Their Mate's Redemption [Midnight, New Orleans Style 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Marla Monroe

  Pain exploded through her body as he repeatedly slammed her until she lost the ability to feel her arms and slid down the thing’s rough body to land like a sack of beans on the hard ground. It all felt surreal as the giant thing slowly turned around to stare down into her eyes with a wide smile that promised unheard-of pain. He licked his lips before showing massive stained fangs as he slowly bent to grab her.

  Chapter Two

  Gaston Robichaux turned to try and find where his brother had ended up. The sight of a demon throwing Beau into the side of a tomb enraged him. As he started toward his brother, another demon grabbed Gaston’s tail and jerked him backward. With a roar, Gaston turned on the thing and raked deadly claws across its face before turning toward his brother again. This time, he saw a female launch herself on the back of the demon and hold on despite it twisting and turning in an effort to dislodge her.

  The demon he’d slashed attacked again, roaring his pain as he swatted Gaston across the head. It hurt, but not nearly as bad as what he did to the demon to hurt it. This time he didn’t screw around and dug his claws into the spawn’s gut, ripping upward toward what could loosely be called its heart. Black blood sprayed, but Gaston had already turned and leaped away, racing for where he saw the female slide to the ground with the demon ready to take a bite out of what he was sure was tender flesh.

  Beau, his brother, was slowly getting to his paws and shaking as Gaston reached the demon in time to stop it from killing the pretty female. Even as he rode the demon to the ground, tearing its neck open as he did, the scent of his mate poured over him.

  Jumping off the already dead demon, he shook himself before padding over to where the female remained unmoving propped up against the concrete crypt. Rich brown hair, the color of mink, lay haphazardly around her heart-shaped face with the prettiest fawn-colored brown eyes he’d ever seen. Right now, they were looking at him with a mixture of awe and fear. Even as he gazed at her plump, kissable lips, her eyes widened to look to his right.

  When he jerked around to confront the latest attack, it was only to find Beau limping in their direction. Turning back to the human female with the sweetest of scents—a mixture of vanilla and clover—her worried expression tore at him. One of them needed to shift and carry her away from the bloodshed, but one needed to stay in their panther form for protection until they reached their truck.

  He jerked his head at his brother before slowly moving closer to the one who would be his and possibly his brother’s mate. Though she jerked slightly when he gently nudged her hand, the female didn’t scream or pull away. He positioned himself so he could watch over her and his brother as Beau began to shift.

  It wasn’t always this slow, but he was hurt and had expended a good deal of energy in the fight. After about thirty seconds, a tired and very naked Beau slowly stood up and stretched, cracking several bones in his neck and back as he did. Their little female’s eyes grew much wider at the sight of Beau in all his glory. It was no surprise that his little brother was aroused after the fight and with their mate’s scent pungent in the air.

  “Hey, beb. You, okay? Yes?” his brother asked the pretty little female.

  “I—I, um—you’re naked,” she nearly squealed, her eyes jumping from the direction of his brother’s erection to his face.

  “We don’t return to human with clothes on, cher. How’s your back feel? I carry you, yes?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. I can walk, but where are we going? My friends are out here somewhere. I need to find them.” She looked over his shoulder as he continued to watch her and the area beyond them where the battle had ceased and the witches were cleaning up the mess with their magic.

  “I doubt they managed to get through the magic that surrounded the fight. It’s designed to keep humans out. I’m not sure how you managed to get through,” Beau told her, kneeling next to Gaston.

  “I can’t just leave. You can go on to wherever you came from. I’ve got to find them,” she insisted, trying to get to her feet.

  Gaston chuffed at his brother to see to her. Beau immediately helped her stand up, supporting her when she moaned and staggered.

  “You’re in no shape to roam around here, . It’s dangerous this night.”

  “I have to try.” She stepped from between them, heading along the edge of the vaults, using one hand to help steady herself as she walked.

  Gaston growled and jumped up to follow her. They weren’t letting her out of their sight. Gaston was certain she wouldn’t be able to last long, and when she passed out, they would take her home with them. Forcing her wasn’t their way, though many in their pride would argue the point. As shifters, and with Gaston their LeRoy, or king, it would be expected of him to “steal” her away and claim her. It wasn’t how he wanted his mating to start out.

  “Gaston? She is weak.” Beau watched her from several paces back even as he asked what to do.

  If there’d been any question whether Beau was affected by her scent, there wasn’t now. He could see in the way his younger brother followed her every move that he would be sharing her. It was the way of many of their kind. Brothers and cousins often shared a mate between them. It had long been suggested that it was because there was a shortage of compatible females, while others felt it was nature’s way of assuring they could protect their mate and any kits she gave them. He didn’t much care what the reason was. All he cared about in that instant was seeing to their mate and figuring out how to satisfy her need to see about her friends while keeping her safe.

  “Gaston!”

  Beau’s sudden sprint toward their mate had him looking for the threat, only to watch a shrouded attacker fire something in the direction of their female. Beau hit her hard, knocking her to the ground as the soft pop of the weapon reached Gaston’s ears. Gaston had already leapt toward the attacker but was too late to stop the shot. Still, he rode the man to the ground, ripping out his throat and springing from his body toward where Beau held the female in his arms, a hand over her left side and blood seeping around it.

