Wicked After Dark: 20 Steamy Paranormal Tales of Dragons, Vampires, Werewolves, Shifters, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More

by Mina Carter

  Libby inhaled deeply. “Don’t use your empathy powers on me, little sis. You know I don’t like that.” She stood up and placed the receiver on the phone’s cradle. “I just need a little time to wrap my head around this.”

  As easily as one would slip on a comfortable pair of jeans she found her friend, logic, and allowed that side of her mind to take over. Being able to compartmentalize emotions and logic was important when you had an empath for a little sister. Her mind started going through options. They needed a second, third, maybe even a fourth opinion. She didn’t know this doctor. How invested was she in curing their mother? Tonight, she’d formulate a plan, and tomorrow they’d take action, but first she needed to clear her mind, and she knew exactly how to do that. The bath she ran before the phone rang was calling her name.

  “I’m sorry you had to find out that way.” Abigail offered an uneasy smile as she stood up and went to put away the groceries.

  Libby breathed in deeply. “Someone had to tell me. I just wish it had been you or mother. I don’t like that doctor. She seems too callous to me.”

  “Mother likes her. I suppose that’s what matters.” Abigail put the milk in the fridge.

  “I need a little time to organize my thoughts. Perhaps we can talk about it tonight and design a plan?” Libby asked.

  Abigail examined her for a moment. Then after a contemplative pause, nodded.

  “Good. I’ll be down in a few hours.” She headed to the stairs.

  “Okay. Libs?”

  Libby’s foot froze on the bottom step. “Yes?”

  “I love you, and I’m really glad you’re home.” Without another word, Abigail went back to unpacking the groceries.

  Libby placed a hand over her heart. She could literally feel it swell in her chest. Abigail always knew the right things to say. She forced down the lump of emotion that lodged in her throat and responded, “Me, too,” before she headed up the stairs.

  Thankfully, the water was still warm. Ever since she was a little girl she would put scalding water in the tub, and wait for it to get to a decent temperature before she climbed into the bath. Today it was pretty close to perfect. She turned on the 80s and 90s soft rock radio station she listened to growing up and submersed herself into the bubbly water. The liquid warmth soothed her aching body, and the music helped clear her mind as she leaned back allowing herself to relax.

  Enjoy the moment, she reminded her conscious mind. Soaking in water was her preparation before she went on her missions with the Order. It was a ritual she did for herself, a moment of peace before she engaged in actions that usually wound up with someone’s death. It seemed odd to her team; Jerrell, Red, Olivia and Sebastian. But water was her element. She was, after all, a water witch. Communing with her element before going into battle made sense to her just like she was sure if Abigail was called to duty she’d connect with the fire element as that was her source of power.

  The connection made her stronger, and in some peculiar way, it allowed her to forgive herself of the crimes she knew she would have to commit in order to survive. Water, just like logic, was her best friend. There was no place she felt safer.

  She closed her eyes and allowed the liquid to permeate her entire body. She lowered her head under water, feeling the silky embrace and the refreshing strength when she broke through the surface and came up for air.

  Libby opened her eyes and panic seized her. “What the hell? How did you get in here?” She looked around for a towel to cover up. “Where is my sister?”

  “Shhh, this will only hurt for a moment,…” An unrecognized man with dark hair and eyes spoke in soft tones, “…and if you don’t fight, we’ll spare your sister’s life.”

  Libby felt fear wrap around her heart and squeeze. “What are you--”

  Suddenly the air, with the force of a two ton truck, shoved her under the water’s surface. She struggled against the invisible force that held her under, each jerk causing water to seep into her body, into her lungs, burning her from the inside out as her body was deprived of the oxygen needed to survive.

  Her oldest friend, the element of water, betrayed her as she gasped beneath the surface, and her lungs filled with the burning liquid. Fight, Libby Fight! Her mind screamed as she struggled to pull the invisible force from her shoulders. It was immovable. Her body jerked. Magic! She screamed in her mind, Why are you betraying me now? She tried to control the liquid that was painfully killing her, but it was like her power had been shut off. No matter how hard she tried to conjure a spell that would save her life, she couldn’t manipulate anything.

