Paranormal Nights (Paranormal Romance Boxed Set)

by CJ Ellisson

  “Your last name is Barrel Maker?”

  “No. I already told you I don’t have one. But if you insist, you can call me Cooper. A barrel maker is a cooper.”

  “Fine. Miss Cooper. You wanted me out here. You wanted to talk. So I suggest you start talking. The night is not getting any younger. And it is not getting any warmer out here.”

  “You’re a pain in the ass. Did you know that, Darryl Bailes?”

  “Never said different, now did I?”

  She laughed. He was starting to shiver. It affected his words. And his tone. Poor man.

  “Take me inside someplace cozy then.”

  “What?”

  “That was your offer, wasn’t it?”

  “When?”

  “I spare Miss Fancy Pants in there, and you’d take me some place nice. Yes?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I think you also added in small. Supremely…private. And I believe you tossed in cozy. I think I’d like it very cozy.”

  She drew out each word, adding warmth and watching his trembling increase.

  “This is cozy enough,” he replied finally.

  She laughed again.

  “Look Lady. Start talking or I’m walking.”

  “You are a very hard nut to crack, Bailes.”

  “Nobody offered…that.”

  His teeth were starting to chatter. It sounded through the words.

  “Oh come along, Darryl. Stop the hard ass routine. You called the terms. Now live by them.”

  “Why do you think I’m standing out here freezing my ass off? I’m still waiting for you to start talking.”

  “I’m sorry you’re cold. I know the warmest, coziest, little inn…with the biggest, deepest hot tub…”

  “You finished?”

  She laughed again. He was very cute. Quick-witted. Stubborn.

  “You want to get to the point? Before we both freeze?”

  “I’m not remotely cold, Darryl.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  He moved his glance to where her nipples were well outlined by the leather bodice. It took a bit before he moved his view back to her face. Reika’s smile broadened.

  “That isn’t chill,” she informed him.

  “Has to be. You’re wearing half what I am. Maybe less.”

  “I know. But you are not a vampire, Love.”

  He jerked back. Cried out at the move. And then everything on him seemed to react. Reika watched him tighten into a hunk of muscle and anguish as he handled pain she couldn’t conceive. Reika watched it and evaluated. Stupid man. Wonderful man. She’d have his bullet on a necklace before the night was over. She licked her lips. Studied him. And waited.

  “What…do you want…from me?”

  He’d sucked in air for the speech. That probably hurt his teeth. Maybe it helped absorb the other pain. The words were harsh. Clipped. Rude.

  “I already told you. I want a nice cozy intimate spot. I know the perfect one. So. Here’s the deal. You can accompany me nicely. Sit nicely. Maybe even sip a mug of something warm while we…talk. Or, I’ll force it. And we both know I can. Questions?”

  “Why…me?”

  “It’s going to take a long time to answer that one, Bailes. A long time.”

  “Why…now?”

  “You’re flirting with hypothermia,” she told him.

  “Is that…supposed to be…worse?”

  “Tons. Now come along. Be a sport.”

  Reika rose from the snow bank he’d stuck her in; skimmed atop the surface, creating a dust of snow flecks. She did a complete circle about him, just out of reach, while he pivoted to follow her. She finished by lowering gracefully into the spot right in front of him. She wasn’t mistaken. He was cold. And looking at her with very wide, brown eyes.

  “Holy shit. You…can fly?”

  She smirked.

  “You’re…real? I mean you’re a real vampire? I don’t fucking believe it.”

  “I’ve finished warning you, Bailes.”

  “About…what?”

  His entire frame was shaking with cold. Maybe if he hadn’t been so recently arrived from a tropic location, he’d be able to handle the elements for longer. Or maybe if he’d worn more layers. Or maybe, if she hadn’t just shocked him. Didn’t really matter. Reika wasn’t letting him do damage to any bit of that body. And that included frostbite.

  She launched the distance between them, snagged him to her breast, and lifted him, despite his immediate thrashing and resultant grunts of anger. So then she tossed him over her shoulder and for some reason, he ceased moving.

