Unleashed by Shadows (By Moonlight Book 10)

by Nancy Gideon

  “And you chose this? To do this to yourself? To us? To not call? To let me worry that you might be—” Her voice broke, bravery wavering.

  “I’m sorry, Katy.”

  At his use of that cherished nickname, her tartness returned. “I don’t want you to be sorry, Cale. I want you to be all right. I want you to be with me.”

  “I was afraid of what might happen if I stayed.”

  “And I’m terrified of what will happen if you go.”

  Arms wrapping her up in care and tenderness, he brushed his lips across her brow. “I need to finish this, Katy. I need you to understand why.”

  “I don’t! I don’t understand. Your people need you. I need you! You’re their king. My mate.”

  “And I need to do this for them, for you.”

  “But it’s tearing you apart, Cale. I know what it’s doing to you. I’ve seen it before.” She tried to restrain her fears, but they escaped her in a frantic rush. “You promised me.”

  “You’ve seen me pull out of it. I know I can. I know it.”

  Her head shook. Her voice shook. “I can’t take that risk. I don’t want to watch your brothers scatter your ashes. Cale, please don’t do that to me. Don’t do that to us.”

  He held her away, cradling her face in his hands so he could kiss away her tears. So he could kiss her deeply, sweetly, soothingly. She allowed it for a moment before twisting away.

  “No,” she insisted. “That’s not what I need from you. I need to know that you’re going to survive this. And if you can’t convince me of that, you’re going home with me. Right now.”

  “Katy.”

  “Right now, Cale! I will not lose you. I will not watch you die! Don’t you ask me to. I won’t let our clan demand that from you. I won’t allow you to let them.”

  He smiled.

  “Don’t you dare smile at me like I’ve said something cute or amusing.”

  “I love you, Kendra.”

  “Don’t say that thinking you’ll get away with anything.”

  “I got away with the best thing that ever happened to me,” he vowed. “I’m the luckiest man in the world, and I’m saying it because it’s true. And because no one else in this world would stand by me like you do. I can’t do this alone, baby. I need you, Kendra. There’s nothing I can’t do with you beside me. I need you to believe me, to believe in me.”

  Urgently, a man drowning, he searched her pale face and huge, tragic eyes. And he saw with a terrible clarity that she didn’t. That truth staggered him, stealing away his last hold on the man he’d tried to be.

  “I shouldn’t have come.”

  He took a step back, and she was instantly wrapped around him, clinging tight.

  Kendra realized her mistake too late. She’d wanted to help him as a strong mate and queen, but was losing him to a panic she couldn’t subdue. What he was doing frightened her, making her relive those awful years of being isolated, of agonizing loss and despondency. And she couldn’t go back. He was her future, not their past.

  “Don’t go, Cale. We need to talk, to decide what to do next. I don’t want to be like Tina and Alain, living a lie under the same roof. Please don’t let that happen to us.”

  “That’s not what I want, baby. That’s not what I want.”

  His raw candor encouraged her to convince him that what he needed, what was important, was the two of them here together, not a cause that would tear them apart. She rose up to take his mouth with a wild insistence, one he met with equal hunger. Taking from one another what they’d never found anywhere else, with anyone else. Excitement. Comfort. Strength.

  He wouldn’t leave her. Not now with the bond between them heating up to a scorching intensity. The fact that anyone could walk in only heightened her determination to prove her love and loyalty. To show him what he meant to her, how he drove her mad with a desire she had never, and would never, feel for another.

  Trembling fingers worked the stubborn zipper of his pants. He wasn’t wearing anything beneath them and the delighted shock of encountering hot, hard male had her moaning with impatience. She went to her knees, eager to touch, to taste, to devour him. Silk over steel.

  His hands fisted in her hair, whether to direct her or just to hang on for dear life, she didn’t know. She glanced up and was lost in the harsh beauty of features pulled in taut expectation, eyes closed.

  At the feel of her breath along his fevered length, Cale shuddered. His thumbs rubbed beneath her cheekbones, tilting her face up as he looked down, and drew a sharp, startled breath.

