by Thorne, Elle
Giovanni’s face didn’t change; then again, he’d looked formidable since the moment he’d walked up. In his white tiger form or in his human skin, either way, Giovanni Tiero was a force not to be taken lightly.
Manuel’s raggedy and wounded shifter entourage backed away from Manuel, toward a spot where the crumbling wall would yield an exit. Without a backward glance, all four shifters leapt over the rundown wall.
“I think this fight’s over.” Giovanni adjusted his red tie, tucked into a pinstriped suit.
“My property stays with me.” Manuel indicated Maia.
He didn’t seem to know when to shut up.
Franco fought the smirk threatening to appear on his face, though his body felt as if it had been battered about in a tornado.
“What property would that be?” Federico Tiero stepped forward, his tone as icy as his black gaze.
Manuel snapped his fingers. “Katya. Moíses.”
Katya slipped out of the building, carrying a sniffling Moíses.
Next to him, Maia shifted into her human skin.
His hand now resting on her hip, he felt the surge of energy coursing through her body as surely as if it were his own.
The energy meant she was reacting to something, but he couldn’t figure out what.
Chapter Ten
Maia stared at the man she knew was her father. Would he know? Could he tell from looking at her and Katya?
Giovanni stepped forward. “Do you know who these two remind me of?”
Federico Tiero stared at them, his face ashen. “Larisa.”
“You knew my mother?” Katya asked the older men.
Maia hadn’t told Katya of the whispers that led to her to seek the man who’d fathered them.
“Unbelievable,” Giovanni whispered then turned to Federico. “Your daughters?”
“It’s true.” Federico stepped forward, gesturing toward Moíses. “May I?”
“Your grandson,” Maia said.
“Larisa never told me.” He held his arms out.
Katya put Moíses in his arms. The little boy tucked his head under the older man’s chin, looking tiny against a massive chest and brawny arms.
Maia glared at Federico and his brothers. “And if she had? Your Tiero code wouldn’t have allowed…” She couldn’t finish the words. She had no more room for hatred.
Franco’s hand rose to her waist, holding her tightly against his body. Wounded and bloody, she wondered what kind of sight they must make.
“The Tieros are not about old code anymore. It is a new day, a new time for the Tieros.”
Manuel stepped forward. “They belong to me.” He pointed toward Katya and Maia.
“They are property?” Federico cocked his head, a warning in his voice. “My daughters are your property?” He glanced at Katya’s sliced cheek, streaked with blood and grime. Then he regarded Maia’s scarred face. “This is how you took care of my family?”
“Wait in the car, please. All of you.” Frederico’s nod included Franco.
Giovanni took Moíses from his brother’s arms. “I’ll see them to the vehicle while you and Niko take care of matters here.”
“I’ll stay,” said Tito, strong, silent, the largest of the brothers.
The four wolves, bulky and gray, stepped toward Manuel.
Even in the car, sitting next to Franco, driving away, Maia could hear Manuel’s screams.
Epilogue
Franco yawned, his eyes on Maia in her leopard form.
He’d shifted out of his panther a few moments ago, fully recovered, wounds from his fight with Manuel and his shifters now sealed and scarred over.
Still in a healing hibernation, Maia stretched, and then her body began a shift while she slept through it. Her leopard’s luxurious fur vanished, her limbs changed, her human features took over.
The sunshine coming through the blinds of the Tiero villa bathed her scarred body. Thin white lines, thick white lines, beautiful puckered lines that bore witness to her strength. Her sides were graced with ones that were fresher, still a bit on the pink side, from her fight with Manuel.
Franco traced the lines with the same reverence he’d have shown a deity, if he were a believer. The only thing he believed in at this point was himself.
And Maia.
She’d risked her life to save his. Something no one had ever done for him. His finger traveled the length of her torso, from her hip, to her rib cage, next to her breast, up her back, then back down, over her ass, firm, full, rising from her body invitingly.
She stretched again; her arms rose above her head then became her pillow as she smiled in her sleep, her face turned to face the sunlight. The dark circles of sleeplessness were gone now. She’d rested, hibernated, and healed while he’d lain next to her, guarding her, waiting for her to awaken, fully healed.
The Tieros had left them alone, while he and his panther refused to leave her side during her healing.
Maia’s lips rested in a tiny pout, a cupid’s bow, an invitation that brought an involuntary reaction in his body. Involuntary, yes—but not unwanted. He relished the ache of his erection, waiting patiently for his woman to awaken and want him.
They hadn’t consummated their unspoken pact. They didn’t need to. He would couple bond with her when she was ready, but they didn’t need that to solidify what they were to each other. Oceans and continents couldn’t rip apart what they had. Nothing could.
Franco leaned in, placed his lips against the scar on her cheek, stark in the bright daylight. He breathed her in, letting his panther enjoy the scent of her as much as he did.
Mine, he said to his panther.
Mine, his panther said back.
Franco touched the tip of his tongue to her flesh, testing the unyielding ridge of the scar’s texture, tasting the salty, all-female flavor of her.
