by Tami Lund
“This is true,” Pongo confirmed.
“Tell me how you know so much about gargoyles,” Antoinette asked, clearly ready to change the subject.
Ketu glanced at Pongo, who shrugged. “I have no stake in the goings-on in the city. My mistress and I prefer our solitude. You may speak freely and your words will not be repeated by me.”
Gargoyles did not lie, which was terribly inconvenient at the moment. Last night Ketu had promised to explain, but he’d only done so because Antoinette had clearly been exhausted and he wanted her to get some rest. So now he had to figure out how to tell her about his connection to Pongo’s kind without giving away the fact that he was here in New Orleans specifically to destroy her chosen career path.
“My reeve, Gabe, is part Rojo dragon. His mother lives in New Orleans. Thirty years ago, she put a curse on our colony that wouldn’t allow any members to find their fated mate.” He glanced at Antoinette, looking for any sign that she realized what the hell happened last night. She hadn’t acknowledged the discovery that they were mates. Did she even know? Was that possible? Everything had happened so fast and they had been in the middle of a battle, so maybe she hadn’t connected the dots.
One problem at a time.
“Last fall, I came down here with Gabe and a few other dragons to try to convince his mother to lift the curse.”
“Wait,” Antoinette said. “A dragon put a curse on a colony of other dragons? How is that possible?”
“As it turns out, she’s half witch.”
“The one to whom Argyle was beholden,” Pongo said.
“Yes,” Ketu said.
Antoinette whistled. “I’ve never heard of dragons and witches getting together.”
“It is no different than a gargoyle and witch mating,” Pongo pointed out.
“I suppose that’s true,” Antoinette mused.
“Anyway, her name is Delilah, and…” And what? He couldn’t tell her he was here to track down Delilah—who very likely was Antoinette’s supplier—and end the dragon’s blood trade. “And, uh, I’m just here making sure she doesn’t cause any other havoc.”
“Like what?”
Damn her seemingly innocent curiosity.
Ketu shrugged. “She cursed an entire colony just because she was mad that the guy she liked found out he was mated to another. Who the hell knows what else she might do?”
Antoinette turned to Pongo. “So your friend Argyle was beholden to this woman.” She shifted her focus to Ketu. “And that’s how you became friends with this Argyle person?”
Ketu nodded. He didn’t know how much Pongo knew, but he didn’t want to take the chance the gargoyle might say more than Antoinette needed to hear. “We helped free him from her servitude.”
“Gargoyles do not forget good deeds,” Pongo supplied.
“That’s not a very long story,” Antoinette pointed out.
Ketu could only shrug.
Silence—other than the sounds of nature—enveloped them for long minutes, until Pongo said, “You must be careful.” He nodded solemnly. “The half-witch you seek isn’t in charge. It is the son of the reeve you want.”
Wait, what? Hadn’t Pongo said he tended to stay out of whatever was going on in the city? Ketu glanced at Antoinette, who was watching the gargoyle with clear interest in her eyes. He wanted to ask for clarification, but not in front of her.
The pirogue bumped into something, and Ketu looked up to see that they’d arrived at a crude boat launch of sorts. A handful of old pickup trucks with trailers hooked to the beds were parked in the gravel lot, and a small bait shop with a sign flashing “open” sat on the sagging dock.
Pongo pointed at the wooden building with the rusted, corrugated roof. “Tell the man inside you need a ride to Louisiana Swamp Tours. His cousin runs it, so he’ll get you over there. From there you are only about thirty minutes from the city. I am sure you can negotiate transportation at that point.” He hopped out of the boat and guided it to the dock so that Antoinette and Ketu could climb out.
“Safe travels, my friends,” Pongo said once he was standing in his little boat again. “May you find everything you are looking for.”
And then he pushed off, drifting away. Ketu stared after him.
What, exactly, did he hope they’d find?
Chapter 6
What did Darius have to do with Ketu’s reeve’s mother? What did Pongo know? If only Ketu hadn’t been around, Antoinette would have peppered the gargoyle with questions about his damned elusive comment.
And what the hell did he mean by “May you find everything you are looking for”?
If only these thoughts, these unanswered questions, were all that plagued Antoinette while she and Ketu sat side by side in the back seat of an Uber as it headed toward his parents’ house.
But no, there were plenty of other concerns to bog down her oversaturated mind.
How about the fact that she and Ketu were fated mates?
He hadn’t said a word about it. Surely, he was aware. Fated mates were a universal dragon thing. Even in Detroit they had fated mates. Okay, sure, Ketu said his colony had been cursed for thirty years, so maybe they weren’t as familiar with the concept, but he’d grown up here in New Orleans. He understood that flying was what triggered the magic that bound two dragons together.
For life.
Of course, they still had to make it official. They still had to have sex.
Oh yeah.
Shut up, she practically snarled at her dragon. There will be no sexy times with Ketu Ormarr. No way, no how.
Her dragon pouted, its fat, scaly lip hanging so low it was practically dragging on the ground in Antoinette’s head. She gave the beast a giant eye roll.
Seriously—Ketu? Of all the dragons in her colony—and hell, he wasn’t even part of her colony anymore—it had to be him? He was her best friend’s brother and he’d run away when things got tough.
