Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

“Trust is built over time. We’ll never know if this is real unless we give it a chance. I’ll take a chance on a witch if you take a chance on a human.”

  “Take it day by day and see where it leads?”

  “Exactly.”

  She searched his face, the pull of the positivity potion driving her toward him. “I don’t think I have a choice. You asked me what changed, why I came here tonight. It’s like someone has tethered me to you. The longer I’m away, the tighter the tether becomes until I can’t stand the tension. I have to be near you. Can you feel it? This thing, drawing us together?”

  He nodded, swallowed hard.

  She rose from her chair and walked around the table to stand in front of him. Hiking her skirt up, she straddled his lap. Logan inhaled through his teeth with a hiss. He was instantly hard. If he made it through the evening without coming in his pants, it would be a miracle. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts grazing his chest. He closed his eyes in an attempt to try to keep it together.

  “Make love to me, Logan.”

  “We should wait,” he murmured. “Shooting stars burn out fast.” He couldn’t risk it with her. He wasn’t sure what was happening between them, but he had the sense it was gravely important. It would take will power, but in the long run it would pay off.

  “You don’t understand. I’ve got this hunger in me,” she pleaded softly in his ear. “I won’t be able to function unless it gets fed. I can hardly hold a thought. Please.”

  He lifted both hands to cup the sides of her face and searched her eyes for any hint of uncertainty. There was none. Fuck will power. Just this once, Logan was going to have dessert first.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  First Time

  Polina could feel the moment the wall came down between them. Logan had been holding back, fighting the attraction. She sensed he was afraid of it, afraid of her. The remnants of Tabetha’s folly, she assumed. But she had almost a century of pent-up sexual need and after the appetizer she’d experienced on the sofa, she was ready for the meal.

  Sure, what Logan said about shooting stars and taking things slow might be true. She didn’t know. Frankly, she couldn’t focus long enough to consider it. The fire deep within was blazing out of control and all her blood and thoughts had settled low, like a two-ton weight of need between her legs.

  His kiss was harder this time, wanting. Her teeth tapped his as their tongues maneuvered for position. Fingers dug into her hair and tugged gently at the roots, the slight pain a counterpoint to the pleasure, salt against sweetness, a sharp edge, an intensity that made her pull him in tighter.

  He stood then and guided her through the penthouse, into his bedroom. She had a moment to admire the upholstered headboard and pale gray comforter before he lowered her to her feet.

  “Hold that thought,” he said. Leaving her, he moved to a closet and pulled out three thick white candles, still in their plastic wrappers. “I keep these for emergencies. I’m designating your pleasure as one worthy of their use.” He smiled and unwrapped them, arranging them on the nightstands and the dresser. “Matches,” he said, opening and closing his drawers.

  “Incindia,” she whispered, and the three blazed to life.

  He straightened, turned from the flame. “Handy.”

  She shrugged.

  “Um, I just realized…” He pointed to his drawer.

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “It’s been over a year.” His cheeks blazed red. “Birth control.”

  A smile broke out across her face. “I’m immortal. I can’t get pregnant or carry disease. But thank you for your concern.”

  He inhaled sharply. “I am the luckiest man alive.”

  She stepped in closer and reached for the drawstring on his athletic pants. With one tug, they fell from his hips. The bulge behind his briefs made her take pause before she shimmied out of her skirt.

  “How do I do this?” He ran his fingers along the front of her corset. His voice broke.

  “It ties in the back.” She turned on her heel to give him access.

  His breath quickened as he loosened the laces. She pulled the corset over her head, along with the peasant blouse. Her wand dropped from its holster and she leaned over to pick it up, teetering on her thigh-high boots. Logan grabbed her hips and pressed himself against her as she scooped it up and placed it on the dresser. And then he was kissing her back, between her shoulder blades, and down each individual vertebrae.

  Her breath caught.

