The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “Cheek?” I forced myself not to twist toward him even though my body wanted to.

  “Let me guess…every man you tried that one on before followed behind like a lost pup?”

  My nose sucked in a shot of air, but I kept my features even.

  “Let me warn you, Riley.” He leaned closer to me, getting barely a breath away from my mouth, his odor filtering up my nose. Spicy and woodsy. “I don’t trail after anyone. I lead.”

  The scent coiled around me, my head going dizzy. Air no longer wanted to move in and out of my lungs. My body leaned heavier into the bar, but I wore a flat expression like a shield.

  “So. Do. I.”

  A smile split his mouth, his white teeth showing through, his canine teeth sharper and longer than a normal human’s.

  “Here you are, lovely.” The bartender set down my drink, his grin open and flirty, but a true gentleman, unlike the man next to me. “I’m Elohir. Let me know if you want to try one of my famous cocktails, Frostbite.”

  “Thank you, Elohir.” My hand wrapped around the glass.

  “Grayson.” Elohir dipped his head at the werewolf. “The usual for you?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Three fingers too?” Elohir grabbed the same bottle of whiskey, a funny smile on his face peering back and forth between us.

  “As always,” Grayson replied, but his attention was on my drink and me, lines denting along his forehead. “Looks like we have similar taste in beverages. Not an easy whiskey to procure.”

  Elohir pushed the drink to Grayson, giving us a nod before moving on to other guests.

  “It was my father’s favorite.” I twisted to him, holding up my glass to his. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” The glasses clinked together, both of us watching each other as we took a sip.

  The smooth, rich liquid slid down my throat like a warm bath, heating my muscles as it went. It reminded me of all the nights my father and I would sit by the fire and share a glass of whiskey, and he’d tell me old hunter stories.

  Grayson licked his lips, getting the drop left on his mouth, boldly staring at me, his expression bordering on puzzlement, as if he was trying to figure me out.

  “What?” I tilted my head.

  He rubbed his scruff again, muscles along his forearms twisting under his tattoo, making them look like they were moving, but he did not answer my question. Hell, he was massive.

  “In the sea of people, what made you notice me?” I set the glass down, staring back at him, deepening my voice. It was time to hook a wolf.

  His gaze drifted to the side, his expression flickering with annoyance. “Honestly, I don’t know.” He took another swig of the brown liquid. “You’re hard not to notice. Like a magnet.”

  A flutter winged in my stomach, heat gliding down my back to my core. That was the exact word I had used. I reached for my drink, taking a large sip, letting it scorch my throat. I reveled in it, wanting something to hurt, to wake me up. Being this close to him I would expect fear, rage, or even uncertainty. Not this. I couldn’t describe it, the draw to him. I had to keep reminding myself why I was here. What he had done.

  I was born to execute werewolves. I had killed many in the last year, and I never hesitated, never felt remorse or questioned it. Tonight should have been no different, but I felt off, disconcerted.

  The feel of his stare on my profile burned up my neck, and I tipped my glass back, finishing off the drink. My plan was to take my time with him, earn his trust, then get him alone. But with every moment I spent with him, I became more troubled with the idea of gutting him, which was not acceptable. I would carry out my plan, simply up the timeline a bit.

  “Another?” Elohir was suddenly there, like he apparated, sensing my empty glass.

  “Yes.” I nodded fervently. I shouldn’t. I should keep my head, but I was shaky and flushed around Grayson. That was unacceptable. Whatever I was feeling needed to end. Immediately.

  Elohir set another whiskey in front of me, and I took another sip, instantly feeling my head buzz. I didn’t drink a lot because of training or hunting, but usually I could handle a glass or two.

  “Be careful, lovely… Everything here is a bit stronger than normal.” Elohir winked before moving away and leaving me alone with Grayson, his presence only swirling my head more.

  He watched me for a few more beats before he spoke.

  “Tell me, Riley…” He leaned more into the bar on his arm. “Why are you here alone?”

  “What makes you think I am alone?”

