by Selena Blake
“Jacque?” Juliette cried. She started toward her brother but André instinctively pulled her back to his side.
“You're alive and well,” André said.
“That I am.”
“Ask him how he escaped, cheri.” She looked up at him, her smile faltering. André had a bad feeling that Jacque hadn't escaped a madman at all. He was the madman. The one who'd murdered the rest of her family.
“How did you escape, little brother?”
Jacque cocked his head to the side and studied them. “Your mate is right, Juliette, you should stay away from him.”
André could sense a change in the other man, an increased aggression. He pushed Juliette behind him. “That's not gonna happen, wolf.”
“I should have killed you a long time ago, Deveraux.”
Juliette's gasp echoed through the room and she stepped toward her brother. “It's true?”
“He killed our brother!” Jacque spat at André's feet.
“No, he didn't.” Juliette fired back.
“Why don't you tell her who really killed Leon?” André said.
Juliette turned to André with wide eyes, disbelief written all over her face. Her jaw dropped.
“While you're at it, why don't you tell her who's responsible for the death of Vassar Pack?”
“What have you done, Jacque?”
“I hate that question,” he said, enunciating each word. “Do you know how often I heard that growing up? Always living in everyone's shadow. Always the little brother. I'm not so little any more, am I?”
His eyes turned an unnatural color, bright and yet stormy.
“You did it, didn't you?” Juliette asked, sounding as if she didn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. “You killed them…”
“Sweet Juliette...you should have stayed away. You were safe in France.” His hand moved from behind his back, holding a gleaming silver sword.
The beast inside André roared to life and he let it take over, snapping his bones, stretching his muscles until a towering monster glared down at the puny human. Jacque, as arrogant as he was drunk, held the sword above his head, glancing back and forth between André and Juliette as if he couldn't decide who his target was. His indecision would cost him.
André lunged. They landed on the far side of the foyer. Jacque struck André in the back with the hilt of the sword, and tried to punch him in the gut. André sliced Jacque's belly with his claws. Grunts echoed through his mind as they rolled around the entryway. He bit down, blood filled his mouth and a mournful wail filled the air.
A sharp pain burned through his arm. He used his other to rip a hole in the other man's chest. A solid punch to his jaw jerked his head to the side. Years of fights had taught him how to fight dirty, how to win. Jacque scrambled on top of him, the tip of the sword aimed at André's chest. He bucked hard and sent Jacque flying through the front door. André leapt to his feet and vaulted over the porch, catching the other man around the waist. Snarling and snapping, he punched and sliced at his opponent. From the corner of his eye he saw Juliette standing on the porch, her arms wrapped around her, tears rolling down her cheeks. The tiniest shred of humanity pulled him from the darkness, the hatred.
André's arm gushed blood. Juliette knew what she had to do. Anger, disbelief and fury battered her, threatened to consume her, but through her rage she knew the truth. She knew who'd betrayed her. She knew what had to be done. Justice for Leon. For the Vassar Pack and for the years she and André had lost.
Her bones started to pop as she let her were take over. Her teeth sharpened, ready to rip the flesh from her brother's body. To taste his blood. To make him pay.
“André, stop!” she cried while she still had a voice. He clawed at Jacque, knocking him backwards into the mud. He turned to her then looking completely lethal.
Power coursed through her, completing her change. She took a step forward just as André cried out, pain contorting his face. Jacque’s sword protruded from his belly.
She roared with fury, her cry competing with the storm overhead. André dropped to his knees as Jacque withdrew the blade. She lunged, grabbing her brother's wrist, biting clear to the bone, ignoring his attempts to shake her loose. She used every ounce of her strength, every drop of hate and disappointment that had poisoned her for so long and used it against him until she'd bit all the way through his arm.
She ignored the taste of his flesh and the bitter blood on her tongue. Nor did she listen to her brother's screams as they filled her ears. It was too late. He couldn't plead for his life. She wouldn't have listened anyway. She grabbed the sword in her claw-tipped hands and with the speed and grace her kind was known for, she spun, her arm and sword acting as one, slicing clean through her brother's neck.
As his body fell, a howl erupted from her lungs. Grief buckled her knees and she sank into the muck, the sword dropping from her hand. Deep racking sobs claimed her as she returned to her human form. She cried for all the sorrows in her life. All that she'd lost. Everyone she'd loved.
Her tears mixed with the rain. She cried until she could cry no more. As a child she’d learned to hate such weakness, but couldn’t help herself now.
Beside her, André groaned.
“André?” She turned to him then. He lay there in his human form, his blood coloring the mud. He leaned up, sucking in a sharp breath. He looked at Jacque's headless body and then into her eyes.
“Oh, cheri.” His tender words were her undoing. A fresh wave of pain swept through her. She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth.
“I had to….I had to,” she repeated, more to herself than him. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts. “Gone. Everything's gone.”
“I know,” he said quietly, in that calming voice of his.
“I couldn't let him kill you too. I couldn't.”
André watched as her face crumpled and tears fell. Her pain was a living thing. He reached out to her. She collapsed in his arms, buried her face against his neck, sobs shaking her to the core.