  Gaston roared out in fury at the site of his mate’s blood spilling from her body. Without waiting for the change to flow over him, Gaston ripped through it, ignoring the searing pain it caused. He needed his hands now. His mate was bleeding. He’d allowed the splendor of finding his mate to render him stupid. Instead of basking in her beauty, he should have been keeping watch over her life. He could worship her body in the safety and privacy of their den.

  “Move, Beau. Now!” he snapped.

  Beau immediately picked her up and raced for the truck. Gaston followed, making sure no one snuck up on them this time. When they got to the truck, Gaston threw open the back door and climbed in, grabbing the first aid kit they kept stashed beneath the seat.

  “Drive, frère! Get us home,” he snarled as he opened a pack of gauze using his teeth.

  Beau jammed the truck into drive and took off as Gaston looked at where the female had been shot. He gently rolled her over to be sure there was an exit wound. He slapped a dressing over it then added a pressure bandage. Worry ate at him as he slowly leaned in and sniffed. Relief had him closing his eyes for a second. No scent of bowel involved. She would heal. He opened another packet of gauze and slowly unfastened her jeans to lower them enough that he could reach the wound. He covered the entrance hole with the gauze and then the pressure bandage. As he smoothed out the bandage, a smudge just below the bandage snagged his attention. When he pushed the waistline of her jeans down a little lower, the site that met his eyes floored him.

  “Impossible!” he murmured to himself.

  “What is it? Is she okay?” Beau asked from the front seat, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “She’s going to be fine. The bullet went all the way through and missed anything serious.” He wanted to tell his brother, but not here.

  “Get us home, Beau. We need to talk.”

  * * * *

  Beau pulled onto their road, pride land surrounding them, and with it, t
he magic that was their heritage. He could already feel his body healing and the peace that was home seeping into his veins. Now all he needed to feel complete was to know what had caused the tremor in his brother’s voice. Nothing rattled Gaston.

  “Almost there,” he called over his shoulder.

  “As soon as you pull into the garage, lock the garage door then help me get her inside,” Gaston told him.

  The instant he had pulled into the garage, Beau hit the control to lower it and lock it down behind them. Shoving the gearshift into park, he snagged the keys, climbed out of the cab, and opened the back door to take the female from his brother. Accepting her slight weight, he walked quickly toward the door. Gaston was there before him to open it. Once inside, he hurried down the hall with his precious cargo. Again his brother raced ahead of him to open the door to his room. As the LeRoy of their pride, he had the master suite. It was where his new mate would reside with him. Beau knew she was his mate, as well, but didn’t know if Gaston was going to allow him to acknowledge their connection or not. It weighed heavily on him, especially since Gaston had said they needed to talk.

  He gently settled her on the massive bed and brushed her hair from her face. Her scent called to him to the point of pain. He wanted to taste her skin, drink in her beauty, but she needed healing first. She came first and always would.

  “We have to protect her, Beau. She is our future and the future of our pride,” Gaston said as he carefully removed the dressing.

  “What is it that we need to talk about?” he asked.

  “This.” Gaston lowered her jeans, exposing something on her pelvis just below where the bullet had gone through her.

  Beau leaned in to get a better look and almost staggered back at the sight of the paw-shaped birthmark there, the same one that graced his brother’s chest over his heart and the one Beau carried on back of his neck just below his hairline. It was the sign of royalty and only appeared on those destined to lead. It was prophesied that when three joined in a mating bond, the order of things would change.

  “How? She’s not a shifter,” he whispered.

  “I don’t know. The mark is there, and there’s no mistaking the mating scent she carries for me, and I assume for you, as well,” Gaston said.

  All he could do was nod in reply. He watched as his brother cleaned her wound before reapplying the bandages. The bleeding had already stopped, though it really shouldn’t have. All he could think about that was that her status as a royal gave her a certain level of ability. Hell, he had no idea what to think at this point. Their mate was the third of the legends.

  Sometimes two brothers or two cousins would exhibit the royal marks, but never had there been three before. The implications both thrilled and worried him. With her not being a shifter and cat, their pride might not accept her, mark or no mark. Many of their group didn’t believe in mixing humans with shifters regardless of the fact that any kits born would be shifters by nature. Keeping her safe would be their main focus, which could distract them from effectively leading the pride.

  Looking down at the heart-shaped face with its soft, inviting lips, Beau knew a moment of fear before grim determination settled into his soul. That was why there were two of them—one to protect and one to lead. He’d be her protector while his brother did what he did best, care for their pride and rule their destinies.

  Chapter Three

  Shayla slowly came to, her mouth dry and sticky. Her head didn’t ache, so she didn’t seem to have a hangover. But if she didn’t have a hangover, that meant she hadn’t been drunk last night when she’d hallucinated or imagined those demon-looking things, the huge panthers, and whatever the things had been that smelled like rotting meat. Her eyes snapped open, and she immediately closed them against the glare of sunlight.

