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

by Michele Bardsley

Chapter 13

  Wrapped in Abram’s arms, I felt as though I’d come home. This world—a world that didn’t really exist—had yielded to the power of our love. Abram and I were able to see past the ruse; together, we were able to break the damn thing wide open.

  Still standing on the front porch, his hands were around my waist, Abram stared through me, resting deep within my soul. If I had doubts before about whether we belonged together, this served to quiet them forever.

  In this world or any other, Abram and I would find each other. And knowing that was worth everything this entire ordeal had put us through.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging tighter, never wanting to let go. “I can’t believe Annabeth did that,” I whispered against his chest. “That’s just....horrible.”

  “Shhh,” Abram said, brushing my lip with his thumb, “I don’t want to talk about her. I want to come inside.”

  “I want you to come inside,” I said, no longer able to keep my voice steady.

  I fumbled with the knob without turning to look at it. I turned back to Abram, leaning my back into the door as it eased open, and he took me by my hips, backing me into the house.

  “Look at that,” he whispered as he nudged the door shut behind me. “I’m inside.”

  I swallowed around the nervousness building up in every inch of my body. “You are.”

  I glanced behind me toward Carly’s room. Her door was ajar, just enough for the hallway light to filter in. I snuck Abram past and into my room, then shut and locked the door.

  “Be quiet,” I said. “Carly’s sleeping.”

  “You’re the one who won’t stop talking, Ms. Bellamy,” he said, advancing on me until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. His hands roamed underneath the back of my pajama camisole to rest at the clasp of my bra.

  My heartbeat sped, and he grinned. Damn his enhanced hearing. A girl couldn’t keep any sense of mystery around here.

  “Shouldn’t we talk about what we’re going to do?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

  “I think I’m done talking tonight, Charisse.”

  With deft fingers, he unhooked my bra, then slipped my night shirt over my head before tossing it on the floor. My bra fell into the pile as well, and he stared at me with a hunger that was decidedly different than any I had seen in his eyes before.

  The beast—the monster that resided inside Abram’s body and came roaring out anytime the sun went down—was subdued. Still there, dancing vaguely in Abram’s glare, twirling gently in Abram’s touch. But there.

  And also…somehow different.

  Annabeth must have disliked that aspect of him. In this perfect world of hers, the beast must have been more nuisance than boon. Perhaps the spell she enacted kept it asleep for now.

  That wouldn’t last, of course. Even I knew enough about magic to know that something as potent and powerful as what resided inside Abram couldn’t be tied down for long.

  But it did leave us with a pretty interesting situation. And the way Abram looked at me, more human than I had perhaps ever seen him, told me it was on his mind, too.

  With the beast safely tucked away, Abram and I had the chance to be together…without the specter of the monster over us.

  While I loved every piece of Abram, beast included, it lit me up to realize that we could share this new experience. Just me. Just him. Together and closer than ever after coming as close as we had ever been to falling apart forever.

  It was the best Christmas gift I could ever hope for.

  The twinkle lights Carly and I had hung in every room glowed off of Abram’s skin, making him look even more delicious as he neared me.

  Was I as beautiful to him as he was to me? Did he feel as though he would explode if he couldn’t touch me, the way I did about him? Did his entire body shake with anticipation of what’s to come?

  “I want to—”

  “I know,” he said. He was on me now, and his breath fell hot against my cheek. “I want to, too.”

  His hands wound in my hair, and his body pressed firmly against mine, my nipples hardening in response. The space between my legs moistened, and a growing hunger rose up in my chest.

  He brushed his lips against mine. Just barely. And again. I leaned forward, trying to get the full effect, but he pulled back, smiling as he looked into my eyes.

  God, this man was such a tease.

  When he kissed my neck, a soft whimper escaped my lips. He stopped and glared down at me. “Be quiet, remember?”

  A blush crept up my cheeks. “You be quiet.”

