by Danica Avet
Then he opened his mouth. “You shouldn’t let Nick touch you like that. He’s just trying to get you in bed.” He folded his arms over his chest. Kitty barely refrained from gaping at him, not that Monk seemed to notice. It seemed in fifteen years he’d turned into a preachy, self-righteous prig who thought it was his business what and who she did. “He’s been through nearly all the females in town. You’re fresh prey to him. It wouldn’t do your reputation any good to be seen with him.”
That motherfucker. Kitty had never thought she could actually become angrier than she’d been that day fifteen years ago, but Monk managed to push her to greater heights of emotional trauma without trying much. The bastard.
“Do you really think so?” she asked in a purposely unsure tone. Oh, he was going to wish he’d never opened this can of worms.
He nodded, looking superior and attractive and God, she hated him. “I’m sure he seems safe because he’s a friend of Ram’s, but he’s a womanizer.”
Kitty bit her bottom lip and wrinkled her forehead, playing this moment for all it was worth. Monk’s face twisted as though it broke his heart to tell her this. The hypocritical asshole. “You mean he might, I don’t know, say he loves me, use me for my body, and then tell people about it making me a social pariah?”
That’s when Monk’s eyes widened. She could see him trying to formulate a response, so she went in for the kill. “Maybe he’ll tell me he loves me and then promise a lifetime of happiness and when I believe him, he’ll turn on me.” She paused to tap a finger against her jaw in faux deep thought. “Although, you know I think I’ve used that move myself a few times. It’s amazing how effective it is, huh, Monk?” She smiled using all of her teeth. “Thanks for reminding me of it. I’ve wanted to yank that tiger’s tail for days. I hope Ram doesn’t mind when I use and abuse his poor friend, but somehow I don’t think Nick will complain.”
“Baby, I’ve been hoping that’s what you wanted ever since I saw your sweet ass,” Nick’s deep voice said from the entry behind her. Before she could expire of mortification, he spun her around and gave her the worst kiss she’d ever had and that included the one Matthew Parker had given her in kindergarten.
Knowing Monk watched, the scent of his anger rising around them, Kitty latched on to Nick like the pleco fish one of her exes had in his aquarium, all suction and little joy. The kiss probably looked a lot worse than it was. Nick didn’t even attempt to slip her some tongue. Actually, now that she wasn’t looking at the reason for her heartbreak, Kitty realized Nick’s lips were pressed to the corner of her mouth, his hands in nonsexual places.
Tears burned the backs of her eyes as she realized he was saving her further humiliation. God bless his sweet, tattooed heart.
He pulled away, his golden eyes tender when he looked at her. “C’mon baby, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
Kitty knew her smile was wobbly at best, but she gave it to him anyway. “Sounds good to me, tiger.” She glanced over her shoulder at Monk, whose body practically seethed with strong emotion. “Thanks for your worry over my reputation. It’s a rare friend who cares.” She was going to throw up, but she snuggled into Nick’s side. “Let’s get out of here. It was…interesting seeing you again, Monk.”
Allowing Nick to lead her out of the hallway where the air had grown suffocating and thick, Kitty willed away the hurt.
I think that went well. At least I didn’t kill him. But God, she needed a drink, maybe a few hundred if she was going to wipe the memory of this encounter from her brain.
* * * * *
“You’re a dumbass.”
Monk barely paid attention to Ram’s astute observation, too busy staring at the doorway where Kitty disappeared with the tiger.
You mean he might, I don’t know, use me for my body and then tell people about it making me a social pariah?
The “like you did” went unsaid, but it’d been a direct hit regardless. He hadn’t meant to say anything about the tiger. He’d wanted to apologize for hurting her, but the minute she turned on him, her bear bristling with hostility, his brain tripped up and all he could do was spout that bullshit about Nick, his possessiveness roaring to the forefront and obliterating all common sense. It was a hard admission for him to make, but this Kitty Chambers, the woman she’d become, made him feel like a complete idiot.
