Mated to a Cajun Werewolf

By Selena Blake

 

Payment of the download fee for this ebook grants the purchaser the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to download and read this file, and to maintain a private backup copy of the file for the purchaser’s personal use ONLY.

 

All rights reserved.

 

Copyright ©2009 Selena Blake

 

 

 

 

Dedication

 

To Jessica and Judie, for your constant support and enthusiasm and for loving André so much. This one’s for you guys.

Chapter One

 

“It looks like this is going to be a doozy of a storm, folks. Hurricane Love is skirting Florida’s east coast right now, roaring north at fifteen miles per hour. The storm will likely make landfall between Jacksonville, Florida and Charleston, South Carolina. Cities along the coast are now under a full voluntary evacuation. Paul, how are things looking in the Weather Center?”

André Deveraux glanced up from the book in his lap and studied the gray haired man on the television screen. Behind him a large map of the Southeast showed the first of bands of rain moving across Savannah. The wide mass of swirling clouds looked imposing, even to André.

He'd gotten to the airport hours in advance of his flight with hopes of catching an earlier one, but the airport was clogged with travelers and the plane/passenger ratio was not good. The Bobs, Deveraux Shipping's lawyers, had been smart to catch a flight late last night. André had wanted another night to himself, to think over his future. Not that the extra time had helped.

“Hurricane Love is picking up speed, Don. And the barometer continues to drop. South Florida is already experiencing heavy rain from this storm. Fort Lauderdale has picked up two and a half inches in the last six hours. If you're in the path of this storm, I strongly urge you to get out of the way.” The man made a sweeping motion with his hand, away from the coast.

Easier said than done, buddy.

A sharp ring and the accompanying vibration alerted him to a call. He dug his cell phone out of his pants pocket and glanced at the number. Angelica. A sharp ache squeezed his heart and headed south.

He pressed the answer button and held it to his ear. “Hi, Angel.”

“Hiya, handsome. We were wondering if you were able to catch an earlier flight.”

He glanced at his luggage, still sitting in the same spot at his feet where he'd dropped it three hours ago.

“No. There weren't any earlier flights.”

A long pause clued him in to Angelica's worry. Ever since that week in the cabin when he and Jules had brought her in out of the storm he'd had a connection with her. Past what was normal for a brother and sister-in-law. But she'd made her choice. It was Jules who'd stolen her heart. And André had stepped out of the picture.

“I'll be fine, Angel. Don't worry about me.”

“I can't help but worry about you. You won't let anyone take care of you.”

“That's because I don't need taking care of,” he clipped. That wasn't entirely true, and he knew it. He saw what Angelica had with Jules and Sebastian with Amanda and it made him crave that closeness for himself. He was no longer used to the yearning that plagued him. He didn't like it. Didn't like wanting anything as much as he wanted a woman of his own. Someone to hold close, someone who would dote on him, be excited to see him, someone to share his life, his wealth with. But that woman was not Angel. “I didn't mean to be short with you.”

“I know,” she said quietly. She probably did. Angelica Humphrey was an amazing woman, easy-going, expressive, giving. Perfect in so many ways. And she fit seamlessly into Pack life.

“Any progress on the house?” he asked, hoping that questions about something other than him would ease some of the growing tension. When their home had burnt to the ground last month, Sebastian, his older brother and the Alpha of their pack, had declared that they would rebuild. Construction had already begun.

“Sebastian's looking for a supplier of old flooring. There was a reporter snooping around the other day but Gin and Burke ran him off. They've almost got the roof on.”

She continued talking, telling him about the plans that Amanda and Sebastian, the pack’s Alphas, were making. Only half listening, he heard something about overstuffed furniture, rocking chairs and a nursery.

He watched the TV screen and the storm that was heading to shore. Just then a voice came over the loudspeaker announcing that all flights had been canceled due to weather.

“Angel...” he interrupted. She fell silent. “They just canceled my flight. I have to go. Talk to you soon.”

“Okay. Love ya. Be careful.”

“You too.”

He ended the call and stared at the phone for several seconds. That ache was still there nestled in his heart. He'd dwelled on their relationship far longer than he should have. The pact with Jules didn't extend to mates. And even if it did, he just didn't love Angel with an all-consuming passion. He'd only felt that with one woman. The one woman he could never have.

Gathering his luggage, he headed back to the rental car counter where he'd dropped off the keys to the SUV a few hours ago. Somehow, he had to get out of here. His business was rapped up. The sale was going to go through. Sebastian would be pleased. Negotiating the throng of people, he wondered what they would do once they were no longer the owners of Deveraux Shipping.

For the last decade they'd thrown themselves into their business and for a time it had made their bachelorhood tolerable. But lately there had been a gnawing at André's gut reminding him that there was more to life than making money.

Maybe he'd travel. He'd never been to Canada or Antarctica. Maybe a world cruise was in order. He'd definitely have to consider that once he got back to Louisiana.

As he stepped up to the car rental counter, he caught a whiff of perfume mixed with warm, alluring woman. But it was distinctively werewolf too. The delicious scent teased his memory, tormenting him.

Man, he had it worse than he thought. White hot lust coursed through his veins and his cock twitched to life. Just being in the same part of the country and he was thinking he could smell her—

“What do you mean you have no other cars? As in none?” A feminine voice floated down the expanse to him. There was a trace of accent, French, and a barely controlled panic.

His head swiveled left toward the sound, and he caught sight of the woman in all her furious glory. A mane of long mahogany waves cascaded over her shoulders. The silky strands made his fingers itch to sweep them from her face. His gaze swooped lower, taking in the sophisticated charcoal gray dress that hugged her tall curvy frame like denim fresh from the dryer. Her legs, pale and bare of pantyhose, went on for miles. She wore ultra-sexy, black leather heels. And her toes, dear God, the perfectly painted red polish did crazy things to his mind.

At the same moment, his body tensed and his heart dropped. He knew the woman without having to look at her face. She’d have wide blue eyes, a perfect nose—minus the old break—and ruby red lips. She was pretty without being overly beautiful. Her special blend of quiet assurance and subtle seduction could have a man eating out of the palm of her hand with a single lick of her lips.

André knew that, knew her, all too well. Juliette Vassar was the one woman in all of Savannah, non...the world, that he'd hoped to avoid on this trip. He'd sworn to himself that he would not search her out and yet here she was. Were the stars in alignment? Were the Fates playing tricks on him?

She flicked her hair over her shoulder, showing off the creamy column of her neck. He swallowed a groan and slowly traced the profile he knew so well.

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

“Was that an invitation?” André jerked his gaze to the short blonde behind the counter. She gave him a willing smile.

He raised an eyebrow and then sat his briefcase at his feet. “I’m going to need the SUV again.” He tried not to notice the disappointment in her eyes.

How the hell was he going to get out of here without Juliette seeing him? Like him, she had a killer sense of smell, and he was willing to bet his life that she still felt the bond between them just like he did.

It would pull them together like magnets if he let it. All those years ago, they hadn't just been in love. He hadn't just worshiped the ground she walked on, adored and desired her. Non. He'd mated with her. For life.

Overhead a voice blared through a speaker. “The weather service has issued a voluntary hurricane evacuation—”

“Great,” André muttered as the crowd around him surged into chaos.

“If you'll sign here, Mr. Deveraux.” He took the pen she offered and scrawled his signature on the line.

“What about you? Do you have any cars left?” Juliette's voice was closer this time. André grabbed the keys to his rental and turned to gather his things. His gut tightened into little knots. Just turn around and walk away.

But he couldn't. Sighing, he turned back to see her blue eyes glimmering with hope and a hint of desperation.

“No, ma'am. I'm afraid not,” the attendant said in a thick southern accent. André didn't like the way the man behind the counter ogled Juliette. Didn't like it one little bit. But he pushed the feeling aside and picked up his briefcase.

One by one the counters closed.

“I can take you wherever you need to go, cheri.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Inwardly, he grimaced.

Juliette turned toward the dreamy masculine voice. Deep, gravelly, she'd know it anywhere. That same voice had starred in all of her fantasies from the time she'd understood the attraction between men and women. Seductive words whispered in her ears as a young woman had caused her to lose her heart to its owner centuries before.

But that was a long time ago. She pulled her shoulders back and sucked in her stomach. Then she turned slowly, telling herself she would not cave in to him again. She would not forget what he'd done to her brother. She would not forgive him.

So she said the only thing guaranteed to put emotional space between them. “Aren't you on the wrong side of the river, swamp rat?”

He didn't so much as flinch at her words. What the hell was he doing here? And why did she feel the overwhelming urge to step into his arms and hug him?

Ah hell. This wasn't what she'd expected when she came back from France. For starters, she'd expected to be able to rent a car. She shot the dweeb behind the counter a barely contained look of disdain. Not that it was his fault but she needed to get out of here, get to her family's estate, and it seemed like all the cars in the city had been rented.

Taking a deep steadying breath, she stepped toward the last rental counter. The one André Deveraux stood in front of...looking hotter than holy sin. The expensive looking suit hugged his body to perfection, showed off those broad shoulders and trim waist. The crisp black fabric only added appeal to his tanned skin and silky black hair. Heaven help her, he looked good enough to eat. The epitome of tall, dark, and dangerously handsome. He made her tail twitch. Always had. She was terrified he always would.

“And you, mademoiselle,” she said to the blonde clerk who eyed André like a piece of chocolate. “Do you have any cars available?” Juliette cocked her head and prayed that the other woman's answer would be yes.

“I'm sorry, ma'am. Mr. Deveraux reserved our last one.” Juliette didn't miss the way the little southern tramp's blue eyes lit up when she said Mr. Deveraux. Not that Juliette could blame her really. She'd fallen into the trap of his dynamite sensuality. That knowledge just pissed her off more.

Her temperature rose another degree and she resisted the urge to fan herself. Had she only been away a year? Surely it hadn't been long enough for her body to lose all acclimation to the climate. How did this place stay so hot and humid without melting right off the face of the planet?

She cut a glance at the big man a few short feet away. So close she'd be able to touch him if she stretched her arm out. The corner of that handsome mouth pulled up a quarter of a centimeter. Her breathing grew shallow. Dieu, he was handsome. Male perfection.

Chill, Julie. Just chill. Don't let him know how much he affects you.

She adjusted the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “So, why are you here?” Truth be told, he was the last person she'd expected to come face to face with. This was only meant to be a short trip. Just long enough to sell the estate, tie up loose ends, and say goodbye to her past.

Which sounded like she had a plan for the future. If only that were true.

“Business meeting,” those kiss-me lips said.

“Ah.” He was taller than she remembered. She was tall for a woman and her heels gave her another three inches. But he...he towered over her. Broad, hard, muscular in all the right places. The top button of his crisp white shirt hung open revealing a sexy V of tanned skin. She'd kissed that very spot dozens of times.

“About dat ride—” he began but she cut him off with a shake of her head. She couldn't accept a ride from him, no matter how much her heart begged her to do exactly that. André Deveraux was and would always be off limits. Her family may no longer be alive to keep up the feud, but they'd roll in their graves if they knew she'd gotten back together with the man who'd murdered her brother.

And getting into a car with him would surely be the first step to getting back together because where André was concerned, she had less than zero willpower.

No. Better to not even tempt herself.

Who was she kidding? She was already tempted.

“No thanks. I wouldn't want to keep you from your meeting.” And she couldn't take the chance that she'd either cold-cock him or kiss him. The best thing to do was walk away.

So she did. Turned on her sexy little Donna Karan stilettos and started down the concourse.

“Ugh, the exit is the other way,” André said, his voice lifting over the flurry of passengers. 

Juliette stopped. Of all the times to look like a complete imbecile. She bit back a choice word and turned toward him again. But he was already striding down the corridor. She didn't miss how all the women turned to watch him go by.

Damn the man. And what he did to her insides.

 

* * * * *

 

André put the key in the ignition and turned it to the right. The big SUV revved to life. He sat there for a moment looking out at the gray sky and drizzle of rain. Why was she here? Of all the times to run into her, why now? He smacked the steering wheel and closed his eyes.

The image of her long smooth legs filled his mind. He didn't have to reach far into his memory to remember all the times those gorgeous lean limbs had wrapped around his hips, locked behind his back as they'd thrust together, driving against each other toward the ultimate bliss, a completion he'd never found with anyone else.

“Fuck!”

He jerked the stick into reverse, checked the mirrors and backed out of the space. If he knew what was good for him, he'd leave her and her fine ass on the side of the road and head home.

Where is home exactly? that niggling little voice in the back of his mind asked. He ignored it and shifted to drive.

“Swamp rat,” he snarled and headed for the parking lot exit. If he was a swamp rat, so was she.

André nodded to the gatekeeper and stopped again before pulling onto the road. He turned the radio on and gazed out at the street. Packed with cars, the scene reminded him of Noah and the flood and all the animals lining up to get on the arc. As far as the eye could see, harried looking passengers, eager cab drivers, and anxious rental car drivers were heading for the hills. How long would it take to get home?

Or get a cab, that voice whispered, obviously on Juliette's side. Right toward safety or left toward her.

Right. Left. Right. Left. Thunder shook the windows and the sky opened up. He took a deep breath.

“Into da frying pan.”

 

Chapter Two

 

Still calling himself an idiot, André pulled up to the curb and put the SUV in park. Rain pounded the windshield. The wipers, going full blast, barely shed enough water to make the single line of taxis lined up in front of him visible. Passengers scurried to stow their luggage and duck inside. One by one the cars pulled away.

“Hurricane Love has really picked up speed and strength in the last twelve hours.” The pleasant voice came through the vehicle's speakers. There was an underlying tension in the announcer's tone, one that André himself felt. “She's strengthened from a category two storm to a category four. Much of the east coast is under a hurricane watch and areas from the Florida-Georgia line are currently under full voluntary evacuation. Low-lying areas are already experiencing high water and we've recorded almost an inch of rain here in Savannah. We expect officials to call for a mandatory evacuation within the hour if the storm doesn't change course.”

Yep. It was time to get outta Dodge.

Under a thin overhang stood the woman who'd captured his heart so long ago. Several dark brown bags sat at her feet and she glanced at the sleek watch on her wrist.

He lowered the window and called to her. “Get in.”

She focused on him immediately and shook her head just as quickly. “No, thank you.” Her voice carried over the steady rhythm of rain drops on the roof.

Stubborn woman.

“Come on, Juliette. You're gonna get soaked.”

Her eyes widened slightly. Most people wouldn't have even noticed, but the wolf in him picked up the slightest details. Details that often meant dinner or going hungry. Too late he realized his words had a double meaning. A phrase and a meaning he'd used with her in the past. She stayed frozen to the spot.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he pressed the button to open the cargo door and another to lower the back seats. Then he hopped out and strode over to her, ignoring the water pelting his dress shirt.

“Let's go.”

“Don't order me around, wolf,” she said quietly, her words laced with steely determination. That was new. Not that she'd ever cowered before, but in the past she had been softer, more agreeable. Stubborn yes, but she'd also deferred to him as any good bitch would do.

The problem was she'd deferred to her family's wishes more. That particular memory brought much pain and anger to the surface but he pushed the emotions away and focused on her.

“Just get in the damn car.” He picked up the nearest bag and reached for another. A small fist came out of nowhere and slammed against his jaw. His head cracked back at the impact.

André grabbed her wrist before she could pull it back. In a stealthy move, he dropped the bag and wrapped his other hand around her throat. She was so small, almost frail in his grasp. Her creamy skin stood out in stark contrast to his darker tan. For the first time, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, eyes wide with shock.

“Bad move, shewolf,” he murmured the instant before he pulled her flush against him. Her soft womanly curves gave against his harder frame, and her delicate floral scent swirled around him. A startled gasp left her lips. He saw the shock warring with longing in her eyes as he dipped his head and claimed the ruby lips that still haunted his dreams.

The passion that had always flared white hot between them raged anew. He'd never met anyone who made him lose his cool like Juliette did. No one had ever ignited his desire, threatened every last thread of control the way she did.

He loved and hated the way she pushed his resolve to the breaking point. When he’d been young and foolish he’d tried to believe that he could hold back. God knew he’d tried. But it was impossible to stay away from Juliette. And once she was this close, when the hot, powerful attraction settled around him like a heavy fog…he was a goner.

She leaned against him now, that same hand that had struck him moments ago steadied her against his chest. Her lips were soft and yielding beneath his; he teased them with his tongue. She tasted of chocolate and wine. Rich, warm, tempting. Oh yes, he could drown in her and die a happy werewolf.

She'd always been like this. Fiery hot one second and sweet and supple the next. She did crazy things to his mind...and his cock.

André loosened his hold on her throat and let his hand slide into the silky strands of her hair to cup the back of her head. She moaned against his lips, and he swallowed the sound. In the back of his mind warning bells were sounding the alarm. Sex had never been the problem for them. Chemistry they had by the bucket.

It was loyalty. Her loyalty had never been to him.

And loyalty was more important than anything to him.

