by Nancy Gideon
And best of all, the chance to make New Orleans her home. To have a real family, a rich life to experience with all her senses.
Her first thought was to get to Jacques. Her heart quivered expectantly. To begin a true relationship with him, to confess her secrets, her soul. Picturing Pearl’s reaction to decorating her own room with color and texture and art flooded her with tender joy. Her mate, their daughter, days and nights entwined. Her vision grew starry with tears of something she’d never expected to find—happiness.
The apartment was dark, drapes drawn tight against the lightening sky. She felt Jacques’s presence before actually seeing him seated at the table, an empty plate pooled with fresh meat juices before him, an unopened bottle in his hand. The stillness of his mood checked her, making her cautious and concerned.
“I left you a note,” she began. Was he angry with her for breaking her promise? There was something unsettling about him. He didn’t look her way.
“I saw it.”
A flat statement of fact with no hint of what lay in wait behind it.
“I’ve had a breakthrough in my research. It was right there in front of me the whole time.” Her euphoria surged again as the words burbled up and with it, her need to share everything with him.
“Then you’ll be glad to return to your own lab.”
His words stopped her cold.
As Susanna’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, she could see something else on the table—printouts of an airline confirmation and a boarding pass.
He continued in that low, level tone that had her trembling. “Your flight leaves at 10:30. You’ll want to call and let him know your arrival time so he can pick you up.”
She held herself up by sheer force of will. “Why?”
“I promised you’d be returned. It’s best you go now.”
“But things have changed. We need to talk—”
“Things have changed,” he agreed gruffly. “Everything’s changed.”
A horrible sense of dread settled in her belly. “Jacques, what’s happened?”
He was so still, so terrifyingly calm.
“To keep you here any longer would invite retaliation we can’t afford. Maybe once they get you back they won’t feel inclined to punish us.”
His words were a harsh slap. “You only came for Max.”
His fingers followed the shape of the bottle as if memorizing its cool contours. “He’s our leader, our future. Sacrifices need to be made to protect both. I didn’t really understand that until tonight.”
“Jack, what’s happened?”
He looked up at her then, his eyes a flash of silver. “That’s not my name. That’s not who I am.”
Why was he pushing her away? What had she done?
Then she saw the black sheen of blood on his shirtfront, on his face, and gasped.
Jacques blinked painfully as Susanna turned on the overhead light. He angled away as she came to crouch down beside his chair, shying from the touch of her hand.
“You’re hurt. Let me see.”
“I’ll live.” His glum tone said that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He resisted as she cupped his cheek, then finally allowed her to turn his face toward her.
The damage was fading, the split in his brow almost healed. But the way he avoided her gaze hinted at things unmended. Terrible, hurtful things.
Without a word or a sound, he leaned against her, resting his head upon her breast, eyes closing, pose vulnerable despite the tension strung tightly through him.
What had happened? What hadn’t he told her?
She held him close, one hand stroking over the coarse bristle of his hair, the other riding the seismic tremors that shook briefly through massive shoulders. Then he pulled away.
“Get your things together,” he told her with a savage finality. “I’m going to clean up, then we’ll send you home to your family.”
Her wide gaze followed him down the hall until he was out of sight. Before panic could control her twisting emotions, Susanna reached for a steadying numbness to get her to her feet, to get body and mind to comply as her expectations fell away in ruin. It was somehow simpler to remove herself from those awful, wrenching feelings of loss and crushing sorrow, to find comfort in the cloaking blankness she’d practiced since birth.
She went into the bedroom to gather what she needed to take with her, ignoring the things that linked her to this colorful world. She shut down all her sensory receptors, refusing to process the scents and sounds of Jacques in the shower, the way the water heated his skin, the crisp, clean smell of lather. She packed with an automatic efficiency, then returned to the living room to wait, refusing to feel anything.
If he wanted her gone, she’d go. Why make it complex with questions, arguments, or pleading? The obvious fact was he’d risk his life for the future Savoie represented but not for a chance for them to live in it together. That chance had died when she’d had his past stripped from him, when she hadn’t trusted him with that truth upon her return.
Susanna burned the sight of him into her mind as he came into the living room. He’d pulled on loose jeans, work boots, and a crisp, barely buttoned white shirt. Moisture from the shower still dotted the expanse of chest left uncovered. The shadow of a beard darkened the line of his strong jaw and arched up to circle the swell of his upper lip. Under the heavy ridge of his brows, his deep-set eyes appeared black and impenetrable as he took in her attire, the soft ivory blouse and crisply creased beige slacks, and the carry-on sitting next to her sensible shoes.
“You’re traveling light.”
“I won’t be allowed to keep anything from here where I’m going.” Nothing except her memories. “I’m ready.”
No reason to prolong the inevitable. She picked up her bag and started for the door. When her hand closed over the knob, his surrounded it.
Jacques’s body pressed up behind her, flattening her against the door. Her eyes squeezed shut as he nuzzled her throat, the heat of his mouth sending tremors along her nervous system. His strong tongue stroked up from her delicate collarbone to circle her ear, eliciting more powerful quivers, weakening her knees, altering the tempo of her heartbeat. As his other big hand dragged up her thigh, she rocked back, grinding her hips into him, provoking an ever-hardening response.