A sentiment Ram obviously shared. The lion came to stand next to him, disgust twisting his face. “You seriously tried to warn her away from Nick? Are you trying to push her into bed with him?”
The garbled snarl that escaped his throat came out a cross between “no” and “I’ll kill him”. Neither of which impressed Ram. Monk sucked in a deep breath to calm his cat, who wanted to chase after his mate and the fucking tiger. “Spying on me, lion?” he asked instead of punching the most convenient warm body.
Ram let out a disgusted sigh. “No, Daisy told me she saw you drag Kitty down the hall, then I saw Nick coming this way and figured I’d better make sure there was no bloodshed. These Lebeau woman get ornery around cats, it seems.” He turned to Monk. “What the fuck was up with that holier-than-thou speech anyway? You know how oppositional-defiant Daisy and her kin are.”
His throat made a clicking sound as he swallowed. Yeah, he knew how much the Lebeau women hated being told what to do, although Kitty had never before displayed that stubbornness. It was practically part of their genetic makeup handed down from Fleur Lebeau, the bear-shifting lady of the night who’d come to Louisiana from France to be a bride. She’d pretty much flipped off the King of France and in outright defiance opened a brothel. He’d always admired Daisy Lynn’s strength of will knowing she was an almost direct throwback to her ancestor who’d defied a king, but preferred Kitty’s soft sweetness. Now it looked as though his mate had discovered that previously untouched part of her heritage.
And it turned him on. God, did it. His mating mark had flared to life the instant he touched her arm. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t touching skin, he could feel the heat of her body through the thin material of her jacket and it made his cougar yowl in excitement. His ears buzzed, his cock throbbed and his brain went on hiatus and apparently he said stupid shit designed to remind her of what he’d done to her.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I saw her and…” His voice trailed off before he admitted, “I went all reverend caveman on her. Fuck.”
“Dipshit,” Ram said in total agreement. “She’s going to be hard to pin down after this.”
He knew. And it wouldn’t help that he’d practically thrown her to the tigers. His cougar snarled in rage. Yeah, yeah, join the club. I’d love to kick my ass too. “I’ll figure something out.”
Ram snorted and started walking way. “You’d better because if you piss Daisy off I won’t stop her from kicking your ass this time.”
The double doors slammed closed behind the asshole lion, leaving Monk alone in the hallway. God, he’d fucked up so bad. He scrubbed a hand over his face. For the last two months, ever since Daisy Lynn made him see sense about how he’d wronged Kitty by not trusting her to take care of any kids they’d have, all he could think about was how to win her back. The tainted blood his mother had passed down to him wouldn’t have mattered to the old Kitty. She would have loved him anyway, would have taken every precaution to make sure their children were safe, so he wouldn’t try to kill them the way his mother had tried to kill him. But he’d arrogantly thought Kitty too sweet and gentle to handle the troubles he brought with him.
Not for the first time, Monk damned his bloodlines. As he stormed from the gym, taking the back way out of the building to avoid running into anyone, he thought about everything he’d learned about his fucked-up family. His mother had been locked up in an asylum after trying to kill him, his father telling everyone in town that she’d died of cancer to avoid scandal. Walter, his dad, had been the last of his line and his mother, Carla, had been th
e center of his world until he’d discovered her trying to kill his son.
Monk stumbled into the cool night air and breathed deep. Walter had told him Carla claimed her mother tried to kill her as well when she was young. Monk had no reason not to believe it, not when it had pained his father to admit he’d made a mistake in marrying Carla. He’d never come out and said he regretted Monk being his kid, but Monk had read between the lines. He was the last of Carla’s line and it was a line that needed to die with him. At least, that’s what he’d thought fifteen years before.
It was a case of too little too late. After he’d dropped Kitty off at home that fateful night, he’d gone to his house to tell his dad his plans to marry Kitty since he’d just marked her. Oh the plans he’d had. They would graduate, he’d go to work offshore if he had to, but he’d marry his girl and start a family. That was all he could think about, his teenaged single-mindedness almost causing him to attack his father when the truth came out.
