The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

by Trisha Telep

  She looked at me in surprise. Nice long lashes around those honey gold eyes. “Couldn’t you tell?”

  “You’re an enchantress!” I exclaimed as I realized. One of the rarest kinds of mage, enchantresses were almost always female, and they could project allure so powerfully that a man’s brain would turn to mush. The power has been studied in recent times and seems to be a matter of pheromones. An enchantress could turn hers on, calibrate the intensity, and focus them in an instant. Maggie Macrae could probably stun the whole male population of a New York borough if she wanted to. “I didn’t realize.”

  Her brows arched. “I thought you knew as soon as I came in. I just arrived in New York, so I assumed jetlag had weakened my shielding.”

  I thought back, then shook my head. “You weren’t sending out any enchantress vibes. If you had, I’d have passed out just looking at you.”

  “You thought I was that attractive even though I wasn’t trying to attract?” Maggie said with interest as she nibbled more daintily at a second scone. This close, her lips looked even more kissable.

  “I sure did!” Probably better if I didn’t say that my reaction to her had been, “‘This one! I want this one!” The men in my family tend to fall in love at first sight and stay in love until they die, but no point to scaring her off now that she was talking to me. “Sorry about demanding your energy when we haven’t even been properly introduced.”

  She made a dismissive gesture. “It was needful. I was able to follow you well enough to see what you were doing. He wouldn’t have had a chance if you hadn’t been right here and a superb healer.”

  Her admiring glance warmed me to my cockles, whatever cockles were. That wasn’t covered in anatomy class. I matched my shrug to hers. “It was needful.”

  She closed her eyes, looking exhausted. “Enchantress magic doesn’t always work. My thanks for your timely and well-placed tin of soup.”

  “Shark was so hopped up that nothing could get through to his addled brain, not even world-class pheromones like yours.” I sighed, thinking of the work that needed to be done still. “Do you have enough energy left to help me put a spell of protection on the deli? I cast one here when I started at med school and until now it worked - no robberies, no violence. But something stronger is needed. This shouldn’t happen again.”

  “Good idea. As I said before, I’m particularly good at shielding, so I’ll take the lead.” She cocked an eyebrow at me, clearly waiting to see if I was going to go gorilla on her and insist that I shape the spell.

  “Good. I’m only middlin’ at shielding and repulsion spells.”

  Maggie nodded approvingly. “Plus, you must be tired to the bone after that healing work.” She took my hand, long cool fingers interlacing with mine.

  I drew a shaky breath as lightning jolts of Maggie energy swept through me. I forced myself to relax and flow, putting my energy at her disposal. She wasn’t kidding about being good at shielding. The protection she built was a thing of beauty, like the work of a first-class architect. No armed thugs would enter the deli any decade soon.

  But she allowed nothing personal to show. I’m not as good at shielding, so she must have picked up some of my feelings. She gave me a spooked stare when we finished the spell work and released hands. I let go of her reluctantly, but figured I had to if she was going to believe that I wasn’t a crazed stalker.

  Before I could ask for her phone number, the cops came over and separated us to take statements. Yes, officer, there were three robbers. Shark was the one who shot Rajiv. They deserved some credit for allowing me to save his life. Yes, I’d put Shark out of commission with canned goods.

  I was so tired I was weaving on my feet by the time they had finished with the questions. Mercifully, they said I could wait until later in the day to go to the station and sign my statement.

  As soon as they finished with me, I looked around for Maggie. No enchantresses in sight. My pulse spiked with alarm as I asked the nearest policeman, “The woman, Maggie Macrae. Where is she?”

  He shrugged, his attention elsewhere. “She left after giving her statement.”

  I wanted to howl that she couldn’t leave, we had unfinished business. I was heading for the door when my brother David showed up, looking even scruffier than I did. He’s an NYPD cop, the best detective in the city because he’s a Guardian enforcer and not much gets by him. “Jesus, Charlie!” He gave me a bone-cracking hug. “I heard about this robbery on the radio and had a hunch you were here.” Being Dave, it would have been more than a hunch. “Whose blood are you wearing?”

