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

by Michele Bardsley

  “Happy holidays,” I said, giving her a polite wave.

  She narrowed her eyes at me and slammed the door in my face.

  *

  By the time Abram and I settled—or as much as we could in a rundown box of a room with a window air conditioner and a bulky television that picked up all of eleven channels—my stomach was basically screaming in protest.

  I was as tired as hell and probably looking the part, but regardless of what the stereotypes might have people believe, a model does not live on ex-lax and celery. Especially not full-figured models, and even more especially not full-figured former models.

  Since we needed to make sure we were back indoors and safely tucked away from any onlookers when Abram’s curse went into effect, we skipped the unpacking and headed back toward town.

  It was Christmas Eve night—not that you could tell from the state of Main Street. Though it was frigidly cold and snow lay half-shoveled on the sidewalks, there was no other sign of the holiday season. It seemed…wrong somehow.

  The kids of the town moved in and out of the stores and diner, lacking of all the holiday energy one would expect. Why weren’t they jumping up and down with excitement? Why weren’t they nestled in bed waiting for Santa Claus with visions of sugar plums and all that crap dancing in their heads? Christmas was being stolen from them and, to a lesser extent, their parents. Didn’t they want to see their kids enjoy the magic of the season while they still could?

  Instead, they moped around like sad sacks in some depressing parade.

  “I don’t like the look of this place,” I said to Abram, watching a little girl in a snow hat shuffle into the nearby diner, her eyes sullen and on the ground.

  Abram squeezed my hand as his eyes slid slowly across the street. “They’re afraid of something,”

  I looked up at him. “How do you know?”

  “Look at the way they move,” he said in a low voice. “Quickly and directly. You were raised in a small town, Charisse. When’s the last time you walked out onto the streets of New Haven and people weren’t talking to each other?”

  “The fifth of never.” I scoffed. “It’s a farm town. Gossiping with each other was the only thing we ever had to do.”

  “Right. Well, consider that true times ten for an even smaller mountain town. But look at them. Not one of them is speaking. They’re not even looking at each other. It’s like they’re trying too hard to be normal. Like someone is watching.”

  I shook my head. “Why can’t we ever have a normal vacation?”

  The truth was, I had already resigned myself to finding out what was going on here. It was what we did, Abram and I. We got to the bottom of things. And this place was looking as problematic as it comes. Besides which, I was more than a little curious, and I’d never been the type of girl to let my curiosity go unsated.

  As I caught Abram out of the corner of my eye, though—as the heat of his hand warmed mine—I couldn’t deny that a huge part of me simply wanted to be with him.

  Sure, I would much rather be snuggled up next to him, bare-chested by a fire. Or better yet, lounging on a beach somewhere on the other side of the world, with my feet in the sand and my top slung across the chair. But so long as I was with him, I was happy. It was the reason I came here, and it was the reason I would stay here, regardless of what horrors we might uncover. I would follow this man anywhere, and I would do it with a smile on my face and a blush on my cheeks.

  “We might as well eat,” he said, turning to me. “It looks like the majority of the crowd is funneling into the diner. We can investigate—”

  “While we fill our faces,” I finished.

  He grinned the first real smile I’d seen since we arrived. “Something like that.”

  We strolled into the diner, hand in hand, to find it every bit as quiet as the rest of this weird ass town. Even the kids were silent; I couldn’t remember a time when any child—let alone all of them—were quiet inside of a restaurant.

  As we grabbed menus and seated ourselves at a nearby booth, everyone in the place silently turned to look at us. People turned away from their waffles. Waitresses stopped pouring coffee. The cook came out from behind the counter.

  “Do they think we’re the Kardashians?” I asked.

  “Are they those awful people in the needlessly elaborate house? The ones on that program you made me watch last weekend?”

  I nodded.

  “Then God, I hope not.”

  Maybe they were eyeing us because we were sitting next to each other, instead of across from one another. But our relationship was still new—or at least Abram had a way of always making it feel that way—and I wanted to be right beside him.

  While he looked over the menu, his hand slipped between my thighs, and a low gasp slipped by me.

  “People are looking, Abram,” I said quietly.

  A slow grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t lift his gaze from the dinner selections. “Let them look.”

  His hand crept farther up my leg, and I think I was about to just die right then and there. I buried my face in his shoulder. “Maybe we should get the food to go?” I whispered.

  “You like this, Miss Bellamy,” he said. “I can feel it.”

  Of course he could. The space between my legs right now was probably like an oven compared to the late winter chill. But I was pretty sure my cheeks were burning hotter than anything else right now.

  His hand slipped under my dress, making me regret and rejoice having worn one despite the cold. My body tensed with a combination of fear and anticipation. This wasn’t what I’d had in mind when I’d picked out this wool winter dress with the collar and hood trim…and at the same time, deep down, I didn’t want him to stop. Although, while no one could see what was happening under the table and on the other side of Abram’s massive body, they were probably wondering what was wrong with me. It was entirely impossible to act calm while he was doing this.

  Just as Abram’s finger dipped into my underwear, an older woman came toward us, nearly jogging. This was enough to make Abram startle, and he quickly pulled his hand away.

