Blue Moon Brides: The Complete Series (44 page)

His head turned, tracking the small sound from the front of the house. Not on the roof. He rose to his feet just as the bedroom door burst open.

The vampire lunged in, licking blood from its fingertips. Wolf skins hung from its bony shoulders in ragged shreds.

“Knock knock.”

~*~

The wolf fought, determined to push to the surface. Dag understood its rage, but he could protect Riley better as a man and so he wouldn’t shift. He simply embraced the wolf’s fierce protectiveness and stepped in front of Riley, putting his body between her and the vamp. He was on the killing edge. Waiting had been hell, but now he had his chance.

This was one fight he had to win.

He launched himself across the room, blades out. He’d only get one chance. Behind him, the rapid in-and-out of Riley’s breathing and her deathly stillness said she was staying put.
Good
. She was scared, but she wasn’t running. Wasn’t making herself anymore of a target for the vamp. As long as she let him handle this, everything would be okay.

But then it had to be.

His first slash met air, the vamp leaping effortlessly for the ceiling where it clung.

“You come on over here and I’ll make this easy,” the vamp offered. “You can do a little trade up.”

“Take you over him?” Riley didn’t move.
Good girl
. “No thanks. I’ll pass.”

The vamp moved across the ceiling and Dag followed. His second thrust severed tendons in the vamp’s left leg and the monster hissed.

“Going to pay for that, wolf…”

Keep her safe.
The need formed a primal beat in Dag’s head and soul. He went cold, shutting Riley out and focusing on nothing but the knife balanced in his hands. A whisper of sound alerted him and he swung, the blade cutting through skin. The vamp grunted. He’d stuck the bastard.

Better
. Behind him, Riley suddenly moved, fast and determined. Almost too late, he realized what she was going for. Her hand stretched towards the light switch by the door and he snapped his eyes closed as electric light flooded the room.

Smart girl
. The vamp shrieked, lobbing a blade at the light. The bulb broke, plunging the room into darkness, but the damage was done.

“Go,” he roared, hoping she wouldn’t hesitate. The plan had been for her to go out the window. Her brothers would be circling the yard two stories below, waiting to catch her when she let go and fell.

Dag leapt up, getting an arm around the vamp’s neck so gravity could do her thing and pull them both back down to the floor. Teeth tore at his forearm but he didn’t give a fuck. All that mattered now was yanking the head back and clearing a path for his blade. Tackling the vamp was like riding a wild bull, but he held on, legs scissored around the bastard’s waist. Got his other arm up and sawed the blade across the vamp’s throat.

And then he heard the soft pant of Riley’s breathing. Too close.
Fuck
. She’d stuck around and he’d definitely be discussing that change of heart with her later. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted her. She circled with them, blade in her hand.

The door banged open, wolves pouring in. The reinforcements were welcome, but Dag had this. Yanked back hard on the vamp’s head, until only a few tendons connected the bastard to its body.

He looked over at Riley. Her place. Her rules. “You wan’ to do the honors?”

Her eyes widened. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Stepping closer, she finished the job he’d started.

A right hook smashed into his jaw and damned if Dag didn’t see stars.

Hell.

Riley’s brother packed a mean punch.

Dag wasn’t the kind of man other men went after. He was dangerous. A predator. Right now, all he wanted was to hose off the vamp blood coating him and hightail it back to Riley. Riley’s brothers, however, clearly planned on making following her difficult. They’d surrounded him the moment he set foot in the yard after finishing the vamp inside the house.

His eyes narrowed now, considering the man advancing on him. If he hit Eli, Riley would be upset. Backing down wasn’t an option, either. He settled for wrapping his fingers around the other man’s fist when it came at him again. If he squeezed hard enough to crush human bones, that wasn’t his problem.

“You don’ wan’ to do this.”

“Hell yeah I do.” He also wanted a shower and to hold Riley in his arms for a couple of decades or so.

“You had Riley out there in the bayou with you.”

“I rescued her.”

“Says you.” Brothers two and three stepped up behind Eli. The show of family loyalty was appropriate, but frustrating. He was Riley’s family now.

“She says she got away on her own,” Jace said, crossing his arms over his chest. His mistake, Dag decided, had been in leaving Riley alone at the safe house. She’d clearly had far too much time on her hands if she’d had time for a heart-to-heart with these three.

Cruz nodded. “And then you locked her up on a boat.”

