Immortals of New Orleans Box Set (Books 1-4)

by Kym Grosso

  He smiled, considering the she-wolves who had vied for his attention over the holiday. Preferring to keep jealousy and discourse to a minimum during their run in the wild, he’d rebuffed their advances. Sure, he’d danced with a few and flirted shamelessly, in his usual style, but he’d decidedly stayed celibate. Tristan wanted to keep his head clear and focused, and women certainly had a way of blurring the lines. At the very least, they took up a lot of his time, and time was a commodity when it came to pack activities. Instead of self-indulging, he’d given of himself, concentrating on the needs of all the wolves.

  It was no secret that the pack elders yearned for him to mate, but Tristan knew it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Leading the pack was an earned honor that he enjoyed doing alone. After all, he was by no means lonely; the ladies were drawn to him like bees to honey. Everyone knew that the Alpha happily played the field as long as no commitment was required.

  Tristan had made up his mind a long time ago, that he wasn’t willing to settle for any woman just for the sake of mating. Yes, there’d been women he liked a lot over the years, but no one female was a true mate to his wolf. The only serious relationship Tristan had had in recent years was his friendship with Sydney. While she was well and truly an Alpha female, she was human, not wolf. So while they’d made love on occasion, and he’d even asked her to move in with him, he knew she wasn’t his mate.

  He admitted to himself that watching his good friends find love struck a chord in his heart. Kade and Luca were at peace and truly seemed happy. At times, it made him wonder if perhaps he was missing out on something in life. Regardless, it wasn’t as if he had even a hope of finding his true mate within his own pack. While many of the she-wolves appeared quite lovely on the outside, he knew that most only wanted him for his Alpha status. And the human women he’d met were mostly interested in his bank account.

  Despite the pressures to create a breeding pair for the pack, which would greatly increase the number of cubs born to all wolves in the pack, Tristan had no intention of giving into an arranged mating. No, he’d grown up seeing many an Alpha pair irrevocably tied through a forced mating, hating each other, yet shackled together for eternity for the sake of their wolves. Even though the archaic custom was still practiced in a few regions, Tristan and his brothers had long ago begun the tide of change from old world to modern pack laws. As a result, all of the Livingston brothers lived unmated, but were contentedly and successfully leading their packs. Adhering to the law of the natural selection of mates, they frowned upon imposing an artificial Alpha mating. The new tradition bred strength and happiness into his pack members. Tristan felt strongly about the law; he would not be forced into a pairing nor would he force others in his pack to submit to it either.

  The shit storm that New York Alpha, Jax Chandler, had caused was brought about by his perverse belief that a male Alpha could simply pick his wolf as his mate, indifferent to her agreement. Tristan had always felt strongly that not only would his woman submit to him of her own volition, she’d also choose him as a mate. So when Jax decided he wanted Kat for his mate, there was no way Tristan was letting that asshole simply take his baby sister. From what Marcel had relayed to him, things had settled with Jax. Marcel had spoken to him over the phone, explaining clearly that Kat was in no way interested in becoming his mate. Jax was understandably irritated by her brush off but told Marcel that he’d back off if that’s what she wanted.

  However, Tristan didn’t trust that Jax would give Kat up without at least a face-to-face meeting. It seemed too easy that with one call from Marcel, Jax would give up his claim. After Marcel had told him that Luca had been attacked and had killed Sköll, who claimed to be a New York wolf, how could he trust that Jax would back down? It had been reported that at least seven wolves had been killed outright, and two were missing. Over the past two weeks no one had spotted them, despite large sweeps of Marcel’s territory. Despite Jax’s insistence that Sköll and his wolves were not from his pack, Tristan and Marcel weren’t convinced either way.

  When he got home, Tristan planned to call Kat to tell her to stay down in New Orleans for a few more days, to take some more time off before returning to Philadelphia. It had only been a few weeks since Luca’s attack and Tristan wanted to make sure things were nice and calm at home before she returned. Being down in New Orleans would make it harder for Jax to abduct her if he didn’t keep his promise. By the time Tristan reached the city, the Sunday traffic had died down. Taking the direct route into town, he figured he’d stop off at Eden. While away, he’d left his longtime manager and friend, Zach, in charge of running the club. After a quick inspection to make sure there were no problems, he’d go home and call Luca to congratulate him. Damn bastard was getting married, too. His friends were dropping like flies.

