by Danica Avet
The song ended and the kids chanted, “Saber! Saber! Saber!”
The hair on the back of her neck rose and she sensed him staring at her. Daisy wanted to peer over her shoulder at him, the lion with the absurdly short hair, but kept her eyes on the crowd. This couldn’t be Saber. She hadn’t been a part of the rock/metal scene in years, but even she’d heard of them. Hell, when she was drunk and feeling blue, she might have even played a few of their singles to tide her over.
There was no friggin’ way they’d play a small festival like Pointe-Aux-Chat.
“Hello, Maison Rouge!” the lion shouted into the microphone, his breathing slightly labored. “We’re Saber and we’re so…” He paused as though realizing there were young kids out there. “Uh, glad to be here!”
The crowd roared, but Daisy was deaf to their excitement. It really was them. She couldn’t stop herself. She glanced behind her. He was looking directly at her, his golden skin gleaming with sweat. With his sunglasses still on, she couldn’t see if he liked what he saw, but did it really matter? Males of his caliber did not get stupid over females like her. Daisy knew she wasn’t tie-a-pork-chop-around-her-neck ugly, but neither was she gorgeous enough to attract a guy like him. But she sure as hell wished she was. Hell, she hadn’t been this close to such luscious eye candy since the all-male revue her cousin Kitty had taken her to in New York.
His broad shoulders led to a muscled chest with a thin pelt of dark hair that matched the shortened locks on his head. A bead of sweat slid down his rippled stomach to dip beneath the waistband of his jeans and Daisy almost licked her lips. Yummy.
Uh, no. Bad bear! She didn’t lust after big-city boys anymore and she definitely didn’t do lions. But hot damn, he was magnificent. He stood straight and tall, feet braced apart. The black denim hugged his long, muscled legs and caressed the bulge beneath the zipper.
She shook her head. He was still talking.
“We’re on the last leg of our Never Surrender tour and we’ve been trying to find the perfect spot to shoot the video for our latest single, Digging Deep. And I think we found it!”
The kids roared again and Daisy swiveled her head around, peering at the corners at the edge of the dance space. Sure enough, there were cameras set up at several points. Deeper in the shadows she noticed a familiar shape lounging against one of the light posts and her hands fisted. Monk-fucking-Badeaux. She knew without asking he was responsible for this.
“So what do you say? You want to be in a music video?” the singer shouted into the microphone.
The excited screams of the crowd nearly knocked Daisy off her feet. She exchanged wary glances with the deputies to either side of her. If the crowd rushed the stage, they’d be flattened. She braced herself. She knew most of these kids, knew they’d never harm a soul, but they weren’t themselves. If they charged—
“But before we start filming, let’s get a round of applause for the hardworking members of the police force who’re doing their best to keep everyone safe,” he stated in his deep, raspy voice.
Whistles and cheers abounded, some of the frantic energy abating. Daisy’s body relaxed a bit. Okay, so maybe the big-city lion wasn’t a complete asshole. She shot him a thankful grin over her shoulder and almost passed out when she noticed he’d crouched right behind her.
She could smell him, all male musk and heat with a wild tang of cat underneath. He’d propped the sunglasses on top of his head, his amber eyes pinning her in place. He must’ve signaled the band because the song started, fast and heavy.
Daisy was only peripherally aware of the mosh pit starting again because the lion hypnotized her. He did it without saying a word, letting the heat and hunger in his eyes do all the talking.
And then he started singing. The lyrics poured from his mouth, sinking right through Daisy’s skin and into her blood. This time she heard the words. No, that was wrong. She felt them. Despite being nearly shouted at her in his rough baritone, they washed over her like gentle laps of his tongue.
Daisy’s skin heated and the flesh between her thighs grew slick and swollen. The plain cotton bra she wore beneath her uniform chafed nipples that grew overly sensitive. She scented her arousal on the air and knew he smelled it as well when his nostrils flared.