Before he completely lost his mind, he pulled back slowly. Where he found the strength he didn’t know, but somewhere over the years he’d learned to control his baser urges. He was pleased that his cock was no longer the boss. Neither was the beast he kept leashed just beneath the surface. The werewolf and his human side were constantly at war. And though he leaned back just enough to put an inch between them, just enough to remind his were who was in charge, he couldn't stop himself from staring at her mouth. Nor could he stop his smile when he saw how swollen those satiny smooth lips were.

Who would have thought it? A boring business meeting on the east coast was suddenly looking up. His cock jerked against the thin material of his boxers. Things were definitely looking up.

“Let me go.” But just as quickly as he'd gotten his hopes up, he was reminded of why they weren't together, why he'd spent years trying to forget this woman, to stop wanting her.

She pushed against his chest and he did as she asked, though he suddenly felt empty. She wasn't here because of him. It was all a coincidence, bad timing. When would he figure out that he could never have her all to himself? When would he remember that her loyalty was to her family? When would he get it through his thick skull that she was a Vassar and Vassars were not to be trusted?

He stepped back and gave her a long sweeping look. Trust or not, he couldn't leave her here. Who knew how long it would take her to get a taxi? Quickly, he gathered her bags and shoved them into the cargo area of the SUV.

“Give those back,” Juliette ordered, her fiery side roaring back to life. He heard her foot stomp against the pavement. “André!”

“So you do remember my name. What was it you called me before? Swamp rat, cheri?” He gave her a dark look.

She stepped out from under the cover and the rain made quick work drenching her hair and clothes. She’d never looked more beautiful. Young. Fresh. Her lips were full from his kiss, and her blue eyes flashed with fire. Sexy as pure sin.

Unable to help himself, he mentally removed her clothes, turned the frown that marred her pretty face into an alluring smile meant just for him. Damn. He was up shit creek without a paddle. He had to snap out of it and fast.

He’d drop her off wherever she needed to go and then he’d resume his to-do list. Drive home. No. Drive to Louisiana. Finish the buy-out. Collect his money and get on with his life. Traveling. Maybe Antarctica would be cold enough to cool his libido.

“Give me my bags, André,” she said in a superior tone of voice that grated on his nerves. A long slender hand with perfectly polished nails clasped over her hip and she leaned into it. “I’ll get a taxi.”

“You'll do nothing of the sort.” Though that would be so much easier, so much safer for his sanity and the beast that snarled, demanding release.

“You can't make me—”

Such childish quibbles. When would she learn? He was bigger, stronger, and far more determined.

When he made no move to follow her orders, she stepped toward the pile of luggage, reaching for one of the leather handles.

“You should have just gotten into the damn car,” he growled as he wrapped an arm around her waist, the other under her knees and lifted her. She screamed his name and a strong fist banged against his back.

He dumped her unceremoniously, but carefully, into the cargo area with her baggage. She was still screaming at him as he slammed the door shut and strode around to the driver's side door.

“When you're ready to stop acting like a four-year-old, you can come sit up front with the big boys,” he said and locked the doors.

Traffic moved like cold molasses as a mass exodus clogged the roads. André glanced at Juliette's reflection in the rearview mirror. She'd been stewing for a good ten minutes. He thought about saying something, but there really was nothing to be said. He was here. She was here. They were together. Again. After two hundred plus years of separation and distance. Fate had a cruel sense of humor.

His heart ached. So did his cock.

He glanced back again. Her gaze met his for a brief, electric moment before she jerked her head away. She flipped her wet hair over her shoulder and stared out the window. He knew she was probably catching a chill from getting drenched, but it was her own damn fault. He, on the other hand, he was fairly certain his body radiated enough heat to turn the water soaking his clothes to steam.

She crossed her arms over her ample chest. André knew she hated taking orders but that was too damn bad. He’d treaded softly around her for too long. He wasn’t a ballerina. He was a werewolf and werewolves didn’t tap dance around problems. Or women’s feelings.

But in a few short minutes it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t have to worry about her feelings. There would be no dancing, tap, ballet or otherwise. He'd drop her off at her family home and return to Louisiana as planned.

So why did that idea leave a hollow feeling in his chest?

Because she was in his life again. Because she was still the seductive beauty who'd stolen his heart, and his chance at a normal life, so long ago. For a while she'd stolen his pride as well, but during the empty years, he'd grown another pair.

Now was not the time to get used to her nearness again. She was still stubborn as a mule. And nothing had really changed.

Whatever she believed about him, about the past, he appeared to be the last ride out of town. Why was it so hard for her to accept his help? And why did she look like she would faint from exhaustion at any moment? A better question, why the hell was she at the airport? Shouldn't she be with her Pack, preparing for this damn hurricane?

He raked his fingers through his hair and tried to ignore the emptiness and the questions swirling around in his head.

 

* * * * *

 

Juliette was exhausted. The international flight that should have taken fourteen hours had taken almost seventeen. And she'd been squeezed between two stinky old men like an anchovy in a tin can.

Now she reeked, had wet, stringy hair and her skin was clammy with humidity...all of which dimmed in comparison to her capture by one very determined Alpha male.

Darn the man and his possessive streak...his need to help and control. She was plenty old enough to take care of herself. Lord knew she'd learned what responsibility was all about this last year. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, hoping the friction would chase away the chill.

So why didn't you fight him harder? a little voice whispered through her mind.

André didn't fight fair, that's why. He could charm her with a smile, leave her breathless from a single kiss, and sweep her off her feet without blinking an eye. Even when she promised herself she wouldn't fall for him again, even when she reminded herself over and over again about what he'd done to her brother, she still succumbed to him.

Knowing that, she would just have to try harder. She would have to remember that the Deverauxs were not to be trusted. Her family, God bless their souls, had always believed that to be true. Why had she not listened? The man behind the wheel had caused her nothing but grief and pain.

Okay, so that wasn't entirely true. There were years when they'd been together, sneaking around, hiding their relationship from their Packs...those years had been the best of her life. Running through the forest with him, sharing meals, sleeping at his side. Where had it all gone so wrong?

A deafening clap of thunder startled a scream right out of her throat and his dark eyes met hers in the mirror. He was most likely amused. She could see the crinkles around those dark, bedroom eyes. Though she'd tried hard over the years, one thing she couldn't forget: André's smile.

His was a smile that made her weak in the knees, slightly feral mixed with a whole bunch of wicked. Some would call it lethal. She would bet her luggage that more than one woman had actually wilted at his feet. One tug of his sensuous lips showed his happiness, amusement, and hunger.

And though his smile was incredible, his lips were made for kissing...wide, full, just begging to be kissed. They knew their way almost instinctively around a woman's body. She could attest to that fact.

Yes, Juliette was well schooled in André's art of seduction. He was the master and she, his willing pupil.

At least she had been until that fateful day. But after all this time, the memory that had once soured her stomach wasn't as sharp or painful.

Did he still think about that day? Or the days after? Was he sorry for what he'd done?

She closed her eyes and willed the images away. How, of all the days of the year, had she ended up at the airport on the same day, the same hour as him? And Dieu, why had she come home in the middle of a hurricane?

André's mother was right. The Fates did have a cruel sense of humor.

 

* * * * *

 

Movement in the back caught André's attention and he looked up from the rain-drenched road to see Juliette pulling a brown leather bag into her lap. Her long, smooth legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles. She unzipped the bag and reached inside. He heard the crinkling of plastic and saw her pop something into her mouth. His gaze flicked back to the road long enough to ensure he wasn't about to rear-end someone and then he studied her profile as she chewed.

She was more refined than the last time he'd seen her. But he supposed that years did that to a woman. Her eyes closed and a look of serenity smoothed her features. A sinful little moan escaped her lips, one he was all too familiar with.

He adjusted the front of his slacks and fought the flood of memories that her moan triggered. At one time, his kisses, his hands, his cock had elicited that sound, pulled it from her lips over and over.

Torture, that's what this was. The drive that he'd been sure would take twenty minutes at most was stretching into hours. A cop in a raincoat directed all lanes of traffic away from the airport. Reaching out, he turned on the air conditioner, mentally reminding his libido for the hundredth time exactly who the beauty in the back was and why she was here. She was the woman who'd smashed his heart into a million little bloody pieces and then handed it back to him. She was the woman whose lies had almost cost him his life. He was here on business and nothing more. And it was time to leave this Godforsaken state. And her, right along with it.

All he had to do was stick to the plan.

Drive her home. Drop her bags at her feet and get the hell out of here. Right. Stick to the plan.

Another thirty minutes passed and he began to wonder if it wouldn't just be faster to throw her over his shoulder and carry her home. Human nature was the same everywhere. People waited until the last possible minute to leave, praying for a miracle. Praying that Mother Nature would take pity on them and their homes.

He was such a hypocrite. Why had he stayed? To think over his future? Ironic that his past had just punched him in the jaw. He could have caught that flight last night with the Bobs. But he'd stayed. If he hadn't, he'd have missed Juliette altogether. He wasn't sure if that would have been a good thing or a bad thing.

An unladylike oath drew his attention from the swishing windshield wipers. Evidently she'd stewed long enough. On her hands and knees, she crawled forward, tugging her carry-on with her. The rearview mirror afforded him a perfect view of her luscious curves in the tight gray dress. His palms itched to cup the heavy globes of her breasts. God what an incredible body she had. Time had helped him forget just how sexy she was. Just how much he yearned for her.

Her normally graceful movements were stiff as she settled next to him. She dropped the bag between her feet. He eyed her hands as they clenched the hem of her dress and tugged it down to cover her thighs.

“You ain’t got nothin’ I haven’t seen before, cheri.”

She huffed out a sharp breath and snapped her seatbelt with a click. Her movements caused the silky material to creep upward a fraction of an inch. His eyes darted from the blinking traffic light to her creamy thighs and back again.

“But if you want to show me again, I won’t mind,” he murmured before he could stop himself.

“Look, André…I appreciate the ride—“

“Cut out the polite drivel, Ms. Manners. I know you wanna rip my head off and that doesn’t bother me. I was here for a job. Not you. And as soon as I drop you off, I’ll be gettin’ back to my side of the Mississippi.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“What’s her name?”

He spared a glance. She was gazing out the window, her chin propped against her fist. “Jealous?”

“Don't be absurd.”

“Them,” he said after a long pause. “My brothers and I are selling our company.”

That got her attention. She turned toward him. “You’re selling Deveraux Shipping? Why?”

She knew the name of their company? Had she kept up with him? He'd kept up his end of the bargain and hadn't contacted her since she and her family had moved to the States.

As hard as it had been, he'd closed off that area of his life. Even after she'd tossed his declaration of undying love back in his face that day in Savannah sixty years ago and told him to stay on his side of the mighty Mississippi, he'd still longed for her. At least, he had for a while. That was before he realized how stupid it was to wait for a woman who didn't love him back.

The hollowness that he'd felt as he'd left her that day was still there, a giant gaping hole in his chest. Occasionally, the hole would shrink slightly, fill a tiny bit. But it was always there, reminding him of what he could never have.

Deveraux Shipping was a recent project, started long after that fateful day they’d met down at the docks. Which meant what? She'd kept tabs on him even after that I never want to see you again business? Even now, the memory, her voice crystal clear ringing through his mind, hurt like lemon juice on a fresh wound.

“We made our money.” Plenty of it. They’d be set for a century at least. “Fuel costs mean smaller profit margins.” Which was the truth. But Sebastian didn’t want the human world to become too suspicious of a group of wealthy bachelors who never seemed to age. And no one would believe that the Deveraux men would get plastic surgery.

André was happy to sell. Office life never suited him much. Sure, he was just as much of a wolf in the boardroom as he was in the forest. Sebastian and Jules had relied on him to go for the kill. Bang out the best deals. Take no prisoners.

His attention to detail and ruthless drive to win had made their company a lot of money. But he was ready to move on to the next stage of his life...whatever that was.

“I bet you're just ready to get out of that suit.” Good God. Did she have to sound as if she were ready to strip his clothes off? He sucked in a breath and fought hard for control. Sweet control, cool calm. That goal went out the window when he caught her gaze lingering on his thighs.

“Guilty, as charged,” he admitted, baiting her. She knew him too well. Always had.

No. That wasn’t true. Not entirely. If she’d really known him, she would've understood how crazy he’d been for her all those years ago. How hard it had been for him to go up against his family and hers. To say to hell with you all. To put aside his family loyalty, to leave his pack for her.

And for what? For her to turn her back on him.

Juliette understood his primitive side. The call of the wolf. The need to change. To run. To hunt. She’d understood it, matched his cravings. She’d run with him. Hunted side by side. She’d slept beneath the stars, curled against him. Howled at the same full moon. Dieu...

His knuckles turned white as he squeezed the supple rubber. Another shrill ring alerted him to an incoming call. He released his death grip on the wheel and grabbed the phone. Jules' number flashed across the screen.

Never any peace...

“Bonjour,” he answered.

“Angelica says your flight is canceled,” his brother said without pleasantries.

“It was. Hurricane's churnin' up the weather. I rented a car.”

“Bien. Good. We need you back here rapidement. Sebastian is trying to track down notre mère.”

“Why on earth is he looking for Mother?” André didn't bother to lower his voice. Juliette had always known of the problems between mother and sons.

“You do remember that she hired an assassin to kill our cousin last month, oui?”

Of course he did. That night had ended in a semi-epic battle that had left the putrid taste of vampire blood in his mouth. And their home of twenty years had almost burned to the ground. Yes, he remembered.

“I also remember that Violet was under a binding spell and that she and Laurent have been holed up at the cabin for the last month humping like wild rabbits.”

Jules laughed. “True, true. How did the meetings go?” André had the fleeting thought that if his brothers could be untangled from their women long enough they'd know how the meetings went firsthand...but that was unfair. He didn't deride their happiness. But if he was honest with himself he'd admit he was jealous as hell. At one point he'd had it all. It being the blue eyed angel of his dreams.

But losing her wasn't Jules fault. “Everything is going according to plan. The Bobs flew back last night. We should be ready to turn everything over within the month.” He flipped on his turn signal and slowly merged with traffic.

“There's been a slight hiccup on our end.”

André's hand tightened around the phone. “Hiccup?” His mind raced with possibilities.

“A leak of information. Rumors are spreading quickly. Burke's headed down to the docks to smooth things over.” Thank God for their calm, infallible cousin. His deep voice and towering height commanded attention, and when he spoke, others listened. Everything would be all right. He would smooth things over, share a laugh, and alleviate fears.

“When will you be home, do you think?” Jules asked.

There was that word again. Home. And for the second time today André wondered where home really was. He'd lived in many places in his lifetime...most recently the sprawling estate that had been burned to ashes. But for whatever reason, it didn't feel like home. He liked Louisiana, loved the bayous, the wild beauty, unpredictable nature. But something was always missing.

“I've got to run an errand, but I'll be there as soon as I can get out of this damn traffic.”

“Are you all right, mon frere? You sound...different?” Did he? He supposed it was the shock of seeing his mate again for the first time in sixty plus years, combined with a hurricane from hell and drivers who didn't know their nose from their ass.

“I'll be fine. Give the girls my love.” He ended the call and dropped the phone into the console. The rain drizzled to a stop and the mass of cars crept forward another inch but it did nothing to improve his mood.

Juliette sat there silently until she couldn't stand it any longer. “The girls?” Her voice sounded shrill even to her own ears. Was it possible? Could André have daughters? They couldn't be his, though, could they? It wasn't supposed to work like that. A werewolf could only mate with his, well, mate. And Juliette was André's mate. And unless he died, he always would be.

The sudden thought of André dying, of never being able to see him again made her heart ache painfully. She ignored it.

“Oui.” He gave her one of those heart-melting smiles. She popped another Milky Way into her mouth to curb the lust pooling in her belly. “Amanda and Sebastian were married in June. Angelica is Jules fiancé.”

She'd be lying if she didn't admit that she looked him up from time to time. It was her silly, lovesick heart, the yearning to see his face if only in a photograph. And though the other Deveraux men were often seen out and about, especially Sebastian with his string of high profile affairs, it was rare to see André's picture gracing the pages of the newspaper. He kept to himself, stayed on the sidelines.

That was André, quiet, studious, always calculating the next move. But she hadn't heard anything of a marriage, and engagement, and a sale of their corporation. She'd been too busy trying to save Vassar Enterprises.

“And Laurent?” she asked, reaching for another chocolate.

“That's an interesting story. Evidently my mother hired an assassin to kill him. The assassin turned out to be his long lost love, Violet.”

“Your mother?” She'd always heard the rumors about the Luna of Deveraux pack...but to hire an assassin? That was surprising even for her. “Take the next left. Why would she do such a thing?”

He didn't answer but she saw his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. “Finally,” he muttered, turning south away from the traffic.

“I saw her before I left France, you know.” She popped another chocolate in her mouth, willing the chocolate to work its magic.

The car jerked to a halt and slid off the wet pavement. “You saw my mother?”

“André!” Juliette braced her hands against the dashboard.

He put the vehicle in park and turned toward her. “Explain.”

“She told me fate has a cruel sense of humor. I can see now how right she is.” The only thing that could come of their meeting today was more anguish and she had enough to last two lifetimes.