  Panic took over. Her natural fight-or-flight instinct tried to engage. She attempted to sweep away the fear so she could manipulate the water, fight back. But as she fought for her life against her element, her strength waned. Water splashed around the tub, and the music volume went up. Even if she wanted to scream for help, even if she could, Abigail wouldn’t hear her.

  She struggled more even as logic told her she was losing this fight. Her last thought as darkness took over was how her two best friends, water and logic, had betrayed her.

  Chapter Two

  Being the second born to a strong alpha family, he grew up prepared, always alert and ready for the strike, but nothing, not even his time as an Order agent prepared him for his homecoming. Jerrell Jackson clapped his best friend, Max Brady, on the back and said, "Thanks for the help, old friend.” He looked around and breathed in the crisp mountain air. He missed Rainier, the strong pine scent, the cool breeze, and midday showers that kept the landscape vibrantly green and lush. The rough terrain and thick tree lines against the back drop of the gigantic mountainous land mass was just icing on the proverbial cake. He was thrilled to be home, happy to spend time with his friends, and excited to present his mate to the pack in a few days. When he was a young wolf cub, he left home and enlisted, fighting for his country, his people, his freedom, and now he returned home as the alpha – a job he never intended to take, but his older brother’s untimely death passed the torch to him, and gave him the excuse he needed to end his service to the Gods.

  He arrived earlier that day to a mess. The entire family farm needed an overhaul. When Jordan got sick, the place went to hell in a handbasket, literally. The trees, grass, and shrubs were overgrown. The house was trashed inside and out. Shutters were barely hanging on for dear life on the hinges. The garden was overrun with weeds. Rodents moved in and made nests. The rainfall damaged the roof, and the sheet rock had fallen from the ceiling. Insulation hung from the rafters, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. It was not the home he intended to bring his new bride to, but after a day of hard work, thanks to Max’s help, they’d made quite a dent in the repairs.

  Max, the one man he knew as well as himself, or he used to know, came over to help him set everything up for the ceremony that coming weekend. When it was time to call it a day they rewarded themselves with a few beers, barbequed some venison, and talked about the days before he became a soldier.

  Just as Jerrell had filled out, so did Max. Gone were the lanky teenagers that grew faster than their bodies could support, replaced by men that could pass for professional football players. Muscles bulged from biceps, and pecks pulled their sweaty t-shirts tight against their frames. The cool breeze that signified night was rolling in dried the perspiration from their bodies and allowed them to cool down. They both had black hair and hazel eyes. They could be easily be brothers. The only real difference between them was Max’s golden tan skin and Jerrell’s darker skin tone.

  The Jackson family had been the local pack alphas for the last three generations. He was the last of the familial line and planned to do his family name justice. He would bring home his mate, they’d marry and start a family. He needed heirs. Until his own blood was duplicated into new wolves, the only person he could pass his alpha seat to was Max.

  “So, tell me about your girl.” Max sipped his long neck beer.

  “Red? She’s glorious. Strong, independent, fea
rless, protective, and very generous.” He grinned as he flipped the freshly butchered meat on the grill, and watched as the flames burst up through the bars and wrapped themselves around the steaks in protest from the juices that seeped into the orange tentacles of the fire. The sweet mesquite smell flooded his nostrils, and a feeling of calm washed over him like a wave. He was home and he was content.

  They ate dinner and polished off the twenty-four pack of beer as they reminisced about growing up in Washington State. It took a lot to get a wolf drunk thanks to their fast metabolism, but they were giving it the old college try. He’d forgotten so many of the fond memories that had bonded them as children and teens, and was happy to take a step back in time to remember why they were brothers even without sharing blood. Sometimes in life, you had the opportunity to pick your family, and in this case, he did. They may not share parents, but they were closer than Jerrell ever was to his real brother.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” Max told him as he hugged him firmly before getting into his Chevy truck to leave. He rolled down the window, “and I can’t wait to meet your girl. She sounds a perfect fit for you, my old friend.” He grinned.