  “Because no man…or woman…would let you out of their sight. Believe me. Do you know how many eyes are on you right now, waiting for me to step back so they can pounce?”

  “I can take care of myself.” I brushed my hair over my shoulder.

  “I don’t think you realize the number of beasts out there.” He nodded to the dance floor. “Wanting to snack on a woman like you.”

  Annoyance twisted my lips, and I leaned close to him. “They should be scared of me.”

  “That I doubt.”

  “I can handle myself and any supernatural creature out there.”

  His lips hitched up, his face inching toward me until he was a breath away. “I wasn’t talking about monsters.”

  Men. He was talking about men in general, which made me want to laugh because the only one I realized I needed to fear was the one in front of me.

  Chapter Three

  Riley

  Grayson faced out to the dance floor, his elbows on the bar, giving me an opportunity to observe his profile. The hole in the hiding space had only given me pieces of his blood smeared face like a puzzle. And in that moment, I never regarded him as anything more than my parents’ killer. Merely teeth and golden eyes which illuminated like light bulbs.

  That’s all you should see him as now, I thought to myself.

  But I couldn’t stop my eyes from tracking his strong beard-lined jaw, dark tousled hair, and full bottom lip. Unlike the elf behind the bar, Grayson wasn’t pretty. He was brutal. Raw. Sexual energy wafted off him like cologne, enticing anything walking past. With his wolf showing, he was the most virile, dominant alpha in this room. The power, magic, and dominance he held without even trying was a cocktail bomb ready to go off.

  “You’re staring at me, Riley.” He kept his attention forward, watching the other guests move around the room.

  “Do you enjoy killing?” The question tumbled out of my mouth without checking with my mind first.

  His head jerked to me, his lids narrowing with the bluntness of my query, then turned back to the crowd. “I will not deny I enjoy it. It is who I am.” He pushed off the bar with his arms, his body going to full height, moving closer, looming over me. My throat caught on air as the heat of his body crawled over me like fingers. “But not all kills,” he said softly, his eyes glowing with vitality. “What I take great pleasure in is the hunt…to chase my prey so slow they don’t even realize I am there until it’s too late. My teeth digging into their flesh, their heartbeats thumping under my palm. Their moans in my ear.” An ache throbbed near my thighs, each word he uttered was like an exclamation mark between my legs. “And you, Riley?”

  The way he said my name struck fear in my chest, causing my foot to slide back. “Wh-what about me?”

  “What gives you pleasure?” A strange smile hinted on his mouth. “Are you the hunter or the prey?”

  Struggling to swallow, I tried to calm my paranoia. He was talking generally, right? He couldn’t know about me. My parents made sure I stayed a secret to keep me safe from his kind.

  “Neither,” I lied, shutting down any rabid emotion fleeing over my face, flattening my lips together.

  “Liar. Everybody in this world is either hunter or prey.” His gaze moved down my body salaciously. “Most might see you as prey. But what I see? You are a hunter, going straight for the throat.”

  “Not at all.” I went for the gut or heart.

  Supernaturals were usually
killed differently than humans. Most died by decapitation or their heart being ripped out. This was not as easy as people thought. Sups were hard to kill, and werewolves were up there with being the most difficult.

  Silver bullets or weapons made from silver didn’t faze wolfs. A stupid myth that some storyteller made up had somehow become legend. Grandma said most likely the bullet was charmed with a witch’s magic, and that was why it killed the wolf, not because the bullet was silver.

  My entire coven trained to fight werewolves and attack in small groups but could never take on a wolf by themselves. I was special. I was also hard to kill. My magic made me an equal to the werewolves or any other Sup, in sight, smell, and strength. Hunters were the protectors of their clan. My parents had been before me; now it was my job.

  Rumors persisted that werewolves were a lot more susceptible on full moons, making them easier to kill, but that was also a myth. Most types of werewolves could turn anytime they wanted, but the monster within hovered close to the surface during a full moon. Tonight was the perfect night to test out the theory.

