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

by Mina Carter

  With a quick move, he shifted her onto her knees and he positioned himself so he held both her breasts from behind as he bent her over and allowed his throbbing cock to bounce against her round butt.

  To Jethro’s delight, she pushed back against him. Using his fingers, he kneaded her nipples until she moaned. He brought them together with one fluid thrust. Her tight, wet heat gripped his shaft and he was lost in his own brand of magic. Her gasp of pleasure and release drove them both to climax.

  Around midnight, Jethro prowled down to the kitchen to heat up the dinner Chaz had started earlier that evening. He spooned it all into one dish. He had the absurd desire to eat from her plate. He wanted to feed her from a fork they would share.

  This woman did things to his insides that made him so much more than he ever thought he could be. She opened him up and poured herself right in. When he touched her, there was nothing else, no one else, and no place else.

  Control had always been crucial to his life. Control over himself, his work, and his magic, but this…this wee lass took the wheel and she was his driving force. When had it all changed? How had it happened? He sighed to himself. Alpha male brought to his knees by a white witch—nearly drooling for her recognition, her touch, her laughter…bloody hell, all of her!

  He stalked upstairs telling himself that he would rein himself in, certainly not allow her to know just how much power she had over his heart. And then, there she was, stretched out in his bed, one shapely leg out of the covers as she turned to smile up at him, her gold hair falling all about her dainty shoulders, sliding over her full breasts.

  “Food! You wonderful man.”

  She watched him adoringly as he grimaced at himself, and told her that he felt he was a huge sap. Happiness as he’d never before experienced made him grin, and he didn’t care.

  He was lost. She owned him.

  ****

  Chaz lay on her side in his arms. Her butt pressed into him. His hand lingered on her breast even as he slept.

  Her inner being was no longer in turmoil. She would never be who she had been. The dark Chaz that had been digging and clawing her way to the surface had arrived and instead of turning her, dark, they had melded and become something better. They were one: stronger, surer, and complete and all because of Jethro McBain, a high Druid priest with magic in his soul, his touch, and his words, loved her.

  The darkness inside of her had embraced the light, and accepted all it had to offer. Even humans were made of dark and light, and for most it was purely a matter of choices that define who they become.

  Dark, wild, and savage had taken over her body, but light had filled her mind. Light filled it still. She stirred into wakefulness, and moaned pleasurably as she snuggled back into him. He made a heated sound and whispered, “Lass, I fear ye won’t be able to walk if I have at ye again.”

  She giggled. “I’ll chance it.” Their lovemaking had been turbulent, erotic, and all-consuming. He awakened her libido and taught it how to respond to his touch. They traveled to all the places she wanted to go with him in ways she had never dreamed possible.

  He nipped her neckline down to her shoulder and his fingers found her nipple and began to tease.

  RingRingRing

  “Oh no…who can that be?” Chaz’s eyebrows drew together. Dark Chaz growled inside her, wishing the phone in a million pieces. All at once, knowledge of the caller’s identity and a sense of danger made her put out a hand to stop him from taking up the phone. “No, don’t. Jet—don’t answer.”

  He kissed her fingers. “I must, love. I believe it is Tom.”

  She said nothing as she watched him pick up the receiver and say, “Aye...?”

  ****

  Tom’s frantic voice pulled Jethro away from the moment. “I know I don’t have to explain to ye how I know some of the things I know, Jet. So I will just tell ye…I need ye now. We need a diversion, and we need it immediately. We haven’t been able to pick up Olivia’s moving body on the monitor.” Silence reigned for a few long moments before Tom continued. “I was beginning to think the poor lass gone. Aye, that I was, but the saints preserve us, now, just now, the monitor picked up a still form. That it did, just barely warm enough to be seen—but warm enough, and only after we saw Jared enter the basement chamber did she make a movement. Ah Jet, she must be drugged for her movement was small, but enough to give us cause to go in. I think he is going to harm her…and soon. Maybe not kill her yet…I just don’t know, but we need to go in.”

