by Elle Thorne
“Are you okay?” Kait’s eyes widened. “You’re pale.”
Evie glanced out the window, watched the scenery go by, but didn’t process it. Fields, marshes, flatland, it all looked the same. She bit her lower lip, chewed on it, then tasted blood.
“Oh, my.” Of course Kait had scented Evie’s bloody lip. She was a shifter too, after all.
Kait put a hand over Evie’s shoulder, a tissue caught between her fingers. “Use this. Staunch that. Every shifter on here will know what’s going on if you don’t get control. Your pulse, your scent, the blood.” Kait’s voice broke slightly. “Oh, Evie, I had no idea you hadn’t moved on.”
How the hell can I move on? I can’t even think of anything else but him.
Except now her memories of Mason were overshadowed by one solitary heartbreaking image.
“Cassidy’s probably wondering if I’m coming back. Hang out with you at the haunted mansion?”
“I didn’t know your sister was with you.” Evie hadn’t seen Cassidy in years. “Sure. We’ll catch up later.”
Her mind wandered as the countryside slid by.
Memories of that time filled her mind. There’d been nothing else that mattered to her the way Mason did. Until he’d shattered her heart, and with it, her entire world. A bolt of pain perforated her heart. She couldn’t get over him. She’d never get over him.
And she’d never love another man. She was over it.
Over men.
She closed her eyes against the pain and thought of their first time together at Escape Weekend.
Chapter Three
Several years ago…
Lézare had met Evie and Mason at the front door as they’d pulled up. Alexa wasn’t far behind him, a warm smile on her face.
Lézare greeted Mason with a handshake while Evie hugged Alexa.
“Did we get the cabin?” She’d requested a cabin away from the main building. Half her ancestors had lived in those cabins as slaves. The other half had lived in the main house, all culminating in the four Arceneaux siblings that remained. The last of the Arceneaux, or at least, bearing the name Arceneaux, as far as she knew.
Lézare nodded. “Yeah.” Then he shook his head.
Evie knew why her big brother was doing that. He’d stayed in one of the cabins when he was younger. Just once. Their grandfather had taken him down before an Escape Weekend.
That was Lézare’s first and last stay in the cabin. And he’d never told her why he didn’t stay there again, but she’d heard Maylene telling someone that he’d seen something that scared him.
Evie couldn’t imagine anything scaring her big brother. Tough, muscular, and adored by females, feared by his enemies. She doubted he was scared, but then again, who knew what he’d seen down there. She’d heard the cabins were haunted.
If they are, then we’d have no need to go to haunted mansions, would we?
Evie loved staying in the cabins. Something about the primitive nature of the tiny abodes brought her closer to her roots. It made her think of Étienne and thinking of him always made a flush of comforting warmth pass through her body, as if her great-great-grandfather were there, protecting her.
She grabbed Mason’s hand. “Let’s go. I can’t wait to show you the cabins!”
He glanced back. “The bags?”
“Alexa will see to them. They’ll be taken in or brought down.”
“Don’t you want to use a golf cart?” Lézare asked.
They were already halfway down the tall staircase that led from the driveway to the front door.
“No.” Joyous laughter bubbled forth. She was home. She loved coming home. Loved this place more than any of her sisters, she was sure. She loved the history, loved the tradition and culture as much as her brother did.
They ran off the driveway onto the paths that led to the cabins, a good distance walk, in this case, run from the main house.
The paths weren’t much more than footpaths, some barely wide enough for a golf cart, many not.
“Slow down,” Mason tugged her back, pulling her behind a tree.
Breathless from running and sheer exhilaration, she gasped for air. Mason was smiling at her, patient, used to her passion and bursts of energy. He’d teased her about it often enough, but always in a nice way.
He pressed her against a tree, the rough bark biting into the flesh through her top. The slight discomfort from the tree was eclipsed the moment an amber glow flashed through Mason’s dark eyes. His nostrils flared, his pupils dilated, and damn if her body didn’t jump to attention.
His body was hard on hers. A growl rumbled in his chest, his lion calling out to her tigress. In her mind, her tigress chuffed, replying to his lion, knowing they could hear one another.
She nuzzled his chin, tucking her head against his chest. Mason’s breath tickled the tiny hairs at her temple as he lowered his face.
Her blood rushed through her body at breakneck speed in response to his closeness and the scent of his arousal. Her core clenched, her thighs squeezing together, throbbing where they met.
Evie gasped. “God. How do you get me this way?”
More nostril flaring as he sucked air in. “I fucking love the way you smell. It’s just like the way you taste.”
That did it. Her body flooded with desire for him, pooling between her legs, shallowing her breathing, making life seem like it had narrowed to one focal point, and it centered on them. There was nothing around but the sounds of the woods and the simultaneous beating of their hearts.
His fingers traced the hemline of her off-the-shoulder top. She held her breath as he approached the swell of her breasts. She swore her nipples jumped to attention, as if reaching for him. The pebbled tips pushed against her bra, pressing against his chest.
His lips were so close to hers, she could feel the heat emanating, the warmth of his breath on her cheek.
