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

by Michele Bardsley

  “That thing could kill you,” I continued, softer this time. “It will kill you in one hour if we don’t do something about it. And I’m supposed to what, do a happy dance and thank God that one of these rude ass mountain men is safe until 11 pm?”

  He let me go and stepped back. “You’re supposed to understand that we can handle this.”

  “Give me a fucking break, Abram,” I said, feeling a bit bolder now that there was distance between us again. “We sure as shit didn’t handle it in time to save that woman.”

  Abram’s nostrils flared and he grabbed hold of me and jerked me toward him. I slammed against his chest, hands hitting against his hard shoulders and my chest against his abdomen as I looked up into his dark eyes. “We’re together, Charisse. Nothing can stop us if we’re together.”

  I swallowed hard. Being this close to him always made me a little less than steady. His smell, his heat, the feel of him beneath my fingertips—it filled my brain with a fog I could barely see through.

  “What if we’re not strong enough?” I asked. “I can’t lose you.”

  “You make me strong,” he said, his grip softening. “As long as I’m with you, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, that leprechaun from the cereal boxes—let them all come at me with everything they’ve got.” His arms wrapped around me, squeezing me tightly, keeping me safe. “I don’t ever want to hear you talk about losing me again. That’s not going to happen. Do you understand that, Charisse? Not ever.”

  I leaned up, brushing my lips against his cheek and letting the warmth from his skin calm me just a little. “I love you for that, but we can’t stay here. If we’re going to beat this thing, then we’re going to have to fight it with everything we’ve got. You know what that means?”

  He nodded solemnly. “I need to let the beast take over.”

  “Damn straight.”

  “You better kiss me again,” Abram said, grinning, “or else I’ll start to think you like him more than me.”

  “Hmmm,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He is a lot of fun…”

  Abram chuckled and lifted me off my feet, and his breath fell hot against my face. “Am I going to have to ask you twice?”

  “No, sir,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  His mouth pressed into mine, hot and encompassing, our passion enough to burn the world away. There was only Abram, me, and his miraculous mouth.

  “We need to get to the woods,” he mumbled against my lips.

  “Mmmhmm,” I answered, reluctantly moving my lips away just far enough to make a sound before going back for more.

  Abram stopped me, though. “Santa will find us wherever we go. But if we’re there, we won’t have to worry about property damage or civilian casualties.”

  I pulled away from nuzzling into him and stared up into his beautiful face. “Does that mean I have to stop kissing you?”

  “I would hope not.” He grinned as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

  “Then I’m all for it.”

  He growled and rushed back into my lips. I felt the world fall away again. This time, it was accompanied by the whoosh of wind and dizziness that came anytime Abram was running with me.

  By the time he stopped, we were in the woods. I was on the ground, under him with leaves crunching around my back. Opening my eyes, I saw it—the moon above, watching me just like before.

  “We should prepare,” I said, my mouth free as Abram’s lips moved down to my neck.

  “I am preparing.” His hands slid between my legs. “I’m steeling my resolve. Can’t you feel it?”

  He moved atop me, and the proof of his arousal prodded against my leg.

  “Impressive resolve,” I breathed.

  “What can I say, Ms. Bellamy? You inspire me.”

  His hands went to work under my dress, sliding up my thighs and reaching the throbbing cavern between my legs. I bit my lip and tried to keep from moaning as his fingers pressed inside me.

  His thumb, ruff and ridged, sent sparks through my body as he teased my most sensitive spot.

  I could stay like this forever, brought to the brink of ecstasy by the most wonderful man in the world. It was here, in moments like these, that I didn’t mind being who I was. The whole Conduit/Supplicant mess felt light years away. The only thing in the entire world that was real—the only thing that mattered—was me and my Beast.

  He pressed deeper into me, and I fumbled with his pants, wanting to feel him there where his fingers were now. I wanted his chest against mine, his legs wrapped in my own, his mouth hot on my neck, my lips, and wherever else he wanted to put it.