  “You’re the one moaning,” he whispered, his tenor sending chills through my body. “You’ll need to control yourself,” he said, a playful warning to his voice. “Or I shall be forced to control you myself.”

  I grinned, playfully swatting him on the chest. “Don’t be an ass.”

  He grabbed my hand, holding it against his heart. “I lost you today,” he said mournfully. “I swore I would never lose you, and I did.”

  I traced my other hand along the side his face, moving a loose strand of here from his eyes. “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I promised I would keep you safe, Charisse. That I would always hold you. And then I lost you.”

  “And then you found me,” I said, moving my free hand over his. “Like you always have. Like you always will.”

  “I love you,” he said firmly, his mouth setting into a stubborn line.

  I leaned up, pressing my lips against his ear. “Prove it.”

  The air shifted around us, turning darker and heavier again. Abram growled, scooped me up, and laid me on my disheveled, unkempt bed. But I didn’t blush, at least not because of that. Abram had seen me in every possible way: all made up, completely dressed down. I was his. I belonged to him, and he belonged to me. No secrets between us. No barrier for entry.

  “I was lost,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it on the floor. His chest was a chiseled masterpiece lit by the soft glow of my bedside lamp. “I had never been more lost than I was when I was without you.”

  “Me too,” I answered, my voice weak and trembling.

  He crawled on the bed, hovering above me, dipping his head so that his lips could trail along my neck. His hands slid up my body, roaming over my breast, thumbs swiping across my nipples.

  With care, he tugged at my pants, baring my hip bones and the space between my navel and more intimate areas before running his tongue over my quickly warming skin and opening me up to entirely new sensations.

  He was slower than before. More precise. He knew what he wanted, where he wanted to go, and he was in complete control of getting us both exactly where we needed to be.

  “Never again,” he muttered, tickling my hips as his lips moved against them. “Not for a day, not for a minute. Not for another second will I be without you.”

  Another tug, and my pants were on the floor with the rest of my clothes. His lips moved down my thighs, kissing my legs, pecking at my knees, and then making his way back up.

  His hand pressed between my legs, his fingers dipping into me, reminding me of those large hands that had gone too long without exploring my body. I closed my eyes and bit down on my lip, willing myself to stay silent while at the same time wishing to encourage him with moans.

  Abram brought me to the edge—his favorite place to have me, to keep me, to torture me—and then he stopped to strip his own clothes, revealing just how much all of this was affecting him, too.

  “My God,” I murmured, my body tensing. I’d forgotten how big he was, and not just in stature, but…everywhere.

  He kneeled between my legs, the evidence of his arousal stiff against the inside of my thigh. He leaned down and brushed his cheek against mine, lowering his lips to my ear as he whispered.

  “I’ve seen the Northern Lights,” he said. “I helped construct the Sears Tower.” His chest pressed against mine. “I spoke with Hemmingway and inspired Warhol.�
� He nibbled on my ear. “None of it matters now, Charisse,” he said. “None of it holds a candle to you.”

  He teased me with the head of his cock, rubbing it along my entrance. The promise of him entering me made my carnal ache intensify.

  “You’re the most amazing thing in the world,” he whispered, his lips tracing my earlobe. “And I want to make sure you know it.”

  He pressed inside of me, inch by inch until he filled me completely. Everything fell into place—my heart, my soul, my every emotion. Abram had a way of doing that; he had a way of making my entire life seem right.

  His hands grasped mine, entwining our fingers as he thrust into me, bringing me instantly back to that edge. Every time I thought he would finally send me over, he slowed down, rocking gently against me and kissing my neck, my lips, my face, as though he never wanted this moment to end.

  I swayed against him, finding his rhythm and matching it, using my body to beg him for that release and ultimate connection that I needed from him. When he kissed me again, I bit down into his lip, causing him to grunt and pump harder into me. His love-making turned carnal, but I loved him for his passion and hunger, and it was that unapologetic way he answered to his desire that ultimately threw me over the edge.

