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

by Mina Carter

  She sat cross-legged on the floor, a fresh salt circle surrounding her. She glanced over at the door, the sound of approaching footsteps grabbing her attention. The door swung open with a crash. Great, another mess to clean up.

  The disruption was quickly forgotten as soon as she saw who had disturbed her. Drake barreled through the open doorway, his features stricken with concern. His imposing body was tensed for battle. He scanned the room, looking for something to kill. It was as if his entire body would explode if he didn’t find it. Then his eyes landed on Anika.

  “My God, darlin’, I thought the worst. What happened here?” He rushed over to her. His stern features softened after finding her safe, but his golden eyes never stopped scanning the room. Something had happened there; he was sure of it. By the smell and feel of the room, which reeked of bad juju, he was certain it had everything to do with the crazy woman he’d run into only moments before in the stairwell.

  “Tamra happened,” Anika said.

  Before he could get any closer, she held up her hand, stopping him. Pointing at the circle, she said, “You know you can’t cross.” She smiled up at the handsome warlock. Her belly fluttered out of control, and heat scorched throughout her body at the sight of him.

  Drake was always dressed for battle, starting with the black leather, steel-toed boots he wore. He had two wicked daggers sheathed at his sides and a shoulder strap that holstered two guns belted across his wide chest and strapped over his dark shirt. Blades and bullets weren’t the battle-hardened warlock’s only defenses. There was also his massive body, which was built like a sleek tank, all muscle and sinew. That wasn’t a truth only because of his ability to use brute force, but also, because Drake was a very powerful warlock.

  Scars covered Drake’s hands, and a long, white one puckered along the curve of his chin. It traveled down his neck, disappearing underneath a t-shirt spread taut against a ripped chest. Anika knew from experience that that particular scar marked him from chin to waist. She had once asked him how he got all of his scars.

  “I collect them like souvenirs; each mark, a reminder of the high cost of using magic.”

  As a practitioner of magic herself, and a witness to some pretty powerful things, she understood the meaning of his answer.

  Drake eased himself down on his knees. “Are you okay?”

  Anika pressed together a special combination of herbs and a pinch of grave dirt with a stone pestle and mortar. When she was satisfied with the resulting fine powder, she stood up with her broom in hand. Drake rose with her.

  “Tamra set a spell loose and wrecked the place, but I was left uninjured.”

  “So that’s what shot out of the castle like a pistol. I had a feeling it was bad. I just didn’t know to what extent.”

  Across the room, the dragon roared. She knew the sound; it was the equivalent to Faing’s grunt. He agreed with Drake, and so did she.

  “The town and its people are in danger.”

  “Indeed.” His gaze shot to the mortar. “What are you making? Is that grave dirt I smell?”

  Anika smiled at her warlock. He had an incredible sense of smell, among other endearing attributes.

  “Yes, I’m in the process of making a nullifier to battle the malevolent magic. I’m almost finished.”

  “I hope this will open your eyes to how much trouble Tamra is. That woman has been harassing you for far too long. I think it may be time to apprise the Priestess and my father of her antics,” Drake said.

  She looked over at Drake and smiled. His aura burned bright. A red halo, which was dominant above all the other colors in his aura spectrum, surrounded him. It meant that he was filled with passion, stable in thought, and full of vitality. Anika read the outline of yellow that stood out to her, surrounding the halo of red. His brain was working overtime, logically poring over options as to how he could help her. He was always trying to fix things.

  “You know I won’t do that,” Anika said. “I’m still not convinced that she’s all the way gone. She loved me once; we were best friends, practically sisters. I owe it to her to not give up so easily.”

  A burst of orange flared against the red part of his aura. With all three colors burning bright, Drake resembled the blazing sun, proof positive of the warrior he was to his very core, an expression of valiancy in every beat of his heart. He couldn’t help trying to protect her. It was who he was and why he was the fiercest warrior of his clan.

  Drake swallowed hard and looked at Anika as he released a frustrated breath. “We will do this your way, then. For now.”