Too freaking bad her lifetime was infinite.

“What else did she say?”

“Why the sudden interest in the woman who gave you life? She told me you haven't spoken to her in two centuries.”

“You know why. And I just told you she tried to have my cousin killed.”

His cousin was luckier than her brother. “Why would she do something like that, André?” Why his cousin? Why not go after him or his brothers?

“Ask her next time you see her...if Sebastian doesn't kill her first.”

“She's your mother, no matter how much you hate her. She told me she wants the best for you. All of you.” Marie Deveraux had sounded so sincere when they’d bumped into each other on the street last week.

A string of curses echoed through the car.

“Why won't you believe me? Why do you hate family so much? Why are you always so hell bent on finding a bad guy in everyone else?” Juliette's questions echoed through the car, her hands constantly in motion as she spoke. But the more important question was why did she care?

“I don't hate family. I hate my mother.”

“Why?” She turned her body toward him, forgetting about the way her dress rode up her thighs.

“I don't want to talk about it. But you're not to speak to her ever again.” He put the car in drive and stepped so hard on the gas pedal that she fell back against her seat. Exasperated, she frowned. Men. She popped another heavenly candy into her mouth and folded her arms across her chest again. She would not beg him for answers.

But she was dying of curiosity. It was the same curiosity that had been her downfall all those years ago. From the first time she's seen him, she'd wanted to get to know him, to learn more about him, to understand him. Hah. Two hundred years and she still hadn't figured out André Deveraux.

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

André sped down the empty road, lost in thought. If Juliette knew what his mother had done to him, what she'd said to him and his brothers she wouldn't wonder why he hated Marie Bernard-Deveraux.

“André!” Juliette's startled cry jerked him from the memories and his gaze focused as the front right tire dropped off the pavement onto the soft shoulder.

He exhaled sharply and eased the big vehicle back onto the road. The windshield wipers continued swiping back and forth through the thick sheets of rain. Damn. He couldn’t let his mind wander. Not at a time like this.

Maybe later…when he was parked. Preferably in bed where he could be alone with his thoughts. Maybe then he’d let himself analyze their meeting and his reaction to the brunette beauty at his side.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Juliette tried not to notice the tenderness in André’s voice. But that was about as easy as ignoring his affect on her. The way her pulse raced at the sound of his deep voice or the way her skin heated beneath his gaze. Her body remembered every seductive thing he'd ever done to it. It remembered and craved his touch once again.

Her breasts longed for the feel of his talented hands; her nipples beaded, cried out for the pinch of his fingers. Her sex wept for his kiss, the talented mastery of his tongue.

Unable to help herself, her gaze kept drifting over to the strong sure hands that wrapped around the wheel. Those long, tan fingers had driven her mindless with pleasure more than once. And she’d be willing to bet her Donna Karans that he could do it again.

She squirmed against the leather seat and dropped her gaze to his lap. The suit was exquisitely cut, even with his large cock tenting the front. The knowledge that he was turned on, that she still turned him on, made everything feminine inside her clench with need. The desire gripping her most feminine parts was so strong she had to look away, trying to think of anything else but his erection. But the longing remained tight in her womb.

The crisp white of his shirt emphasized his tawny skin, highlighted his black hair and impossibly dark eyes. She’d learned what to look for in clothes these past few years. When had he?

No, she didn’t want to know. She wouldn’t think of the past. Her trip back to the States was necessary. It was time to settle her family's estate, decide what to keep and what to sell then she could move on with her life. Make up her mind about the family business.

Her timing sucked though. With Hurricane Love barreling up the Atlantic, Juliette should have waited another week before returning. Perhaps two. But she was here now. Of course, the hurricane might destroy the house and everything inside it which meant she'd returned for nothing. The land might be worth something, but probably not much.

“Take the next right,” she told him.

André flipped on the turn signal and skillfully maneuvered the big vehicle onto the muddy drive. The drive that normally took about forty-five minutes had turned into three hours, but they were here. Finally.

Tall grass and weeds crowded the old gravel road. She frowned. Ever since she'd fled the country a year ago she'd been paying a local landscaper to keep the grounds tidied. But as they continued down the drive, it was obvious that the crooks weren't doing their job.  The grass wasn't just unkempt, it was overgrown.

Her father, the Alpha of Vassar Pack, had always insisted on keeping a neat appearance, personally and around the estate. After his death, she'd wanted the same for their home. She'd always planned to return one day, either to live or to sell. But this was not the welcome she'd imagined.

To her right, she saw the orchard of pecan trees through the heavy rain. The nimble limbs danced in the wind, almost like they were waving at her.

“This is your house?” André’s voice snapped her attention to the main house. Her eyes focused on the dirty structure, swept it from top to bottom and left to right.

No, she wanted to tell him. That was not her house. But that was a lie. It was her house. Somehow, the once beautiful and stately manor house was now dirty, dingy, and dark. One of the evergreen shutters was askew, probably hanging on by a nail.

What an apt description that was for her current emotional state.

Assorted furniture was strewn across the front porch and piles of what looked like garbage crowded the front door.

Juliette started to shake. What the hell was going on here?

André almost reached for her but thought better of it. She licked her lips and looked down at her hands.

“My family is dead. Murdered in their sleep. Just over a year ago.” Her words were matter of fact, like she was reading from a teleprompter, like she'd said and recited them so many times that they came automatically now. “I came home from a business trip and found them, but I never found Jacque's body.  I assume that they took him.” Her hands trembled.

So that's why her eyes were so haunted. She'd lost her precious family. He turned toward her then.

Her beautiful blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. And it was as if the time, the pain, their history was silent...for a single moment. They were back as they'd once been. Just the two of them, not hearing the rest of the world. Locked in each other.

The rain and dark skies transported André back to the day that he’d first seen Juliette. The memory was crystal clear, almost as if he were reliving it. He’d been five. Not fully assured of his ability to change, he’d been in the forest zapping from his human form to that of his wolf and back again.

It was rough being a young werewolf. In a wolf’s life he was just past his teen years, but as a human, he was only a boy. A boy with the ability to become a woodland hunter. And something darker and much more dangerous. Learning to control his wolf and the beast within was all important. His mind and body were constantly at war.

He’d heard a yelp and then a rustle. Instincts on full alert, his tail had bristled and his ears perked up.

A crash to his left had him pivoting around to see a bundle of dark fur roll headlong down the embankment.

Currently in his wolf form, his senses kicked into overdrive. He sniffed the air. Two scents wafted along the forest floor toward him, telling him everything he needed to know. Werewolf. Female.

The pup landed at his feet, all paws and oversized ears. She stared up at him with big blue eyes. He saw curiosity and interest there. And he could swear she smiled. Her scent chased all others away until the only thing registering in his brain was mother’s milk and sweet puppy. She must only be three or four months old.

In the coming years she’d grow into a beauty. His wolf knew it even as the boy inside him wanted to shift. Pick her up and cuddle her close, the boy cried. André, the boy, was dying to sink his fingers into her warm fur and kiss the top of her head.

In the distance, a wolf called. The pup’s ears twitched back and forth. Then she darted into the underbrush.

André stared after her feeling oddly thunderstruck. It was like the first time he’d helped the pack take down a kill. His heart had raced to the point he’d been sure his blood would pump right out of his body. He’d wanted to lay there all day, admiring his work. And yet, he’d wanted to stick his nose in it, fill his lungs with the copper-like fragrance. He licked his lips, remembering how strong the urge had been to taste it, experience everything about it.

Something about the charming little pup made him want to do the same. Lay there and stare at her, soak in her scent. Briefly, he thought about following her, see where she went, what pack she belonged to, but that was a crazy idea.

He was on the hunt, hungry for food. Girls, pups or otherwise, shouldn’t…couldn’t interfere. He had to master his shifting abilities and prove to his brothers that he could find a rabbit and bring it back. And he had to do it before they did.

Her family had ruled her then. But no longer. Now they were dead. Gone. Murdered. The pain, the truth was there in her eyes.

“I'm sorry. So sorry, Juliette.” When he'd first met Juliette, he'd had nothing against the Vassars. Just because his family had been warring with hers for decades didn't mean he wanted to fight. If anything he'd been foolish enough to believe that they could mend the rift.

But that had been before he'd met her family. Before they'd learned he was a Deveraux. After that, everything had changed. Her passion had been the same, but her heart...was conflicted.

The voice on the radio warned of a mandatory evacuation. Juliette wiped her tears with the pad of her thumb, then the back of her finger, her gaze never leaving the house. “It was a long time ago. I came back to sell the estate and find answers,” she said a few moments later.

“Answers?”

“Who killed my family? What happened to my brother?”

And just like that, the spell was broken. “And you think you'll find those answers? In there? After all this time?”

“I don't know. Maybe.”

How the hell had he gotten into this mess? It was like he was in an alternate universe. It wasn't enough that he was a freak of nature, destined to a life of emptiness without the woman destined to be his other half. Now she was back in his life, playing with his emotions, gaining his sympathy. He wanted to bite something. Hit someone. He settled for jabbing the radio's off button with his finger.

“There's a mandatory evacuation, Juliette. Maybe you should just forget about the house till after the storm and come home with me.” Fuck. Had he really said that? And did it have to sound so damn...right?

“Forget about it? That's my life in there. My past. The answers to what happened to my family could be in there.”

“And you waited a whole year for them.”

“I was scared, André. An emotion I'm sure you've never felt.”

How wrong she was. He was scared now. Scared of losing her again, scared of opening his heart to her too.

They sat there a long moment watching the storm batter the house. He had half a mind to back up and head back the way he came, forget about his plan and take her somewhere safe to wait out the storm. The way the skies opened up told him that this place was anywhere but safe.

“I buried them. My own Pack. I buried every one of them. Out back, by the river. I burned the sheets. I searched for Jacques. For any trace of him. And when I realized I wasn't going to find him I took the next flight out of Atlanta to Paris.”

God help him, the pain in her voice made him want to hold her, protect her from ever hurting again. To hell with his plan...he put the car in reverse but didn't take his foot off the brake.

“Where are we going?”

“I'm taking you back to Louisiana with me.”

“I can't go back there. Your family must hate me.”

He reached out and took her hand. Her skin was warm and soft against his.

“My brothers never hated you. You certainly gave them reason to, but they never did.”

“I gave them reason to?” Her voice was sharp and she tried to pull her hand away. But he held on tight.

“You broke my heart, cheri. Certainly you remember.”

“You make it sound like I did it on purpose. I did nothing of the sort.”

“You didn't do anything to stop it. You didn't stand up to your family. You didn't listen to the truth. Do you remember what you told me that day? I came to Savannah to pick up Laurent and Burke, only you were the first one off the ship. You said you never wanted to see me again.”

“Let me go, André.”

“No. I like the feel of your skin against mine.”

“You always did,” she murmured.

More memories flashed before his eyes. She'd never objected to feeling his skin against hers. If anything she'd welcomed it. Over and over, she'd accepted him into her body, clinging to him, crying out his name, urging him on.

“So you remember.”

“Of course I remember. You act as if our time together meant nothing to me.”

“You seem hell bent on forgetting that we were ever together.” That old pain came rushing back. The pain of a young wolf, in love and wounded.

“I do not.”

“You could have fooled me, cheri.” He trailed his thumb over her palm. “But I don't want to argue. I can think of a far more pleasurable way for us to spend the next twelve hours.” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Really? It seems you've been itching for this argument since the airport,” Juliette said, but he could smell her desire, feel her temperature kick up a notch.

“You're wrong, cheri. This is the argument we should've had a few hundred years ago.”

She jerked her hand from his and his irritation rose.

“At one time you begged for my touch,” he reminded her quietly.

“That was before you murdered my brother.”

“Back to that, are we?” He'd run out of ways to deny his involvement in her brother's death. Frankly he was tired of trying. So he remained silent.

Juliette couldn't stand the look in his eyes. Torment and longing. For the longest time he'd denied any involvement in her brother's death. Until that day that had changed the course of her live forever. She took a deep breath but still felt the suffocating emotions, remembered the disbelief, the betrayal she'd felt in that moment.

Needing to get away from him and the memories he brought rushing back, she reached for the door handle. Rain pelted her, stinging against her bare skin as she jumped down from her seat and slammed the door. Her high heels sank into the quicksand-like slush that had once been their driveway. Picking her feet up high she started toward the porch but her left shoe stayed suctioned into the goo. A frustrated cry tore from her lips as she bent to retrieve the once beautiful shoe.

Taking off its mate, she held the pair together and looked up at the house. It seemed so far away. But in reality only a dozen steps or so. She was losing it. The fine grasp of control that she clung to all her life was unraveling fast.

She had to get inside. Needed to find the squatter that had ruined the beautiful home. It was going to take twice as long to get the place ready to sell.

Taking another step forward, her foot slid in the mud and she started to go down. But just as quickly, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and another curled beneath her knees. For the second time today she was held high against André’s chest, held as if she weighed no more than a feather and was sacred as a priceless Fabergé egg.

He was solid and warm. The definition of strength and masculine grace, he strode forward, blind to the rain and thick mud. The old wooden steps creaked under their weight. Then, in the middle of the cluttered porch he sat her on her feet. The connection was broken. Lost. The feeling of protection, gone.

She must really be losing it if she wanted protection from her brother’s murderer. After all these years, all the time that had past, her heart still had a hard time believing what her mind knew to be true. But she’d better believe it.

“Don’t look at me like that, Juliette.”

He turned and started down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” She suddenly felt panicked.

“I’m getting your luggage,” he called over a broad shoulder. Her stomach did a little flip-flop as she watched him stalk through the mud as if it didn’t bother him in the slightest. As if he weren’t ruining an obviously expensive pair of leather shoes.

“Wait!” The word was out before she could stop it. She couldn’t stay here. Not like this. No matter what was inside. It would drive her mad. She liked things orderly. Clean. Organized. He turned and stared up at her expectantly. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to straighten the tangled strands. As if doing so would somehow bring order back to her life.

Since the moment she’d stepped off the plane things had gone haywire. Nothing was as it should be. From the rental car, to André showing up, to the disarray of her family home.

This was the moment she'd both longed for and dreaded. It had taken a long time to summon her courage and let go of the pain enough to return. But now that she was here, she didn't want to turn the doorknob. She was suddenly afraid of what she might find. There was the fleeting irrational worry that her family would be inside, massacred, just waiting for her to find them again.

How could she explain to him what she was feeling? He made her want things she couldn't have, threatened her sanity. And why should she want to explain anything? She should get as far away from him as possible.

But she’d done that the last time. Run from him, from their relationship. She’d believed what her family had told her. Bought it hook, line, and sinker. Went against everything she’d known to be true…and where had that gotten her?

A lifetime of loneliness. The inability to love, to mate, to have a family of her own. She glared down at the worn boards beneath her bare feet. Her heart pounded in her chest like the steady rhythm of a horse galloping down the backstretch.

What if her family had been wrong? What if they'd lied to her? What if they'd paid for those lies with their lives?

“Nevermind.” Maybe she was dreaming the whole thing. She watched, torn between wanting him to stay and needing him to go. He shouldered her bags effortlessly and trudged through the mud and dropped them at her feet. Small clouds of dust rolled away.

Tension knotted her stomach as she looked around. “This isn't how I left it,” she murmured, wondering how she was going to get everything taken care of and get out of here before the hurricane.

André strode to the parlor window and unlatched one shutter and then the other. She watched silently as he closed them over the window and locked them in place with the bracket.

“What are you doing?” she asked, even though it was obvious.

“Helping.”

“You don't have to do that.” When she'd lost everyone she'd ever relied on and no longer had a pack supporting her, she'd learned how take care of things herself. In a world that had turned upside down, it was a comfort to know that there was one person she could truly count on. And that person, almost a stranger now, stared back at her each morning in the mirror.

“Sure I do.” He continued to the next window. “Need I remind ya that there's a hurricane comin’?”

Another clap of thunder shook the porch. “No,” she called over the rumble. “You don't have to stay, André. You can leave. I'll take care of it.”

His gaze searched the yard briefly then he started back toward her. “I'm not the one who's good at leaving.”

“Meaning I am.” She crossed her arms over her chest. He continued shuttering the windows, ignoring her.

Two could play that game.

Turning, she reached for the doorknob and twisted. The door swung open and a rancid smell hit her square in the face. Her lip curled at the odor. Momentarily she closed her eyes, thrown back to an age when her family had been at war.

With the world, other packs, the Deverauxs. It had been a century of fighting. Of death and pain.

She blinked into the darkness. More trash littered the entry hall and her stomach rolled. Had it only been a year since the southern plantation home had been polished and bright? What a stark contrast to the gloom and dust that lay before her now. Nothing was the same as it had been. The rugs were missing. So was the oak foyer table.

A crack of thunder made her jump. She caught her startled expression in the hall mirror and instantly felt foolish. She was a werewolf. Fear was not supposed to be in her vocabulary. From the moment she’d been born, those around her had drilled her strength into her brain. Her family had told her to be fearless, powerful, strong, loyal.