The quick pants of his breath became low and raspy, deepening into growls. His nails lengthened and curved, snagging on the fabric of her pants. His already massive body thickened, increasing until he overwhelmed her with his preternatural size and primitive, unstoppable power. Yet he hesitated.
Susanna’s hand slid over his, fingers threading, lifting his rough palm to her lips. “Yes,” she whispered.
He snatched her against him with an abruptness that struck the breath from her lungs, carrying her to the couch, not to lay her upon it but to drape her over its arm. She heard fabric tear as he shed his shirt. Then he caught the collar of her blouse to rip it from her. His bare skin brushed over hers, hot, smooth, glorious.
Emotions roiled through her in a wild, urgent tangle; desire, need, demanding to be satisfied. She heard a vibration rumble in her throat, an answering growl as he tore down her pants and kneed her legs apart.
Yes. Please. Take me. Keep me. Don’t send me away.
As his hand clutched at the back of her neck to still her movements, she was sure his claim would be swift and aggressive. And she’d welcome it, not afraid of him even in this fierce, primal state, because she knew what awaited. Pleasures unimaginable. A connection of body, mind, and soul she craved with an unquenchable thirst, an ungovernable hunger.
She tried to press back against him, swaying, inviting, frustrated when his other hand steadied her hips before slowly rubbing up her bare back until he reached her shoulder. Gripping there.
He took her in one slow stroke, covering already ceded territory with a conquering force until he was sure his claim was complete. Her tiny body tensed and trembled. Then she welcomed him home with a gusty sigh of relie
f that turned quickly into an impatient groan for more. Each purposeful thrust brought them closer, sparking need into higher flame, expanding sensations until they couldn’t be contained within separate hearts, separate bodies, separate minds. Until they were one.
Jacques’s rough breaths scorched against her neck. His voice was unrecognizable, gravelly, rough.
“Need to taste you.”
Yes. Claim me. Make yours again. Don’t let me go.
Susanna reached back, guiding his head to her shoulder. His lips burned upon vulnerable, faintly scarred flesh, parting until she felt the sharpness of his teeth. The shock of his bite.
Ecstasy surged like a racing tide, filling her, rushing over her senses to drown them in a quick seething undertow. Swelling again to sweep her into a sensory bliss. She couldn’t breathe, could find nothing solid to cling to, panicking for a brief moment until she felt the warm beat of water upon her skin.
Was it raining?
Susanna blinked her eyes opened, weak and disoriented, to find herself in the shower. She was perched on the marble seat. Jacques knelt with his back to the spray, gently washing the already healing scratches scored into her hips and thighs. His head was bowed, his brows lowered, as he concentrated on his task. And her heart stuttered.
Her palm cupped beneath his chin, raising it until their eyes met, his so intensely blue.
Never looking away from her gaze, he took her hand, moving it up to fit his cheek. Then slowly he bent until his head rested in her lap, his eyes closing.
Emotion clogged her throat as she stroked her other hand over the powerful swell of his shoulder and arm, marveling at this moment of purposeful submission. Wondering at its meaning.
Please tell me you love me, Jacques. Please say you don’t want me to leave.
Then he straightened and stood, cranking off the water and opening the glass door to reach for towels. One he wrapped about his hips and the other he handed to her with the soft words, “We don’t have much time. Get dressed.”
Susanna’s dreams plummeted.
He was still sending her away.
By the time she’d dried off, he’d left the bedroom. She could smell coffee brewing. Because all her clothes were already packed, Susanna picked from amongst those she’d purchased with Nica, finding a snug pair of leggings that would feel good against the cold Chicago air and a long tunic decorated with black Celtic designs upon bright scarlet. Its low V-neck edged with fluttery ruffles made her look as though she had more of what Nica called boobage. She admired the fit, knowing she’d never be able to wear anything like it again.
“There’s time for coffee, if you’d like a cup,” Jacques called from the other room.
Coffee wasn’t what she needed to warm the cold sensation seeping through her.
“No, thank you. I have a couple of phone calls to make.”
She sat on the edge of the bed they’d shared and placed the first brief call to Nica, then a second, with no little trepidation, to Damien.
“My plane lands at O’Hare at 12:50,” she began without preamble. “It’s Flight 407.”
“I’ll have someone there to meet you.” His tone gave nothing away. No inquires as to whether she was all right, if she’d been harmed. Nothing that displayed any concern at all.
“How’s Pearl?” She fought to keep her voice from quavering.
“She’s adjusting to her new accommodations.”
He’d moved her to the Community in her absence. Panic leapt, but she suppressed it. “I’d like to see her when I get home.”
Damien’s reply was dark and smooth. “That’s not going to be possible.”
“Why not?”
Instead of answering, he stated, “You’ve been very busy. Did you think we weren’t aware that you were remoting into our computers? When you arrive, we need to go over what you’re going to say to your program supervisors. I might have been able to cover for you, but I couldn’t break through your firewall to modify your material into something, shall we say, less traitorous. It will look much better for you if you present it voluntarily.”
Numbly, she asked, “Am I going to be arrested?”