Yeah, things had not gone well that night. He and his father had fought. Not verbally, but physically. Monk taking his pain and anger out on the man who’d lied to him his whole life, the man who made it impossible for Monk to have Kitty. He’d roamed the woods after the fight and found himself behind Kitty’s house. He watched the light go off in her bedroom, eyes burning with unshed tears. It’d been the longest night of his life, but when he went to school the next morning, it was with a plan to make her hate him.
Monk grunted as he climbed in his car and closed the door. The Mustang was a relic from his days in high school, one he couldn’t force himself to get rid of because it was where he and Kitty had spent so much time. Talk about fucking torture. Her scent had faded long ago, but those first few days after the breakup, he’d sit in his car and just breathe her in.
He rested his head on the steering wheel, his shoulders bowed under the pressure of wanting to find her right now and explain himself. He couldn’t though. She’d been seriously pissed off. With the way his luck was going tonight, he’d stare at her blankly and blurt something inappropriate. Again. Then she’d kill him. He didn’t doubt for a minute that Kitty’s bear wanted to lob him off at the knees and he wouldn’t even blame her for it.
But there was still tomorrow. Sucking in another deep, steadying breath, Monk sat up and stared through the windshield at the parking lot as it emptied of cars. Kitty was staying in town until at least Daisy’s wedding, which was a little over a month away. As long as she didn’t do another disappearing act, he’d catch up with her and next time he wouldn’t act like an ass.
He hoped.
Chapter Four
Two weeks later…
Monk glared at the flowers sitting on his desk. For two weeks his sly mate had eluded him. He had no idea how she knew when he was visiting Daisy Lynn and Ram because he never announced his intentions to go to Red House, but he’d always arrive right on the heels of her leaving. Her scent would linger in the air, taunting him and driving him fucking insane. He’d tried sending her flowers and the next day the flowers would be sitting on his office desk, the note still attached with no signs of being opened. His office was starting to look like a Goddamn funeral parlor and Monk had finally reached the end of his rope.
Shoving to his feet, he glared at the vase of roses as though they morally offended him. He was going to corner the bear in her den, or in this case, her parents’ house. He knew she was there. Everyone else in Maison Rouge seemed to have seen her or talked to his Kitty at some point in the past two weeks except for him. She’d stopped to visit Mrs. Haydel, had tea with Monica Doucet and her group of friends, helped a couple of the teenage girls pick out dresses for prom, and had even gone out drinking with Daisy Lynn and the boys from Saber at The Goose. But Monk had seen neither hide nor hair of her since the night of the assembly.
“Ginny!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.
His assistant, a human and a damn good asset to the Festival Committee, appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide. “Yes, Mr. Badeaux?” she asked in a timid voice.
He bit back a groan. “God, Ginny, we’ve been working together for five years. Couldn’t you call me Monk?” Even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. She’d go right back to calling him Mr. Badeaux in an hour, making him feel as though he should be using a walker.
Her fingers twisted together. “Yes, M-Monk,” she squeaked. She cleared her throat. “Was that all you needed, sir?”
He sighed. “No. Have someone bring these flowers to the Senior Citizen’s Center. I’m sure some of the ladies there would like them.” He pushed to his feet. “I’m leaving for a few hours, hold all of my calls. If anything urgent comes through, send me a text.”
Ginny nibbled on her lip as she watched him shut down his computer and gather his things. “What do you want to do with the uh, cards?”
“Burn them.” Because what he had to say to his woman couldn’t be said on a piece of paper anyway. “I’ll be back later.” He slammed out of the office, the scent of flowers clinging to him as he strolled to his car.
“Monk,” Sheriff Thomas Picou called out, “comment ça va?”
Stifling another groan, Monk turned to face his mate’s uncle. “Hey, Thomas, ça va bien, et tu?”