  “That she is. Are you okay to drive?” Jerrell asked concerned.

  Max laughed. “I stopped drinking hours ago, Jerrell. You’re the one that shouldn’t operate machinery. Besides, I live on the other side of this property so I won’t even be on the roads.”

  “I'd feel better if you walked, friend.”

  Max nodded and jumped out of the cab of the truck. "Fine. It's not a good idea to argue with your alpha I was always told." He chuckled and handed Jerrell the keys.

  Jerrell took them and shoved them in his pocket. As he watched, Max began his short trek to the ranch- hand abode across the property. It was odd being home again, and yet it was reassuring. A noise in the distance caught Jerrell's attention and he turned around to his backyard trying to focus on what sounded like a cry. His werewolf ears caught it, but it was so fast, his mind couldn’t process what it was. He focused past the grill which bordered the tree line. The sound came again. This time he recognized it. The howl a wolf made when he was in pain. The full moon was at least a week off. Most wolves didn’t change outside of the three day cycle of the full moon.

  It took a lot for them to make that change, and it put themselves, and the pack, in jeopardy. No rogues would dare roam this close to the pack’s primary compound which meant the wolf was in pain, and he or she changed to help heal a wound faster. A fact that screamed danger in his mind. He raced toward the wooded area of the compound, adrenaline surging through his body, flushing the residue of alcohol out of his system.

  This was his pack and he wasn’t going to let his charges get hurt, not on his watch. The sliver of the moon did little to light the darkened, forested area, but his senses as alpha were stronger than most wolves. They were heightened and allowed him to see fairly well in the space with no light.

  The howl came from the left. He spun and charged toward the sound. His eyes spotted the beta female licking her wounded belly. Blood flavored the air. She was mortally wounded. Even with the change, he feared she would not survive the night. The breeze carried with it another scent, silver.

  Before his mind could process the word trap, he was ambushed by two men in the dark wearing hooded cloaks. Their scent was human, but more. They were preternaturals at the very least, but what or who they were was undetectable to him. It was like their signature was fainter than living beings.

  Both carried silver blades. One swung the weapon which he craftily dodged. The assailants probably didn’t know he was an intelligent agent. It meant he had the upper hand which he was going to need since he had no weapon himself, and his senses were dulled slightly with the remnants of the alcohol he drank.

  He ducked another swing. The weaker of the two, the one who hadn’t been attacking watched as his partner continued the assault. On the next jab and miss, Jerrell knocked the dagger out of his attacker’s hand. They both watched as it flew across the small meadow they found themselves in and sunk into the ground.

  Jerrell was no fool. He made a run for the weapon, but his legs betrayed him. They froze to the ground as though super glue held them in place. He tried to move, but the rest of his body went rigid until the only thing that he could move was his eyes. His breathing went shallow as panic rang in his mind. The wolf that shared his body scratched the surface of his skin itching to get out, but was unable to make the transformation.

  “This will go easier if you don’t fight it.” A man’s voice echoed from behind him as his figure circled around Jerrell, bending to pick up the deadly dagger.

  The only thing Jerrell could make out on the man was dark hair and dark eyes. His voice was almost sing-song indicating he was enjoying this far more than anyone should. The smell of him was tainted with decomposition and Jerrell wondered if he was possessed.

  He tried to speak, but it was like his lips had been sown together.

  The evil, glistening blade picked up what little light was available as the unknown killer slid the sharp edge across Jerrell’s cheek. It burned as it sliced his skin as easily as butter.

  “You see, in this moment you know you’re going to die. I wonder, would you tell me what is going through your mind?” He flicked his free hand and Jerrell could move his lips.