  I wanted him as close as anyone had ever been, and I wanted him to stay there forever.

  But forever wasn’t as long as I hoped.

  Something moved in the woods—a flash in the corner of my eye. Something green up along the tree. A vine of some kind shimmied toward us, dancing off the limbs like it had a mind of its own.

  For fuck’s sake, could Santa not give a man and his girl their last moments together—even if they didn’t really believe these moments would be their last?

  As the vine settled on a nearby limb, though, I started to have my doubts. What if these were our last moments? And they were being ruined by Father Christmas.

  Abram must have sensed it, too, because his hands came to a standstill, and we both sat up. My eyes narrowed as the weed changed shape, turning more into a plant. Breath caught in my throat as I realized just what it was I was looking at.

  “Abram,” I said breathlessly.

  “It’s mistletoe,” he said.

  In a blur of movement, Abram whipped in front of me, crouching in a protective stance even though he was the one who actually needed protection. His hands flexed at his side, and his shirt was open. He ripped it off and flung it on the ground, winter wind be damned.

  “Stay behind me,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Like hell I will.”

  I stood. Flattening my hair with my hands, I settled beside him. Mistletoe was forming on most of the trees above us, hanging like axes ready to fall. Axes ready to take out our entire lives.

  “Let me deal with this, Charisse,” Abram warned, a growl infiltrating his tone. “This is no time to be stubborn.”

  “And this is no time to be a hero,” I argued back. “At least not alone. If this thing wants you, it’ll have to deal with me, too.”

  Energy flared up inside of me. Abram wanted to keep me safe, and I loved him for that, but I was no shrinking violet. I was one of the most powerful people in the world to hear people tell it. And even if I didn’t have enough control over my magic to throw a child’s birthday party, I was sure a little ill-defined energy would do Santa more harm than good.

  Bells jingled behind us. We spun around, but nothing was there.

  “Do you sense anyone?” I asked.

  “No one,” he whispered. “No heartbeat, no scent, not even breathing. That doesn’t mean he’s not here, though. There are a lot of things that don’t give off the signs of the living.”

  My stomach twisted in knots. I didn’t like the sound of what he said, and I sure as hell didn’t want to entertain the possibility that, soon enough, we might not be making the sounds of the living either.

  But the last time we came up against this thing, it handed us our asses in festive gift wrap. Why would this time be any different? Santa Claus could be invisible. He was strong. He knew magic, and he didn’t mind killing people with it.

  We’re strong, too, I reminded myself. Abram and I had proven as much. Fifty years of terror aside, this Kris Kringle wannabe was going to have to get lucky to take the both of us out.

  Bells dinged again, this time from the opposite side. We turned toward the sound, once again coming up empty.

  This time, however, there was a voice—a haughty chuckle that boomed through the forest.

  “I saw what you did.” The voice echoed from every direction. “You two have no shame, do you?”

  A
bram scanned the area, though given the fact he wasn’t darting off all fangs and claws, I assumed he still wasn’t getting any scent.

  “You should hang your heads!” the voice boomed. “Doing that out in the open.” He chuckled again. “Is it too spot on to call you ho ho hos?”

  A groan escaped my lips. “Seriously?”

  My words muffled. No sooner had I spoken than something—a bunch of somethings, actually—bolted toward us from a nearby line of trees.

  Creatures, brown and hooved, galloped at us. They collided with us at speeds greater than I had ever seen anything travel, save Abram.

  One knocked me back and another tossed me right on my ass. I threw my hands over my face as I landed. This would be such a lame way to die—tramped by some ghostly holiday creatures.

  Abram’s hands grabbed hold of me and, next thing I knew, we were watching the creatures parade across the ground from the safety of a nearby branch.

  “Oh my God, Abram. Are those—are they—” Did I even have to ask? The antlers and the hooves sort of gave it away.

  “Reindeer,” Abram said through clenched teeth.