  “Thank you.”

  Relieved, Anika leaned over, setting the broom on the floor in front of her. She scooped a handful of pressed powder into her palm, and with her other hand, pinched a portion of the magic dust between her fingers and sprinkled it over the bristles of the broom.

  “I ask the Goddess Three to hear my call. Bespell this instrument of good; no magic can run from the cleansing sweep of its thrall. What riddles the mind and hides truth from its bearer, with this instrument, will wash away the corrupt and bring forth truth to its wearer. In this, I ask harm to none. Blessed be.”

  Drake dragged a hand through his hair and stood. He watched Anika finish her spell. She was busy at the sink, cleaning up and neutralizing all the utensils she’d used with salt baths and rubs. She’d already broken her circle, so he stepped up behind her. The smell of French vanilla and sage wafted off her body as he slipped both arms around her. His forehead dropped forward, resting against soft, coffee-colored hair and the back of her head. Drake breathed her scent in and squeezed her waist gently.

  “I missed you,” he said, glad to finally touch her.

  Anika licked her lips, set down the mortar in her hand, and turned in his arms to face him. She reached up and cupped his cheek. Her thumb moved across his bottom lip.

  “You’re all I thought about,” she said. Leaning up, she kissed him. “Your missions are drawing out by days. I get lonely.”

  “The Dark Ones have grown bolder.”

  She rolled up her apron, tossing it in the sink, which was full of salt water. It was a lazy way to neutralize the lingering magic left on it, but she would see to it properly later.

  “Are you coming with me?” Anika lifted her freshly spelled broom. “I have a town to clean up.”

  “Yes, of course. There’s no other’s side I’d want to be glued to.”

  Faing soared into the air. He spun backwards twice and flew at her with lightning speed. Within the span of ten feet, he morphed from a six-foot-long dragon, into a six-inch one. He curled up inside the front pocket of her jacket and let out an adorable roar. It seemed that Faing had decided to tag along with them.

  Chapter Four

  Anika stood, confused and frustrated, in front of Drake’s motorcycle.

  “Where am I supposed to put this?” she asked, looking for a suitable place to stash her broom. “Every leather strappy thing, holster, or bag already has a weapon in it.”

  Drake walked around the bike. Chuckling, he grabbed the broom from her hand and stowed it away in one of the saddle bags. He then grabbed Anika by the waist and hefted her gently onto the seat.

  “You’re useless, woman,” he said, patting the side of her leg.

  Laughing, Anika stuck her tongue out. Thoughts of nibbling on the glistening wet morsel had Drake leaning over her in a flash. He licked her wet lips, unhooked the helmet from off the back of the bike, and slid it over her head.

  “Maybe you’re not so useless after all, with a delectable mouth like that for kissing.”

  Pleased with his reaction, she added with a purr, “It has other uses, too.”

  He flung his leg over the bike, being extra careful as he sat. “God, woman, you’ll be the death of me.”

  She watched him settle in. He was so damn sexy in the way he shifted around in his seat, trying to get comfortable…and adjust himself. That was a reaction she loved to stir from him.

  Anika gave him a
teasing smile. “I’ll also be your resurrection.”

  “Keep it up, darlin’, and we won’t be making it out of this damn parking lot,” he groaned.

  She banded her arms around him tightly. “Okay, I’ll be good.”

  Drake revved the engine and pulled out of the garage. “Where to?”

  Anika pointed toward the city that loomed at the bottom of the winding mountain road. “We follow the magic.”

  Drake drove through the massive iron gate that surrounded Hecate Castle. The double-sided entry screeched closed behind them as they headed in the direction of town. Anika leaned forward, her head resting against the inside of the helmet and Drake’s back. Her lids lowered over her dark eyes. She let herself relax and took a precious second to reacquaint herself with her boyfriend. He had been gone for two long weeks that time. Every moment was a measure of patience against unrelenting anxiety, because she knew the evil his clan was dispatched to fight. Anika felt Drake’s shoulder muscles strain as he reached to place a hand over her arm. With that reassuring touch, she became calmer. He was home. That was all that mattered.