She’d been loyal. Too loyal, the little voice whispered. And where had that gotten her? She snarled at the woman in the dirty mirror, peeved at the argument that circled around and around in her brain more often than not lately.

It was obvious now just how sheltered she'd been her whole life. Two hundred forty-seven years old with the life experience of a nineteen-year-old.

“You’re pathetic,” she said to herself. Forget pathetic. That word shouldn’t be in her vocabulary either. She was her father’s daughter. She needed, wanted, no one.

What a lie you feed yourself, the voice murmured.

She mentally snarled at the voice. She was the Alpha of her pack now. The last one left. She had to be strong.

Her keener senses took over and she sniffed the air, listening for any sign of an intruder. Who had taken her family’s things? She stepped into the parlor, found it bare, save for a small picture of her mother hanging on the wall.

Juliette turned and crossed the hall, practically running from one room to the next, finding each one empty, covered in dust, lifeless. It was as if she'd never lived there. As if the Vassar Pack had never called it home.

Fury coursed through her, burning through her veins, warring with a sadness that threatened to bring her to her knees. She had to be strong. For the Pack.

What Pack? She was all that was left. Oh my God. She was the last one left. And there was nothing here to prove that her family had ever existed.

She stopped in front of the French doors that overlooked the river. The dark waters churned, threatening to overflow the banks. André stopped beside her and she furiously wiped away the hot tears trailing down her cheeks.

“What is it, cheri. Why do you cry?” Did he have to be so gentle? What happened to the cocky jerk who'd been bossing her around all afternoon? She couldn't be mad when André was tender. Caring.

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and then slid his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him. It felt so right. As if everything would be okay.

But that was wrong. Nothing was as it should be. Her family wasn't here. Her family home had been robbed. The family business was hemorrhaging money. And she was falling for the one man she'd sworn she would never forgive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

 

Juliette's sapphire blue eyes met his in the dimly lit hallway. She turned to him and buried her face in her hands. He could sense the emotions pouring through her, just as dark and dangerous as that river out there. Bringing her here hadn't been a good idea. He should have known about her family. He should have known she wasn't ready to face her demons.

But when would she be ready to face them? the voice asked. There's no time like the present. He shouldn't have pushed her.

“I can't go through this again, André. I just—can't.”

“Go through what?” he asked and shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't pull her into his arms. He had a feeling she needed her space.

“You. Us. It ended…so horribly last time. I don't want to feel that kind of pain again. But every second I'm with you…makes me long for you again. And I—“

“You've never been the type to separate sex and your emotions,” he supplied. “I agree with you. But I also remember why it ended last time.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and she bit it between her teeth. He reached out then and cupped her cheek in his hand. She leaned into his touch, unsure what to believe.

“Your family isn't here now to call me a liar. But they're not around to tell you to stay away from me either. So I'll say it for them. Stay away from me, Juliette. I'm not the man you once knew.”

Her jaw dropped open and her eyebrows rose.

“What…what do you mean? Are you admitting—?”

“No. I didn't kill your brother. I swear on your life that I did not kill Leon.” He let his hand drop to his side. Damn, she was beautiful, even with tears in her eyes.

“What do you mean, André? How are you not the man I knew?”

He turned back to the raging river. His demons danced around him, laughing. Past and present collided. Had it gotten darker since they'd arrived?

“Years ago your beauty enchanted me. And I believed that we could overcome anything. I believed that you loved me enough to run away with me, to leave everything behind. To take a leap of faith, Juliette. I was wrong.”

A strangled sob tore from her throat and he didn't dare look at her. He couldn't cave now. He ground his teeth together.

“You have to understand—” He could hear the tears in her voice.

“I understand completely.”

“But you admitted—”

“Think carefully, Juliette. You were crying. Pleading with me.” He glanced at her then. “Much like you are right now. Pleading with your eyes. Begging me to take away the pain. To make it stop. You believed that I'd murdered him. They'd convinced you of it.”

“No,” she cried, shaking her head as a fat tear ran down her flawless cheek.

“Yes.” His hand sliced through the air, cutting off her denial. “Yes. They'd convinced you. You'd have me believe there was a kernel of hope left? Of doubt?”

“Yes!”

Her passionate cry rang in his ears, and he studied her for several moments as the silence stretched between them.

“No. You may have that kernel of doubt now, but it wasn't there then. If it had been, then maybe none of this mess would have ever happened. But I told you what you wanted to hear. I asked you what you wanted me to say. Do you remember?”

Even now he felt sick bringing all this up again. His heart ached and his stomach soured. She just leaned against the door, shaking her head, trying to deny the truth.

Her denial fueled his anger.

She had to hear this, all of it. He had to make her believe. Because only then could she get on with her life and he with his. He gripped her upper arms, forcing her to look at him.

“I asked you what you wanted me to say. I pleaded with you. I asked you if you wanted to hear me say it.” Once again he felt his heart, what was left of it, breaking in two. “Would that make you feel better? Would that solve things for you? Could you put the pieces of your perfect life back together? Yes, I said. Yes, I killed him. And then I said goodbye. Do you remember, Juliette?”

“Like it was yesterday! Why are you doing this? Making me remember?”

“I left then. Because I thought that's what you wanted. What you needed.” He stalked away and ran his fingers through his hair. Dieu. “Somewhere deep down I'd hoped that you would come to your senses, that you'd realize the truth and that you'd come after me.” He stopped. “But instead you sent your brothers.”

“My brothers?”

“Oui, cheri. Did you tell them what I said word for word? Or just the part where I admitted to killing your precious brother?” he asked, facing her with his hands on his hips.

She held her hand to her lips and shook her head. “I didn't tell them anything.”

“I want to believe you.”

“What—?” She cleared her throat. “What did they do?”

He looked away. “I won't degrade them in death by telling you. Your memories of them should remain happy.”

“André, tell me.” She reached out to him then. “Please. Please tell me.”

He stepped forward and took her hand. “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

He took a deep breath. Prayed he was doing the right thing by telling her. “They came after me. Three of them. I told them I wouldn't fight them. I wasn't going to kill one of your brothers for real. It would have destroyed you. They beat me until I passed out. When I came to I was in the middle of the Mediterranean, watching their boat sail away.”

He struggled to remain emotionless. To tell what happened without reliving every painful punch, without remembering the clawing panic he'd felt when the waves had crashed over his head.

Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks and she cupped his cheeks in her hands.

“No. Please, André. No?”

The last word was a question, and he could read it in her eyes. Part of him wanted to save her from the pain. Again. But look where that had gotten them.

“Sorry, princess. This story doesn't have a happy ending. I'm alive, that's about as good as it gets.”

“I'm so sorry, André,” she whispered and raised up on her tiptoes. Then she pressed her lips against his, as if her kiss could soothe his wounds.

The sixth sense that had saved his ass more than once alerted him to the presence of something dark, dangerous in the room. Anger coiled around them. He held Juliette close, letting the beast inside him rush forward, ready to fight, protect.

“Isn't this charming?”

Juliette gasped and spun away from him. André turned toward the eerily familiar voice to find Jacque Vassar standing a few yards away. His hair was long and shaggy, his eyes bloodshot and lifeless. The cargo pants hugging his hips were hopelessly stained and ripped. He was shirtless, a wiry physique packed full of muscle.

André remembered him well. He had always been more brain than brawn, and never quite right in the head. It was his voice that André heard in his head whenever he remembered that night so long ago. Jacque was the ringleader that had come after André.

“Jacque?” Juliette cried. She started toward her brother but André instinctively pulled her back to his side.

“You're alive and well,” André said.

“That I am.”

“Ask him how he escaped, cheri.” She looked up at him, her smile faltering. André had a bad feeling that Jacque hadn't escaped a madman at all. He was the madman. The one who'd murdered the rest of her family.

“How did you escape, little brother?”

Jacque cocked his head to the side and studied them. “Your mate is right, Juliette, you should stay away from him.”

André could sense a change in the other man, an increased aggression. He pushed Juliette behind him. “That's not gonna happen, wolf.”

“I should have killed you a long time ago, Deveraux.”

Juliette's gasp echoed through the room and she stepped toward her brother. “It's true?”

“He killed our brother!” Jacque spat at André's feet.

“No, he didn't.” Juliette fired back.

“Why don't you tell her who really killed Leon?” André said.

Juliette turned to André with wide eyes, disbelief written all over her face. Her jaw dropped.

“While you're at it, why don't you tell her who's responsible for the death of Vassar Pack?”

“What have you done, Jacque?”

“I hate that question,” he said, enunciating each word. “Do you know how often I heard that growing up? Always living in everyone's shadow. Always the little brother. I'm not so little any more, am I?”

His eyes turned an unnatural color, bright and yet stormy.

“You did it, didn't you?” Juliette asked, sounding as if she didn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. “You killed them…”

“Sweet Juliette...you should have stayed away. You were safe in France.” His hand moved from behind his back, holding a gleaming silver sword.

The beast inside André roared to life and he let it take over, snapping his bones, stretching his muscles until a towering monster glared down at the puny human. Jacque, as arrogant as he was drunk, held the sword above his head, glancing back and forth between André and Juliette as if he couldn't decide who his target was. His indecision would cost him.

André lunged. They landed on the far side of the foyer. Jacque struck André in the back with the hilt of the sword, and tried to punch him in the gut. André sliced Jacque's belly with his claws. Grunts echoed through his mind as they rolled around the entryway. He bit down, blood filled his mouth and a mournful wail filled the air.

A sharp pain burned through his arm. He used his other to rip a hole in the other man's chest. A solid punch to his jaw jerked his head to the side. Years of fights had taught him how to fight dirty, how to win. Jacque scrambled on top of him, the tip of the sword aimed at André's chest. He bucked hard and sent Jacque flying through the front door. André leapt to his feet and vaulted over the porch, catching the other man around the waist. Snarling and snapping, he punched and sliced at his opponent. From the corner of his eye he saw Juliette standing on the porch, her arms wrapped around her, tears rolling down her cheeks. The tiniest shred of humanity pulled him from the darkness, the hatred.

André's arm gushed blood. Juliette knew what she had to do. Anger, disbelief and fury battered her, threatened to consume her, but through her rage she knew the truth. She knew who'd betrayed her. She knew what had to be done. Justice for Leon. For the Vassar Pack and for the years she and André had lost.

Her bones started to pop as she let her were take over. Her teeth sharpened, ready to rip the flesh from her brother's body. To taste his blood. To make him pay.

“André, stop!” she cried while she still had a voice. He clawed at Jacque, knocking him backwards into the mud. He turned to her then looking completely lethal.

Power coursed through her, completing her change. She took a step forward just as André cried out, pain contorting his face. Jacque’s sword protruded from his belly.

She roared with fury, her cry competing with the storm overhead. André dropped to his knees as Jacque withdrew the blade. She lunged, grabbing her brother's wrist, biting clear to the bone, ignoring his attempts to shake her loose. She used every ounce of her strength, every drop of hate and disappointment that had poisoned her for so long and used it against him until she'd bit all the way through his arm.

She ignored the taste of his flesh and the bitter blood on her tongue. Nor did she listen to her brother's screams as they filled her ears. It was too late. He couldn't plead for his life. She wouldn't have listened anyway. She grabbed the sword in her claw-tipped hands and with the speed and grace her kind was known for, she spun, her arm and sword acting as one, slicing clean through her brother's neck.

As his body fell, a howl erupted from her lungs. Grief buckled her knees and she sank into the muck, the sword dropping from her hand. Deep racking sobs claimed her as she returned to her human form. She cried for all the sorrows in her life. All that she'd lost. Everyone she'd loved.

Her tears mixed with the rain. She cried until she could cry no more. As a child she’d learned to hate such weakness, but couldn’t help herself now.

Beside her, André groaned.

“André?” She turned to him then. He lay there in his human form, his blood coloring the mud. He leaned up, sucking in a sharp breath. He looked at Jacque's headless body and then into her eyes.

“Oh, cheri.” His tender words were her undoing. A fresh wave of pain swept through her. She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth.

“I had to….I had to,” she repeated, more to herself than him. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts. “Gone. Everything's gone.”

“I know,” he said quietly, in that calming voice of his.

“I couldn't let him kill you too. I couldn't.”

André watched as her face crumpled and tears fell. Her pain was a living thing. He reached out to her. She collapsed in his arms, buried her face against his neck, sobs shaking her to the core.

Wind screamed through the trees. He closed his eyes for a moment and just held her, soaked up her warmth, let her tears wash over his skin. It was cleansing. And for a few moments, the whole world fell away until it was just the two of them again, together in each others arms. Wrapped up in each other. Comforting each other.

He felt her heartbeat thumping against his chest, the pace slowing each minute she lay against him. Her sobs stopped and she let out a shuddering breath.

“I couldn't do it,” he said, surprised as much at the words as the fact that he'd said them aloud. But it was true. He couldn't have taken Jacque's life, no matter how much he'd craved to do so. Killing the bastard would have been one more thing standing between him and Juliette. One more reason for her to hate him.

But now that she knew the truth, would she still hate him? The question made him uncomfortable. What if she didn't hate him, what then? Could they be...friends? Lovers? Could they go back to the way things had been?

No. They could never go back.

He wasn't sure he'd want to. Twice he'd tried to open his heart to another woman. And both times he'd been unable to do so. He knew now the reason. His heart wasn't his own. After all this time, it still belonged to Juliette.

He opened his eyes and stared at the dark clouds looming overhead, watched the big fat drops of rain fall to the earth. He needed a new plan. And they needed to get the hell outta Dodge.

He smoothed a hand down her back.

“You gonna be okay, cheri?” She nodded against his chest. “Why don't we go inside and clean up?”

She was as naked as he was. Slowly she sat up and glanced toward her brother's body. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Mud smudged her cheek. His gaze traveled over her creamy skin, down her shoulders to her breasts. Her nipples were hard, begging for his lips. Water dripped from the rosy tips. She could have been Aphrodite pulled from the sea. He felt a stirring in his blood as lust sizzled through his veins. But now wasn't the time. He had a body to bury.

After bringing in her luggage he headed out into the storm to find a shovel. Then he started toward the row of stones overlooking the churning river and began digging at the far end. He knew what those stones meant, what it had cost Juliette to bury her own family there.

As his injury healed, he dug faster, eager to be done. And once he’d hauled Jacque’s lifeless body to the hole and covered him, André stood there for a moment, gazing down at the freshly turned earth. He felt no sorrow that one of his kind was dead. Only the oddest sense of relief. Almost like a small part of him had been set free. Somehow, life would never be the same. The truth had finally been set free. And the bastard who’d caused him so much trouble…so much heartache and pain, was at last gone forever. He could only haunt them in memories now.

But he also knew that Jacque was Juliette’s brother. Her last remaining family. And so he headed for the river’s edge and found a large irregular stone and positioned it at the head of the grave.

Soaked to the bone and caked with mud, he walked back to the house. Wind twisted around him in bursts, shaking the trees and shooting the rain. As nasty as the storm was, it was cleansing too. Refreshing as it washed away the dirt and blood.

Juliette stood at the back door, dressed in a black skirt and silky looking top, her arms crossed over her chest.

“It's over.” Her words were quiet, solemn. “All this time he lead me to believe that you were responsible—” Her words ended on a sob. Her eyes were full of tears and agony. She held one hand to her lips, the other splayed against her stomach. “Oh my God. I can't believe this is happening.”

Her breathing became shallow and quick. Obviously overcome with grief, she passed out. He caught her easily, was getting used to feeling her in his arms again, carrying her high against his chest as if it were where she belonged. He carried her through the house and out the front door to the SUV. After settling her in the passenger's seat, he grabbed a change of clothes and went back inside for her bags. He dressed in slacks and a button up shirt, then plucked her mother's picture from the parlor wall and grabbed the single towel hanging on the stove. Back in the car he toweled his hair dry.

She didn't rouse as he pointed the vehicle toward the main road. Nor was she awake when they crossed over to Florida. What a day. What a crazy, fucked up day. He felt numb, his heart sore. She shouldn't have had to choose like that, between her brother and him.

Though the rain still fell from the sky, the world seemed almost calm around them. The big vehicle ate up the miles, putting more and more distance between them and Savannah. He was almost afraid for her to wake up. But for the first time today, he thanked God that he'd been with her when she went to the homestead. There were some things a person shouldn't have to face alone. A psychopath hell bent on finishing a massacre was definitely high on the list. That wolf had wires crossed in his head. He'd never been right.

André glanced in the side mirror and vowed to stop thinking about the lunatic he'd buried just before nightfall.

Outside of Pensacola he stopped for food. Famished, he ordered six hamburgers and two extra large drinks. As he waited at the drive-thru he wondered if Juliette had eaten anything other than chocolate today. He found it ironic that a werewolf family owned a chocolate empire. And stranger still was Juliette's addiction to cheap chocolate. There must have been ten pounds of Milky Ways in her carry-on.

He was torn between the desire to take care of her and the knowledge that she had the very real power to break his heart all over again...if he let her.

