Talon/Xavier (Bayou Heat)

by Laura Wright

  With a blur of motion, Talon was standing directly in front of the man, the tip of his dagger beneath his chin.

  “Here’s the deal,” he said in soft, lethal tones. “You’ve been working with Suits. I’m a Hunter. Do you know what that means?”

  The man licked his lips. “No.”

  Talon allowed his cat to glow in his eyes, watching the man with a hunger that would terrify any human.

  “It means that my job description is tracking down enemies and killing them.” He allowed the dagger to pierce the man’s skin. “I don’t negotiate. I don’t heal. I don’t nurture. I kill. And I do it very, very well.”

  “Fine,” the man hissed, his expression sullen. “What do you want?”

  “Answers.”

  “To what?”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “Isi,” he answered without hesitation. “She owns this joint.”

  Talon clenched his teeth, pretending his cat wasn’t snarling in disbelief. What did his cat know about human treachery?

  “She trained you to brand traitors with that mark?”

  Something flickered in the mud eyes. A warning that he was about to lie.

  “She—”

  “The truth or I’ll start cutting off body parts.” He lowered the dagger to press it against the man’s dick. There was nothing like threatening to take an idiot’s manhood to put him in the mood to share. “Starting here.”

  A layer of sweat coated the man’s face, but his expression remained defiant. “No. The bitch has no idea what’s going on.”

  Talon’s grip tightened on the handle of the dagger. Did he believe the man?

  Actually…he did.

  Derek might pretend to be a tough guy, but at his core he was a coward.

  If he could try to throw blame on Isi to cover his own ass, he would.

  Refusing to dwell on the surge of relief that rushed through him, Talon nodded toward the iron rod still held in Derek’s hand.

  “Then who gave you the brand?”

  “I made it myself.” He lifted it to reveal the raven on the bottom. “Like it?”

  Rage blasted through Talon.

  These son of a bitches were destroying his homeland.

  His people.

  He wanted answers. Then he wanted to rip the bastard into tiny, bloody strips.

  “It’s as offensive as you are,” he snarled. “Where did you learn to create the symbol?”

  The man licked his lips, no doubt sensing Talon was just waiting for an excuse to kill him.

  “I was approached by a voodoo priestess while I was in jail for a minor disagreement with my ex-wife,” he said.

  Voodoo priestess would match what Vincent and Savoy had told Bayon.

  “What was her name?”

  The man shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Talon lifted the dagger to press it beneath Derek’s chin.

  “Don’t screw with me,” he growled.

  The man hissed in pain, but he was smart enough not to try to pull away. “I’m serious. She called herself Lady Cerise, but when I tried to find her later no one had ever heard of her. She must have used a false name.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  “She paid my bail and told me she had a job for me,” Derek admitted. “She gave me a card with the symbol of the raven flying across a full moon, and the address. Then she left.”

  “What was the job?”

  “I went to the address that was an old warehouse where I met a group of men who promised an endless supply of money if I did what I was told and didn’t ask too many questions.”

  Talon narrowed his gaze. Even with the threat of death, he was surprised Derek would so easily answer his questions.

  He’d sensed the man was a coward, but surely he had to worry his fellow traitors would discover he squealed?

  “For doing what?”

  The man glanced toward the branding iron clutched in his hand. “My primary job is to brand the new recruits, but I do whatever I’m told to do.”

  “How did you end up in this shop?” he demanded, needing to know his connection to Isi. Why? He scowled, refusing to answer the question. “Was it because of her birthmark?”

  Derek blinked in genuine bafflement. “What birthmark?”

  “Never mind,” he growled, aggravated he’d even asked the question. “Why did you choose this shop?”

  “It was Lon.”

  “Who?”

  “The alpha dog of our little crew.” Derek’s lips curled in disdain. The loser clearly had an allergy to authority. Typical. “He wanted me here to keep an eye on Isi.”

