Prince of Honor (House of Terriot Book 1)

by Nancy Gideon

  “Maybe it wasn’t her choice. Maybe she got to be too much to handle.” Wes scowled. “Don’t look as if that kind of thinking shocks you. We both know maternal instincts aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”

  The question of feral mothers faded. “Has Turow heard these rumors?”

  Wesley shifted uncomfortably under her piercing stare. “They may have been mentioned to him.”

  He and his brothers had tormented the shy, heartbroken boy with their salacious theories.

  “How could you be so horrible?”

  Wes stared down his nose at her. “Really? Horrible doesn’t fall far from the family tree, sister dear. Don’t go throwing stones at me. It’s not like we made up the stories.”

  “You just repeated them.”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? Our father’s sons. As you’re our mother’s daughter.”

  Thankfully, their meal arrived, saving her from having to answer.

  Was she? Was she cast irrevocably in Martine Terriot’s image? If so, would she ever be able to change those spots to become a woman worthy of a man like Turow?

  They ate in silence for a moment, lost to separate thoughts. Finally, Wes asked what was on his mind.

  “Was it awful?” At Sylvia’s questioning look, he clarified. “What happened to Mother.”

  A shudder escaped her. She grabbed for her wine glass, sipping until composure returned enough for her to say, “Yes.”

  “Tell me. All Cale said was that she was dead.”

  She wasn’t surprised by Cale’s lack of details. Coldly, concisely, she laid out the events of that night in New Orleans how their Garden District rental home where Martine grew her herbs and made her magic was invaded while they slept. Turow had grabbed her from her bed, barefooted and in her night clothes while Cale and some unknown Shifter from the Quarter cornered their mother in her potting room. Martine had defied them, refusing to save their lives by spilling her secrets, even after Cale held her only daughter by the throat and threatened to tear her apart inch by inch.

  “And Turow stood by, willing to let that happen?” A lurid flash lit her brother’s eyes.

  “He only hears Cale’s voice. You know that.” She hadn’t expected admitting it would hurt so much.

  “So while your mate did nothing, with Cale ready to butcher you, what did dear Mother do?”

  “She took her life, poisoned herself, to keep her secrets safe.”

  A brief moment of shock registered but was quickly blinked away. “And to save you.”

  Her laugh was bitter. “I doubt my fate played any part in it. If she’d thought there was any way for her to escape, she would have let them murder me. It was the losing, surrendering, coming home in shame and degradation she couldn’t bear. You know Mother.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, sadly. “I do. There was nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice to save her status in the House. Your father, mine, our futures, she never saw them as important. So, she took her life rather than compromise. Ironic, considering what we were just discussing.”

  Turow's mother and her own. Two independent females too caught up in their selfish freedom to surrender it.

  Not like she had, coward that she was.

  “So Mother’s recipe for Kick died with her. That must have set well with our king.”

  “It was the antidote he wanted, considering how messed up he was. When I told him she shared none of her secrets with me, he would have killed me if Turow hadn’t stepped in.”

  That light was back in his stare, a low, vicious glow. “What happened then?”

  “They stripped the house, burned it down over our mother, and took me away in chains.”

  “Is that everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you and Row? When did that happen?”

  “On the road.”

  “Overcome by lust? Or are you trying to tell yourself it was love?”

  She winced at his summation. “Mother’s daughter, remember? I was trying to escape. I left a bread crumb trail, and Jamie’s men caught up to us outside of Vegas.”

  “How’s Jamie?”

  “Insane. I’m lucky he didn’t kill me himself when he found out I couldn’t get production back on line. I had to lie to him to save myself. I told him I might be able to recreate her steps.”

  “Can you?”

  “No.” Except that wasn’t entirely true.

  “So, again, you and Row?”

  “Jamie was going to kill him to send a message to Cale. He saved my life, Wes. I couldn’t let that happen. And I couldn’t stay with Jamie. He’s too unstable. Coming here was the only thing I could think of.”

  “As Row’s mate.”

  “That was his idea.”

