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

by Mina Carter

  “The timing of Olivia’s disappearance is totally off. Our killer does his thing once a week. He targets a woman, kills her, and dumps her somewhere outdoors where she can be easily found. He doesn’t do home invasion—why would he? Why would he suddenly switch his style of killing?”

  “There is that.” Tom’s fingers formed a steeple and he sighed. “Aye then, I agree. The timing is off, which is why I’m not yet of a mind to put this at our ritual killer’s door.” He shook his head. “As ye pointed out, he hasn’t committed home invasions in the past. Why start now?” He shrugged. “There is also a chance that Olivia—finding her invitation to ye”—he looked at Jethro—“didn’t pan out as she hoped, decided to change her plans and take up with a friend. Probably got lost in her cups, and is sleeping it off at her friend’s place. Could be her sister is over-reacting because of the serial killer. Everyone is spooked.”

  “Ye came here before ye knew about Olivia—tell me why, Tom,” Jethro asked in a pensive tone.

  Chaz looked from Jethro to Tom.

  “I need yer help.”

  After what just transpired, Tom’s answer surprised her, and her mouth dropped.

  “Ah, you need me help? Really? Ye need help from a man who is a person of interest in Olivia’s disappearance?” Jethro’s blue eyes told a story as he judged Tom. “What kind of help?”

  A sheepish grin swept Tom Murphy’s face. “I’d like to set up a surveillance team. The closest I can get to Mulrone Manor is from yer property.”

  “So then say it, man. Ye suspect Jared Mulrone.”

  “Aye, that is the way of it.”

  “And never say ye mean to take Jared Mulrone on all by yer lonesome. He has connections in the government, or has Dublin actually signed off on this?”

  “No—ye be in the right of it. Mulrone has a great deal of political clout, Jet. Dublin doesn’t want any part of this, unless I can give them hard evidence. Right now, all I have is me gut telling me that he is somehow involved.”

  “Was it yer gut that put me in the line of fire just now?” Jethro asked harshly.

  The inspector regarded McBain for a long moment. “It is me job that requires I look into anything and everything. A woman might be—mind now, I am saying might be—missing. Ye and Olivia have been”—he glanced toward Chazma, “Close, and ye might know something her sister doesn’t. Added to that is the fact that she told her sister ye were supposed to come to her place last night.”

  “In her mind, not mine,” Jethro snapped.

  Tom Murphy looked from Chaz to Jethro thoughtfully. “At any rate, what we presently have on the table is this: Olivia’s front door was left wide open. Nothing has been touched or stolen, and Olivia is missing. The way I see it, ye ’ave an alibi ye can’t prove.” He shook his head. “What I believe doesn’t matter. Me job requires that I follow all leads.”

  “Of course it does,” Jethro answered on a hard note. “And as to setting up a team on my property to watch Mulrone, I’ll have to give it some thought. He is me neighbor and we already have something of a grand old separation of minds going on…”

  “Is that the reason, or is it something else?” Tom took his measure and waited.

  “Could be I believe that Mulrone is capable of…using any means to outwit ye and yer men. Any means.” He looked at Tom and then added, “Which makes the bottom line this; if I agree to this, I want in.”

  “Right then—agreed. In fact, I was hoping ye would offer to help us. When will ye be letting me know yer decision, Jet?”

  “Soon.”

  “Soon being?”

  Jethro McBain grinned broadly. “Meaning just that—soon.”

  “Don’t take this lightly, Jet. Ye know what I think of Mulrone.”

  “Aye, ye think him capable of a great deal. But, Tom, he is also capable of wiping the floor with ye. Tread carefully.”

  “Aye.” Tom got up and set his mug in the sink. He turned to smile broadly at Chazma and whispered, “Taking all this in, I see, m’lovely. Good on ye then. Make of it what ye will.”

  “So I shall, Inspector Tom, so I shall,” Chaz said with half a smile.

  The door closed behind him, and Chaz turned to Jethro but before she could speak he had her hand in his and was putting it to his lips. “Thanks, lass…for defending me to Tom.”