Someone bumped into her, shocking her out of her trance. Daisy blinked and looked around to see the kids still moshing and her fellow deputies doing their best to contain them. Brett Melancon, another deputy, shoved a kid back at the pit and shouted, “Get your ass in gear, Picou!”
Oh God. She spun back around to face the roiling bodies slam dancing in front of her, but in her mind, she kept chanting, Oh God, Oh God. The lion was dangerous. He made her want things she’d given up long ago. She had to harden her resolve to stay away from him or she’d end up a notch on some city boy’s very expensive belt. Again.
Ram didn’t know what came over him. He’d been performing for over ten years and he’d never sung a single song to one particular female. It wasn’t necessary. He knew without an ounce of conceit that women would come to him. He never had to lure them to his bed—they wanted to be there and were sometimes embarrassingly eager about it. It had nothing to do with his looks and everything to do with his status as a musician. He could’ve been the ugliest bastard in the world and the chicks would flock to him. Hell that had been part of the reason he’d learned to play music, because women dug it.
Fifteen years later, he was no longer the undersized lion cub who desperately wanted to impress the more physically mature girls at his school. He had a career he loved, friends he couldn’t do without and as much pussy as a single man could handle. Yet he’d just poured his heart out to a stranger.
Digging Deep wasn’t a love song by any stretch of the imagination. It was about raw, agonizing sex—the kind that left you covered in sweat, streaks of blood and come. It was about how a male had to protect himself from falling under the lure of a particular female. It was a song for shifters whose brutal sexual appetites made coupling look more like fighting than something pleasurable.
It had nothing to do with tender feelings, but when he sang it to the deputy, Ram’s whole body had strained toward her. He’d scented her arousal, had seen her pupils explode. He’d wanted nothing more than to fling her over his shoulder, find a quiet spot and dig his claws deep into her hips while he fucked her long and hard.
When one of the moshers had crashed into her, the spell broke. Ram somehow made it through the rest of the song. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but he didn’t like it. Maybe he was coming down with some weird sub-tropic illness or something? It certainly felt like it. His head swam, his eyes wouldn’t focus on anything but that female, and his body was hotter than it’d ever been.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Nick demanded backstage as he looked Ram over.
Ram slumped against the wall, prayed it wouldn’t collapse and when it didn’t, let it take his weight. He felt…drained yet invigorated. His heart pumped double time and he felt strong, but the weird buzz in his head wouldn’t go away.
Nick leaned closer, his topaz eyes studying Ram closely. “Fuck, did you know your fangs are out?” he whispered in shock.
“What?” Ram reached up to touch his mouth and sure enough, his fangs had descended.
“And your mane is growing again,” Nick added, a twinkle in his eyes.
Ram raked his fingers through his hair. Back in the day he’d let it grow how it wanted, but after Clint took the band under his wing, he suggested buzzing away the long locks. Now Ram kept his hair short because he liked the sense of freedom it gave him. A mane was a pain in the ass to haul around all over the place and though he’d just had it trimmed down a week ago, it’d grown a couple of inches.
“Dude,” Nick breathed with wide eyes, “I think you’re in the mating frenzy.”
He shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no scientific proof something like that even exists.”
But Nick wasn’t det
erred. “You started acting funny when you got close to that cop. I think you initiated a mating heat with her.” Ram could only blink in horror when Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratu-fucking-lations!”
Chapter Two
Saber played for an hour and a half. Daisy barely heard any of their other songs, the weird buzzing in her head made it hard enough to pay attention to her job much less the lion running back and forth across the stage behind her. The heavy sluggishness in her mind made her wonder if the hotdogs she’d eaten were bad or something—except it didn’t feel like food poisoning.
Because while her thoughts were fuzzy and distant, her body felt more alive than it ever had. Her nerve endings sang with awareness of the humid air, the sweat that slipped over her skin and the shift of her clothes every time she moved. The ache in the lower half of her body was something familiar, yet still strange.