  “An idea forced on you?” A very subtle question ripped with violent undertones.

  “No. I’m a survivor. I saw the necessity. And I didn’t exactly fight the suggestion. It seemed the best option at the time.” Liar!

  “And now?”

  Sylvia looked away. “He’s the best I’m ever going to do. He’s a good man. Better than I deserve. Considering.”

  “So, it looks like we both escape this debacle unscathed, you with Turow and me with Rosie to class up our unsavory roots.”

  She smiled, arching a brow. “Rosie? Not exactly a brain surgeon there.”

  He laughed softly. “True. She’s uncomplicated, a pretty distraction that became . . . more. We kind of saved each other’s reputations, mine from our mother’s, hers from her cousin’s. She’s the best I’m ever going to do, considering.”

  They regarded one another, ruminating for a moment over their mother’s great plans for their futures. Futures Martine had tossed away for her own purposes.

  “So, Row is taking care of you?” A multilayered question.

  “He is. He might not have Cale’s power or wealth, but he’ll be good to me. And good for me. I just hope he doesn’t suffer for it.”

  Wes let out a loud laugh. “The look on Cale’s face when Row demanded he apologize to you! I thought I’d die.”

  “I thought both of us were going to die,” she countered grimly.

  Wes waved a hand. “Row’s Cale’s golden boy. If anything, your mate just upped his clan cred a thousand percent. And then, beating down Stephen. Something I’d always wanted an excuse to do.”

  Eager to change the subject, Sylvia asked, “How about you? Are you doing all right? Financially.”

  “I’ve got some nest eggs to fall back on.”

  “But Cale counts on you here as his second.”

  “I’m kinda like the secretary that answers the phone and takes messages when the big dog is away.”

  The trace of bitterness didn’t escape her. “You could always move to Las Vegas and oversee your interests there more closely.”

  He shrugged. “Rosie and I have talked about it. I’ve always liked Vegas better than Reno. And it would give me a chance to spread my own wings.”

  “With Jamie?”

  Her question took him like a load of buckshot. He jerked back in his chair, stunned more than crippled. “What?”

  “The hotel we were in, it was yours. He said he was working a deal with someone close to Cale. Is it you?”

  “No. No! You’re questioning my loyalty? After what you’ve done?”

  “Our mother’s children,” she reminded. “Were you fine with him beating and possibly murdering me? Or was that something you were willing to sacrifice, too?”

  He grabbed her hand, hard. “I have lots of interests in Vegas, most I share with one or more of my brothers. What I don’t have is a death wish, so keep your dangerous ideas to yourself.”

  “With which of your brothers?”

  “Lee, Colin, Stephen, and yes, James. So what? Does that mean I’m playing both sides for my own benefit?”

  “Does it?”

  “And you’re not playing Turow for yours?”

  The check arrived, setting them back in their separate corners to quietly
seethe and speculate. Wesley provided his clan card without a glance at the total. While they waited for the receipt, Sylvia made the first appeal.

  “We shouldn’t fight with each other. We’re all we have.”

  Wes still scowled, angry and on the defensive. “Let’s agree to keep each other’s secret, shall we? What’s said between us goes no farther. What’s known between us stays unsaid.”

  Was he threatening her? Sylvia didn’t want to think so, but she couldn’t afford not to fear the truth he held that could destroy her. One of those rumors that swirled about families, tamped down and hidden safely away. Or, at least, she hoped so.

  Because hers was a shame she could never share with the man who’d believed her worth redeeming.

  The steamy shower was healing and therapeutic. Turow emerged with pains muted and passions restored, eager to show his mate how much he appreciated her efforts that morning.

  Instead of finding her waiting and willing, he discovered a note propped up on a stack of clean clothes.

  “Having lunch with Wes. Get some sleep. You may need it‒later.” A small heart followed instead of a name.

  A heart.

  His stuttered wildly.

  How the hell was he supposed to rest while the significance of that little doodle teased him?