  “Did I do that? I was only pointing out the obvious.”

  “Were ye? And the obvious being?”

  “That if you wanted Olivia gone, you sure wouldn’t be pointing fingers in your own direction,” Chaz said lightly. Oddly enough she saw a flicker of hurt shade his blue eyes and guilt nipped at her.

  “Ah, so ye think me capable of causing a young woman deadly harm, but too sly to do it disorderly-like.” His lips were set; a muscle twitched in his firm jaw.

  “No…I well, I don’t really know you, do I, Jethro McBain? How would I know what you are capable of doing or not doing? I know my instincts tell me that isn’t your style, but what do I really know about you?”

  “What would ye like to know about me?”

  “The questions I want to ask, you wouldn’t answer,” Chaz said simply. She picked up their mugs, and rinsed them in the sink. His scrutiny tickled her nerve endings, and she tried to ignore the shivers. She nervously covered the pastries and put them in the fridge, but when she turned she found him moving toward her. Her hands snapped outward as though to ward him off. “Don’t.”

  “What? I was simply bringing the cream—we can’t let it go bad.”

  Did she see a slight smirk on his face? Was there a twinkle in his eyes? Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she started out of the kitchen. He called her back.

  “Chaz?”

  “What?”

  “Come ride with me. I’d like to show ye some of Brionn.”

  She thought a moment, and then smiled. “I’d like that.”

  It didn’t take her long to slip into her riding boots, and zipper up her chaps. She wanted a good hard gallop across the fields. She wanted to release her pent-up insecurities, fears. and the flutters skimming her heart. She wanted a rush of vocal and physical escape.

  Olivia is missing echoed in her head.

  Jethro said that he had not gone over to Olivia’s place, and for some unknown reason she had believed him. Was it because she wanted to believe him? Or was it because every instinct told her he was telling the truth, and her instincts did not lie.

  Logic reared and commanded her to study the situation. Solid, old-fashioned common sense told her to look at what was right before her open eyes. An answer had to be there, just waiting to be discovered.

  Why would Jethro leave the door wide open at Olivia’s place? Why would he go there and harm Olivia, knowing people might know he was going there, including herself? After all, she had been the one to pass on the invitation. It didn’t make sense.

  Mulrone’s first name is Jared. JM! The insignia on the ring she had seen on Dark X’s finger. JM.

  Chaz would bet the insignia ring represented Dark X’s initials. JM—Jared Mulrone? That fits.

  She had made promises to Patrick and Beth, and in her fashion, to Jethro. The promise that she would not venture onto Mulrone property.

  She knew now she wouldn’t be able to keep that promise.

  She needed to have to find a way of meeting Jared Mulrone head-on. That meant all the rules went out the window.

  Dark X already knew she was a white witch, but she had secrets he didn’t know about. She had powers he could not possibly fathom. There were abilities growing inside of her that were ready to fully blossom and she meant to use them all to bring Dark X down.

  Now, what she needed to do was what she had been holding back—her tracking ability.

  And Dark X wouldn’t realize she was on to him until it was too late because, only a Fae could track a Fae’s scent, and she would shield herself with all the Fae inside of her.

  Was she setting herself up for his challenge before she was primed and ready? It was a
chance she was going to have to take. But first, she was going for a ride with Jethro McBain!

  ****

  Jethro fidgeted as he waited for Chaz’s return to the kitchen. His thoughts were a mess, as they always were when he considered what he felt for Chazma.

  She made his insides light up when she entered a room and smiled his way. He had never seen a prettier smile. Her walk had a trademark sway that enchanted him. It was endlessly sensual, inviting, graceful, and gave the promise of what she could do for a man in bed. He wanted to know her—all of her.

  Jethro’s mind pushed him away from his heart. He had to stop thinking about the wee lass. His heart made a fist and landed his mind a left hook. Logic, down for the count.

  Time to confess.

  His thoughts slipped back to the other night. She had surprised him when she had climbed onto his lap. He had not expected that from her. She had surprised him when she lifted up his shirt and discovered his rune tattoos.