  “No!”

  The look on his face. She’d never forget it. She’d never get over it. Such objection, such . . . horror.

  He threw her away from him in fierce denial. She stumbled back, falling, hitting the hard wood floor with tear-inducing force as Cale stared down at her, gaze going blank, brow crowding with uncertainty as he hurriedly secured himself behind the heavy metal teeth of his zipper. A sudden blink and he was bending down, reaching for her in an anxious dismay.

  “Kendra.”

  With a slap at his hand, Kendra rolled away, and scrambled up, backing to a neutral distance.

  “Baby, I’m sorry.” Trembling hands fisted in his hair, his body shaking.

  “You’re sorry?” Her voice quivered and cracked. “What’s happened to you? The only reason you even show up anymore is for sex, and now you don’t even want that from me!”

  He froze, expression stark and still.

  She continued on, growing angrier and more agitated as fear shook her to the core. “Should I see if I can find that paper bag to put over my head so you can pretend I’m someone you do want to be with? I can’t do this anymore, Cale. I can’t live with you like this.”

  When he spoke, his words were so low she could barely hear them. And then she wished she hadn’t.

  “Go home, my queen. I don’t need or want you here.”

  He grabbed up his coat and helmet and strode out of the room, heading for the door without a word or a glance at those gathered in the parlor. Only one thing could stop his dangerous trajectory out into the night. But she never called his name.

  Brigit raced out into the hall in time to see a disheveled, ashen-faced Kendra heading for the stairs. “Kendra?”

  Her cousin lifted a staying hand and, without looking back, ran up to the privacy of her room to be alone, with only the scent of the man she loved to torment her.

  *

  A single headlight washed the road ahead. When it began to waver, Cale throttled back, braking hastily on the crushed shell shoulder. He barely made it off the bike before falling hard to that sharp surface to throw up then remained swaying on hands and knees as fever and chills rattled through him.

  What was happening? Was he losing his mind? Hallucinating? Dreaming while wide awake? How else to explain what he’d seen or thought he’d seen kneeling before him?

  His dream. A nightmare! Of Kendra’s face morphing into Casper Lee’s. So real, so unexpected he reacted without thought. His brusque actions hurt her. He couldn’t escape the sight of her shocked, frightened eyes any more than he could forget Rueben’s pitying stare. He gulped for breath, coming apart, the seams of reality fraying. He couldn’t trust his actions or even thoughts. What was he doing to himself? When had he fallen down the dark, terrible hole he was trying to pull others from?

  He didn’t know how long he could hold out on his own. He needed to flush out his clever brother. He needed James Terriot dead while there was still a slim chance he could save his own life.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Determined buzzing woke Casper Lee from a most entertaining dream. He reached out and gave the figure beside him a swat.

  “Angelo, you lazy bitch, see whose making that racket.”

  When the boy muttered in Italian and pulled the covers over his tousled head, Casper sighed and got up himself, tugging on a silk robe and belting it as he scuffled out into the large suite’s main room. When he switched on the closed cir
cuit to see who was downstairs, his heart gave a leap of surprise as the bowed head lifted revealing pinched features.

  His dream come true. He pushed to unlock the elevator, then waited, breathless as a teenaged girl for a prom date, until finally a tap at the door. There stood a bedraggled Mick Terry on his you are most welcome mat.

  “This is unexpected, Mr. Terry.”

  Head hanging, he mumbled, “Sorry to show up like this.”

  “It’s all right. Come in.”

  “I didn’t . . . I didn’t have any place else to go, and I thought of your offer.” A slight lift of the eyes, quickly darting away, so tortured and lost.

  Casper smiled. “I’m glad you did. Please. Come in.”

  A few reluctant steps inside, he took a nervous survey of the room. “I shouldn’t have come.” He stayed just inside the doorway, hands working at his sides, a wild animal coaxed to the edge of a carefully baited trap. And Casper was determined to make the snare as painless as possible.

