Paranormal Nights (Paranormal Romance Boxed Set)

by CJ Ellisson

  “There. Jeff texted me for a booty call.”

  “You hate Jeff.”

  “I changed my mind. Jeff to the rescue!”

  “Come on, Chér, no Jeff. You bitched and whined the last time you hooked up.”

  “It’ll be different this time.”

  “You always say that.”

  “One of these times, I’ll be right.”

  “Puh-lease. He only wants to hook up with you when his girlfriend dumps him. Then, he’ll get his rocks off with you, make her mad, she’ll relent, pull him back, blah, blah, blah. He likes the drama and you get off on the abuse. Honestly! We’ve been over this a thousand times. You always end up feeling cheap and used.”

  “I’m stronger now.”

  “Really?”

  “I only want him for sex.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Chérie heard the sarcasm dripping through the phone. “Okay, maybe not.” She stared at her phone, thumbed the keyboard and hit send. “I told him no.” She sighed.

  “Good girl. So when are you seeing Cam again?”

  “Tonight. I texted him and told him my class had been cancelled. He said great because he finished his studies early.”

  “See? Destiny’s unfolding.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “Maybe nothing. This one’s going to be perfect, I can already tell.”

  “We’ll see. Anyway…I’ve got to start getting ready. We’re meeting for drinks first.”

  “Excellent. Have fun! And I want all the juicy deets tomorrow, got it?”

  “Got it.”

  After Chérie hung up the phone, she traipsed into her closet to look for clothes. Mac and Jack, who cautiously snuck back into the room, followed.

  What’s so special about this one? Mac asked.

  The cats were brothers. They shared a simple, psychic sympatico connection with her. They shared their thoughts with her, she responded - simple. Sometimes she communicated silently, sometimes she spoke. Either way, the connection was clear and strong.

  I don’t know. Maybe nothing. I really like him.

  We could use a man around here. A cat door could be nice. Then we could go in and out, instead of having to wait for you to get home, Jack added.

  So you think I’m not capable of installing a cat door?

  I don’t see one. Do you? Mac leapt onto the bed.

  Doesn’t mean I can’t. She scanned her closet. “Nothing too fancy. This top’s nice.” She held up a supple faux suede number, the kind that clung to every curve. “Sexy, but not over the top sexy. This, my new leather boots and Levis and I’ll be set. He did call it a casual date. He promised something bigger after he gets paid. A date, date….”

  Are you expecting a response? Jack joined his brother on the bed, reaching out to lick his head. You’re hair’s filthy.

  Mac bit his ear. Stop saying that! I wash it daily, like you!

  “No, I’m talking to myself. And stop picking on each other. You’re both as clean as a whistle.”

  The pair leapt from the bed, ignoring her.

  When she finished dressing, she appraised herself in the mirror. “Not bad for someone with the body of a greyhound. Maybe he wants more curves.” She frowned. “Well, nothing I can do about that.” She spied lip balm on the counter. “I wonder if he likes coconut. Why not?” She dabbed some on her lips, took a deep breath and headed for the front door, tucking the round tin of lip soother in the pocket of her jeans.

  Chapter Nine

  Cam drummed the steering wheel nervously. When she texted him, saying she could meet tonight, he’d been stoked. Now? Not so sure. I should really be focused on school. Stay away from the ladies for a while. As he headed toward the bar where they agreed to meet, he swung by the mini-mart, dashed from the Land Rover and bought a fresh pack of cigarettes. And mouthwash. Okay, and some toothpaste. And a toothbrush. He had a good thirty minutes before their meeting time. He’d have time to decontaminate his mouth before he met her. If she said anything, he could tell her it was the leftover smell from his earlier slip up. While at the store, he also bought a pack of Trojan Magnums.

  Not wanting to light up in the car - a sure fire giveaway if she came back to his car - he drove toward the park near the bar. He could soothe his nerves, use the bathroom to sweeten his breath and come out smelling minty fresh. He glanced at the undulating tree tops. Good. There’s a breeze. It will keep my clothes from smelling like an ashtray.