Wind screamed through the trees. He closed his eyes for a moment and just held her, soaked up her warmth, let her tears wash over his skin. It was cleansing. And for a few moments, the whole world fell away until it was just the two of them again, together in each others arms. Wrapped up in each other. Comforting each other.
He felt her heartbeat thumping against his chest, the pace slowing each minute she lay against him. Her sobs stopped and she let out a shuddering breath.
“I couldn't do it,” he said, surprised as much at the words as the fact that he'd said them aloud. But it was true. He couldn't have taken Jacque's life, no matter how much he'd craved to do so. Killing the bastard would have been one more thing standing between him and Juliette. One more reason for her to hate him.
But now that she knew the truth, would she still hate him? The question made him uncomfortable. What if she didn't hate him, what then? Could they be...friends? Lovers? Could they go back to the way things had been?
No. They could never go back.
He wasn't sure he'd want to. Twice he'd tried to open his heart to another woman. And both times he'd been unable to do so. He knew now the reason. His heart wasn't his own. After all this time, it still belonged to Juliette.
He opened his eyes and stared at the dark clouds looming overhead, watched the big fat drops of rain fall to the earth. He needed a new plan. And they needed to get the hell outta Dodge.
He smoothed a hand down her back.
“You gonna be okay, cheri?” She nodded against his chest. “Why don't we go inside and clean up?”
She was as naked as he was. Slowly she sat up and glanced toward her brother's body. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Mud smudged her cheek. His gaze traveled over her creamy skin, down her shoulders to her breasts. Her nipples were hard, begging for his lips. Water dripped from the rosy tips. She could have been Aphrodite pulled from the sea. He felt a stirring in his blood as lust sizzled through his veins
. But now wasn't the time. He had a body to bury.
After bringing in her luggage he headed out into the storm to find a shovel. Then he started toward the row of stones overlooking the churning river and began digging at the far end. He knew what those stones meant, what it had cost Juliette to bury her own family there.
As his injury healed, he dug faster, eager to be done. And once he’d hauled Jacque’s lifeless body to the hole and covered him, André stood there for a moment, gazing down at the freshly turned earth. He felt no sorrow that one of his kind was dead. Only the oddest sense of relief. Almost like a small part of him had been set free. Somehow, life would never be the same. The truth had finally been set free. And the bastard who’d caused him so much trouble…so much heartache and pain, was at last gone forever. He could only haunt them in memories now.
But he also knew that Jacque was Juliette’s brother. Her last remaining family. And so he headed for the river’s edge and found a large irregular stone and positioned it at the head of the grave.
Soaked to the bone and caked with mud, he walked back to the house. Wind twisted around him in bursts, shaking the trees and shooting the rain. As nasty as the storm was, it was cleansing too. Refreshing as it washed away the dirt and blood.
Juliette stood at the back door, dressed in a black skirt and silky looking top, her arms crossed over her chest.
“It's over.” Her words were quiet, solemn. “All this time he lead me to believe that you were responsible—” Her words ended on a sob. Her eyes were full of tears and agony. She held one hand to her lips, the other splayed against her stomach. “Oh my God. I can't believe this is happening.”
Her breathing became shallow and quick. Obviously overcome with grief, she passed out. He caught her easily, was getting used to feeling her in his arms again, carrying her high against his chest as if it were where she belonged. He carried her through the house and out the front door to the SUV. After settling her in the passenger's seat, he grabbed a change of clothes and went back inside for her bags. He dressed in slacks and a button up shirt, then plucked her mother's picture from the parlor wall and grabbed the single towel hanging on the stove. Back in the car he toweled his hair dry.
She didn't rouse as he pointed the vehicle toward the main road. Nor was she awake when they crossed over to Florida. What a day. What a crazy, fucked up day. He felt numb, his heart sore. She shouldn't have had to choose like that, between her brother and him.
Though the rain still fell from the sky, the world seemed almost calm around them. The big vehicle ate up the miles, putting more and more distance between them and Savannah. He was almost afraid for her to wake up. But for the first time today, he thanked God that he'd been with her when she went to the homestead. There were some things a person shouldn't have to face alone. A psychopath hell bent on finishing a massacre was definitely high on the list. That wolf had wires crossed in his head. He'd never been right.
André glanced in the side mirror and vowed to stop thinking about the lunatic he'd buried just before nightfall.
Outside of Pensacola he stopped for food. Famished, he ordered six hamburgers and two extra large drinks. As he waited at the drive-thru he wondered if Juliette had eaten anything other than chocolate today. He found it ironic that a werewolf family owned a chocolate empire. And stranger still was Juliette's addiction to cheap chocolate. There must have been ten pounds of Milky Ways in her carry-on.
He was torn between the desire to take care of her and the knowledge that she had the very real power to break his heart all over again...if he let her.
Raking his hands through his hair he stared up at the ceiling. She'd said she couldn't go through it again. But the chemistry crackling between them had been stronger than any he'd ever known. But with that heightened emotion, the incredible physical connection had come an equally incredible pain. A loss that had brought him to his knees. Could he risk feeling that way again? Did he dare open himself up to that again?