  “You’re shivering. I have some cognac that would warm you nicely.” As his visitor started to take a step back, Casper called out, “Angelo, I have a guest.”

  He looked terrible. And delicious. All edgy, explosive tension and vulnerable confusion. The perfect mix. The right words and subtle actions would gain him everything. Casper took a chance and touched his cheek. A brief nudge into his palm before shying away had expectations soaring.

  “Sit down, Mr. Terry. Tell me what it is I can do for you.” He moved into the room’s interior, leaving his visitor standing at the threshold, letting him make the move. Smiling to himself when he went to the couch instead of an isolating chair.

  Angelo appeared, boyishly rumpled in silk pajamas. He cast a sullen glare at the figure on the couch, wisely saying nothing as he poured two snifters and gave both to Lee before disappearing into the other bedroom. He brought the glasses to the couch and sat beside his shaken guest, keeping a non-threatening distance as he extended the drink.

  “Here.”

  As unsteady hands took the glass, raising it for a gulp instead of a savoring sip, Casper eased his arm along the back cushions, careful to keep the move casual as he observed, “Looks like you’ve had a rough night. How can I make things better?”

  “I shouldn’t be here.”

  “Well, you are. So talk to me, Mr. Terry. Let me help you. What do you need?”

  His breathing quickened in agitation so Casper rubbed a calming hand along his shoulders, letting his palm rest at the back of his neck where he kneaded gently. A friendly gesture.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I can’t sleep. I can’t think. I’m sick. I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time. I can’t control it.” Huge eyes lifted, gaze naked and desperate. “Can you help me?”

  “You know I can. That’s why you came to me. What do you need, Mick? Something for the pain?”

  He took several hurried breaths, tempted, resisting. “No. No more of that. I need to get out from under this before it tears me apart. Can you help me do that?”

  His fingers continued the soothing massage of tight muscles. “Of course. Anything you need. Let me help you.”

  He regarded his gently smiling benefactor with such fragile hope. “Please. Is there some way to make a quick break? I can’t take any more of this. I can’t trust myself.”

  “That must be very frightening for you. Trust me. If I can take the pain away, I will.”

  A faint, grateful smile before he bent double, hugging his unsteady knees as a hard spasm shook though him. Casper stroked his hair, admiring his determination even as he appreciated the tempting plays of strength along arms and shoulders.

  Panting raggedly, Terry sat back, casting that pleading gaze his away again. Such an intriguing face, flushed with misery, slicked with sweat. That sassy mouth he’d tasted so briefly thinned in distress.

  “Now. Is there something you could give me now?”

  “I afraid I don’t have any miracles here.” When he groaned, head tossing in despair, Casper caught his tense jaw and slid a consoling caress along the sharply cut cheekbone. “In the morning. I know someone who can help.”

  “Who? Don’t tease me. I don’t think I could stand it.”

  Casper smiled benevolently. “Close by. There’s a woman who can prepare what you need.”

  “A cure? Is it a cure? Not just something to mask the pain? Something that will free me?”

  “Is that what you want, Mick? To be free?”

  “Yes! How far is it? I don’t know if I can make it.”

  “Of course you will. Just at the edge of the Garden District. She has a house there where she grows her herbs and makes her magic.”

  “And she’ll cure me? Is she some kind of doctor?”

  “She’s a miracle worker. Tomorrow, you’ll be free of the pain and the temptation.”

  Those soulful eyes met his, searching in uncertainty. “Why would you do this for me?”

  A quiet laugh. “You know why. And you know I’d do anything for you. That’s why you came here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Casper leaned toward him, lost in the pull of those unblinking eyes. Abruptly, the dark head ducked away.

  “No. Not when I’m like this. I’m not myself.”

  His lips brushed lightly across that furrowed brow, savoring the taste of sweat and fear and desperation then he sat back. “Of course. No hurry.”

  “Can I sleep here?”