  “You folks lost?” the lady asked breathlessly. She was in a red and white uniform with a nametag that read “Betty.” Our hostess, perhaps?

  “No, just hungry,” Abram said, his eyebrows pulling together. “This is a restaurant, right?”

  “Yes…” she said slowly, arching her eyebrows at me, and the little self-conscious demon that even ex-models have popped up to make me worry she somehow knew what we’d just been up to.

  Abram, of course, was still playing things off as cool as ever. “What do you recommend, then?”

  “You folks got car trouble? Is that why you’re here?” The hostess had a look in her eyes that reminded me a little too much of the clerk at the hotel desk. In fact, as I took in everyone in the diner, it seemed they all had some variation of a worried, on-edge expression.

  “Car’s just fine,” Abram stated flatly. “We would like some food now, if you don’t mind.”

  “Now listen,” the hostess said, raising a wrinkled hand. “Y’all look like fine folk, like a real cute couple.”

  “A hungry couple,” I added, narrowing my eyes at her.

  “And because you look like such fine folk, I’m gonna give you two some chicken pot pie, fresh and piping hot. On the house. But you gotta take it to go.”

  “It’s late,” I said, closing over the menu I hadn’t even gotten to look at yet. “We’d much rather—”

  The old woman reached across Abram and grabbed my arm. It didn’t hurt, but it startled me, and I jerked backward. The moment was a complete and total buzzkill, taking that arousal Abram has stirred in me and throwing it out into the frozen winter night.

  “You’re the pair that Dudley couldn’t get to leave the lodge, aren’t you? Just get out of here!” Just as suddenly as she snapped, she let go of my arm, looking at her own hand as though equally surprised by herself. She was lucky Abram didn’t
take that arm clear off of her. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get back in your car and get out here. Come back in the spring. It’s a different place then.”

  Abram stood, filling up more of the space between me and the old woman, which was more than a little ridiculous given that she was four foot nothing and maybe ninety pounds soaking wet. But part of me thought it was chivalrous nonetheless.

  “What is going on here, ma’am?” he asked, his voice calmer than I figured it would be. “Whatever it is, I think we can help you.”

  “Can’t nobody help us, son. Not since ‘65.”

  Abram’s body tensed. “‘65?” he asked. “What does that mean?”

  “Now listen, son. Why don’t you go on and do what we can’t—get out of here. If not for you, do it for the lady. Before it’s too late. Once he makes note of you, there’s nothing anyone can do.”

  She turned and walked away, and as if on cue, everyone in the restaurant went back to their regularly scheduled doldrums, finally ignoring Abram and me and seemingly disregarding what had happened.

  “What does that mean?” Abram asked again.

  The woman didn’t answer.

  “Tell me what it means!” he shouted. Everyone continued to ignore us. “For your own sakes, one of you had better—”

  Loud noises, like sleet falling from the sky and bouncing off the roof, cut Abram off midsentence. He looked up at the ceiling, and he wasn’t the only one.

  Everyone in the restaurant looked up, too, but instead of eyebrows pulled together, their faces twisted in horror and screams escaped a few of their lips as they nearly fell over themselves jumping up from their chairs. Whatever was going on, they knew what it was, and they knew to be scared.

  We stood, too, but nearly got trampled over as the rest of the diner’s patron’s bolted toward the door as if a fire had broken out. Some carried small children in their arms; most left half-eaten food on the tables.

  “What is this?” I breathed.

  Abram held out his hand and guided me back to my feet. ““I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.”

  Once the crowd had dispersed, Abram and I walked out of the now-empty diner and back onto Main Street. Apparently the diner wasn’t the only place that had cleared out. Everyone in town—or so it seemed—was standing outside, gathered around a huge structure.

  I gasped as I took it in. A giant Christmas tree, complete with decorations and lights, sat at the end of the road.

  “That’s impossible,” I said, looking at the red ribbons that twisted around it from top to bottom, peering at the bright white lights that danced along its edges, and noticing the wrapped box sitting at its base. “We were just out here. No one could put up a tree like this so quickly.”

  “He’s not just anyone.” The hostess from inside stood beside us. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her aged head. “I really thought he might pass us over this year.”

  “Who?” Abram asked, his hands balling into fists.

  “Does it even matter?” She waved her hand toward the beautiful tree that was currently being regarded as if it were someone’s death bed. “He’s here now. He’s here, and people are going to die.”

  Chapter 3

  My body went cold as the words left the old woman’s trembling lips. Everyone here looked terrified, but not the sort of terrified people get when some unexpected tragedy happens. These people were resigned in their fear. They knew this was coming—whatever this was.

  I narrowed my eyes at the woman, starting to wonder if this was some elaborate prank. “It’s just a tree.”

  “That’s how it starts,” she said, running a hand down her arm and clasping herself at the wrist. “That’s why we try to keep it out. The trees, the lights, all that damn singing. I think it brings him here.” She turned to a man beside her. He was a little younger than her, but his hair was still flecked with grey and his eyes were still spotted with worry. “We were so careful this year, Calvin. No decorations, no songs. I even heard the ladies stopped wearing stockings. What the hell did we do wrong?”

