Bayou Heat Collection Two Page 9

  Predatory

  Sentinel Anthology

  May 7, 2013

  ISBN 978-1-4201-2512-2

  Born in Blood

  Book #1 Sentinel series

  December 31, 2013

  ISBN 978-1420125146

  Bayou Heat Series

  Bayou Heat Raphael & Parish

  Book #1 and #2 in the Bayou Heat Series

  January 7, 2013

  ISBN 978-0-9886245-0-4

  Bayou Heat Bayon & Jean-Baptiste

  Book #3 and #4 in the Bayou Heat Series

  April 11, 2013

  ISBN: 978-0-9886245-1-1

  Bayou Heat Talon & Xavier

  Book #5 and #6 in the Bayou Heat Series

  ISBN 0988624575

  July 8, 2013

  ARISTIDE

  By Laura Wright

  CHAPTER 1

  Hot.

  Smoking hot.

  And by the smell of her, human.

  Aristide tracked the waitress with his dark gaze even as he sent the solid green ball into the far right pocket of the one decent pool table at The Cougar’s Den. Around him, a couple of his Pantera brothers hissed and cursed at the clean shot as they finished off their beers. But Aristide barely heard them. His eyes and his nose were trained on the wickedly hot human female working the room. The human female he shouldn’t even be acknowledging, much less lusting over. Dressed in The Cougar’s uniform of black miniskirt and white tank top, she took orders, stopped traffic and made tongues loll. Small, maybe five foot two, she had the body of a pin-up: round and lush up top and around back, where it counted. The perfect amount of succulent flesh for a horny male to fondle and kiss and grip and lick.

  Aristide growled low in his throat and sank another ball with only a quick glance in the side pocket’s direction. He was utterly captivated. As in, his eyes just refused to remain on anything but her for longer than a second. With her shoulder length, night-black hair and pale skin, she was truly stunning. But it was her large blue eyes that really drew him in. They seemed both highly intelligent, and unmistakably vigilant. An unlikely pairing for a Saturday night in The Cougar’s Den.

  Though a Nurturer, Aristide didn’t work in the emotional or mental sciences, but he could always sense panic, confusion, anxiety and fear within others. Sometimes it was so close to a being’s skin, it seeped out into the air around them. And this human woman, who he couldn’t seem to turn away from, had all four infusing her delicious scent. He wondered why.

  She started walking in his direction then, her gaze jumping from a table of older guys, to her cellphone, to some bikers, then to the small Pantera crowd around the pool table. If he wasn’t mistaken, Aristide saw her jaw tremble slightly when she eyed the latter. When she eyed him. He purposely missed his next shot so that when she reached them, he could speak to her first. Human women were always a curiosity to Pantera males, but the Suits he was with tonight were notorious in their preference. Normally Aristide wouldn’t give a shit. Normally, he’d back the hell off and let Roch and Damien make their not-so-subtle moves—moves human women seemed to enjoy and seek out whenever a Pantera male was in The Cougar’s Den. But tonight wasn’t a normal night, and for some reason Aristide couldn’t understand or quell, this human female wasn’t getting near his friends, much less landing on their to-be-fucked list. Hell, if Roch or Damien even tried to touch—

  Aristide’s feral thoughts came to an abrupt halt as those fever-inducing hips he’d noticed a second ago swayed tantalizingly toward him as she rounded the table of bikers. Thank Opela by the time she reached him, his basic ability to communicate had returned.

  “How are you tonight?” she asked in a smooth, feminine voice as her gaze flickered nervously from his eyes to his chin to his mouth.

  “Thirsty,” he said stupidly, his tone lower, harsher, hungrier than he’d intended. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Sounds about right,” she said with a small smile and a bite to her lower lip.

  Aristide’s groin tightened with the action.

  “What can I get you?” she asked.