  Soon they passed the borderline into town. He slowed the motorcycle down to about fifteen miles per hour. Anika lifted the helmet’s visor.

  “Do you smell that?” Drake asked, sniffing the air.

  Anika watched the tail end of grey and blue smoke wrap around a tree several feet ahead.

  “I don’t have to smell it. I can see it. Pull over, quick.”

  Before the bike could come to a full stop, Anika lost the helmet and was bounding off the bike. She kept her eyes locked on the slithering magic, as she pulled her spelled broom from the saddlebag. After pushing the release button, the broom flashed open to full length.

  Her face a mask of determination, she said, “It’s time to find out if my spell worked.”

  Anika walked toward the tree, which was then wholly immersed in smoke. For a second, she stared at it. She’d never seen the destructive workings of that kind of magic before, and she’d worked and cast a lot of spells in her short lifetime. Roots speared through the ground in an explosion of rock and dirt. The stocks whipped and thrashed like an octopus’s tentacles, the enchantment giving the tree life and its own malevolent purpose.

  “Ani, get out of there!” Drake yelled from behind.

  Drawing his daggers, he charged.

  Anika lifted her broom, swiping it against the first root that curved and dived to attack her. It crackled and burst into a puff of white smoke as soon as the bespelled bristles touched it. She smiled. The spell she put on the broom had worked. The celebration was short lived though, because roots by the dozens were sprouting up and angling to attack her and Drake. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the errant magic crawl across the grass, rushing from the havoc it had caused. It ambled, poof over plume, churning its way toward the small town of Rock-Cliff.

  Searing pain exploded from her leg. Anika looked down to see a root yank itself free from her thigh. The leg muscle had been speared through. Blood soaked her jeans, tears stung her eyes, and she almost passed out from the intense pain.

  Drake was by her side in an instant. The roots battered and stabbed at him, but he chopped each one down with a swift thrash of his daggers. Small cuts dotted his face and arms. Sweat beads accumulated, hovering on the skin of his forehead, and then streamed down as he creased his brows in worry for her.

  “I’m okay. I just need help up, so I can sweep away the rest of this magic,” Anika said, her voice strained with agony.

  “The only thing you’ll be doing, woman, is staying off that leg until I can heal it,” Drake said in a commanding voice that brooked no argument. He snatched the broom from the ground.

  Anika opened her mouth to protest, but snapped it shut as she saw his stern expression. Instead, she stayed put and watched Drake as he swept the broom over all the pieces of root littering the ground. One by one, they shrunk down to normal size, almost disappearing. When he was satisfied that he’d sufficiently de-hexed all the pieces, he went to work on the tree. Ten minutes later, he knelt down by her side. He glanced at her wound and cursed.

  “Damn it. I should have healed you first. Forgive me.”

  She placed a trembling hand on his stubbled cheek and blinked back the remaining traces of her tears. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You did the right thing, Drake. It was smart to eliminate any threat to us first. My wound isn’t a fatal one; I’m uncomfortable, but fine.”

  Anika swayed, belying her proclamation of wellness. Furious with himself for letting her lose so much blood, Drake yanked off his shirt, bundled it up, and laid her back gently. The makeshift pillow cradled her head; the smell of him that lingered on the shirt comforted her senses.

  “I’ll be just a second,” he said, jumping up.

  Anika felt something squirm inside her jacket pocket. She pulled it open and peered in to find Faing curled up in a ball, mouth agape, yawning. “Thanks for nothing, you no-good lizard. I could have used your help.” She let the fabric drop back down around the lazy beast.

  As promised, Drake was back in a flash, holding a round disk. It was an amulet she’d seen him wear before, but never for long. He looped the leather strand over her head, and it fell around her neck. The pentagram that it held hung low, between her breasts. He laid his palm against it and said a single word of incantation, “Curatio.”

