Dark & Dangerous: A Collection of Paranormal Treats

by Julie Kenner

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she twisted, trying to see her tormentor in the shadows. No one. And no sound in the night except the whisper of the wind.

  And then he was there, his hand on her breast, his lips on her neck. “Mine,” he whispered, as he pushed the loose strap of her negligee off her shoulder. The garment slid down, the soft material cool against her hot skin.

  Her nipple peaked and he rubbed it with the pad of his thumb through the material. Then he lowered his head, his mouth closing over her breast, his teeth teasing and taunting her.

  She wanted to take his head in her hands and lift him up to face her, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but lose herself to the heat swirling in her body. She hadn’t even seen his face, and yet she welcomed him with her body, with her soul. And with one low, desperate moan, she shifted, spreading her legs as she felt his hand cup her heat.

  Her sex throbbed, and she swallowed a scream of frustration. She wanted him, wanted him inside her, filling her, possessing her.

  “Mine, Cate,” he whispered again. “Remember that you are mine.”

  And then, without warning, he was gone, and she was knocked to the ground by the force of a leaping panther. The panther lashed out, attacking the man who’d been following her. Not her lover, but someone else. A dark man, with ragged hair and a dirty face. A flash of dark fur and claws, and then the stalker’s knife clattered to the ground. It lay there in a pool of the man’s blood as Cate screamed, the sound of her own voice drowned out by a single word that filled her brain, scaring her even more than the attack. Mine.

  CATE JERKED BOLT UPRIGHT from where she’d fallen asleep on the couch. Her heart beat so hard she was certain her ribs would crack. She tried to catch her breath, tried to slow her pulse, but the dream still held her in its clutches, and all she could feel was fear.

  This was too much. Ever since her birthday two weeks ago, dreams had been haunting her. Each time she closed her eyes, her head filled with dark, erotic thoughts of need and lust and possession. Someone wanted her, was looking for her, would find her.

  Even in her dreams she couldn’t hide.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. Those dreams had become familiar friends in contrast to the nightmares that came more sporadically. There’d been three so far, including the one she still trembled from. Each nightmare was awash in violence and blood, and in each one he seemed to be coming closer to possessing her completely.

  Except she didn’t know who the hell he was.

  And, worse, the horrific foreboding in her mind was seeping out into real life. The sensation that she was being followed. That something was happening to her. That the world as she knew it was about to change, horribly and irrevocably.

  Cate shivered, the warm sunlight streaming in from her window no defense against the cold inside her.

  She was in so much trouble. And she didn’t even know why.

  The sharp ring of her cell phone brought her back to her senses, and she levered herself off the couch then crossed the small room to grab her phone off the top of the television. She checked the ID, saw that it was Adam calling, and knew immediately what he was going to say.

  “It’s happened again,” she said, her voice flat. Of course it had. Another brutal attack. The third. She knew, of course, because she’d seen it. In her dream. She’d been right there, watching. Just as she’d seen the others over the past ten days. Unable to do anything, to save anyone. Entirely powerless to help.

  “About an hour ago. The bastard clawed up some homeless guy this time. Looks like our victim may have been about to pull a gun on a tourist, but no one deserves the slashing he took.”

  “Where? Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you.”

  “Not necessary. Riz and Beauchamp took the call. I’m heading to the hospital to take a statement. But I can cover it on my own. I know tonight’s your big night.”

  Cate took a deep breath. “Right. Sure. No problem.”

  Adam laughed. “You’re the only person I know who’d rather go to a hospital and interview a vic doped up on morphine than go to a black-and-white ball.”

  “I have to give a speech,” she said.

  “Just thank the nice people for your award and shake a lot of hands.” To his credit, he didn’t even try to tell her she’d be great. Despite trying to drag her out on her birthday, Adam knew she hated crowds. She loved kids, however, and the one community project that had drawn her in was the All Children’s Fund, a charitable organization that helped out underprivileged kids. She gave them her time and her money, and had logged the most volunteer hours in the past year. For that, she got an award.

  And had to give a speech.

  The thought of standing on that podium talking to all the adults in black tie—the kids weren’t even going to be there, just the sponsors and volunteers!—was more terrifying than all her dreams put together.

  Her dreams. For a few moments, she’d actually pushed them from her mind, but now their memory—and that constant looming sense of being watched—returned.

  Forcing the dark thoughts aside, she headed into her bedroom, saw the black floor-length dress she’d laid so carefully across the bed. With a little frown, she stripped down and stepped into it, twisting her arm into an awkward angle to do up the zipper in the back.

  Finally dressed, she headed toward her dressing table and the single bottle of Chanel No. 5 she’d been hanging onto for years. She dabbed a bit on her pulse points, her eyes drifting toward the birthday bottle from Kimberly. She’d been tempted to pour the perfume into the bottle, but she’d stifled the urge. A bottle like that was a showpiece. If it was ever going to hold perfume again, it would be some zillion-dollar-an-ounce Paris concoction.

  Not that she ever intended to put anything in the bottle. It was too special, too different. Too—

  The bottle!