True. Riley, however, had clearly omitted certain events—like the phenomenal sex. He narrowed his eyes. “She’s my mate.”

Fuel for the fire apparently, because the brothers looked at each other and this time Dag heard knuckles cracking. The visible tension in their bodies warned him they were itching to pile on him. All they needed was the excuse.

Jace’s eyes glowed yellow. “You
forced
her to bond with you?”

He didn’t think so. “I asked.”

“A woman who was locked up on your boat.” Cruz winced. “Explain to me which part of that sounds like free will.”

“She said
yes
.”

“I don’t see a ring.”

He could buy one. Hell, he’d buy her a dozen. “I’m on it.”

Jace shook his head. “Jesus. This isn’t about purchasing a jewelry store.”

Dag wasn’t sure who threw the first punch, but it wasn’t him. He’d been holding back, knowing Riley wouldn’t like it if he started a fight with her brothers—he didn’t need to be any kind of a relationship expert to figure that out—but even she couldn’t blame him for defending himself. Could she?

The next ten minutes were a happy blur. Fists and elbows—Riley’s brothers fought dirty—as they rolled around the yard of the safe house. Despite being outnumbered three to one, he held his own. He was straddling brother number two, methodically pounding the other man’s head against the ground, when the first blast of the garden hose hit him.

The water was icy cold and Riley was merciless. She’d flicked the nozzle to jet stream and she looked like some kind of avenging Valkyrie, with her mussed-up hair, half in and half out of a pony tail. Despite—or perhaps because of—the dirt and blood on her face, he wanted to scoop her up in his arms and check her out. Kiss her everywhere and then some. The look on her face, however, promised she’d knee him in the balls if he made any kind of move in her direction.

She released her death grip on the trigger and let the hose fall by her side. “Heads up,” she said. “This testosterone fest isn’t working for me.”

Cruz flopped onto his back. “Shit, Riley.”

Dag levered to his feet. He’d definitely looked better himself. He could feel a bruise blossoming on his jaw and, thanks to Riley’s impromptu shower, mud had replaced the vamp blood he’d been sporting.

“Riley—” He got her name out before she cut him off.

She held up a hand. “No. I don’t want to hear it. You stay there. You’re drawing battle lines in my yard—so that’s your half.”

Hell. She’d fought him tooth and nail on the whole mate claim, so he liked the idea of sharing space with her. Unfortunately, now she was subdividing that space and putting him in his place. Which should have been by her side—not clear across the yard. He stared at her, wishing he could read her mind and figure out what to say.

“You lot,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing as she raked her brothers with her gaze. “I appreciate your coming. Thank you for getting my ladies out of her and thank you for kicking vampire ass.”

“And?” Eli stared at her.

“Have a safe drive home and say ‘Hi’ to Mom and Dad for me.”

“No.” Cruz was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “You’re coming back with us,
shug
.”

The hose came up again, the nozzle waving right then left as Riley punctuated her point. He had to hand it to Cruz—the other man’s eyes never left Riley’s face.

“I’m going home,” she said. “To my place.
Alone
.”

She stalked off around the house before he had a chance to ask her to stay. Or hold her or do any of the dozen things crowding his brain.

“Fuck,” he said.

“That about sums it up,” Jackson drawled from behind him. “Aren’t you supposed to be gettin’ better at this matin’ business?”

Dag turned and, sure enough, he and his new family were providing a sideshow for his Pack. Luc and Jackson were sprawled on the porch steps. He was surprised they hadn’t popped the top on a cold one or kicked back with snacks.

Jackson flashed him a grin. “She’s ours.”

“Hell, no.” She was
his
.

“You got a plan for this?” Luc sounded genuinely interested. “That’s a woman who comes with plenty of baggage.”

He could see that. Six feet times three of baggage, and that wasn’t counting her parents in upstate Louisiana.

Footsteps inside the house had them all turning to stare at the screen door.

Dag hadn’t expected more company. “You didn’t leave someone standing watch?”

Luc’s mouth twisted. “Apparently not.”

Ellie appeared at the back door. “There’s one hell of a mess upstairs,” she said. Luc opened his mouth. Closed it. “I’m not wanting to know,” she continued. “I passed Riley on my way in and she’s okay, so whatever else you all got up to here is none of my business.”

Cruz cleared his throat. “You were supposed to be safe in Baton Rouge.”

