he may forfeit any chance they have at being together.

  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 Sarah Gilman. 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 Kaleen Harding

  Cover design by Libby Murphy

  Print ISBN 978-1-62266-896-0

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-62266-895-3

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition September 2013

  To all who embrace their slightly demonic side.

  Dear Reader

  In paranormal romance you’ll find many alpha heroes and many dark worlds. I’m sure you love them as much as I do. Here you’ll meet Jett from Deep in Crimson, a tortured alpha hero of my Return to Sanctuary series. But he is so much more than that.

  I invite you into a world where fallen archangels are hunted by poachers for their feathers, and demons, like Jett, protect them. Both hated by humans, the fallen archangels and the demons join forces for survival. I’ve always loved the idea of taking the “monsters” of other stories and making them the heroes and heroines.

  The love story in the first Return to Sanctuary book, Out in Blue, shows us a human woman who was raised by a demon, and a half-human half-archangel hero. The romance is fast-paced and focuses on the idea that love can and does happen fast and hard when the right two people come together, as it did for me and my husband—the first man I ever kissed and the first and only man I’ve ever loved. I am a believer in true love and these particular characters are the embodiment of that.

  The love story in the second book, Deep in Crimson, focuses on free will. Both Jett and his demon heroine struggled with the driving forces in their own lives, which never seem to be themselves. I examined the emotional effects of being stuck fulfilling a prophecy, what drives us to want the things we want, how fighting hard for one thing can allow something better to sneak up behind us, and how sometimes we miss that the most important thing was right in front us the whole time.

  Happy reading,

  Sarah Gilman

  Chapter One

  Two unusual scents carried on the dwindling thunder-storm’s breeze: humans and demon blood. Jett paused, his muscles tense, his mouth dry.

  Nothing good ever came of the scent of blood in the air.

  Nothing good ever came of the presence of humans.

  Nothing good, sure as fuck, ever came of those two things together.

  He abandoned the two lifeless ducks, which he’d caught by hand, next to the fire pit. Breathing deeply through his nose, he circled the area in the forest he considered his.

  Heavy rain had washed away most scents except for sodden earth. The breeze blew from the direction of Vermont’s demon colony, Sanctuary, in the valley below. If he made his way down the mountain, he’d find a bloody scene—he sniffed the air again—less than a half mile away.

  An attack on Sanctuary by humans? He turned his back on the breeze and shut his eyes, his heart rate resisting his mental demand for it to slow. An attack was none of his business as long as the humans stayed the hell away from him and away from the archangels—what little hope there was of that.

  He paced. Hostility toward any demon colony usually focused on the archangels, whom the demons protected. Religious zealots throughout human communities viewed both demons and the “fallen” archangels as evil and wanted both species killed, but archangel feathers sold to the highest bidders and dedicated collectors.

  The result: poachers, and an ever-dwindling archangel population. A few countries had given land to demons to form colonies, similar to Native American reservations. The demons took in the archangels and offered protection from poachers, and, in exchange, the archangels shared their various skills, such as healing abilities. Despite the sovereignty of the colonies and the Guardians who protected the borders and the residents, attacks still came and blood still stained the ground from time to time.

  Jett had stayed in this place, on the fringes of the demon colony in northeastern Vermont, for one reason—to make sure the archangel Raphael and his son, Wren, weren’t betrayed again by the demon Guardians who were supposed to protect them.

  At first, Jett couldn’t comprehend why Raphael had wanted to return, why the archangel was willing to trust again. But it had turned out his personal Guardian, Lark, hadn’t been the one who murdered Raphael’s mate, attacked Wren, and imprisoned Raphael. Lark’s body had been stolen for eighteen years by the revenge-bent spirit of Thornton Bailey, a poacher Wren had killed.

  The same poacher that Jett had been forced to work for.

  He knelt by the stream, washed his hands, and drank. The thunderstorm—still rumbling in the distance, flashes of light illuminating the cloud-and-night-shrouded Green Mountains—had soaked him and plastered his hair to his neck. He stripped, hung his clothes on a rack he’d made from tree branches, and ignited demon fire on his skin, drying himself and shunning the midnight chill.

  Another gust carried the scents again. Only two human scents, but a lot of demon blood. Dressing in his second set of clothes, well-worn jeans and a long-sleeve black shirt he’d stolen from human campers, he repeated his mantra in his mind.

  Not my business. I don’t give a shit.

  The demon in charge of the colony, Vin, left him a note not long after he’d arrived, warning that unless he came directly to the Guardians first, he needed to stay away from all of Sanctuary’s citizens, or he’d be viewed as a threat. Suspicious fuckers didn’t trust him
. Who could blame them? He used to work for poachers—even though it had been against his will.

  So, whatever this was, it wasn’t Jett’s problem. The Guardians protected Sanctuary, not him.

  He wanted to check on the archangels, Vin be damned, but they rarely flew in the middle of the night and only left the house at such hours to socialize in the demon village. Jett couldn’t get close enough to see into the houses. He’d have to wait—the archangels always flew at dawn. If they failed to show, he’d act.

  He hated waiting, even though that was all he ever did anymore, in his self-made purgatory on top of this mountain. He cleaned his twin hunting knives, the only things he’d taken with him when he’d fled Raphael’s former prison, and returned them to sheaths on his thighs.

  The breeze blew again and he breathed in deeply, catching the scent of blood, stronger this time.

  A month ago, Jett had passed through the woods near three demon boys at play. It had appeared one of them was pretending to be Jett by jumping out from behind trees, covered in mud, making his friends run and scream.

  Little bastards. What did they think he was, some sort of boogeyman?

  One of those boys…was that scent in the air his blood? He’d been eight, ten years old at most.

  “Shit.”

  He was a prick and he knew it, but he wasn’t the sort of prick to ignore a hurt kid. A memory surfaced from his own childhood, of waking from a healing fever on blood-soaked sheets because the humans, who’d whipped him and cut him to study his healing abilities, had simply locked him in the observation room to recover alone.

  Muttering more curses, he grabbed his jacket, then made his way through the trees and down the steeply inclined mountainside. He broke into a run, suddenly furious with himself for not acting immediately. It wasn’t his business—the Guardians protected the colony. But they hadn’t protected Jett the day he’d been kidnapped, so many years ago.