  She was a clever wee lass. He knew from the look on her face that she understood the meaning of his tattoos. She knew at once that he must have been involved in dark magic. She didn’t know how much. She didn’t know why and she didn’t know what he really was. If he wanted her to trust him, he would have to trust her.

  He wanted to tell her. Why shouldn’t he tell her? He was a high Druid priest, from an old honorable sect with powers gifted to them by the Fae. His family and ancestors guarded Fae relics and performed the four yearly rituals for over one thousand years.

  He wanted to take her in his arms, and tell her that she belonged with him, that his body craved her—that his soul pined for her…but was the time right? Would she accept who and what he was? He wanted to tell her that he was proud to be a Druid priest, capable of so many things, things that could help her. But timing was everything, and he knew facing this demon was something she had decided to do on her own.

  Aye. No way he was going to allow her to do that.

  She thought she had the mana to manage the beast. Her mother had been killed because she had underestimated her enemy, and he could not allow Chaz to make the same mistake.

  He knew she wouldn’t trust him until he confessed to her. Should he tell her about himself—about his childhood, his life before she walked into it, and turned it upside down?

  Should he?

  Chapter Fifteen

  IT SEEMED CHAZ wasn’t the only one who needed a stiff gallop across the fields. Jethro McBain, astride his big snowy gray, put turf behind him, slicing through air and earth as though he was a man possessed.

  Chaz and her gelding, Jake, were having a time keeping up with McBain, but she opened up her reins, giving her horse his head, and rode with the wind. It was not only exhilarating, it seemed to free so many pent up emotions in her that all at once she released a joyous “Yahoo!”

  Riding like that so reminded her of her youth, took her to a time when all was well with the world—where irritations and uncertainties were not life and death matters. She wanted to hold out her arms and embrace the breeze as she rode her horse. She wanted to slam all other considerations away and off into the distance. Simply put, it was damn good fun.

  McBain pulled up at the west woods of Brionn, and released a wild, free laugh as Chaz came up behind. Her smile swept over him and he gave her a look that made her catch the breath in her throat and hold on.

  He seemed lost in the moment as their eyes locked. He finally commented, “Chaz…ye look as though ye were born on a horse.”

  Absorbed in the wonder of the ride, she regarded him happily, all other considerations put aside. She saw the boy inside the man and wanted to reach out and touch the boy’s cheek.

  Every complicated man has a simple boy pushing to get out. Warmth and affection for him made her laugh. “Sometimes I think I was born on a horse. I love them so. That was great—just what I needed. Does Jake jump, do you know?” she asked, eyeing him mischievously.

  “Jake is Irish. He can do anything!” Jet beamed and started his horse off at a trot, veered off into the woods, and took a narrow trail. He looked only once to see if Chaz followed.

  Before him lay an angled, downed tree hung up on another tree, which set it a good three feet off the ground. Jethro looked back again and asked, “High enough for ye, lass?”

  “If Jake is up to it, so am I,” Chaz answered on a laugh.

  Jethro urged his horse into a slow canter, and, shoulders in place, took the jump beautifully, landing to trot off and stand at a distance to watch her.

  She trotted her horse toward the jump, realized Jake knew exactly what he was doing, and got into position to allow him to do so. She laughed out loud, thrilled in advance, and patted his neck as they took the uneven obstacle with room to spare. Landing, she trotted up to McBain, patting Jake all the while. “I love this horse…he reminds me so much of my old Butch. Steady and sure.”

  “Is that what ye prize—steady and sure—in a horse?” he asked as though he were looking for more from her answer.

  She had been cooing to Jake, but that stopped as she looked at Jethro for a long pregnant moment before replying. “Yes in a horse, but those are prized qualities when you find them in a friend as well.”

  “And a lover—does the same hold true for a lover?”

  Her laugh brimmed with mischief. “Yes, amongst other very important qualities…”

  She could see he had meant to tease her, and her saucy response excited him. His blue pools were locked with her green in a moment of sheer sexual tension. “I shall bloody well remember that, Chazma, m’darlin’.”