Raking his hands through his hair he stared up at the ceiling. She'd said she couldn't go through it again. But the chemistry crackling  between them had been stronger than any he'd ever known. But with that heightened emotion, the incredible physical connection had come an equally incredible pain. A loss that had brought him to his knees. Could he risk feeling that way again? Did he dare open himself up to that again?

Taking the big bag of burgers and the drinks, he glanced at the sleeping woman in the seat next to him. He'd have to play this one close to his chest, give nothing away. It was her turn to lay her cards on the table.

     

 

Chapter Five

 

The steady sound of tires eating up the pavement filled her ears. Juliette propped one eye open, then the other. Darkness embraced them, the rain gone. How long had she been sleeping? Sitting up, she tried to get a hold on her bearings. The scent of food made her stomach growl. The big man at her side chuckled and then dropped a bag into her lap.

Inside she found three hamburgers.

“Aren't you having any?” Her throat was raw, dry.

“I had three already.” That made her smile. Some things never changed. Like his appetite.

She sobered. Or the way he took care of her. She snuck a covert glance at her mate as she unwrapped the first burger. She devoured it, then another, taking a long gulp of cola in between. “Where are we?”

“Nearing the Florida/Alabama border,” he said just as they passed a sign for a rest stop. “Let's stop and stretch our legs, shall we?”

“Sure.”

“Don't sound so thrilled, petite. You'll be rid of me, if only for a few minutes.” There'd been a time when she hadn't wanted to be separated from him for an instant. She could have gladly given up food and water if only she could have stayed locked in his embrace. But right now she was entirely unsure where they stood. Everything had changed. Everything was a jumbled mess.

He pulled into a parking space and cut off the engine just as she finished the last hamburger. One of the things she liked most about being with André was that she didn't have to hide her appetite. Being a werewolf meant consuming tons of calories. Her metabolism worked overtime and she was always hungry. Eating the chocolate helped. She glanced around for her stash.

“Did you bring another pair of shoes?” he asked, staring at her bare feet and the ruined stilettos.

He didn't have to remind her how her shoes had been ruined. Just staring into his dark eyes brought the memories flooding back and an excruciating headache right along with them. She winced and massaged her temples. Did he have to be so damn caring? It just made her want to crawl into his lap and forget this day had ever happened. He was so in control. She envied that. But then, he was Alpha material. A leader through and through.

Closing her eyes, she fought for control. Just when she thought her defenses against André were in place, he did something to chip away at the wall. Without hesitation, he'd buried her brother's body. Her brother who'd murdered her family...every last one of them. Who'd stabbed André in the back. She was now truly the last Vassar.

Fighting off tears, she nodded. “Yes. They're in my bag.”

He got out and slammed the door. Salty, warm air filled the space he'd left.

After a few seconds of rifling through her bags, he opened her door and a pair of black, ballet flats dangled from his fingers.

“Will these do?”

“Perfectly.”

“Give me your foot.”

“I don't think that's a good id—”

“Just do it, Juliette.”

She swiveled in her seat, doing her best to keep her skirt pulled down and her legs together. Touching André always got her into trouble. And after everything, her feelings were so raw she wasn't sure if she could trust her emotions, much less the lust that was fizzing through her veins like tiny champagne bubbles. She was having a hard time remembering that tomorrow the sun would come up again, shining the harsh light of reality on her life. Pain and darkness, combined with André's warm hands, made her want to forget her reservations, her inhibitions. In all honesty, she wasn't sure how to act around him now, especially after the way she’d acted on arrival. Her anger had vanished hours ago.

Slowly, seductively, he slid a shoe onto each foot. His hands were warm against her skin, gentle and sure.

“You remind me of Prince Charming,” she murmured, before she realized what she'd said. Eager to cover her blunder, she moved to step down but his hands wrapped around her waist and he helped her to the ground. Her body slid against his, reminding her just how strong he was and how muscular he was under his clothes. More than that, it reminded her of all the times when their bodies had slid together, joining, driving against each other, sweat slickened skin against skin when they'd made love.

“I never claimed to be Prince Charming,” he said quietly. She searched his face and saw the man she'd loved more than life itself. But he was different. Harder, older, even more handsome. Devastatingly handsome.

His head dipped toward hers and she couldn't summon the strength to turn away. Wasn't sure she wanted to. Their lips met in a kiss so gentle it stole her breath. Their relationship had never been like this...a soft exploration. Tempting and sweet.

In the past they'd been frenzied, primitive, their true nature driving them together with breathtaking passion. She'd been mindless, unable to help herself.

Oh, the passion was still there, carefully concealed. His lips were purposeful, searching, taking. And she was quickly becoming breathless.

His arms, strong around her back. Her body blossomed beneath his hands. It was almost as if he were taking his time. Exploring. Memorizing. She let her hands mold to the taunt muscles beneath his shirt, reacquainting herself with each one. Just as he'd said, he was different. A little broader, slightly harder, but still her mate in every way.

If she wasn't careful...with the mystery of her family's death solved, now that she understood just what André had gone through...it would be twice as easy to lose her heart.

But there was still so much between them. Things left unsaid. Could he forgive her?

“André, please,” she whimpered against his lips. She had to slow down.

His lips trailed across her cheeks, nose and forehead. The white hot passion between them was dangerous, threatening to consume them...but a gentle reunion threatened her in a whole new way.

She couldn't succumb to his sensual mastery until they'd cleared the air once and for all. But would he still want her when he knew the truth?

“Please what, amour?” he asked between kisses.

“Let me go,” she said, finally finding her strength. Her body cried out for her to stop, but she commanded her feet to move.  Stepping past him, she started for the line of trees on the other side of the rest stop. She had to get away from him, clear her head. Find the right words. He was like a drug that clouded her brain. Threatened her sanity.

Her footsteps in the grass moved away from the sound of traffic on the highway. As she slipped through the first row of trees she realized she wasn't alone with her thoughts.

Though he said nothing, she could hear André following her.  The woodsy scent reminded her of the days when they used to meet in the forest. She'd waited for him there. Waited to step into his strong arms, place her hands against the solid wall of his chest and beg him to take her.

To make love to her. To complete her in a way only he could.

She bit her knuckles and forced herself to keep moving; sticks snapped beneath her feet. Tears filled her eyes. Why was this happening? Why now? Hadn't she suffered enough?

André followed Juliette across the rest stop and into the woods. He could hear her quiet sobs and each one stabbed into him like a knife. He'd never meant to hurt her. He wasn't even sure how he'd hurt her. But she was hurting, crying. Her shoulders were slumped and quivering. He reached out and touched her mind. Her thoughts were tangled with emotions. Chaotic. Full of pain and questions. And so much shame. She was worried…about her betrayal?

That made him pause for a moment. She had betrayed no one.

He kept searching her mind. Deep down hid a kernel of hope.

He found her leaning against a pine tree deep in the forest. Her head was bowed and she wiped at her eyes. Motionless, he watched her, waited for her to say something. Now that she knew the truth about what had happened to him that night, and what had happened to her family, relief swept through him. No more secrets. She still had so much to grieve for though.

He knew he should give her time to heal. Space so she could process everything she’d learned. Centuries of lies and bitterness could be laid to rest.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to let her cry alone. No matter what she’d said, done, in the past he found himself sympathizing with what she’d been through.

Finally she looked up.

“How did everything go so wrong? How could I have lived with him all those years and not known the truth?”

“He didn't want you to know, cheri.”

She stared up at the sky and blinked away her tears. “You'd think I would have smelled Leon's blood on his hands. He fooled us all. My parents. Everyone.”

He remained silent.

“He didn't fool you, did he?”

André put his hands on his hips and stared down at the pine needles littering the forest floor. “I always suspected that he wasn't right. In the head. That night, when your brothers came after me, he was the ringleader. But almost terrified of throwing a punch.”

“All brains and no brawn,” Juliette murmured.

Unable to help himself, André stared at her lips, torn between standing fast and offering her comfort. But she didn't want him. For all his cunning, he was really dumb. Not five minutes ago she'd pushed him away, told him to let her go. How many times did he have to be told?

Even after all this time, it hurt like hell. Worse than any wound he’d ever received in battle.

“Do you think there will be anything left?” she asked as he turned away from her. “After the storm, I mean.”

“Depends on where it hits.” There was a long pause.

“I don't think I'll care if the whole thing gets blown away.” She gave a harsh little laugh. “Between the sinking ship that is the family business—” That confession had him looking over his shoulder at her. “Losing everyone I ever loved...losing the house won't hurt so much. I'm pathetic, I know.”

The way she was staring at him made him wonder if she included him in her list of those she'd loved and lost. Would he ever understand women?

“A fresh start, isn't dat what you wanted?”

“Doing what? I'm a werewolf with no pack. No family. No career. And pretty soon, I may be homeless.”

“You could always go back to France,” he said, hating the very idea.

After a long silence she said, “France is home to Vassar Enterprises...as for me, I'm not sure where home is.”

That made two of them.

“What will you do once you sell Deveraux Shipping?” She wiped away a tear with the backs of her fingers.

Her question startled him. Not because he hadn't thought about it, but because she was thinking about it. He wanted to believe her inquiry meant she was interested in his future, in being a part of his future, but he wasn't about to get his hopes up. Not yet anyway. Not with her still playing hot and cold.

Who the hell was he kidding? Where Juliette was concerned, his hopes were perpetually up.

“Travel.”

Alone? She wanted to ask. She thought back to all the years she'd been surrounded by her family, a part of the Pack. She realized now that her love for André had separated her from everyone. She'd always been alone. Always holding a piece of herself back. A piece that had gone missing when she'd pushed him away.

She was tired of being lonely. Of being alone. Of sleeping in a cold, empty bed. Solitary meals. If she reached out to him now, would he accept her? Physically they were still a perfect match...but did he still love her? Could he believe her? Would he push her away?

He must absolutely hate her.

“I tried,” he said and she realized she'd spoken aloud. “God help me, I tried.”

She swallowed hard as he turned back to her.

“Can you ever forgive me?” she asked quietly, afraid of the answer. She'd betrayed their love, chosen her family above him. What kind of person was she to stare true love in the face and hand it back?

He cupped her cheek in his hand. She leaned into his warmth. The call of a hunter. Instead of answering, he lowered his head and claimed her lips. His arms wrapped around her, cradling her. Once again she was swept away by a sweet tide, a tenderness that made her feel cherished.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, calling herself a fool and worse. Why had she ever let him go? Why had she pushed him away? She should have known better. He was her family. He was the only one who mattered and he always had been.

From that first day they'd met, he'd been steadfast in his love. Devoted. Passionate. And God help her, she'd shredded his love.

Crying out, she tore her lips from his.

“Did I hurt you?” He loosened his grip on her waist. She shook her head. In all the years she’d known André, the only time he’d ever hurt her was when he’d never answered her letters. All those years she’d written to him, somehow expecting him to forgive what she’d made him do. Forgive her.

She stared at André's lips. Her body cried out to feel his possession once again. He was right. He had changed. Where he'd once stormed her defenses like a battering ram, he now chipped away at the shell around her heart, slowly warming her. Lulling her into temptation.

She leaned into him, relishing the feel of all his hard muscles beneath her hands. He cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as his tongue plunged between her lips. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and her breasts crushed against the solid wall of his chest.

Delicious. Absolutely delicious.

Love filled her, warmed her, washed away all the anger and the pain. She felt like she'd just stepped from the shadows of hell into the sunlight. Everything would be okay. Whatever the future brought she'd meet head-on. She would win back his love. She would fight for him. She would seduce him.

His lips trailed down the column of her neck. Her body remembered his bite. She felt the invisible mark sizzle just beneath the skin of her neck. She'd bound herself to him that day, taken him as her mate for all time when she'd taken him inside of her, submitted to him. He brushed her hair aside and traced the path where his teeth had sunk in with his tongue.

God, she craved him. Wanted him. No. Needed him. Her hardened nipples brushed against his chest, her hips pressed against him, cradling his erection. She sank her fingers into his hair and kissed every inch of him that she could reach. The newfound tenderness disappeared and their old passion returned.

Vibrant. Needy. Fast. They touched and kissed everywhere, a frenzy of desire taking over like a breaking damn.

“Make love to me, André,” she whispered against his lips.

He went perfectly still. For a moment she thought he hadn't heard her, but then he backed them up until her back hit a tree.

“No.” He broke the kiss and stared down at her. The word ripped through the fog of lust.

“No?” she echoed. Bewildered, she stared up at him, then to the left and right. Was he afraid someone would see them? Hear them? She couldn't even see the highway from here. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

He released his grasp on her hair. “No. I won't make love to you. Making love implies I love you. And you love me.”

“I—“ He held a finger to her lips, silencing her protest. She felt all the love and hope freeze inside her.

“Your emotions are raw and you’re confused. You’re horny. You’ll get over it.” He turned away from her, leaving her to stumble against the tree.

“You son of a—” She lunged at him. He turned as if he’d known what she would do before she did it and caught her against him. They toppled backward. Andre took most of the blow but quickly turned her beneath him, holding her hostage against the soft grass.

“Bitch? How right you are.” He stared at her lips.

“Let me go!” Her eyes burned, but no tears came.

“I told you, you should have stayed away from me, Juliette. Problem is, now that I've had a taste I don't want to let you go. Are you wet for me, cheri?”

She wanted to deny it. Vehemently. Tell him that she was dry as sand and that she'd never be wet for him again. But that was a lie even she couldn't tell. And it wouldn't matter any way. He was a werewolf. He could smell her desire just as easily as she could smell his.

The intoxicating concoction that fizzled through his blood made her want to lick him. Nibble him. Get down on her knees and make him take his words back. He had to love her.

Didn't he? Had he forgotten? They were mates. He was hers and she was his. She bit her lower lip and blinked back tears.

If they weren't together they couldn't be with anyone else. That's the way it worked. Werewolves mated for life and she'd attached herself to this one.

Two hundred years ago.

Two hundred years was a long time to go without her other half.

“I can smell you, petite. Don't bother to deny it.” He shifted their position and held her arms high over her head. She fought him but was no match for his strength. Something rough scraped her skin. His other hand smoothed down her stomach and rubbed against the apex of her thighs.

“Mmm.” Juliette couldn't stop the sound humming up her throat. She hated her weakness. She hated that he made her want him even as he was breaking her heart. Her whole body called out to his. If she'd been a feline she would be purring, loudly, at this point.

André's hand traveled farther south until it snagged the hem of her skirt and pulled it upward. Cool evening air rushed against her skin.

“Still soft as a kitten,” he murmured and nuzzled her cheek.

Oh André.

Yes, petite?

Damn, he was reading her mind. Not good. Not good at all. Quickly she steeled herself.

“Why won't you let me in, cheri?” His hand trailed over her hip until he encountered her panties. “Could it be because I'll find out all your secrets?”

She gritted her teeth. “You just told me you don't love me and you wonder why I won't let you in...”

She saw it then, the lines of tension in his face, the lie in his eyes. He was playing her, trying to make her believe she didn't matter, that he didn't love her. He was making her work for it. He’d always been too smart, a master manipulator.

She supposed she deserved that. And more. She had one more secret to tell before everything would be open between them. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how to say the words.

He hooked his thumb over the thin fabric and she sucked in a breath. He looked at her through hooded eyes.

“I don’t think you want me to make love to you sweetheart. What I think you need is a good fuck. Like old times. Hard, fast, before anyone can catch us.” His voice was quiet, rough.

She huffed out a breath. “You crass—“

“Bastard? You’re right about that too.”

Now was certainly not the time to divulge her secrets or declare her feelings. The wolf inside her wanted the same thing he did. That hard, fast fuck on the forest floor. One that would relieve all the stress of the day and surely please her.

She shifted her hips against his erection, a sign she knew his wolf wouldn’t miss. With her head cradled against his arm she stared up into the same dark eyes she had all those years ago as she’d declared she would love him forever.

His free hand snaked up her body and closed over her breast. He leaned in close, hot breath fanning against her cheek.

Closing her eyes, she remembered that moment. How powerful she’d felt, how secure in her love. They’d been made for each other he’d said. Two sides to the same coin. Somehow things had gone awry.

She wouldn't be so easily swayed again, not by him or anyone else. She wouldn’t let him scare her off or change her mind. For once she was going to fight to the death for what she believed in.

And she believed in him. Her. Them.

“I will fuck you until you scream my name,” he whispered, taunting the beast inside her.

“And you will scream mine,” she whispered back, pressing herself against him again. Then she claimed his lips, letting her love and passion surround him. Shamelessly she pressed herself into his palm. He pinched and tugged at her nipple, priming her.

“Mmm,” she moaned and nipped his chin.

Damn, she'd missed this. Missed him. She'd be lying if she denied it.

His teeth grazed the tender flesh at her neck and she tipped her head in the other direction to give him better access.

For a brief moment Juliette had let him in and her voice had resounded through his mind like a siren song. But just as quickly she'd shut him out. She was hiding from him. Planning something. André didn't like it.

She would pay for that. Slowly.

He licked her skin. She tasted delicious, rich, sweet, feminine. Everything he remembered. Her scent—warm, aroused woman—filled his lungs. He sucked softly, but hard enough to leave a mark. She made soft mewing sounds in her throat and rubbed her torso against his. Her wrists twisted in his hand and he tightened his hold.