  He smiled, thinking of the petite sorcière that had captured Luca’s heart. Now, she was a lesson in perseverance, he’d thought to himself. She’d been through hell and back and now was making great gains as an elemental witch. Before he’d left on his pack run, Luca had called, and spoke about her like she literally walked on water. Tristan had teased him about being whipped, but he honestly was happy for his old friend.

  Rounding the corner, Tristan’s tires came to a screeching halt as he pulled into the parking lot. Police cars and fire trucks flashed their angry lights as spectators watched the melee. Tristan jumped off his bike, and ran up to the front entrance. Grey smoke billowed upward as the firefighters put out the last of the flames. Zach held up his hands, begging Tristan to step back.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Tristan demanded.

  “I had to run an errand. I was only gone for thirty minutes, man. I swear.”

  “I don’t give a shit if you had to leave. I am only going to ask you one more time, what the hell happened to my club?”

  “Police say someone broke in and set off a Molotov cocktail in the main room near the long bar.”

  “Security cameras?”

  “Not sure, ‘cause they won’t let me in. I’ve been trying to tell them about the cameras. I don’t know the extent of the damage yet. And Eve, she’s still in there.”

  Eve was a fifteen foot yellow boa constrictor, who was on display behind the bar. She wasn’t exactly cuddly but Tristan had raised her from a baby. He needed to get in the building to see if she was alive.

  “Fuck!” Tristan raged. Someone had deliberately set fire to Eden; not enough to burn the whole building down, but enough to send a message. Sensing that the trouble with the New York Alpha was far from over, he pulled out his cell and called Marcel. His suspicions were confirmed; Kat was on the run from a couple of rogue wolves. Her car had been carjacked and they’d killed her driver. She’d managed to make it into the marshlands and had led them on a chase, narrowly escaping capture. Marcel was on his way to pick her up and was setting a trap for her attackers. Tristan cursed Jax Chandler as he ended the call.

  Ignoring Zach’s pleas to stay out of the building, he charged forward. As much as he wanted to interrogate Zach about witnesses or what else the police had said happened, he knew that he could find the kind of evidence that only a wolf could identify. A hair. A nail. Body fluid. A scent. The perpetrators might have left an identifier behind. This had just become personal, and he vowed to go on the offensive.

  Firemen and policemen shouted at him as he tore into the building. Tristan trod carefully as he entered the main room, near the dance floor. The entire area was charred; a fine black soot covered every surface in the room. A barrage of chemicals from the extinguishers along with kerosene permeated the scene. Normally, the club would have been thoroughly bleached in the morning hours; there shouldn’t have been any odors remaining except the jarring whiff of Clorox.

  Foam and water made walking slippery, but he was thankful it was now clear of smoke. Approaching Eve’s vivarium, he noticed someone had broken the glass. She was missing. Maybe one of the firefighters or policemen broke the glass and took her? It was also
possible that the perpetrators had done it and that she’d escaped on her own. Tristan walked behind the bar inspecting the area for evidence of his snake, but saw no trails in the soot or foam. Someone had carried her.

  Sniffing the air, Tristan lifted a board that had fallen off the wall. Underneath it was a small pool of blood; he dipped a few fingers into it and held it to his nose. Female blood. The scent was heady, but he couldn’t place it as a shifter, witch or vampire. Yet it wasn’t exactly human either. If she wasn’t a wolf, then that meant Jax might not be involved in this stunt. With no other identifiable scent besides Zach’s, she was most definitely a person of interest. He’d tear up the city to find the woman who’d torched his bar.

  Tristan wiped the blood on his jeans and scanned the room, surveying the vast damage. He predicted they’d need to tear the entire structure down and rebuild. Releasing a sigh, he resolved to find the arsonist and put an end to Jax’s nonsense, especially given the ambush on his sister. The two events had to be connected.

