Unleashed by Shadows (By Moonlight Book 10)

by Nancy Gideon

  He turned his head to take her lips, hurriedly, anxiously, needfully until she caught his face between her palms to still him for a slow, seriously soulful kiss. By the time she lifted away, both his breath and heart were gone.

  She smiled up at him. “I know how much, because I feel exactly the same way.”

  “I haven’t made it easy lately.”

  A soft laugh. “When have you ever made anything easy?”

  “I’m feeling pretty easy right now. In fact, if you wanted to, you could probably take advantage of me and I wouldn’t put up a struggle.”

  “Is that right? Good to know.”

  She tugged him over to the bed, tossing off the covers before pushing him down on the edge of the mattress. She knelt to remove his boots and socks, rising up slowly, her hands detailing his legs, his hips, his chest until cupping his face once more for another will-sapping exchange. She stepped her knees up onto the bed on either side of him as she shucked off everything above the waist on both of them. His hands followed her familiar curves, stroking, shaping, adoring until the flat of her palm on his sternum pushed him down onto his back.

  “Just lie there and like it,” she ordered in a husky growl.

  “Yes, my queen.”

  Her hands got busy with the fastenings on his pants, then hers, tugging them both down and tossing them aside before straddling his hips. Sheathing him, teasing with luscious little slides and lifts, she leaned over, breasts grazing his chest, lips sucking at his as she whispered, “Eyes on me. Such beautiful eyes. It’s just the two of us. I won’t share you.”

  Not a great hardship since she filled his field of vision the way she did his heart. Those two things became his whole world. Everything he’d ever wanted, ever needed.

  With the heat of her around him, his stamina was non-existent. The way her expressive gaze darkened with passion, in anticipation, the feel of her quick breaths moist and warm on his lips had him turning over like a well-primed engine.

  He reached between them, stroking, rubbing insistently as he groaned, “With me, baby. With me!”

  She clutched about him then came apart with long, lusty shudders, finishing him deliciously.

  “In everything, my prince. Everything,” she sighed.

  They lay still, panting, kissing, gazes never straying. His fingertips traced along her ribs, her shoulders, down her arms until she trembled.

  “I want to make you happy, Katy.”

  She made a throaty, purring sound. “I am the soul of contentment at the moment.”

  “I hate what I’ve become here. Let’s go home. I want to sleep in our bed with my queen. Can we put all this madness behind us? I’ve broken promises. I’ve said things to you—”

  She touched a hand to his lips. “We both have. Things that hurt, making us afraid, making us doubt. Making me wonder how I could survive without you, because without you, I had nothing, I was nothing. And that scared me even more.”

  His gaze softened with distress. “Katy, I’m sorry.”

  “No. Don’t be. It’s a good thing. Because I realized I couldn’t just live for you. I needed something for me, too. It made me think about what I wanted for probably the first time since we were children.”

  “What do you want?” he whispered a bit anxiously.

  “To be your queen. Someone who can make a difference. Who can make things better for our people. You said that about being king. Your father thought ruling was about power, about having, taking, only to want more. But it’s about giving, isn’t it? You know what I found?”

  He smiled, filled with warmth and contentment. “What did you find, my queen?”

  “That I have a lot to give. My time, my help, our resources. My love. These are our people, Cale, our family. I didn’t understand that before. I want to be strong for them, the way you are.”

  “So,” he mused, frowning slightly, “now I have to share you, is that it?”

  “That’s what it means to rule, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose.” His hands caught her by the hips, rubbing her against him. “Everything but this,” he amended. “This is mine. All mine.”

  The playfulness left his expression. His hands sought hers for a tight squeeze. “I love you, Kendra. We can have that future. Let’s go home. Tomorrow.”

  She kissed him softly. “I have something I have to do first thing in the morning then I’m all yours, my king.”

  “It’s good to be king.”

