Rage couldn’t argue. He was a hell-raiser when he was young. But he was an amateur when compared to Lucie.
“I wasn’t on the FBI most wanted list,” he muttered.
Parish studied him for a long, nerve-wracking moment, then he grimaced, as if coming to an unwelcomed decision.
“You’re not being entirely fair, mon ami,” he abruptly said. “Life wasn’t easy for Lucie.”
Rage frowned. Parish was the master of the understatement. If he said life wasn’t easy, then it must have been hell.
“I know her parents were Suits and spent most of their time away from the Wildlands,” Rage said, struggling to recall what little he knew about the secretive female.
“Too much time away.” Parish shook his head, his jaw tight. “Lucie should have been raised in the community nursery, but her grandfather insisted that she live with him.”
Most cubs spent at least some time in the nursery. It helped to solidify their sense of pack. And children of Diplomats spent more time than others. The Wildlands were far safer for the cubs.
“He was a recluse, wasn’t he?” Rage demanded. He barely remembered the cantankerous old man. The only time they’d crossed paths, the bastard had threatened to have Rage and his friends tossed in the bog if they ever stepped on his property.
“Unfortunately. None of us realized that he’d been affected by the rot that had already seeped into the Wildlands.” Parish glanced toward the window where the lush beauty of the bayou hid the fact that only a few weeks before there’d been a creeping evil that had threatened to destroy the Pantera. “Not until too late.”
Rage took a step toward his friend. “What do you mean, too late?”
“When Lucie was born, she was undersized and dangerously frail. If the Healers had been allowed to treat her, she would easily have outgrown her weakness, but Theo was determined to use what he called old magic to cure her.”
Rage arched a brow. “What the hell is old magic?”
The air heated with the force of Parish’s sudden burst of anger. “We assumed he meant the traditional herbs and potions from the elders. None of us knew he was tying her to trees during the middle of the night like she was a fucking rabid animal, or forcing her to hunt for her own food when she was barely old enough to shift. Lucie’s early life was a brutal lesson in survival.”
A savage sense of guilt twisted Rage’s gut.
“Shit,” he rasped, hating himself for not taking the time to find out why Lucie had always remained an outsider. And why she’d felt such an intense need to rebel.
Maybe if he’d thought about something beyond his own wounded pride he could have…
Rage abruptly leashed his cat as a growl rumbled in his chest.
He might want to taste blood, but Theo was dead and Lucie missing. He couldn’t change the past. All he could do was make sure that he didn’t leap to conclusions again.
“Cut her a break when you find her,” Parish broke into his dark thoughts.
“If I find her,” Rage muttered, accepting he’d been efficiently manipulated into going after the missing female.
As if there’d ever been any doubt.
Shoving away from the desk, Parish reached to lay a hand on Rage’s shoulder. “I have every faith in you, mon ami.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Rage muttered. “Do you have any clue where I should start?”
“New Orleans.”
* * * *
The office overlooking the Mississippi River had the hushed elegance that came from money.
A lot of money.
Not that Lucie was impressed with the contemporary style. The sleek glass and steel desk was a ridiculous statement of fashion, not function. And the low leather seats couldn’t possibly be comfortable. Not unless you were a contortionist. Not to mention the fact that the original oil paintings that lined the white walls looked like someone had tossed a can of paint at that canvas and called it art.
Whatever.
She wasn’t here to be the interior decorator. Nope. She was here to give her report and get her money.
End of story.
Pacing from one end of the room to the other, Lucie waited for the man seated behind the desk to lift his head and study her with a disgruntled expression.
“How long?” he demanded.
Lucie shrugged. He was asking her how much time it’d taken her to hack into his top-of-the-line computer security system.
“Less than an hour.”
“God. Damn.” Vern Spencer shook his head.
The middle-aged human was no doubt attractive to most women. He had a well-maintained body, dark hair that was threaded with silver and brushed from his lean face. Currently he was wearing a designer suit that cost more than many people made in a month. His main attraction, however, was the fact he was the CEO of a billion dollar energy company. Human women seemed to be fascinated by a large bank account.
To Lucie, he was another job.
“I spent a fortune on our latest upgrades,” the man groused.
“It’s good, but not good enough.” She nodded toward her report that he’d spread across his desk. “I’ve made suggestions of where you need to shore up your security.” She allowed a rare smile to touch her lips. “And my bill.”
“Another damn fortune,” Vern grumbled, his gaze lingering on her delicate features before they moved down to her slender body that was hidden beneath a pair of jeans and faded Pat O’Brien’s tee.
“Do you want the best or not?” she demanded.
“Yeah, yeah.” A cunning expression touched the man’s thin face. “I’ll have the money transferred into your account.”
Lucie rolled her eyes. She was always very clear about her demands before taking on a new job.
“You know I run a cash only business.”
Vern shook his head, leaning to the side to open his briefcase. Then, grabbing a thick envelope, he tossed it onto the desk.
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that Lucie?” he asked her, watching as she snatched up the envelope and promptly counted the crisp bills inside.