  “I don’t think it matters, Bea.” He patted on the back. “I don’t think it ever mattered.”

  “What are you people talking about?” Abram asked, shooting me a befuddled look. “What’s going on, and who do you think is going to kill you? Tell me so I can help you.”

  “You’ll get yourself killed, is what you’ll do,” Bea answered, pursing her lips. “You think you’re the first person to ever come here looking to be a hero, all big words and dressed up like salvation? You ain’t. And, if you ain’t careful, you’ll end up like the rest of them.” She looked over to me. “You look like fine people, and it’s mighty kind of you to be concerned about what’s going on here. But this is town business, and the truth is, if you ain’t from Hope’s Bluff, then you ain’t got this to worry about. Your man is in way over his head, and he might be called to put some actions behind those words of his. Especially tonight. So, I suggest you two pack yourselves up and get back to wherever it is you came from and hope it doesn’t follow you where you go.”

  “We can help you,” I said firmly. “It’s what we do.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Maybe so, Little Lady, but you don’t know what you’re up against.”

  A low growl was starting in Abram’s chest. It was getting close to dark now, which meant the pull of the beast was strengthening. And this lady was choosing now to test his patience.

  “Maybe if you would tell us,” he said in a low, irritated tone, “then we would know.”

  The man beside placed his hand gently on her arm and shook his head. “Bea, you know you can’t do that.”

  “Don’t you worry,” she said, patting his hand. “I ain’t fixing to have these two souls on my conscience. It’s things like that that’ll get you listed.” She pointed her finger at us. “If you two insist on getting yourselves killed, you’ll do it without my assistance.”

  With that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, taking her friend with her.

  “This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” I said to Abram, watching the crowd and the way they all seemed to be staring…not at the elaborate tree that magically appeared on Main Street, but at the small, unassuming gift beneath it.

  “It might be the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” Abram shot back. “And, given my age and history, that says a lot.”

  “But maybe we should just go,” I said, stepping in front of him and taking his hands in mine. I glanced over my shoulder to the strangeness around us and then back to him. “They don’t want our help, Abram. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want it.”

  He pulled away and shook his head. “They’re getting our help whether they want it or not. I expect you to stand by my side on this, but of course, you are free to do as you wish.”

  Oh, here we go again. He liked to make it sound like I had a choice—as if I would walk away and leave him here to figure this out on his own.

  If there was one thing about Abram that might never change, it was his bossiness. I guess I should have expected that since it’s how we met—him being my boss at a night club—but we were supposed to be partners. Instead, our lives were a whole lot of him getting into trouble and me getting out of it because he was so damned stubborn.

  I pressed my lips together and took in the town once more. So this was it. Our next “mission”. Officially. Might as well make the most of it.

  I pointed to the front of the crowd, where a few men were circling the wrapped gift. “They’re going to open it.”

  “Come on,” Abram said, eyeing the men. “We need to get to the front.”

  He grabbed my hand and, with the same force and speed he used the first time he ever touched me, he scooped me into his arms as we glided through the crowd.

  There were many things that being a beast provided to Abram. Enhanced senses, massive strength, rock hard abs that no amount of junk food could hope to soften. But the best thing—my absolu
te favorite thing that Abram’s abilities afforded him—was the way he moved.

  Equal parts force and grace, Abram whisked me through the crowd, darting and dodging the townsfolk faster than I could ever hope to move on my own. All the while, he held me in strong arms. All the while he pressed me against his mountain of a chest, nestled next to his beating heart.

  We settled at the front of the crowd just as a balding man ripped into the gift wrapping.

  “Wait!” Abram yelled, skidding to a stop and gently standing me up next to him. “That could be dangerous!”

  “Oh, it’s definitely dangerous, son,” the man answered, discarding the wrapping paper and revealing a wooden box with etched carvings along the side. “For one of us, anyway.”

  He popped open the box and, though I felt Abram tense beside me, he relaxed just a little when the man pulled out nothing more than a sheet of paper.

  “The list…” a young girl muttered beside me.

  “What?” I asked. “What list?”

  Shouts sounded from all around me. It seemed that every second person was screaming toward the front. And they were all saying the same thing.

  “Who’s on the list?”

  “Whose name is it?”

  “Tell us the name!”

  Everyone in this crowd knew exactly what was going on. Everyone except me and Abram. They weren’t surprised there was a list under a magically appearing Christmas tree. This had happened before. It’d been happening since 1965.

  “Tell us the name already!”

  The tension was palpable now, and Abram pulled me in closer. Angry mobs were not his thing and, regardless of what was going on here, I knew he would snatch me up and get me out of here in half a second flat should things start to go south.

  The balding man with the letter cleared his throat, effectively silencing the loud group.

  “The time is 7:09 P.M. on the 24th of December. And the list reads one name. Amanda Carter.”

  No one spoke. It seemed no one even breathed in the seconds after the name was read. I turned to Abram, about to break the silence by asking him what we should do, when a shrill yell bellowed through the air.