  He was about to tell her nothing, to go away and don’t come back. And definitely don’t ask his friends the same question or he might have an aneurism right on top of the goddamn pool table. But then her eyes slid upward, over his collarbone, chin, mouth. And those baby blues met his black stare, and he felt a pull on his guts and his heart and his dick unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

  Attraction? Hell, yes. But this was unlike any swipe of attraction he’d ever felt. This was attraction times ten. No. Times a thousand. And without thought, the fingers on his right hand closed around the hem of his jacket as his gut, heart and dick instructed him to order the woman to drop her tray and slip inside his shelter of leather. Inside, against his chest, where it was warm. Where Aristide could keep her close and scent her. Where he could protect her—from the males in the bar, both human and Pantera.

  But who’s going to protect her from you, asshole, a voice inside of him whispered viciously. From what you want to do to her this very second? This stranger. This HUMAN.

  “We have a few beers on tap,” she began, her words a little breathless as she dropped her gaze and quickly checked her cellphone. “Or maybe you’d like something stronger?”

  Something stronger…yes, and maybe hotter, too…something that involved her, naked, laid out on the top of the bar, him poised over her with a bottle of tequila in his hand and a lime wedge in his mouth.

  Once again, Aristide made a growling sound deep in his throat, but he didn’t turn away as he should. Didn’t tell her to leave him be, as he should. He couldn’t. Like it or not, comprehend it or not, this woman held him, and the puma residing inside of him, captive. His gaze traveled over her. Her exquisite face and her smooth, night-black hair…oh, and that mouth. He’d never seen her before, but she reminded him of someone. Who was it? Her dark hair, those shockingly blue eyes and that unpainted mouth that seemed as though it had been stained a deep, berry red.

  His lips twitched as an image popped into his mind. Ah, yes…Snow White. A movie he’d seen as a child. She was Snow White in a tight black miniskirt and three-inch heels. Heels he would make her keep on after he stripped her bare and placed her gently on the bar.

  A hum moved through his body, down below his waist where the evidence of his attraction was straining against the zipper of his jeans. Clearly, he’d been stuck in quarantine with Ashe’s sister, Isi, for far too long. There was no other excuse for this impossible reaction. He’d been desperate for a female before, but nothing like this. And never for a human woman. He needed to get his shit together or get the fuck out of here before he did or said something unforgivably stupid.

  “I’ll take a beer,” he said, forcing his gaze away and back to the pool table. “Any beer. But cold.”

  “Coming right up,” she said.

  Aristide knew that humans had a place in the lives of some of his Pantera brothers and sisters, but that would never be his reality. No matter how hot they were. Or how their skin or their voice or their scent called to him.

  Teeth grinding against each other at the back of his mouth, Aristide grabbed the chalk from the edge of the table and worked the end of his cue. He was one of the males in his species who seriously wanted a mate, and—Opela be blessed—a family to go with it. And his mate would be a Pantera female. Looking, panting or drooling over a human woman was a waste of his goddamn time.

  As he stretched over the table, he heard her taking drink orders from Roch and Damien. Doing her job. Her human job that had nothing to do with him. As his hand tightened around the stick, he tried to block the conversation out and focus on his shot. But it was impossible. His friends were being irritating pricks.

  “I’ll have a beer, beautiful,” Damien said, his tone oozing sexual charm. “And your phone number.”

  “Smooth,” Roch said, chuckling. “Forgive my friend here, darlin’. He’s under the unfortunate impression that
women find him attractive.”

  “And my friend here is under the impression that he’s going to have a beating heart after tonight,” Damien said on a playful growl.

  Aristide lined his cue up with the ball. Don’t look over there. Because if one of those idiots is touching her…

  “Forget the phone number, gorgeous,” Damien continued. “Let me take you out tonight. Somewhere real nice. What time do you get off work?”

  “Sorry,” she began tightly. “I’m busy.”

  “Busy for him, right?” Roch said with a smile in his voice. “But not for me.”

  “Not interested, but thanks,” she said. “I’ll get those drinks.”

  “Ah. You have a male,” Damien said quickly.

  “Something like that.”

  Crack.

  The sound echoed throughout the bar, and Aristide instantly felt all eyes swing his way. Ah, shit. He was hoping everyone would think it was the satisfying sound of his last solid ball dropping into the right corner pocket. But he wasn’t that lucky.