  I stared down at my gory sweats. “Rajiv’s. But he’ll be OK, I think.”

  “Because of you?”

  I nodded. Dave knew enough to guess the rest. I’d used my healing abilities on him often enough. He had a talent for getting banged up. “I need to get moving,” I said numbly. “There was a woman here, Maggie Macrae, and I have to find her.”

  “Macrae?” He recognized the Guardian name, of course.

  I nodded again. “She persuaded two of the yahoos to drop their guns. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .”

  Dave blocked my way. He can read me pretty well. “You liked her?”

  “For me, she’s why men fight,” I said impatiently. “Now get out of my way!”

  His hand locked onto my arm. “You’re dead on your feet, little brother. And don’t you have a final exam later today? Go home, get some sleep, take your exam, clean up so you don’t look like a fugitive from a slasher flick, and then find her.”

  “I need to find her now, David,” I growled. “Will you remove your hand before I break it?”

  He looked startled - I don’t lose my temper often - but let me go. “Want me to find her for you?”

  Which he could easily, since enforcers are always brilliant finders. “Hell, no,” I snapped. “Women are suckers for the tall, dark and dangerous thing you have down so well. I’ll find her myself.”

  “Would that you were right about the tall, dark and dangerous thing,” he said wryly. “Go left, then left again for half a block. And good luck.”

  As I said, he’s a great finder, and I’ll admit that it saved some time to have him point me in the right direction. But that still left a long avenue block of apartment buildings. I followed his directions. Left, then left again. My brain felt wrapped in cotton wool and I wanted nothing more than to collapse anywhere, a bed by preference though concrete would do. But I had to find Maggie Macrae before I could sleep.

  Some senses operate better when you’re tired. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift as I looked for Maggie’s bittersweet Belgian chocolate energy signature. Chocolate and the smoothest Highland whisky, yesss . . .

  I headed into the third apartment building on the right. A sleepy doorman was on duty. He came awake fast at the sight of my bloody self, and he was six and a half feet of frowning disapproval.

  Before he could call 911, I said reassuringly, using all the persuasive magic I had, “Could you ring Ms Macrae in apartment 30D?”

  Glad I’d been able to pull the apartment number out of the ether, I continued, “I’m respectable, really. Ms Macrae and I were both in a convenience-store robbery and I want to check that she’s OK. Tell her it’s Doctor Charles Owens.”

  It must have been the magic that persuaded him, because it sure wasn’t my appearance. He rang up to her apartment. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Ms Macrae, but there’s a fellow here who calls himself Doctor Owens. Shall I let him in?”

  There was a long pause and my heart sank. If Maggie said no, I didn’t have the energy to storm the building. Not tonight, anyhow.

  But she must have said yes because the doorman grudgingly let me in. I don’t even remember taking the elevator up, though when I exited on the thirtieth floor, I vaguely noticed I’d left bloody smudges on the wall where I’d leaned during the ascent.

  Then I was at her door, knocking. Maggie opened it warily, her shields locked as tight as a bank vault. She’d discarded t
he jeans and blazer and wore a long monk’s robe in gold velvet that matched her eyes. Every inch of skin below her neck was covered, and she was the sexiest woman I’d ever seen.

  Maybe I’d gone nuts - entirely possible - but sexual tension crackled between us like heat lightning. I forgot about fatigue as every cell in my body went on alert.

  Her gaze met mine then slid away. “No need to come by. I’m fine.”

  “I’m not. Can I come in?”

  She stepped back and let me pass while I tried to figure out how to justify being here at 4 a.m. without admitting to crazed lust. Of course she wasn’t worried that I’d attack her - the enchantress gift comes with a major talent for self-defence. But she was still way skittish.

  The apartment was really nice. Glad to have a neutral topic, I said, “It looks like you’re in New York for a while?”

