by J. N. Colon
“Here you go, cher.” He pushed a glass of gold liquid toward me.
I downed the entire thing, my throat burning.
Etie’s head tilted back, his brows arched. “Okay, then. I’ll just bring the bottle over.”
“You do that,” I croaked, breathing fire through my mouth.
He returned, pouring more into my glass and some into his. He scooted his chair closer until our knees bumped. “You okay?”
I swirled the glass, the dim overhead lights glittering on the liquid. “Define okay.”
“We still got time, Angeline.” He leaned closer, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I know plenty of people who can help. I’ll talk to them. I’ll find someone.”
I bit my lip against the words bubbling on my tongue. Etie was powerful enough on his own, but I wouldn’t press him to do what he hated. Not even if I lost my soul to the voodoo king. His father had forced him enough. I wouldn’t aid in the unbalance of light and dark in him more than I already had.
“What is it?” he asked. “What’s on the tip of that tongue you don’t want to say?”
My stomach swirled at the way he said tongue. It made me think bad things.
Before I could open my mouth, Bastien strolled in from the back of the house. His hard chest and ripped abs were visible through his unbuttoned shirt.
Damn. These two boys were nothing but sin.
A crooked grin curled his lips. “See something you like, Angel?”
Etie threw a piece of hard candy at his brother.
Bastien snatched it out of the air with catlike reflexes. “Lemon. My favorite.” He unwrapped it and tossed it in his mouth. “Don’t worry, little brother. I know Angel is off-limits.” Bastien’s fingers mussed up Etie’s hair as he passed by.
Etie smacked his hand away, shooting him a half-hearted glare.
The brothers had made up after their fight. Maybe Bastien understood why Etie wanted to use the bokal to take his powers. Or maybe he didn’t think Etie would go through with it.
Another figure followed Bastien, his bright pink shirt blinding me. “Hey, baby doll. Fancy seeing you here.” Antoine sauntered over, his hips swaying dramatically. He and Marisol should have a contest.
My eyes shifted between him and Bastien, a brow arching. “What are you doing here?”
Antoine laughed. “Nothing as fun as what you’re thinking.” He waved a hand toward Bastien. “That boy is straighter than a toothpick.” His lips puckered like he ate something sour. “It’s a shame, too.”
“You know what they say about toothpicks,” I said, shooting Antoine a conspiratorial look.
“What’s that, sugar?” His deep brown eyes glittered with humor.
My finger traced the rim of my glass. “They’re easily broken.”
Antoine clapped and threw his head back, laughing. “Yes, they can.”
Bastien grinned and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from Etie, pouring a glass. “Come on, Anty. I already told you the moment I switch sides, you’ll be the first to know. I’ll make an honest man out of you.”
“Umm-hmm. I’ll hold you to that, voodoo child.” Antoine wiggled his fingers for Bastien’s drink. “Me first.”
He passed it over and sauntered to the cabinet for another glass.
“What are you doing here for real?” I asked him.
“I’m Bastien’s assistant.” He leaned over and winked. “I help with the voodoo.” A soft knock sounded at the door, and Antoine perked up. “Our customer has arrived.”
Etie shook his head. “Bastien,” he mumbled under his breath. “I told you to meet them out back.”
The corner of his lips twitched. “You know this one thinks she deserves special treatment.”
So the boys did cast spells for the townsfolk in Carrefour. If only Ms. Unrue were here to see this confirmed. Of course, she could be on the other side of the door for all I knew.
I leaned toward Etie. “This is just Bastien’s thing?”
“I prefer to avoid it, but sometimes…” He shrugged. “Bastien needs my help with little things.”
The two of us had a complex with our older siblings. We would sacrifice anything for them.
Bastien answered the door, and a woman dressed in black skinny jeans, boots, and a black shirt sashayed in. “Hello, Bast—” Her words halted when she caught sight of me, her face paling.
My eyes nearly popped out of my sockets. I hadn’t expected Ms. Beauchamp of all people to be wandering around in the swamp.
