“Would you help me learn? If you talk me through it and have patience . . .” She trailed off.
The hopeful note in her voice tugged at his heart. She was squirming again. The Han Vol Dan was so close and her leopard was definitely a very sexual passionate animal, just as his was. She wouldn’t give Bijou any relief, her heat driving her to mate.
He put a little pressure on her shoulders, silently commanding her to kneel. “I’m a very good teacher,” he told her hoarsely.
He was not going to last long, his passion rising to meet hers. He would have to be inside of her soon. The thrall was on both of them, not just Bijou, and he couldn’t stop himself from taking her again and again, no matter the cost to either of them.
Who could resist the sight of Bijou, her long hair falling around her soft skin, on her knees looking up at him with dark desire in her incredible eyes? He needed her mouth wrapped around his cock. He was already dripping in anticipation.
Her breasts rose and fell, her nipples harder than ever. She wanted this every bit as much as he did, and that had him nearly falling to his own knees. He nudged her knees a little farther apart with his foot, enjoying the reality of her rather than an image. Her body was open to his, needy like his, and she licked her lips again as if she couldn’t wait to taste him.
Already he could scent her call, that wild lavender honey wafting up from between her thighs to tease his senses and drive him insane with need all over again. She was leopard, she would take to every passionate, erotic lesson he gave her. He let her look her fill and then he caught her hair in his fist and urged her chin up. “Explore with your tongue. Get to know me. Every part of me. I belong to you, so take your time and enjoy yourself.”
He wasn’t altogether certain he could give her that time, but he found he needed this from her. Her hands touched him tentatively at first, stroking little caresses that made him want to growl. Then she touched with more confidence, testing his weight, his girth, holding his balls and rolling them gently. He threw back his head at the first stroke of her tongue. Featherlight. Velvet soft. He wasn’t going to survive this night.
He used the back of his hand to gently caress the sides of her face, encouraging her as she built up her courage. It was all he could do not to force himself to thrust his cock into her mouth. Fire burned over him when her tongue stroked and licked and then she sucked at his heavy sac. This wasn’t going to work, not when she was so sensuous and obviously into pleasing his every whim. He would never last.
“Blue, I need your mouth around me. Suck on me hard.” Now his voice was nearly gone, just a hard command that was more growl than voice.
Bijou licked up the shaft, swirled her tongue around the ridge and down under the head of his cock. His breath hissed out of him as she licked over the head and then pushed down, taking it into the heat of her mouth. The suction was tight and her tongue teased over his hard flesh. He forgot all about teaching her anything. There was no way he could allow her to explore much longer, not if he planned on being inside of her.
Her scent beckoned him, a wild call he couldn’t ignore, not even for the ecstasy of her mouth moving over him with such care. She was squirming, her hips undulating in desperation, yet she still did her best to please him.
He tugged at her hair, waiting until she looked up at him. Her eyes were nearly pure cat, glowing at him like two glittering jewels in the night.
“I need to be inside you, chere. Right now. There’s all the time in the world for you to pleasure me like this, but right now, I need something else.” He drew her up and pointed to the bed. “Kneel down there.”
Bijou did as he commanded without question. He knew exhaustion didn’t matter. Inhibitions didn’t count. She had no more choice than he did. All he could do was make their joining the most pleasurable and passionate he could.
In the end, as dawn crept in, and she finally fell into a fitful sleep, he had no real idea of how many times he had taken her, only that each time she had screamed in pleasure, her body riding his as he took them both to paradise again and again.
Remy looked down at Bijou sprawled across the bed, her skin marred with his fingermarks, and the teeth of his leopard. He’d marked her—claimed her in the manner of his people, a primitive ritual, but it served its purpose of warning off other males, and making certain the emerging female leopard accepted the male. Bijou Breaux was formally now and forever . . . his.
7
“YOU really pissed off someone,” Gage said, hands on his hips, as he surveyed the damage to his brother’s apartment.