  Jethro was up for it. Even if Olivia had been a stranger, he would have done whatever it took to go in a save the poor woman. Olivia and he had a brief romantic entanglement of sorts, in addition to their business agreement, and the thought of Jared torturing her fired him up. Jethro couldn’t allow her to come to harm if he could stop it. “I’m on me way. It will take me at least ten minutes before I can get out of here and another fifteen before I can get there.”

  “Jethro—there are armed men inside. How will ye manage?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Damn, Jet. We need ye…but he is one vicious scoundrel. Ye’ll need eyes behind yer back.”

  “I know just what he is, and believe me, Tom—I am equipped to deal with him.”

  “Right then. I won’t keep ye. We’ll wait thirty minutes for ye to get there and get in before we bang the front door down.”

  “That should give me enough time to disable some of his henchmen.” Jethro permitted himself a savage grin. “And I suppose ye can take care of the ones I don’t find?”

  “Smartass. Be careful. Don’t get yerself killed.”

  “Hell no…got too much to live for.” He looked at Chaz, who sat upright in the bed with the covers pooled around her, but her expression was grim.

  He put down the phone, and looked at her for a long moment. “I am sorry, love, but ye know I have to go.”

  “I know,” she said simply. “Wait—the wards. How do you get past Mulrone’s wards?”

  “Long story, love. He is a squatter on McBain land. He can’t ward it against McBains.”

  Her shrugged into a black T-shirt before he pulled on his jeans.

  “Jet!” His name came out strangled.

  He stopped and pulled her up and into his arms. “Wait for me here, in bed. Don’t go anywhere, and before ye know it, I will be back. I have a feeling this won’t take long.”

  She reached out and gripped his hand. “Wait and I will go with you.”

  “No, lass. Please, just wait for me here. Do that for me. I want ye here, lying in me bed when I return.” He gave her a measuring look. “Trust me to return to ye. Trust me, Chaz.”

  He collected a scattering of artifacts and slipped them into his pockets. “Fae relics?” Chaz asked. “A Druid priest would of course have some Fae relics at his disposal.”

  His jaw tightened as he got into his boots. “Aye, lass—and this Druid priest knows well how to use them, so don’t worry. I will be back before ye know I have gone.”

  “Before I know you are gone?” She moved toward him. Her hands slapped flat on his chest. “Jet, the moment you leave the room, I will start aching for you.”

  He crushed her to him, and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Och, lass, don’t ye know? Don’t ye know that when you aren’t with me, my world goes dark and the air…Lord save me, the air I breathe thickens and mucks up so badly that I feel as though me lungs will burst. Still, I have to go.”

  “I know.” It was scarcely a whisper.

  “I love ye, Chazma Donnelly. Ye are in here”—he put a fist to his heart, and then to his head—“and here, for all time and we will be together for all time. I want ye safely out of this and I promise I will be back.” He kissed her, touched her cheek, and then ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “Wait for me, lass. Get some sleep, for I mean to wake ye when I get back.” He offered her a wicked grin.

  ****

  Chaz scarcely waited for Jethro to leave before she hopped in the sh
ower. It didn’t take her long to dry herself off, pull on underwear, black jeans, a black T-shirt, and a black hoodie.

  A clap of thunder exploded. It startled Chaz with its intensity, and she bit her bottom lip. Was that a sign?

  Chaz grumbled a few other things out loud, and then stood a moment to collect her thoughts. She needed her bag. As she reached for it and slung it over her shoulder, her cell phone rang and she was surprised to see Dunboyne’s number. She didn’t want to pick it up, but some inner sense made her. “Hey.”

  “Can I come by and pick you up, Chazma?” His tone, soft and sweet, echoed their first meeting in town. It seemed like years ago. “I really need to talk to you.”

  She didn’t have the time for him and his games. He was like Jekyll and Hyde and she was scarcely able to conceal the impatience from her voice. “James, I am really sorry, but I haven’t got the time just now. I’ll call you back as soon as I get a minute.” Chaz snapped the phone shut wondering what he “needed” to talk to her about.