She laid her hand on her chest. “Why, Angel, I…um, didn’t expect to see you here.”
Obviously.
Her gaze shifted between Etie and me, noticing our close proximity. Her lips hitched up in a condescending smile. “I guess some of what Ms. Unrue is saying is true.”
Apparently, my name was going around the rumor mill again.
I lifted my cup, toasting the widow. “I wonder what she’ll be saying about you soon.”
She blinked innocently. “My car broke down, and I knew the Benoits live here. I was just looking for some help.” A fake, saccharine laugh tumbled out.
Bastien’s long fingers curled around her arm as he showered her with a sultry smile. “Come on, cher. We’re going out back. I’ll fix you right up.” He was laying the accent on thick.
Antoine shook his head as Bastien led the widow outside. “That one could charm a statue to life.”
I snorted.
Antoine pointed at Etie. “He’s much worse.”
I stopped laughing as my cheeks heated. He was right.
“Tata, you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” Antoine winked as he walked out the door, shutting it behind him.
We were alone again.
Etie’s mismatched eyes lingered over me, smoldering in his unreadable face. A flush traveled the length of my skin, sinking deep into my bones. How could someone make me feel so out of control with just a look? A hot, scorching look nonetheless.
Only Étienne Benoit. He was a mystery wrapped in a confusing conundrum. One moment he was cold and prickly, the next he was rakish. A fierce warrior would emerge and give way to the one currently regarding me with a heavy stare. This one oozed sexual energy. Raw and primal.
A shiver rippled down my spine that had nothing to do with the terrifying events earlier.
Nope. This was all Etie.
Without a word, he reached under my chair and yanked me closer, so close I saw tiny glowing embers in his eyes. His spicy herbal scent flooded my senses. It was intoxicating. And tempting.
I licked my lips, biting the bottom one to stifle a sigh. His gaze dipped, tracing the curve of my mouth. His thumb brushed over my lip, pulling it from between my teeth.
“You have a habit of biting your lip, cher.” His voice was deep and throaty. Warm, candy-scented breath caressed my face. “It makes me want to see what the fuss is, try a bite for myself. I’d like to know if it tastes as good as it looks.”
The Cajun Casanova was on point tonight.
My entire body ignited in flames while heat pooled low in my belly. I made a sound, something like a moan of desperation. I should have been embarrassed, but the way Etie was looking at me had pushed that emotion to the far recesses of my mind. Lust descended over me, his entire kitchen in a pink, rosy hue.
“Mmm, Angeline,” he whispered. “I like that sound. Can you do it for me again?”
Air caught in my lungs, and I squirmed, my skin on fire and needing the only thing that would soothe it—or burn me alive.
“Make me.”
His eyes flared with hunger, the irises glowing as if magic encircled us. Maybe it was. “Gladly, cher.” Etie leaned forward, his lips dusting over mine.
The faintest hint of cherries swirled in my mouth when light footsteps echoed.
Etie glanced over my head, his brows slamming together. “What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to treat a lady?”
That sweet, sugary voice had my head spi
nning around so fast whiplash wasn’t out of the question. Trisha Belmont was leaning against the doorjamb in Etie’s kitchen, her blue eyes eating him up.
“I’ve been waiting on you all night, Etie.” Her fingers slowly ran over her collarbone. “Where’ve you been?”
My stomach churned at the underlying meaning in her words, and I shifted away from Etie. The lust quickly cooled to subzero temperatures. Had she been in his room, waiting on him? Was this a routine occasion? Were they friends with benefits?
The thought of them together doing anything had my upchuck reflexes working overtime.
Etie sat back in his chair. A shadow crossed his eyes, darkening them. “Trisha, how did you get in my house?”
Okay, so maybe he hadn’t invited her…this time.
She slinked over, ignoring my presence altogether. “Bastien let me in,” she drawled, her red fingernails skimming his shoulder.
He grumbled and shrugged away from her touch. “He shouldn’t have done that,” he mumbled.
