Tall, Dark, and Deadly: Seven Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance

  Demon blood.

  Intoxicating.

  He hadn’t wanted to accept it, but the truth was impossible to deny. He could smell it on her. Taste it in her blood. It appeared that his little human was not a human after all. Or at least not completely human. Maybe there was human in there, but there was also demon, and something else that gave her a sweetness he had never before encountered.

  He tightened his grip on her. He’d hated demons for so long. Devoted his life to keeping the earth free of their taint.

  Now he might very well be in love with one.

  The irony struck him hard. He’d never believed in love, but this must be it. He wanted to keep her close, keep her safe, lose himself in her body. He wanted to protect her from pain, and this little piece of news would cause her a whole shit load of pain. How was he supposed to tell her that her normal life would never happen?

  His hand tightened on her breast, and she shifted in her sleep. He massaged her gently, grazing his palm over the nipple. It tightened to a hard nub against his hand and he took it between his finger and thumb tugging until she moaned and wriggled her warm little bottom against him. His cock hardened and his balls ached viciously. He wanted her. He couldn’t feed again yet, but he was desperate for the taste of her on his tongue.

  He slipped a hand down between them, pushed between her thighs, and found her still wet, warm and slippery.

  “Christian?” she whispered his name as he pushed one finger up inside her. He stroked the soft skin of her bottom then wrapped a hand around one slender thigh, lifting it to give him access. He opened her gently, and his cock slipped inside her as though it belonged there. He nuzzled her neck, grazed the skin with one razor sharp fang, and lapped at the beads of blood that welled from the wound as he moved inside her.

  …

  Tara came awake fully as his fang grazed her skin. Christian was behind her, curved around her spine, wrapping her in a warm, sensual glow. He was also buried deep inside her, his arms enfolding her. One hand tugged at her engorged nipple while the other gently stroked her swollen clit. She was on fire as he thrust slowly. She wanted it to go on forever but she craved the release he could give her. She let herself go, giving herself up to the sensations building inside her until she was free and flying.

  She slept again afterward. When she woke, he was still beside her and she was wrapped in his arms. She felt different and realized something fundamental had changed deep within her mind. Whether from his lovemaking or feeding, Christian had forged a connection between the two of them, like a low hum, whispering through her brain. Tara found it strangely comforting.

  She knew that soon she was going to have to ask him what he had discovered but for a little while, she wanted to forget.

  “Where did these come from?” She stroked her fingers around the scars that circled his wrists.

  His eyes followed the movement. After a minute, he gripped her hands, settling them palm down on his naked chest and pressing them down with his own. His skin felt warmer now, smooth as satin under her fingers, but he wouldn’t distract her so easily. Tara wanted to know everything about him. Where he came from, what his life had been like before he died. Graham had told her Christian didn’t talk about his past but she refused to be put off.

  “I thought you healed all scars?”

  He sighed. “Not those that happened before we were changed.”

  “So you got them before you were turned into a vampire?”

  Christian rolled onto his side, trapping their hands between their bodies. It brought his face close and his breath feathered across her cheeks. “You don’t want to talk about this,” he said against her skin.

  A shiver ran through her but she shook it off. “Actually, I do. I want to know, and it will take my mind off my own problems for a little while.”

  He drew in a deep breath. She thought he was going to refuse her, but he pulled himself up, dragging her with him so he rested back against the headboard. He tucked her under his arm, and she relaxed against him.

  “I was born in 1502.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “1502? That makes you—”

  “A lot older than you. If you want to hear this, I suggest you stop interrupting. It’s not a story I’ve told before.”

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Go ahead.”

  “My parents were rich by the standards of the day. I grew up in a manor house. I was betrothed at thirteen and we married when I was eighteen and Elizabeth fourteen.”

  Tara opened her mouth to say something. Christian shot her a look, and she closed it again.

  “We were happy. Over the next few years, we had two daughters. A son would have followed, but it was not to be. My family was murdered. I didn’t know it at the time, but the Earth was in the middle of one of the demon wars. A particularly long, drawn-out war. They happen every so often, and we normally manage to put them down without too many problems, but there are always human casualties. My family was targeted because of me.”

  He rested his head against the wall behind him, and stared into space. It was such a long time ago but he obviously still felt the guilt.

  “If the demons killed them, how could you be responsible?”

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Not so much now, but during the wars in the Middle Ages, demons and the fae recruited humans to work with them. They can sense when a person is susceptible to their ways and approach them with promises of rewards. I wasn’t, but it was common knowledge I’d had problems with the church. I was against many of their practices and spoke out, believing my position would protect me. So perhaps I drew the demons to me. When they realized I would never work for them, they killed my family out of spite.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll probably never know the details, but I found out later they were killed on the orders of a demon called Asmodai. He’s one of the seven princes in the Abyss, and I suppose I should be flattered that he came for me himself. After the murder, the church leaped at the chance to have me arrested. I blamed myself after my family died, and didn’t care what happened to me.