  ****

  A few moments later, Jared Mulrone put the phone down and silently cursed James Dunboyne. He had not chosen wisely in the man who was turning out to be a fool. He had gone to the trouble of casting a spell on old Doc McGraw, making certain he took James on as he eased himself out of his practice and into retirement.

  However, it would appear that it no longer served to have Dunboyne on his payroll. He would have to eliminate him once he was done. At least Dunboyne had been able to keep him abreast of the garda’s information and up to the minute details of their investigation. But now, now when he needed him to continue his flirtation with Chazma, he seemed to lack the manhood to do so.

  He had instructed him to abduct Chazma if he had to and to deliver her to him at Mulrone, and he expected that wish to be carried out immediately. If not, he would just have to go in and get her himself and by any means necessary.

  ****

  Jethro McBain made his way through the trees that bordered Mulrone. Overcast, the day sported a collection of charcoal-colored clouds that hovered threateningly. A clap of thunder heralded the rain sure to follow.

  A frown creased his face. Little cover presented itself for the remaining hundred feet to the manor’s landscaped lawn. He took out the first of the two Fae artifacts humming in his deep inner pocket. The féth fiada was a spell that would make him invisible, but he needed the Fae relic to succeed. He had never tried this before and didn’t quite have the knack of it, but he would give it a try.

  He stood in the cover of the woods and surveyed the ill-shaped Mulrone Manor. There was one narrow avenue from where he stood in the woods, to a protruding corner of the manor. The corner butted out had only a couple of windows. No doubt it was the staircase wall—the staircase that led to the cellar?

  He shook his head and murmured, “Okay, Druid priest, it’s time.” Chanting in ancient Gaelic made his body come alive. He held out the relic and raised it high. Hot damn! Boyish triumph almost made him laugh aloud as he realized he was invisible to all humans—witch or no. He made a run for it.

  He had only been inside Mulrone Manor once in his life, when his father had allowed him to accompany him on a memorable visit. His father had then confronted Jared on the ancient issue of land encroachment.

  His father had always told him to know his enemy, know him well, and he had heeded that advice. He knew nearly everything there was to know about Jared Mulrone. Now he bent beneath a tall window, tried it, and found it unlocked. He smiled to himself. Cocky bastard. His feet landed on the tiled floor as an armed guard in dark sweats turned the corner. Jethro reminded himself the gunman couldn’t see him. He took a great deal of pleasure when he leisurely walked up to the guard, took the rifle, bopped the fellow in the head and dragged him to a closet. “Sorry about this,” he whispered. He fished the plastic ties he had stuffed in his back pocket and trussed the man’s wrists and ankles. That done, he made his way down a long dark corridor.

  Another guard exited a nearby room and with a sneer, leveled his gun at Jethro. What? He was momentarily taken aback.

  ****

  Tense and alert, something shot through Chaz’s system before she looked out the window and saw the dowager McBain leaning into her walking stick where she stood along Brionn driveway. Coming toward the dowager was Dunboyne’s blue van.

  Chazma rushed outside, and jogged toward the dowager even as the van began to slow. Dunboyne drooped forward, and Chaz’s eyebrows arched as she regarded the dowager with admiration.

  Even as Dunboyne began to slump, he tried to stir and exit the van, but his door wouldn’t open. Chazma watched as his hands went to his throat and he appeared to pass out.

  The dowager’s fingers gracefully swept the air as she chanted before she turned to Chazma, who openly eyed her with warmth and admiration.

  The dowager held her arms wide, and Chazma ran to her and hugged her. “What is going on? You put him to sleep. Why?”

  “I did. He is a bad man. He needs to sleep until it is time.”

  “You are talking in riddles, my lady—time for what?”

  “For Tom Murphy to collect him, of course. This so-called doctor is an affront to his profession.” She shooed Chazma off. “Chazma dear, leave him to me. I think you need to be somewhere else.”

  They hugged once more. Chaz’s glanced up at the heavens and whispered, “Okay, Grandfather Fae—I haven’t done this very often since you taught me the knack, but here goes.” In the blink of an eye, Chaz slipped into Fae, and used the Fae method of locomotion. She shifted.