Ellie shrugged. “I’m not stupid and I’m not letting Riley face trouble on her own. I picked up a rental car and headed back.”

“Hell.” Jace stood up, patting his pocket for his car keys. “How come Riley will let Ellie help, but the rest of us get our asses handed to us for trying?”

Knowing the answer would certainly make life easier.

“Honey,” Ellie laughed, “it’s all about the asking and not the telling. Riley’s gonna do what she needs to do, but she knows I’m there for anything she needs. She’s had my back a time or two—” she gestured towards the house— “So I’m gonna be there for her.”

“You’re her Pack,” Dag said.

“Call it what you want.” Ellie didn’t look like definitions mattered much. She definitely had that backbone of steel he’d sensed earlier. When he strode up the porch steps and rapped on the screen door, she popped it open without hesitating.

She examined him from head to foot. “You’re the dog.”

How she’d pegged him for a shifter was a conversation for another day. She wasn’t screaming the roof down and she had intel he needed.

Jackson snorted behind him. “You got a secret to share?”

He eyed the woman calmly, grabbing the edge of the screen door as insurance in case she was working on a belated case of the panics. “I’m a wolf.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged and grinned. “But our Riley had you on a leash.”

She did, just not the kind Ellie meant. Ignoring the amused rumblings behind him, he leaned towards the woman. She clearly understood Riley—and had her best interests at heart. “Ellie, I need your help.”

“I’m not dragging her back.” She tugged on the screen door. “Don’t you ask me to do that.”

Smile, he thought. He should smile. Put her at her ease. Unfortunately, his social skills were still rusty. Instead of smiling, he pulled gently on the door until it popped out of her hands. Ellie dropped her hands to her hips and raised her chin.

“I need your help,” he repeated. “Findin’ a book.”

Funny to watch the sun go down and not worry about vampires attacking.

If Riley was lucky, last night’s battle had been the last. Maybe the vamp who had kidnapped her hadn’t had time to send word about the Louisiana wolf pack to the mother ship or wherever it was he’d hailed from.

Maybe.

If she was lucky.

Until the bastard’s buddies came back, however, she figured she was entitled to a little R&R. She’d defended the safe house and then she’d headed back here to her own houseboat. Dag Breaux wasn’t the only bayou shifter to invest in a little water-based real estate. The
Always Runnin’
wasn’t winning any prizes in the looks department—the boat’s paint job had expired at least three years ago, the fire engine red faded to peeling curls of silvery pink—but she was Riley’s free and clear.

Better yet, out here in the bayou, no one bitched about her posture when she slouched in her favorite lawn chair and kicked her bare feet up on the red and white cooler she’d salvaged from the bayou. Hell, she even had herself a redneck air conditioner, the battery-operated fan duct-taped to a Styrofoam cooler filled with melting bottles of Gatorade. Yeah. Cool air plus eleven more cans of Bud if she got the itch to drink.

“That’s a real classy setup.” Dag’s rough voice was almost enough to startle her upright.

She turned her head and, sure enough, the man was there in the flesh, padding up the board connecting the houseboat to the bank. On bad days, she pretended she could make uninvited guests walk the plank—or just draw the board in and declare a royal “fuck you” to the world. The houseboat’s motor ran—at a top speed of five miles an hour—so pulling triumphantly away remained an option.

But God, Dag was gorgeous. And he’d brought more beer, a pair of longnecks cradled in his right hand. A frivolous polka-dotted gift bag dangled from his other hand. Something turned over in her stomach and it had nothing, she told herself, to do with the blue jeans low on his gorgeous hips. He hadn’t bothered with a T-shirt so all those cut muscles were on display and definitely look-worthy. She stared as a bead of sweat trickled down, teasing her. If he came any closer, she’d be demanding to lick him.

“Permission to come aboard?”

She shouldn’t. It had been twelve hours, give or take, since she’d seen him last and those hours were nowhere near enough to put out the fire he seemed to wake in her.

“I never turn away guests bearing beer.” She waved a hand towards the matching lawn chair. “Got a throne and all for you.”

He grunted and made for her, not the chair. Figured. His leg brushed her shoulder, but all he did was hand her a beer. Metal scraped as he swung the empty chair around so he was face-to-face with her when he dropped down into the seat, his bare feet tangled with hers.

Reaching forward, he tapped his bottle against hers. “Cheers.”

Sunset flooded her view of the bayou with color. The air was still hot as hell too. When she’d worked up the energy, she’d been planning on a swim. She had no idea what Dag intended.

