by Julie Kenner
She blinked, confusion washing over her face. “But this is still your family.”
“But they’re not my ancestors. My ancestors are—” He cut himself off. He couldn’t simply blurt out the truth. “I don’t know anything about them.”
“You know they exist.”
He nodded. “Ever the pragmatist. Yes,” he confirmed. “I know they exist. I even know that I have a sibling. A twin brother.” He’d often wondered about his brother. Was there someone else out there who shared his curse? An ally he’d never met? Or had his twin escaped the pull of genetics, leaving Luc to bear the burden of their heritage?
Most likely, he’d never know. “He was adopted first. I assume he lives somewhere in the States, though I suppose he may have moved back to our homeland.”
“Where’s that?”
“South America. My mother and father were from there.”
She nodded, apparently satisfied, then moved across the room, her fingers twined with his. “I think you put too much stock on blood ties. Your parents adopted you. They loved you, cherished you and took care of you.” A tiny smile touched her lips. “I think that you can claim their ancestors as your own.”
So sweet. He brushed the side of his hand across her cheek. “You’re a good woman, Caitlyn Raine.”
Her eyes darkened and she shook her head. “You don’t really know me.”
“I know enough,” he said. “I know you’re a cop. Cops help people.”
She lifted one shoulder, but didn’t meet his eyes.
He stepped closer, compelled to stroke her hair, wanting simply to comfort her.
We’ll find a cure, Luc. His mother’s voice rang in his head, and he saw her there in his mind, holding fast to his father’s hand. We’ll find a cure and you, my darling baby boy, I promise you will find someone to love.
He wanted to cry out, a low moan of pain and longing, a cry to the mother he’d lost and the life he’d always wanted but had never been allowed to have.
Instead he held tight to Cate, to the promise and hope she represented. He knew her, fully and completely, and yet in so many ways, he didn’t know her at all.
Even so, she was his. His life, his mate. And, he hoped, the love his mother had promised.
“Luc?” Her voice was soft, muffled by the pressure of her mouth against his chest.
He stepped back, rubbing his temples as he shook his head just slightly, hoping he looked normal but certain that every ounce of pain was reflected on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to overwhelm you.” He took his hand, pressed it to his heart. “But you overwhelm me, Cate. You fill me. You’re everything to me, and the knowledge that you are here with me, now, in this house, is—” He broke off, once again skirting dangerous territory. “Well, let’s just say that I’m very, very glad that you’re here.”
He could tell that his words pleased her, but almost immediately she tamped down her reaction, a tiny self-deprecating smile playing on her lips. “I…I don’t really understand what’s happening between us. But you should know that I’m not the woman you think I am. I’m not remarkable. I’m not even very good.”
He moved closer, edging against her, breathing deep of her glorious scent. He bent, lifting her hair to press a kiss behind her ear. “I think you’re very, very good.”
She didn’t answer in words, but the tremor that passed through her body spoke volumes. He wanted her then. Wanted to cherish her, to seduce her. To start on her toes and kiss all the way up to those beautiful lips. This wasn’t about need; he had not even a hint that the change was upon him. He simply desired this woman, this mate that destiny had brought to him.
He had told her they would come here to talk, and though they’d spoken of their lives, he had yet to tell her the truth about them—about him. He had planned to, yes, but now his resolve faded. He was the beast she hunted, the beast by whom she felt betrayed. He would have to tell her sometime—he knew that. But not now. Not yet.
First, he wanted to court her, to date her, to win her heart as men had done with women through the ages.
He wanted to be a man with her, not a beast.
He wanted to love her.
And he wanted her to love him. Because only if she loved him would she be able to find it in her heart to forgive him.
His arms encircled her waist and he drew her close to him. He tilted her head back and her eyes, wide and full of desire, looked up at him. Her lips parted, and he didn’t wait to discover if she was about to demand that he stop or beg him to continue. He took her mouth with his, his tongue demanding entrance with a force born of purely sexual need. A man’s desire flooded his veins—pure human, pure lust—and the only thing feral was the wild demand that fed him, thousands of years of mating instincts driving his need to take this woman, to make her his own, once and for all.
She melted under his touch, her willing acquiescence to his demands arousing his passion even more. He didn’t wait—he couldn’t—but instead urged her toward the parlor doors, his fingers fumbling for the button of her jeans. He had to have her; he couldn’t wait. And she was as desperate as he.
They tumbled to the floor, rolling over an antique Turkish rug until he was straddling her. She wriggled her hips and he jerked her jeans down, taking both the denim and the soft satin of her panties.
She lay before him, exposed and glistening, and her lips formed just one word. “Now.”
He didn’t hesitate. He was too hard, too ready, and he clambered out of his own clothes, then spread her legs, his cock teasing her slick folds. He played with her, just a little, but he couldn’t stand the strain. And he thrust inside her as she begged for him to take her.
His climax was fast and sure, and Luc exploded inside her. He rolled over, taking her with him, his lips seeking hers. And as he kissed her, soft and sweet, a new reality settled around him. His cursed bloodline bound him to Cate, it was true. But also, Luc knew, he was bound to her by the ties of love.