  Chazma closed her eyes as she moved through space. She hadn’t used shifting often enough, and had to concentrate. She knew where she wanted to go and could only hope she wouldn’t end up in the middle of a wall. For a split second, she remembered the first time her handsome and young-looking (although he was more than ten thousand years old) Fae grandfather had taught her the art of Fae locomotion. It had been difficult to learn at first and she had told him in exasperation, “Face it, Grandfather. I am just too human.”

  “No, you are not. Your mother has the ability although she refuses to use it. You have the desire and you are a great deal more Fae than you realize.”

  She had been ten years old, and at ten you still believe you can fly. And she did, through space and time, and she had stepped through the hole her power created, and there she was at her favorite lake. Her grandfather followed her, and laughed to hold her to him. “Sweet child. When they tell you that you must let me go of me—that you must live in your human world and that I have no place there—remember these moments with me. Remember me.”

  Startled, she promised, “I will never forget you, Grandfather. I don’t want to let you go. No one can make me do that.”

  “Ah, the time is coming.”

  “No.” She hugged him fiercely then and he patted her head, and kissed her cheek. However, the frequency of his visits to her mother and to her had decreased then, and she had believed he had grown tired of them. She believed he had forgotten them—until now, until this moment as she recalled the sadness in his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to give them up.

  She landed in a dark hallway of Mulrone mansion just as she had targeted in her mind. Thank you, Grandfather. You were so wise. And I miss you.

  She could remember now, as a child she had thought him a god. When he smiled, she wanted him to stay with her forever. She had been so angry and hurt when he became relegated to a no-show in her life.

  Shifting. Well, she had that down. Now what?

  Even as she thought of the tall, handsome young man, impossibly her mother’s biological father, her real grandfather, she felt love and hurt entwined. He hadn’t been there for most of her young adult life. He hadn’t even been at her mother’s funeral.

  She had expected him to be there. She had wanted to rage at him, and ask why he hadn’t protected her mother—saved her mother from being killed in such a tortured death.

  Chaz put all those feelings aside. Th
ere was no time. Now, she was about to come face to face with her parents’ killer. She scanned the mansion for the staircase to the basement and found it just behind her. She unlocked the staircase door, and made her way down the narrow, dark, circular steps to the basement. She had been waiting for this confrontation. She had been expecting evil and there he was…

  And he was beautiful.

  Tall, with white-threaded golden hair, his sculptured features displayed arrogance. His sensuous lips curved into a smile as he stood straight and regarded her from head to toe.

  Surprise jarred his arrogance, and then recognition of just what she was. “Ah…you have enough Fae in you to shift? Very good, Chazma. Very good—you are an exceptional child.”

  ****

  Guess I better work on that spell a bit more, Jethro realized, he was no longer invisible. He faced the gunman, and his mind raced.

  The gunman didn’t speak as he motioned with his semi-automatic for Jethro to put up his hands. Jethro did as he was asked.

  He didn’t have time for this.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but infused the voices of many for a spell of compulsion. “Put down your gun and find a corner. Stay there until I tell ye that ye may get up.”

  The gunman followed Jethro’s instructions. Pleased, Jethro picked up the gun and twisted the basement doorknob (wondering mildly why it wasn’t locked), and rushed down the winding stairs. He stopped short as he heard Mulrone, and his jaw dropped as heard Chaz.

  “Drop dead!” Chazma spat. “Better yet, let me help you there.”

  “Chazma!” Jethro roared. “What are ye doing here? I told ye to stay home. How did ye get here so fast?” Even as he asked the question, the answer dawned on him and he edged into the room.

  “Not the time, Jet. Busy now.” She returned her attention to Jared Mulrone. “Stand away from Olivia, you stinking bastard.” She eyed him angrily and added, “And by the way, I haven’t given you leave to say my name. Don’t do it again. You killed my parents, you murderous creep.” Her gaze flickered over to Olivia, unconscious on a cot against the limestone cellar wall, and then back to his cold and glinting amber eyes.