  The dreams had started when she’d received the bottle. She licked her lips, wondering why the hell she was thinking crazy thoughts. After all, the dreams had started when she’d turned thirty, and that was a far better reason for nutty behavior than a perfume bottle, no matter how old or beautiful.

  With a wry grin, she picked up the bottle. Color swirled in the glass, drawing her in like some hypnotic dance. She stared, losing herself in the color. Reds meshed with purples, gold danced with green. And there, deep in those transient swirls, she saw the coppery eyes of the panther—watching her, and seeing all the way down into her soul.

  LUC TURNED THE SHOWER ON, then paced between the bathroom and the connecting bedroom as he waited for the water to heat. Tense and sore, his muscles screamed in pain. His pulse was rapid, his skin burning hot. He couldn’t remember where he’d been for the past three hours, but still he knew. The blood on his hands was testament to his whereabouts. To his sins.

  In the bedroom, he grabbed the remote and aimed it at the wall-mounted television. Sure enough, the local news was already covering the attack.

  “…marks the third mauling in the past ten days. This latest victim, whose identity is being withheld pending further police investigation, is currently in stable condition at University Hospital. While the community lives in fear, both police and zoo officials continue to search for the black panther that escaped from the Audubon Zoo…”

  The video cut to a shot of a uniformed officer on the steps of the police station. A young, blond reporter held a microphone to the officer’s face.

  “We have not confirmed that the panther is the culprit in these attacks. While our forensic team confirms that many of the scratches are feline in nature, other factors such as location suggest a human culprit.”

  “Someone taking advantage of the panther’s escape?” the reporter asked.

  “Could be. At any rate, we won’t know for certain until the culprit is apprehended or a victim recovers consciousness and can give us a description. In the meantime, we advise all citizens to stay on alert and to contact the police if—”

  Luc clicked off the t
elevision. He’d heard enough. The nature of the maulings suggested a large feline had made the attacks. But some of the evidence pointed to a human. It was a conundrum, and one the police weren’t prepared to answer. Never would they suspect that the culprit was both man and beast. But Luc knew. And the truth ate at his soul.

  He stepped into the shower and let the now-hot water pound away at the guilt…and the blood. With a deep, guttural groan, he pressed his hands against the smooth white tiles and faced down, letting the pulse of water pummel the back of his neck. His body shook as he released the flood of tears. Damn him. He should have moved to South America years ago and lived out his life in the wild. But he’d been selfish, wanting to harness his curse, believing he could find his mate. And so he’d stayed in New Orleans, waiting and watching. And then, two weeks ago, he’d finally found her, only to lose her again. But he knew she existed, and so he’d taken human form to facilitate the search. He’d end his curse; he was sure of that. But at what cost?

  Once before he’d tried to wrangle control, relying on his parents’ belief coupled with his own will and obstinate personality. But his parents had been wrong. Without his mate, control wasn’t possible, not really. And in the end, his hubris had almost killed a child. That was when he’d confined himself to the zoo. Damn him to hell, hadn’t he learned anything while he’d been in that self-imposed prison?

  He lifted his face to the stream, letting his tears mix with the water. He’d go back to the zoo. Tonight, he’d instruct Martin that when the next change came, Luc was to be restrained and captured. Even the possibility that he’d found his mate couldn’t justify remaining free. Days had passed since he’d taken human form, and still he’d been unable to locate the woman.

  Decided, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower stall. He was adjusting a towel around his hips when Martin knocked at the bedroom door, not waiting for a response before he entered.

  “Sir,” Martin said with an almost imperceptible nod toward the open double doors leading into the master bathroom. Ostensibly the butler, Martin was in fact so much more.

  Luc stepped into the bedroom, meeting Martin’s gaze. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” he said. “This time, I don’t intend to return.”

  “I saw the news,” Martin said, going to the closet and pulling out Luc’s tuxedo. “I don’t believe you are the culprit.”

  Luc crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “No?”

  “No, sir.” The butler smoothed a wrinkle on the tux, then glanced at Luc, his expression meaningful. “I don’t.”

  “Then you’re an old fool,” Luc said. “Or have you already forgotten that you let me in the back door not thirty minutes ago naked and covered in blood?”

  “You have more control than you let yourself believe,” Martin said. “You’ve always had more control.”

  A sliver of anger cut through Luc’s gut, and he thought of Clarissa Taylor, the little girl whose life he’d almost taken. “You don’t know anything.”

  “On the contrary, sir. I know everything. That’s why you keep me in your employ.”

  There was more truth in that than Luc wanted to admit. Martin had worked for Luc’s parents, and had been a constant figure in the Agassou household. In fact, it had been Martin who had “donated” the black panther on behalf of millionaire recluse Luc Agassou, who, Martin assured the zoo, was taking several years to tour Europe or else he would have been happy to attend the dedication of the new panther habitat.

  So, yes, Martin did know most of Luc’s secrets. But not all. The man was too loyal, believing the best of Luc when Luc was quite aware that it was the worst that had been manifested over and over again. How else could he explain these maulings?

  “I’m going back,” he said. “You’ll be the city’s newest hero when you bring me in.”

  Martin sniffed. “Nonsense. You’re not going anywhere except to the All Children’s Benefit tonight.” He held up the tuxedo shirt and shook it.