She didn’t trust anyone. Period.
“I try.” She strolled toward the nearby door. “Let me know next time you upgrade.”
There was the sound of Vern hastily rising to his feet. “What’s your hurry?”
Lucie’s steps never slowed. “It’s late.”
“Not that late. We could have a drink or—”
“No.”
“What about a quick trip to Paris? I have my jet on standby—”
“No.”
There was a strangled sound of disbelief. No doubt Vern was accustomed to women who would do backflips at the chance to go out with him. Like another male that she’d once known.
Bleck.
“Well, you’re nothing if not blunt,” he said with a small laugh.
“It saves any misunderstandings.” She glanced over her shoulder, her ponytail swinging. “Call me if you have a job.”
Without giving him time to press his invitation to linger, Lucie headed out of the office and toward the nearest stairs. It didn’t matter she was on the tenth floor. There was no way she was going to get into an elevator.
There mere thought of being trapped in a small box made her breath lock in her lungs.
After her grandfather…
No. Lucie gave a shake of her head and jogged easily down the stairs. There was no past.
Only the future.
Within minutes, she was out of the building and moving down the dark street. Her thoughts were still with the easy money she was shoving into her back pocket. It was crazy, really. She’d started hacking in defiance of Xavier and his stupid rules. She hated people telling her what to do. Besides, being able to break into systems that were supposedly impenetrable made her feel like a badass.
And after leaving the Wildlands, she’d needed to hack to support herself.
But in the end, she’d discovered she could earn a shitload more cash by be
coming legitimate. Now companies paid her to hack into their high-security systems.
How ironic was that?
The smug thought had barely drifted through her mind when an intoxicating scent of musk had her coming to a sharp halt.
Pantera.
Shit.
Although the puma-shifters preferred to stay in the Wildlands, there were always a few roaming the city. Either to spy on the humans or to keep up on their ever-changing technology. But over the years, fewer and fewer were willing to risk leaving their homelands, and she’d become overly complacent.
Knowing it was too late, she still turned, trying to dart into the nearby alley.
She’d barely manage to take a step when arms were wrapping around her waist and she was being pulled against a hard, male chest.
“You’re a hard girl to track down,” a low, disturbingly familiar voice whispered in her ear, sending Lucie into an instant panic. Kicking backward, she managed to connect with his shin while at the same time she turned her head, snapping her teeth at his face. “Shit, Lucie.” His arms tightened until she could barely breathe, let alone move. “Easy, for god’s sake, it’s me.”
Yeah, like she didn’t know that it was Rage who held her?
This male had once figured into her every girlish fantasy. She’d spent hours watching him from a distance, fascinated by his male beauty and the easy charm that made him a favorite among the females.
And much to her embarrassment, she still found herself searching for him during the rare occurrences she returned to the Wildlands.
Now she was desperate to get away from him.
“Let me go, Rage,” she growled.
He chuckled. “Long time no see.”
Lucie didn’t know what bad juju had crossed her path with this male, but she needed to get away. Not out of fear. Xavier had removed the bounty on her head some time ago. But this male…
He disturbed her in a way she didn’t fully understand.
With practiced ease she went boneless in his arms, her head sagging against his chest.
“You’re hurting me,” she whimpered.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Lucie.”
On cue, the strong arms loosened their grip and Lucie was shoving out of his grasp and scrambling down the alley.
If she could reach the…
With a speed that shocked her, Rage had already caught up to her and was tossing her over his shoulders as he continued down the alley and onto a backstreet.
“Parish is going to pay for this,” he muttered.
Lucie scowled as she pounded Rage’s back. This wasn’t a chance meeting?
“Parish sent you?” she demanded.
“Yes.”
She heaved a resigned sigh. “Put me down.”
Ignoring her command, he picked up speed, heading away from the commercial district to a quiet residential neighborhood lined with weeping willows.
“Not until we have a chance to speak,” he warned.
She slammed her fist against the hard muscles of his back, nearly breaking her fingers.
“Dammit, Rage.”
“Temper, temper,” he teased, moving in silence despite the fact he was carrying a squirming, furious female.
Lucie made a sound of frustration. If Parish wanted something from her, why the hell had he sent this male? The leader of the Hunters had been one of the few Pantera she’d ever let get close to her. And that was only because the stubborn bastard wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. He had to have suspected that she watched Rage more than any of the other males.
Or was that the point?
Did Parish assume that she would be so dazzled by the gorgeous Rage that she would fall into line like a good little Pantera?
She wanted to laugh at the mere thought. She didn’t let anything or anyone control her. Not since she escaped her grandfather. But there was nothing amusing in the jolts of excitement that were streaking through her as the heat of Rage’s body seeped through her clothing and his musky scent teased at her senses.
Shit. He was hauling her around like a sack of potatoes, but she was getting turned on.