“Comme ci, comme ça,” he said with a waggle of his hand to the left and the right in a universal “so-so” gesture. “Daisy’s wedding is making me crazy.” He shook his head. “I never did see so many women get worked up for a three-hour event. Claudette’s got magazines all over the house and I can’t move a single one of them without her raising hell.”
Despite his rush to corner Kitty, Monk couldn’t help but grin. “It’s a big day for the bride and the mother of the bride.”
The bobcat shifter scratched the side of his nose. “Mais,yeah, I know that, but Kitty’s been actin’ strange too, like this wedding dress she’s makin’ is life or death.” He made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Pauvre bête barely sleeps and you should see what she’s been wearin’ around the house! Pants with the holes in them all over the place. She told me they’re designer, but the last time I saw pants like that I was throwin’ them away.”
Monk’s cougar had perked up at the mention of Kitty, but it didn’t like what it heard. “She’s staying over at your place?” he asked in a casual tone he hoped Thomas wouldn’t question.
The sheriff nodded, his gaze flickering beyond Monk’s shoulder. “Yeah, she was driving Francine crazy with her late hours. Claudette doesn’t mind so much because she’s used to me doing shift work, besides, it gives her a chance to harass Kitty about the dress when she wants to. We would’ve put her up at the rental, but those musicians are stayin’ there until the wedding since they don’t want to intrude on Daisy’s and Ram’s privacy.” He narrowed his eyes on something over Monk’s shoulder and cursed. “I have to go. I see Martha Bourdier in the front window of the Dollar House, stuffin’ somethin’ in her underwear.” He started away, his short legs carrying him across the street faster than one would expect.
Monk watched him go, puzzling over everything he’d said. Kitty wasn’t staying at home and he doubted it had anything to do with her hours. No, she’d gone to her aunt’s house because it was close to Nick. It had to be. He’d heard over and over what an attractive couple they made until he wanted to slash throats with his claws. His worry that he might have pushed Kitty right into the tiger’s arms dyed his vision red and made his cougar hiss with anger.
Cursing himself lower than a flea-bitten dog, Monk hopped in his car and tore off down the street in the direction of the Picous’ house. He’d been there enough times throughout his friendship with Daisy Lynn to be comfortable going over without calling ahead. Besides, if he called ahead, Kitty would know and might try to duck out on him. Again.
I’ve got you now, baby, and this time I’m not leaving until we talk.
* * * * *
“I’m sorry, cher, but she’s busy,” Claudette said when Monk knocked on her door. She stood in front of
him with a harried expression. “I poked my head in the door to tell her I was leaving for work and she snarled at me. At me! Her own aunt.” The black bear shifter sniffed and stepped outside, forcing Monk to back up to give her room. “I’m sure she’ll have more time to visit with everyone as soon as she starts sewing the underdress.”
Monk had no idea what she was talking about. “When will that happen?” he asked as he walked Daisy Lynn’s mom to her truck.
Claudette waved her hand. “I don’t know. She’s got me so crazy. She barely let me see the design she came up with saying it needed tweaking. I don’t know if Daisy has even seen it.” She threw her purse and another bag onto the truck’s bench and turned back to him. “Kitty is completely unreasonable about this, but Daisy tells me she’s an artist and she needs her space. Well, how am I supposed to know what to wear to the wedding if I don’t know what the gown looks like?”
“I’m sure she doesn’t mean anything by it, Ms. Claudette,” Monk soothed. He even patted her shoulder. “I’m sure Kitty knows what she’s doing. I mean, she’s a professional, right?”
* * * * *
“Goddammit,” Kitty muttered under her breath and bit the tip of her tongue to get it Just. Right. It didn’t help. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m not giving up until I get this.”
“Kitty Marie Chambers, I’m shocked.”
The unexpected sound of Monk’s voice jolted Kitty out of her fascination with Angry Birds. Almost jumping out of her skin, she looked up to see Monk poking his head through the open window, grinning at her. It was a sight reminiscent of the times he’d done the same thing at her parents’ house. He’d climb the tree next to her window, sit on the porch roof and talk with her for hours. And that was before they started dating.