Magic After Dark: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Margo Bond Collins

“Robyn.” Ryker approached the end of my bed, his shoulders lifting. “You went back to your ex and kissed him.”

  I gritted my teeth and turned to Dante. “You told him?”

  He slid to the edge of his chair. “I want everything in the open and he deserves to know. If I’d known you loved someone else…” His voice drifted as he ran a hand through his hair. Oh, great.

  “Look, both of you. I don’t belong to either of you. Ryker, after you hit me and attacked the Travelers without mercy, I had no idea you were under the mayor’s spell, and in my mind, I’d left you. I didn’t run to Dante; he found me in the woods.”

  No one said a word because this shit stemmed from Lash, and damn, I’d love to zap his stupid head off his shoulders all over again for putting me into this craphole. But who was I kidding? I’d done this to myself. If I truly adored only Ryker, I never would have kissed Dante, but I’d wanted to. And while I wasn’t sure how to say it out loud without both men laughing in my face, I adored them both. And they were not the type to share. Hell! I hated being in this position, hated myself, hated that I’d lost my heart to two men.

  “Okay, enough.” Dante stood and tugged down the hem of his black shirt, his feather necklace settling in the nest of his throat. The memory of our past sat heavy on my shoulders. “Give Robyn a break. She’s still healing. This can wait.”

  The cords in Ryker’s neck tensed, and my insides shattered at the way he couldn’t even look at me. But blaming me was fucking bullshit.

  “I can’t change the past,” I began. “But Dante will remain part of my life, as will the Hood and Travelers. I can’t erase those parts of me.”

  “Robyn, I’m not asking you to pretend the past didn’t happen!” His posture stiffened, and he kept staring at my bandaged arms. He ran a hand through his hair, and his lips thinned into a tight line.

  “My injuries aren’t your fault,” I said.

  “You don’t think I know that, but I still fucking did it,” Ryker barked.

  “Keep your voice down,” Dante said. “Don’t speak to Robyn that—”

  “Screw you.”

  Dante’s chest puffed out. Hell, I didn’t them getting into a fight over me.

  “Robyn,” Ryker continued. “What hurts the most is that we’ve spent two years together. I shared everything about my past. You had lots of chances to tell me the truth, but you never trusted me. I see that now, and I’m the fucking idiot here. Have a nice life.” He stormed out of the room.

  “Ryker,” I called out, but he left. Part of my soul dissolved. I sat there, unmoving, shaking.

  “Listen, sweetheart,” Dante said, but I couldn’t deal with this now. “I won’t deny that discovering you had a boyfriend and never once told me kills me. I claimed you long ago as mine and for the past three years, I had hopes we’d reunite. But I saw the way you looked at him.”

  I studied Dante and wiped the tears forming at the corners of my eyes. My chest clenched, and the agony of losing Ryker and now Dante was worse than the attack by Lash.

  “Dante, I’ve always—”

  He lifted his hand to silence me. “Don’t. I’ll always be there for you as a Hood member and as a fellow Traveler. You know where to find me.” He turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

  Silence strangled me, and tears slid down my cheeks. “Thank you, universe. No, really. This is the perfect way to end this day.”

  I slid under the blanket and curled in on myself in a fetal position, but the hollowness in my chest deepened. It seemed like Lash had won after all because he’d destroyed me.

  But what did I expect? That both guys would agree to a threesome and we’d live happily ever after? I sobbed, unable to stop the waterworks. My world was at a standstill, and I’d lost the brightness in my day, the happiness—the joy now swapped out with loneliness. I toyed with the idea of running after them, making them understand how much they meant to me, how I understood this was wrong, but in my soul, my emotions felt right. I pulled the blankets over my head and gave in to the sorrow burrowing through me. I let myself cry loud and ugly, unsure how I’d ever face another day again.

  Three weeks of hiding inside my apartment. Not working. Staying in my pajamas all day. Barely eating. Emptiness remained. Like a festering wound, I’d accepted that no matter how much I cried, the situation stayed the same. Neither guy had attempted to reach out during all those days which had hurt at first, but now it pissed me off. Maybe distance was the answer for all of us—clear our heads, work out our priorities. For me, my feelings hadn’t changed toward either man, but I refused to grovel after them if they kept their distance.

  But first thing… Leave the house and go grocery shopping like normal people did. It was time to change things in my life, join society; I was even meeting Charity later for drinks. She had something important to tell me, and while a part of me hoped it involved Dante, I wasn’t holding my breath.

  I picked up the remote control when a spokeswoman on the television said, “With just one week in office, Amber City’s new mayor has declared a war on gang warfare. He plans to clean the streets by any means, starting with the Hood.” I froze, well aware the police chief still blamed them for many unsolved crimes.

  I switched off the television.

  Why would the Hood be the new mayor’s priority? My thoughts sailed to Ryker, who now had full knowledge of Dante and his involvement in the gang. But if Ryker had reported the Hood to the police chief, someone from the gang would have contacted me with news on Dante’s arrest. It would have been plastered all over the news. And that left me curious about Ryker’s behavior. He always followed the rules.