  “These boots are sexy as hell,” he whispered. He groaned, took the back of her cotton briefs in his teeth, and slid them from her body.

  She stepped out of them and then turned to face him, wearing nothing but her tall boots. He looked up at her from his place kneeling on the floor, as if she were his whole world, his own personal goddess. And didn’t that just make her wet? It had been a long time since anyone looked at her like that.

  He grabbed her hips and pulled her forward. Worshipping one hip, then the other, his mouth moved lower. Would he dare kiss her there?

  He did, licking up her center and sending her through the roof, the sensation so intense she thought she might pitch over the edge. He seemed to sense her pleasure. Shifting his torso, he hooked one of her legs over his shoulder. She braced herself, digging her fingers in his hair. His tongue picked up the pace. His mouth alternated between sucking and flicking her most delicate flesh. The warm, wet flutter tipped her over the edge, almost immediately. She fell forward, bracing herself on his shoulders, unable to support her own weight as the pleasure rocked her.

  He laughed softly, scooping her up and laying her out on the bed. She watched him remove the rest of his clothing, his erection punching out from his body in a way that sent her flying again. He parted her knees with his hands and prowled to hover over her.

  “Tell me if this hurts. I’ll go slow,” he whispered, pressing himself against her.

  She wrapped her fingers around the base of his neck and pulled him to her. He kissed her as he entered her, and it did hurt, just a little. But the pain didn’t come close to the pleasure. She raised her hips to meet his.

  All she could think, through endless sensation, through ecstasy and skin on skin, was he fit. Logan fit her. Every part of her. They came together in one soul-shattering moment. She was still wearing her boots.

  After a moment, he pulled back and helped her out of them.

  When he tucked her into his bed and curled around her, nuzzling into her neck, she realized she’d vastly underestimated how this encounter would change her. As she slipped into sleep, it was clear the positivity potion had given her exactly what it had promised, and the thing she’d feared most of all.

  She was falling in love with Logan.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Breakfast

  Polina woke to the smell of bacon. She reached over to Logan’s side of the bed, still rumpled and warm but empty. He must be making her breakfast. She pulled his pillow to her nose. His scent permeated the cotton. She couldn’t help but smile.

  Her body was blissfully sore, arms and legs aching from a late night of lovemaking. They’d done it more times than she could count, in ways she’d never imagined possible. She had no regrets. Logan turned out to be a careful and sensitive lover, unselfish, a man worthy of her affections. She hoped to the goddess that she was worthy of his.

  In between lovemaking, they’d talked about everything: childhoods, education, hobbies. She’d spent the better part of an hour answering his questions about her time living in England and France, her trip to the New World on a pirate ship, and life among the colonial settlers. He’d told her about culinary school and motorcycles—he hadn’t ridden one since he totaled his bike the day she’d saved him. She’d grilled him about the human concept of heaven and being a medium. And through it all, until the second sleep had overcome her, she unraveled Logan like a ball of twine and then rewrapped him carefully around her heart.

  Climbing out of bed, she
discovered that he’d left a T-shirt on the corner of the bed for her. The words “Imagine Dragons” scrolled in white letters across the chest. She pulled it over her head. In the process, she caught a glance at herself in the mirror above the dresser. Ruined makeup. Knotted hair. This would not do. Reaching for her wand, she focused and said, “Renova.” A swirl of sparkling pink energy started at her toes and spiraled up her body and over her head. When it dissipated, her red hair fell in perfectly formed curls to her shoulders. Her face held a hint of light makeup, perfectly applied. Her teeth were brushed, and she smelled slightly of lychee fruit, bright and sweet. She hurried from the room.

  Logan was standing at the stove, wearing nothing but a pair of gray cotton shorts. His hair stuck up in the back and out one side, all sandy-blond sexiness. She’d mussed it with her fingers. For a moment, she held perfectly still, watching him crack eggs into a bowl of dry ingredients and whisk the concoction with a fork. Wires hung from his ears, and he sang something under his breath, dancing to the beat. He almost dropped the bowl when he noticed her out of the corner of his eye. He tugged an earbud from his ear.