  “I was working in London in computers, and my company just transferred me here.” She crossed to a window and stared out at the lights of the city, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. The golden velvet robe might have been monkish, but the graceful body underneath sure wasn’t.

  “Of course, that’s only my day job,” she continued. “I imagine you’ve heard of the Protection Project? I’m also here to strengthen New York’s shielding. “

  I’d heard of the project, of course. Guardians around the world and across nations and ethnicities all worked to protect the great cities and historical sites from terrorism. We weren’t always successful, but we’d prevented a whole lot of grief, especially in the Mideast. It made sense that someone as powerful at shielding as Maggie would be part of that. I guessed that this nice apartment came with the job. “As a resident of New York, I give you my thanks.”

  “I need to thank you as well.” Her profile was as still and elegant as a Greek sculpture. “You saved me twice, and didn’t even use magic to do it.”

  “Sometimes physical action beats magic.” I really should go home, but I couldn’t bear to leave. I needed something from her. A sign of interest maybe. Not easy to imagine when she was reacting to me like a porcupine.

  Abruptly I realized why she was prickly. I said quietly, “It must be hard to be an enchantress and always have to be on your guard against men going crazy over you.”

  “You have no idea.” Her laughter was brittle. “I had to learn shielding as soon as I could walk. That’s why I usually react badly when men turn into idiots around me.”

  “I’d like to think I’m different.” I was getting better at reading her for I caught a fleeting impression of an unhappy love affair in London. Guardian emotions run deep. Falling for some idiot who lusted after her body and didn’t care about her brains and bravery and uniqueness had devastated her. That’s why she’d taken the job in New York.

  “Owenses mate for life,” I continued. “As soon as you walked in the door, I knew. I don’t expect you to feel the same way now, but I rather desperately want the chance to persuade you to take me seriously. Roses and canned soup and chess games in the park. Whatever you want.”

  She turned, startled. “How did you know about the chess? Of course, you’re a Guardian. And a rather powerful one.”

  “The world always needs healers, and it’s the main thing I’m good at.” I dropped my internal shields so she could probe if she wanted to. “See for yourself.”

  I felt a light, hesitant brush on the edges of my energy field. Then a stronger touch as she began to relax. I felt like a cat being petted.

  “My mother said it’s best to find someone who thinks I look good even in the morning when my hair is wild and my eyes are half closed,” she said thoughtfully.

  “I’m entirely willing to find out.” I looked into her honey brown eyes and felt myself falling, falling, falling. “But I already know the answer is yes. You’ll look wonderful even then. Just like you do now.”

  She looked startled. “I’ve got my allure clamped down to zero. You shouldn’t be able to pick up any enchantress magic at all.”

  “You’re still the most attractive woman in Manhattan, and there’s serious competition here.” I stood very still as her energy reached deeper and deeper, as erotic as if she’d dropped her robe on the floor. Reaching out to her with my own energy, I said, “It’s not just your looks. It’s your brains and your courage in facing down those robbers. That was . . . amazing. Worthy of the most famous of your Macrae ancestors.”

  “You really know how to charm a woman, Dr Owens,” she said with a slow, dazzling smile.

  Her shields went down and she began to glow, her warmth and sensuality enfolding me even though we weren’t touching. Her living room was full of swirling golden light as our energy fields danced and twined together. This was unleashed enchantress power, I realized. I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven.

  “Not a doctor yet, but soon.” Her openness produced a rush of relief so intense I felt downright giddy. To her inner sight, I probably sparkled like skyrockets. “I have no serious vices, I like kids and animals, and I clean up fairly well.”

  “You look rather fine now, in a downmarket sort of way.” She frowned as she read me more deeply. “Heavens, you have your last exam in a few hours! You need to get beyond that before thinking about mating for life.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “Will you go out to dinner with me tonight, after the exam is over and I’ve showered and caught a few hours of sleep?”

  “I have a better plan.” Maggie crossed the room with gliding steps and reached up to rest her hands on my shoulders. Her burning, sexy hands. “You have a fine set of shoulders,” she murmured as she skimmed her hands over them and down my arms.