  He parked the vehicle near the green space, grabbed the smokes, hopped out and tore the cellophane from the pack. He cupped his hands around his face, lit up, and inhaled deeply, facing into the light wind. Nature’s air freshener. Fresh air. He guffawed at his own joke. So what’s my problem, anyway? It’s not like I’ve never dated. Hell, I can hook up with a girl as easy as I can drive this truck. He shook his head. He’d had so many girls he’d lost count. When he partied back in the day, he used to do one, two, five a night. Usually the next morning, the only memory he had about the previous night occurred when he got out of bed and stepped on used condoms, dirty socks and someone’s forgotten panties. He’d been on a mission to oblivion, to erase his abusive past.

  As before, his hand trembled as he brought the smoke to his lips. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Get a grip.” He strove to the park bench and plunked on the seat. As he sat, the wind tossing his hair around his face, the act of smoking helped to soothe his nerves. Better. I can do this, he decided. He’d almost finished his cig when a woman called to him.

  “Pretty dirty trick you played on me today.”

  Fuck. It’s Britt. He stubbed the cigarette out in the grass and stared at her. “Where’s your fiancé?”

  “He’s at work.”

  “Kind of late to be working.”

  “He works downtown at Dayton, Reardon and Sons. They’re very busy this time of year.” She planted her hands on her hips.

  “Sounds like a funeral parlor. A lot of dead coming in?”

  “Very funny. It’s an accounting firm.”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed?” He spread his arms out on both sides of him, resting them along the top of the park bench.

  Britt settled on the bench, very close to him. So close he smelled the perfume she always wore. Jardin Sur Le Something. Jardin Sur Le Shit. He removed his arm from the bench and scooted away from her. “What the hell do you want now?”

  “I saw the way you looked at me.”

  “With disdain? With relief you found someone?”

  “With desire. You still want me.”

  “Oh, come on, Britt. Leave it be. We had some fun and then we were done. You wanted commitment. I didn’t. And now you’re engaged to be married.”

  “Martin doesn’t satisfy me the way you do.”

  “Did,” Cam corrected. “Past tense.”

  “We had something amazing.” She scooted closer.

  “We had something that needed to end.” He unfolded from the bench and turned to walk away.

  “Don’t say that. I know you still want me.” She stood and reached for his arm.

  He brushed her away. “Don’t want you. Don’t.”

  Her eyes grew moist and teary. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Cam.”

  Cam rolled his eyes. “I’ve got to go, Britt. I’ve got a date with someone I’m really, really interested in.”

  Her eyes formed narrow slits. “We’re not done.” She reached for his shirt, clutching the faded blue cotton.

  He pried her fingers from the fabric. “Yes, we are.”

  “No!” she cried.

  “Britt, you’re engaged to be married. Married. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Martin’s not you! We don’t have what you and I had.”

  “It means you stand a chance. We used each other. We fucked. It seems like Martin really cares about you.”

  “He does. But he does nothing for me. He’s not you!”

  Her eyes looked kind of wild. Is she bipolar? “I’m leaving now, Brit
t. Going. Bye-bye. Be well. Have a good life with Martin. You deserve a good life, really you do.” Cam backed away from her, keeping his guard up.

  Britt lunged at him, planting her mouth on his.

  He struggled for a moment before shoving her away. As he wiped the back of his hand along his mouth, he looked up to see a VW slowly passing by the park, with a beautiful, fire-haired woman at the wheel. Shit! Chérie. He raced for his Land Rover, not caring a whit about what Britt did or didn’t do, as long as it didn’t involve him.

  Chapter Ten

  Chérie’s mood lifted when she drove her car up NE 80th. It soared when she turned onto 20th Ave NE. Flew sky high like a beautiful red and gold winged phoenix when she veered up NE 82nd. And, when she passed the park, crashed like an airplane missing the landing strip and colliding into a nearby house. He’s kissing someone! There’s Cam and he’s kissing someone. She immediately turned the corner and headed for home.