“Thanks,” she said, not sure what to say to him. What
he
wanted.

“Well, hell,
boo
,” he drawled. “You do know how to say “thank you.””

She flushed, remembering the last time he’d demanded those words from her. “I’ve got manners.”

He grinned. “There’s only one place I’ve heard you say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’”

“What are you doing here, Dag?” She leaned her head back, her eyes drifting shut. She’d ask straight up and hear what he had to say. Her heart pounded, hoping things her head pooh-poohed. Maybe this was mate business—which she liked more than she should let on—or maybe he was just jonesing for more sex. Or he had a spare beer to unload. Hell if she knew what he thought half the time.

He sidestepped her question. “I met your brothers. They were concerned. They weren’t sure I was good for you.”

“Newsflash.” The setting sun warmed her face and swimming sounded better and better. Maybe she could swim all the way to China. “Those are my brothers you met—not my keepers. They just like to think they’re in charge. Remind you of someone else?”

His rusty chuckle had her turning and looking at him. Hell. He
could
laugh. He made her smile and laugh, rage and lust, so why did she only seem to make him go one speed?

“Yeah,
boo
. I got the memo.”

“And yet here you are.”

“I was thinkin’ we could do some talkin’.”

“About?”

He took a swig of his beer, set the bottle down on the deck. Leaning forward, he looked her in the eye. “Us,” he said. “Bein’ mates. Livin’ happily ever after.”

~*~

Riley shot upright in her chair. Conveniently, he’d trapped her in place. Unless she tipped the chair or decided to climb over his lap, she stayed put. She glared at him, her brown eyes snapping with anger and something else. He inched forward, just in case she made a run for it after all.

Her hands slapped his knees and she made a noise of pure frustration. “You showed up and brought a goddamned vampire to the party. That’s a week of my life I’m not getting back. Ameline is dead.”

He’d hoped they were past that. What was the saying about fools and hope? Wrapping an arm around her waist, scooping her up into his arms and taking her inside the houseboat—where he’d bet she had a bed—was far too tempting. He’d seen her naked, but he’d never seen the purple bikini top. The silky cups scooped her breasts up into delicious mounds and he wanted to place his mouth right
there
in the shadowy vee and then kiss her and kiss her until she forgot all about fighting with him.

“Dag?” She snapped his name. Yeah. She was waiting for an answer and he was staring at her breasts. Irritation surged through him. She’d looked real comfortable right up until he’d shown up. Which was too damned bad. They did have unfinished business.

“It’s too damn late for regrets,” he growled right back. “I’m real sorry about Ameline, but there’s no bringin’ her back. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten on Mary Jane’s boat.”

“How is this my fault?” She stared at him, clearly incredulous. “Needing to earn a living isn’t an invitation to have my life invaded. First Dre and Landry, now you.”

“Wait until you meet the rest of us.” Heads-upping her about the baggage he traveled with was probably smart, but it was only part of what he needed to tell her.
Discuss
, he reminded himself. Not tell. He was a reformed man.

Mostly.

“Right.” She pursed her lips, glaring at him. “There’s a vast quantity of you Breauxs hiding out in the bayou. Have you invited everyone to this mating shindig of yours?”

Or maybe not at all, although he’d do his best to pretend, because right now he wanted to kiss the snark right off her pretty mouth.

“Not yet,” he drawled. “But they’re goin’ to be your
famille
. You should be more welcomin’.”

She shot him the bird. Yeah. She definitely needed taking in hand. Fortunately, he was just the man to do it.

“I’ve got family,” she countered.

“Now you’ve got more.”

Her bark of laughter was a surprise. “There’s definitely too much of a good thing, Dag.”

Too much alone time, too much what? She had to be the most stubborn woman he’d ever met. Granted, he hadn’t been burning up the dating circuit. His relationships—which weren’t relationships by Riley’s standards—were all get in, get out. A little sex and human contact. With Riley, he wanted more. No. He
needed
more. He didn’t want to be anywhere but at her side, but he hadn’t convinced her to stay.

Okay. He hadn’t
asked
. He’d done that telling thing she complained about. She was a woman working in a man’s world and he was likely worse than any alpha he’d ever met. He was a lone wolf with a need to dominate so deep that it wasn’t even a conscious choice anymore.

Ellie had warned him that Riley would be difficult.