  “It’s quite early in our relationship to be lying to me.” He moved in so close, his thighs hit mine. I wasn’t short, my stature around 5’7” without heels, but even in four-inch heels, he towered over me. His mouth brushed against my ear, launching heat through my bones, his voice so low I barely heard him. “I know you like the kill.” He started to turn away, but I could have sworn I heard him add “huntress” at the end.

  “What?” I jerked back. I had to have heard him wrong.

  “Would you like to dance?” He stepped back, finishing his drink.

  I stood rooted to my spot, fear crashing over me in waves.

  “Dance?” He flicked his head to the floor, where the ballroom swayed with couples, the siren singing another erotic ballad, which had people rushing for the private chambers floating around the room.

  I was off, on edge tonight, and it felt as if he could see right through me. I was merely being paranoid. The red huntress was known in my area, but no one knew what I looked like. I always kept my hood up and spread rumors I was blonde with blue eyes. Some even thought there was a possibility I was a pubescent boy instead.

  He eyed me with curiosity, lifting his palm to me in invitation.

  This is exactly how you planned it in your head. He’s handing you the game. Now get it together. I berated myself, rolling my shoulders back. I slammed down the rest of the whiskey, causing him to lift his eyebrows in awe.

  I placed my palm in his. Energy, like touching a low-voltage fence, rushed through my muscles, spiking up my arm. His hand twitched as though he felt it as well, his eyes snapping to mine. Instead of yanking away, his fingers wrapped possessively around my hand. He cleared his throat as he led me toward the dance floor, every second his touch pumping stronger through me as if a thread was beginning to form. What the hell? In all the test cases with humans and Sups in the pubs, even Thomas, I had never felt anything even remotely like this. It frightened me. An emotion I did not like. Fear now turned to anger.

  Grayson stopped, and the couples around automatically gave him berth as if they sensed the danger and power coming off him. He spun to face me, his free hand sliding over my hip to my lower back. An electric pulse raced after his touch, forcing me to inhale sharply. His nose flared, his gaze finding mine as he pulled me into his form.

  My lids squeezed together with the onslaught of magic dancing over me. I heard a low growl, and my eyes popped open. Heat filled his gaze. His shoulders were tense and neither of us moved, except for his thumb methodically rubbing circles over the base of my spine, brushing my ass.

  A moan vibrated through my bones, responding primally to the sensations. They were so strong it took a while for my brain to voice itself, before sending me images which haunted my dreams. Flesh, guts, and blood covering my beloved parents, their eyes open in horror, their lives gone in guarding the secret hiding in a cupboard.

  Sensing my need to pull away, his hand pressed firmer onto my ass, pinning my body to his, forcing me to feel every inch of him. Hell. Fire scorched my nerves, grinding my teeth. Most male Sups were “blessed,” but of course the King of Werewolves topped that.

  Hell’s teeth.

  Figures whirled and swayed next to us, some unashamedly having sex right on the dance floor, upping the blaze in my belly. I used to be astounded by the Supernaturals’ brazenness of sex. Not anymore, especially since becoming a Sup myself. My sex drive tripled, and my human embarrassment of it diminished.

  I couldn’t deny a few—okay, most—of my “study cases” ended up back at their place, but I had a rule. I only had sex with humans. It had taken me a while to admit I was no longer human in my needs. The conquests barely ever took the edge off, while they were exhausted and spent, usually passing out for the rest of the night.

  Grayson touched me, and I was about to… No! Riley, that’s disgusting. I shook the thought from my head, feeling deep loathing inside. My parents would be ashamed of me.

  He started to move us, the little movement creating a friction, twisting the loathing into something else.

  “Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, his mouth dipping over my ear. He curved his hips just enough my lips parted. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Me?” I tried to pull back, but his hold kept me in place. The erotic voice of the singer slithered over my skin, causing the dress to feel heavy and cumbersome. His breath tickled down my neck, compelling me to swallow over the knot stuck in my throat.