  He seemed to remember there was something he was supposed to do, too . . . something he wasn’t going to like, but just then Kendra lifted off him and tucked his feet under the covers, and slid in warm and sweet against him. He went out like a plug kicked from its socket. By the time he opened his eyes, the sun was bright and he was alone. But the scent of her was everywhere, all around him. All over him. Lifting his spirit, lightening his burden.

  Reluctantly, he shuffled across the hall to climb into the shower, letting cool water wake body and mind. And both responded surprisingly well. He would have lingered under that revitalizing spray, but a banging on the door and loud, “Hey, save some of that!” convinced him to start the day.

  He wiped down the mirror with his palm until his face appeared. Then he stared for a long moment into his own eyes. They were gray. Not black. That’s what Kendra had meant. His eyes were back to normal.

  Almost smiling, he sought his features beneath those of Mick Terry, and reached for his razor.

  A muttering Rico still paced the hall when he finally opened the door. He waited until his brother’s immediate business was concluded, knocking before the shower started up.

  “Hey, you still got those clippers?”

  Rico peered out at him. “Yeah. Why?”

  Cale ran fingers through his artificially darkened hair. “Time to remember who I am.”

  *

  The three remaining Terriot princes rose up from the table when their king appeared. Because he looked like their king. The black jeans and tee shirt that showed off his clan tattoo, the halogen bright flash in his ear, the strutty walk, smooth features, and a short bristle of red blond hair. And especially, the stormy squint of his eyes when he saw Silas and Nica seated across from Brigit. Then his brows rose in question.

  “Have you seen Kendra this morning?”

  His brothers snickered as they resumed their seats. Kip spoke for all of them.

  “No, but we heard her last night.”

  Rico smirked. “Or was that you?”

  Cale stared at them for a long menacing moment before grinning wide. “It is good to be king.” He turned to the breakfast buffet and eyed the offerings cautiously, waiting for the familiar grinding glass response from his stomach. Instead, he got a healthy grumbling.

  With judicious selections of eggs, potatoes, and ham with toast piled on just in case the rest met with no resistance, he dropped into an open seat between Kip and Brigit, bumping his brother with his elbow and brushing a quick kiss on the cheek of the smiling female. Silas and Nica he ignored.

  “So where’s she off to?” he asked Brigit.

  “She and Tina were dropping Ozzy at school then were going into the city.”

  Cale frowned uneasily. “Did Giles go with them?”

  “They said something about girl stuff and that was enough to chase him away. He had some business with Max. Apparently, Cee Cee got called in on something in the middle of the night that’s taking her out of town and he’s a bit grumpy. Kendra said not to worry. She’d be back soon.”

  Not to worry. Easy for the one who wasn’t worried to say.

  Brigit ruffled his hair. “I see you’ve got your Terriot back on.”

  “Where it belongs. And will stay.” He forked up some eggs, and when they were accepted without complaint, followed with the nicely browned potato cubes before directing the empty tines at the silent couple. “So what are you doing here?” There was nothing the least bit friendly in his tone.

  “Bree asked us to come,” Silas murm
ured. His mood seemed oddly quiet, making Cale immediately suspicious. “Something about putting unwelcomed things back where they belong.”

  Cale set down his fork, his appetite gone. He took a deep, fortifying breath and gave a determined push back from the table. “Let’s get it done.” When he stood, so did his brothers. He waved them down. “Not this time. Don’t interfere. I mean it.”

  They exchanged tense looks but obediently resumed their seats while Silas and Nica rose.

  “The study?” Silas suggested.

  “No. Outside. I don’t want to be closed in.”

  He led the way out into the clamminess of early day, aware Brigit followed as well. She wound her arm through his, holding tight, saying, “Just in case things don’t go well.”

  In case they needed her to put him back together.

  He frowned. Exactly what did they plan to do?

  Silas pulled two wicker chairs from the outdoor arrangement and dragged them away from the dining room windows, down where they would go unseen, unheard. With the chairs facing each other, he sat in one and gestured for Cale to take the other. He did so with wary reluctance. They faced each other close enough for their knees to touch.

  “We’re not going to hold hands and say ‘I love you, man,’ are we?”