  Just as I shattered into a million pieces, a loud moan forced its way out. His hip pressed harder against mine, pushing his cock even deeper as I throbbed around it. The rush happening inside of me pulled another moan, and Abram pushed his lips against mine, kissing me deeply and stifling the sound of my orgasm as I climaxed again.

  He finished with me this time, kissing me long and firm when he was done before pulling away. “I see you’re still a moaner, Ms. Bellamy.”

  I play-slapped his arm and closed my eyes. “Right now, Abram, I’m whatever you want me to be.”

  *

  We lay there for a few hours, just taking each other in. Whenever we were together, the rest of the world receded to nearly nothing. But it wasn’t gone completely. We would have to deal with it sooner or later.

  “What are you going to do about Annabeth?” I asked, my head resting against his bare chest, counting the beats of his heart. “You are technically married, I suppose.”

  “You know that’s not how it works,” Abram said. “Besides, even if it was, it wouldn’t mean anything.” He ran fingers through my hair. “In the morning, I’ll convince her to set things right. It’ll be after Christmas by then. That’ll give us all the time we need to deal with Santa Claus.”

  “Wait,” I said, leaning up to look him in the face. “The spell didn’t do away with Santa.”

  He shook his head. “It just threw us all into a sort of disorientation. Made us forget who we were. Apparently that was enough to satisfy Santa to stop his rampage.”

  “But why?” I asked, shaking my head. “If he wanted me dead, how would forgetting who I am be enough to appease him?”

  Abram’s expression darkened. “Isn’t it obvious? Supernatural beings were piling up within the town limits. Theoretically, we could banish him. Or at least you could. He wanted to do away with all of us in order to keep his stronghold here. But Annabeth made it so that you wouldn’t have to die. In stripping your true memory, it stripped your knowledge of your power. You weren’t a threat anymore. Killing you at that point would have been a waste, and he has yet to kill someone for no reason, even if his reasons are unsavory.”

  “So he thought it would be easier to leave us alone, our memories forgotten, than to kill us?”

  “Better than starting a war with a city teeming with paranormal creatures? Naturally. Anything else would have been an eventual suicide mission. Constructs never last forever. It’s a miracle he’s lasted as long as he has.”

  “Some Christmas miracle,” I mumbled.

  Abram’s fingertips caressed down the side of my arm. “What he didn’t take into consideration was that beings like us can see past these sorts of glamors. It’s why you felt uneasy. It’s why I felt out of place. Annabeth probably felt the same thing, assuming she stripped her own memory along with ours.” His eyes flickered away from mine. “But Santa’s a preternatural creature, too. It won’t take long for him to realize there’s been another shift. Once he knows that even one of us remembers the truth, he’ll be right back at it.”

  I sighed. “We’ll all be in danger again.”

  That was way too familiar. But then another thought, an unimaginably dark one, crashed into me.

  “Carly!” I whisper-shouted, jumping to my feet.

  Abram shot up straight up in bed. “What is it?”

  I threw clothes on as fast as I could. “Carly knew, Abram! She told me she didn’t feel right! She said she was afraid of Santa!” An eerie chill prickled along my scalp. “She’s supernatural, Abram. She has to be. Carly’s in danger!”

  Abram threw the covers back and dressed in a blink. Moments later, we were out of my room and running toward Carly’s.

  Abram burst through the door, and my gaze darted around her room, panic sinking deeper into my core, dread weighing me down like cement filling my spirit.

  Santa stood over her as she huddled scared in the corner. He was just as Carly described: sharp teeth, black eyes, pale skin.

  “Carly!” I shrieked, lunging toward her, but Abram grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back.

  Santa turned to us. In his hand flashed a sickle, sharp and deadly.

  “Don’t fret, children,” he hissed at us. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

  Chapter 14

  The chill that ran up my spine was colder than any icy blast this damned mountain town could have thrown at me. The look of Santa, hunched over the sweetest little girl in the world, was enough to make me want to forget myself and drive a dagger into his ugly forehead.