  Men.

  Honestly.

  Chapter Five

  A warm space on a cold night. A fire burning in the fireplace. Sounds of water trickling. Maybe over a fountain. Or a hot tub. There was probably a good stock of bourbon somewhere, too. A woman started humming as he thought of liquor. Some strange tune. Didn’t matter. This was a great dream. Not much could ruin it.

  “You’re awake? Finally?”

  Darryl turned his head. Oh. Great. It was the vampire chick. That was a surefire cure to any dream.

  Only…

  He narrowed his eyes and blinked a couple of times to bring her into focus. She’d been around water. Her hair was darker blond and fashioned into a long braid down her back. She’d also found a change of clothing. Although calling the gossamer gown she wore clothing was being generous. She had the best body he’d ever seen. Especially when glimpsed through light purple material that molded to her, held in place by a knot at each shoulder, and belted with a purple ribbon right beneath really nice sized…

  His body reacted, despite the order not to. And that’s when he knew she’d stolen his clothes, too.

  “Where am I?”

  “My place.”

  Not good. And very good. No. Definitely not good.

  “This was not in the deal.”

  He worked at sounding stern, using his disciplinarian voice from the service. The one every sergeant possessed. It didn’t seem to do much on vampires.

  “Oh…I don’t know. It’s warm. Intimate. Cozy.”

  His body was reacting to each word, sending signals to his dick. And his back injury was actually allowing it. He’d wonder about that later.

  “We had a deal.”

  “I know.”

  “You can’t just change it.”

  “You were unconscious. How was I supposed to ask?”

  “No way. Me? Unconscious?”

  “Yes. You. Call it a faint, if that sounds better.”

  “No, that doesn’t sound better.”

  “It was my fault, I think. I shouldn’t have carried you that way. It cuts off blood to the brain. Or something. I don’t know all the particulars, but trust me. You were unconscious. Made it easier to carry you that way. Garnered less uh…interest.”

  “Oh hell. Don’t tell me somebody saw that.”

  “Only my landlady. And she advised me to have fun tonight before waving me in. By the way…I intend to.”

  Darryl frowned. It didn’t match anything else on his body. And if she were a little nearer, he’d be proving it. And that idea had to end. Now.

  “Who undressed me then?”

  “Oh. I did. It was my pleasure, too. Truly. You are a very well-developed male. Strong. Big.”

  Her voice held a bit of awe. He almost flexed his upper body at what sounded like praise. That was more stupidity. Get a grip, Bailes. This bitch is a vampire. She’s dead. Having sex with her is out of the question. End of story.

  “You put your skin through a lot of trauma, though. Is that a military thing?”

  “Trauma?”

  “You have a lot of…tattoos.”

  “You don’t like my ink?”

  “I didn’t say that. I find them…interesting. Visually stimulating. Physically stirring. Especially the one on your…right side. Beneath your arm. That one.”

  Just the thought of her looking and maybe tracing the rose-wrapped sword design ad
ded something more to the scene. He should be shuddering with revulsion and horror, not tensing with excitement and something very close to desire and want. Why the hell didn’t his body listen?

  “Where are my clothes?”

  His voice was gruff. Thick. Hard. It matched the rest of him. He’d have pulled the hand-made, pieced quilt to his chin, except the wad of material at his groin was good camouflage.

  She walked through the space between him and the fire, the light molded on creamy flesh and really ripe breasts. Darryl rolled onto his side, ignoring the twinge of his old injury, to keep her in view. She reached a large, carved, free-standing wardrobe. Opened both doors, pulled out a dowel holding a row of shirts, another dowel appeared to hold a selection of large sized jackets, and then she slid out a drawer to lift pair after pair of slacks before replacing them.

  He couldn’t tell. Something in there might be the outfit he’d been wearing.

  “I just need mine, Lady,” he said.

  “These are all yours.”

  “Bullshit. With a capital B.”

  “I bought them just for you. Trust me.”

  “Look. Lady.”