  Silas smiled faintly at his caustic drawl. “No. But I do need you to trust me.” At Cale’s sniff, he changed it to, “Don’t fight me. How’s that?”

  “Okay.” Cale frowned as Nica stood behind his chair, looking up suspiciously when fingertips rested on his shoulders.

  “Don’t look at her. Look at me.”

  Silas leaned in until they were uncomfortably close. When Cale met his steady stare, he got the sense of everything around him falling away. He gripped the arms of his chair, muttering uneasily, “I don’t like this.”

  “You’re going to like it less in a minute. Look at me. Hear my voice. Tell me what you remember from the other night.”

  “Lee put something in my drink. He wanted me to go with him so he could kill me. Or fuck me. Or fuck me then kill me.” He could hear himself talking, the words pouring out without restraint as if he had a bit of a buzz. “I wasn’t interested in either plan so I made a break for it. His little boy toy stabbed me. I don’t think he was supposed to. Probably just being a jealous little bitch.”

  Silas’s gaze seemed bottomless. Compelling. His grip on the chair relaxed. His breathing slowed as Silas asked, “You don’t remember being in the car? Me taking you to Susanna?”

  “No.”

  “What we talked about? Or what you said to me?”

  His brows puckered. “No.”

  Some of the tension left Silas’s voice. “Okay. What do you remember next? What did you see? Hear?”

  “Nothing. Dark and quiet. Really quiet. Nice. Then light. So bright.” His eyes squinted up as he remembered. “And—”

  “What? What did you see?” At the shake of his head, Silas pushed. “What did you see, Cale? Who was with you?”

  “My brothers. The ones I killed.” His throat tightened around that truth, making it hard to speak. “Derrick and Michael.”

  “What did they want?”

  He blinked and his face grew wet. “Me to come with them.” His hand stretched out in a gesture filled with yearning. “I couldn’t. Not yet. She said I didn’t have to. Pearl did. She sent them away. Don’t go!” He fell silent, lost, empty.

  “Cale, who’s there with you?”

  He stiffened, respirations stopping.

  “Show me.”

  Silas put his palms to either side of Cale’s face, the intensity of his stare increasing until, with a sharp cry, he let go and lunged back in his chair. “Oh, sweet Christ!”

  Cale lifted his hand, studying it through eyes round with horror. The house, Silas, Nica, and Bree were gone. Blood welled up in his palm, streaming down his arm. He stood alone in a room awash in red. Screams pounded in his head. Beseeching hands clutched at his ankles. Tortured sounds of pain howled around him like tornadic winds. His father’s voice cut through it, sharp as the machete weighing heavy at his side.

  “You want to be a prince in the House of Terriot, act like one. You want my crown, be strong enough to take it. Prove that you’re my son.”

  Cale spoke softly, a strained whisper. “Be like stone.”

  “Silas?” Nica called anxiously, but whatever he’d seen in Cale’s haunted eyes had shaken him to the soul. So she touched her fingertips to Cale’s temples, pressing lightly as she demanded, “Show me.”

  She saw a boy on one knee in a churning sea of unbelievable carnage. Bits and pieces of writhing bodies, gruesomely—impossibly!—animated, surrounded him, clutched at him. The youthful innocence of his face was splattered with gore, his eyes huge and vacant from the unimaginable shock of the things he’d seen. Things he’d done. In one hand, he held a large, dripping blade and in the other, a man’s severed head.

  Wailing cries battered her and the boy, buffeting them like gusts off the Gulf. She put her arms around him, holding tight though he didn’t seem aware of her.

  “Silas, help me!”

  And he was there upon the blood of his massacred family to do what he’d never been able to before. Rescue a young Cale Terriot from the horror of this fate.

  Silas took the boy’s face in his hands and firmly, quietly, commanded those shrieking wraiths around them, “Let him go. The sin isn’t his. Release him and find peace.”

  “Forgive me,” Cale murmured so softly the sound was torn away.