Clutching the fabric of her panties he gave it a good, hard jerk. He tossed the scrap to the ground and sank his fingers into her flesh again.

“You won't be needing those anymore.” Her startled gaze met his. “In fact, I don't think you should wear underwear ever again.”

“André—”

He cut her off with a kiss. His tongue swept inside her mouth, searching, tasting. She quieted instantly, went slack against him. Her tongue touched his hesitantly.

It felt so good to hold her, to put his hands wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. To kiss her like he'd dreamed of doing for far too long. He nibbled at her lips, reminding her how much he wanted her. Telling her without words that he wanted to eat her up.

She startled him by sucking his bottom lip into the warmth of her mouth and biting down gently. He pressed against her, crushing her against the ground. She winced and he pulled back.

Before he could apologize, she kissed him, full on, tongue-in-his-mouth kissed him. He'd always loved this feisty side of her nature. The surprises she gave him.

She hooked a leg over his hip, opening herself in a way he found impossible to resist. He let go of her breast and slid his fingers toward the tangle of curls between her thighs...only...there were no curls. A growl rumbled through his chest. Slick, smooth skin parted beneath his fingers. He sank them deep inside her, relished the breathy gasp on her lips.

“I told you you'd get soaked,” he whispered against her ear. She jerked her hands from his and reached for the button of his slacks. She made quick work of freeing him. Her hands were cool around his cock, small and smooth. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck.

“I've waited a long time for this...to feel you inside me again.”

Her words pleased him more than she could ever know.

Wordlessly, he lifted her hips, and angled his cock at the entrance of her pussy. He held it there, watching her face, the passion in her eyes. She licked her well-kissed lips.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked.

Words that would never come. “Nothing.”

He thrust inside her. The warm wet walls of her pussy clutched him, swamped him with sensations he hadn't felt in forever. Sensations that almost made his knees collapse. He adjusted his stance and began a slow in and out rhythm.

A moan tore from her lips, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her legs locked around his hips. They fit together like two pieces that made up one puzzle. Everything felt right. For the first time in centuries he dared to hope.

“I have to taste you, petite.” He stopped his thrusts just long enough to pull her shirt up and the cup of her bra down. He stared at the delicate peak in the darkness. Memories flooded his mind, memories of her blossoming into womanhood, giving herself to him, taunting and teasing him with her delicious ripe body. Unable to think straight, he dipped his head and suckled her into this mouth. She was both satiny soft and rigid. Back and forth he laved her with his tongue, heard as much as felt her breathless little pants for air, the husky words of encouragement.

Sated for the moment, he let her nipple pop from his mouth...then he sank into her again.

“So good,” she murmured.

“Fucking great,” he agreed as he thrust deeper, his pelvic bone grinding against hers.

“Faster, André.”

He groaned and sped up his movements.

“Yes. Yes!”

He sank his fingers into the soft ground, trapping her. Her thighs squeezed his waist, urging him on. Grunting against her temple, he fucked her for all he was worth.

She was tight, so tight. And wet. Delicious sweet friction gripped him, drove him toward the orgasm he knew would blow his mind.

Just before it hit, she screamed his name. He slanted his lips across hers, swallowing the sound and then groaned, loud and long, as he spilled himself inside of her.

 

 

Chapter Six

 

“We’re starting to see downed power lines now. The wind is just tremendous, Tom.”

Juliette watched the intrepid reporter braving sheets of rain and debris on the television. Crazy man. The camera wavered for a moment, tilting precariously as a flooded street filled the screen.

The weatherman back at the station, high and dry, told his colleague to stay safe. Then he showed a map of the hurricane and its relation to the coast between Savannah and Charleston. Despite her recent heartache, she still loved that house. She loved the memories she’d made there. Well, most of them.

Jacque’s betrayal would be better to forget.

“Still watching the weather?” André asked, sauntering into the room in his uniquely masculine and yet unpretentious way. He’d been fairly quiet since their arrival in New Orleans the night before. For some reason, he’d rented them a hotel room. Together. And she’d been unable to resist sharing his bed.

He placed a framed photo on the end table and then reached for the remote.

She recognized that frame. Her mother’s picture stared back at her. Oh mom. How had it all come to this? Her, in a hotel room with André? Her family dead? Sure, she had relatives in France, but none she wanted to claim.

Juliette lifted tear filled eyes to André. He was watching her so closely she felt chills on her skin. Did he know—no, he couldn’t.

She stood and raised a hand to cup his cheek. You’re a good man.

He shook his head.

She could tell by the distant look in his eyes he was in a dark place, fighting his way out of it.

“I’ve said and done a lot of horrendous things.” His gaze swerved to hers. Was he including things he’d said to her? Did he regret what he’d said last night? How he’d tested her?

The past was the past. And even though she’d clung to a lie for the better part of two centuries, it had been easier than facing the truth. It had kept him alive.

“We both have.” He wasn’t the only one to blame. Good God, she’d said some truly horrible things to him. Things that made her want to bite off her own tongue. But it’d all been for him. Even as she was telling herself that he deserved it. That he’d killed her brother. It’d been so much easier…

“How about a game of checkers? There’s nothing we can do about the storm.” His mood seemed to shift, as if he was pulling away from the deep emotions that crackled between them.

He was right. There was nothing they could do about the storm. And nothing they could do about the past. They could live in the here-and-now…for however long that was. She really didn’t want to think any further than an hour from now.

She nodded and he turned off the TV. The large armoire held a wide assortment of colorful game boxes. Many she recognized and plenty she didn’t. Checkers she could handle. Simple. Straightforward. No touching like in twister. And no strategy, like Risk, that would make her think too hard or too deeply.

André took up a position on the opposite side of the coffee table and laid out the board and pieces. She pulled her bag full of chocolates closer, thankful for the sugary confection’s mood lifting abilities.

There’d been a time long ago when she’d thought her life would be exactly like this. Spending her day with André. Nothing pressing on her agenda other than spending time with the man she loved.

She loved him still.

Regardless of what he’d said at the rest stop, there was no use in denying her feelings. Never again.

Three losses later, André still didn’t have his head in the game. He hadn’t won a single round yet and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d acted the other night. Sometimes the beast just got the best of him.

Like when he was near her…smelling her. Feeling her heat. Tempted by her soft skin, gorgeous hair, or soulful eyes. As he stared across the chessboard at his mate he asked himself, not for the first time, why he was here with her. Why he hadn’t gone back to his pack and left her to her own devices. Surely that’s what a sane, logical man would do. She needed time to figure out what she wanted. To let her emotions even out.

But André was never sane or logical when it came to Juliette. And after that passionate tryst at the rest stop, and their frantic merger upon arriving at the hotel, well, there’d be no getting her out of his system now. At least not without a crowbar and another two hundred years.

She tipped him right over the edge of rationality into a place he didn’t want to name. Like now.

Juliette popped a chocolate candy in her mouth and gave it a slow, deliberate chew, obviously savoring it. A simple game, okay, three games, had turned into an inspection of everything he found delectable about her. The way her lips moved. The way her brow furrowed in concentration. It was like the years separating them had vanished into thin air. But the memories were still there. And so was the chemistry.

He wasn’t an adolescent. Why did he let himself get worked into such a lather? Over a woman who’s future was completely in the air. Did she-didn’t she? Would she?

He needed to go for a run.

“I’ll join you.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond before she disappeared into the bedroom. What could have only been half a minute later, just long enough for him to realize she’d been reading his mind again, she emerged wearing—

“What the hell is that?”

It looked like paint. Black paint. From mid thigh of just below her belly button. And then scant inches of delicious midsection lay bare for all the world to see. Gray paint hugged her breasts.

“My running outfit?”

That’s not a running outfit. It’s not even decent.

How the hell would he hide a hard-on in his gym-shorts? Fuck. How the hell would he run with a hard-on?

He brushed past her, needing to get her out of his sight. Her and all that lovely skin. And spandex. Dear God, the spandex.

When he emerged a few minutes later, ready for his run, Juliette was bent at the waist, her hands wrapped around her thighs as she stretched. His cock twitched against the soft material of his boxers. How in the name of all that was holy and unholy was he supposed to control himself when she did things like that?

She stood up, her cheeks a rosy pink, and smiled at him. He tossed a shirt at her and grabbed his keycard off the end table.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A shirt.” He turned and pegged her with what he hoped was an uncompromising glare. Truth be told he was a nanosecond from tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her into the shower. A cool shower. To work off some pent up steam.

“I don’t want to have to kick some guy’s ass for groping you.”

“Possessive much?” she shot back, not missing a beat.

“With you,” he let his gaze rake over her, “always.”

He didn’t miss the way her nipples pressed against the soft fabric of her bra. So his possessiveness turned her on. Or perhaps it was the idea of a shower together.

She joined him on the elevator, shrugging into his T-shirt. It hit her mid-thigh, hiding her curves but not her legs. Damn she had great legs.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t deck the guy myself?”

There might not be anything left of him to deck by the time André got through with him.

Obviously having read his thoughts again, Juliette stood beside him, smirking. Sometimes he thought she drove him crazy on purpose.

 

Juliette ran beside André, sneakers smacking the sidewalk, as she had each day for the past week. The heat was oppressive, her shirt damp with sweat. What was left of the Live Oak population after Hurricane Katrina did little to provide shade along their route.

Her hair clung to her neck like wet ribbons, but she wasn’t stopping. The more time she spent burning tread across New Orleans the less time she had to spend considering her future.

Their future.

Or lack thereof. Every time she thought of what she wanted, she remembered his words that first night against the pine tree. If he didn’t have some feelings for her, why hadn’t he pushed her away? If anything, he kept pulling her back in. But he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with his feelings. The hot and cold, up and down rollercoaster was wearing her out.

Out here there was little conversation, and little energy for emotion. There was something therapeutic running beside her mate. It reminded her of their youth, when they’d first met. And she was thankful for the way they didn’t need to speak and yet seemed to know where they were going.

Why couldn’t life be like that?

They made their way over to the Garden District. The old homes were awe-inspiring with their kaleidoscope of color and detail. She was drawn to the intricate iron work. A large white house on Third Street reminded her of the Savannah Estate where she’d spent the last few decades. But since Hurricane Love had more than likely destroyed that old house, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of heartache.

André seemed to understand somehow though she’d never spoken the words. He’d suggested they stick to streets further south for their daily run. Closer to the park. He’d also managed to be on his best behavior, only snarling at one “punk” who’d whistled at her.

Why did men have to be so confusing? Was in engrained in their DNA?

Sweat dripped down André’s back with each step. He was hotter than hell on a summer’s day. New Orleans in September. What a bright idea, going for a run. If the physical exertion hadn’t been so helpful in keeping him fairly worn out, he would have pulled the plug on the idea days ago.

But Juliette seemed happy. Her eyes were bright with joy as she pressed on. He hadn’t asked her about her future. She hadn’t volunteered any information but he found himself wondering what she’d do now that the house in Georgia was most likely gone. Would she rebuild? Return to France?

Would she stay with him?

What a stupid idea that was. They were having fun together, in bed. Sure. No denying that. The things she could do with her hips…nope. No denying it. But he’d be smart to remember all the cutting comments she’d made in that past. Could she really have had a change of heart in a little over a week?

Did he dare trust her with his heart again?

“I’ll race you back. Loser gives the winner a massage,” she called before sprinting across and intersection. The do-not-walk signal flashed on the sign across the street as he charged past her. She matched him step for step.

Impressive.

But then he’d always been impressed by Juliette Vassar. The real question was, did he have any choice but to trust her again? His heart seemed to have its own mind.

 

André’s longer stride had helped him win. No doubt about it. Still stewing over her loss, Juliette gulped down a bottle of water. Then she began plotting her revenge.

“I’m gonna hit the shower,” he called on his way across the suite. He peeled off his t-shirt, displaying an impressive collection of glistening muscles.

The sight of him in all his male perfection… He shoved the running shorts down over his hips as he kicked off his shoes…such a fluid motion. Next went the socks. And just before he turned into the bathroom he paused, naked as the day he was born, and looked over his shoulder. Their gazes locked and she could swear there was an electrical spark that arced between them. She felt the heat all the way to her core. And the shewolf inside her gave a resounding howl.

A challenge if she’d ever seen one. What was he up to? Was he trying to see how far he could push her? How far she would go? What it would take to break her? Just how badly she wanted him?

She’d showed him, several times this week in fact, what she wanted. Perhaps she’d just have to show him again.

Or perhaps it was an invitation. The one she’d been waiting for. For a woman who’d spent decades dallying, it was high time she took control. Over her current situation and her life.

On the way into the bathroom she reached for her cell phone, ignored all the voicemail messages and made a very important call.

 

Through the fogged glass wall of the shower André could make out her reflection in the mirror over the vanity. He’d wondered how long it would take her to join him. Or if she would accept his challenge. He’d started with a much needed cold shower and she’d made him wait until his balls were almost frozen, along with the rest of him.

She tossed his t-shirt onto the floor. The skimpy shorts and sports bra joined it. And then she was standing beneath the second shower head, water showering down over her body. She didn’t shiver or grimace at the icy cold, no, she just reached out and twisted the knob to hot.

Was it mental to be jealous of water droplets?

He stepped forward, but she held out a warning hand. She was going to make him wait? He looked down at the steely length of his cock and then up at her. She ignored his predicament, instead tipping her head back beneath the spray and used her hands to slowly, sensuously cup and caress each luscious curve. But she didn’t meet his gaze. No. She kept running those hands over her body. Over and over.

He growled.

Those should have been his hands.

“Would you pass the shower gel?”

Shower gel? André swallowed back a groan. She was going to add bubbles to that party?

Not feeling terribly even tempered, he used both hands to wipe his hair out of his face before tossing the small bottle to her. She snatched it out of the air.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Because I won your challenge?”

“Doing what? Taking a shower?” Her tone was so innocent and she practically batted her eyelashes at him.

“Juliette.” He stepped forward, crowding her in the large shower. “You’re messing with fire, petite.”

“You are hot, André. I’ll give you that. But you’re not fire. No… cher. I’m messing with you.”

She proceeded to drizzle shimmering shower gel over her breasts. He couldn’t stop the groan this time. It rumbled out of him, desperate and beastlike.

And then, when her hands began rubbing the suds over her skin, over her nipples, across her flat stomach into the apex below… He shut his eyes so he wouldn’t lose his control.

Her hands skimmed his chest, slickened by the soap and water.

“Mmm,”she purred near his ear. “I’m also making a point.”

He pulled her closer, his erection pressing against her belly. “What point is that?”

She began to shimmy in his arms, rubbing her torso back and forth against his in a wicked Rumba. His eyes rolled back in his head with each brush against his cock. What this woman did to him ought to be illegal. Perhaps if he died of the heart attack she would surely give him, she would be arrested for her crimes.

“That we belong together.” Two well soaped hands clasped his cock as she stepped back, letting the warm water shower over them.

With her hands massaging him he had a really hard time concentrating on what she’d said. Something about belonging together.

“We do?” The words tumbled from his lips and he immediately felt foolish. And the way her breath hitched told him he had some fast talking to do. He stilled her hands. “I have to admit, cheri, there were moments when I had my doubts.”

“You did?”

“Didn’t you?” he countered. “Obviously that day at the docks in Savannah…”

“I was angry with you.”

“And now?” He stepped closer, tipping her chin up.

“André, we need to talk.”

“I think it’s time we stopped talking, petite, and start making sure all of your two thousand parts are squeaky clean.” He dipped his other hand between her legs and spread her silky folds with his fingers.

She let out a shuddering breath as he began to finger her. Her body relaxed and her lashes fluttered down to rest against her cheeks. Then she cupped his balls.

I thought I was supposed to give you a massage.

I’ll forgo it. For now.

“André…”

“I told you. No more talking.”

In one swift movement, he pulled her hands away, lifted her and took the two steps needed to press her against the far wall of the shower. She gasped as her back hit the cool tile and he took advantage of her open lips and swept his tongue inside.

All tenderness was gone as he kissed her until they were both breathless. Her arms tightened around his shoulders and her thighs squeezed his hips. Her breasts crushed against his chest as he moved against her, loved the glide of her skin against his. The desire roaring through his bloodstream made his knees weak, but he locked his legs and nibbled his way down her neck. Her pulse thumped against his lips and he licked the spot. His beast wanted to bite her again, claim her. Remind her that she would forever be his, and his alone.

He pulled back just long enough to ask “are you ready, cheri?” Her breath caught and her pupils flared. He thrust his hips against her pussy, driving himself against those moist lower lips, coating himself in her slippery wetness. Then he lined up with her entrance, slanted his lips across hers, and pushed home.

She moaned into his mouth then sucked on his tongue. Ecstasy. She fit him like a pair of tailored slacks. She always had. How had he denied himself this all those years? Why had he let her end things between them? Kissing her, making love to her, it felt right. Stupid, foolish pride.

