Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter series Book 7)

by Singh, Nalini

  Of particular help were Louisiana State University’s Cajun French–English glossary, Learn Louisiana French’s list of proverbs and sayings, LouisianaCajunSlang.com’s list of expressions, and Clarence’s list of Cajun Cuss Words on CajunRadio.org. (Be careful when speaking French in Louisiana! Some words that wouldn’t be considered rude in France will be in Louisiana, and vice versa.)

  My thanks also to Laura Florand for help with standard French terms.

  Last but never least, I’d like to thank my readers, many of whom pointed me in the direction of various resources when I posted the research request online. You are awesome covered in awesome-sauce.

  Any errors in the language or its usage are, of course, mine. I also admit to a bit of artistic license in using terms and phrases originating from a number of different regions within Louisiana. I figure a vampire who has lived over two centuries would have traveled and picked up bits and pieces here and there (maybe from other immortals and near-immortals!).

  Before I go, I’d like to make a note about the use of the word cher. It is sometimes believed that this is an incorrect usage of the word chère. However, cher (pronounced sha) is part of the Cajun French language. It is a fluid word whose meaning can change in context or with the tone of the speaker. When it comes to Janvier, he only ever uses it with Ashwini, no one else. It is very much a term of affection, of love for his one and only Ashblade.

  Turn the page to read an excerpt from Nalini’s novella

  Secrets at Midnight

  Available November 25, 2014, in the anthology Night Shift.

  And in summer 2015, look out for the next book in Nalini’s extraordinary Psy-Changeling series, followed by the next Guild Hunter adventure later in the year.

  In the meantime, Nalini invites you to visit her website and join her newsletter for free short stories as well as exclusive sneak peeks.

  Vivid green eyes watched her with an unwavering focus that raised the tiny hairs on Kirby’s arms, made her stomach go tight, a strange breathlessness in her chest. She didn’t recognize the tall, muscled male with skin tanned a beautiful gold, but he had to be part of the DarkRiver leopard pack—there was something feline about the way he stood, a stealthy predator at rest. She had the insane urge to go up to him, touch him, curl up naked against him, skin to skin.

  The wild, uncharacteristic thought snapped Kirby back to her senses, and all at once, she was aware of Vera looking at her quizzically. Not sure how long she’d been staring at the stranger, she held up the small white box in her arms and said, “I baked yesterday,” even as her pulse thudded hard and rapid against her skin. “I thought I’d drop off half the cake for you, since I know you like black forest.”

  “I like black forest, too.” A deep male voice that brushed over her senses like fur, the lips that shaped the words curved in a teasing smile, until she could almost believe she’d imagined the feral intensity of him when he’d first looked at her.

  Tapping her cane on the ground, Vera looked up into that green-eyed face that had twisted Kirby’s insides into a tangled snarl. “I suppose you want some?”

  “Yes, please.” Hands behind his back, expression as innocent as a five-year-old’s.

  Snorting, Vera jerked her head toward Kirby. “This is Bastien. Don’t let him charm you—next thing you know, you’ll be naked.”

  Kirby’s face filled with heat, burning her skin, the rush of blood so loud in her ears that she almost missed Bastien’s protests. Ignoring them both, Vera walked toward her door at a spry pace, a grace to her movements even at this age that made it clear she was changeling. Not able to look Bastien in the face when her own was no doubt the color of an overripe tomato, Kirby began to follow . . . and realized she’d acquired a six-foot-plus shadow.

  “I feel I have to defend myself,” he murmured, the words a purr of sound against her ears.

  “Really?” she managed to say, the scent of clean, fresh soap and warm-blooded male in her every breath. “You don’t like making women naked?” It was a response driven by some hereto hidden part of her that told her to show him her claws . . . despite the fact she was human, didn’t have claws. No matter if it felt as if the tips were shoving against her skin.

  A pause.

  Kirby had the feeling she’d surprised him, but he recovered quickly. “Oh, I do.” His voice had dropped, acquired a rougher edge. “However, and despite Vera’s refusal to believe me, I’m very particular about who I make naked now that I’m no longer a hormone-driven teenager. Of course, when I was a teenager, a naked woman would’ve ended things rather abruptly, biologically speaking.”

  Skin burning again when it had just settled, Kirby nonetheless refused to back down. “I hope your ability to stand . . . firm”—Was she really saying this?—“against temptation has improved with time?” She’d never flirted this way, hadn’t known she could.

  A hand on her lower back, his breath warm against her earlobe as he bent close to say, “You have no idea, little cat.”

  Fighting the shiver that threatened, she walked into Vera’s house and to the kitchen, where she placed the cake on the counter, and said, “I’ll make the coffee.”