Did Bastien forget he let some skank into his brother’s room? Was he that ADD?
Trisha’s hands dropped on his shoulders, her fingers massaging. “Where have you been all night, baby?” Her eyes flicked toward me, a malicious smile spreading her lips. “It’s not like you to keep me waiting.”
My veins burned with liquid fire, fire I wanted to unleash on her. She was trying to get under my skin. She was laying claim on Etie right in front of me.
Etie’s jaw ticked, and he removed her arms. “Trisha, I didn’t invite…” His head snapped back as he got a good look at her. “Is that my shirt?”
She smiled, smearing red lipstick on her teeth. “I didn’t think you’d mind.” She twisted the hem of the black button-down shirt around her finger, slowly lifting it to reveal a peek of flesh.
“Trisha, you should go,” he growled.
Was he pissed because she was here or because I discovered his dirty little secret?
I downed the rest of the drink and slammed it on the table. “I’ll walk home.” The room spun as I stood.
Really shouldn’t have drank so fast.
Etie shot out of his seat, his hands grabbing my shoulders to steady me. “No, Angeline. You can’t leave.”
“The hell I can’t,” I scoffed and motioned toward the blonde floozy. “It looks like your hands are full.”
He stepped closer, crowding my space. “I didn’t even know she was here. I didn’t invite her.”
I crossed my arms against my chest, putting a barrier between us. “You didn’t know she was here this time.”
His silence was answer enough.
Acid curdled my stomach, and a lump clogged my throat. If tears began to burn my eyes, I was going to die.
What reason did I have to be jealous of Etie and another girl? I had no right to him. None at all, and I wasn’t going to make a fool out of myself over him.
She could have him for all I cared.
I was such a liar.
“Nothing has been between us for a long time,” he said, his fingers twitching, unwilling to release me.
Trisha cleared her throat and leaned against the counter, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder. “I think it’s pretty clear the girl would like to go home to her mommy and daddy.”
Heat roped through my insides, choking off my better sense. I skewered her with my eyes, wishing I could shoot pure fire from them. “My dad’s dead.”
The toaster next to her suddenly sparked, a cloud of gray smoke drifting out.
She jumped back, a hand clutching her throat. “Oh my lord. Did that thing just explode?”
Etie’s gaze lingered on me, heavy with something I couldn’t decipher. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something, a question dancing on the edge of his tongue.
But he quickly shook his head and released my shoulders. He stalked toward the counter and yanked the plug out of the socket. “The toaster just shorted out,” he said. “Happens all the time.” Those eyes returned to me, a dark, unsettling shadow twisting through them.
Chapter 22
A boom of thunder startled me awake. Lightning flashed in my room, and fat drops of rain pelted the windows. Wind rattled the shudders.
I rolled over and grabbed the glass of water sitting on my bedside table, taking a gulp before settling back against the pillows. A shiver wracked my body, and I pulled the covers tighter around me, an unusual chill drifting through the air.
My gaze shifted to my cellphone, fingers itching to dial that number I had memorized.
Why did I think of Etie every time I was scared?
A groan slipped out as I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. The infuriating Cajun had been in a mood these last few days, ever since Trisha turned up at his house. He barely spoke more than two words to me.
Maybe he decided I wasn’t worth the trouble. Or maybe—like Bastien said—he was angry he couldn’t save me.
A cold prickle skipped down my neck. That was never a good sign.
Lightning streaked outside, chasing shadows to the edges of my room. A man-like figure was outlined in the quick flicker.
My sharp intake of air mixed with the boom of thunder.
I scrambled up, clutching the covers to my chest. “Who’s there?” My voice was barely audible over the thump of my own heart.
Another bolt of lightning slashed through the thick darkness. Something moved, stopping at the foot of my bed. The only explanation was that Baron Samedi decided to pay me a visit. Or his spirits.
Tremors rippled across my arm as I lunged for the lamp on my bedside table. A click resonated and dim light spilled in a small radius around me.