  When my phone rang, I snatched it and answered without looking at the caller. “Yeah.”

  “Robyn.” Ryker’s voice was soft but all business. My life might have been muted for the past few weeks, but in that moment, my anxiety vanished and I grinned widely.

  “We need to talk,” he continued.

  “Agree. I want to explain everything so you under—”

  “Not about us. Something strange is happening in the city. I figured someone like you might have insight.” The tone underlining his words screamed mockery.

  “What do you mean, ‘someone like me’?” I squeezed the phone in my hand and stuffed down the swearing bubbling at the forefront of my mind. His passive-aggressiveness was the result of him hurting, and hell, I was all too familiar with the emotion.

  “I’m downstairs. See you soon.” The phone hung up.

  “Fuck!” Jitters swarmed me, and it had zilch to do with whatever case he needed my help with. After the mayor’s attack, I hadn’t received further calls from parents with missing kids. Clive had never gotten Peter back, and in all honesty, I doubted he would. Not after I’d glimpsed into the pits of hell. A rescue and retrieval from hell wasn’t a possibility. It was usually die and never come back, and I had no plans on dying a second time to face a legion of demons. Or Lilith, as Lash had called the demonic female who fed on children.

  Ryker was outside, and I guessed I was his last turning point. I’d help those in need. That was what I did and would continue to do. Throw myself into my job, protect the innocent, and destroy evil. And if I got to spend more time with Ryker, I’d work on rebuilding the bridge between us.

  My inner arms still ached, one with Dante’s name, the other Ryker’s, the wounds still blushing and crusted over. The doctors said it would leave a permanent mark. This was my reminder of the two men who held my heart, who’d broken it. It was a reminder that if I intended to mend my shattered emotions, I’d have to finally decide the next step in my love life.

  Thanks for reading Tainted Whispers. Are you curious to find out what happens between Robyn, Ryker, and Dante? The next book in the Amber City series is coming very soon.

  Sign up to T.F. Walsh’s Newsletter for be kept up to date on latest books, receive exclusive content, and enjoy giveaways.

  www.tfwalsh.com/subscribe-to-my-newsletter

&
nbsp; Check out the books on T.F. Walsh’s website: www.tfwalsh.com/books/

  About the Author

  USA Today Bestselling Author, T.F. Walsh emigrated from Romania to Australia at the age of eight and now lives in a regional city south of Sydney with her husband. Growing up hearing dark fairytales, she's always had a passion for reading and writing horror, paranormal romance, urban fantasy and young adult stories. She balances all the dark with light fluffy stuff like baking and traveling.

  Check out more titles from T.F. Walsh at www.tfwalsh.com

  Lightning Struck

  Miranda Hardy

  Lightning Struck

  Copyright © 2017 by Miranda Hardy

  All rights reserved.

  Lightning Struck is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means. The scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Quixotic Publishing LLC

  www.quixoticpublishing.com

  Lightning Struck / Miranda Hardy. —First Edition

  Lightning Struck

  A powerful storm unleashes a raging war

  Elysia Lovell’s mysterious heritage catches up with her, forcing her to go on the run once again. Grief-stricken and confused by her father’s disappearance, Elysia is lead to a new place and discovers a family she never knew existed. Hiding her secret becomes increasingly difficult when her tumultuous emotions threaten to reveal her precarious gift.

  Colin Moore is reckless, impulsive, and entrenched in the family business: extorting townspeople and killing Roma. Tucked away in a small town, he didn’t expect a storm to blow in. An exotic new girl shakes his foundation and places him on a dangerous path, one that may get him killed by his own people.

  Elysia sees past Colin’s hard shell; Colin’s certain Elysia won’t understand who he really is, but the secrets they keep from one another have perilous consequences. Elysia’s quest for discovery and acceptance presses her to choose between revealing her true nature or letting her family die.

  Chapter 1

  The last time I cried, thirteen people died. This is no place to sit and meditate, so I clear my mind and concentrate on controlling my emotions as the bus screeches to a stop next to me.

  Elysia, focus on your surroundings. Dad’s advice plays over in my head.

  The wind whistles through the dark treetops in the park across the street and races toward me, sweeping my hair into a swirly mess. I tug on my hoodie as a shiver runs down my spine.

  I breathe deeply, the early morning sounds heard before sunrise captivating my attention. As I listen intently, a frog croaks, splashing into the murky waters of a retention pond. Crickets chirp their familiar tune, reminding me of the swampy area we’ve called home for the past year.

  I peruse the small, quiet station. The lone clerk behind the counter sips his coffee, yawns, and continues to look at his phone. The aroma of fried food mixed with the stench of garbage invades my senses. Next door, a cook from the diner brushes dirt from his hands before reentering through the side door.

  Grabbing my duffel bag, I follow the young couple holding hands who are in line to board the bus. I silently pray I make it out of town. I’m used to being on the run, but this is the first time I’m running alone.

  “Is this your first time going to New Orleans?” The young brunette chomps down on her gum, causing it to pop in her mouth.

  “Huh?” It takes me a second to realize she’s speaking to me.