  “You look stunning. Did you find everything you needed?”

  She lifted the corner of her mouth and held up her wand.

  “Oh… great.” He looked flustered. Polina frowned. She shouldn’t have used magic. He’d made it clear it made him uncomfortable. She set her wand on the table and crossed into the kitchen in time to watch him pour batter into a pan.

  “What are you making?”

  “Berry crepes with crème fraîche.”

  “Mmm.” She ran her hands around his waist and squeezed him from behind. “I can’t remember the last time I had a crepe.”

  He turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never had crepes until you’ve had mine.”

  Her lips parted. After an awkward pause, she laughed.

  “Oh crap,” he said, flipping the crepe. “You’re going to make me burn breakfast. Damn, woman!”

  She planted a kiss on his cheek but was distracted with a barrage of flapping from the balcony. Hildegard knocked her head and wings into the glass. “My familiar,” she said. “Something must be wrong.”

  Polina jogged to the glass doors and popped the lock. “What is it Hildie?”

  “Out all night! No message. No enchantment to ensure your well-being. That white mare from the positivity potion left me in its dust in Vermont! I had to go back home and try to conjure something in the mirror. Imagine my surprise.” She lowered her voice. “There are some things you can’t unsee!”

  Polina darted a glance toward Logan, who was plating the crepes and bacon. Of course, he couldn’t understand Hildegard. No one could, aside from her. Still, her face burned with embarrassment and a niggling guilt rooted in her gut. If Logan knew that last night was the result of magic, she wasn’t sure what he’d do.

  “Is everything okay in the ward?”

  “Yes. The gargoyles managed. Nothing serious.”

  “Good.”

  “But the wolf pack is up to their tricks again. Partying all night with the humans. Calling attention to themselves.”

  “What?”

  “A human police officer was called into camp. Of course, the cause of the complaint was concealed within the boundaries of Silver Sparrow by the time they arrived.”

  “Too close. We don’t need that kind of attention.”

  “Aye. I don’t trust them, my lady. The alpha didn’t take you seriously enough yesterday. I’m afraid there’ll be killings before he does. You must speak to the alpha again, before the full moon.”

  Polina nodded. “I’ll meet you at home and see to it.”

  Hildegard took to the air through the glass doors and disappeared from sight.

  “Sounds serious,” Logan said, placing a plate of crepes and bacon in front of her on the table.

  “It is.” Pensive, she cut herself off a section and took a bite. The sweetness of the berries was perfectly balanced within the savory crepe. She moaned and closed her eyes. “Goddess, I could get used to this.”

  He grinned with pride. “I hope you will.”

  She took another bite.

  “I can’t understand your owl. Are you going to tell me what that was all about? Or is it top-secret witch stuff?”

  “She came to tell me that the new pack of werewolves in my territory is causing trouble again. Their alpha isn’t taking the impending full moon seriously.”

  “Werewolves?” Logan said. “Has Silas contacted you?”

  “Who?”

  “Silas Flynn, the detective I was with at Grateful’s wedding. He’s a werewolf.”

  “Oh… No, I haven’t heard from him. Truly he’d have no way to reach me unless he went through Grateful. Why?”

  Logan looked down at his plate for a moment. “The night after Lucas’s baby shower, a werewolf from Silas’s pack was found in the dumpster outside of Valentine’s. He was murdered.”

  Polina inhaled sharply. “Oh no. Does Silas know who’s responsible?”

  Logan shook his head. “Not yet, but he suspects an escaped convict, a werewolf who has it in for his alpha. A new pack shows up and causes trouble in your ward around the same time a werewolf is murdered? Maybe it’s not a coincidence.”