  It gave her something to do, though if she’d thought it’d help her ignore Bastien, that proved a futile effort. Sprawled in a chair at the kitchen table opposite Vera, he was saying something that had the older woman laughing.

  “Why are you dressed up so spiffy?” Vera asked once her laughter had faded, lifting her fashionable but unnecessary cane to tap Bastien’s forearm. “Was it for the girl selection?”

  Bastien dropped his head in his hands, the stunning dark red of his hair catching the sunlight pouring through the kitchen windows, all of which overlooked woods filled with tall green firs. His white shirt was pulled taut over his shoulders in this position, his strength apparent. “I thought Mom needed my help with the furniture,” he growled when he raised his head. “If I’d known it was about matchmaking, I’d have worn my rattiest jeans and a stained T-shirt.”

  Ears straining to hear every word, Kirby found the cups as the coffee began to percolate.

  “Your mother loves you.” Vera glared at Bastien. “You’re in fine form, prime of your life, should find a girl before you get old and crinkly.”

  “Gee, thanks, Vera.” A masculine mutter as he leaned back again, one arm braced lazily against the back of his chair, his big body loose limbed, very much a cat at rest. “I was hoping I had a few more years yet.”

  Vera’s response was a grin bright and full of anticipation. “I’ll enjoy watching you fall, Bastien Smith. I bet she wraps you around her finger.”

  A shrug, those broad shoulders catching Kirby’s attention again. “Of course she will.” Impossible as it was, it felt as if his voice was pitched to stroke over Kirby’s senses. “What would be the point otherwise?”

  Vera’s smile turned affectionate. “I’m glad to see you understand that.” Glancing up as Kirby brought across the tray holding the coffee, Vera’s expression softened. “And you, Kirby?” She tugged Kirby into a seat. “Have you found someone yet?”

  “I’ve only been in the city two weeks,” she said, conscious of Bastien going preternaturally still for a single, taut moment, the green of his eyes no longer human, before he rose to get the cake.

  “From the accent,” he said, “I’m guessing . . . Georgia?”

  Kirby nodded, happy he’d changed the subject, but Vera wasn’t done.

  “Two weeks, schmoo weeks. It’s never too early to start looking.” The older woman’s eyes glinted, flicking from Kirby to Bastien. “You two would make pretty cubs together.”

  Kirby wanted to die. Dig a hole, jump inside, bury herself for good measure.

  Bastien, on the other hand, served up the cake without missing a beat, his body heat lapping against her like a tactile caress where he stood between her and Vera. “Undoubtedly,�
� he said, “but not if you terrify Kirby away with warnings about the likelihood of ending up naked while with me.”

  Kirby responded in pure self-defense, driven by that strangeness in her that said she couldn’t permit him to overwhelm her. Not now, not ever. She might not be a dominant, but it was critical he didn’t see her as weak. “That likelihood is getting less and less with every word you speak,” she said, ignoring the strange thoughts in her head, the continuing stinging in her fingertips.

  Laughing, Vera slapped her hand against the table as Bastien took his seat with a meek expression belied by the fact he’d shifted his chair so his thigh pressed against Kirby’s. It incited an escalation in her clawing awareness of him, her skin prickling in a way that felt as if it came from inside and out both. Almost as if she had a leopard under her skin, too, one that was rubbing up against it in an effort to get closer to this gorgeous cat who made her nerve endings go haywire.

  Shaking off the odd sensation, she focused on his conversation with Vera. Intelligent, witty, a little bit wicked, Bastien was definitely the kind of man who’d never have trouble attracting a woman. Kirby was far from immune. If she was brutally honest, she’d never reacted to anyone as she’d done to Bastien.

  That raw wave of need, of want, at the start, followed by an increasing desire to know more about him, know everything . . . It was unsettling. As was the tearing disappointment that had her nails digging into her palms when he glanced at his watch and said, “I’d better get into the office. With the instability caused by the Psy political situation, I have to keep an extra-sharp eye on things.”

  “All work and no play.” Vera shook her head as Kirby stared deliberately into her half-empty coffee cup in an effort to hide her disturbing reaction, her skin flushing alternately hot then cold. “Be careful you don’t become a dull boy.”

  “I thought I was making women naked on a regular basis?” Rising with that quip, Bastien went around to kiss Vera on the cheek. “Can I give you a ride anywhere, Kirby?” he asked, his hand on the back of her chair.

  Scared by how much she wanted to lean back, rub her cheek against his arm, tug him down to her mouth, she shook her head.

  “Don’t be silly,” Vera said. “You haven’t got a car.”

  Her fingers flexed, the tingling in her fingertips increasing in strength. “It’s no trouble to catch the—”

  Bastien’s breath whispered hot and silken over her ear, his face a caress away from her own. “I promise I don’t bite.” It was a dare.