  A wispy figure separated from the ghoulish mass to bend down and whisper something against the boy’s ear. Nica caught a glimpse of a beautiful, somewhat familiar female face as she straightened and gently thinned into vapor.

  And then they were seated on the side porch with only the sounds of their hurried breathing to break the morning silence. A very worried Brigit hovered over them.

  Cale sat still and silent, trying to find his way through the turmoiled emotions of the child he’d been. He let Silas cup the back of his head to draw his brow to his shoulder, heard him whisper low and fierce, “It was never your fault. You don’t need us to forgive you. You need to forgive yourself.”

  He pushed away, unsteady hands swiping at damp cheeks as he met Silas’s stare. Voice roughened with grief, he admitted what he finally believed. “There was nothing I could do to stop or change what happened. I’m sorry.”

  “I know. We aren’t what they made us do, Cale. We’re what we choose to become now that we have a choice.”

  Cale nodded and exhaled a cleansing breath. Could it be that simple? “What now?”

  “Go home. You’ve done enough here, more than I ever should have asked.”

  Brigit hugged Cale tight. “How are you feeling?”

  He considered her question, slightly surprised. “Okay. Good. Hungry.” He managed a smile as she leaned back to stroke a gentle hand along his jaw. The buzz of his phone in the pocket of his jeans distracted him. He glanced at it. “It’s Kendra.”

  “I want to talk to her when you’re done.”

  He stood, pressing Nica’s shoulder lightly before moving away to take the call. “Hey, mama. I missed you this morning.”

  Instead of a reply, a video began to play on his screen. There was no sound. His mate and sister sat at a café table, talking, laughing together. He touched her image on the screen with his fingertips, eyes embarrassingly misty. She looked so happy. He smiled, wondering what they were discussing with such delight until Kendra reached out and took Tina’s hand. And placed it on her abdomen.

  “Oh . . . Katy,” he whispered, throat tight, smile shaky.

  She was pregnant. That was the purpose of the mystery stop she and Tina had in the city. She’d gone to see Susanna to confirm what she was now telling him in her own strange way.

  That he had an heir on the way.

  Grinning foolishly, he continued to watch, wondering who was filming it for her. A stranger approached the two f
emales, speaking to them somberly. Their expressions went from joy to anguish in an instant. His pulse leapt in time with their fear.

  What the hell?

  They jumped up from the table and quickly followed the messenger off screen.

  Finally, a voice. One he’d never wanted to hear again.

  “Mr. Terriot, I hope you enjoyed that little intimate moment. If you want to experience any more of them, we need to talk.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Finally! Cale’s expression confirmed everything Brigit had already guessed.

  Her son was going to have another playmate! Another generation to grow up together, loving each other, protecting each other, surrounded by only good things, this time.

  That hoped died as a change came over Cale like massing thunderheads across the sun. In an instant, he went from ebullient expectant father to wrathful Terriot king, his eyes narrowing to glittering slits, his features sharp as fractured rock, his posture charged with a dangerous energy as concentrated as the eye of a storm. The tone of his voice made her tremble. Flat, cold and filled with deadly promise.

  “You touch them, I will shred the meat from your bones and devour your insides while you’re still alive to feel every bite I take.”

  Brigit felt Silas rise to his feet beside her.

  Kendra and Tina. Nothing could awaken that Terriot beast within their new king except family.

  “Cale, what’s happened?” she demanded in an unsteady voice when his fierce attention left the phone. He closed his eyes briefly, a terrible spasm working his features before that searing stare fixed on them. He strode over, phone extended.

  “Where is this place?” A low, seething growl.

  She studied the open air courtyard, its dusky pink walls painted with mural landscapes arched as if they were windows looking out over plantations and city settings.

  “That’s the Old Coffeepot on St. Peter, in the Quarter. Cale, what—”

  But he turned away, striding to the doors opening into the dining area. One brisk two finger gesture brought his brothers out to crowd close around him where they stood silent, watching whatever played out on his phone, their expressions mirroring Cale’s from moments earlier, morphing from gladness to dismay to grim understanding.