  “Martin,” he began, his tone laced in warning, “these attacks—”

  “Will stop once you’re with the woman.”

  Luc cocked his head. What was Martin trying to tell him? “You…?” He trailed off, unable to get his hopes up. He’d searched for a week, but had no clues. Had Martin succeeded where he had failed?

  “I took it upon myself to visit the police station three days ago, following the last attack.”

  “Dammit, Martin.”

  The butler ignored him. “I spoke with one of the detectives working the case. Caitlyn Raine. A lovely young woman. Apparently she enjoys visiting the zoo….”

  But by then Luc wasn’t listening. Caitlyn Raine. The name cut straight into his soul. She was the one; he was certain. His Caitlyn. His mate.

  The fact that she was a detective—assigned to find him, apparently—snarled his plans up just a bit, but Luc wasn’t worried. This woman belonged to him, and he would have her. He smiled. Perhaps he’d been too hasty in planning a return to the zoo after all.

  “You know where she is?”

  “Indeed I do, sir.” Once again, he shook the tuxedo jacket. “And if you would get dressed, you might even make it to the function on time. I would hate for you to arrive so late that the lady has already left.”

  Luc would hate that, too. He had no idea when the change would come again. Which meant he needed Caitlyn in his bed.

  And the sooner he got her there, the better.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SHE’D SURVIVED.

  Truly a miracle, but she’d actually struggled through, made a speech to a roomful of people, and hadn’t dropped dead to the floor from mortification. Not only that, but at least a dozen people had told her how moved they’d been.

  Amazing. In the last five hours she’d lost herself in an erotic, terrifying dream, seen a panther in a perfume bottle and survived a keynote address. On the whole, she really didn’t know which was the most shocking.

  A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes, and she traded her empty glass for a fresh one. She wasn’t exactly drunk, but she’d had a few more flutes than common sense would dictate. Then again, if common sense were running the show, she wouldn’t have agreed to make a speech in the first place.

  At least the speech had taken her mind off the dreams and the visions. For a few moments she’d experienced something even more terrifying…and she’d survived.

  A few more people came up to make small talk, complimenting her on her speech and asking about her involvement with the organization. She answered the questions, managing to put away another flute of champagne in the process.

  The room spun a little, and she eased up next to a marble pillar, grateful for its support. She knew she ought to mingle a bit more, but she’d already reached her capacity for small talk. Better to stand here looking interested. If anyone approached, she’d try her best to be witty and friendly. And if they all left her alone for the rest of the night, well, that was fine, too. After all, it wasn’t as if there was anyone here she was dying to meet or—

  And then she saw him.

  She swallowed, taking an involuntary step away from the safety of the marble pillar and toward the exotic man in the perfectly tailored tuxedo. The crowd parted to let him pass, but he looked neither left nor right as his long steps carried him across the ballroom toward her. Right toward her.

  Cate gasped, then gulped in air as she realized she’d forgotten to breathe. He was close now, and she could see his eyes—copper with flecks of gold. She’d seen those eyes before. In her dreams. Staring down at her as warm hands stroked her body, bringing her to the brink over and over again.

  This was the man. This perfect male specimen had been filling her nights with erotic fantasies and decadent dreams. Dreams that often faded into the violent nightmares that had made her afraid to fall asleep at night.

  She shivered. Despite the nightmares, she was never afraid in his arms. Her blood never ran cold until the panther leapt through
the sky. The lover in her dreams kept her safe. And until this moment, she’d had no idea who he was.

  But this man couldn’t be her dream lover; the possibility was absurd. Even so, her body and soul knew exactly who he was, and her body was more than happy to respond accordingly. Her nipples peaked, hard nubs that rubbed against the soft silk bodice of her simple evening dress. Her stomach filled with a liquid heat that seemed to shoot down into her thighs. Her knees were weak, and she wished she was sitting down.

  Somehow, her dreams had become reality. Either that, or this man had been invading her dreams, moving into her secret fantasies, her decadent longings. Both ideas were impossible, of course, and yet here he was. This man. And she knew him. She really did.

  “Caitlyn,” he said, his voice somehow familiar. He was right in front of her now, so close she could feel the heat from his body and smell the musk of his cologne. His hypnotic eyes drew her in, and she took a step toward him, barely conscious of her own movements.

  “I’m not…this isn’t…” She didn’t know what she wanted to say, knew she wasn’t making sense.

  “Isn’t it?” His voice was low, husky, with the slightest hint of a Cajun accent. His words surrounded her, flowing over her like warm honey. Her thighs tingled, a moist heat building at their apex. She fought the urge to slip her hand under her dress and stroke herself over her damp panties. She wanted release, needed it, and God help her, she wanted it right then, right there, with that man.

  “It’s time, Caitlyn.” He held out a hand.

  Inside her head, she screamed at herself to run away. Far away, and never look back. She didn’t know this man, this stranger who had peeked into her soul.

  But then she tilted her head back and once again looked into those eyes. And that was when she knew the truth. She did know him. She didn’t know how or why, she only knew that she did. Somehow, some way, she knew everything about him even if, at the moment, she didn’t even know his name.