He thought she was a dragon’s blood dealer, for the love of the gods.
Her.
It seriously burned that he believed that about her. She was the one who’d begged Eulalie not to go back for more. Pleaded with her to see Darius for what he truly was: a slimy, evil, self-serving bastard who used her for his own means. Antoinette had no proof, of course, but considering how new dragon’s blood had been back then, she suspected Darius got Eulalie hooked just to see what would happen to an addict.
And Ketu was convinced Antoinette was now selling the stuff that killed her best friend.
She ought to tell him the truth, make him squirm. Make him feel bad for not having confidence in her.
But she didn’t. For one thing, she wasn’t sure she could trust him. He’d been gone for so long she didn’t even really know him anymore. She sure as hell couldn’t tell him what she was really doing. Based on Pongo’s cryptic remark, the woman Ketu was sent here to observe was somehow connected to Darius. Which meant she probably had something to do with the dragon’s blood trade. And until Antoinette knew exactly how Ketu was involved in all of it, she wasn’t about to share any damn thing with him.
The Uber driver pulled up in front of the Ormarr home and Antoinette hopped out, hurrying up the driveway toward the kitchen door. Before she’d made it halfway, Henri came flying out, still in his pajamas, rushing down the pavement and crashing into her with the force of, well, a child whose parent was unexpectedly gone all night.
“Hey, buddy. Good morning,” she said as her anger and annoyance dissipated with her son’s hug.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going away last night?” he demanded as she lifted him into her arms.
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know ahead of time. It was very unexpected.”
“You were with Ketu.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the tall, muscular dragon standing behind her. He ruffled Henri’s already haphazard curls and said, “Yep. That’s how you knew she was safe, remember?”
“Hey, I can take care of myself,” Ant
oinette protested.
“Yeah, but Ketu is huge. Way bigger than you, Manman.”
“It isn’t always about size,” she said, and then felt her cheeks heat. “Did you go to bed without fuss for Granmé?”
Henri nodded vigorously.
“Good boy. Thank you.” She placed him on the ground and shooed him back into the house.
“I’m going to head to my hotel, grab a change of clothes,” Ketu said. He canted his head. “Do you want to come with me?”
She took a few steps away from him and nearly tripped when her foot hit the edge of the pavement. “Uh, why would I do that?”
Ketu shrugged. “Talk. Or whatever.”
Or whatever?
“What do we have to talk about?”
He arched one brow. “Is that a serious question?”
Shit. He did know what happened while they’d flown together last night. Crap. Hell. What was she supposed to do now? She didn’t particularly want to be alone in a hotel room with him, but neither did she want to have this conversation with his parents and Henri around.
With a resigned sigh, she said, “Do you mind waiting while I shower and change?”
“Nope.”
She headed inside, gave Henri another hug and told him she had to get ready for work but she promised to be home tonight, and then she hurried down the hall to the bathroom.
When she stepped back into the kitchen a short time later, Ketu, Henri, and Mamá sat around the table, playing Sorry. Ketu looked up and grinned at her, and she stuttered to a stop as if someone had placed an invisible force field in front of her. Why was she reacting so strongly to his presence? Surely not because they were fated mates. She and Ketu had known each other for most of their lives.
“I’m winning,” Ketu announced.
“Not anymore,” Henri said as he carefully counted, using the yellow game piece to guide him, until he triumphantly placed it in “home.”
Ketu groaned while Mamá clapped enthusiastically. Antoinette’s heart squeezed as she sucked in air and tried to remember how to breathe.
She hadn’t dated much since Henri’s birth. On the rare occasion someone had tried to talk to her in the grocery store or at Mitch’s, she usually blew them off. She hadn’t let anyone close enough to even meet Henri, let alone do all those sweaty, sexy things she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about doing with Ketu.
She closed her eyes and stifled a groan. How could it seriously be Ketu? Hell, how could she trust that he wouldn’t run away again when the going got tough?
He was hurting too, her dragon said. Everybody reacts to grief differently.
Be that as it may, what did her dragon think she should do? Let him get even closer with her kid? Hook up with him? Then what?
He didn’t want to be in New Orleans. He said himself that he hated the constant reminders of his dead sister. Antoinette hated them too, but, slowly, she was getting used to them. The triggers were becoming fewer and farther between. A little happiness was breaking through all the sorrow. It was something.
“Come sit with us,” Ketu said, lifting his arm like he wanted her to sit in his lap. No, he was simply inviting her to come closer to the table. She moved to Henri’s chair, picking him up and settling him in her lap. She needed the barrier.
“We’re almost done,” Ketu said while Mamá took her turn. “And then we can get going.”
Ten minutes later, Henri won the game. He leaped from Antoinette’s lap and ran around the table, giving everybody high fives.
“This victory deserves some cookies and milk,” Mamá said, climbing out of her chair and moving to the counter, where she pulled the cookie jar close so she could look inside.
“All right, I’ll see you later this evening, mijo,” Antoinette said to her son.
“Will you back be, too, Ketu?” Henri asked.