Daisy didn’t get worked up over every attractive male who crossed her path. She’d been nothing but a mass of raging hormones when she was younger, but at thirty-three she was determined to do everything the right way. She was ready to settle down, start having cubs and ready herself to take her daddy’s place as Pointe-Aux-Chat Parish Sheriff. She didn’t have time to fall in lust with every stray cat that came along, especially when she knew they wouldn’t stick around. She’d played in that sandbox before and she hadn’t liked it one bit.
The last whine of the guitar faded away and the singer shouted hoarsely into the microphone, “You’ve been uh…amazing! Thank you for having us. Good night!”
Hundreds of feet stamped the ground while hands clapped in time with the words, “Encore! Encore! Encore!” Daisy prayed Saber would end it now. She wasn’t sure she could take much more of listening to him singing.
But then the sweet notes of an acoustic guitar sounded and the crowd quieted until only the dim murmurs from the watchers way in the back could be heard. Daisy’s ears pricked with intrigue. Light flickered as the crowd of teenagers and young adults flipped open their phones until they resembled a galaxy of stars.
It was a slower song, but no less dangerous to Daisy’s peace of mind. The lion crooned his way through the words, causing her skin to pebble as his rough voice swept through her. Again, she sensed his gaze on her, but she refused to turn around. Not this time. His words left her imagining what it’d be like to have him whisper in her ear all the things he wanted to do to her. Her body throbbed with want, her bear once again perking up with excitement.
This was ridiculous.
She let out a silent groan. Her gaze sought out anyone free to take her place next to the stage. She had to get the fuck away before she did something stupid like throw herself at the rock star singing behind her. She made eye contact with Willis Franco and she gave her head a jerk.
Once he reached her side, she asked him to fill in for her until the end of the show. With his customary easygoing smile, the black bear shot her a wink. Without looking at the stage, Daisy pushed her way through the mesmerized crowd and tried not to feel as if she’d left something very important behind.
Her parents stood at the back of the crowd, their faces glowing with love as they swayed to the song. Daisy shook her head. They should have looked ridiculous together. Her bobcat shifter father and her black bear mother. Her mom was several inches taller than her dad, but neither of them seemed to care. They adored each other unconditionally.
That’s what Daisy wanted, what she craved more than anything else, but had yet to find. She knew she’d never discover it with the lion on stage, no matter how hot he made her feel. Sexual attraction was not love or affection. It was sex, which was all he’d be able to give her.
Claudette looked over, as though she sensed her daughter’s pain. Daisy shot her mom a rueful smile, rubbed her temples as if she had a headache, and sauntered away from the fairgrounds. She ached all right, but it wasn’t in her head.
*
Hours later, after the fairgrounds were dark and the crowd left, Ram sat back on the tour bus with a bottle of scotch. Luckily there had been no media in attendance. As much as Ram enjoyed being a popular musician, he hated being followed around by the press. The others didn’t seem to give a shit. They were out carousing with some of the legal beauties who’d stopped by the autograph table. Ram had had his share of admirers who’d hinted they would enjoy taking care of his every desire, but he’d sent them on their way.
A week ago, Ram would’ve picked two or three of the females and had himself a fine time. This evening though, he couldn’t strum up an ounce of interest. Nick had mouthed something about “mating frenzy” to the other band members who’d then stared at Ram as if he’d grown another fucking head.
He groaned and tossed back a bolt of liquor. There was no such thing as a mating frenzy. There was chemistry that led to fucking and chemistry that led to mating. Neither applied in this case because the one female he wanted to be buried inside had walked away before he learned her name.
It didn’t matter though, right? He wasn’t sticking around here. The tour was over, it was time to go home, and home was in LA where the rest of the civilized world resided. As he steadily worked his way through the full fifth of scotch, Ram thought about his place. The big house with its perfectly decorated rooms didn’t feel like home. Maybe he’d been a complete ass to let that interior decorator have free rein, but she’d been great in bed and he’d liked the house.