  Talon slid the dagger toward the man’s throat, his eyes glowing as his cat snarled for blood.

  “Why?”

  Derek stiffened, the stench of his fear making Talon grimace. Still, his expression remained insolent.

  “Lon wanted to know where she was and who was visiting the shop.”

  “He wanted to know about the Pantera?”

  “Lon wasn’t specific. He wanted me to keep a log on everyone who entered the shop.” The mud eyes darkened with frustration. “I assume they were hoping someone would contact her, but they didn’t share the information with me. I was just an insignificant peon.”

  Talon studied Derek’s rat face. “And that’s it?”

  He gave a lift of one shoulder. “For me.”

  “What about the others?”

  “There are some who sneak into the Wildlands and perform some hokey ritual,” Derek said, unaware of Talon’s burst of fury. Those hokey rituals were destroying his home. “And others who spend most of their time traveling around the world.”

  “Recruiters?”

  “No.” Derek arched backward, as if trying to remove his chin from the sharp edge of Talon’s blade. “Like I said, they’re looking for someone.”

  Talon was instantly intrigued.

  If his enemies wanted this person, then it was imperative the Pantera got their hands on him first.

  “You have some idea who this person is? Man or woman? Human or Pantera?”

  Bitter envy twisted the man’s expression. “That info was above my pay grade.”

  Talon made a sound of impatience. “Where is the warehouse?”

  Derek abruptly spit in Talon’s face, using the momentary distraction to yank out the gun he’d had holstered at his lower back.

  Talon belatedly realized why the man had been so eager to answer his questions. He’d simply been trying to keep Talon distracted long enough to get out his weapon.

  “That’s enough questions,” the man roared. “Die, you fucking animal.”

  “Not today.”

  With a speed the human couldn’t hope to match, Talon wrenched the gun from the man’s hand, and with one swing of his arm he’d knocked Derek off his feet to crash head first into the wall.

  The man landed heavily on the floor, blood flowing from the cut on his forehead. He was injured, but Talon could hear the steady beat of his heart.

  Grimly he forced himself to turn and leave the room, closing the door behind him.

  There was nothing he wanted more than to cut out the man’s heart and feed it to the gators, but he was a Hunter who understood that sometimes the best way to catch his prey was to use bait.

  Once Derek woke up, his first instinct would be to return to the Mother Ship.

  Or in this case, the warehouse where Lon and his crew were hidden.

  Talon intended to make sure the bastard was followed.

  Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he hit speed dial. “I need a surveillance team in New Orleans. Oh, and there’s a stiff to clean up.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Isi was standing in the kitchen with pretty white cabinets and a black and white tiled floor, trying to work up enthusiasm for dinner, when Talon strolled through the back door.

  Immediately she glanced toward the granite countertops for something to throw at his head.

  The ceramic cookie jar wo
uld make a satisfying projectile, but it probably wouldn’t cause much damage. While the knives stuck in a wooden block would draw blood, but only if he couldn’t dodge them.

  Highly unlikely.

  She was debating between the coffeemaker and the blender when he prowled forward to toss a white paper bag on the polished oak table that matched the china cabinet filled with family heirlooms.

  “Here.”

  She glared at him, hating the fact that her body was already reacting to his presence.

  Not just the easing of her nausea that had become progressively worse during his absence, but the immediate awareness that shivered through her.

  God. How could her nipples be hardening beneath her sweatshirt and her pussy already be dampening in preparation for his hard, uncompromising entry?

  Okay, he was gorgeous.

  A tall, stunningly handsome warrior with a lean, sculpted body and eyes that appeared more jade than gold in fading light.

  She was mad as hell at him, but her body craved him as if…as if he’d used one of her love potions on her.

  In a desperate effort to ease the destructive tide of lust that was as unwanted as it was unexpected, Isi pointed toward the white bag.

  “What is it?”

  He leaned forward, pulling out the plastic bowl and removing the lid. “Gumbo.”