  Where was she? The brief glimpse she’d gotten of the room hadn’t been familiar at all. It certainly hadn’t been the tiny hotel room she’d gotten at the New Orleans Inn. And why did it feel as if she wasn’t alone in the bed?

  Cautiously, Shayla moved her elbows out from her sides and encountered solid flesh on both sides of her—naked flesh. This time her eyes opened and stayed open as a very real fear slammed into her. She started to jump up so she could crawl from the bed, but a searing pain to her left side stopped her, wringing a cry from her throat she couldn’t stop.

  “Easy. You’re injured, cher. Don’t be afraid. We would never harm you.” The soft, deep, accented voice from the man on her right matched the compassionate expression on his face.

  As she looked from one deeply tanned face to the other, Shayla had a feeling she was a mouse being watched by two very hungry cats. Dark black eyes peered down at her from both sides. Despite the sensation of being stalked, she really didn’t think they would harm her. She just felt caged in, and with everything that had happened the night before, she didn’t know if she could trust herself or her instincts. How could she when she would swear she’d seen all manner of supernatural beings that didn’t exist in real life?

  “Wh–who are you? Where am I?” she asked around the throbbing pain in her side.

  “I am Gaston Robichaux, and this is my brother, Beauregard, but call him Beau. You’re in our home out of da city,” the slightly larger of the two men said in an equally deep voice rich in the Cajun accent of the area.

  “Vomment ca vas, beb?” the first one asked.

  “Beb? I remember Lissette using that. She said it was a term of endearment. We don’t know each other,” she said, frowning.

  The one called Beau frowned and cocked his head to one side. A mass of curly black hair fell over his shoulder. The silky thick strands made her want to reach out and run her fingers through the curls to see if they were as soft as they looked. She barely stopped herself from doing just that.

  “Who dis Lissette? One of the friends you were looking for last night?” he asked.

  “No. No, she was killed a long time ago. I was with some other friends from my college days. We were sort of having a reunion vacation together. We don’t get to see each other since we each live in different parts of the US now.” She snuck a glance at the one called Gaston. His sharper features and restrained expression gave him an aloof air. She doubted he would appreciate that description one bit, but it fit him just then.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his features softening a bit. “She was right though. Beb is an endearment, and we use it sparingly among our kind. You, however, are special.”

  Shayla was even more confused than she’d been before. Shaking her head, she looked over to Beau. She saw no hint of what his brother meant by that on the other man’s face. What was going on?

  I’m dreaming. That has to be the answer. I fell and hit my head on one of those headstones or a vault and now I’m dreaming.

  “I really need to get back to my hotel room. My friends will be worried about me if I don’t show up,” she said, attempting to sit up once more.

  “Non, beb. The wound in your side is not healed. You must remain here until it is safe for you to move about,” Beau said, laying a gentle hand to her shoulder to keep her down.

  “Don’t worry about your things, cher. I had one of our pride retrieve your things and bring them here,” Gaston told her.

  “How did you know where I was staying?” Which alerted her to the one thing she’d been subconsciously ignoring until now. She was completely naked beneath the covers.

  She could feel her face burn with the knowledge. That was how they’d known where she was staying. When they’d removed her clothes, her keycard and the cardboard cover with her room number had been in the back pocket of her jeans. She closed her eyes in an effort to block out the entire thing from her mind. It didn’t work. She could smell them. Their musky scent reminded her of cedar and something feral. She couldn’t pretend they didn’t exist as her body heated for them.

  Them? What is wrong with me? I don’t know them from Adam’s house cat, and there are two of them.

  “I think you
figured that much out, beb. Now why don’t you tell us your name?” Gaston asked.

  “You’ve undressed me and kidnapped me and you don’t even know my name? You have my things, so you should know who I am.” She was getting angry now.

  “We haven’t left your side since we brought you here, and I don’t want anyone else pawing through your things,” Gaston said with just a hint of a snarl.

  “Yet you have no trouble undressing me and keeping me here against my will,” she all but yelled back at him.

  “Easy. You need to remain calm. You’re injured, and we couldn’t leave you there for someone to harm you again,” Beau said, giving her shoulder a light squeeze.

  Her lower side throbbed, reminding her that something was wrong with her. She wanted to look, but that would require lifting the covers and she had no intentions of flashing her body to the two men still lying in bed next to her.

  “How can I be calm when I’m surrounded by men I don’t know and I’m not wearing anything? I hope to God that you two are.”

  When Gaston smiled, showing pearly white teeth, the canines much sharper than they should have been, she gulped, swallowing hard around the thickness in her throat at the sight of them and that feral smile.

  “Y–you’re not, are you?”

  “We don’t like clothes against our skin. We only wear them when we have to,” Beau explained, his smile only slightly less intimidating.

  “You’re nudists?”

  Beau roared with laughter, rolling over to the edge of the bed as he did. Unfortunately he took the covers with him, and no amount of holding on to them worked as they slipped through her fingers, exposing her breasts and Gaston’s entire amazing body in the process. She screeched, covering her breasts with her arms, and tried not to gape at Gaston’s smooth, wide chest and broad shoulders. She didn’t want to see how all that muscular goodness tapered down to a trim waist and hard, ribbed abs that she swore she could wash laundry on.