  “New Orleans? First time?” Her sweet southern accent and charming dimples stir a tinge of jealousy within me. She nibbles on her bottom lip.

  “Oh, no.” I mutter as we proceed to board.

  “Isn’t it the best? I mean, Baton Rouge is a bore compared to New Orleans.” She continues talking as I show the driver my ticket. “We’re just headin’ up for the weekend. You know, getting out of town and seeing something different.” Her eyes light up with enthusiasm.

  I nod.

  The two lovers sit in the front, making the back of the bus increasingly more appealing. I breath in the musty, heavy air and notice how old the bus is. The dark crimson seats need reupholstering, and cracks creep up the dirty white restroom door.

  As the driver releases the brakes, I plop down into the last seat in the rear.

  New Orleans is only two hours from Baton Rouge, and the morning bus is devoid of many passengers, making the ride more tolerable.

  I grip my duffel bag, remembering how Dad frantically shoved it into my arms and told me to leave. When he pushed me out the door and refused to let me back inside, I understood how dangerous things had become. I wish he had come with me as he always did, but I knew this time was different. We had stayed in Baton Rouge too long. I had made friends and started to settle, but settling isn’t in the cards for us.

  The bus jostles me back and vibrations tingle my feet through the soles of my sneakers.

  Why was Dad so cryptic?

  “Go. After I take care of a few things, I’ll find you,” he had said. Remembering the way he said it, his anger seeping through every word, gave me chills. It was so out of character for him. The hairs on my arms rise.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see a flash of red. I turn to look out the back window. A black SUV with a red flashing light on its roof barrels onto the sidewalk of the bus station and two people jump out running into the tiny substation.

  My heartbeat quickens and my skin flushes with heat. It’s too hot on this damn bus. I’m thrown back as the brakes squeal. We’ve reached a red light. Talk about bad timing.

  My hands sweat and bile rises up my throat. I know those people are looking for me.

  The shadowy figures reappear next to the SUV. The driver points toward the bus as they hop in and pull out into the street. Panic grips me. I realize even if I got off, they’d see me. We’ve already passed the park where the trees could have provided some cover. There are only residential, one-story houses on either side of the street.

  The light turns green. The bus lurches forward. The SUV is still two blocks away with its red light flashing.

  The SUV swerves around a car in the intersection. A horn blares.

  I’m trapped like a rat with a cat hot on my tail.

  Then the rain starts—poor cat doesn’t stand a chance.

  Chapter 2

  My fear triggers a new threat: hail. The hail pounds on top of the bus, like rocks hitting a tin roof. A thick fog blankets the area. Dark clouds block the rising sun making it appear as dark as midnight.

  “Where did that come from?” the young girl asks.

  The bus slows. The driver leans toward the windshield, concentrating on the chaotic weather. I’m thankful the sound of the hail blocks out the siren coming up behind us.

  The SUV swerves into the left lane. Its horn drowns in hail that now rips through the murky morning sky and hammers the vehicle like small shards of glass shattering on a tile floor. The quicker my heart beats the faster the hail comes.

  The SUV’s dim headlights scarcely appear visible in the thickening fog bank that envelopes it. It pushes faster, as the occupants ignore the possibility of hitting oncoming cars. My fear escalates and my hands shake as the black vehicle comes closer to the bus. At that moment, as if the Heavens hear my pleas, a large hailstone bashes in the windshield causing the SUV to veer off the road and ram into an oak tree.

  The bus jerks forward again. The driver doesn’t notice
the crash we leave behind.

  I close my eyes and breathe deeply, imagining a calmer place...a place from my past...a carousel of horses going round and round with an organ playing a marching tempo. The long metal silver pipes vibrate in the middle of the carousel, hypnotizing me. The vibrant colors of the horses appear as if they would rub off onto my fingertips. The fishy smell from the Atlantic Ocean invading my overactive senses make me want to ride the plastic horses into the depth of the ocean.

  The hail stops hammering the roof, and the fog subsides illuminating the greenery on both sides of the bus. The clouds disperse, revealing the rising sun with its bright orange and red hues.

  “That was weird,” the young girl up front says. She glances from side to side.

  I block her and everyone else on the bus out and wonder if I’ll ever ride a carousel again. Regardless, it’ll never be as marvelous as when I was younger and fascinated with the pipes playing music in the middle. Our imagination becomes less creative the older we get. I no longer dream of being a mermaid or fairy princess…my dreams now center on finding simplicity and consistency, neither of which I’ve ever had in my short twenty-two years.

  The echoing brakes jostle me from a light slumber. In a haze, I look out the window and realize we’re in New Orleans. The happy couple rush off the bus, as the driver wipes sweat from under his cap.

  It’s been eleven years since I’ve been to New Orleans and the unfamiliar streets look intimidating. The cab stand sits thirty feet away and that’s the quickest possible route out of the bus station. There’s no telling how far behind the Hunters may be or if they are here already.

  A slow rain trickles as I race toward the empty line. I realize my heart beats faster than usual at the thought of being caught here. A man stands against the first cab and looks up at the wet threat.