BY LATE AFTERNOON, Cate realized that she didn’t know herself as well as she thought. She’d always believed she was tough. Certainly not one of those women who bought into the whole Cinderella fantasy.
But she was buying into it now, and the more Luc treated her like a princess, the more she found herself enjoying the role.
They’d spent the afternoon in Luc’s castle, because there really was no other way to describe the stunning mansion or the flower-filled gardens. Cate knew nothing about either fine furniture or fantastic horticulture, but she knew enough to recognize the effects of both care and money. And the Agassou estate reflected both. They’d walked slowly through his backyard, her hand tucked inside his, the broad branches of the magnolia trees sheltering them. Fabulous purple flowers spilled out of oversized stone pots lining the walkway, and he’d plucked one, then made a show of tucking it behind her ear before brushing a soft kiss on her cheek.
It had been silly and sentimental and she’d fallen for it utterly.
Because it was New Orleans, the heat was close to unbearable and they now sat at a small metal table tucked into a fragrant corner of a shady arbor. Martin, Luc’s charming butler, had brought them tall, cool glasses filled with mint juleps. The whole afternoon had been thoroughly decadent and Cate had enjoyed every minute of it.
She licked her lips. She hated herself for doing it, but she couldn’t help second-guessing something that seemed too good to be true.
“Luc?”
He’d been telling her about the history of the house, but she’d tuned him out, simply content to hold his hand and lose herself in her own thoughts. Now he stopped talking, a question in his eyes, but no accusation. Even so, she was certain he knew that her mind had wandered. He squeezed her fingers, the intimate gesture his only response.
“I—I don’t understand this.”
A grin danced at the corner of his mouth. “It’s quite simple. My father brought in two tons of dirt and raised the backyard. That let him—”
Sh
e whacked him on the knee, but couldn’t stifle the laugh that bubbled out. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“I know.” This time his voice held no tease, and when he squeezed her fingers, the touch was purely sensual. Her body fired in immediate response and she pressed her legs together, unwilling to let a visceral reaction to this man control every waking moment.
“I don’t understand what’s happening between us,” she elaborated.
He regarded her quietly for a moment, then traced the line of her jaw with his fingertip before curling a strand of her hair around his forefinger. “Must you understand everything?”
“It’s my nature.”
“And we must all behave in accordance with our nature.”
It was a statement, not a question, and so she didn’t respond, simply sat, her eyes focused on his face, as she waited for him to continue. Somehow, she knew that he would.
“I won’t say that I love you, Cate, because that might scare you away.”
She swallowed, not nearly as frightened by his words as she imagined she should be.
“But I will say that we are connected, you and I.”
“But that’s exactly it.” She leaned forward, happy to grasp onto something other than love. Right then, it was a word she feared, a word that hit just a little too close. “Why are we connected?”
He grinned, a sudden mischievous look. “Perhaps if I found the connection unpleasant I would seek out a reason. But since I have no complaints, I’m content to accept the inevitable.”
“The inevitable?”
“You,” he said simply.
She swallowed, the implications hitting her. Luc was inevitable. For reasons she didn’t understand, this man was tied to her future. And damned if she didn’t want him there.
But as much as he filled her soul, violent images still filled her head. Even though she’d sent the bottle to Bonnie, the dreams hadn’t stopped. Darkly erotic dreams. There’d been no more nightmares—thank God—and no more maulings to investigate, either. But the cat was still loose, and she knew she couldn’t rest until it was found…and the dreams faded into nothingness.
“Cate?”
Those copper eyes were focused intently on her, and she feared that he had managed to read her thoughts. She swallowed, shaking her head. “Sorry. Just thinking.”
“The maulings.”
“You’re very perceptive.”
His fingers brushed the bare skin on her arm and once again she fought the urge to tremble. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I only understand you.”
He gathered her into his arms, and she clung to him. “Perhaps there won’t be any more attacks.”
He spoke with an intense conviction, and she wanted to kiss him simply for trying to make her feel better. As it was, his strong assurance was contagious, and she nodded, almost against her will. “I wish I could believe that, but—”
“Believe it.”
She met his eyes, found them clear and determined. “Why?”
“Because you have no reason not to. There’s been no attack for several days. It’s your day off, right?”
She nodded. “It’s ridiculous. I’ve got a huge caseload, and the bureaucrats are making me take two stinking weeks.” She hadn’t wanted to take them, but the department bean crunchers had finally insisted that Cate, and a few other detectives who’d been squirreling away vacation time, needed to use it. Cate had ignored the memo from brass for three months. But when her captain had finally put his foot down, she’d had no room to argue.
“Then enjoy those days.”
“I want to,” she said. And she did. She really did.
“Good.” He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her lips that, while not decadent in itself, offered so much. “Because I intend to make sure you enjoy yourself. And I thought we’d start with a late-afternoon siesta…”
CATE DIDN’T ACTUALLY GET to rest during their siesta, but as she stretched naked on the satin sheets after an hour-long bout of lovemaking, she definitely felt sated and relaxed. Across the room, Luc was pulling on slacks in front of the closet, and she was watching him, thoroughly enjoying the view and thinking one very disturbing thought—she could get used to this.
