Bayou Heat Collection One Read online

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  She needed a spanking.

  Maybe more than one.

  Xavier narrowed his eyes on the Hunter female who was gyrating on the makeshift dance floor, sandwiched between two greasy human males, while another ordered drinks a few feet down the bar. Did he blame them for going after her? Leering at her? Drooling like dogs? No, he did not. With her perfect body clad in way-too-tight clothes, hungry green eyes, and thick ebony hair flowing down her back, she looked like a goddamn sex kitten tonight, and he was going to pummel the bastard who’d let her out of her cage.

  Where the fuck was Aristide?

  Her brother—and Xavier’s closest friend—never let his sister out of his sight, except when she worked as a Hunter. And even then, Xavier could count on the rest of the Pantera to watch her. They all knew how special she was. Important. The kind of female you put up on a pedestal and stared at.

  Not fucking leered at.

  His eyes narrowed into pinprick slits as he watched her rock the dance floor. How the hell had she learned to move like that? Her hips. Her ass. Her hands threading in her hair and running down her body.

  Another jolt moved through him, but he forced it away. He always forced away those kinds of flashes when it came to her. Amalie was not just the last Pantera born, which made her untouchable in and of itself, but she was also his best friend’s little sister. And the code of honor between males killed even the most desperate of attractions.

  He stood, slipped the flash drive the woman beside him had brought with her into his jeans pocket. “You didn’t have to disable the camera to get these shots, did you?”

  The blond PI he’d hired to help in his search for Ashe and Isi’s father, Chayton, shook her head. “No. But it was a bitch and a half to get up there, and stay up there while I located the serial number. Thank god some asshole got a tattoo last night. Gave me a solid hour.”

  The human female had found a hidden camera in Isi’s voodoo shop, and had spent the past three days trying to get a few minutes alone with it. “Did you run the number?”

  “It’s some exclusive, expensive shit. There’s a list of the high-end stores that sell cameras like that on your drive, but I couldn’t get sales records. You’re going to need a top notch hacker.”

  Good thing he was one, Xavier thought, his gaze sliding over to the dance floor again. A growl sounded in his throat. Amalie was grinding her hips against some human male like she wanted sex.

  “My payment?” the PI said.

  “Already in your account.”

  She laughed softly, almost seductively. “Gotta love a man who anticipates a woman’s needs. Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Not tonight,” he said, his eyes still pinned to the Hunter female and the human drooling machines bracketing her. “But I’ll be in touch.”

  He pushed away from the bar and headed through the small crowd to the dance floor. He should be gone by now, heading back to Geek headquarters, checking out the drive the PI had just handed him. After all, it was vital the Pantera find Chayton before their enemies did.

  A good fifteen patrons were working it to the killer baseline of some rapper, and a few females tried to catch Xavier’s eye and draw him into their circle. But he only had eyes for one female, and she was going back to the Wildlands immediately. To her home, and to her brother’s care.

  Eyes closed, full pink lips parted, long hair mussed, the female before him looked like she’d just come from her bed. Xavier drew close and wrapped his large hand around her slim wrist. Instantly, her eyes opened. At first, she seemed confused as she stared up at him. Then, as she registered not only his presence but his hold on her, she smiled.

  “Hi, Xavier,” she said. “Want to join the party?”

  Shit. How many drinks had she had? Her speech wasn’t slurred, but it was pretty damn close. “You’re making a scene, Amalie.”

  “My name is Mal,” she corrected him, her luscious jade-green eyes flashing momentary fire. “And I’m not making a scene, I’m having fun.”

  Three or four drinks of fun. He didn’t say a word, just lowered his hand to close around hers and led her off the dance floor. Xavier knew she could fight him if she wanted to. The female was tough as hell. Smart, too. But she didn’t. In fact, she squeezed his hand and moved with him through the crowd and toward the door. Maybe it was the alcohol in her blood? Could do funny things to the Pantera system.