  She pounded the steering wheel with her palm. “I’m such an idiot! Why did I think this time would be different?” She pressed Zuri’s speed dial digit.

  “Hello?”

  Z sounded sleepy. Either that, or high. Probably the latter, knowing Z. “Hey, Z. False alarm.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I passed the park on 82nd and I saw Cam lip locked with another chick.”

  “Oh, honey. Are you sure?”

  “Yep. I’m sure. I saw his Range Rover parked along the street. Same guy. Oh, well. At least I didn’t get my heart invested in the game before he dumped me.” Not much anyway. I only thought he was The One. Fresh fury rolled through her gut, making her white knuckle the steering wheel.

  “Want to come over? I’ve got some time before Devon arrives for our play date.”

  “I’d love to. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay? You’ve got stuff to get drunk with, right? Not your drugs.”

  “Alcohol at the ready. I’ll be here.”

  Chérie tapped the connection off and tossed it on the seat. A few minutes later it rang. She glanced at the caller ID. Cam Tyson. Not going to happen. She swiped the button, Tell caller you are unavailable. “For the rest of your life!” she yelled at the Smart Phone. A text message blipped a few seconds later. “Go fuck yourself!” she yelled at the screen. Her eyes flicked to the phone.

  Booty call? Still available.

  Jeff. Chérie immediately rang Z. “Zuri? I changed my mind. I’m going home to chill a bit.”

  “Seriously? I think you need some company.”

  “Nope, I thought about it and I’m fine. Better than fine. I’m glad I got the message before my heart got the boot.”

  “Well, okay. You do sound better than you did a minute ago.”

  “Yep, fine.” Chérie listened as Z inhaled noisily. She probably took another hit off her joint.

  “You call me if you change your mind.”

  “I’m good. Honestly. Who’s going to be your minion tonight?”

  “A guy named Devon. He says he wants it hard and dirty. Something about blind-folded, OTK, gagged, CP, legs bound…I don’t know, I wrote it somewhere.”

  “Sounds like some medical terms mixed in there. You going to be playing doctor?”

  “What? OTK? That’s over the knee. He wants to be spanked. CP means corporal punishment.”

  Chérie blushed. “It’s okay, Z, I don’t need the details.”

  “I’ve got a couple of hours before play time.”

  “No, Z,” Chérie huffed into the phone. “But thanks.”

  When Z disconnected, Chérie texted Jeff. On my way. She hooked a U-turn and sped toward his house in the U-district as the skies yielded to nightfall.

  When she arrived, she slipped through the barely illumined back gate, like she always did. He’d asked her to never use the front door. Okay…kind of odd, but she’d been doing it ever since, no questions. She picked her way along the sidewalk lining the house. Porch lights lit the back yard. His big dog barreled around the corner, letting out a flurry of barks, causing her to shriek. Why doesn’t he keep that thing on a chain? She shoved the dog away from her, brushing away mud and leaves. When she got to the back door, she tentatively knocked.

  “Yo!” the male voice called. “Enter!”

  She eased open the door to his darkened bedroom. “Jeff?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “Getting ready for you.”

  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark room. When she could see, her gaze landed on Jeff, lying naked on his bed, his hand vigorously working his erection.

  “All set. Come here, quick.”

  “Don’t you want to talk for a minute?”

  He snorted. “When do we talk? It’s a booty call, not tea.” He released his erection and squeezed his balls, groaning. “Close call. You got here just in time.” He glanced at her. “Take off your clothes and get comfortable.”

  “Looks like you’re doing fine without me.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Get naked and get over here.”

  “That’s what foreplay’s for.”

  “Crap, Chérie. Stop all the chit chat. You know what I like.”

  What about what I like? A stab of pain shot through her heart. She shot a cold, dead gaze at Jeff and proceeded to undress. When she’d removed the last piece of clothing, she folded them and placed them all in a neat little pile on the chair next to the bed.

  “Quit stalling. Lay down.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed.

  He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back. “I said, lay down.” He climbed on top of her, pushing open her legs with his knees. He proceeded to pull and tug at her nipples.