Remy noted with an inner smile that his younger brother had positioned himself protectively just a little in front of Remy. He knew without a doubt, if there was trouble, he could shove his brother out of the way, but it would slow him down by a second or two. On the other hand, it was a good feeling to know his brother had those protective instincts—for him.
“I guess I did,” Remy admitted with some satisfaction. He looked around the small apartment he rented in New Orleans. His home would always be the bayou, but it wasn’t always convenient to make his way that distance every night, so he kept a place closer to the police station.
“He really tore up your apartment,” Gage said. “I don’ think there’s anythin’ left.”
“I don’ keep anythin’ of value here,” Remy replied and took a long, slow look around the sitting room of his apartment.
Everything was smashed. His end tables, his lamps. The television set that had been on the wall was shattered, leaving a huge hole in the Sheetrock. The couch and recliner cushions were slashed and the stuffing torn out.
“I’d say he was in a rage,” Gage said. He glanced at his brother. “What did you do?”
Remy shrugged. “I kissed a girl.”
“I hope she was worth it,” Gage said, and stepped back, closer to his brother in order to peer into the bedroom.
Remy knew the exact moment Gage inhaled and caught his scent. His head swung around, eyes wide with shock.
“What the hell have you done, Remy?” he asked, swinging around to fully face his brother. “You have Bijou’s scent all over you. There’s no mistakin’ . . .” He trailed off, suddenly catching that other much more elusive scent shadowing Bijou’s. He inhaled sharply. “She’s . . .”
Remy nodded. “Leopard. Mine.” He made that very clear. “This bastard has been stalkin’ her. He’s not going to get away with it.”
Gage held up his hand, shaking his head. “Wait a minute. I need a moment here. You claimed Bijou Breaux? The multimillionaire, born with a silver spoon in her mouth, daughter of a legend? Are you out of your mind?”
“I’ve been asked that more than once, and watch your mouth.” Remy shrugged lightly, but his hands closed into fists, the ache in his knuckles telling him his leopard was close.
“Get real, Remy. She’s slummin’, comin’ back to New Orleans. You think she’s a hometown girl? She’s never been one of us. She’s elegant and stylish and she’s restless as hell. She’s used to livin’ a lifestyle on red carpets with jet-setters and private jets. We don’ belong there and never have. She’s come here on a whim, putting her club together and her cutesy little apartment.” Gage laid a hand on his brother’s arm. “She’s goin’ to rip your heart apart. She’ll never stay.”
“Watch what you say, Gage. She’s my mate. No one’s goin’ to take her away from me. And I’m not goin’ to let anyone, including my brother, make her life miserable. She’ll stay. She belongs with me whether she knows it or not.” His voice was resolute. Implacable. Bijou might try to run, but she wouldn’t get far.
He feared his rising anger at his brother was because Gage was voicing his own concerns. Bijou didn’t belong in the homes on the bayou—and he did. She didn’t belong in a fucked-up leopard’s lair—she was made for far greater things. Money meant little to him, it was nothing more than another tool to get through life, and the amount she had was nearly unimaginable. It wasn’t her money, it was Bijou h
erself. She was elegant, a lady, just as Gage had said. Her passion came from her leopard driving her. What happened if her leopard didn’t emerge?
“A week ago you didn’t even know she was in town, Remy. Now you’re actin’ like an idiot, drawin’ some crazed fan out so you can be a hero.”
Remy smiled, but his eyes had gone cat. He knew because he was seeing distorted heat images. “You don’ have to like her, Gage, but you do have to be respectful. I’ll defend her with everything I am. She’s my choice. And just for your information, I would have been an idiot and drawn out any stalker if a woman had come to me for help. Bijou didn’t ask. I insisted.”
Gage opened his mouth and closed it abruptly, shaking his head. “You may have bitten off more than you can chew with this one, brother. But I’ll back your play. You want Bijou Breaux, then I’m all for it.”
Remy inhaled sharply. The stalker had left his scent everywhere throughout Remy’s apartment. He had cleaned up the scenes forensically, but he couldn’t fail to leave behind his scent. Unlike the crime scene the serial killer had left behind, there was no blood and fear to contaminate the nose of a leopard.