Her body cradled his as he started the slow movements that would bring them both pleasure. The warm water showering around them guaranteed this would be a memory he’d never forget. Her in his arms, wrapped around him in every possible way. Sharing the same air as their tongues mated. Skin against skin.

He dropped his hips a fraction, steepening the angle of penetration. She gasped and arched her back, pushing them away from the wall. Still holding her hips, he spun toward the seat across the back of the shower.

Juliette loved that they were on the same wave length. She tucked her legs around his thighs and settled into his lap. It was her turn to control their love making.

Linking her fingers behind his neck she let herself fall back, enjoying the way his cock moved inside her. Delicious pressure made her moan. He leaned forward and suckled a nipple into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the tip. She moaned a second time.

When he’d licked his fill, she began a slow up and down rhythm. The tile bench was hard beneath her shins, but she hardly noticed as she moved against his cock. So hard. So big.

His hands locked around her hips, aiding her movements. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him how much she loved him. How much she loved making love with him. But he pressed her hips down and back and his cock brushed against her g-spot, setting off an explosion of pleasure.

“Oh!”

She collapsed against him, her arms tightening around his shoulders. He murmured her name into her hair as they thrust against each other wildly. Dieu, it felt so good. He felt so good. So solid.

“Come with me,” he whispered, his arms tightening around her.

Oh André. His words set off the orgasm that had been building all afternoon. Watching his ass in those running shorts. Seeing him strip down naked. Joining him in the shower.

“Yes…” Her pleasure spiraled out of control as her feminine muscles gripped him. His cock swelled inside her as his lips hovered against her neck and then she felt the tips of his teeth.

André let out a low growl as he came, every muscle tensing beneath her. He own orgasm made her weak and breathless, but she wanted his bite more than anything.

“Do it,” she whispered. A delicious shiver raced over her skin as his teeth sank into her shoulder. The mark of her mate. Her lover.

Chapter Seven

 

André cut their run short the next day to take care of some business. He’d taken a conference call in the Penthouse office. Sebastian knew something was up but André wasn’t going to let the cat out of the bag just yet.

He felt like he was making negotiations for his life. A very precarious deal. Juliette was still everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. She seemed to be dealing with the loss of her last living brother. With the possibility that everything from her past life in Georgia was gone.

He glanced through the open doors to where she lay snuggled on the sofa, watching TV. Tender when he needed her to be, strong too. Smart. Witty. Sensual.

So sensual.

Dieu. The things she’d done to him in the shower yesterday. How the hell was he supposed to concentrate on the business at hand with memories of her touch still haunting his body.

Worse, he knew he could sweep her into his arms right now and she’d react with just as much fire and passion. She would come apart beneath him, cling to him as she called his name.

Sweat soaked his neck.

He needed to keep his head in the game. Figure out if they had a future together before he let on to his brothers about Juliette…and their renewed connection. But that meant talking to her. Which meant discussing the past and the future. Bringing out emotions he’d gladly kept locked away for decades.

Could he open up to her again? Should he just keep his pride intact and let her go? Did she want to go? If she didn’t, was he strong enough to push her away?

No matter how off the charts the sex was, it was just sex. Before he’d ever had sex with her, he’d had her as a companion. And friend.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. Moments in his past were so brutal they still took his breath away. And with all the fighting between the Vassars and the Deverauxs… He didn’t want to contemplate how his brothers would take the news. She’d broken his heart once.

They might not be in a forgiving mood.

And what of her business? He couldn’t ask her to give it up and move in with his Pack, could he? Would she make such a sacrifice?

Would she hate him if he took her away from everything she’d ever known? He’d always thought, well, not always…up until that fateful day he’d thought they could weather any storm. But something had changed that day.

Something he hadn’t been strong enough to change. Something he hadn’t known how to fight.

She moaned and he realized she was sleeping. He stepped into the living room and turned off the TV.

She looked so peaceful. Serene in a way she hadn’t seemed since he’d seen her standing in the airport, a force of nature to rival the approaching hurricane.

Drawn to her, he knelt next to the sofa and brushed the hair back from her face. She grimaced and then moaned. Not with pleasure, but agony. Her hand gripped her stomach and his heart stalled.

“Juliette. Cheri, what’s wrong?”

She frowned as she opened her eyes. She pegged him with look that held both annoyance and pain.

Until that moment, he hadn’t known he could be so scared. Everything about her posture and expression said she was not well. He was so used to never being sick. Used to pain going away quickly.

“PMS. That’s what’s wrong.”

“What can I do?”

Her grimace deepened as she reached for the small pad of paper and pen on the coffee table. Then show wrote something. Thought for a moment and wrote something else.

His eyebrows rose when she handed him the list. Tampons. Midol. Chocolate Chunk with Fudge ice cream.

Swallowing his pride, he kissed her forehead and stood. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You? I thought you’d just send someone. Don’t you have an assistant?”

“Cheri, I think I can handle a quick trip to the pharmacy. Sit tight.”

Half an hour later, as he stood in front of a kaleidoscope of colorful boxes, André wondered what the hell he’d been thinking. And he briefly considered calling the assistant Juliette had so rightly mentioned. There were different shapes. Colors. Materials. Absorbencies?

Holy hell. His gaze skipped from one box to the next as a cold sweat broke out over his shoulders.

Get a grip man. He’d fought in half a dozen wars, killed more vamps than he could count, and could run a four minute mile. He could pick up lady products. Right. No sweat.

He rolled his shoulders and glanced left. Pregnancy tests. The cold sweat came back with a flourish. Pregnancy tests. Tests to tell if a woman was pregnant. Not a woman. Juliette. A test to see if he’d made Juliette pregnant.

Holy hell. He needed to sit down. Catch his breath. Why did he feel like he’d been kicked in the ribs by a mule?

A baby. He hadn’t even been considering—of course he hadn’t been. They were so temporary. Just a fling. A quick fling. Nothing concrete. Except that the idea of a child with Juliette’s smile and his eyes…

He grabbed a test, then dropped a box of tampons in the cart too. Next stop, Midol. He plucked three boxes from the shelf and headed for the ice cream cooler.

Juliette still couldn’t believe André had gone out for tampons all by himself. But as another cramp gripped her insides like a vice-grip, she was thankful she’d added Midol to the list.

The elevator dinged a second later and he strode off, looking handsome and a bit woozy. Who knew feminine hygiene could knock a werewolf for a loop like that? But her heart swelled with happiness. He was a good man. She’d always known that, even when she told herself not to believe it.

He handed her a bag from a store she didn’t recognize.

Three boxes of Midol. She almost laughed. The ice cream was there too. And the tampons. And a pregnancy test?

Her gaze swerved to his.

“Do you know something I don’t?” The corners of her mouth turned up for the first time in hours. Then a cramp stabbed her again and she whimpered.

He was next to her in an instant, pulling her against his side, sharing his warmth.

“I don’t feel like I know anything right now,” he admitted, pressing his lips against her temple.

Juliette wanted to weep at his tenderness. She’d been missing this all these years. And it was her fault!

She groaned and sank against him. Maybe she was dreaming. The whole week. What if it was just one long, cramp induced dream? What if she were back in France? What if she woke up tomorrow, alone?

“Yer not gonna be alone, cheri.” He lifted her then. “You should get some rest. I’ll bring yer pills.”

He carried her into the office and laid her down on the couch. As she sank into the pillows he draped a throw around her, tucking her in as he would a child. A few short moments later he was back, his gaze skimming the directions on the pill box. He handed her a bottle of water and dropped two pills into her outstretched hand.

She hoped the pills kicked in soon. Having her insides in a constant state of meat-grinder pain, yeah, she was over it.

André settled into the chair behind the enormous wooden desk and glanced her way before getting back to work. Somehow, being in the same room with him made her feel better. Or maybe it was the pills. Either way, she enjoyed being close to him.

When Juliette woke, she heard André’s deep voice. He was hunched over in the chair, elbows braced against his knees as he talked on the phone. His voice was tense.

A negotiation gone bad?

“Sebastian—that’s not fair mon frère.”

Ahh. His brother.

Juliette knew that André had been keeping touch with his family since they’d arrived in New Orleans. They were probably wondering why he didn’t come home. Had he told them about her yet?

Judging by the frown marring his face, she guessed not.

Why had he rented a hotel room instead of taking her back to his house? To his Pack? Was he worried about the Vassar/Deveraux history? She wasn’t.

She sat up, drawing his attention. Her feelings for him were stronger than any old family feud.

André hung up after giving a terse au revoir. “How are you feeling?” He came around and propped a hip against the desk, looking every bit the GQ tycoon.

“Better.” She stepped toe-to-toe with him.

“So the medicine helped? Ready for your ice cream?”

She smiled, running her hands up his chest to settle on his shoulder. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“What are you talkin' about, cheri?”

“Why haven't we met your Pack? I know they call you every day.”

“Can you blame me for wanting you all to myself?”

He gave her what some would call a lecherous grin, but she thought of it as wolf-like. Predatory, with a hint of his canines.

“No,” she managed to say.

He kissed her shoulder and began massaging her lower back. “I read somewhere today that orgasms are good for soothing cramps,” he said, his voice soft and steady as he made her melt beneath his fingertips.

She gave a sharp, quick laugh that jarred her aching insides. “You did, did you? Reading up on the female of the species?”

“Maybe.” He sounded like a little boy, caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Her smile grew. “I didn’t think you needed anatomy lessons,” she whispered against the stubble covered skin of his cheek.

With a sexy growl, he spun her, reversing their positions. Her backside hit the desk and her breath hissed between her lips. He bent her over the desk, his hands brushing stacks of paper out of the way. She giggled, reminded of the clichéd office tryst.

She’d never done it on a desk before.

André kissed his way south, pausing between her breasts, his hands skimming from her hips to her waist. She soaked in the feel of him, everywhere he touched her, every caress. Eyes closed, she willed him to go on forever.

“I feel like I’m unwrappin’ a present,” he murmured, untying the knot of her wrap dress. She hitched a thigh over his hip, opening herself to him.

He spread the sides of the dress, his hot breath fanning over her skin. She knew the second he realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear because he sucked in a sharp breath and went completely still. When she opened her eyes, he was standing back, surveying her as if she was a plot of land he intended to conquer. And claim.

Then he was touching her again. Hands against her thighs, up over her hipbones leaving chill bumps of desire in his wake. Across her ribcage until he covered her breasts. His lips joined the slow journey.

Her cramps were long gone and a new ache had taken residence between her legs. Did every woman experience such bliss at the hands of her lover? She didn’t know, but hoped for their sakes that they did.

He sucked a nipple into the wet heat of his mouth and used his tongue to tease it to attention. Her back arched, pressing her flesh into his waiting mouth. She hooked her hands over the edge of the desk above her head and held on tight.

This wasn’t the frenzied mating in the. Nor was it the romp in the shower like yesterday.

No. This was a slow seduction.

Deliberate. And intoxicating.

Part of her wished he’d forgo the foreplay and take her. But another part of her needed this slow, sweet torture. It was as if he was ignoring her neediest parts in order to tempt and torture her.

His lips moved to her other breast, kissing the curve. He licked a path to her nipple and grazed it with his teeth. She lifted her head to look down at him. Fresh desire flooded her as his dark gaze met hers. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. Naughty man. Naughty, wonderful man.

“I also read that your nipples would be extra sensitive.”

“That’s true.” She adored the way he rubbed his palm over the sensitive tip, round and around, barely touching but delighting every nerve ending with the delicious friction. “Did you read the Werewolf Seduction manual while I was sleeping?”

He grinned. Then he worked his way south. Lips nipping her skin; his tongue darting out to leave a moist trail on his way down her torso. She held her breath as his lips sought and found her most intimate folds. He tasted her with the tip of his tongue, leaving her brutally aware of each and every touch.

She swallowed back a groan as he put his hands on her thighs and spread her legs. His breath was warm against her skin.

“Oh, André.” The words tumbled from her lips.

“I want to see if you taste as good as I remember, petite. Are you wet for me?”

“Oui,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

She held her breath, waiting for that first touch of his tongue. Instead, a single finger traced her slit, up over her clit and back down. Over and over he touched her, made her want more, and when she was ready to scream her impatience, his hot mouth closed over her.

Her hips lifted off the desk as he speared her pussy with his tongue. In and out. Tasting and teasing her.

His hands held her thighs apart so he could feast on her. Arching her back, she clutched at the desk as tendrils of pleasure coursed through her.

“Oh yes,” she whispered, her voice full of need. Release, sweet release was near.

He sucked her clit into his mouth and her eyes rolled back in her head.

“So...close...” Her fingernails dug deeper into the wood and her head thrashed back and forth. He sucked harder.

“Please, André...”

A shrill ring pierced the lust-filled fog. She groaned. André growled. The sound was not human. He slid up the length of her body, the head of his cock teasing her entrance.

The phone continued to ring as he sank into her. His weight pressed her into the desktop and she locked her ankles behind his back.

“Are you going to get that?”

“They've invited us to dinner,” he said.

They? Who was he talking—oh. His pack.

When the phone stopped ringing, he pulled back, his cock slipping all the way out of her. She'd never felt so empty.

She didn't like it.

She made a little sound of protest, and his hips jerked forward, driving home, filling her up. Her protests turned to coos of pleasure.

“Do you want to go?” he asked, nipping her shoulder.

“Of course!”

“Then we’ll go,” he said as if it was no big deal. But for her, meeting his Pack, it was a big deal. The meeting would determine her future.

She pried her fingers loose from the desk and slowly wrapped her arms around him, letting her fingers touch and explore him.

Back and forth he moved, each thrust harder than the last.  Her breasts bobbed up and down, brushing his chest. He made sounds low in his throat, deep masculine sounds of appreciation and ecstasy.

As she began to spiral up the mountain of pleasure, he was right there with her. The aches from her cramps made the pressure inside her that much sweeter. He was right. Sex really did sooth cramps.

Their moans filled the room as they moved against each other, fighting for that ultimate release.

Her heart beat so hard she could feel the blood rushing through the arteries in her throat. He watched her. She stared right back.

“Remember what I said about screaming my name?” he asked against her neck.

“Hmm uh.”

“Get ready to do it again.” Then he kissed her. Plundered her mouth. His tongue speared between her lips, danced an erotic tango with her own. Sensations swept over her, pushing her up and over the edge. He tore his lips from hers, groaning as every muscle in his body tightened. His cock pulsed deep inside her, and she hurtled into oblivion. Praying that the walls were soundproof, she screamed his name.

 

* * * * *

 

The massive brick home Sebastian had rented shortly after the fire had plenty of room, and several ways for a werewolf to blow off steam. André joined Jules and Laurent on the basketball court while they waited for the girls to finish dinner. Amanda and Angel had kicked him out of the kitchen, and he had the sneaking suspicion that they wanted to get to know his mate. Which was why he'd gotten them a hotel room away from the prying eyes and ears of his pack.

His mate.

Even now he had a hard time believing that she was back in his life. After two hundred miserable years, she finally knew the truth. This past week, enjoying her incredible body, seemed like a dream. He kept expecting to wake up. He wanted more. Much more. He missed their conversations, their debates. He missed seeing her mind in action. And lately, he’d had everything. Her.

But for how long?

He still wasn't prepared to believe...to hope they had a chance. The past had taught him how finicky his mate could be. She'd lost her family, was alone in the world. What if she got tired of gracing his bed?

Jules rocketed the ball at André's chest. He caught it easily and raised an eyebrow at his younger brother. Head back in the game, he dribbled and then made his shot.

“So what's the deal with you and Juliette?” Jules asked.

André had known this question was coming, was surprised it hadn't been asked sooner. He'd given his brother's the details of his trip, well, most of them, once he'd gotten back to town. Jules and Sebastian were obviously curious about his mate and understandably so.

“There's no deal,” he lied. “She's here. I'm here.”

Jules rolled his eyes, stole the ball and dunked it. “Don't give me that shit.”

“What's your problem, mon frere?” André asked, his irritation rising.

“You! You have a mate. A true mate who will live as long as you will, and you're sitting on your hands, waiting for her to do God knows what, when you should be claiming her as yours and thanking your lucky stars.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Do you know how lucky you are, brother? Sebastian and I will lose our soul mates before the end of the century. We will have to watch them die. And we will live on. You can have forever and you don't even want it.”

“What makes you think I don't want it?” he shot back.

“You sure have a funny way of showing it.” Jules dropped the ball and stalked off the court.

Laurent picked up the basketball and spun it on the end of his finger.

“Do you agree with him?” André asked, hands on his hips.

“I believe you're still in love with her.”

“I can't be. Not until I know she'll stay with me.”

“She killed her brother for you, cousin. That should say plenty.” Laurent was right of course. But it didn't erase his need to hear her say the words. It didn’t ease his worry over her company and her position within it. Her work was in France. Would she move the company for him?

 

After dinner that night, Sebastian called him into the study.

“Have a seat,” his brother said.

André remained standing. “Why do I get the feeling this isn't a friendly chat?”

“Because it's not. You have a decision to make, mon frere.” André raised an eyebrow in question. “Her or us. She's a Vassar, she can never be a part of our pack.”

