Tall, Dark and Paranormal: 10 Thrilling Tales of Sexy Alpha Bad Boys

by Opal Carew

  “Are you okay, Lucien? You look a little pale.”

  I blinked away the threatening rush of blood behind my eyes before I looked at her. “I’m much better than okay, dolcezza. I’m with you. I’m wonderful.” She smiled. “Would you like to take a walk? There is supposed to be a path along the river over that way.” The fresh air was helping.

  “That sounds nice.” She leaned into me and shivered a little.

  I stepped away from her, needing the moment to collect myself, and then shrugged out of my suit coat. “Here.” It was miles too big, but she made it look sexy nonetheless.

  She pulled the fabric of the collar up to her nose and breathed deeply. The look on her face was complete satisfaction. I smiled to myself at such a small but meaningful gesture. Sometimes it was so hard to believe she loved me. But I knew she did.

  I could see it. I could feel it. It was an inexorable truth. These thoughts alleviated the worst of the bloodlust.

  We reached the river walk where a few other couples strolled as well. “So, tell me, what do you think of the Phantom?”

  “Hmm. Well, I’ve always felt bad for him,” she began. “He’s clearly lonely. But he’s also so desperate and angry he makes his situation worse.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, despite the way he acts, Christine cares for him, at least on some level. Perhaps if he had been nicer and less manipulative, she could have both loved him and accepted him.”

  “Do you really think she could have found a way to love a monster?”

  “He made himself into a monster. And he assumed she couldn’t handle what he was, so he lied and hid himself. She might not have seen him as a monster if he’d been honest with her about his condition. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being too idealistic.” She smiled.

  “What about you? If it turned out I was a monster, could you accept me?”

  She stopped and looked up at me. “Hmm. What kind of a monster would you be?”

  “Would it matter?” Something in my eyes must have alerted something in her body, because her heart rate ticked up measurably and she shivered.

  She tugged the lapels of my coat closed around her. “If you’re a monster, Lucien, than so am I. In which case, we would still belong together.”

  “Samantha—”

  Her phone buzzed in her purse. I bit back a curse in Italian at the interruption of the perfect segue into what I so very badly needed to tell her.

  “That’s odd. It’s so late.” She fished around in the small silver bag and pulled her phone out.

  “Hello?”

  The blood drained from her face. “What happened? Okay…Okay…” A tear ran from her left eye as she listened. “I’ll be home as soon as I can get there. Thanks.”

  My hearing had allowed me in on both sides of the conversation, but I still had to ask for appearance’s sake. “What’s wrong?”

  “Dad…he collapsed. They don’t know what happened yet. Ollie got up to go to the bathroom and found him on the hall floor. She ran next door to Mrs. Johnson, who called 911.” Her face paled and her lower lip trembled. “I’m sorry…”

  “I’m so sorry. Everything will be all right. Come on.” I turned us back in the direction of the hotel, my arm around her shoulders. “We’ll leave immediately. I’ll get us back as quickly as humanly possible.” If I could get her to fall asleep, it could be even faster.

  Within thirty minutes we had returned, changed, packed, and were speeding out of Milwaukee.

  Chapter Eleven

  Joe never regained consciousness after the stroke.

  He lived for seven days on life support. On the morning of the seventh day, Samantha requested the life support be removed. Joe had made it clear he didn’t want to be kept alive by machines if something ever happened to him.

  During his week in the hospital, I cared for Ollie so Samantha could concentrate on her father. Ollie was not doing well. Not only was she traumatized by finding Joe unconscious, but she was deathly afraid Samantha would leave her next. Every time Samantha left the house to go to the hospital, Ollie cried for her to stay. Samantha’s heart broke over and over again as Ollie’s old insecurities resurfaced.

  The second day was so bad I resorted to charming her after Samantha left. I calmed her, and moments later she fell asleep in my arms from the stress. I held her on the couch like that for three hours before she woke up. When she did, she looked me square in the eyes and said, “At least I know you’ll never leave me.”