“That depends upon you, my dear, and your willingness to cooperate with the terms I propose for both our futures.”
He ended the call with that silken threat.
She sat for long minutes, not thinking, not feeling, just struggling for the courage to stand.
“Susanna, it’s time to go.”
They stepped into the elevator and Jacques pushed for the garage level. Susanna stood still and seemingly relaxed, but hadn’t managed the strength to look up at the big male beside her. Then the car began to move and he spoke her name quietly.
“Anna.”
Her gaze lifted, revealing nothing.
“Thank you.”
Her brow creased slightly. “For what?”
“Leaving me with memories this time.”
He might not have meant to hurt her with those words, but they wounded deeply. She knew he couldn’t tell from her expression so she forced a small smile. “You’ll forget them soon enough. This is the Big Easy, after all. Beer, gumbo, good times rolling.” She sucked a quick breath as his fingertips touched her cheek. Her composure shuddered, then held firm.
“You have friends who care about you here in this city.”
“I know,” she managed with a slight catch. “But they’ll forget in time, too.”
His hand combed back into her hair, bunching a handful in a fist so she couldn’t turn away as his mouth lowered to hers.
Susanna stood motionless, eyes closed, breathing even as his kisses took and tempted with a greedy urgency. His arms banded about her tightly, pulling her close, refusing to allow her any dignity until she melted against him with a soft little cry. Her tongue mated with his as furiously as their bodies had earlier, leaving her gasping and dizzy when the elevator pinged and the door opened. She stepped away, placing a staying palm against his chest as she took her bag from him with the other.
“Nica’s going to drive me to the airport.”
Jacques blinked, not making any sense of that statement until he saw the slender dark-haired female lounging by the door. He nodded at the wisdom of a quick, clean parting.
“If you need me,” he told her, his words rumbling with heart-shredding sincerity, “you know where I’ll be.”
“Yes, I do.” She stepped out of the elevator and concluded, “A world away from where I’ll be.”
She turned away, letting the door close between them.
And tears were falling before Nica’s sports car cruised past the Superdome on its way to I-10.
“With all that sniveling over there, one would think you’re not anxious to leave.”
Susanna scrubbed at her eyes, braced by her driver’s cool comment. “It wasn’t my idea. I was blindsided with an airline ticket this morning.”
“Isn’t it just like a man to have such great timing with his gift giving.” Nica zipped around a cluster of slow-moving tour buses. “And you, of course, told him you wanted to stay with him in that nice plush apartment.”
“He didn’t give me the chance.” She swallowed down her pride to admit, “I would have stayed with him in that crappy little trailer.” She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent fresh leakage, then blinked fiercely as she demanded, “What happened last night? Do you know?”
“I was there.”
Susanna listened, horrified, as Nica laid out the events of the prior evening in unvarnished detail: Silas’s shrewd plan, the grisly killings of Jacques’s friends, the uncertainty over the fate of their clan.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Nica snorted. “He’s a man.”
A man who would silently accept the burden of his own worries and woes without looking for comfort or asking for support. Why hadn’t he trusted her with his pain? Was sex the only thing he thought she could have offered? She could have . . . what? Comforted him? Taken the terrible burden and
consequence of his deeds away? Offered to stay with him? Apparently not an option. She was his mate. He should have turned to her.
But then, what had she done to inspire that kind of confidence? Erased his memories of her. Pushed all serious discussion of their future together away every time he’d broached them. He hadn’t believed their bond was strong enough for the test. Why would he think differently when she’d never had the chance to tell him of her plans?
But Nica wasn’t going to let Jacques take all the blame. “You might say my man is behind your quick exodus. And I’m beginning to feel a little annoyed with him about that.”
Susanna shook her head. “No. If Jacques had loved me enough to want me to stay, he would have shared all this with me.”
Nica laughed. “Yeah, right. What part of man don’t you understand?”
“Apparently nothing but the good parts.”
Nica downshifted for their exit. “He loves you enough to cut out his own heart. He’s trying to protect you and your daughter from being caught in the middle. If anything had happened to her while you weren’t there with her, he knows you’d never forgive yourself. Or him. Of course, if he knew it was his own daughter . . .” She let that marinate for a moment before throwing it on the fire. “If you loved him enough to trust him with that, he might have surprised you.”
Susanna shifted in her seat to appeal to her friend. “What would you do in my place?”
Nica smiled. “I wouldn’t wait for someone to hand me what I wanted. I’d go after it, no holds barred.”
“And just take it?”
The dark daring eyes fixed on hers. “And just take it.”
At Susanna’s insistence, Nica dropped her off at her terminal without going inside with her. She exacted her promise to watch over Jacques and to let Charlotte know that she’d find a way to monitor Mary Kate’s progress.
And as she waited at her gate at Louis Armstrong International through what seemed endless delays due to weather at O’Hare, she pondered Nica’s words.
Just take it.
Her entire life, she’d been on the receiving end of another’s control. She’d had no direction over choices. She’d been forbidden to do the work that supported her convictions, prevented from sharing a future with the man she loved, forced to hide the pedigree of the child she adored, made to bend to the will of a man she despised.