  “I was imprisoned, although my position kept me alive for three years. Three years in a dungeon chained to a wall in the darkness, thinking about what had happened.” He held out his hands to show the scars on his wrist. “That is when I got these.” He lifted himself away from her and twisted to show her his back. A fine tracing of silvery scars ran over the whole length of it, marring the perfection of his skin.

  Tara stroked her finger over the scars with a trembling hand. “What happened?”

  “My family connections stopped them from permanently maiming me, but they felt they had a duty to beat the devil out of me. At the time I believed I deserved it.”

  Tara blinked away a tear. It slipped out and rolled down her cheek.

  Christian picked it up on his fingertip. “Don’t cry for me,” he said. “It was a long time ago, and in a way, the imprisonment is what kept me alive. Had I been free, I would have gone searching for death and no doubt found it.”

  Tara couldn’t bear the thought of him alone in the darkness with only his guilt to keep him company. “How did you get out?”

  “I didn’t. Well, the man I was never left that cell. After three years, the church sentenced me to death. I was to be burned at the stake as an emissary of Satan. I remember thinking I liked the irony of it. The night before I was to die, I had a visitor. He said he could free me, give me a new life, immortality if I wanted it. I answered that I didn’t want a new life and immortality at that point seemed a burden rather than a prize, but he told me I would be fighting demons. He belonged to a group that protected the Earth, and I could be part of that. I could hunt down the killers of my family, and all I needed to relinquish was my mortal life and my soul. At that point, I wasn’t even sure I had a soul worth saving. So I agreed, and received the vampire’s kiss.”

  “So the one who approached you was from the Order?”

  He nodded. “He was the head of th
e Order of the Shadow Accords.”

  “Did you manage to get the demon that killed your family?”

  “We’ve had a couple of run-ins. I’ve beaten him once or twice, but you can’t destroy one of the seven forever, at least not here on earth. You can kill the body but they just re-manifest in the Abyss.”

  “You must really hate demons.”

  He cast her a look she didn’t quite understand. “I did. For a long time, I hunted them and destroyed them when I could, but I found that all hatred runs out in the end. So after the last wars, I left the Order.”

  “But you’re back there now.”

  “I wouldn’t be, but it seems that Asmodai is back, and he’s after me.”

  She frowned. “You personally?”

  “He’s picking off agents close to me.”

  “Why should he do that?”

  Christian shrugged. “I was in charge of the Order during the last wars when he was banished back to the Abyss. It’s unusual for a demon to bear a grudge—unlike the fae—but for some reason, it’s gotten personal for him. It’s always been personal to me.”

  “What were they like, your wife and daughters?”

  “It’s so long ago that I can hardly recall their faces. Things were different back then. I liked and respected Elizabeth but love was not a part of our marriage. It was arranged, as was the way at the time. My daughters were different, I loved them, but they were young, I barely saw them.”

  …

  Her eyes filled with compassion for a five-hundred-year-old wound that had healed long ago. But as Christian watched, her expression changed. A grim determination settled on her face, and he knew what was coming.

  “So,” Tara said, “are you going to tell me what you saw? What you tasted?”

  He could see the anxiety in her eyes, and he didn’t know how to tell her. She wanted so much to have a normal life, and he was about to put an end to her hopes forever. He opened his mouth to speak, and his cell phone rang.

  Christian put her gently from him and swung around to sit on the edge of the bed. He pulled the phone from his pants pocket and flicked it open. It was Piers.

  “We have a meeting with the fae.”

  “When?” Christian asked.

  “Tomorrow, midnight.”

  “How melodramatic. You found them?”

  “I didn’t need to in the end. They came to us. Apparently they have something they want us to do.”

  “Any idea what?”

  “No, but it’s connected to you somehow. They’re insisting you’re present at the meeting.”

  “Insisting? Since when have the fae had the right to demand anything of the Order?”

  “Actually, I didn’t argue very hard. I thought it might be a good idea if you’re present.”

  “Why?”

  “Me and the fae don’t exactly hit it off. It might be a good idea to have you there as a buffer.”

  Christian sighed, but he realized Piers was right. Diplomacy had never been Piers’s strong point and with the demons up to something, it was probably best not to rile the fae any more than necessary. “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  He broke the connection. “We have to leave,” he said to Tara.

  “We’re going back to London?”

  “Yes, I have a meeting tomorrow night.” He pulled on his clothes as he spoke but was aware that Tara watched him through narrowed eyes.

  “So, are we going to talk about what’s going on here?”

  “I think it might be better if we wait until we’re back in town. Give me a little time to think it over. I don’t want to tell you something now, get you all riled up, and just have to take it all back later.”

  He knew from her fixed expression that it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Christian reached out and ran a hand through her hair.

  Tara knew he meant it to be soothing. Instead, the caress made her scalp prickle. She gritted her teeth. He was lying. He knew something, and he wasn’t telling her.