She made a sound, halfway between a purr and “mmm,” and rolled over partially, laying on her side, her one arm flung over her, the other still above her head, biceps serving as a pillow.
Maia pulled him closer then arched her nude body against his, her breasts full, peaks hard, pressing into his chest.
His erection was hard against on her stomach. His gaze took in her face then traveled down between them, enjoying her light-olive skin, with its marks of honor and passion, against his darker flesh, with its own set of scars.
His fingers had a mind of their own, it seemed, as they journeyed down, cupping her breast, his huge palm filling with her creamy flesh. His thumb moved across her nipple. Though her eyes were closed, her rosy lips parted with a slight gasp.
Her black eyes flew open, not a hint of surprise in them.
* * *
Maia knew exactly where she was and who she was with. She leaned forward, placing her lips on his jaw, her touch soft.
Franco’s hand on her breast, the rough thumb teasing her pebbled nipple, made a pulse that throbbed with desire between her legs.
He pulled back, his eyes boring into hers, tenderness in their depths, where an amber light glowed. “That night…”
She knew what he was going to say, knew it as well as if she was in his head. “Don’t say it.” There was no need for apologies. Not between them. Not ever. He’d offered his life for her.
He nodded. “I can’t wait. It feels like I’ve waited a lifetime for you.”
She pushed him down and lay on his body, her legs straddling him, his erection between them, hard and hot. His stomach muscles flexed with every breath as his chest rose and pressed into her breasts.
He pulled her face down, his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her close, mercilessly. His kiss was as harsh as the environment he’d grown up in, but his tongue was tender as it pressed for entrance.
She gave in with a low moan, his unshaven growth scrubbing at her face. He tasted like darkness and light, spice and sugar, earth and heaven. He was the perfect complement to the woman she’d become, and the knowledge of it pushed her desire to new heights. She wrapped
her arms around his neck then pulled his face against hers, ignoring the stubble, wanting all of him. She took his bottom lip between her teeth gently, nibbled then traced it with her tongue.
“Maia.” His voice was a mix of a low growl and a groan. It mirrored her sentiments precisely. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
His hand slid between them, glancing off her clit, the slight impact causing a tremor to run through her.
He sank two fingers deep inside her. She arched her back, taking them in deeper.
He moved them, pressing against a spot that made a convulsion begin at her core. Her moaning was interrupted by her panting. His thumb was on her clit, sending her to a new dimension of pleasure.
Maia drew her hand over his chest, scoring the flesh with her nails as she approached the erection pressing so insistently against her body. She took his width into her hand, its thickness hot against her palm. His groan sent her as she squeezed and stroked him down to the base then back up to the tip. She ran her thumb over the slit, smearing the dewy drop around the mushroom head.
She raised her hand, slipping the tip of her thumb into her mouth to taste him. The earthy flavor of him filled her senses, teasing her core with promise.
His stomach rippled as he pushed her to a sitting position on him, his hardness in front of her, pressing against her triangle. With his hands under her ass, he raised her then grabbed his cock. Watching him wrap his hand around the thickness of his manhood created a wave that pulsed throughout her core.
She lowered herself onto the width that was all Franco. She winced as she took him in deep, stretching to fit. Pain twinged as he went deeper and deeper. He pinned her to him, his hips rising, pushing deep.
She gasped as he worked her body, the pleasure and the pain merging into one, driving her to a peak. Leaning forward, he hands on his chest with its slight sprinkling of black hair, she sank her nails in deep while she writhed and rolled on him, pitching as if she were riding a flimsy boat in the midst of a storm.
A blast of amber in his eyes faded to black. His grip on her hips dug into her flesh. She opened her mouth to scream his name when his lips covered hers, swallowing her scream.
Body shaking, racked with spasm after spasm, she pulled her mouth from his. “Do it.” Her words were a command, torn from her lungs and her heart.
“Sure?” His question was full of passion and a climactic groan.
“Now.” She presented him with her neck.
He sank his canines in at the precise moment his cock swelled and erupted deep within her.
The pain of the bite of his bond was lost in the throes of her orgasm.
“It is done.” He groaned against her, his body hard, hot, sweaty, holding her close.
* * *
Maia took the familiar staircase downstairs, circumstances so very different from the last time she’d been here, when she’d felt forced to pretend she was a stranger.
Warm sounds of laughter greeted her as she held Franco’s hand.
I’m home.
She heard Moíses’s laughter then Katya’s. Her family, her home. She looked up at the black eyes focused on her, a smile playing on Franco’s lips.
Her mate.
Forever.
Rafe and Jax stepped out of the dining room.
“Welcome home, cousin.” Rafe smiled.
Behind Rafe and Jax, Rafe’s parents, Isabel and Giovanni, held hands, smiles on their faces.
A heavily pregnant Sophie stood in front of Niko, who had his hands wrapped around his mate, his large palms holding her stomach.
Katya rose from the table, where she’d been sitting next to Federico, who was holding a giggling Moíses.
Franco squeezed her shoulder, reminding her he was there. That he’d always be there.
She leaned into him. Her rock. Her salvation. And now her family, too.
* * *
The rest of the Tiero family had gone outside to the terrace. Maia, Franco, Katya, Federico, and Moíses were in the living area.
