Alphas Unwrapped: 21 New Steamy Paranormal Tales of Shifters, Vampires, Werewolves, Dragons, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More

by Michele Bardsley

  “Let me finish,” he said, chastising me gently. “Ye see, my brother, who is the acting king until his coronation—”

  “Your brother put you in prison?” I interrupted him again.

  “Aye then, right to it, is that what ye want? Well then, lass, yes, I am accused of killing m’father,” he said. I heard the break in his strong voice, the anguish in the words, and immediately knew he was innocent. My senses were on the alert, and my other-worldly senses are usually right-on.

  Even so, I asked, “Did you? Did you kill your father?” I didn’t want my judgment clouded by the fact that I was completely and totally attracted to him on more levels I had even thought possible.

  “No, I loved m’da with all m’heart. And why would I? I am the second son. The kingdom doesn’t come to me, but to m’brother.”

  “Did your brother kill him to become king … and frame you?” I have always been direct. Now was no time for walking on eggshells. I was talking to a guy from another world through a mirror in mine, for goodness sakes.

  “Francis? No … oh no, ye don’t know m’brother. He is all a king should be. True and honest and caring. Never would he do such a thing.”

  “But he believes you did?” My eyebrow went up. How could his brother believe him guilty, when I, a total stranger, could not? Could I be wrong?

  “I don’t believe he really thinks me guilty, but the evidence pointed itself at me. He had no choice but to follow the law and imprison me until things could be sorted out. I went willingly because he asked it of me.”

  “What evidence are we talking about?” I asked.

  “For one, my brother’s new bride, Tanna, said she saw me stab m’father.” He shook his head. “I was leaning over him … aye, and because of it, I had his blood on me, but she saw no such thing.”

  “Why would she lie? What is her agenda in this?”

  “Och aye, she has one, but Francis adores her … and will hear nothing against her.”

  “She will be queen … beside your brother,” I said. “Does she love your brother?”

  He raised one of his beautiful brows and said, “No, Tanna loves power.”

  His contempt for his sister-in-law was a palpable thing. “You suspect her, don’t you? Could she have overpowered and killed your father?”

  “No, but her lover, Blakely, could have.”

  “Her lover? But you said ‘new bride’ … wow.” I took this all in. “So we know she’s already cheating on him and lying.”

  “Calico, yer belief in me does m’heart—”

  I cut him off. “Witch here. I have a knack for seeing the truth of things. I know you didn’t kill your father. You feel guilty because you didn’t see it coming … You feel guilty because you weren’t there to protect him … Those are the vibes I get from you—nothing more.”

  “Are ye an empath?”

  “No, thank goodness, I am not, but even so, I can pick up on certain vibes people give off, and yours,” I answered carefully, “… are strong.” I wasn’t sure how much I wanted him to know about my abilities. “The question on our table is how do we prove your innocence?”

  “Thankfully, I do have friends working on that, but I need to escape because I don’t trust Blakely to allow it to go to trial. The moment I was put in my cell, I created a portal … a type the Council had not anticipated I was capable of erecting. However, in order for my portal to work, it needed a doorway. I began a probe—a search if ye will—for an artifact that would allow me to open a doorway, and I discovered your mirror. The odd thing is, I can’t be certain if I discovered the mirror … or it discovered me.” He frowned and then threw up his hands. “As ye know,” he said, grinning at me, “I finally got through, but the Council’s magic ward around my cell pulled me back into the prison.”

  “And you need to be free so you can investigate and find the real killer,” I said to myself as much as to him. I clucked my tongue. “How is it your brother isn’t trying harder to clear you?”

  “His bride stands between us. Who does he believe—her or me? She said she saw me stab my father. I told him she is either mistaken or lying. He is torn, but I know Francis, and he knows me well enough to absolutely understand in his heart that I could never hurt our father. I am certain he is quietly investigating on his own. It is just that he is, let’s say, influenced at the moment by his love for her. He has, I believe, put it down to Tanna being mistaken. But he has to prove my innocence, and my friends can’t risk telling him what they are doing, as they and I don’t wish Tanna to know.”