  “Why…what are you looking for?” She couldn’t believe her blatant reply. Was that an invitation in her voice? What was she doing?

  His gaze scorched her. His voice was feral when it finally made it out of his mouth. “Whatever it is ye are offering, lass.”

  She felt like a wanton woman when he looked at her so. The heat rushed into her cheeks and the thought occurred to her that never, not once in high school, not once in college had any boy or man caught her interest in such an all-consuming way.

  She attempted to alter the tone of the conversation. “Jethro—I can’t thank you enough for allowing me Jake…and for this wonderful ride. I so needed this.”

  She tried to steer him away from heady conversation—or was it herself she was moving out of reach? Fine. She wasn’t sure she could continue to handle the kind of flirting they had just engaged in. She wasn’t sure she could handle Jethro McBain for that matter. She wondered what he was thinking.

  ****

  Jethro McBain was thinking he was in serious trouble. He wanted to tell her she was the most exquisite thing he had ever seen. He wanted to tell her how he loved watching her astride her horse, her hands quiet and gentle. Her seat was perfection, and her smile took him apart and brought him together whole and better, so much better. He wanted to. Instead he said, “Ye are very welcome, lass.” Somehow his voice sounded strangled even to himself.

  Her gaze was quizzical. “You okay?”

  “Chaz—I want ye to trust me,” he blurted out all at once, looking like a boy and she softened as she waited for more. He continued, “These are…unquiet times at best, and while ye are safe within the boundaries of Brionn land, I believe ye need to rely on someone ye can trust not if, but when times get worse and I think they will. I would like to be that someone for ye.”

  She lowered her gaze for a moment before bringing her eyes up to his, “You would? That is a tremendous responsibility. Why would you want to do that?”

  “Lass, lass…why go there, isn’t it enough that I want to do that—be that for ye?”

  “You want me to trust you, but I don’t even know you.”

  “Then get to know me. Start by asking me about myself, and if I can, I will give ye the answers.”

  He waited while she considered him. He could almost hear her internal debate. Her eyes, her face, spoke volumes, and told him that she thought it was all moving suddenly too fas
t for her. He wanted to reassure her, but he thought it best to stay silent while she worked it out.

  He was surprised when Chaz suddenly gave him a steady look. “Okay. Then it is question-and-answer time. Shall I start small and work myself up to the biggie?”

  He laughed, “Do ye have a ‘biggie’?”

  “Oh—you know I do.” She smiled and then immediately said, “Right. Basics first.”

  “Like what?” Grinning widely, he wondered why the sound of her voice always seemed to shoot through him and create such a fever in his mind. He wondered what it would be like to have her in front of him on his horse. “Right…start the interrogation.” Jethro’s voice emerged as a choked sound.

  “Where were you born, Jethro McBain—in a hospital in Dublin, or here in the old way at Brionn?”

  He chuckled. “Aye, no hospitals for my wee mother. Wouldn’t have reached there in time she said, and she was right. It seemed I wanted out and so I came in no time at all, screaming and hollering at the world.”

  Chaz laughed, and her demeanor eased, more relaxed. She shifted in her saddle, and eyed him thoughtfully. “I can see you as a babe. I can see you curling up your fists with your eyes closed, and your face full of determination as you released a wail from your beautiful baby lips.”

  He watched her hand go to her flat tummy as she bent into a fit of the giggles. He chuckled and said, “Right then, laugh away, woman. This interrogation might just end at that.”

  She swallowed her giggles. “Okay, okay.”

  “Next question.”

  He watched her hungrily as she collected herself, cleared her throat, and shot out the next question. “Right, next…any siblings?”

  Jethro sighed and shook his head. “M’mother died when I was fourteen. She was pregnant but there were complications. She was only thirty-four, which gives the argument for hospitals a great big check. Neither she nor the baby made it. M’da was too grief-stricken to do anything but dive into the darkest depression. He started drinking heavily…got sick”—he paused for a long moment and then attempted to blow it off—“and like Heathcliff, went out into the storm. We lost him a few days after that to pneumonia.”