  Night was just settling in, but the warm bayou air of the day still remained, rushing over Xavier’s skin as he stepped outside. As he turned Amalie to face him, his hands on her shoulders, he tried not to stare at how that same breeze affected her hair, sending it swirling about her face.

  Her fucking perfect face.

  Releasing her and sliding his gaze away, Xavier growled low in his throat. Thoughts like these were becoming too commonplace lately. He needed to find a way to get rid of them. Permanently. Or he’d have to get rid of himself being around this female, permanently.

  Amalie cocked her head. “Are you growling at me, Xavier?” Her tone was all flirtation, warmth, intimacy. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “How much have you had to drink?” he said tightly.

  “Not nearly enough.”

  “Your Pantera scent is being strangled by tequila.”

  She shrugged. “Shit happens.”

  “Yes, it does,” he said, moving closer to her. “Like you being here of all places. Does Aristide know you’re here?”

  Her eyes clouded over, and for a moment she just stared at him. Then she laughed and shook her head. “No, my jailer of a brother doesn’t know I’m here. He’s stuck in quarantine with that human woman, Ashe’s sister.”

  Isi? The one whose blood had both damaged the Wildlands and had caused it to bring forth life?

  And Aristide didn’t tell me?

  What the hell? Xavier mused darkly. Someone needed to be watching out for Amalie.

  The door to The Cougar’s Den burst open and one of Amalie’s dance partners nearly stumbled out. When the greasy male spotted her, he grinned like a fucking wolf with prey in sight.

  “You coming back in, darlin’?” he drawled.

  “No,” Xavier answered.

  Amalie turned to give him a dirty look, then glanced back up at the human male. “In a minute, Beau.”

  Xavier growled at her. “I’m taking you home, Amalie.”

  Her gaze slid his way once again, and no longer was there even a hint of flirtation glittering there. “No, you’re not. I’m here to have some fun. Just because you don’t know the meaning of that word.”

  “I’ll show you some fun,” Beau said, loping down the steps toward them.

  “I suggest you go back inside, Male,” Xavier said darkly, though his gaze remained pinned to Mal. “We’re leaving, Amalie. Say goodbye to your little friend here. Perhaps you can schedule a playdate for another day.”

  “Do you hear yourself?” she growled back at him.

  “I do.”

  She stuck a finger in his face. “I’m not the young cub you and Aristide get to tell what to do anymore. I’m a grown female.”

  Xavier sighed, his nostrils flaring with irritation. Yes, unfortunately, she was. A female with curves designed to make a male anxious to breed. A face angels would be envious of. A husky voice that belonged near a hungry male’s ear.

  All attributes that shouldn’t be allowed near this oily, drunken human.

  “Say goodbye, Amalie,” he said evenly.

  “She doesn’t want to say goodbye,” Beau said with a grunt. “Do you, Amalie?”

  “My name’s Mal,” she corrected.

  Beau chuckled, his eyes pinned to her chest. “Hey, I’ll call you whatever you want, Sexy.”

  “Oh, I like that.” Amalie’s gaze flickered Xavier’s way, and she said something under her breath that sounded an awful lot like, “Why can’t you ever call me that?”

  Xavier pretended not to hear her. Just as he pretended to not be affected by
the way she chewed her lower lip. He shook his head slowly. “You know I can’t let this happen, Amalie.”

  Her hands went to her hips. “The funny part is that you actually believe that. Or is the funny part that you’re still doing Aristide’s job? I’m not sure. Wait. Maybe they’re both funny.”

  The human moved closer to her, his eyes now trained on her ass. “I know some funny stories, Mal. I’ll buy you a drink and share a few.”

  Xavier felt his insides flood with aggression. This male was about two seconds away from unconsciousness. Which would be a bad idea, as they were on human land. The last thing Pantera wanted to do was draw attention to themselves. But this idiot was really begging for it.

  “I’m going to say this once more, mon ami.” Xavier’s eyes narrowed on the human male. He wasn’t particularly tall, but what he lacked in height, he made up for with muscle. Not Pantera kind of muscle, but impressive for a human. Something to consider if things went bruised and bloody. “Go inside and find yourself another female. This one is not available.”