  “Right … so, we need to get you out of your prison cell,” I said and started to pace. “Why did you go to see your father?” I asked after a long moment of silence.

  “I received a note telling me to meet him.”

  “So you can prove that at least, by producing the note. Let’s figure out who wrote it, because obviously it was a set-up and won’t be in your father’s hand.” I asked myself why I was so invested in this situation. This wasn’t my problem. I had my own problems to navigate. I had Warren Dreede lurking about ever-ready and looking for me.

  “The note vanished. Don’t ye see, lass … we are all wizards. Our realm is a land of magic. What makes m’family rulers is the fact that we were born to it. Something in our genes makes us more powerful than all other Morelakes.” He ran a hand through his luxurious, shiny black hair, “M’father never approved of Tanna—I didn’t know why—but I disliked her on sight as well. Now I know the reason—not only does she not love m’brother, but she practices the dark arts, which is forbidden by law here in Morelake. M’brother was besotted—he never saw past her pretty flirtation.”

  “Your brother sounds like an idiot,” I said.

  “Well, as I said, lovesick, so I suppose he is.” He chuckled in spite of the seriousness of his situation.

  “Okay, we have to find a way of getting past the wards. For every spell, there is another, better one. Just give me a little time, and I will figure it out,” I told him.

  He eyed me a moment. “What are ye, lass? Not just a witch as ye say. Ye are more … I feel ye are a great deal more, and there is something familiar about ye, though what it is I can’t put m’finger on.”

  “No? Well, neither can I,” I answered and sucked in my bottom lip.

  Suddenly he turned away from me, saying low and intensely, “Shut down, Calico. Someone comes.”

  I waved my wand and said softly, “Dun … dun … dun.” Which simply means close. I watched the mirror turn blue for a moment and then return to its clear-glass, ‘normal’ form.

  For a long while I just stood staring and wondering if Brodie of Morelake was okay. And wondering why should I care so much, for the fact was, I did. I did care.

  Something in him spoke to something in me, and all my instincts indicated that he had really told me the truth from the start. Truth means a great deal to me. I would rather be told the worst truth and deal with it than to get a sucker punch down the line.

  Chapter Three

  THE REST OF the evening was uneventful. I meandered around the house, trying to figure out what shit I had stepped into and how I should clean it up. I settled finally in the library, thumbing over a shelf of ancient manuscripts.

  Many were in Gaelic, and as I skimmed through the pages I was surprised how well I could read the arcane form of Gaelic. It was very similar to my native language; where that ‘native realm’ was, however, I hadn’t a clue.

  I made one more visit to the mirror, but I didn’t get a whiff of magic from it and no hint of blue. I didn’t dare open it for fear of alerting someone should they be there with the prince.

  I trudged back to the library, and to keep busy I started making a list of things I needed from town, but that was done too quickly. Bored, I hunkered down to watch TV, silently thanking Lyla for installing satellite.

  I channel surfed—nothing interested me.

  I knew why. All I could think of was Brodie, his kiss, his troubles, my troubles. Fi
nally, restless, I took a stroll outside.

  The abbey was situated in a little more than fifteen acres of land, so we were very private. As I hugged my wool-lined denim jacket, I sucked in the wonderful fresh air.

  The green of Ireland had a delicious scent all its own.

  Witches draw a great deal of their magic from nature. Wind, earth, water, and fire. I felt replenished after my walk and clear-headed.

  Back to the library I went and turned on the TV again.

  My thoughts, however, wouldn’t allow me to concentrate on the show. What good was all my magic if I couldn’t help someone in trouble? But if I worked to help him, would it—my magic—draw Warren Dreede to me? There was always the danger that he could track my magic.

  I had my own problems. I shouldn’t be so wrapped up in a prince from another world … but …?

  Lyla always said I was a sap.