  “What the fuck, Ari?” Roch said, all sexual heat gone from his voice. “You broke the cue.”

  Yes, the cue, and your attempt to hit on the woman.

  My woman.

  Fuck.

  Aristide groaned at the asinine thoughts inside his head. What was wrong with him? Why was he having such predatory, possessive feelings about a complete stranger? One who didn’t have an ounce of shifter blood? And one who had basically said she was taken? He needed to get out of here. Forget the beer, forget the game.

  His eyes came up, narrowed on the Suits. Both Roch and Damien were staring at him like he was crazy. The woman, however, was a few feet away, her gaze completely focused on the screen of her cellphone. She looked pale as shit, and that foursome of emotions was coming off of her in waves now. Panic, confusion, anxiety and fear—all drifting into Aristide’s nostrils.

  Aristide dug into his pocket for some cash. After weeks of being locked up with Ashe’s sister, testing blood sample after blood sample, hypothesizing until his brain felt close to exploding, all he’d wanted to do was have a night off, a few drinks and a game of pool with some knuckleheads. Not cause a scene, driven by his overwhelming desire for a woman who shouldn’t even be on his radar.

  “I’m out of here,” he mumbled, placing the broken cue down on the table and tossing a few more bills than necessary to cover the damage. “Sorry about that.”

  Aristide heard both males call after him as he headed for the door, but he didn’t so much as slow his pace. Heat and desire and confusion and ire were barreling through him at top speed, and he needed some cold air on his skin. Then maybe he needed to get laid. Bury himself inside a willing and warm Pantera female for a few hours and get his sanity back again. Shit, he had a few doors he could knock on. And an empty house he could use.

  He busted out of the front door and into the cool autumn air. The moon was full overhead, lighting the landscape of half-full parking lot in a pale, yellow glow. Sex had always been easy, hot and fun. But it seemed like lately, ever since his sister had mated his best friend and moved out of their family house, Aristide had wanted something else to go along with that heat, that fun. Something lasting and real. Something that filled his empty house, and shit, his empty heart. A true Pantera mating. It was something he wasn’t about to find in The Cougar’s Den. He needed to return to the Wildlands where he belonged.

  As he headed down the steps and into the parking lot, something caught his peripheral vision and he turned. A woman, he thought. No. It was the woman. His waitress. Snow White. He paused near a black pick-up truck and watched as she rounded the corner of the bar and walked swiftly toward a rusted green hatchback. Was she done with her work already? And where was she going in such a rush? Home? To her male? he ground out inside his mind. Damn, he despised how much his body screamed at him to go after her, question her, convince her to look for comfort and pleasure elsewhere. With him.

  She was talking animatedly on her cellphone, while searching her purse for something. A moment later, she fished out a set of keys, her hand shaking terribly as she tried to slip one into the lock of her car door. Something rippled through Aristide as he remembered her face in the bar, the worry in her eyes, the fear in her scent, the constant checking of her cellphone. Was she in trouble?

  His puma scratched at his insides, but Aristide shoved the cat away. He shouldn’t be concerned about her. No matter what his mind said or his dick begged for, she wasn’t for him. She belonged to someone else. A human male, no doubt.

  Yet Aristide remained where he was, watching as she slipped inside her vehicle, hurriedly backed out of the space and hauled ass out of the parking lot. Yes, something was wrong.

  Aristide’s gaze flickered toward the bayou in the distance, the Wildlands where he should be headed, first on foot, then on paws. Then a sound yanked his attention back. Another car had pulled out directly after the woman, and was following her way too closely to be anything but a problem.

  “Shit,” he uttered as he abandoned all reason and sense and left the shelter of the truck.

  He sprinted across the lot, his puma hovering close to the edge of his skin. Keeping up with a vehicle for any length of time wasn’t going to be possible, but they were in town and things moved slower with stop signs and traffic lights. Eyes narrowed and vigilant in the moonlight, Aristide ran, faster than he’d ever run before. Over potholes and uneven pavement, the taillights of the car following her blinking scarlet, beckoning him forward. As they hit a red light and a few stopped cars, the woman veered into the empty turn lane. Tires squealed as both cars took the turn at too high a speed.