  I had no idea what made her say that, but was desperate to reassure her. “I’ll always be here for you, Ollie.”

  When I accompanied Samantha to the hospital on the third day, her neighbor, Mrs. Johnson, watched Ollie. Though she babysat for Samantha frequently, she was elderly and couldn’t really manage a distraught child, so I had to use my power over Ollie then, as well. It was just hard for her to watch both of us depart at once, but her body was so worn out it was easy to will her to sleep.

  I really needed to go to the hospital, though. Since we’d returned from Milwaukee, I hadn’t had time to feed. It was critical I do so, given the heightened emotional states of my girls, not to mention, I was too pale, too cold, and too far out on the edge of my control.

  When we arrived at the hospital, I offered to get Samantha some breakfast from the cafeteria. She went up to Joe’s room while I met Langston at his office. I’d called him while Samantha slept on the drive home from Milwaukee so he could prepare for me to stop by sometime during the week; he had five pints waiting. I handed him an envelope as I entered his room. He stood watch outside the door while I drank. I disposed of everything in a bag he’d provided. “I’m done, Langston.”

  He easily heard my voice through the door and walked in and sat behind his desk. “You still look a little like hell, Lucien.”

  “Thanks. Appreciate that.”

  “What’s the deal?”

  As much time as I was spending at the hospital, he would figure it out soon enough, so I told him about Samantha. I could feel his surprise and even a little disapproval, but I respected him for simply saying, “Good for you, man.” He had always been a good friend.

  I left shortly after that and picked up a bagel and coffee from the cafeteria. Samantha was so absorbed with her father she barely registered when I returned. The only good thing about her distraction was she didn’t register my temperature change. I kissed the top of her head.

  She flicked her eyes to me and attempted a smile. Her emotions were a salty-sour mixture of sadness, guilt, despair, and hope. But she had too much medical knowledge to put much faith in the latter.

  The next day Samantha asked me to stay with Ollie, who was still asleep when Samantha left. It felt odd being in their house without Samantha around. I wandered into her room where I had been “sleeping” lately, and lay down on her side of the bed. I buried my face in her pillow and breathed in her scent, then shifted and looked around the room, memorizing every detail of the place where Samantha was most herself.

  Finally, my eyes settled on the slightly open drawer of the nightstand table next to me. Without thinking, I pulled the drawer open and saw Samantha’s well-used journal inside. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up.

  Samantha had been so distant the last couple of days, which I completely understood, but I found myself longing for just a hint of her old happiness and suspected some might lie within those pages. I picked the book up and turned randomly to a page in the middle.

  Samantha filled her journal with thoughts about raising a child as a single parent, her relationship with her father, and her achievements and friendships in her nursing program. I flipped forward several more pages and stopped when my name jumped off the page.

  I met a guy at the hospital tonight named Lucien, I think. I say “I think” because when he shook my hand my brain seemed to stop working. I’m not sure if I heard him right. He was so gorgeous. I mean, just unreal. He was tall and had the best hair—brown and a little long and
wavy. I felt like I could get lost in his eyes. They were the most interesting shade of gray. I made a complete idiot of myself in front of him, although he didn’t seem to notice. I really hope I get the chance to run into him again.

  A few pages later, my name appeared again.

  How weird is this? That guy Lucien I met outside the hospital now rents a house right near mine. When I saw him I couldn’t believe it. And then Ollie seemed to know him. Turns out she snuck out of the house last weekend and fell down. He helped her. AND she hugged him. I almost fell over when she did that. She looked so little in his arms, and he completely gave her what she needed. It was so sweet. I can’t remember the last time Ollie reacted that way to someone. That must be a good sign about this guy. Ollie has always been a good judge of people.

  I knew I shouldn’t read her journal, but I was hooked. Just a few more pages, I told myself. Then I would never do this again.