A tiny buried part of her dared to hope that the voice in her head was wrong. That she could have the whole dream. A husband. Children. A family that loved her.
No, no, no. She needed to get that thought out of her head. No matter what this thing was that seemed to be filling the air between them, the bottom line remained the same, and the familiar refrain reverberated through her head. Not for you. Never for a girl like you.
“Something wrong?” Luc stood, looking utterly sexy as he buttoned his starched white shirt. Such a short time and already he knew her too well. A blossom of hope dared to bloom, but Cate ignored it, tucking it instead into the darkest corner of her heart.
She shook her head, the lie as natural as breathing. “Just enjoying the view.”
“I’m glad you think it’s worth watching.”
She shrugged. “It’s an empirical fact. Can’t have you thinking I’m an idiot.”
He let his eyes roam over her, and her body tingled in response, the sensation starting at her toes and drifting all the way up to the top of her head until her entire body felt warm and malleable and it was all she could do to keep herself from begging for his touch.
With his eyes lingering on her, he smiled. “I can’t believe these words are coming from my lips, but you really should get dressed. I have plans for you this evening.”
“It’s only five.”
As his smile broadened, so did the heat in her belly. “I have plans for a very, very long evening.”
“Oh.” She licked her lips. Discomfort warring with an intense desire to wrap herself up in this man. A lifetime of putting up walls won out, though, and she licked her lips, at the same time eased the sheet over her bare thigh. “Listen, Luc, today has been, well, it’s been great. But I really do need to get going.”
“Why?”
The question startled her, though she certainly should have expected it. “Well, I might be off from work, but I have tons of paperwork to catch up and evidence to review for all of my cases.”
He nodded, his copper eyes intense as he sat on the bed again. “You’ve already admitted there’s something happening between us. I thought we’d agreed to explore that.”
“I…” She trailed off, then shrugged. How could she explain to him that she was fine with the sexual tug between them? If that’s all it was, she’d stay in his bed forever. Sex she could deal with. But this was more. The way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the way he talked with her—as if she were special, as if they could have a future…she didn’t have the tools to deal with that. All she knew how to do was run.
“I’m not proposing marriage, Cate,” he said, once again sitting next to her. He took a strand of hair and curled it around his finger, then flashed a devilish grin. “At least not yet. Just a dinner that you won’t run from.” He stroked her cheek, his hand caressing her face, then tracing her lips. “And maybe a bit of after-dinner entertainment.”
Her buttons. He knew every single one of them. How to manipulate her, how to say exactly the right thing. That reality both frightened and comforted her, and her head screamed that she should run far and fast from this man. That he could get past her defenses, leaving her bare and vulnerable.
She stayed anyway. And she had to wonder if she was being supremely stupid or if, God help her, she was falling in love.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY HAD DINNER AT Commander’s Palace and then went dancing at Tipitina’s. An elegant dinner followed by the crush of bodies, sweat, and the pulse of music and lust in her veins. They pressed together on the dance floor, moving to a rhythm that the band couldn’t hear but that seemed to beat through both of them.
They took a taxi back to his house, and had she been doing her job, she should have cited them both for indece
nt exposure. In truth, she didn’t think the driver saw anything, but it had taken every ounce of self-control in Cate’s body not to scream in pleasure as Luc made her come, his fingers buried in her slippery folds.
They’d left her panties on the floorboard of the cab. Just a tiny souvenir.
Inside, they’d made a beeline for the bedroom, barely managing to stay somewhat clothed before the door shut behind them, exercising that tiny amount of propriety in case Luc’s butler Martin happened to be about.
All night, Luc’s presence had been taunting her. His scent, the subtle touch of his hand. When he’d finally touched her in the taxi, she’d come right away.
Now, she had no patience to wait.
She reached for his belt, her fingers fumbling as she unfastened the thing, letting it hang open as she moved on to the button. His hands were just as busy, inching her skirt up around her waist, cupping her right there as she clenched her thighs together, allowing no chance to lose his touch.
He stroked her, a single finger sliding along her slippery folds. And when her legs simply couldn’t hold her upright anymore, she fell backwards onto the bed.
He kicked off his shoes and stripped off his jeans, then climbed onto the bed to straddle her. Her skirt was around her waist, her blouse unbuttoned, and she lay there exposed and needy. He watched her, one hand cupping her breast. “You’re beautiful,” he said.
“Tell me later.” She had to force the words out, past a wall of need. “Right now, I want you inside me.”
His face changed with her words, his expression turning possessive. Good. She wanted him to have her, to take her, and dammit, if he didn’t do it right then, she thought that she would scream.
When he thrust inside her, she almost did.
He consumed her, filled her, and when he pounded inside her, she was certain she was going to rip apart. She matched him, thrust for thrust, her hips bucking. They were wild, desperate for each other, as if by this frantic lovemaking they could discover the source of their connection. As if, by the melding of flesh, they could become one.