  “If you’re giving me a preview of what those will feel like on my back, I say we skip to later.” He nodded down at my hand on his bicep. Dammit. My nails dug into his skin, leaving deep marks across his tattoos. “You also have a fierce grip.”

  My attention went to my other hand, wrapped around his fingers, gripping them like a vise. Instantly I loosened my hand.

  “Oh, sorry.” I tried to back up, but he simply drew me in closer.

  “Don’t be.” His lip lifted in a naughty grin. “I like it.”

  Our eyes met. Deep hunger blazed in them. I was terrified of what mine expressed. His gaze bore so deeply into me my head spun, feeling like something I should explain, but the sensation was out of my grasp. It flooded desire down my spine, drowning me under the power.

  Images and voices I couldn’t quite see or hear fluttered around, staying on the threshold of my subconscious, not letting me grasp them. Terror piled on my tongue, making it hard to swallow.

  What the hell was in that drink? This was crazy. We had barely been in each other’s company for less than an hour. What was going on? Being this close to him befuddled my mind and my objective. I regretted drinking the whiskey; it had completely messed with me.

  I had come here to kill him.

  “Riley?” My name on his lips was torture. Damn English accents. As if the alcohol, music, and magic throbbing through this room wasn’t enough. The package that was Grayson Bloodstone, with his bloody English accent, was lethal. “Riley, look at me.” I lifted my head, grinding my teeth, trying to keep myself walled up. His hand cupped the side of my face, his focus dropping to my mouth. “Witch.”

  My eyes widened. His finger slid through my hair, gripping the back of my head, holding me in place.

  “It’s the only thing you could be because I’ve only known you for a moment, and I am completely bewitched by you.”

  There were a lot of witches out there. It really was a very general term. A huge umbrella for all who used spells and held magic. I was a witch, but even in my coven, I was not the average kind of witch.

  “Tell me, Riley. Did you hex me?” he rumbled, pulling my head forward, our lips barely centimeters a part.

  He was going to kiss me.

  I had planned in many of my scenarios this very thing, but not once did I ever include myself wanting to kiss him back. I actually trained myself on how to get through it without wanting to scream in disgust. That was not even close to what I felt. I craved i
t. Longed for the feel of his mouth on mine. Claiming and hot.

  He tightened his hold around me, his other hand pushing my pelvis into his, fingers gripping my hair tighter.

  I. Wanted. Him.

  Not to kill.

  Not even to just kiss.

  Hell’s teeth…

  “No.” Answering his question with a huff, I shoved him back. Spinning around, I ran, passing through the sheer curtains by the stage, leading me outside. The bright moon guided me around to the side. I needed a moment to get myself together. To clear my head.

  I was afraid Grandma was right; I wasn’t ready. The men I had preyed on at the bars were boys compared to him. Simple to twist around my finger. Manipulate. Easy targets.

  Now the hunter had become the prey, and I was terrified.

  Chapter Four

  Grayson

  I stared at the empty space where Riley had been standing, my muscles locked in place.

  What the fuck had just happened? The images flickered through my head too fast to catch; a deep feeling took root around us. I almost snogged the shit out of her.

  Being the leader of the werewolves for almost seven decades, I had seen and experienced a lot of crazy things. It came with the territory, and most of the time it wasn’t the Supernaturals who were crazy as hell. Humans, over the centuries, had baffled the hell out of me.

  The one thing always clear to me was women. Sup, human—all ages, species, types—were something I never floundered with. I was always in charge. Dominant. Alpha. Everyone I bedded liked it that way. They could let go and not have to be in charge. Some stayed longer than others, and some I really, really enjoyed.

  Love was never used in the werewolf world unless you found your mate. And only a handful in my pack had found that connection. And damn if they weren’t fucking all the time; decades later and they were still completely captivated by their mates, acting like teenagers. They told me there was nothing else like it; it was better than all the partners I had been with, all together, at once. I highly doubted it. I had been involved with some incredibly kinky shit. I enjoyed the variety. Werewolves were up there with incubi and succubi in sexual demand. Werewolves needed it all the time, and we were quite open with it.