Ketu gave Antoinette a look she couldn’t read and then said, “Yep. I’ll see you later, kiddo.”
At the hotel where he was staying, Ketu used the key card to open his door, and then he held it so Antoinette could walk into his room first. The maid had obviously been by because the bed covers were tucked so tightly between the mattresses you could bounce a quarter off them. His suitcase rested on the luggage rack in a corner. A pair of sneakers sat next to it, and she spied his toiletry bag on the bathroom counter. The guy was neat, at least when he traveled.
“Make yourself at home. Feel free to order something to eat, if you want. It shouldn’t take me long.” And then he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.
Antoinette kicked off her shoes and wandered deeper into the room, straying over to his suitcase and flipping up the top.
Man, I’m nosy.
Her dragon shrugged.
There were a couple pairs of worn jeans and a handful of slacks in gray, navy, and black. Some polo shirts. A bunch of T-shirts. Socks. A belt.
She pawed through the pile again, noting each item as she touched it.
No underwear.
She glanced over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door. Did Ketu seriously not wear underwear?
Oh my.
She squeezed her thighs together as her nipples hardened and pressed against the fabric of her bra. She’d never really thought about a guy going commando before, but apparently the idea turned her on.
A lot.
Trailing her fingers along the coarse material of the jeans on top of the pile of clothes, Antoinette imagined what Ketu would look like as he pulled those jeans up his muscular legs, higher, over his thighs, until he was tucking in his junk so that it wouldn’t get caught in the zipper.
Why are you dressing him? You should be undressing him!
A giggle burst from her mouth at her naughty dragon’s words.
The bathroom door opened and she swung around, hugging his jeans to her breast. Steam billowed out of the room ahead of Ketu, who stepped out wearing a fair amount of glistening water and a towel that barely stretched around his hips.
Her mouth fell open and the jeans slid to the floor.
He crooked a brow and glanced at the pants now lying at her feet.
“Sorry. I… Why are you not dressed?”
He pointed at the suitcase. “My clothes are over there. And apparently on the floor. What were you doing with my jeans?”
“Uh…There isn’t any underwear in there.” Her face was suddenly so hot she wished she had a damn fan. Or better yet, to bury her head in a bucket of ice cubes.
Ketu grinned. “That a problem?”
She shook her head.
“Is it a good thing?”
She opened and closed her mouth several times.
He chuckled and strode closer. “What happened while I was in the shower?”
She tried to dance out of his way, but her foot snagged on his jeans and she would have tumbled onto the bed if he hadn’t caught her. Except the action loosened the towel wrapped around his waist, and it joined the pants on the floor.
Yep, her dragon said. Bigger is definitely better.
Ketu bent and swept up the towel, quickly wrapping it around his hips again. “Sorry about that. You okay, Antoinette? You look a little flushed.” He reached up and pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. Normally, a purely innocent touch, yet all it did was make her hotter.
“It’s warm in here,” she managed to choke out.
He quirked that brow again. “I was just thinking it’s kind of cool. Maybe you’re getting sick.”
“N-no. Not getting sick. Definitely not the problem.”
“Then what is it?”
What the hell was she supposed to say? That she suddenly wanted him with a desperation she’d never felt before in her life? That she wanted to throw him onto the bed and lick him from head to toe? That she wanted to pay special attention to that impressive joystick she’d just glimpsed? That she wanted to know what it would be like to sit on said joystick?
“Gods, what is wrong with me?” she said, waving her hand in front of
her face, not that it did a lick of good. Her heart raced, her breathing was shallow; she was practically having an orgasm and all the man was doing was standing next to her. In nothing but a towel, but still. She’d never lost control like this before. Even when she’d hooked up with Henri’s father, it had been a calculated decision. She’d been horny, he’d been flirting all evening, and eventually, she’d boldly suggested they retire to his hotel room. She’d intended for it to be a no-strings-attached one-night stand. Hell, if she hadn’t ended up pregnant, she never would have looked him up again and never would have known that he was a cheating, lying louse.
Maybe she needed to be less calculated in the future.
“Maybe you need to go home and lie down,” Ketu suggested.
She certainly wanted to lie down but definitely not at home, and not alone.
“I don’t think that’s going to help,” she said.
“What do you think will?”
A laugh burst from her mouth. He gave her a quizzical look. She shook her head. “It’s crazy.”
“Try me.”
“I…I think I want to sleep with you.”
His jaw dropped to his chest for several seconds before he snapped it closed and then cleared his throat and said, “You do?”
She nodded and then waved at the suitcase. “Yes. So get dressed. Quickly.”
“I don’t have—”
“Get dressed,” she said in her most authoritative mom voice.
He opened his mouth, probably to protest again, but then he slammed his lips together, scooped his pants off the carpet, and fled back to the bathroom.
Damn it, she’d wanted him to argue, maybe drop that towel again. She had little self-control left. He could have taken advantage.
They could be halfway to bliss right now.
And he hadn’t even been aware of the possibilities.
The door opened and he returned, now wearing pants but still bare chested, which was too much temptation all on its own. Not to mention, she now knew what he was sporting behind that zipper.
“You aren’t making this easy, you know,” she complained.