She raised her gaze to his eyes. They’d grown darker, almost black with passion.
“I want you. God, Mason. I need you.” She let the words out because keeping them pent up was sheer torture, just as not having him was.
“Show me.” His words were a teasing taunt, but the hardness pressed against her hip was far from teasing and had everything to do with teasing.
Her body arched forward, almost grinding against that stiff, thick length.
He groaned the third time she ground into him, grabbed her ass and pulled her to him.
“You want me.” He stated it. And it was fact. From the tips of her toes, to her beating heart, her pulsing pussy, her tigress… every bit of her wanted all of him.
The same way she knew he wanted her.
He lowered himself, until he was half-kneeling in front of her, his hands on her skirt. Taking the hem between his fingertips, he raised it, slowing revealing her legs, then her thighs, then her panties.
She sucked a breath in at having her body on display in broad daylight. She spent way too much time worrying about her body, and she knew it.
“Fucking beautiful.”
And when he said things like that, she knew she was perfect for him. Made for him.
She held her breath when his fingers made the round, touching her skin, skimming the elastic of her panties, from her waist, her hips, then along her thighs, teasing her flesh, making her want to beg him to breach the boundaries of her panties, to take what was inside.
“I need you.” He growled, hard. His tone betrayed that his lion was fully present.
She heard a tiny sound, the smallest of creaks, then looked down. One claw had erupted, and razor sharp, it slit the satin panties on each side of her hips. The fabric dropped, useless, trapped between her legs.
Mason leaned in, buried his face against the strip she’d left this morning when she’d ‘scaped her girl parts.
He looked up at her, his face against her, his breath hot on her.
Fuck, it felt like her pussy was on fire, clenching and convulsing for him.
He pulled back and ran hi
s tongue over his lips.
Oh damn. She almost fainted with desire. Legs as if made of jelly, she leaned against the tree’s trunk, oblivious to the splinters that wanted to implant themselves in her skin.
She lost it the second time he licked his lips. Her body bowed forward, begging, needing, wanting.
She buried her nails in his hair, scoring his flesh, pulling on his hair, bringing him closer to the target she wanted him to take.
Golden flakes flashed in his eyes, his lion roared, the sound clear to her and her tigress.
“Your body’s begging for me.” He pushed her knees apart slightly.
She started to slide downward, wanting to lay on the ground, spread her legs wide so he could feast on her.
“Nah, beautiful. I want you to stand while I taste that sweet stuff. I want to fuck you with my tongue while you grind yourself against my face.”
Oh. My. Fuck.
Her mouth had gone dry. She tried to build saliva to swallow so she could talk.
“Do it. God. Mason. Do it.”
She wasn’t sure she was making sense. Nothing mattered but the buzzing desire she had. For him to have her. To take her. Own her. Claim her.
The image in her mind was vivid—him licking her, flicking his tongue over her sensitive bud, sucking and teasing her folds.
She opened her legs, no need for prompting, and held onto his shoulders for support. His fingers spread her wide. He studied her, right there, on display for his viewing pleasure.
“Luscious,” he murmured.
Evie held her breath when his tongue slid out. She flinched when it alit on her clit with the tiniest of flicks. Then he began that up and down flicking thing he did. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She pushed on his shoulders, then pulled, her body reacting to each flick, each lick as if a live electrical wire had been placed on that most sensitive part of her.
“Oh. God,” she panted, the words barely recognizable. “Mason. No. Yes. No.”
She watched his tongue and lips while he voraciously feasted on her. He looked up, locked eyes with her.
“Make up your mind. Yes? Or no?” He plunged two fingers into her and curled them like he knew how, then began to drive in and out at a furious pace, the whole time, watching her with that piercing gaze while his face was wet and glistening with her essence.
God, I love you. “Yes. God. Yes! Now.”
She’d not even finished her sentence when she lost control and spun into another dimension, one where her body folded in half in the middle of a monster orgasm, aftershock following aftershock while she fought to catch her breath.
She leaned on him, then slowly began a slide down the tree, grimacing as rough wood chafed and tried to embed in her skin.
“Whoa. You’ll hurt yourself.” He leapt to a stand and pulled her away from the tree, holding her up, giving her the support her jelly-legs needed.
“That was…” She breathed in deeply. “Magnificent.”
“You’re magnificent.” He put his fingers in his mouth and sucked.
“Oh.” Shit. “You’re going to make me want you again.”
“You’re getting me, as soon as we get inside.” He snatched her useless panties from the ground and shoved them in his pocket. “Let’s get to our cabin.”
“Just a few yards away.” Heat rose to her cheeks when she realized… “Mason. Anyone could have caught us.”
“I know. Makes it better doesn’t it. You don’t think they’d be able to sneak up on us, do you? Not with my hearing.”
True, Mason’s hearing was phenomenal. Shifters had supernatural senses, but Mason’s hearing exceeded anyone’s she’d ever met.
Fewer than five minutes later, they were standing outside the cabin, a wood cottage, not much larger than a single bedroom.
Evie tried the door.
“Fuck,” she uttered the word under her breath.
“What’s up?”