  Leaving the bar, Tristan heard screaming mere seconds before he registered the sickening sound of creaking. As if appearing in slow motion, flecks of ash floated gracefully from above. Tristan only had time to look up before the charred ceiling came crashing down upon him, crushing him into the rubble.

  TRISTAN’S

  LYCEUM WOLVES

  Immortals of New Orleans, Book 3

  Kym Grosso

  Acknowledgments

  I am very thankful to everyone who helped me create this book:

  ~My husband, for encouraging me to write, editing my articles and supporting me in everything I do.

  ~My children, for being so patient with me, while I spend time working on the book. You are the best kids ever!

  ~Julie Roberts, editor, who spent hours reading, editing and proofreading Tristan’s Lyceum Wolves. I really could not have done this without you!

  ~Carrie Spencer, CheekyCovers, who helped me to create Tristan’s sexy cover.

  ~My beta readers, Stephanie, Liz, Nadine, Katrina, Elizabeth and Sharon, for volunteering to beta read the novel and provide me with valuable feedback.

  ~My street team, for helping spread the word about the Immortals of New Orleans series

  Chapter One

  Tristan smoothed the sleeves of his tux and straightened his tie. His platinum locks had turned a darker shade of blonde after the accident. Yearning for the warmth of the sun, there’d be plenty of time to run wolf later. Right now, he had other plans; tearing the city apart brick by brick in order to find the asshole who’d torched his club.

  A mixture of anger and excitement simmered like a raging fire underneath the cool exterior of his Alpha façade. Not only had he survived the building’s collapse, he’d orchestrated the unthinkable, a new club opening within a week. Tonight, he’d publicly demonstrate his steel resolve to the hundreds of patrons eagerly anticipating the grand opening. His team of warriors, trusted comrades, would seek retaliation for the destruction of his property and attack on his sister, Katrina. Whoever had sought to attack his family was in for a day of reckoning, as he was already strategizing in preparation for the battle.

  The heavy pounding of a techno beat reverberated throughout his private office, reminding him that he needed to go upstairs to greet his guests. The new club was on the penthouse level, fifty stories into the troposphere. Customers, subjected to heavy security on the ground level, took express elevators that emerged to a spectacular indoor twenty foot, cascading waterfall which flowed into a limestone-encompassed Koi pond. Stunning crystal chandeliers and spectacular black marble floors presented an understated sense of elegance.

  The main club, encased in floor to ceiling glass, gave way to a breathtaking, three hundred and sixty degree, panoramic view of Philadelphia. A large spiral mahogany staircase led to a magnificent rooftop deck, which opened to the warm September breeze. Landscaping adorned with tiny white lights, presented patrons with a romantic ambiance in contrast to the pounding club scene below.

  Private luxury rooms, located below the main floor, allowed vampires and supernaturals alike, the privacy they sought for feeding and sexual escapades. State of the art video feeds fed into a central security station. Every corner and crevice of the club, including bathrooms, was meticulously monitored for suspicious activity by a team of experts.

  Tristan hadn’t had to rebuild the club; his real estate investments were both lucrative and substantial, but the club was popular with supernaturals and humans alike. While wolves and witches were welcome, it was the vampires who enjoyed the greatest benefit; easily finding willing donors to satiate their thirst without relying on bottled blood. Humans, on the other hand, often sought to indulge in an orgasmic feeding experience or simply enjoyed walking on the wild side, delighting in the paranormal conversation and sexual ambiance. It was a synergistic relationship, one that he intended to continue to cultivate.

  A new beginning, Tristan thought, as he curled his hand around the cold brass doorknob. This was his city, his territory. Outsiders were already painfully aware of his presence, as he’d placed a moratorium on any new wolves from entering his territory. If found trespassing, they’d be killed without a blink of an eye. There were times when Tristan overtly exerted his dominance, reminding all those around him exactly why he was Lyceum Wolves’ Alpha. And so it began. Letting his power flow out toward his wolves, alerting them to his presence, he advanced toward the partygoers. After a brief appearance at the opening gala, he’d meet with his advisors, then retribution would commence.