She’d dreamed a thousand nights that Rage would catch sight of her lurking in the trees and rush over to grab her in his arms. And yes, there’d been more than once she’d fantasized he would throw her over his shoulder and haul her into the shadows so he could strip off her clothes and kiss her quivering body from head to toe…
Lucie heaved a groan of relief as they reached the white, plantation-style home set well away from the street that served as a local safe house for the Pantera. Circling to the backyard, Rage was forced to lower her to her feet as he placed his hand against the scanner hidden behind a potted plant. Slowly the door slid open and Rage led her into a large kitchen that was filled with a delicious smell that made her stomach rumble with hunger.
Stepping away from the male, she glanced around the room that was lined with wooden cabinets painted a pretty white. The floor was made of flagstone, and overhead, the open-beamed ceiling had dried herbs hanging alongside a set of copper pots.
A part of her itched to get out of the house that was filled with smells of home. The potpourri that was made from the Dyesse lily that only grew in the Wildlands. Rich moss that had been carried into the kitchen on someone’s shoes. And that enticing scent of food that was bubbling in a pot on the stove.
Even worse was the flame of anticipation that licked through her at the realization they were alone in the house.
Dammit.
“Are you going to tell me why you kidnapped me?” she forced herself to mutter.
Rage cocked a dark brow, his gaze taking a slow, leisurely survey of her tense form.
“Kidnapped?” he drawled. “Isn’t that a little overdramatic?”
She shrugged. “I was minding my own business when I was snatched off the street and forcibly brought to this house. What would you call it?”
He flashed his wicked smile. “Your lucky night.”
“Ugh.” She glared at him, pretending her heart wasn’t racing and her palms sweating. Christ, what was it with this male? Did he have some sort of direct connection to her deepest urges? “You haven’t changed.”
“You have.” Without warning he prowled forward, the glow of the overhead light adding a gloss to the ebony satin of his hair and shimmering in the amazing violet eyes. Slowly his hand lifted to brush over her cheek before he was reaching to tug at the scrunchie that contained her long hair in a ponytail, allowing the reddish-gold curls to cascade down her back. A low growl rumbled in his chest. “If it wasn’t for your scent, I would never have recognized you.”
Lucie took a shocked step backward, slamming into the cabinets behind her as she struggled to breathe.
“What are you doing?”
The scent of his musk deepened, saturating the air with his male arousal.
“There’s no need to panic.” He combed his fingers through her hair, as if he was savoring the feel of the strands sliding against his skin. “Unlike you, I don’t bite.” He leaned down to whisper directly in her ear. “Not unless you ask really…really nice.”
Chapter 2
Rage was lost in sensations.
It was crazy.
He’d spent over six hours searching from one end of New Orleans to another trying to locate Lucie Gaudet. He was tired, hungry, and pissed that Parish was wasting his skills. He should be hunting down the bastards who were responsible for capturing Pantera and treating them as their personal test animals.
But then he’d caught Lucie’s scent.
He’d recognized it immediately. A fragrant, enticing musk. Like primroses. Sweet, with the danger of prickles beneath the velvet blooms. He had no idea why it seemed so familiar. As if the smell had been a part of his unconsciousness for years. Perhaps decades.
Then he’d caught sight of his prey and it felt as if his entire world had been turned upside down.
It wasn’t just her unexpected beauty, although he’d b
een stunned at his first glimpse. Who knew that once the tangles were combed out of her hair, it would prove to be a glorious gold that was threaded with hints of fire? Even pulled into a tight ponytail, he’d known it would look perfect spread across his pillowcase. Or that her too-thin face would mature into elegant lines that emphasized the bright gold eyes rimmed with jade?
It was the lingering resemblance to a tiny wood sprite he used to glimpse in the trees. She was elusive and untamable. Like quicksilver.
And it wasn’t until he caught sight of her again that he realized just how much he’d missed her presence in the Wildlands. Oh, he’d been aggravated by her outrageous behavior. And his human side had considered her a childish pest. But deep inside it was as if his cat had been waiting, always knowing that he would once again cross paths with Lucie.
The knowledge was terrifying.
Unfortunately, it didn’t keep him from being obsessed with the need to touch the wary young female. Not even when she was glaring at him as if she wanted to punch him in the junk.
Stroking his fingers through the warm silk of her hair, he watched in fasciation as it brushed against the milky softness of her cheek. At the base of her throat he could see her pulse fluttering, the evocative scent of primroses clouding his mind.
He had to have a taste.
Now.
Bending down, he skimmed his lips over her forehead. The caress was light, giving her the opportunity to turn away. Just because his cat was furiously trying to get close to her didn’t mean she was equally eager.
She stiffened. Was she going to shove him away?
The question was answered when she tilted her head back to give him better access. Rage didn’t hesitate. With a low growl, he covered her lips in a kiss that had nothing to do with his usual skilled seduction.
This was raw and needy and way too demanding for a first kiss.
Framing her face in his hands, Rage continued to plunder her mouth, slipping his tongue past parted lips. Oh, hell. He swallowed a moan. She tasted of spring. Sweet. Wild. Thunderously unpredictable.
She shivered against him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she tangled her tongue with his.
Rage/Killian: Bayou Heat Novellas (1001 Dark Nights Book 5) Page 2