Taking the big bag of burgers and the drinks, he glanced at the sleeping woman in the seat next to him. He'd have to play this one close to his chest, give nothing away. It was her turn to lay her cards on the table.
Chapter Five
The steady sound of tires eating up the pavement filled her ears. Juliette propped one eye open, then the other. Darkness embraced them, the rain gone. How long had she been sleeping? Sitting up, she tried to get a hold on her bearings. The scent of food made her stomach growl. The big man at her side chuckled and then dropped a bag into her lap.
Inside she found three hamburgers.
“Aren't you having any?” Her throat was raw, dry.
“I had three already.” That made her smile. Some things never changed. Like his appetite.
She sobered. Or the way he took care of her. She snuck a covert glance at her mate as she unwrapped the first burger. She devoured it, then another, taking a long gulp of cola in between. “Where are we?”
“Nearing the Florida/Alabama border,” he said just as they passed a sign for a rest stop. “Let's stop and stretch our legs, shall we?”
“Sure.”
“Don't sound so thrilled, petite. You'll be rid of me, if only for a few minutes.” There'd been a time when she hadn't wanted to be separated from him for an instant. She could have gladly given up food and water if only she could have stayed locked in his embrace. But right now she was entirely unsure where they stood. Everything had changed. Everything was a jumbled mess.
He pulled into a parking space and cut off the engine just as she finished the last hamburger. One of the things she liked most about being with André was that she didn't have to hide her appetite. Being a werewolf meant consuming tons of calories. Her metabolism worked overtime and she was always hungry. Eating the chocolate helped. She glanced around for her stash.
“Did you bring another pair of shoes?” he asked, staring at her bare feet and the ruined stilettos.
He didn't have to remind her how her shoes had been ruined. Just staring into his dark eyes brought the memories flooding back and an excruciating headache right along with them. She winced and massaged her temples. Did he have to be so damn caring? It just made her want to crawl into his lap and forget this day had ever happened. He was so in control. She envied that. But then, he was Alpha material. A leader through and through.
Closing her eyes, she fought for control. Just when she thought her defenses against André were in place, he did something to chip away at the wall. Without hesitation, he'd buried her brother's body. Her brother who'd murdered her family...every last one of them. Who'd stabbed André in the back. She was now truly the last Vassar.
Fighting off tears, she nodded. “Yes. They're in my bag.”
He got out and slammed the door. Salty, warm air filled the space he'd left.
After a few seconds of rifling through her bags, he opened her door and a pair of black, ballet flats dangled from his fingers.
“Will these do?”
“Perfectly.”
“Give me your foot.”
“I don't think that's a good id—”
“Just do it, Juliette.”
She swiveled in her seat, doing her best to keep her skirt pulled down and her legs together. Touching André always got her into trouble. And after everything, her feelings were so raw she wasn't sure if she could trust her emotions, much less the lust that was fizzing through her veins like tiny champagne bubbles. She was having a hard time remembering that tomorrow the sun would come up again, shining the harsh light of reality on her life. Pain and darkness, combined with André's warm hands, made her want to forget her reservations, her inhibitions. In all honesty, she wasn't sure how to act around him now, especially after the way she’d acted on arrival. Her anger had vanished hours ago.
Slowly, seductively, he slid a shoe onto each foot. His hands were warm against her skin, gentle and sure.
“You remind me of Prince Charming,” she murmured, before she realized what she'd said. Eag
er to cover her blunder, she moved to step down but his hands wrapped around her waist and he helped her to the ground. Her body slid against his, reminding her just how strong he was and how muscular he was under his clothes. More than that, it reminded her of all the times when their bodies had slid together, joining, driving against each other, sweat slickened skin against skin when they'd made love.
“I never claimed to be Prince Charming,” he said quietly. She searched his face and saw the man she'd loved more than life itself. But he was different. Harder, older, even more handsome. Devastatingly handsome.
His head dipped toward hers and she couldn't summon the strength to turn away. Wasn't sure she wanted to. Their lips met in a kiss so gentle it stole her breath. Their relationship had never been like this...a soft exploration. Tempting and sweet.
In the past they'd been frenzied, primitive, their true nature driving them together with breathtaking passion. She'd been mindless, unable to help herself.
Oh, the passion was still there, carefully concealed. His lips were purposeful, searching, taking. And she was quickly becoming breathless.
His arms, strong around her back. Her body blossomed beneath his hands. It was almost as if he were taking his time. Exploring. Memorizing. She let her hands mold to the taunt muscles beneath his shirt, reacquainting herself with each one. Just as he'd said, he was different. A little broader, slightly harder, but still her mate in every way.
If she wasn't careful...with the mystery of her family's death solved, now that she understood just what André had gone through...it would be twice as easy to lose her heart.
But there was still so much between them. Things left unsaid. Could he forgive her?
“André, please,” she whimpered against his lips. She had to slow down.
His lips trailed across her cheeks, nose and forehead. The white hot passion between them was dangerous, threatening to consume them...but a gentle reunion threatened her in a whole new way.
She couldn't succumb to his sensual mastery until they'd cleared the air once and for all. But would he still want her when he knew the truth?