  “I’ll decide if I’m available or not,” Amalie said tightly. “You got some nerve, Xavier. Go home.”

  The human grinned, then slid his arm around Amalie’s waist, yanked her close and licked the curve of her ear. “You tell him, Sexy.”

  The haze that had only a second ago glimmered in Amalie’s smoky green eyes receded, and a flare of golden heat took its place. It was the sign her cat hovered at the surface of her skin. Her control was lost, courtesy of too much tequila. In under five seconds, she removed the male’s arm from her waist, took his hand in hers and slammed it back into his face. Making a sound like air escaping a balloon, Beau slithered to the ground and remained.

  Xavier’s eyes flipped up to meet hers. “Was that necessary?”

  She stumbled backwards a step. “He licked me.”

  “Grow up, Amalie.”

  “You won’t let me.” Her eyes locked to him. “You and Aristide.”

  Xavier’s gut clenched. She had no idea how he saw her, how his skin ached every time she touched him – how he stood taller, prouder, every time her eyes were on him. And hell, she never would, if he could manage it.

  “Then perhaps we should concentrate on sobering up.” He reached for her hand. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  She didn’t try to pull away. “Careful, Puma. Or I’ll drop you like I dropped Tongue-Boy there.”

  Xavier refused to reply to such absurdity. As he moved past her, he scooped her up in his arms and continued down the path toward the parking lot.

  “Neanderthal,” she spat out.

  “Pantera,” he corrected, trying not to think about how good she felt in his arms. How right. How natural.

  “You don’t have to carry me,” she grumbled. “I know how to use my legs.”

  His jaw went tight at her words. So did everything below his waist. Fucking female. Fucking male brain for taking those innocent words and twisting them into a goddamn fantasy. “It’ll take us all night to walk home,” he said. “And something tells me you can’t run in those come-fuck-me-boots.”

  She glanced up at him. “Is that what they’re called?”

  He didn’t answer, didn’t look at her either. She’d been too goddamn beautiful in the harsh fluorescent lights of the club. Under the glow of twilight, he was pretty sure she’d send certain parts of his anatomy skyward.

  He didn’t need that. Not tonight. Not ever.

  Clearing the parking lot, he took off toward the dark protection of the woods. He was fast in his human state, but he ached to shift to his puma and really taste the wind.

  “So, I guess you’re my way home tonight,” she said with a soft yawn.

  His arms tightened around her. “Who brought you? How did you get to The Den?”

  “I caught a ride.”

  “If you tell me with a stranger—” he began through gritted teeth.

  He felt her shrug. “He was only a stranger for the first five minutes.”

  A low growl escaped his throat. Shit, he needed to break out the fur and the canines. “I’m going to take you home and tie you up until Aristide gets out of quarantine.”

  She snorted, then yawned again. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “Would you?”

  He made the mistake of looking down at her. Trying to put the sweet weight of her body out of his mind as he moved was problem enough. Now he saw full lips, drowsy eyes, a strip of tanned stomach where her tank was riding up.

  Fuck. Me.

  “What about your date?” she said. “Isn’t she waiting back at The Den for you?”

  “That was business.”

  She snorted softly. “She didn’t look like business. She looked like she wanted to do some licking of her own.”

  Xavier growled—not at the idea of the human PI, but with the recent memory of that greasy human male’s hands on Amalie. His tongue on Amalie.

  “What?” she asked, concern lacing her tone.

  “If I didn’t have to babysit you tonight, I’d go back to The Cougar’s Den, scrape the human male up off the ground and remove his eager tongue from his mouth.”

  “I took care of it, Xavier.”

  “Yes. And you provoked it. Humans should not be played with. It’s not good for us.”

  “Us or me?” she said softly.

  Xavier didn’t answer. Doing so would mean he’d have to examine his feelings for his best friend’s sister. And he made it a practice never to do that. Instead, he picked up speed, racing through the bayou lands toward the border. Quiet, except for the sound of the breeze and the buzzing of the insects, reigned. Xavier had actually thought Amalie asleep when she moved in his arms and spoke.

