Louisiana Moon (4 page)

What would he have to do to get her to have dinner with him? A low rumble, not a growl, came from her. He held back a smile as her stomach betrayed her. No way could she deny her hunger.

“I hope he shoved it hard and deep.” She blew at a brown curl lying on her cheek. Sweat glistened on her upper lip.

Ryant arched a brow. “That’s a wicked tongue you’ve got there, Kris.” He imagined better ways for the use of that tongue of hers…on his dick, for starters.

His fingers untwisted when he reached for the bread loaf in the center of the table. Wanting to mend their broken past, he hoped this night would be a start. He tore the bread in half and buttered a piece. As he placed the chunk on her plate, he gestured toward the seat.

Kris’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you need to get back to your loyal servants? I mean, they’ll miss you, right?” A new emotion plowed into his chest like a steel fist. Distrust. He stroked his chin.

“The Coven can wait. I have other nights I can catch up with them. Tonight, I’m here with you and only you.” He kept his voice low, smooth as silver mercury.

Candle flames danced, reflecting across the glossy tabletop. Pulling the warmth of the fire inside, he willed a soothing caress of power in her direction to melt the tension. Would she accept?

One of her hands covered the vine-twisted gun handle. Fingers clenched and released. When she withdrew the weapon and pointed the barrel at his head, shock widened his eyes. Then she pulled back the hammer, and he lost his breath. Would she pull the trigger to prove a point?

Her hand trembled. She lowered the hammer into place.

Relief dropped his shoulders and quieted his racing heart.

“I don’t trust you. I don’t like you. I hate you, as a matter-of-fact. I’m hungry, and since you’ve already laid out food, I’m going to eat.” She edged forward, the fabric of her slacks taut over muscled thighs. Before she moved the plate he’d set out, she placed the gun on the table, barrel pointing his way. He eyed the weapon as Kris used her free hand to scoop up the food.

Holding the plate filled with greens, carrots and red skinned-potatoes with one hand, she licked the fingers of her other hand clean. As she sat opposite, watching him as she placed greens on the bread, and without breaking eye contact, she ate. White teeth flashed as she bit into the crunchy, buttery chunk he’d perfected for her. As she did, a small moan of gratitude slipped free.

He smiled. He loved her subtle submission…loved when she gave in to her needs, whether it was food or his caresses.

“Do you like the flavors? I hope you do. Over the years, I’ve taught myself to prepare the foods you enjoy.” He grinned.

Even being the only vegan wolf he knew, she never succeeded one hundred percent, as the beast needed appeasing once in a blue moon. In a simpler time, she didn’t deny the nature of the beast, once preferring rare steaks and fresh alligator. Tonight he wanted to please
her
with his dinner. Not the beast.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she continued to chew the delicate morsels. Her shoulders relaxed, jaw slowing. He chuckled. “Woman, you’re a piece of work. Do you realize that?”

The candle’s flame reflected in her almond-shaped eyes. Her lips, a luscious pair of ripe peaches to nibble on, begged for attention. He craved their flavor again. Grew harder each time she sucked her fingers clean. Every movement turned him on.

“Stop staring at me,” she mumbled.

“How can I? You keep teasing me.”

“No. I don’t.”

Why did she insist she didn’t tempt him? They had always bickered over the subject in the past. He wanted those sweet lips sucking his fingers, his cock. Ryant never understood his lust for her.

He let the topic drop. “In all seriousness, I need you to help me track down a man who holds information leading to a great disruption in the Darkworld.”

“Like what?”

“He plans to rise to the top of the food chain, so to speak, to take a seat on the Throne. He’s enlisted the aid of the Soulscapes.”

“The demons are locked away.”

“Not anymore.”

Color drained from her face.

Ryant held out his hand, palm up. “I’ll protect you, Kris, like I always have.”

“Protect me? Protect me how, Ryant? Like you did the night my parents died? You didn’t give a damn what happened to them. You dismissed their killing. Why would you care about me?” She glared her intense hatred. Hurt. Tears formed.

“You’re aware of the prophecy. We’re meant to be together. Our bloodlines are meant to mix.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry about their deaths. I cared for your parents, and I didn’t dismiss their killing. I looked into it and found that the Hunters were not responsible either. I smelled charcoal. I told you this and you choose not to believe it. I still care for you and right now I also fear for your life.”

Silence filled the space between them. She continued to eat even as her eyes filled with tears. One slid down her cheek until she swiped the residue away. “Who is this supposed person?”

Relieved to be on the main topic of the evening, he exhaled. “He’s a man I used to trust.”

“You, trust? Right.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Kris? I’m trying to get you to help me. I’m trying to protect you. And you’re acting a fool. It’s been years since I’ve seen you. Though it feels like yesterday,” he muttered the last sentence.

He wished the difficulties in their past had never happened. Ryant had done his best to comfort her when she grieved from her parents’ loss, but the damned beast clouded her judgment with rage.

“Try decades. And I could go a lot longer without seeing you.”

He blew off her comment. “Things will get nasty.” His eyes narrowed.

She looked at the ceiling and huffed. “Who cares? It’s not my problem.”

Ryant slammed a fist on the table.

Kris snarled. “Try something. I dare you. I’d love to tear at your flesh.” Her lips curled. The growling never ceased.

The only wolf ever to intimidate him sat across the table. Ready to explode at any moment, the energy charged through the room. He sat still. Seconds ticked by as he rationalized the consequences of tempting her beast. He didn’t want her showing him her true side, the way nature created her.