  With Sylvia safe in Wesley’s custody, he needed to escape the enticing swirl of her scent lingering on every surface. Suddenly starving for a meal and, more surprisingly some company, he dressed quickly, forgoing a shave as he recalled the scrape of his mate’s nails along his scruffy jaw as she purred that she liked the feel of it. Anything Sylvia liked was fine by him.

  For now, for the first time practically ever, he had no goal, no driving purpose other than to fill his stomach and wait for his clan bride. Instead of restlessness, a strange contentment settled over him. Heal, she’d challenged him. Perhaps that’s what this was. His time to regroup and recover. And to make a permanent place in his life for the female he’d claimed as his own.

  The male dorm’s dining area was filled with companionable chatter. Balancing a tray holding coffee, two ham sandwiches and a handful of cookies he usually avoided but today appealed to him with their beckoning chocolate chips and raisins, he was surprised by a hail from Colin who sat alone with the remains of his meal, nursing an energy drink.

  “Yo, Row!” He kicked out a seat for him. As Turow placed his tray on the tabletop, his brother stood, a towering mountain of muscle, and grabbed Row up to him for a fond, crushing hug that startled him into near paralysis.

  He and Colin, like the rest of their brethren, had never been pals. The razor edge of competition instilled in them by their father discouraged such friendships. He’d admired his slightly younger brother’s methodical approach to life and, when it wasn’t directed at him, enjoyed his cutting humor. They’d stood together at Cale’s back in New Orleans, though he hadn’t believed any kind of lasting bond had formed between them. He was surprised by how much he wanted that assumption to be wrong.

  Colin advanced that hope with his first words.

  “Sorry about that bullshit this morning. She’s right. I am a dick. Can’t help myself.” He flashed a toothy grin.

  All ill will dropped away in an instant as Turow took a seat. “Yours wasn’t the worst reception we’ve gotten.”

  “Damn. I wish I’d been here. I can’t imagine the look on Cale’s face. Or that the both of you are still breathing after dropping that bomb.” He chuckled to himself, picturing it. “Heard you backed him down. Bet that bought you a helluva lot of popularity points.”

  “Just the respect she was due. That’s all I was looking for.”

  “Never one to be greedy.” Colin eyed him, smiling wryly. “You are full of surprises. She worth it?”

  “Yes.”

  Colin leaned back in his chair, amusement dancing with something more sobering in his eyes. “Hope it works for you. Really, I do. Blazes the trail for others who might be thinking outside the traditional box.”

  Others, like him? Turow wondered. Had the brawny sexual athlete finally met a worthy opponent? Someone their king wouldn’t approve of?

  “When it’s right, you’ll know it. Who they are and what others think won’t matter a damn.”

  Colin pondered that a moment then gave a lazy smile. “She’s good for you. You’re a changed man, Row. It’s a good look. Can’t see the family making it easy for you, though.”

  “Like I said, doesn’t matter. She matters. To me, she always has.”

  Colin had the decency to glance away uncomfortably before asking, “How’s he doing? Cale?”

  “Just got here myself. Seems to be okay. Kendra’s got him on a pretty short leash.”

  “Like he hates that.”

  Turow leaned in. “Did it get worse after I left?”

  Row listened, tense and distressed, as Colin described the days after Row had dragged Sylvia off in chains, in which Cale finally destroyed his demons along with James’s partner, the evil and amoral Casper Lee who had kidnapped Kendra and their half-sister Tina to earn Cale’s cooperation in a fight he wasn’t supposed to survive.

  Through what Colin described as a bunch of creepy-ass Hoodoo shit on the part of Max Savoie and Silas MacCreedy, the clan leader and his right hand in the Crescent City, they’d managed a messy rescue. But James, who seemed to have nine lives, had escaped. Cale and Kendra returned home, while Colin remained to work out a truce with MacCreedy on behalf of New Orleans, along with Mia Guedry representing the Memphis clan. Rico stayed behind to be a pain in his behind, and plans to use the young and innocent Kip for a bit of intrigue were in motion.

  “And you?” Colin asked when he’d concluded his colorful tale. “How was your trip home? Eventful, obviously.”