  The way Jeff manhandled her breasts, Chérie felt like bread dough. “Don’t you want to kiss me?” Chérie envisioned Cam’s mouth on hers.

  “Nah. This is good.”

  Not for me, Chérie thought. She drifted into a cloud of mental, disconnecting from the room, from Jeff, from her body.

  Jeff reached behind her head and snatched a foil packet from the side stand. He ripped it open and rolled it on. He extended his arm again and retrieved a bottle of lube. He flipped it, dripped it and tossed it next to her face.

  The cool plastic made her flinch.

  Grabbing his manhood, he slid it brusquely against her before parking it inside. “Yeah,” he uttered. “Oh, yeah.”

  Chérie felt like a blow up doll. Her arms and legs stiff. Face froze. This wasn’t fun or mutual in any way shape or form - unless you counted being used.

  Jeff rocked his hips. He pumped. He pumped faster. His excitement seemed to be building. Some strange tune sounded.

  “Is your phone ringing?”

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m not worried.” She tried to smile. At least he’s not answering it.

  Jeff’s body arched a second later. He grunted and thrust, climaxing. He collapsed across Chérie’s body and threw his arm out to pick up the still ringing phone. “Yeah,” he said, breathless.

  A woman’s voice trilled through the phone.

  “Yep. She’s here. I told you what I’d do if you broke up with me.”

  Uh, hello, she’s under your body and can’t breathe, Chérie thought.

  “Don’t cry, Deb. Come on. I hate it when you cry.”

  Chérie shoved him off of her, squirming and kicking. His sweaty, smelly body slid from hers like an oily snake. The condom slid off him as he exited and stuck to her thigh. She picked it off with her short fingernails and flung it across the room.

  Jeff rolled away and sat at the edge of the bed. “Baby, don’t. We can work it out. Please don’t cry.” He hunched across his thighs, gripping the phone. “Shh, baby, shh. We can work this out.”

  As Chérie opened the door, Jeff stuck his hand over the receiver. “Thanks, Chér. See ya next time, cool?”

  “Not if I can help it,” she said, slamming the door behind her.

  She climbed in her car, ice cold and numb. Her
body moved all weird and zombie-like. She picked up her phone and stared at it. Can’t call Zuri. She’ll kill me. There were six text messages. She flipped through them, one by one. They were all from Cam. She read “I can…” and “Give me a chance…” and “Please…” before deleting each one. Tears stung her eyes. I’m such an idiot. She sat in the dark, silently weeping, overloaded with shame and sorrow, as Jeff’s girlfriend zipped up next to the sidewalk, parked and ran through the front door without even knocking.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What a waste of a body exchange,” Kayden snarled. “Why did I bother?” He brushed his arms again, as if trying to rid himself of the disease of Jill. “Now look what’s happened.”

  “You did say she has free will, my lord,” Alpha commented.

  Kayden didn’t respond. He watched the images flashing across the wall. Chérie’s humiliation. Chérie’s tragic sorrow. He groaned, a terrible, anguished animal sound emerging from his throat. “Why does she do this? Why, oh, why, oh why? Does she not love me? Does she not know she is love itself? Why does she submit us both to this?”

  Alpha regarded the ka with soft eyes. She’d rested silently on the bed while he stroked the memories of his lover. She’d witnessed the depth of his caring. She hadn’t been able to move, actually. The atmosphere had become so charged she’d been afraid any movement on her part would have broken the spell. He’d been giving her the most profound gift he could give by letting her stay.

  This moment, too, felt like part of the gift but far more torturous. “I don’t believe she’s doing this to you, my lord.”

  The image of Chérie sobbing in her car shone upon the back wall like they were watching a movie.

  “She does appear heartbroken, my lord.”

  “I feel, sense, and breathe every emotion she has. There’s not a thought that flits through her brain, a breath she takes that isn’t experienced by me.” Once again, his eyes grew moist. “Even though she forgets who she is, she has to retain the awareness of our connection. I can’t take it.”

  Again the anguished cry emerged. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced in a focused, pointed march toward meaning.