Flexing his fingers, he made a fist. He retreated, placing his hand on his lap. “You’d love to, wouldn’t you?”

“You bet your yummy ass I would.” She popped a steamed carrot into her mouth and chomped her teeth, then smiled a grim smile. “That was your pinky. This…” She held up a red potato. “Is your…yeah.” She glanced at the table above his waist, squishing the well-done vegetable in her hand.

Ryant gulped as he watched. He slipped his thoughts into hers for a read. She wouldn’t open to him.

“Stop probing my mind.”

She chucked the smashed potato next to his broken glass, wiped her hand clean and placed her palm flat on the table. Risking all, he reached over and laid his hand on hers.

Her blue gaze drifted from his to where they connected. She licked her lips. Dragging in a long breath, eyes closed, she exhaled and removed her hand from beneath his. The warmth he craved was now gone.

Shoving to her feet, she picked up her .40, walked to the fridge and retrieved a beer. After she pried off the cap, with her backside to him, she swallowed the liquid in one draw. She crossed to the pantry, pulled the door open and trashed the longneck.

The whole time, she continued to show her back.

He counted how many steps it would take to reach her. One. Two. Three. Four. Five strides and he could wrap her in his arms. Bring her body flush with his. Cherish her. Smell her scent, her nectar of arousal. His feet twitched.

Kris turned. Eyes on his, she sauntered to the table and plopped onto the chair across from him. After she placed the gun on the surface once more, she kept a finger on the trigger, barrel pointing in his direction. “Why? Why do you want me to help you? Why are you truly here?”

He didn’t want to tell her the truth. That he’d been thrown out of New York for creating his own coven, The Truce Brotherhood, a group of vampires committed to defending preternatural creatures and condemning those who threatened to upset the Darkworld balance.

“I grew tired of New York and wanted to find you. Besides, you’re the best. I’ve heard it from everyone, and I want the best.”

“Have you approached the Throne on this matter?”

“I did. They want proof. I need your help.”

“I want proof too. How do I know this isn’t your attempt to win me back?”

He’d try his best to win her back. Yet his gut churned with doubt. He retrieved money from his pants pocket and placed the wad on the table, between them. “Come with me now and I’ll give you more. It’s up to you.” A flash of thought broke through her shielding—Knight Lost Loves event
.
“I need you to help me find this man, Kristina. I don’t want more wars to break out.”

Voice lowered, she said, “Who is this guy?”

“His name is Adams. Stanley Adams. He’d been in my circle for many years before he disappeared. I asked Sparky to track him with no luck. He returned with leads. It may be the beginning of an attempt on the Throne. Something about Soulscapes returning for royal blood. I fear they may come for you. I want to protect you. I want you by my side tracking the escapee.”

Kris slumped. Her arms folded over her belly. She resembled a child denied the tasty dessert she wanted. Unable to help himself, he gave her a heated once over, his gaze halting at her breasts, at the cleavage swelling over the neckline. Breathtaking. No other woman matched his stamina better than Kristina.

“No.”

Confused, he looked up. What was the question? “No?”

“No. I won’t help you.”

“Why not? The Soulscapes have escaped the spell.” He didn’t understand. How could she deny him?

“Because I don’t have to, and I don’t want to. The demons are your problem.” She shoved the money toward him and stood. “Thank you for the food, and I’m sorry your trip turned out differently than what you wanted. But you wasted your time.” She babbled like a spoiled brat.

“What will you do if the Elders arrive to handle the matter themselves? Queen Cekah herself, when she finds out? The members will be informed I came to you and you refused.” He gritted his teeth. Was there even an ounce of understanding in her face? No. Nothing.

“You’re the leader of Louisiana. You handle the Soulscapes and the Throne members. I have nothing to do with them or the demons anymore. My Uncle Fremont decides for the wolves. Ask him.”

“I tried. He’s with the queen on some mission. Mark my words, I will do whatever I need to in order to make sure the Soulscapes do not come near you, and you will not like what will take place to make that happen.”

Ryant stood and snatched the money. Still carrying the weight of the escapee on his shoulders, the possible war and the Throne members, he clenched his jaw. His canines disappeared. When the Elders asked why she didn’t take action, he’d send them straight to her house. “The money will help with the charity event you’re hosting.”

“What? Stop reading my mind.”

“I can only read bits and pieces when you let them slip, and that is what stands out the most…the charity.”

Kris stood and stepped back, then pointed to the living room.

With ease, Ryant moved toward the front door.

“Don’t come back unannounced.”

He left. At the bottom of the steps, he stopped and turned, walking backward as he spoke. “I can say this, Kris, you haven’t changed one bit.” He held up his hand, pressed his lips to his open palm and blew her a kiss. “Until our paths cross again.” With that, he dissolved into the night air.

4

Fog drifted in dense billows, creeping along the forest floor. Heavy thuds pounded, crashing close. The sound of breathing from an unknown creature gained ground, closing in on the treeless clearing. The moon inched over the western horizon. Soon, the sun would grace the dark forest, bringing light to earth, diminishing the shadows. Not fast enough.

A dark blob galloped into the clearing. The wolf stopped and snorted. The Knight family crest dangled below the thick, black-furred neck and swung back and forth from the dash through the forest. The wolf’s head drew back in a monstrous howl as its powerful legs and paws clawed the soft earth.