  “Who are you? What do you want? Why are you--”

  The murderer flicked his wrist again and Jerrell couldn’t speak. He couldn’t finish asking him why. “I didn’t think so. You alpha wolves always think you’re invincible. I suppose you think I’m going to spare you?” The man grinned.

  The injured wolf howled behind them. The killer cursed, and he walked over to her and slit her throat as easily as one would open mail with a letter opener. The blood that poured from her neck took the light of her essence with her.

  Jerrell closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see the life bleed out of her. In that moment, if he had any doubt, it was gone. This man was going to kill him. He struggled against the paralysis that took control of his body.

  “Christ, Craig. Quit playing with the man and put him out of his misery.” The smaller man who stood and watched everything snapped.

  Jerrell swore he saw pity in his face when he looked back at the dead wolf.

  “What are your last thoughts, wolf?” Craig asked.

  Jerrell couldn’t stop his mind from reeling. He wished he could hold Red one more time in his arms. To kiss her Cupid’s-bow lips, make love to her. He wished they had started their family. Now it was too late. His family line died with him. He’d failed everyone.

  As the thoughts raced through him, he continued to try and struggle against the magical hold that kept him immobile.

  The killer, Craig, grinned coldly at his prey. “That’s what I wanted. Red. Don’t worry, Wolf. We’ll find her next and she’ll join you in the afterlife shortly.”

  Hope sprung a leak in his soul when he picked up a scent on the night breeze one moment, and the next Max, in human form, came out of the tree line and charged them.

  Craig smiled wickedly as he held up one hand and Max froze. Immobile just like Jerrell. “Well, now this is a treat. It looks like I won’t be doing the killing after all.” He walked over to Max and placed the dagger in his hand. “You will.”

  Craig raised his hands like a puppet master, and Max, awkwardly as a wooden marionette would do, made his way across the clearing and stopped right in front of Jerrell. The hand with the dagger raised high in the sky and aimed toward Jerrell’s heart. Terror and remorse poured from his eyes, but he couldn’t speak. The only evidence that he was not in control was the tears that flowed from his eyes as the dagger came down and pierced Jerrell’s heart. The puppet master pushed the knife deeper and deeper, and Max was forced to watch as he killed his best friend.

  Craig cackled in the background, and the other man turned his head, unable to watch the nightmare his friend was creating as the light in Jerrell’s eye
s dimmed. The last words he heard were from his real killer. “Put them both in the wood chipper, and in the morning, when the crew comes to work, you’ll be the one to turn it on and watch as he becomes fertilizer for the ground.

  Chapter Three

  Being psychic carries a heavy responsibility, and he knew he failed miserably at being accountable to anything. It was why he joined the secret government project. He hoped they would help him do good with his gift, but instead, they used him to perform heinous acts. Just as his father had done when he was a child, now the military did to him as an adult. But Craig had crossed the line. He wouldn’t help the monster anymore. He was done.

  “You’re far from done, my friend.” Craig’s Cheshire cat grin suited him well as he leaned easily against Davis’ door frame.

  Davis fought the urge to push his smug face into horse manure, fisted his hands at his sides, and worked to put up the wall in his mind that would block his thoughts from his intruder.

  “Are you ready, Davis? We have another mission to complete.” Craig patted Davis on the shoulder after walking into the dorm room, uninvited. “Cheer up, we’re about to reunite mates in the afterlife.”

  “No more.” His tone barely passed the decibel of a whisper.

  “What was that?” Craig leaned in close, his breath hot on Davis’ neck. “I know you’re not backing out on our commitment to our victim are you?”

  Davis slammed his hands on the table. He’d been pushed over the edge and was finished. “Your commitment to your victim. I’m simply the conduit.” He turned steely eyes on the dark haired, dark eyed man. “You’re the killer.”

  Craig laughed. “You’re as guilty as I am. I haven’t seen you once try and stop me.”

  Davis shook his head, moisture coated his eyes. “What you did to that man, how you made him kill his friend…And the wood chipper!” Davis shuddered. “It was sadistic and wrong on so many levels.”