  Since childhood I was forever finding and bringing her birds who’d needed repair or a stray cat or dog who needed a home. At one point we had three dogs, a turtle, a frog, and two cats.

  Lyla finally put her foot down and began finding homes for the strays I collected. Time and age took the pets we’d kept, who of course had already had years behind them when I found them. I missed them all. Was this just me, finding another stray?

  But he wasn’t a stray, was he? He was a big and beautiful man—no, a wizard prince—who had lost his father to a murderer who wanted him to pay for a crime he had not committed. We had to clear him, because I had no doubt that if we didn’t, his brother, Francis, was next in the sights of that murderer’s line of vision.

  What could I do?

  Something. I knew it deep in my gut. I could do something. The answer was somewhere in my head. It was in one of the compartments I had been ignoring for too long.

  Dealing with problems head-on is another thing I do, something Lyla taught me early on, and the time had come to deal.

  Right, let’s do a step by step. One: open the portal, but …

  I couldn’t just go open the portal to his prison chamber for fear that I might do so when a guard or someone else might be around. I was desperate to know what had happened to him, but I had to be careful.

  However, might there be a cloaking spell I could use? Could I go in and use my magic to get him out? Could I cloak us both?

  The ward would pull him back.

  Right. Step two: deal with the ward.

  I sat on the floor of the library and closed my eyes. I had to be more other-worldly Calico and let go of the human I really wasn’t. I reminded myself of what I had always felt was the awful truth: I. Was. Not. Human. Plain and simple. I was a potent witch from another world. I had powers untold.

  The truth was there. It had always been there, staring me right in the face.

  I wasn’t human. The time for pretending was over. Being human was limiting me, and if I wanted to help Brodie of Morelake, I had to be who I was.

  The time of wanting to be like everyone else was over. That teenager was all grown up and ready to take on … whatever!

  Other-worldly me woke up. I had now less than two months before I reached my majority, when no doubt I would be even more magically equipped than I was now, but for now—and a grin ran away with my face—I was pretty well-armed!

  And like the proverbial light, the answer came as a glowing beacon, screaming, What the hell are you waiting for?

  Chapter Four

  WANDS ATTACH THEMSELVES to the witches they serve. Ebony had always been mine. It was as though she were an extension of my hand. Yes, she. I had always sensed femininity about Ebony. She was beautifully black and warm and had a personality all her own. At the moment, I had her in my grip and pointed at the mirror. I was safely cloaked with a shield of invisibility, so I opened the portal into Brodie’s prison chamber. Was I scared? Damn straight, I was scared, but I had an overriding need to get to him. So, yeah, I stepped right on in.

  It was like a medieval dungeon, dank and dimly lit, but I saw him at once, lying on a cot of sorts across the ten by ten cell. He was lying face down.

  His back was bare and bloodied. Someone had no regard for the fact that he was a prince. Slashes that could only have been made by a magical whip crisscrossed his flesh.

  The scent of dark magic was all around him. Someone had used dark magic to inflict these wounds. How had they restrained him? How?

  The use of such force would mean these wounds would not heal quickly—at least, not without help. He groaned and must have sensed someone there, as he tried lifting his head.

  I felt a well of anger threaten my composure. I controlled it. Only a steady head and hand would be of any use. I wasn’t here for politics, revenge, or anything more than getting him out of his prison. That meant I had to heal him first.

  Early on, I’d discovered I had limited healing abilities.

  I went to him, stuck my wand into my jeans at my back, bent in, and put my palms on his welts and open cuts.

  I couldn’t cure Lyla. I can’t cure people I love of disease or even the common cold, but I have found over the years that I have the ability to heal open wounds and even broken bones.

  I felt the heat from my palms accumulate into a small, potent ball. That ball glowed as I rubbed it over all his wounds. I was surprised as he started healing faster than I thought possible.

  Deep gashes in his flesh began to vanish. The healing ball (as I think of it) got smaller in size as it did its work, and very soon all that was left of his injuries was dried blood.