  He sat up. That was probably a mistake. He hadn’t kept the quilt for protection, he hadn’t lost his six-pack from the service – if anything due to his extreme physical therapy sessions it was more defined, and he hadn’t counted on going on display in the firelight. He watched her eyes narrow and then she licked her lips. And then she shuddered. All of it extremely visual. And stirring. He should probably look at something else. And if he trusted her, he would.

  “They don’t carry my size in any shops around here.”

  “Oh. No. Not up here. I had these special ordered. Express delivered.”

  “Special ordered. Express.”

  “Yes. From that night in Columbia. Where we met…”

  Her voice took on a dream-tone, going lower. Softer. Sending signals his body didn’t have any trouble deciphering. He pulled muscles taut to stop the flow of blood downward. It didn’t work. He was elongating and hardening, and finding sexual stimuli from where the quilt cradled him. He almost shoved deeper into it. No wonder Grandmas put these on their own beds. He had to clear his throat to get his voice to work.

  “You don’t know my size.”

  “47 Chest. 33 Waist. 16-1/2 neck. 35-1/2 sleeve. 36 Inseam. How am I doing?”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “Are you ready to talk yet?”

  She went across his vision again, and sat on the foot of the bed, just this side of grabbing range. Her thighs spread slightly with the move, looking more than feminine, and then God help him, she pulled her legs up and crossed them, pooling the violet-shaded gown into the well of space she’d created.

  Shit.

  Darryl jerked his eyes away, fixing somewhere over her head. Forced his vision to focus on the wall behind her. The stonework. The logs. The oil painting of a rustic cabin somewhere in the Alps. Anything but her.

  He was losing. He just didn’t know how badly. Maybe she didn’t either.

  “What do you want to talk about?” he asked the painting.

  “Mating.”

  His entire form lurched at least an inch off the bed before dropping back. The jolt of his spine hurt. Not enough. He felt a flush spread all through him, starting at his chest and moving outward. Heating him as it went. Sending physical signs that he couldn’t control. Mating. The word was primal-sounding. Territorial. Primitive. Barbaric. And incredibly rousing.

  He’d never dealt with such lust. Craving. Need. He put a hand atop his cock beneath the quilt and just held it there, keeping the information to himself.

  “In particular…true mates.”

  “True mates?” His voice warbled. Maybe she wouldn’t know why.

  “Yes. It’s a phenomenon some species get to experience. They mate for life. Eagles, for instance.”

  “Eagles.”

  He moved his eyes back to hers. It wasn’t purposefully. It was like she was a magnet and he was steel. She had spectacular eyes. Deep. Light violet shaded. Mysterious. Pools of purple liquid. Filled with desire. His dick pulsed at his palm. He pressed back.

  “I’m not explaining it well…but I never believed it. Not until now.”

  “Believed what?”

  “The mating thing. Two beings destined and meant for each other. Through eternity.”

  Holy shit. His brain was reacting in absolute horror and denial, but his rod just was not connected, or something. That portion of his anatomy was getting antsy, and even harder. Darryl licked his lips. Spoke. Sounded like a truck backfiring.

  “You think…I’m your mate?”

  Sweet. He could actually make a sentence. And it wasn’t nonsensical gibberish.

  She nodded.

  “How can a dead thing have a mate? I mean…you are dead, right?”

  “I was.”

  “Was?”

  Good. That only required one word. And it came out intelligible. It was the best he could do. His body wasn’t obeying. It couldn’t. It was gripped in what had to be lust. Craven, mind-blowing lust. Carnal pleasure lust. Rock hard and red-hot lust. Grab her and shove that piece of material she wore up, and bury deep into her, lust. And she just sat there, watching him with unblinking, perfectly shaped, purple eyes. Darryl pursed his lips as though deep in thought and pressed a little harder on his groin.

  “I’ve been a vampire for a long time. We’re cursed. You know what that means?”

  “Well, yeah. I’ve…seen movies.”

  Lame, Darryl.

  “I don’t mean that. I mean – immortality isn’t living forever. It’s more a state resembling real death. Or…animated death. It’s cold and emotionless. There aren’t any physical sensations. No emotions. No feelings. No…um. Passions.”