  Ollie and I went over to visit Lucien at his house this morning. Ollie insisted we make him an angel food cake of all things. I had to send Dad to the store for all the eggs. Lucien seemed surprised but pleased that we came. He gave us a tour of his house. I had always wondered what that old place looked like on the inside—he renovated it and it was beautiful. And he did all the work. He is obviously very talented. God, he is so handsome. He seems rugged and refined all at once. He’s so tall and his hair looks so soft. I just want to run my hands through it and brush it behind his ears. And he has an incredible body. Can I just say? The width of his shoulders! Oh. My. God. But he’s so gentle and kind too. I wonder what Mr. Cute-Sexy-and-Talented would think of being with a twenty-six-year-old mother of a five-year-old…Sigh. Just what every guy wants. Oh, and the weirdest thing happened, Ollie tripped down the steps and somehow he caught her. I swear it seems impossible that he did, but he did. Maybe he’s like Clark Kent. That’s too funny.

  …Aaaahhh! I asked Lucien to kiss me tonight and he did and IT WAS INCREDIBLE! Okay, back up. He took me for an ice cream cone, and the next thing I know I put ice cream on his face. I have no idea what possessed me. But then he did it to me. For some strange reason he wouldn’t eat the ice cream off his finger so I did it for him. I thought his eyes were going to bug out of his head. And I thought my heart was going to pound out of my chest. What a pair we would have been. But then I asked him to kiss me— and I swear it was the best first kiss ever in the history of the universe. And the way he wrapped himself around me! I made an excuse of wanting to say good night to Ollie so he would take me home, because I so would have ripped his clothes off right then and there. There’s something quiet and brooding about him that is so sexy. Ugh!

  …Today I told Lucien about Jensen and my decision to have Ollie. He didn’t freak out! God, he seems to like Ollie as much as she likes him. She talks about Lucien all the time. It’s very sweet, but it also makes me worry a little. She’s getting all attached to this man, and I have no idea what he even is to me yet, except he did say he likes me too! He took me on a date tonight to this great jazz place. An actual date! God, it felt so good. But before that he played his violin for me. I thought I would melt. It might have been the most beautiful, passionate thing I’ve ever heard. He was so sexy and intense when he was playing. He is really different from other men. I can’t figure out what it is. The way he listens to me— he’s always so attentive and intense. Whatever it is, I really like it. But I have to be careful. I think I could really fall for this guy if I let myself. God, I don’t feel lonely for the first time in, well, five years. Lucien. When he looks at me he makes me feel like I’m the only person in the whole world.

  I closed the book.

  I wanted to keep reading. Hearing her thoughts about me was just so damn gratifying, but it was also so wrong. The last thing Samantha needed to worry about was me invading her privacy while she was at the hospital with her dying father. Vowing I’d never open it again, I slid the journal back into the drawer and pushed it shut. I’m sorry, Samantha.

  The next couple of days were sunny, so I stayed with Ollie during the day and visited Samantha at the hospital in the evenings to bring her home. She was grateful for my attention to Ollie, who was quiet most of the week and seemed to be watching me a lot.

  By Saturday morning, Samantha had made her peace. She knew enough to know Joe wasn’t waking up from what had happened. She requested they remove the life support and spent the day glued to his side, sure he would pass at any moment. He surprised everyone by hanging on.

  Then, midmorning on Sunday, Joe Sutton took his last breath while Samantha sat by his side holding his hand. I was in the hospital cafeteria getting Samantha a coffee and a muffin. She had hardly eaten in the week since we’d returned from Milwaukee, and I was determined to help her keep up her strength. I knew the moment it happened, because a wave of pain so crushing swept through me I dropped the coffee on the floor where I waited to pay for it.

  I fled out of the cafeteria and through the hospital, needing to get to Samantha as fast as I could. A nurse at the ICU desk gave me a look signaling what’d happened. I nodded, then pushed through the door to Joe’s room.