I couldn’t breathe.
Hell, I was afraid to blink in case I was hallucinating.
I didn’t want it to be a hallucination.
A man stood at the end of my bed. Dark glossy waves framed a face I’d recognize anywhere. It didn’t matter it had been over nine years since I’d seen him in person.
Alive.
A familiar smile curled his lips, a slight dimple forming in his chin.
“Daddy?” I whispered.
“Hola, little muñeca.”
My throat instantly closed. Tears burned my eyes, turning his image watery.
I shook my head. “How are you here?” Sure, I believed in ghosts, but I never expected to have a close encounter of the Casper kind with my father. Why was he here now after all this time?
“I just wanted to see you.” A light Spanish accent coated his words. He moved forward, chocolate eyes tracing my features as if he’d never seen me before.
Lightning tore apart my room; thunder shook the entire house. He wasn’t fazed by any of it. He didn’t even flinch.
He was dead. Why would he be scared of a little storm?
He towered over me, just as tall as he had been when I was a kid. His warm smile faded. “You’ve been making a lot of noise in the spirit world, Angel.”
“I have?”
He nodded. “You’re fighting what is inevitable. The baron will get your soul.”
Ice spilled through my veins. “You know about that?”
His hand found my foot beneath the covers and squeezed. It was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but all it did was rattle my insides. “You can’t break a deal with Baron Samedi. You may as well stop trying.”
I swallowed a growing lump back down. “You want me to just give myself up to the baron?”
“You made a deal, and now you must pay.” He patted my foot, and I resisted the urge to flinch at his unsettling touch. “You did the right thing by saving your sister. Be proud of that.”
Pinpricks of icy needles tattooed my flesh. Why was he saying this to me? Why didn’t he want me to be saved? “I want to live, too.”
His head tilted to the side, a wry smile curling his lips. “Come on, Angel. Let’s be honest. Your life isn’t really worth saving.”
His words were dull, hot blades stabbing through my chest. My eyes
traced over his features. He was everything I remembered of my father, right down to the freckle on his left cheek. Even his voice sounded the same.
But that smile he now wore. And those words. Cristóbal De la Mora would never be that cruel, dead or alive.
The blood froze in my limbs. I tried scooting back, but there was nowhere to go. My body was already crushed against the headboard. “Who are you?” I hated the trembling in my voice.
A sinister edge wrapped around his expression, one that never crossed my father’s face when he was alive. “What tipped you off?”
“Get out,” I hissed. “Whatever you are.”
His chuckle was dark and chilling. “Maybe I should try a different form.”
The air around him sizzled and churned. His body shimmered out of focus. A sulfuric scent stung my nostrils and burned my eyes. Lightning flashed, highlighting the glossy strands of wild, untamable rich brown hair that began to emerge.
Tan skin. Wide shoulders. Masculine features.
Another quick flicker of lightning glinted on a scar beneath a lush pair of lips and another on a sharp cheekbone.
Etie stared back at me where my father had been. A menacing glint reflected in those hypnotic eyes.
Oh my god. The horror of it had me frozen speechless.
“How’s this, Angeline?”
The accent was spot on.
His deep, sensual chuckle puckered my skin. The not-Etie ran a cold hand across my cheek. “I know you want me, Angeline,” he whispered. “You were wrapped around me in the lake, trembling and ready.”
Acid tore my throat apart and sloshed through my stomach. I was going to hurl any moment.
I slapped his hand away, finding it surprisingly solid. “You’re not Etie.”
An eerie edge sharpened his laugh. “But I could be. The real Etie doesn’t want you. He’s playing with you. He’s with Trisha right now.”
I wanted to call him a liar. I wanted to pretend his words didn’t sting.
They burned like salt on a wound.
A small part of me wondered if Etie really was simply toying with me. We’d had a few near kisses, and he could turn the charm on in an instant, but maybe I was just another girl. There was a reason every female in Carrefour secretly lusted after him and his brother.