  Passions.

  The word came out with just enough volume to keep it above a whisper. She lowered her eyes and dusted her cheeks with her lashes as if embarrassed to say it, too. And damn it all. The word sent fuel right to his dick, as if it was a sensor for catching vibes, and incapable of being censored by the rest of him.

  “I was told this immortality came with a codicil. I was young. I didn’t understand.”

  “Codicil?”

  She blushed. His entire groin reacted, pumping his cock against his hand, while his body shuddered with the restriction he placed on it. He was not reaching for her. He was not moving an inch of that fabric aside. He was not moving. He refused. He was staying right here and avoiding contact with her. Eleven years of discipline and training were the only things holding him back. Every muscle on his body was a demonstration of it. He’d never put such a tight rein on himself. And she just sat there. Observing. Adding to his torment.

  “The codicil is like the fine print that nobody reads.”

  “You made a deal with the devil and you didn’t expect fine print?” The tight rein was slipping. It sounded in his voice. He should have kept to short answers.

  “I’m a vampire, Darryl. Not a devil. They’re worlds apart.”

  “You suck blood, don’t you? You took mine. Sounds pretty satanic to me.”

  She smiled. He lurched, jostled the bullet, groaned, and settled back into the same spot. And she was watching the entire time. Waiting. As if she knew what he suffered. And the cure.

  “You’re right. We feed. We suck blood. But it’s nothing like what happened when I bit you.”

  Darryl looked up. Above the wall. Toward the ceiling this time. This was a really cozy room. The ceiling was maybe seven feet above the floor, and painted white with wide dark stained wooden beams intersecting the space. Shadows were bouncing about the beams from her fireplace. The view was pretty innocuous. And his voice might work.

  “I don’t know if I can explain. I can try.”

  “Do you have to?”

  He probably got what was a snicker. He didn’t look down to check. And, then she started speaking again.

  “I’ve never felt like
that. Actually…I’ll backtrack. I can’t remember feeling. I couldn’t. That’s the codicil. Become a vampire and you’ll get a never-ending cycle of days followed by nights to spend on nothing. Time passes. Perceptions change. You start to understand that material things haven’t much value because time is a great equalizer. That’s all a vampire has. Time. Endless. Blank. Boring. Only one thing changes that. Finding our mate. A-a-and then everything changes. Things…alter. Weird things…happen. Parts…reanimate. Regenerate. They come alive. Or something.”

  Now, she was whispering. And stuttering. And sounding altogether virginal and young and shy.

  “You’re my mate, Darryl.”

  “How about I just say no.”

  Avoiding looking at her wasn’t working. Nothing was. He took a deep breath and looked down. She’d moved. She was on her hands and knees, and right at his side, her mouth inches from his. And all he could envision was locking lips and tangling tongues. This was heading from weird to he’d be looking for a priest in the morning, if he didn’t do something to stop it. That’s when Darryl realized his stupidity. He had the means to counteract whatever spell she was weaving. It was already encased within him. Pain could kick any desire for copulating. Easily. He pulled in both buttocks and held tight, waiting for the familiar burn to course his legs, rendering them pretty much useless. He got pain all right. He also got another full dose of hand-sewn quilt where he least needed it. And for some reason, lust even tempered the pain. And then overrode it.

  “You can say no. That doesn’t change it.”

  She licked her lips after that and moved closer. She had spike-tipped fangs just starting to dent the plump shape of her lower lip. It should scare the hell out of him. It didn’t. It sent his raging get-the-dress-off-her lust even higher. He wanted to be deep in her. Buried. Pumping. As if he still could.

  “Look…uh. Lady. I…I have to tell you something.”

  “Can I get you to call me Reika? Please?”

  She could get him to call her just about anything. Darryl bit back the instant reply. He couldn’t fight this. All he wanted was to react. But he had to tell her. If he was her mate, and she only got sex if it was with him, she was getting the raw end of this deal. And in a moment it was going to be obvious.