She’d also mentioned begging and he’d been skeptical.

Now, staring into Riley’s cross eyes, he knew he’d do whatever it took—up to and including begging.

“I warned you. I’ll be keepin’ you.”

~*~

God. Dag Breaux was irritating.

Not to mention sexy with a side of sweet.

Like hell
. Play defense, she reminded herself. Chest-thumping declarations not included, you don’t know why he’s come here. “What century were you born in? Because, breaking news here, bayou boy, but keeping women is so passé.”

His big hand tightened on her knees. “You could try keepin’ me. I got a book.”

She blinked. “Congratulations. Reading’s a good thing.”

“No,” he growled, frustrated. “I got a
book
. The kind you wanted, about sex and kissin’. You said I needed work. So I’ll work.”

Her eyes widened and, damn it, she could feel
things
inside her melting. “Oh.”

“I’m thinkin’ we could work through it together.” He reached down and snagged the polka-dot gift bag from the deck. “Here.”

Oh. God. Her hands weren’t trembling when she took the bag from him. They
weren’t
. She pushed through the burst of lime-green tissue paper and, yeah, he’d brought her a book. A book about sex and relationships. The pages bristled with little pink Post-It notes.

“I read ahead,” he said gruffly. “And marked a few places I thought you might like.”

She definitely had a lump in her throat, which was a problem, because she really needed to say something right now. Instead, her fingers tightened around the book, holding it close.

“I love you.” He said the words, low and rough, but she heard them clear to her heart.

Wait. Rewind.

“Really?” She needed to be closer, so she climbed over onto his lap. His arms came around her and it didn’t matter that lawn chairs weren’t built for two or that the metal arms were digging into his legs.

“You bet,
boo.”
His mouth nips hers, bright sting of pleasure-pain. “My kind, we spend a lifetime waitin’ for a blue moon, so we can get on with the important business in life. Huntin’. Matin’. When that moon lit you up, I felt somethin’.”

She cupped his jaw in her hand, savoring the rough stubble and the sensual bite against her palm that was so like her man himself. “You wanted me.”

He didn’t look away. “
Oui
. You made me feel,
boo
. For the first time in decades, I felt somethin’ besides the wolf in me. I was all empty, runnin’ on instinct and then you showed up and showed me how things could be. How could I not want to make you mine?”

She pressed a kiss against his jaw. “I’m listening.”

“But then you made me chase you,” he growled, “and I liked that too,
boo
. Hell, yeah, I liked that.”

That made two of them, because she had fond memories of his
huntin’
.

“And in chasin’ you, I found so much more than a convenient mate. I found you, Riley.” His arms tighten around her, dragging her against his chest until he could bury his face in her hair, rub his cheek against the side of her neck. “You let me get to know you and I
liked
you. The feelin’ was somethin’ new for me. And then that likin’ became something more because I love you. And so I was thinkin’ we could do this thing together.”

There was a crack as the lawn chair gave way beneath their combined weights. He landed flat on his back on the deck, but his hands cradled her the whole way down. She couldn’t quite hide her laughter. Undone by ancient webbing and too much shifter.

“This,” she informed him, “might be part of my secret plot to have you at my mercy.” Since she had him stretched out beneath him, she hugged his hips with her legs and captured his hands with her own. She had a point to make here too.

“Mine,” she said fiercely. “You’re mine, Dag Breaux.”

“Have been for a while,” he agreed. “I guess that makes you Mrs. Breaux.”

“Are you proposing to me flat on your back?”

He smiled. “You goin’ to let me up? Or tell me you love me back?”

She pretended to think about it—the way her legs straddled his hips, she could feel his dick pushing at those barely there jeans of his. “Not a chance in hell on the getting up part. But yeah, I love you.”

He grunted. “Put your hand in my front pocket.”

She rocked against his erection. Yep. The sensation felt every bit as good as she remembered. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Just do it,
boo
.”

She fished in his front pocket, deliberately prolonging the moment, but the pocket wasn’t big and there definitely wasn’t room for searching. He groaned and she ran her fingers over the hard length of his dick through the pocket before wrapping her fingers around a small box. When she pulled it out, her heart about stopped. A little, square, black velvet box the perfect size for a ring. She thumbed the top open, finger shaking, and the beautiful, sparkly, couldn’t-really-be-here diamond ring winked up at her. Oh. God. He’d come here for more than sex or company. He’d definitely come here for
her
.