  Samantha sat next to his bed. Her face was stoic as she looked at her father and clutched his hand. I paused at the foot of his bed, not wanting to intrude on her moment with him. Slowly, she turned toward me. Her face crumpled in a wave of grief. I ran around to the side of the bed, knelt down next to her chair, and wrapped myself around her. She let go of Joe’s hand and slumped into my arms.

  I drew her weight down into my lap. She sobbed against my chest until she was hoarse and clenched her fist in my shirt. The intensity of her pain felt dangerously familiar; it mirrored the nearly paralyzing grief I’d felt at various times during my life. It was hard to take, but I had to. She deserved my support. I would be strong for her.

  Some amount of time later, two nurses came in the room to disconnect the equipment. One peered around the end of the bed to where we sat on the floor.

  I nodded to her as I lifted Samantha into my arms and walked us over to the armchair in the corner. I sat and settled Samantha on my lap, then brushed her hair back from her face. Between her tears and the sweat she’d worked up from how hard she’d cried, her face and hair were damp.

  She looked at me and smiled weakly, communicating with one glance all the gratitude and love she felt but couldn’t bring herself to voice in that moment. I kissed her forehead. She pulled the edge of her T-shirt up and wiped her face, then nodded to the nurse.

  “Would you like to have a minute with him first?” the nurse asked.

  Samantha pushed herself off my lap and approached Joe’s bed. I stood up but stayed back. Samantha leaned over and kissed Joe’s cheek. “I love you, Dad. Thank you for taking us in. I hope you know how much I always appreciated that and how much I love you. Say hi to Mom for me.” After a long moment, she stepped back and nodded.

  The nurses disengaged the brake on the bed and wheeled it from the room. When they were gone, Samantha gazed around the nearly empty space. Then she turned and looked at me. “It’s just me now.” Her voice broke. “I’m twenty-six years old, and I’m completely alone.”

  I flew to her, her sadness thick and salty in my mouth. “I know what that feels like, Sam. But I promise you two things. First, you are strong enough to bear this. I know it doesn’t feel like it. But you are. And, second, you are not alone. I will be here for you as long as you’ll let me.”

  She threw her arms around my neck and cried quietly, her breath catching every few moments as she tried to rein in her grief. She held on as if her life depended on it. And, to her, in that moment, it did. She sagged against me, drained from her outpourings of grief.

  “Ssh, dolcezza. I’ve got you. It’ll be all right.” I folded my arms around her body and pulled her in, wanting her to feel me there, to have something solid, unmoving, unchanging, to hold onto. I knew what it felt like to lose your whole family at such a young age.

  She released her grip and stepped b
ack. “I have to tell Ollie. Will you come with me?”

  “You don’t even have to ask.”

  She nodded as equal measures of gratitude and worry rolled off her amidst the sadness. “Let’s go home, then,” she whispered as she took a deep breath and tried to put on a brave face.

  On the drive home, Samantha’s fear about the conversation with Ollie escalated. Sensing she needed a minute to collect herself when we parked, I offered, “Why don’t you go in the house. I’ll get Ollie from Mrs. Johnson’s and bring her over.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Her voice was flat and a little hoarse. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it, then let go and walked toward her door.

  I waited a few minutes to make sure Samantha had the time she needed, then knocked on Mrs. Johnson’s door. Ollie came flying out. I thanked Mrs. Johnson as I picked up Ollie, who wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck.

  “Hi, Lucien.”

  “Hi.”

  “What’s up?” She studied me.

  It wasn’t my place to tell her anything, so I simply kissed her cheek as I walked her back to her house. Samantha was sitting on the couch and held her arms open to Ollie, who ran over and climbed on her lap. I sat next to them.

  “Hi, Mommy.”

  “Hi, baby. How are you?”

  “Okay. How is Grampa?” she asked quietly.

  Samantha took a deep breath. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, sweetie. Do you know how I said Grampa was really sick and might not wake up?” Ollie nodded and twisted a finger in her long hair. “Well, Grampa’s not with us anymore now.”

  “Grampa died?” she whispered.