  “But in Vermont? I’ve been watching the pack since they moved in six months ago. They’re mostly young wolves. A few old. A few sick. They like to drink and get into trouble, but it’s hard for me to picture any of them being capable of coordinating a murder in another state. And the alpha is barely more than a kid himself. These wolves seem hardly able to care for themselves.”

  “Silas is working to find the killer. I told him you were with me that night. He said he might contact you, to see if you’d seen or heard anything.”

  “He hasn’t yet, but I’ll speak with him.” Polina shoveled in the rest of her crepe in an extremely unladylike fashion and washed it down with the cup of coffee he’d provided. “I’ve got to go.” She hugged him around the neck and kissed his cheek before reaching for her wand and satchel.

  “When will I see you again?” he asked.

  She ducked into his bedroom to gather last night’s outfit. “Soon. The full moon starts tomorrow night and lasts three nights. I won’t be able to leave my realm. Let me handle this thing with the werewolves and I’ll be in touch.”

  “Can I call you?”

  “I don’t have a phone.”

  “How do I contact you?”

  She reached into her bag and retrieved the small mirror, the one she’d used to show him her past. “Use this mirror. If you need me, pass your hand across the top and call my name three times. I’ll come to you as soon as I can.”

  “Will it work for me? I’m not magic.”

  “It will work for you.” She stepped in closer, lowered her voice and cocked a brow. “And, I beg to differ. You are magic.”

  He kissed her then, a deep lingering kiss that tasted partly of crepes, coffee, and sleep. She didn’t mind in the least.

  “Well, it’s not the size of the wand, but the magic you can make with it,” Logan said with a laugh.

  “Oh, I have no problem with the size. Your wand is quite adequate.”

  “We are talking about my penis, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew that. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

  She kissed him again, then released a handful of gold dust over her head. She came apart in a shower of gold that blew from his lips and melded into the metal frame of the building.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Very Good Day

  Around three o’clock in the afternoon, Logan strutted into Valentine’s with a spring in his step and a song on his lips—some hip-hop number from the radio. He whistled the melody as he passed Dustin to get to the kitchen. The guy didn’t ask, but the look said it all. Logan never whistled.

  After Polina left, he’d finished his crepes, then spent another hour milling around the house and thi
nking of her. For a good stretch of time, he laid in bed, reimagining every moment of their night together. He refused to wash her plate. At one point, he got to his knees to smell his goddamned couch.

  As weird and obsessed as his actions were, his behavior was a sign of something else. Logan was happy. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. Totally content. Like he fit in his own skin for the first time ever. He’d never felt this way with Grateful or with any of his girlfriends before her. This thing with Polina, as complicated as it was, felt as natural and right as breathing.

  “You’re in a good mood,” Jonah said.

  “It’s a good day. A very good day.”

  “Sounds like someone got lucky last night,” Jonah said through a smile.

  “You have no idea. I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

  Jonah plated the burger he’d been working on and slid it under the warmer. He’d handled the lunch rush with ease. The place was running like Logan never left for the night.

  Logan tied on an apron and got to work. When it came to cooking, he was comfortable with almost anything. Valentine’s served mainly American fare, with the occasional French cassoulet or German schnitzel, depending on the season. But it was the Italian side of the menu that lit his fire. His clam linguine was the best in the business, and his homemade meatballs were so delicious they were known to make grown women weep.

  The hours passed like minutes. Not only was Logan doing his favorite thing, cooking, but he was still high from his night with Polina. Around eight, Dustin shouldered open the door. “Logan, someone wants to meet the chef. Table five.”

  “Got it.” He washed up, hoping this was the good kind of meeting and not a complaint. But when he got to table five, it was Grateful and Rick, all dressed up. Lucas sat in his carrier on the table between them. Grateful had an empty plate in front of her with remnants of his clam linguine. The spot on the table in front of Rick was empty, like he hadn’t eaten at all.

  “What brings you three in tonight?” Logan asked, smiling and shaking Rick’s hand.