“I forgot the damned key. I can’t go back like this and get it. I smell like sex.”
“You smell like deliciousness,” he corrected her.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to advertise what we’ve been up to in the woods.”
“Want me to go back and get it?”
“No! Your face! It’s…” More heat traveled to her cheeks at the idea that Lézare or Alexa would know. “It’s obvious what you’ve been doing.”
He leaned against the roughhewn wood cabin. “If I do something. Do you promise not to ask any questions?”
Mysterious.
“That’s not fair—to ask a question like that and to expect me to just grant you total liberties.”
She’d thought they were close. She didn’t think Mason had any secrets from her.
“Just say yes.”
“I say maybe.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Trust me.” He leaned in, his lips rested on hers briefly.
She inhaled, taking in her own scent still on his face, still on his lips.
How can I not trust him? I should trust him.
They’d discussed couplebonding, and both of them were open to it. That should mean something.
“Maybe.” She still wasn’t ready to give in fully.
He leaned back. “Maybe?” He crossed his own arms over his chest.
“Fine. Whatever.”
He nodded and reached into his back pocket, pulled out a black rectangular leather item. Like a wallet, but skinnier. He flipped it open like a book, a took a tiny tool out then another.
“What?” She’d seen enough movies to know what that was. Especially when he lowered himself and slipped it into the lock.
He put his finger over his lips, softly let out a short, “Shhh.”
“What are you doing with that?”
“Misspent youth.”
He rose, turned the knob, the door opened.
“I’ll say. Wh—” she started to ask.
“No questions.”
She looked at the tiny implements in his hand, saw etched writing on the side. “Can I see?”
He cocked his head to the right, his dark gaze full of intrigue.
“Please?”
Mason handed one to her.
Evie turned the tool over in her hand. She read it out loud. “I quit.” She studied his unapproachable expression. “Can I ask what I quit means or does that fall under the purview of no questions?”
His smile was crooked. “It is a question.”
Evie stomped her foot. “Don’t get picky with me, Mason Martinez.”
A chuckle slipped out, his eyes twinkling with mirth. He kissed the tip of her nose. “It means I won’t use those tools anymore. Not for what I used to use them for.”
She nodded and walked inside. She wanted to fume. Couples didn’t have secrets. They shouldn’t. Not when they’d already said they wanted to couplebond.
Her tigress picked it up first. Emotions in the air. She scented them, snarled, then made a low moaning growl—one of sadness.
The door closed soundly behind her. Clearly he wasn’t happy either. His hand was firm on her shoulder, he turned her around, not roughly, but just enough to get her attention.
His face was a grimace of pain that was barely kept in check.
Evie wrapped her arms around his waist and put her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling waves of his pain as they emanated from him.
“What is it?”
“My best friend died the last time I used those for the wrong reasons. I made a vow then, and had “I quit” put on there. It’s the last thing I said to him. The last thing he asked me for before he died, right next to me, in a filthy building, in a place we had no business being in.”
“You still carry them…”
“As a reminder. For him. For what I’ll never be again.”
Evie held him as tightly as she could, wishing she could take his pain from him, wishing she could make it better. It meant a lot that he trusted her with this.
Trust.
* * *
Evie studied the landscape as the charter bus kept rolling. That day in the cabin seemed so long ago.
And trust…
Trust was now broken between them.
Completely broken.
A tear broke through her dammed emotions, then another, as she wept silent tears.
Chapter Four
Mason Martinez wasn’t small, not by any stretch of the imagination.
He was a lion shifter, large, dark, and some thought, imposing in a scary kind of way. Not that he got it. He didn’t think he was all that scary—usually.
He was brother to Mark, both were of the Martinez shifters from Florida via Puerto Rico. The remainder of their family were mostly in Spain.
And though he wasn’t a diminutive man, trying to slink down in a bus seat so Evangeline Arceneaux wouldn’t notice he was hard as hell. He practically had to fold himself in half to keep her from seeing him when she scanned the bus for an empty seat.
She’d seemed forlorn, her sunglasses and a big ass floppy hat hiding her face.
Oh, Mason had been told not to be on the bus. Mark had made it a point to seek him out and tell him that Evie was helping Alexa by hosting the bus tour, and that he was not to be on there.
Yeah, right.
He studied her. Her white top was damp from the humidity and the heat. It was practically plastered to her skin, showing off the curves he’d loved too damned much.
He swore under his breath.
Showing off those curves that should belong to him to all the males on the bus.
He couldn’t see past her upper half, his view was blocked by the bus seats’ tall backs, but he knew what fell below the waist. Luscious thighs, a waist that tapered inward rising to her full breasts. Curves and flesh he’d loved, licked, sucked, bit in the heat of passion.
He’d loved her curves. Every inch of them custom created for Mason. They fit better than a key in a custom-made lock. Her body, her flesh, every part of her was made for him. He’d done everything with that body, but couplebond.
He cursed the fact he’d never sealed the deal and taken her as his forever mate.
Of course, Mason was on the bus. As if Mark could have stopped him. As if heaven and earth or any other force could have stopped him from getting on this bus.