“Your mother was very special to me.” Federico bounced Moíses on his knee. The musclebound shifter cooing at his grandson.
“Then why did you leave her? Why did you leave us?” Maia couldn’t help the pain that came out in her tone.
Federico raised a brow. “I did not leave. She ended it and vanished.”
“Just like that?” Katya asked.
“She left a note saying she didn’t want to upset the balance. She knew about the code and the mixing of shifter types. She didn’t want to create problems for me with my family.”
“So, you left Brazil?”
“I looked for her for six months.” He shrugged. “I shouldn’t have given up.”
“She died while we were still little. I used to have a picture of her with us.”
“Manuel put a match to it,” Katya said. “While you were gone.”
Maia’s eyes burned with unshed tears. She swallowed the lump of sorrow down. “That was the only picture we had of her.”
Franco put his arm around her, drawing her close. She leaned into him for solace.
“I have several pictures of your mother. From our time together.”
Katya leaned across the sofa and hugged Federico. “I can’t wait to see them. Thank you.”
He laughed. “They’re at my home. Which I hope is where you’ll be staying?”
“Of course!” Katya glanced at Maia. “And you?”
Maia looked at Franco. “What do you think?”
Franco nodded, dark eyes gleaming. “I like Rome. We could spend some time here.”
Maia wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned close, inhaling the scent of him.
In her mind, her leopard purred.
“She’s happy,” Franco whispered, close to her ear.
“You can hear her?”
“My panther can.”
She kissed his jaw, happy she and her leopard were one again.
And had their mate.
Keep reading for an excerpt from the next Shifters Forever Worlds.
Excerpt: Desirable
The last time he saw her he promised to spank her curvy derriere. This time, he may do a lot more than that!
Curvalicious Natalya thought she’d never have to grow up. And then she met Lézare. The man who makes her want to be the woman she’s never been. Except his family hates her, and as far as she knows, he does to. So the only option she has is to go to the Shifter Masquerade Ball in disguise.
Lézare desires Natalya. There’s something about this spunky, sassy, mouthy, pouty curvy girl.
Chapter 1
“You’re not going to invite them. You can’t.” Evie stomped her foot, eyes flashing.
Lézare Arceneaux held back a laugh. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate his little sister’s angst. He’d suffered his own share of heartbreak. Hell, he was still living in heartache.
That’s what you get for falling for a woman you can’t have.
He forced a stoic expression onto his face while a battle raged on within him. His tiger knew the one for him.
Lézare was attracted to that woman. God knew, this Arceneaux man was more than smitten, but what was he to do when she had no interest in him? She refused to regard him as anything other than the enemy who’d thwarted her plans.
“Evangeline.” He put a hand on her shoulder.
Evie—Evangeline Arceneaux—was a hotheaded one.
He had to admit, all his sisters were. Such temperamental creatures, white tigresses, stubborn and beautiful. They took after their mother—curvy and dark-haired but with varying degrees of burnished copper highlights. Those were courtesy of their mother’s gene pool as well.
“Simmer.” He pulled her close for a hug. “Surely you can manage a little party, and not let his being there bother you.”
“Lézare—”
“Chère…”
He had a habit of using his mother’s French, though, truth be told, he knew he butchered the language
horribly. However, it didn’t deter him. He had the accent down pat, even if he couldn’t say the words with the precision the glorious language required. It wasn’t easy juggling a Southern accent with a French twist.
“Look,” he continued. “It’s a big house.”
That wasn’t an exaggeration. Arceneaux Point was huge. It stood on a former plantation, originally owned by the man who’d held their father’s people as slaves, long ago, before his great-great-grandfather Étienne could pass for white.
Étienne had built a life for himself elsewhere, far from Louisiana, never once whispering of his slave heritage, allowing his white gene pool to dictate the course of his life and the path of today’s Arceneaux clan.
Lézare’s great-great-grandfather had been one of the rare shifters who wasn’t born a shifter. He’d been turned. How he was turned was a secret he’d carried to his grave, saying that the world had enough shifters.
Étienne had fled after he was turned, built a life in the North, and returned decades later as a wealthy, successful, and unmated shifter. Étienne had two goals when he returned. The first was to eradicate the bloodline of the people who’d held his people as slaves. The second was to take over their home.
And that was how the Arceneaux home—Arceneaux Point—became theirs.
What Étienne hadn’t planned on…
Something that changed the course of Arceneaux history…
When he snuck into the room of the Arceneaux’s twenty-two-year-old, auburn-haired only child Celine, he’d planned to take her life. It was to be the ultimate revenge. She was the last of the Arceneaux.
The unplanned part?
The way she’d made him feel. She’d captured his heart and made it hers as securely as if she’d shackled it.
Celine’s father gave her hand away to the man he thought was a Northerner, and died never knowing Étienne was not only a former slave of, but also a descendant of his own ancestors. He never learned Étienne had left decades ago after being turned into a shifter in the swamps of Louisiana. That former slave had become the owner and the patriarch of a formidable set of shifters at Arceneaux Point.