  “This guy really knows how to work a theme, doesn’t he?” I asked, but despite trying to make light of the situation, my body trembled fiercely.

  “Is that right?” The voice we heard now was somewhat smaller than the one that just boomed through the forest. Though still low, still gravely, this voice had a smile in it somehow.

  Beneath us was the source. Tall and slender, skin stone-white, eyes sickly yellow. The only thing Santa Clausy about him was the red and white garb.

  “And here I thought I gave Christmas a unique holiday spin,” he said with a devilish grin. “Yet you insult me. You think this is a theme I borrowed?” he bellowed, his face contorting in anger. “Christmas stole the theme from me!”

  He touched the tree, and huge, colored bulbs dotted up the branches. Red, blue, green, orange—ugh! It was the ugly lights. Go figure.

  “Yeah, well I think you have a tacky taste in decoration!” I yelled back at him.

  Abram widened his eyes at me. “Charisse, really, are you goading him?”

  The bulbs grew bigger, brighter, tackier. This was kind of a crappy punishment, if you asked me.

  “Oh God,” Abram muttered, evidently realizing something I hadn’t.

  “What?” I asked, completely entranced by these hideous bulbs, which were as big as my head and still growing.

  “Hold on to me tightly,” Abram ordered. “Now!”

  “Abram, what—”

  “They’re going to blow!”

  The instant the words left his mouth, the enormous bulbs shattered one by one, shards of hot glass flew everywhere.

  Abram grabbed me and flipped me around. His body tensed, and his mouth twisted into a grimace as he flung us both off the high branch. Fire bellowed from the lights as they went off like festive grenades overhead.

  Abram spun me around again, just in time to take the brunt of the hit as we slammed to the ground.

  He let out a harrowing yelp just as I realized what had happened. Shards of glass had launched themselves into his bare back and, in order to keep from landing on me, he let the ground force them deeper into his back.

  His eyes went wide, and his body convulsed.

  “Change,” I said, my eyes filling up with tears. “Change Abram. The beast can take it. He’ll heal.”

  “Just…run…”

  His eyes went red, and his face began to transform. I pulled myself off of him seconds before fur sprouted across his face, neck, and chest. Joints popped out of place and bones broke and reset as the beast took over Abram’s body. He roared, jumping on his hind legs and sending the glass flying out of his back.

  His ears pointed. His teeth elongated into fangs. His muscles, already bulging, grew even bigger, even more intimidating. He was the beast now, and Santa had his work cut out for him.

  “My now, aren’t you something special.” Santa’s mouth twisted in to what I supposed was supposed to be some kind of nightmarish grin. His teeth were small but pointed, and his yellow eyes glowed as much as Abram’s. “I’m going to have fun taking you apart.”

  The beast nodded at me, signaling for me to go. Though I hated to leave him, I hated the thought of him getting himself killed trying to keep me safe even more, so I struck off to leave him. Without me there, he could let loose. He wouldn’t have to hold back, to fear hurting me. He could overcome Santa in the ways I could not.

  None of that made me feel better. I was a coward for running off. How many times had I saved him. While Abram might be top dog in the bedroom, I was the alpha on the battlefield. I stopped running away and turned back, returning to the scene faster than I had left.

  “So nice of you to stick around,” Santa said, lifting his hand. “What I’m about to do to your fuck buddy here is going to be a thing of beauty. I do so adore an audience.”

  Abram growled and lunged toward Santa, swiping at him with his claws. The thin man spun, caught Abram by the scruff of the neck as he passed, and drove him into a nearby tree.

  I shuddered as Abram’s body twisted against the trunk.

  Abram sprung back to his feet, claws swiping at Santa again. This time, he connected. Blood poured from Santa’s arm, staining the white trim on his suit.

  “Bad dog!” Santa yelled, and he landed a black rubber boot hard into Abram’s mouth.

  Abram stumbled backward and shook his head, but his effort did nothing to steady to him.