  “Xavier?”

  Goddamn, her soft, yet husky voice wrapped around him. Squeezed the shit out of him. “Yeah?”

  “When we get to the edge of the Wildlands…I don’t think I can shift.”

  “The tequila?”

  She nodded against his chest. “Sorry.”

  With a soft, protective growl, he pulled her closer to his chest. “Not to worry, Amalie. I’ll carry you to the border, and my puma will carry you home.”

  CHAPTER 2

  The moon’s filtered light followed them as they traveled the varied terrain of the Wildlands. Night was in full bloom now, bringing with it cool air and rich, earthy scents. Her arms wrapped around the thick neck of Xavier’s cat, Mal reveled in the smooth cadence of his movement. She’d only ridden on the back of a puma once before. When she’d lodged a thorn in her foot after a hard-won race between a few Hunters last year. But it was nothing like this. Xavier’s puma was not only large and powerful, it was quick and sharp and keen. And riding on his back, under the moonlight, seduced by the scents and the wind, made her wonder how it would feel to not only ride him, but to be ridden—

  Her sensual thought was ripped from her mind as Xavier came to a halt in front of her small, sage green house. For a second, she just remained on his back, wondering why she hadn’t noticed them entering the boundaries of town. Hadn’t, at the very least, scented it.

  She scrambled off of him, and, from the shelter of a rose-trellised archway, watched as he shifted from sleek black cat into devastatingly hot male. Her heart squeezed. Wearing jeans that stretched over heavily muscled thighs and a killer ass, and a black T-shirt that could barely contain his vast chest and bulging arms, Xavier made every female who came within a mile of him sigh. Tall, dark and fierce, he was sex walking. And added to it—Mal’s favorite attribute of all—those incredible, icy blue eyes. Well, she just wanted to get lost in him and not be found for days.

  If only he wanted that too.

  Damn. Why couldn’t he notice her? See her as the one female on earth who was perfect for him, would make him happy?

  “Who’s staying with you while Aristide is quarantined?” Xavier asked, following her up the path to her front door.

  “No one.”

  He made a sound deep in his throat. It
was a cross between a growl and a groan, and it made her insides flare with heat.

  “Not acceptable, Amalie.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “You realize I’m a grown female, right?”

  His gaze, those shockingly blue eyes, traveled down her body. Then he looked away and hissed.

  No. He didn’t see her as grown.

  Or wouldn’t.

  Irritation moving over and through her, she turned back and opened her front door with a hiss of her own. She was growing into quite the little masochist. Maybe it was time for that to stop.

  She called over her shoulder, “Thanks for the ride.”

  But before she took a step inside, she felt him at her back, his massive frame pressed against her, his warm breath near her ear. “We’re not done talking about this.”

  Without her permission, her skin went tight, and everything below her waist clenched. “I think I am. I’m tired and still a little drunk and I should probably go to bed.”

  “You can’t stay here alone.”

  “Why not?”

  He moved to her side, leaned against the doorframe. “It’s not safe.”

  She laughed. “Are you serious? I’m a Hunter. Even you would be hard-pressed to get me on my back.” When his eyes narrowed at her words, her laughter downgraded to an embarrassed chuckle. “You know, unless I wanted to be there.”

  His jaw tightened. “I know you can handle yourself physically, Amalie. What concerns me is shit like tonight.”

  “I went out and had fun like a bunch of other people do every damn day. What’s the problem?”

  “You had too much to drink and it affected your judgment.”

  Her judgment? She snorted. Shit, that had been compromised ten years ago when she’d seen Xavier with his shirt off for the first time. Summer on the bayou. Warm water, warmer evenings. Swim party for her birthday, and Xavier—the most perfect birthday present ever—came to hang out with Aristide. Of course, he hadn’t even looked her way. Mal didn’t even think he’d known it was her birthday. But she’d noticed him. Back then and every day since.

  “My judgment is fine,” she told him. “I won’t drink as much next time, that’s all.”