  Turow took no exception to his brother’s sly wink. “In ways you couldn’t imagine.”

  “Bro, I can imagine quite a bit. Don’t make me stay up nights picturing naughty scenarios.”

  Turow laughed, a deep, full laugh, probably the first ever in the company of one of his half-siblings. He detailed the trip with a lot less embellishment, playing up Sylvia’s heroics and his own down. An entertained Colin displayed equal parts admiration for their exploits and ingenuity, and anger toward their wayward brother.

  “Jamie was gonna kill you? That sonuvabitch! He's used up the last of his favors with Cale, and now he’s out of them with me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Recalled back from his emotional outburst, Colin hedged. “Figure of speech. Dammit, we don’t turn on our own. Not for any reason.” He took a deep breath to settle himself then quirked a smile. “At least you got a mate out of it. How’s that working out? Quite the workout, I’m sure.”

  Turow just smiled, a slow, irritatingly smug grin.

  “You’re a good guy, Row,” Colin concluded. “Just what she needs, too, considering.”

  Alarm bells rang.

  “Considering what?”

  Colin blinked, pulling back behind the wave of his hand. “All the shit she’s been through. You know.”

  What didn’t he know? What was Colin hinting at? More than what was common knowledge? Or was he just baiting him out of habit?

  Colin shoved back with a brusque, “Got stuff to do. See you tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  Turow should have guessed by the way his brother grinned it was nothing he’d like hearing.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Row heard the water shut off in the bathroom and a second later Sylvia emerged. She drew up when she saw him, a complexity of emotions flirting across her lovely face. Uncertainty, caution, a spark of excitement, and best of all, gladness.

  “Hi. I wasn’t sure where you’d gone. I just got back and—”

  Turow reached her in two strides, scooping her face between his hands, holding her fast while he kissed her deep and long. Her hands fluttered about his shoulders and finally grabbed on tight. When he eased back, her eyes were still clo
sed, her damp lips slightly parted as she seemed to struggle beneath the weight of some pleasant dream. She gazed up at him, expression intense and questioning.

  “That must have been some lunch.”

  He smiled. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had something to come home to. I like it.”

  “Good.”

  She put down a hand to find him as hard as a Ponderosa pine. It was unexpected and a bit embarrassing to have so little control, but DAMN!

  Sylvia pushed his coat from his shoulders then slipped beneath his pullover to shuck it over his head. Her palms prowled the definition of his arms and chest. Breaths quickening, he toed out of his boots as she peeled his jeans off his hips and gripped his ass while sharp little teeth nipped at his collarbone.

  “I want you.” A demand, not a request.

  No argument from him. “Have me.”

  Sylvia’s shove toppled him onto the bed. Within the first bounce, she’d straddled his thighs, pinning his wrists to the mattress as she took her time with his mouth. Aggressive, demanding. Exciting as all hell. Her voice growled low and rough.

  “What would make you leave me?”

  What? Where had that come from? Recovering from his surprise, he vowed, “I won’t.”

  She savaged his lips, practically swallowed his tongue as her still-clothed hips ground over his. As her kisses hungered over his rough cheeks, his brow, his neck, she continued almost angrily, pushing, pushing for something he didn’t quite understand.

  “What if I lie to you? If I use you? If I steal from you?”

  “You’ve done those things. I’m still here.”

  Her tone hardened. “If I sleep with other men? With your brothers? With your king?”

  “Cale wouldn’t sleep with you.”

  His teasing reply didn’t amuse her. He winced as she bit his shoulder then caught her upper arms to keep her from moving downward to inflict more damage.

  “What’s this about?”

  Her eyes caught fire, a wild, fierce blaze. “Doesn’t it bother you? Knowing they’ve all been where you are? Knowing you can’t change that?” When he said nothing, she railed at him. “That I might be comparing you to them? Does it make you angry hearing their nasty comments, seeing their sly looks? Does it make you wonder every time I’m out of your sight if I’m with someone else? Doesn’t it make you feel anything?”