André collapsed into the chair, not believing his eyes. He searched his brother's face, saw the man who'd saved his life half a dozen times, who'd shared meals, triumphs, pain. He was serious. His gaze didn't waver.

“You never had anything against the Vassars. None of us did.”

“I do now that I know what they're capable of.”

How had he found out? Oh. Juliette. Damn, women were so chatty. “That's my business. It was a long time ago.”

“Have you forgotten how she broke your heart? Twice! Do you remember how miserable you were after that? For years, André. It took you years to heal.” He cocked his head to the left. “I'm not sure you've ever healed. I can’t watch that happen to you again.”

“I have to go.” Andre was out of the chair and down the hall before Sebastian could call him back.

“Let's go,” he said to Juliette, pulling her up from the couch. “Thanks for dinner, ladies,” he called over his shoulder.

“What's wrong?” Juliette asked as he drug her along behind him.

“Nothing,” he said. Everything.

 

* * * * *

 

Twenty four hours later, Juliette was convinced that it was not nothing. She'd begged and pleaded with him to tell her what was wrong, but he'd remained silent as they’d driven back into New Orleans. He’d ridden the elevator up to their room, his mouth set in a pensive line. She’d fallen silent at that point.

When he set his mind on something is was nearly impossible to change it. He hadn’t changed that much in the last two centuries. He’d spent all of five minutes in the office before announcing that he was going out to think. Think about what?

He hadn’t returned.

And Juliette hadn’t been able to get a minute of sleep.

Between worrying about him, she worried how her life would be without him. Would she ever be able to sleep without him beside her?

Frustrated, tired of calling room service and being alone with her thoughts, she pulled the complimentary notepad from the bedside table. If he wouldn't talk to her, perhaps his brothers would. She left a note on the bar and headed downstairs. An hour later the cab let her out in front of the house the Deverauxs were renting until their home was rebuilt. The massive brick structure overlooked Lake Pontchartrain and she felt the blessed breeze as she marched up to the front door.

Angelica let her in with a bright smile.

“Is Sebastian here?” Juliette asked.

“He and Jules are at the lawyers' office going over some paperwork.”

Juliette nibbled her bottom lip.

“What's wrong?” Angelica asked, leading her to the back porch and easing her into a patio chair.

“André’s missing. He left last night right after we got back to the hotel and I haven’t been able to reach him since then.” She rubbed her hand back and forth across her lips, racking her brain for an explanation. “I thought maybe his brothers knew what was going on.”

“We'll ask them as soon as they get back.”

Juliette nodded.

“Tea?”

“Yes, please.” Angelica stepped over to the tea cart and poured two glasses.

“Lemon?”

Juliette shook her head. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” Angelica frowned.

“I'm a Vassar. Vassars and Deverauxs don't get along.”

Angelica smiled, her strawberry blonde hair catching the afternoon sunlight. “That's all in the past. What matters now is if you love André or not. He's a good man, and he deserves to be happy. If you can make him happy, then you've got my vote.”

Juliette took the drink the other woman offered and felt peace wash over her. Inside, a telephone rang and Angelica excused herself and went to answer it. Juliette took a sip of her tea and looked out at the manicured yard and the blue lake beyond. From the corner of her eye she saw someone doing laps in the pool. Looking closer she recognized Burke, André's cousin.

Maybe he knew what was going on. Or where André had disappeared to.

She set her glass down and headed across the yard. The powerful man reached the end of the pool, dove under the water, pushed off the side and started another lap. Juliette sat down and let her legs dangle over the edge.

At the end of his lap, he stopped and waved, pushing the goggles up his forehead.

“What brings you here?” he asked, swimming over to her.

“Do you know what's going on with André? He's been gone since last night. I don’t know where he is.”

“Sorry, cheri. My cousin is a complicated man.”

“You're not kidding.”

“You love him, right?”

“Completely.”

“Have you told him that?”

She hadn't said it out loud, afraid she might spook him. Or worse. What if he'd meant what he said? What if he really didn't love her anymore?

“He knows it.”  She watched a boat glide by on the lake.

“How do you figure that?” Burke pushed up out of the water and sat next to her. His huge body glistened with water droplets. He looked like two hundred fifty pounds of solid muscle.

“He just does. I've always loved him. I don't think I've ever stopped loving him. He just won't come to his senses.”

“You could always try to make him jealous,” Burke suggested, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

A harsh laugh escaped her throat. “And what would that accomplish?”

“There's nothing like the threat of losing your woman to snap you out of being a dumb ass.”

Burke's deep quiet voice was reassuring.

“And just how do you suggest I do that?”

“I could kiss you,” he teased.

“You're likely to end up dead,” she warned him. She'd seen André in action, knew him to be one lethal wolf. God help whoever stood in his way.

“Somehow I doubt that.” He leaned in close, bracing an arm behind her. “Don't look now, but here comes your mate. And he does not look pleased.”

“Get the hell away from her, Burke.” André's voice cut through the quiet afternoon and Juliette scrambled to her feet. Burke slid back into the pool and swam away.

“André—”

“Why did you come here? Don't you know you're not welcome?” André asked and Juliette felt like he'd stabbed a knife through her heart.

“What—what do you mean?”

Angelica came out of the house with Amanda hot on her heels. Juliette glanced from the two women to André and back. His lips were set in a thin line and tension flowed off of him. “Angelica said—”

“It doesn't matter what she said. She's not the Alpha of this pack. She's not even the Luna.” Juliette swallowed hard, a sinking feeling in her heart. “Sebastian gave me a choice, Juliette. My Pack or you.”

“So that's what you were thinking about...”

“Yes.”

She'd thought all her tears were gone, cried out, but she was wrong. “Was it really that hard to decide?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Give me some credit, Juliette, at least I took longer than thirty seconds to think it over.”

“That's not fair.”

“Isn't it? Why are you cuddled up with my cousin?” André shot Burke a thunderous look.

“What's going on here?” Juliette glanced past André to see Sebastian and Jules heading their way.

“I've made my decision,” André called over his shoulder. Juliette felt like she was in a movie, with music reaching a crescendo just as a life or death decision was about to be made. She was sick to her stomach. But she wasn't going to let him go without a fight. She'd made that mistake the last time.

She finally knew what to say, how to tell him of the horrible secret that had kept them apart for so long. And she knew that now was the time to tell him. To make him understand, once and for all.

“You know why it took me thirty seconds, André? Because your father told me that if we stayed together he would kill us both. My only option was to push you away, whether I believed you killed my brother or not.” She took his hand and held it over her heart. “Feel that and tell me I don't want you, that my heart doesn't beat for you. I don't think I've ever stopped loving you. But it was easier to tell myself over and over that you’d killed Leon, to trick myself in believing your were an awful person so I didn’t miss you so damn much. You have to know that.” Her voice was pleading, husky, even to her own ears. She didn't care that they had an audience. Her pride wasn't important anymore.

He stood there for endless seconds, his mind obviously racing. “If you've never stopped loving me then why did you send me away that day in Savannah?”

The words were unspoken between them…but she knew what day he spoke of. He meant the day he’d met her on the dock right after her family had arrived in America. She’d been so cruel to him. The memory made her nauseous. “I made a mistake, André. I was angry. Angry that you'd never come for me. My pride was bruised. I thought with time the hate between us, between our families would die down. After you left France I thought we had a chance. I sent you letters. I thought you'd sneak away, come back for me. We could get away from your father and he could never hurt us.

“But you never came for me. I shouldn't have expected it, after what I—“

He cut her off. “I got my finances in order today. We won’t have a pack, but we’ll be together. And we can buy a house wherever you want. Savannah. France. Here. It’s your call, mon amour.”

So that’s what he’d been up to. His words, the tenderness and love in his eyes made her melt against him.

“Will you two kiss and make up already? We've gotta get dinner started,” Sebastian said.

André glared at his brother then he turned and pegged her with a look that made her breath catch. “I choose Juliette.”

Sweeter words were never spoken. Juliette's knees gave out completely and André pulled her against him.

“Forgive me, my love. I was still brooding. I never opened your letters. I didn’t know about my father. Please forgive me.” He rained kisses across her face. To hear him, her Alpha mate, apologizing, begging her forgiveness, it hurt to see, to hear. “For the things I said, for the pain I've caused you.”

“Shut up and kiss me, wolf.” He did just that. It was a long, sweet, thorough kiss, filled with hope, love, and promises of a future together.

Laurent's voice cut through the moment. “Man, I'm glad we got that sorted out.”

They separated just long enough to look over at the crowd that had gathered. Angelica snapped a photo. Amanda had tears in her eyes. Jules and Sebastian were smiling. Burke grinned at them from the edge of the pool.

“Why do you look like you've eatin’ a canary?” André asked his cousin. Burke pushed out of the pool and swiped a towel off the nearby lounge.

“Let's just say we were all in on it.”

“In on what?”

“Getting the two of you to come to your senses of course,” Sebastian said, his dark eyes full of mischief. “I can't believe you fell for that ultimatum, little brother.”

“What ultimatum?” Amanda asked, pegging her husband with a glance that said he'd better spill all.

“I told André he had to pick between the Pack and Juliette.”

“You did what?” Angelica cried.

Juliette was starting to put the puzzle pieces together. Pack mentality. They hunted together. They match-made together. Why wasn't she surprised?

“You really are a pack of wolves,” she teased and tightened her arms around André's waist.

“I had to make him act on his love for Juliette. I've always known his love for the Pack is strong, but his love for Juliette was stronger. Do you remember what you said to me that morning Amanda came back into our lives?” Sebastian asked André.

André nodded.

“What did you say?” Juliette and Amanda asked at the same time.

“I told him if he loved her, he should go after her. Let nothing stand in their way,” her mate said.

Oh, André.

“What was your plan?” Amanda asked Jules, her hands on her hips.

André's younger brother had the dignity to look sheepish for a moment. “I played the mate card.”

“And you?” Juliette asked Laurent.

“I just asked if he loved you.”

“And you,” she said to Burke. “You suggested I make him jealous.”

“I think my plan worked the best,” the big wolf said proudly.

“You Deverauxs are too much,” she said, her heart full.

“I hope you're not really planning on leaving the Pack,” Sebastian said, his tone serious.

“We'll have to talk it over,” André said, giving her a squeeze.

“I love happy endings,” Angelica said. Amanda and Violet, who stood in the shade of the porch, agreed.

“Now we just need to find your true love,” André told Burke. The big man backed away.

“Not gonna happen, cuz. Not gonna happen.” He tossed the towel over a broad shoulder and headed inside.

“Let's get dinner started. I'm starving,” Sebastian said, taking Amanda's hand. The other couples followed.

“We’ll catch up with you in a while,” André called. Then he looked down at her as he had so many years ago. Love and hope eased the lines that so much pain had caused. “Any other secrets to share, petite?”

“None. It won’t be a secret much longer that I asked my lawyer to start making inquiries about selling Vassar Enterprises.”

“When did you do that?” He turned toward the lake and laced his fingers with hers.

“A few days ago. Right before I got into the shower with you.”

He smiled down at her and her insides went soft and supple. He really didn’t have the best smile in the world. She wanted to see it every day. Wanted to hear his laughter.

“We need to enjoy that shower again, before we check out.”

She laughed. “Anytime, my handsome mate.”

His gaze zeroed on her lips. “Perhaps we should try putting that pregnancy test to good use.”

His voice was teasing, yet quiet and unsure. So unlike the calm, collected man she’d always known. But she knew what he was asking and her heart squeezed with love for him.

“You’re going to make a terrific father, Andre Deveraux.” She cupped his jaw in her hand.

“I feel like we’ve wasted so much time. We have so much to make up for. I hate what all those secrets and lies cost us.”

“I should have told you the truth back then but I thought I was—“

“Protecting me,” he finished for her.

“Yes.” Her family had been very close. And at the time she couldn’t fathom a father threatening his children the way that Andre’s father had threatened him. She hadn’t wanted Andre to know. But she realized now, his family was different.

No, not his family. His parents were different. They didn’t treat their children the way her parents had treated her.

It hurt to think of the pain they must have caused Andre when he was younger, before he’d escaped that life.

“We both made mistakes. I wish like hell I could change them,” he said.

“But we learned from them, right?” He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. She soaked in the feel of his power and strength. She’d never get tired being with this man.

“Oui. We learned from them.” He cupped her cheek and met her gaze. “You asked me once how I've changed. How I'm different…I learned from my mistakes, Juliette. I should have fought harder to keep you. I shouldn’t have lied about killing your brother because I thought it was what you needed to hear.

“I'm different because I can promise you that this time, I'd be the one dumping your brothers into the middle of the ocean. Never again will I be broken and left for dead. Never again will I have my heart ripped from my chest.”

He leaned his forehead against hers.

“And this time, I will never let you go.”

 

The End

 

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Author Bio

 

An action movie buff with a penchant for all things supernatural and sexy, Selena Blake combines her love for adventure, travel and romance into steamy paranormal romance. Selena’s books have been called “a steamy escape” and  have appeared on bestseller lists,  been nominated for awards, and won contests.  When she’s not writing you can find her by the pool soaking up some sun, day dreaming about new characters, and watching the cabana boy (aka her muse), Derek. Fan mail keeps her going when the diet soda wears off so write to her at selenablake@gmail.com.

 

Visit her online at http://www.selena-blake.com or if you’re on Facebook, become a fan at http://www.facebook.com/authorSelenaBlake

 

 

Read an excerpt from Surprising Darcy

A Contemporary Erotica Novella

 

Darcy Evans pulled her front door open and let her eyes rake over the handsome blond haired man leaning against the door frame. Her heart seemed to bounce around in her rib cage and her loneliness dissolved instantly.  His brilliant blue eyes sparkled down at her as a slow smile showed off that cute dimple on his left cheek. Perfect white teeth peeked out from behind the sensuous lips that played a starring role in many of her fantasies.

She smiled back, soaking in his presence. It was pathetic how much she'd missed him this past week. She should have gone out for drinks with her friends or something. Anything that would signify that she actually had a life outside of the kitchen and this incredible, seductive man.

He pulled a bouquet of pink flowers from behind his back.

“Happy Birthday.”

He remembered! Oh yes, he really was perfect. Her own father couldn't be bothered to remember the day his daughter was born, but Aiden...Aiden came from a family that celebrated important events.

“Thank you!”  She accepted the bouquet and cuddled the flowers to her chest. Lilies. She inhaled deeply, letting the intoxicatingly sweet scent wash over her.  He stepped across the threshold, looking every bit the successful surgeon in his coal gray suit, and she raised her cheek for his kiss. 

Aiden Sinclair had been her friend since they'd shared a wall two apartments ago.  They'd been lovers for the last three blissful months and for the past week he'd been in Houston for a medical conference. Even though he'd called her throughout the week, there was nothing quite like being in his arms, feeling his touch, his kiss.

He strode into her living room and she followed, admiring his easy movements. Some men would look restricted, uptight in a suit...but not him. His long legs gave him a sexy swagger. Sometimes she envisioned him as a heart stealing, treasure plundering pirate...maybe he was in a past life.

As usual, he looked completely at home and that familiar fantasy took over...the one where he came home to her every night. She could see him standing in the foyer, flipping through mail, or shaving, first thing in the morning. It was a dangerous fantasy, one that would be so easy to wish for. But she had no business wishing for such things, they'd only been together for three months... and four days, but who was counting.

She grimaced.

She was counting.

Aiden stopped next to the black and white cat on the arm of the sofa. Green-gold eyes squinted open and stared up at him. He gave Cookie a long stroke and then scratched under her chin. Cookie looked up at Darcy as if to say “Haha...I'm getting all the love.”  It was pathetic to be jealous of a feline. Really, it was...but she knew what it felt like to be petted and caressed by those masterful hands.

He pulled a small fuzzy mouse from his pocket and placed it between the cat's front paws. “A little something to keep you occupied,” he said and straightened.

Yep, definitely perfect. She bit her tongue to keep from shouting “marry me now!”

He turned and gave her one of his trademark smiles. For a moment she wondered if she’d spoken out loud, but then he whispered “I have a surprise for you too,”and her insides went to mush.

“I like surprises,” she purred, letting her fingers walk up his chest.  At six feet tall, Aiden was God's gift to womankind.  Golden blond hair, bright turquoise eyes, and a come- hither-smile that had women crawling over each other to get to him.  Whether he was in a suit, scrubs, or nothing but skin, he was breathtaking.  Trapping her hand under his, he made a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan. It reverberated through her blood, all the way to her toes. How could this man turn her on so quickly? So often?

Wrapping his hands around her rib cage, his thumbs grazed the side of her breasts and she fought for self control so she wouldn’t push herself into his hands.  She needed to play hard to get, at least occasionally.

The truth was she was putty in his hands. And he knew it.

 

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Other Books by Selena Blake

 

Series: Stormy Weather

The Cajun’s Captive

Bitten in the Bayou

Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf (previously titled Bound & Determined)

Mated to a Cajun Werewolf

 

Surprising Darcy

Just a Little Taste

 

Series: Deep Space Encounters

Reclaiming Isis

Rescuing Natacha

Azula’s Rebellion