  Isi’s eyes widened as the mouthwatering smell teased at her nose. There was only one place that made gumbo that smelled like heaven.

  “That’s my…” She cut off her words, unwilling to reveal any part of herself to the ruthless Hunter.

  “Favorite?” he murmured, moving to the cabinets to open a door and extract a spoon. Returning to the table, he put the spoon in the bowl of gumbo before glancing at her rigid form with an unreadable expression. “I know.”

  Her frown deepened.

  She knew the Pantera could screw with humans’ minds, but she’d never heard that they could read people’s thoughts.

  “How?”

  His lips twisted. “I was just leaving your shop when a female stormed up to me demanding to know where you were and why she hadn’t heard from you.”

  “Emile.” The older woman owned the restaurant across the street from her shop, and not only made the best gumbo in all of Louisiana, but she watched over Isi like a mother hen. Isi’s heart clenched with sudden fear. “What did you do to her?”

  “I told her that you had been ill and that I was taking care of you.” He pointed toward the bowl. “She insisted that her gumbo was necessary to your healing.”

  Isi shook her head in disbelief.

  Even dressed in a pair of faded jeans and well-worn LSU T-shirt Talon looked like a dangerous, potentially deadly predator.

  “She believed you?”

  “Why wouldn’t she? It’s the truth.” He pulled out a chair. “Eat.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, savoring the scent of seafood and rice in rich broth. It smelled incredible, but her stomach rebelled at the mere thought of indulging in such a spicy meal.

  “I don’t think I can.”

  His lips flattened. “Don’t be stubborn. I can sense your hunger.”

  She folded her arms over her rumbling stomach, hoping that it was the physical hunger he sensed and not the heat that had nothing to do with the steamy bayou night.

  “I can’t keep it down,” she muttered.

  “Ah.” Comprehension flared in the golden jade eyes. Then, astonishingly, he held out his arms. “Come here.”

  She took an awkward step backward. “No way.”

  “Stubborn,” he breathed, moving around the table and prowling toward her.

  Her ass hit the edge of the counter, halting her retreat.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she rasped as he continued forward, not stopping until he was pressed tight against her.

  He wrapped his arms around her, lowering his head until she was surrounded in the heat and musk of him.

  “Making you better,” he murmured.

  “Don’t…” She forgot what she was going to say as the nausea eked away, replaced by a warm sense of pleasure. Even the throbbing pain at the base of her skull disappeared. “Oh, dammit,” she growled, dropping her head against his chest. She knew she should be fighting. The man had called her evil, for christ’s sake. Asshole. But it felt so damned good.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she concentrated on the delectable musk that seeped deep inside her, chasing away the last of her sickness.

  Not that she wasn’t acutely aware of his hand that rubbed up and down her back with a shockingly tender motion. Or his warm breath that brushed her cheek. Or even the hardening thrust of his arousal that pressed into her lower stomach.

  But for now, it was the glorious sensation of well-being that made her sigh in pleasure.

  “Can you eat now?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  Without warning, Talon scooped her off her feet and carried her toward the table. Then, instead of putting her down, he sat on a wooden chair and tucked her in his lap.

  “Talon—”

  “Shh.” He reached for the bowl of gumbo, placing it directly in front of her. “Eat.”

  Once again she knew she should fight.

  This new and improved Talon was obviously some trick.

  She didn’t believe for a second that he actually gave a shit if she were suffering.

  But it’d been weeks since she’d actually had an appetite and the gumbo smelled so damned good.

  Why not enjoy her dinner?

  She had plenty of time to be pissed at him after she ate.

  Grabbing the spoon, she scooped out a massive bite of the gumbo, shoving it into her mouth with an unashamed lack of female manners.

  She groaned as the taste of crawfish and exotic spices hit her tongue. “Oh, god.” She hurriedly scooped more of the gumbo into her mouth. “It’s heaven.”