  His puma driving him, Aristide rounded the corner. He was nearly to the hotel when the sudden and fierce slam of metal against tree trunk erupted in the air. His heart dropped into his shoes, and without forethought he raced forward, uncaring, not stopping until he had the woman’s car door open and her unconsciousness body in his arms.

  “Come on,” he whispered way too goddamn frantically for the total stranger in his grasp. “Wake up. Look at me. Please.”

  On his knees near the door, Aristide stared down at her. She had a gash on her forehead and she looked far too pale for his liking, but her breathing wasn’t labored.

  “Shit,” he cursed when she remained still. “Come on, Female. Open your eyes and look at me.”

  Behind Aristide, car doors opened and slammed shut, and in an instant, it all rushed back to him. And to his puma, as well. Someone was after this woman.

  A fierce and feral growl vibrated in his throat and he eased her closer to his chest as he prepared himself for a battle. It was illogical and strange, but he knew he’d fight to the death for this female. And that would take awhile. A Pantera male didn’t die easily.

  “Ari?” came a voice Aristide recognized instantly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Ice froze the blood in Aristide’s veins. Coming to a stop beside him, towering over him, was the leader of the Hunters. Parish. What the hell? And beside him was his sister, Keira, and another massive, dark-haired Hunter called Lian. They were all staring down at him nonplussed, the moon overhead illuminating their stern body language and expressions. All three were in pure Hunter mode.

  Suspicious and massively protective of the woman in his arms, Aristide bared his teeth at them and hissed, “You answer first. What are you doing here?”

  Parish knocked his chin in the direction of the woman in Aristide’s arms. “We’ve come for her.”

  Aristide’s wariness deepened. “Why? She’s a human.”

  “Yes,” Lian said with a fierce glare. “And our enemy.”

  Enemy? The word slid through Aristide’s gut, hot and painful. Yet his arms only tightened around the woman. He had no idea what she’d done—or what the Pantera believed she’d done—but in that moment it didn’t matter. He and his puma would protect her, no matter what.

  “Release her, Aristide,” Keira said in calm b
ut authoritative voice. “Release her and walk away. Let us take care of this.”

  Aristide leapt to his feet. The sound that rumbled in his chest, then erupted from his throat and echoed down the deserted street, was so low and so terrible, both male Hunters stepped back.

  “That’s right,” he snarled at them, his puma screaming to emerge. “Keep backing up, shifters. All the way to your vehicle. Then get inside, start the engine and return to the Wildlands. Because this woman will not be touched by anyone but me.”

  CHAPTER 2

  The first thought Katherine Burke had when she awoke was: Am I dead? Followed closely by: No, I can’t be. I can’t leave Noah.

  Panic struck her and she tried to move, to sit up, but strong, gentle hands held her down.

  “Easy,” came a voice she recognized. “You’re all right.”

  Forcing her eyes open, she groaned at the intense light that instantly shrank her pupils and caused her head to ache. “Too bright. Please.”

  The hands left her, and in seconds she heard a click and felt the shocking burst of light recede. Blinking to gain back her vision, Kat took in her surroundings. It was still night, the intense light obviously coming from a bright lamp. She was in a hospital room. Everything was white and sterile, and as her heart kicked against her ribs, her mind bent back to remember what had gotten her here. It didn’t take long for the chase and the accident to come back. Oh, god. Someone was after her. One of those cat shifters she’d written about. No. That she’d lied about.

  “How are you feeling?”

  On a gasp, her head came around and her eyes made contact with the man from The Cougar’s Den. One of the pool players. Mr. Cold Beer. He was in the same clothes, minus the leather jacket. Her gaze rolled over him. Tall, broad, shockingly handsome with short, thick sandy brown hair and black eyes. Her heart kicked. Cat’s eyes. Yes, she remembered. He was one of them. The Pantera. Which meant what exactly? She glanced around again. On second look, the hospital room seemed different than the rooms she’d seen before. Her breath stalled in her lungs. Was she in the Wildlands?