“Have you come across this scent before?” he asked Gage.
Gage took another sniff. “No. But I’ll know him if I run into him.”
“Have all the boys come in and smell him. I want them all lookin’. The moment someone scents him, have them call me.” Remy sounded like he was giving orders—and he was. He was head of his household and his brothers would do as he said. When Drake wasn’t in residence, the rest of the lair relied on him as well. He wanted all of them out searching for Bijou’s stalker.
The man’s anger toward Bijou was escalating, but his rage toward Remy was all consuming. Remy stepped closer to the long wall in his sitting room—the wall the stalker had nearly destroyed. There was a picture ripped from the tabloid of Remy kissing Bijou and another frame where he’d lifted his head and looked directly at the camera. His body was slightly in front of Bijou’s blocking her face from the shot, but there was no denying it was her.
His face had been scribbled over with a black marker—permanent, he was certain. A knife had stabbed at the region of Bijou’s stomach and then jabbed at his body repeatedly, over and over, each tear in the photograph larger and deeper into the wall then the last. Forensics had already told him there were no prints on the knife and the knife itself was most likely untraceable, but it mattered little. The stalker had fallen into Remy’s trap, and it was only a matter of time before one of the shifters got his scent.
“I’ll get them on it,” Gage said, “but watch your back.”
Remy moved through the small apartment toward the back where the bedroom was. “He was very methodical here.” He glanced at Gage over his shoulder. “He was searching for something.”
Gage crowded closer, his eyebrow raised. There wasn’t a single thing in the bedroom untouched—or unbroken. “Searching for what?”
“Evidence that Bijou has been here.”
Gage opened and closed his mouth again. “Damn, bro. This isn’t a good situation.”
“He didn’t find anythin’,” Remy stated. “I’m not about to set her up as a target of that kind of anger. I took enough of a chance kissing her publicly. I was fairly certain he’d come after me, and I knew if he came here, he would be satisfied that Bijou has never been here.”
“You took a big risk, Remy,” Gage pointed out. “Look at the rage this stalker exhibits. He almost acts as if he owns her. She’s in real danger and kissin’ her probably added to that.”
“It was a calculated risk,” Remy admitted. “And necessary to draw him out.” He gestured toward the bed. “I think he was makin’ a statement.”
There was nothing left of the bed. Even the frame was in splinters. The mattress was slashed, ripped and stabbed repeatedly, the guts all over the room. Remy was thankful his good mattress was in his home in the bayou. On the wall, like the wall of the sitting room, a giant eye was painted in dripping red paint, the meaning clear. He was being watched. Bijou was being watched.
“Yeah, I get it,” he murmured under his breath. “Tell everyone to be careful, Gage. If they scent this man, I don’ want anyone approachin’ him. Just have them ID him to me.”
Gage nodded. “I’ll get everyone in here.”
“I have to get back to the Inn. Saria had to leave because her leopard was goin’ crazy with Bijou there.”
“Did Bijou’s leopard actually emerge?” Gage asked, his tone cautious.
“No.” Remy’s abrupt answer didn’t invite discussion.
Gage ignored him. “Her mother? Bodrie?”
“Not Bodrie,” Remy said firmly. “He didn’t have any leopard in him.”
“You certain about that?” Gage replied. “His sexual excesses were legendary. That’s a by-product of a leopard without a mate.”
Remy shook his head. “I would have known. My leopard would have known. I was around him a few times.” There was distaste in his voice. He couldn’t help it. Taking an eight-year-old child into a room filled with naked men and women and endless drugs sickened him, and every time he thought of how he’d chosen the easy way out—palming her off on Pauline and taking off—he wanted to kick himself all over again. “Bodrie was no leopard,” he repeated.
“You can’t know that for certain. It isn’t as if we haven’t had our own mess here in the lair with half leopards and crazed leopards doin’ things they shouldn’t. Look at Bannaconni’s family. And right here, Tregre’s family. Not all leopards are worth anything,” Gage reminded.