  All her life her aunt had told her, “listen to me,” “I know best,” and Tara had listened, believing she’d had her best interests at heart. Look how well that had turned out.

  Crap! That was how it had turned out.

  Her aunt had died—or did whatever it was that reanimated corpses did—leaving Tara alone, without a clue. Why couldn’t she have told her before it was too late instead of leaving her to blunder on in total ignorance.

  Now, here was someone else expecting that just because she cared about him, she would quite happily do whatever he said and not ask any awkward questions.

  Not going to happen.

  He waited for her answer, but obviously so confident that she would go along with anything he asked.

  She had run the gamut of emotions tonight. She’d been worried, wildly excited, scared. Now the first flicker of a deep-rooted anger rippled through her. It felt good. It had been part of her life for so long, simmering under the surface. She’d tried to suppress it, but it had grown, feeding on all the things that stood in her way. Her breathing slowed until she took long deep breaths, and with each intake of air, her anger intensified. She opened her eyes and smiled. Yeah, she was pissed—well and truly pissed. He didn’t want to get her riled? Well, it was too damn late!

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Surprise flickered across his face, and a wave of savage satisfaction ran through her. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you know.”

  “We’re going back to London. Now.”

  “You might be going back to London, but until you tell me what’s going on, I’m staying here. And unless you want to force me, you’re going to have to live with that.”

  For a moment, he studied her as though he seriously considered the force thing. He eyed the distance between them, but Tara stood her ground. Finally, he relaxed and nodded.

  “Okay, get dressed. I’ll make you a coffee, and see you in the kitchen.” He left the room and closed the door behind him.

  As soon as he agreed with her demand, Tara wished she could retract it. She stared at the closed door, wanting to call him back.

  She dressed slowly, repacked her bag, and carried it down to the kitchen. She put it by the back door, and took a seat opposite Christian. He pushed a mug across to her. Picking it up, she held it close to her nose and breathed in the aromatic scent of the coffee. She took a sip, it was scalding hot, and she put the mug back down.

  “Is it so bad you can’t tell me?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “What is it you want to know?”

  “The spells around the house and the talisman, what are they hiding?”

  “They’re hiding you.”

  It wasn’t the answer she had been expecting, though maybe she should have been. The spells around the house might have had some other purpose, but the talisman could have only ever have been for her.

  “Why, what’s so special about me? I’m just ordinary. Aren’t I?”

  His eyes wandered down over her. “No, there’s nothing ordinary about you.”

  A shiver ran through her. “I’d really like to believe you meant that in a good way. But you don’t, do you?”

  Shoving his chair back from the table, he rose to his feet. He thrust his hands in his pockets, cocked his head to one side, and considered her.

  “Neither good, nor bad. We are what we are. I’ve had a long time to accept this, and still sometimes, I wonder if I should exist at all. But perhaps that’s something you still have to learn.”

  “Of course that might be easier if I knew what it is I’m supposed to be accepting. What am I?”

  “When I said I wasn’t entirely sure, I was telling the truth.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Then tell me what you think.”

  “You have demon blood.”

  For a brief moment, she presumed she’d misheard him. Her gaze shot to his face. He appeared deadly serious, and she took a deep breath. She could
cope with this. Couldn’t she?

  “Explain exactly what you mean by ‘have demon blood.’”

  “You’re part demon.”

  “Which part? Forget that question.” She picked up her coffee and drank it slowly. Her mind flashed back to those things that had attacked her in the alley that night. The red skin and yellow inhuman eyes. “You mean I’m part one of those things that attacked me.”

  “Perhaps, but there are lots of different demons.”

  She scrutinized her hand still holding the mug of coffee. Her flesh was pale, creamy, not red. “I can’t be part of one of those. I don’t look anything like them.”

  “Not all demons are the same. Those were lesser demons. Some—the more powerful ones—can almost pass for human.”

  “You hate demons. They killed your family.” Her eyes stung and her throat clogged. She’d told herself she could cope with anything and now it seemed like she’d been lying to herself. She blinked away a tear, but another spilled over her lashes.

  Christian sank into the chair beside her. He swiped the pad of his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the moisture. He uncurled her fingers from the empty cup and put it on the table, but kept hold of her hand, stroking across her palm. “I don’t hate you.”

  How could he not? Demons had murdered his family, were even now murdering his friends. More tears spilled over and this time she didn’t try to stop them.

  “Sorry, I made you tell me this and now I’m being all pathetic.” She rubbed her hand across her eyes. “I’m all right now, honest. I don’t know what I was expecting, but not that. I don’t want to be a demon.”

  He tugged her toward him, picked her up, and sat her on his lap. She turned her head into his chest, her hand clinging to the soft, slippery silk of his shirt. Leaning back in the chair, he let her cry. She wasn’t used to crying—she hadn’t cried after Aunt Kathy’s death. Now she let herself go.

  He stroked her hair. “You’re not a demon. You just have some demon blood. I’m not even sure how much. Maybe it’s just a tiny little drop.”