  Talon remained silent as she worked her way through her meal, his hand continuing its soothing path up and down her back and his gaze locked on her face. Isi did her best to ignore him. Well, as much as any female could ignore a six foot two puma shifter with the face of a fallen angel and a blatant sensuality that rubbed against her skin like plush velvet.

  Eating the last bite, Isi managed not to lick the bowl—barely—and dropped the spoon onto the table. Then she heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction, savoring the sensation of being full.

  “I could put that look on your face,” Talon’s dark voice whispered in her ear, one hand cupping the back of her neck while the other grasped her hip, pressing her against his thick cock. “In fact, I already did.”

  She narrowed her gaze. So now they were going from pretending he was some sort of nurturing saint to the smooth seduction routine?

  “You’re so full of shit,” she muttered.

  He nibbled a path down the line of her jaw, his hips lifting so he could rub his erection against the soft flesh of her ass.

  “But you want me.”

  She shivered, need thundering through her body. Yes, she wanted him. Dammit. It was taking every ounce of her self-control not to turn so she was straddling him, pressing herself against the length of his cock to ease her ruthless need.

  But she’d spent the entire day convincing herself that she wasn’t going to give Talon the Bastard another chance to humiliate her.

  He’d called her evil.

  He believed she was fated to destroy his people.

  She’d had enough people in her life judging her without ever knowing a thing about her, thank you very fucking much.

  “Why were you in my store?” she demanded, needing to remind herself she couldn’t trust this Pantera any farther than she could toss him.

  He gave a low growl, his fingers tightening on her neck before he blew out a frustrated sigh and reached into his pocket to pull out his cellphone.

  With a flick of his finger, he brought up his photos, choosing one that was clearly taken in front of her shop.

  “This,�
�� he said.

  She frowned in confusion. “My van?”

  His finger touched the emblem painted on the back panel. A raven flying across a full moon.

  “This is the symbol of Shakpi,” he murmured. “Our enemy.”

  She stiffened in his arms. Even expecting the blunt accusation, she flinched.

  “I didn’t paint the van,” she muttered before she could halt the words.

  “I know,” he said with surprising certainty, tossing his phone on the table. “Your employee Derek designed it.”

  She sent him a startled glance. How the hell did he know about Derek?

  “Yes. He said it would bring in more customers. I just liked it because—” She lifted her hand toward her birthmark only to drop it as she recalled his assurance that the blemish was a physical manifestation of her evilness. She shrugged. “I thought it was cool.”

  He held her gaze, his hand moving to lightly trace the dark spot on her collarbone. “Because of this.”

  His touch blazed through her like a wildfire, scorching her nerves until they were unbearably sensitive.

  Which only pissed her off.

  She didn’t want Talon to be the one man who could make her crave his touch. To make her so hungry she could barely think.

  At least…she shouldn’t want it to be him.

  “So you went to my shop looking for my tails and horns and pitchfork,” she muttered, her nipples hardening in anticipation of his touch. “Did you find them?”

  “I found Derek,” he admitted, leaning forward to replace his fingers with the destructive touch of his lips. “And he confessed you weren’t involved with the traitors.”

  She shuddered, her gaze locked on the savage beauty of his face as he used his tongue to trace the distinctive birthmark.

  “And yet you don’t trust me,” she husked, barely able to breathe.

  His fingers slipped into the short strands of her hair, tugging back her head so his lips could explore the satin length of her neck.

  “I don’t trust my judgment when you’re near.”

  She tried to squelch the moan that was wrenched from her throat. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “The prophecy says you’re destined to destroy me.” His fingers skimmed from her hip to tease the bare skin of her lower back. Then, as his teeth nipped the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder, he moved his hand to discoverri the ribbon that laced together the back of her tiny top. With one tug her silky fabric was falling down to expose her bare breasts. Talon hissed as he pulled back to admire his handiwork, the jade that rimmed his eyes darkening with a brutal hunger. “But when I look at you all I see is how desperately I want you.”