  “I’m supposed to be the healer,” I said huskily. “But you could raise the dead.”

  Maggie laughed, not displeased. “Now you will go in my bathroom and take a shower while I throw those appalling garments into the wash.” She kissed my left cheek. “Then we will both lie down on my bed and sleep.” She kissed my right cheek. “Nothing else. But the energy exchange of being close will enable you to recover enough to pass your pharmacology exam so you needn’t think more about that.”

  I slid my fingers into her shimmering hair. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say.”

  “Then you will come back here, and we shall not leave the apartment for the next week.”

  Her lips met mine, and we connected in a blaze of pure transformation. This, I realized hazily, was what the ancient Guardians called an alchemical marriage. Two souls bonding till death did us part. And it could happen in an instant.

  I wrapped my arms around her slim, provocative body, and we fell into each other. “Are you sure nothing happens when we go to bed?” I breathed. “There is more than one way to share energy and be revitalized.”

  She laughed and stepped from the embrace. “You wish to play doctor? We’ll see, Charles. We’ll see.”

  I caught her hand and kissed it. She blushed adorably, heat radiating from her as she gave me a gentle push in the direction of the shower. I headed to the bathroom wearing a smile that could light up Manhattan.

  Who said that nothing ever happened on Tuesdays?

  Trinity Blue

  Eve Silver

  Prologue

  Ten miles north of Fort Vancouver, Oregon Country, 1834.

  Night settled, dark and wet, the air smelling of damp earth and blood and death. Daemon Alexander knelt in the dirt, a woman cradled in his arms. Her long hair fell across his sleeve and tumbled to the ground in a riot of guinea-gold waves. She shifted in his embrace as though trying to pull free of him, her breath rattling in her chest.

  “Do you want to live for ever?” he whispered, wiping away the thin trickle of blood that slid from the corner of her mouth. Say yes. Ask me. Only say the words. He could do nothing if she did not say the words. Her gaze flicked to his, then away. He knew then that she could not bear to look at him now that she had seen the truth. Seen what he was. “Would you rather die?” Daemon rasped. He rested his fingers lightly on h
er throat and felt her pulse slow, the pace stuttering as her blood leaked out to pool beneath them.

  “No ... I do not want ... to die,” she whispered, a tear tracing a path along the pale skin of her cheek. “But ... I cannot bear to live . . . not like . . . you.”

  Not like him. A monster. A dark creature that played host to even darker creatures. He had no reassurance for her because he had no reassurance for himself. There was no name for the vile thing he was, at least, none that he knew. Basking in the illusion of their life together, he had forgotten that for a brief time.

  “I love you.” His declaration hung in the air, pallid and weak. It meant nothing in the face of his betrayal. He had come to her as a man, made her believe he was a man. He had almost believed it himself. He had brought her here, to a place wild and untamed. Dangerous. The responsibility for the attack on her was his and his alone. “Let me save you, Alma. Only say it. Ask me. I beg you.”

  She turned her head and looked at him then.

  “I love you,” he whispered again, desperate.

  “I despise you.” Her words were so faint he might have made himself believe he had misheard. But no. He would not allow himself that reprieve. He deserved her hate.

  “I—” His arguments, his pleas locked in his throat as her chest deflated on a final breath. Too late. She was gone. And he was left with her broken shell in his arms.

  All around him the shadows shifted, dark forms rising from the bodies of the men who had come here to steal and rape and kill. They were dead. His will had seen them ripped limb from limb. But he had come too late. They had done their vile deeds before he arrived and so she was dead as well. His love, his wife. Dead.

  His fault.

  Rising, he held his arms wide, calling home the trinity. Again the shadows moved and three raced towards him, sleek in the night. They wound about him and through him, less than substance, more than shadow. He let his pain feed them, his rage and agony. Together, they burst into clear blue flames that spread and grew until every body, every drop of blood in the clearing was burned away in an icy inferno of smokeless blue fire.