  Before he finished his nod, heavy boots came up onto the expensive sofa cushions, wedging between them. Terry lay back on its rolled arm, tucking his knees in tight, eyes closing. Casper sighed as he studied the harshly beautiful face and forced his eagerness down. He’d have everything he wanted soon enough. With a caress of one amazing arm, he relented and stood.

  “If there’s anything you need, I’ll be in the other room,” he said with a hopeful lilt. But his guest was already lost to fevered slumber.

  Patience would be rewarded soon enough. Tomorrow Mick Terry would be his in every way that mattered.

  *

  He remained motionless, pretending sleep while every sense was tense and ready. Finally, the weight lifted from the cushions and danger moved away. The room plunged into darkness.

  Cale’s eyes flashed open to quickly survey what he could see of the room. Taking in the distance from the hall leading to the bedrooms to the security panel at the door. Too soon to make a move. He forced himself to relax rigid muscles and close his eyes. Waiting for silence to settle and movement to stop and the threat of Casper Lee to end. For the moment.

  *

  Casper woke to a sense of anticipation. First business, then pleasure. He checked his phone for messages, feeling a shiver of caution when he saw one from the treacherous Mia Guedry. Urgent was all she said. While his mind wandered to the other room and the guest it housed, he redialed.

  “It’s about time,” came the female’s abrasive voice.

  “What do you want, Ms. Guedry, that’s important enough for such rudeness?”

  “Information you’ll appreciate. The female you asked me to check on. Her name is Kendra Terriot, the clan’s new queen.”

  A cold knot of dread started tightening. “And?” He could sense there was more she was dying to spill.

  “And she’s here in New Orleans to be with her mate, Cale. Otherwise known as Mick Terry.”

  He disconnected the call just as he tried to disconnect from the awful bite of betrayal. Mick Terry was Cale Terriot. Leader of the Terriot clan. He wasn’t shocked. Just terribly, terribly wounded by that truth.

  A pain quickly overcome by cold fury.

  He reached into his nightstand for the silver blade he kept there. Not even bothering to dress, he carried it into the living room, thoughts fixed upon one question.

  Throat, heart, or balls?

  He didn’t have the opportunity to decide. Because his deceitful guest wasn’t there.

  *

&
nbsp; Philo Tidbideaux rubbed at his eyes. Three in the morning? What the hell could be that damned important? He pulled open the door to his apartment to glare out at Mick—no, Cale Terriot who wasted no time on pleasantries.

  “We’ve got business.”

  “Come in. Coffee?”

  “No time.”

  “Can I at least get dressed?”

  He didn’t wait to see the quick nod, gathering his clean clothes for the day from the arm of the sofa and heading to the bathroom. In less than three minutes, his teeth were brushed, he was deodorized, dressed, and undecided if he was more worried or annoyed by Cale’s shrewd gaze jumping between the bunch of covers on the couch and his closed bedroom door.

  “Okay, tell me why I shouldn’t kick your ass for waking me from a good dream?”

  “I was going to wait until morning to tell you Rueben Guedry is in town.” He flashed a feral smile at Philo’s gasp. “But something even better came along. Martine Terriot, drug designer from hell. Want to go knock on her door with me?”

  “Is your brother with her?”

  “No. I don’t think so. But I’d know the scent of those two bitches anywhere. And they’ll tell us everything we want to know. Eventually.”

  That cold ferocity let him glimpse a whole new side to his employee. A very dark and scary side.

  “We’re wasting time. I’m not about to let them get away.”

  “It’ll take a few minutes to gather up some Patrol members.”

  “No.” Cale’s tone brooked no argument. “I think we can handle two females.”

  Philo understood. A trust issue. They’d have to discuss his reason for worry another time.

  “Philo?”

  A soft, feminine voice drew their attention to the slightly opened bedroom door and the partially concealed face of an angel. Tib’s every waking dream.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Just some trouble at the docks. Go back to sleep. I shouldn’t be too long.”

  A nod. “Be careful.”

  That soft petition melted his insides like gelato on a blazing summer day. “I will. Don’t worry.”

  “I will if I want to.” The door closed before she could see his grin.