Of course, back then he’d spent more time on the road than at the mansion and even when he did go home, he always had people coming and going. He’d had so many parties at that house, movie stars, rock stars and the people who followed them everywhere had filled it to the seams, making it less lonely. These days, he was tired of the party atmosphere, tired of people falling over themselves when he entered a room.
Ram shifted on the bench at his ungrateful thoughts. If it weren’t for the humans and shifters who bought every Saber album, came to see their shows and shared their love of the music with others, he wouldn’t have a big, fancy house to hate. He wouldn’t be able to tour all over the country doing what he loved the most. But was it too much to ask for a little break from it all?
Apparently so, considering the amount of press Saber attracted wherever they went. Hell, the bastards staked out his house, tried to sneak pictures of him through the windows and went through his trash.
Despite the strangeness of performing a show without all the usual hoopla, he’d enjoyed playing at the festival tonight. There’d been no disc jockeys trying to get an exclusive, no reporters asking about Ram’s latest lover or the solo career he didn’t want.
Of course, that wouldn’t last. The kids had taken pictures with their phones. They’d all be on Facebook or Twitter tonight talking about the surprise concert in their hometown and next thing Ram knew, the press would descend like a horde of locusts. He’d thought about staying here for a little while, maybe taking some time off, but knowing the media would find him made it an impossible dream. At least at home he had the protection of his property line to keep them out. Here, there’d be nothing.
Even as he pondered the lack of warmth waiting for him in LA, his lion prowled in the recesses of his mind. It wanted to go out to look for that female. Ram’s cock hardened at the thought of getting close to her, but he forced himself not to think about her. She was a cop for fuck’s sake. She’d slap him in handcuffs and cart him off to jail for stalking her. The reminder should have made his libido quiet down, except all he could think about was cuffing her to a bed and tasting every inch of her long-limbed body.
He bypassed his glass and grabbed the bottle, hoping to obliterate the images in his brain with alcohol. The lion fought him with every swallow. His claws sprang out and his fangs lengthened, making it damn hard to close his mouth without cutting himself.
Fuck! He slammed the bottle back on the table, cock throbbing harder than ever. Ram had never had trouble controlling his beast—he mastered his animal at a very young age—but now it was
as if all the willpower in the world couldn’t keep the lion in its cage. Heat swept through his body that had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the need to pin that female bear beneath him. He shook his head savagely and drained the last of the scotch.
His lion still stalked through his mind, tail twitching with the need to go on the hunt. Ram leapt from his seat and tore through the minibar they kept on the bus, desperate to drown out his animal’s needs. But he never got another bottle.
Against his will, he was outside the bus, head tilted back to scent the humid, Louisiana night air. There were a variety of odors to sort through, but when he finally caught the faint trace of musk, bear and woman, he shifted and followed his nose.
He cut across a thick marsh, ignoring the swish of alligators on the banks and the curious eyes that watched him from the trees and brush. His only concern was finding that female and taking her. Ram couldn’t fight the animal’s instincts anymore, not with the heat incinerating him from the inside out.
*
Daisy rolled over and punched her pillow again. She’d been wrestling with her bed for two hours to no avail. Her body burned and ached for a male she couldn’t have.
She didn’t understand it. Yes, he was gorgeous. Yes, he was built like a brick shithouse and made her feel almost petite in comparison, but he was a celebrity, a rock star who probably had females waiting for him in every town across the country. Sure, he’d seemed attracted to her, but as she knew from very personal experience, cats were complete…well, alley cats.
Frustrated with the direction of her thoughts, Daisy sat up and glared across her shadowy room. She didn’t have time to fantasize about rock stars. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them. She had a lot to accomplish before her goals were met.
Red House was waiting for her. The house her maternal ancestors built had passed out of the family a hundred years before and no one other than Daisy seemed bothered by that. Saving money on a cop’s salary wasn’t easy, but she did without so she could finally reclaim what the Lebeau women had lost. She could raise a family there surrounded by their heritage.