  “You should know better,” Kris Kreepo said. “Santa always has something in his bag of tricks.”

  Santa pulled something out of his coat and flung it at Abram. Moonlight glistened off the object—metal of some sort.

  A dagger.

  “No!” I screamed.

  The dagger turned tail midair and flew back at Santa, shocking me as much as the man in red. But Santa caught it in his long fingers mere centimeters before it drove into his chest. His attention flickered to me, a smile contorting his ugly features. “You’re pretty special, too, aren’t you?”

  That instant of preoccupation was all it took. Abram was on him like acid wash on tacky jeans. He dove at Santa, latching onto his throat with his fangs and biting down hard.

  Santa screamed as blood spurted everywhere, but Abram didn’t let up—not even as Santa began jerking around. The beast’s jaw was locked, his stance sturdy. Blood dripped red from Abram’s mouth and pooled on the ground below. There was no breaking free of that.

  Santa stopped struggling. This would be over soon, thank God.

  But just as I was sure Santa was about to kick the Christmas bucket, his yellow eyes met mine. Another smile graced his mug.

  “See you soon,” he mouthed.

  With that, he vanished.

  I fell, hitting hard against the ground, but I didn’t think much of it. I jumped back to my feet and ran to Abram, but by the time I got to him, all the blood was gone. There was none anywhere. Not on the ground, not on Abram.

  Abram began shifting back to his human form, his expression forlorn and defeated.

  “What happened?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “He’s dead, right? He disappeared because you killed him?”

  “No,” Abram answered flatly. “He was never here.”

  My eyes widened. “What?” I asked. “That can’t be right. I saw him. I saw—”

  “It was a construct,” Abram said, shaking his head. “The whole thing. All of it.”

  “A...what? Construct?”

  “An illusion. A hologram. One that can touch and hurt. One that can do magic.” Abram turned away from me and punched his fist into a tree. His chest heaved, and I came up beside him to rub his back, but nothing seemed to calm him. “He was watching us. He was beating our asses, and he was doing it from somewhere else. What I just ‘killed’ doesn’t even exist. It’s an avatar.”

  “No,” I said softly, shaking my head. “You’re just worried. He has to be gone.”
>
  Abram pulled away from me and stormed a few feet away before turning back. “Don’t, Char. You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. In this world, you’re still a baby.”

  I leaned back, stunned by his words. He must have read the shock and hurt from my face, because his posture softened along with his expression.

  “I don’t mean it like that,” he said quietly, closing the distance between us. He tried to put his hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged him off. “Char, I just…worry about you.”

  “Will you ever move past that, Abram,” I said, clicking my tongue. “Will you ever realize that I am every bit as strong as you—if not more?”

  He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “You have it wrong, Charisse. I know you’re strong. I know you’re valuable. It’s because of that I want to protect you. And I’m not wrong you know.”

  I lifted my eyebrow at him, daring him to continue. A wise man would shut up now, but he kept going.

  “You don’t know about this world. It is still new to you.”

  I deflated a little. Although I wanted to hold onto that anger—it sure felt a lot better than fear—the truth was, he was right.

  “A construct?” I said quietly. “Well, what the hell do we do now? Do you think he’ll go back to the hotel? Do you think he’ll try to kill the people there?”

  Abram shook his head. “I doubt it. Dudley’s name is already off the list. I can’t imagine Santa would—Wait, what do you mean by people at the hotel? I thought Dudley was the only one there.”

  “There was that lady in the room across from us, remember?” I said, though as soon as I spoke the words, I realized Abram hadn’t been there when I saw her. He never knew she was there. “Oh…”

  Concern deepened the lines in his forehead.

  “I almost forgot about her,” I continued, “but then I saw the stockings on the fireplace in the lobby.”

  “I must have missed those,” Abram mused.

  “There were four. One for me, one for you, one for Dudley, and one that said Annabeth. I assume that’s the woman at the hotel.”

  Abram’s face blanked. “Annabeth?”