  All the while, I had been looking through his six-foot-high barred door to the wide hall that led out of the dungeon. His was the only prison cell there. Only one way out, down that hallway to wherever it led.

  A dungeon? I shook my head. I had assumed the prince’s world was modern, even high-tech, and here we were in a dungeon?

  Brodie stirred, and I said, “Are you feeling better? I sure hope so, Princey, because I don’t know how much time I have before I lose my ability to remain cloaked.”

  “Calico?” he said. “I can hear ye … feel ye near … but I can’t see ye.”

  “Good thing, because if you could, so could someone else. Luckily, they don’t have a guard posted. Why is that?”

  “They don’t need one. My magic is contained by the wards around the cell. Not one ward, but two.”

  “Well, hell then, we gotta get you out of this cell,” I said, smiling at him. He looked so darn defeated.

  “Aye,” he said, sitting up, “but the thing is, the wards will pull me back.” He stretched, and I had to fight to keep from licking my lips.

  Standing up, he put out his hand for mine and said, “I can’t see ye, love, but let me feel ye.”

  I put my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. I only meant it to be reassuring, but instead sparks of sensation scurried through me. I ignored them, dropped his hand, and hurried to tell him, “No, they won’t pull you back. The magic holding you here wasn’t designed with me in mind.”

  He laughed. “What does that mean, lass?”

  “It means it was designed to pull you back, yes, but it can’t if my magic takes you elsewhere. That isn’t in its scope. These wards are designed with your abilities, your magic, in mind. Mine is way different. So, we jump a small distance out of the cell, and then my portal, not yours, takes us to my place. See?”

  He frowned. “I do … but I need to be able to get back here. I have to—”

  “And so you will, when you must, but on your terms. Look, Prince. I can’t undo the wards without knowing what specific spell was used, but I can use my magic to get you in and out when you need.”

  “Right, then.”

  We both heard the scraping of leather on stone. Someone had a slight limp, I realized as I listened. I whispered, “Okay, we gotta go.” I thought for a minute. “What’s on the other side of the back wall?”

  “The prison courtyard,” he said thoughtfully. “What are ye going to do?”

  In the midst
of all this I thought how I loved his accent. I rolled my eyes at myself, grateful that he couldn’t see me, and said, “Use a little magic for our first jump.”

  He put out a hand in my direction, and I took his fingers. He said softly, “Then ye best do it, Calico lass, for I fear someone is nearly here.”

  A quick incantation, and we were outside.

  Yeah, prison courtyard, I thought as we stood outdoors and discovered it was pouring rain in his part of the world.

  We stood there for a moment touching each other, and the feeling was exhilarating. I knew we didn’t have time, so I said, “Ready?”

  He said, his voice low and husky, “Och lass, but ye know that I am, where ye are concerned, ever ready.”

  Mischief played in his beautiful eyes, but I had to concentrate. I pointed Ebony and asked her to open my portal and take us home.

  Chapter Five

  STANDING DRIPPING WET on the hardwood floor of my bedroom, his clothes sticking to him as though they had been painted to his perfect body, Princey took up my hand and whispered, “Ah, there ye are.”

  As he kissed my fingers I realized the cloaking spell had terminated itself. I was going to have to work on getting that spell to last longer. I found his blue eyes pouring into mine and managed to pull away from him somehow and say, “Wow, that cloaking spell didn’t last long. I’ll have to work on it.”

  He stepped forward and into my space. “Thank ye is something I think I should do right now … don’t ye think so, lass?”

  “No, no, not necessary,” I said as I stepped back again. He advanced at the same time, my wet body an inch away from his. We were making a puddle on the floor at our feet.

  “Oh, but I do,” he said and swept me up and into his arms.

  “I … I …”

  “Yes, what is it, lass?”

  “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” Dumbass thing to say, but I couldn’t think of anything else, and though I knew I should be pushing out of his hold, I didn’t. I just didn’t. What I wanted was to drop off my wet clothes, rip off his, and feel his skin against mine.