  A warm zap struck the skin beneath the amulet, where it rested against her chest, and warm tingles spread throughout her body until she felt a concentrated burn at the center of her wound.

  “Ani?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was low…strained, fighting back the pain from the rapid healing.

  “Are you okay?” Drake asked. His features were pinched, her pain mirrored across his face.

  She nodded. “We have to leave now. The magic has a huge lead on us. There’s no telling what it will do.”

  “Give it a few more seconds, darlin’. After the healing charm has been on you for a bit longer, we can leave.” His tone smoothed over her like melting caramel.

  She bit her lower lip. “Okay.”

  There was no use in arguing with him. He would always put her well-being over all others. Even above a town full of people who had no clue what was heading their way. He leaned over and placed a tender kiss on her brow.

  “That’s my girl.”

  Chapter Five

  Several minutes later, Anika swung a leg over the back of the bike and removed the motorcycle helmet from her head. Standing on her injured leg, she bounced her weight onto it. Drake’s healing charm had worked wonders, sealing the cut and knitting the muscles and skin back together.

  Her eyes roamed the city streets. She noticed the mom-and-pop shops starting to close down for the evening. The only places that remained open were The Crow’s Nest, the town’s only bar, The Greasy Skillet diner, and the town’s most popular lodging spot, the Crimson Crescent Inn, which was an eight-bedroom Victorian mansion. The town was a moderately busy tourist attraction, catering to customers who practiced, or were devout believers in, witchcraft and Wicca. Some graced the cobblestone streets and unloaded pockets full of cash in the town’s quaint shops, because they were lured there by Rock-Cliff, Massachusetts’ brutal history—The Witch Culling.

  The Dark Ones were the driving force behind the murder of almost every coven witch who resided within the borders of the town, as well as Mystic Manor. It took years to recover from the attack. A few of the smaller, visiting covens had been wiped out of existence entirely.

  Anika hadn’t been born yet, but she’d read and heard about the tales recounting those horror-filled nights. That slaughter was one of the main reasons Drake’s clan, The Wardens, were enlisted to build a brotherhood of warlocks whose main purpose was to fight against the injustices of man and to battle against the evil-doings of the soulless Dark Ones.

  “Everything is quiet,” Anika said, shifting in her boots. The calm unnerved her.

  Drake pul
led off his helmet and stowed it away. Wind picked up his bangs, bringing with it a familiar smell of magic. Pivoting to face her, he said, “Don’t let the calm silence fool you. I can sense the magic that hurt you lurking about.”

  “I just caught the scent, too. It’s close.”

  His hand, the one with the scar, settled on her shoulder. “Keep a sharp eye. This situation is a no-holds-barred crap shoot. Without warning, something can try and take a bite out of that beautiful ass of yours. That’s an ass I’m particular fond of, so keep your broom ready. Understood?”

  In a confident voice, she said, “Loud and clear.”

  Drake was the one to defer to with any tactical issues, being that he was a hardened soldier with a ton of experience in battle. She’d be a fool not to listen, so Anika gripped her broom and started walking. The streets were quiet, with plenty of nooks and crannies to search, but Anika decided to follow her instincts and head towards the Crow’s Nest.

  Anika found the bar easily enough, because it was only a block away from where she and Drake had parked. The single-story tavern stood on a corner lot, with music and the smell of stale smoke trickling from it. The brick building shared the block with a huge parking lot on the left, which was packed with vehicles.

  Everyone who enjoyed drinking and was inclined to act on it was inside, unwinding from a long day or whooping it up for the hell of it. Anika sighed; she could really go for some of the latter. But all thoughts of drinking and having fun were squashed when she spotted the tail-end of her magic slither under the front window. Her gut feeling had been right. Like a tick searching for a mutt to suck dry, the magic had gravitated toward the town’s liveliest night spot.

  “It’s here,” she said.

  Drake stretched an arm around her to open the door. “This can end in a fucking mess with all these humans around.”

  Anika frowned. “Ya think? I could strangle Tamra for this.” She stared at the open door, and then took a step in.