Remy swung around. “What kind of crack is that?”
Gage didn’t back up even a step, although Remy was once again seeing in heat images. “It’s no crack. I know you didn’t like Bodrie. You never talked about why, but you had to have a reason. I liked his music, but I didn’t know the man. I wasn’t referrin’ to Bijou.”
Remy took a breath. The stench of the stalker felt like an infection in his lungs. “Sorry, Gage. I’m a little jumpy. Her leopard didn’t emerge last night and when she wakes up . . .” He shook his head. “She isn’t a one-night stand kind of woman. I was pretty brutal last night with her and she was innocent. I need to get to her and explain what’s goin’ on before she takes it into her head to bolt.”
“Imbecile. Remy, are you insane? She wasn’t even experienced and you just left her? What if her leopard decides she’s ready and you’re not around? She goes runnin’ in the swamp or bayous and half the lair will be chasin’ her whether you’ve marked her as yours or not. You know what happens to males when a female is in her time.”
“She’s exhausted.” Remy glanced at his watch. Like everything he’d done, there were risks. He calculated them against the benefits. He didn’t have much more time, which was why he was directing his brother to get the members of the lair to his apartment now that the forensic team was finished.
“She’d better be.” Gage shook his head in disgust. “You’re a damn good detective and a smart son of a bitch, but you don’ know jack about women, bro.”
Remy was beginning to be more than uneasy about leaving Bijou. Gage was right, although he wasn’t going to admit it.
“Have you talked to Saria? Is she back at the Inn?” There was worry in Gage’s voice.
Remy realized he relied heavily on his own reputation. The males in the lair had grown up around him. They knew him and his leopard. Few could hope to best him in a challenge, even if they tried double-teaming him as they had Drake. If you crossed one Boudreux, you crossed all of them. Remy had the reputation of swift and terrifying punishment, and the males had always backed off if he stepped into a fight. But an unmated female was rare in their lair. More, Bijou was a celebrity with millions of dollars. On top of that she was beautiful and intelligent. Perhaps Gage had a point and he’d overestimated his lair’s fear of him.
His gut churned. Turned over. Yeah. He’d been an idiot to leave her. He needed to get back to the Inn as soon as
possible.
* * *
BIJOU pried her lashes open, groaning, afraid to face the light—or herself. Even the slightest movement sent pain crashing through her body. Every muscle hurt. She hurt in places she hadn’t known existed. Bijou groaned and threw her hand over her eyes. Last night had been the most intense, exhilarating and absolute best night of her life. So why couldn’t she just admit she loved every second of it and move on?
Why lie in bed and feel like she could never face Remy again? She was grown up, for God’s sake. She could have a night of crazy sex and face him the next day, couldn’t she? She let her breath out slowly and forced herself to sit up, drawing her knees up and rocking herself gently back and forth. She was traumatized, that’s why. Totally, absolutely traumatized. She’d never done anything like this in her life. What had gotten into her?
She’d been utterly shameless. She groaned and wiped her hand over her face. Did it have to be Remy? Her Remy? Her white knight? Her fictionalized, fantasy Remy who was her dream man. She’d had a one-night stand with him. Given up her virginity to him in a wild night of crazed sex. She’d done things she hadn’t ever imagined—or even knew she could do—and she loved it. She was some kind of pervert when it came to sex.
She always thought she had inhibitions, scarred from seeing her father on the floor having sex with multiple women. How many times had she walked into the kitchen, or their enormous living room or gone out to the pool and found him actually having sex. He didn’t even stop when she walked in, just looked up and asked her what she wanted.
She’d been around three when she began to realize what he was doing with those women. Her nannies. The housekeeper. The maids. They came and went as he tired of them. When she was seven her teacher came to the house to talk to Bodrie about absences. He’d had sex with her right there, nearly on the front steps, right in front of Bijou. When Bodrie refused to see her after that, she’d tried using Bijou to get to him. When that plan failed, she’d hated Bijou and had made her life miserable.
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