  As the private elevator door opened, Tristan smiled confidently at his guests. Urbane and handsome, he nonchalantly strode into the room, commanding the attention of every male and female. He waved to Logan, his beta, who was chatting up a sultry redhead at the bar. Spotting Marcel, his brother, the New Orleans’ Alpha, he crossed the dance floor. Tristan embraced his older brother in a sturdy hug, enough to hurt most men.

  “Hey, why didn’t you come up to the office?” Tristan questioned.

  “What can I say, Bro? There are some mighty fine women down here who required my undivided attention. Nice job with the new club by the way.” Marcel looked casually around the club. Calvin, his beta, sat at the bar, carefully observing the interaction.

  “Always the ladies’ man,” Tristan joked. “Sorry, but tonight is all about business. When I finish my speech, we’re meeting in the conference room. Logan and the others are aware of the schedule.” He patted his brother on the back.

  “Sounds good. See you in a few. Good luck,” Marcel added, knowing his younger brother fully enjoyed the attention of speaking in front of a crowd.

  Tristan smiled back at his brother as he made his way through the crowd toward the stage. The sea of patrons on the dance floor parted as he made his way toward the microphone, uber-aware the good looking Alpha was in close proximity to their gyrating bodies. Women strained to catch a glimpse of the sexy Alpha, demurely curtsying while showing off their cleavage. Males bowed their heads in respect, clearing a wide breadth for the lethal wolf.

  The striking Alpha was the picture of exemplary health and strength; not a scratch or scrape gave a hint that a building had collapsed on him less than a week ago. As he strode through the crowd, he silently acknowledged pack members. His dominant aura permeated the room. The band stopped playing. All talking ceased. Suave and cocksure, he grabbed a glass of champagne off a tray held by a passing waiter, and walked up onto the stage, commanding the attention of the entire room.

  “Welcome to Noir, mes amis!” Tristan cheerfully announced to his guests as he took the microphone. “I am pleased to have all of you here tonight to celebrate the grand opening of Philadelphia’s premier nightclub.” A cool smile broke across his face as he raised a hand to quell the surge of applause. “Yes, yes, I know. It is quite impressive. I’d like to thank Logan for assisting me in this spectacular accomplishment. Please be sure to check out the magnificent views of the skyline from our rooftop bar.” />
  He raised his glass to the crowd in celebration. “Once again, thank you for coming tonight. Vive les loups Lyceum!”

  A loud cheer erupted as Tristan exited the spotlight, determined to meet with his pack leaders. While he felt a splinter of satisfaction with the expedient and successful opening, revenge consumed his thoughts. He’d let his patrons celebrate, while he strategized his plan of action. Shaking hands as he made his way through the crowd, Tristan eyed Logan and nodded. The band started up again, firing off a sultry rock song. Undulating bodies filled the dance floor, writhing and grinding to the music.

  This is why he was Alpha. The blazing fire had barely made a dent in his daily existence. He had easily rebuilt in the face of the fools who’d attacked his territory. The cool vibe of his new club exemplified just as much about him as it did about what was coming; a day of reckoning. Whoever had decided to torch his property had knowingly declared war on his pack. It was time to get to business, find the enemy and obliterate the threat. No one attacked Lyceum Wolves and survived.

  Tristan approached the private entrance behind the bar, and pressed his hand into the biometric security pad. Greeted with a ping and a green light, he typed the code and the door slid open. He marched down the mahogany-lined hallway. Logan and Marcel brought up the rear, making sure that no one followed as the door closed. As he turned the corner, a svelte blonde, well-dressed in a camel-colored suede suit, leaned against the wall admiring her long manicured nails. Mira.

  “Ah, ma chère. You look beautiful this evening.” Tristan slowed his approach, admiring her long legs. Mira Conners, alpha female of the pack, attracted every wolf on the East Coast. She and Tristan had made love on more than one occasion, but they couldn’t seem to make it work as a couple. They were more than ‘friends with benefits’ but less than lovers. Mira was the first female to teach him that sex didn’t equate with love. But his relationship with her also taught him about friendship and respect. A century of being together had a way of weeding out those you could trust from those you couldn’t.