  As if that would do any good.

  This monster—this true demon—had kicked our asses at every turn. He was always one step ahead of us and, even if he wasn’t, I got the feeling it wouldn’t matter. He was stronger than Abram, and his powers were more potent than mine would ever be. We were screwed, which meant Carly was screwed. And that was definitely not okay.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I called to Carly, hoping my tone could somehow convey I was in control of the situation. “I’m coming for you.”

  She blinked hard, tears streaming down her innocent cheeks. She had known this was coming. Even more than me, she could feel it somehow. What sort of power was this girl capable of? Did it even matter? If Abram and I couldn’t come up with a way to bring down this merry maniac, then every one of us would die tonight.

  A tune—some old Christmas song I couldn’t put my finger on—sifted through the air, rapidly increasing in volume. Within seconds of it starting, I was afraid the windows were going to shatter and my ears start gushing blood.

  Abram screamed something. I could barely hear him over the sounds of jingle bells and jolly crooning, but it sounded like, “Get the girl.”

  He pounced through the air, every bit the beast by the time he landed on Santa. Feet first, he kicked the demon away. Santa tumbled back, landing on the floor and sliding until he hit hard against the far wall. I darted to Carly, scooped her into my arms, and pressed her against my chest.

  I wasn’t about to leave Abram alone with this thing, but I couldn’t risk keeping Carly here. I needed to get her out of this house and send her off toward the neighbor’s place. Then I would haul ass back here and help Abram take this bastard down.

  As I sped toward the door, it swung shut. I grappled with the handle, despite fearing the inevitable. It wouldn’t budge.

  I turned around slowly, tucking Carly behind me. Santa grinned wickedly at me from the floor. He had locked us in.

  Carly tightened her grip around my waist. I felt her tears stream through my night shirt, hot against my back, and a rage filled me like I had never felt before.

  While I hadn’t truly spent the last few years taking care of this little girl, I still had all the memories of
someone who had. I remembered taking care of her that night she had a tummy ache after trying to eat an entire pizza. I remembered leaving the nightlight on after the babysitter let her watch The Sixth Sense. I remembered every day and every night that she was in my care. I remembered falling in love with this little girl and swearing on my life that I would do anything and everything I could to keep her safe and give her the best life possible.

  None of that had happened. But even if I hadn’t really made that promise, I intended to keep it. If this monster wanted to hurt this little girl—my little girl—then it would have to rip me into pieces first.

  I crouched down and faced Carly, clutching her by her tiny shoulders. “Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me,” I said quietly. “I can’t stay by you right now, so you need to get somewhere safe.”

  She clenched me even harder now. I glanced over my shoulder just as Santa glided back to his feet. Abram stood between him and us, crouched, snarling, and ready to attack.

  “I have to, sweetie,” I said, attention back on Carly. “It’s gonna be okay, though. I promise. I need you to run as fast as you can into that corner there. Do you see it?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Now, once you’re there, I want you to think about a giant bubble. Pretend that you’re in a giant bubble that no one in the whole world can get into. And keep thinking about it until I tell you to stop. Can you do that for me?”

  She nodded again.

  My heart sped up. This girl was supernatural. I knew that much for sure. But what did that even mean? I was hedging my bets that she was a Conduit and that, if she thought about something hard enough, she might be able to bring it into fruition. But she would need the right charge to get that done.

  I bit my lip. Hard. A trickle of my blood—Supplicant blood—slipped from my mouth. I wiped it up with my finger and tapped it lightly onto Carly’s hand. It glowed gold, the way my blood always did when it came into contact with something not quite human. If she was a Conduit, that would give her the power she needed.

  If she was a Conduit. Please, God. I’d never wished for someone to be a Conduit before, but right now, I wished it more than I’d ever wished anything.