PrimalDesign (4 page)

He nodded, looking superior and attractive and God, she
hated him. “I’m sure he seems safe because he’s a friend of Ram’s, but he’s a
womanizer.”

Kitty bit her bottom lip and wrinkled her forehead, playing
this moment for all it was worth. Monk’s face twisted as though it broke his
heart to tell her this.
The hypocritical asshole.
“You mean he might, I
don’t know, say he loves me, use me for my body, and then tell people about it
making me a social pariah?”

That’s when Monk’s eyes widened. She could see him trying to
formulate a response, so she went in for the kill. “Maybe he’ll tell me he
loves me and then promise a lifetime of happiness and when I believe him, he’ll
turn on me.” She paused to tap a finger against her jaw in faux deep thought.
“Although, you know I think I’ve used that move myself a few times. It’s
amazing how effective it is, huh, Monk?” She smiled using all of her teeth.
“Thanks for reminding me of it. I’ve wanted to yank that tiger’s tail for days.
I hope Ram doesn’t mind when I use and abuse his poor friend, but somehow I
don’t think Nick will complain.”

“Baby, I’ve been hoping that’s what you wanted ever since I
saw your sweet ass,” Nick’s deep voice said from the entry behind her. Before
she could expire of mortification, he spun her around and gave her the worst
kiss she’d ever had and that included the one Matthew Parker had given her in
kindergarten.

Knowing Monk watched, the scent of his anger rising around
them, Kitty latched on to Nick like the pleco fish one of her exes had in his
aquarium, all suction and little joy. The kiss probably looked a lot worse than
it was. Nick didn’t even attempt to slip her some tongue. Actually, now that
she wasn’t looking at the reason for her heartbreak, Kitty realized Nick’s lips
were pressed to the corner of her mouth, his hands in nonsexual places.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes as she realized he was
saving her further humiliation.
God bless his sweet, tattooed heart.

He pulled away, his golden eyes tender when he looked at
her. “C’mon baby, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Kitty knew her smile was wobbly at best, but she gave it to
him anyway. “Sounds good to me, tiger.” She glanced over her shoulder at Monk,
whose body practically seethed with strong emotion. “Thanks for your worry over
my reputation. It’s a rare friend who cares.” She was going to throw up, but
she snuggled into Nick’s side. “Let’s get out of here. It was…interesting
seeing you again, Monk.”

Allowing Nick to lead her out of the hallway where the air
had grown suffocating and thick, Kitty willed away the hurt.

I think that went well. At least I didn’t kill him.
But God, she needed a drink, maybe a few hundred if she was going to wipe the
memory of this encounter from her brain.

* * * * *

“You’re a dumbass.”

Monk barely paid attention to Ram’s astute observation, too
busy staring at the doorway where Kitty disappeared with the tiger.

You mean he might, I don’t know, use me for my body and
then tell people about it making me a social pariah?

The “like you did” went unsaid, but it’d been a direct hit
regardless. He hadn’t meant to say anything about the tiger. He’d wanted to
apologize for hurting her, but the minute she turned on him, her bear bristling
with hostility, his brain tripped up and all he could do was spout that
bullshit about Nick, his possessiveness roaring to the forefront and
obliterating all common sense. It was a hard admission for him to make, but
this Kitty Chambers, the woman she’d become, made him feel like a complete
idiot.

A sentiment Ram obviously shared. The lion came to stand
next to him, disgust twisting his face. “You seriously tried to warn her away
from Nick? Are you
trying
to push her into bed with him?”

The garbled snarl that escaped his throat came out a cross
between “no” and “I’ll kill him”. Neither of which impressed Ram. Monk sucked
in a deep breath to calm his cat, who wanted to chase after his mate and the
fucking tiger. “Spying on me, lion?” he asked instead of punching the most
convenient warm body.

Ram let out a disgusted sigh. “No, Daisy told me she saw you
drag Kitty down the hall, then I saw Nick coming this way and figured I’d better
make sure there was no bloodshed. These Lebeau woman get ornery around cats, it
seems.” He turned to Monk. “What the fuck was up with that holier-than-thou
speech anyway? You know how oppositional-defiant Daisy and her kin are.”

His throat made a clicking sound as he swallowed. Yeah, he
knew how much the Lebeau women hated being told what to do, although Kitty had
never before displayed that stubbornness. It was practically part of their
genetic makeup handed down from Fleur Lebeau, the bear-shifting lady of the
night who’d come to Louisiana from France to be a bride. She’d pretty much
flipped off the King of France and in outright defiance opened a brothel. He’d
always admired Daisy Lynn’s strength of will knowing she was an almost direct
throwback to her ancestor who’d defied a king, but preferred Kitty’s soft
sweetness. Now it looked as though his mate had discovered that previously
untouched part of her heritage.

And it turned him on. God, did it. His mating mark had
flared to life the instant he touched her arm. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t
touching skin, he could feel the heat of her body through the thin material of
her jacket and it made his cougar yowl in excitement. His ears buzzed, his cock
throbbed and his brain went on hiatus and apparently he said stupid shit
designed to remind her of what he’d done to her.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, running a
hand over his face. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I saw her and…”
His voice trailed off before he admitted, “I went all reverend caveman on her.
Fuck.”

“Dipshit,” Ram said in total agreement. “She’s going to be
hard to pin down after this.”

He knew. And it wouldn’t help that he’d practically thrown
her to the tigers. His cougar snarled in rage.
Yeah, yeah, join the club.
I’d love to kick my ass too.
“I’ll figure something out.”

Ram snorted and started walking way. “You’d better because
if you piss Daisy off I won’t stop her from kicking your ass this time.”

The double doors slammed closed behind the asshole lion,
leaving Monk alone in the hallway. God, he’d fucked up so bad. He scrubbed a
hand over his face. For the last two months, ever since Daisy Lynn made him see
sense about how he’d wronged Kitty by not trusting her to take care of any kids
they’d have, all he could think about was how to win her back. The tainted
blood his mother had passed down to him wouldn’t have mattered to the old
Kitty. She would have loved him anyway, would have taken every precaution to
make sure their children were safe, so he wouldn’t try to kill them the way his
mother had tried to kill him. But he’d arrogantly thought Kitty too sweet and
gentle to handle the troubles he brought with him.

Not for the first time, Monk damned his bloodlines. As he
stormed from the gym, taking the back way out of the building to avoid running
into anyone, he thought about everything he’d learned about his fucked-up
family. His mother had been locked up in an asylum after trying to kill him,
his father telling everyone in town that she’d died of cancer to avoid scandal.
Walter, his dad, had been the last of his line and his mother, Carla, had been
the center of his world until he’d discovered her trying to kill his son.

Monk stumbled into the cool night air and breathed deep.
Walter had told him Carla claimed her mother tried to kill her as well when she
was young. Monk had no reason not to believe it, not when it had pained his
father to admit he’d made a mistake in marrying Carla. He’d never come out and
said he regretted Monk being his kid, but Monk had read between the lines. He
was the last of Carla’s line and it was a line that needed to die with him. At
least, that’s what he’d thought fifteen years before.

It was a case of too little too late. After he’d dropped
Kitty off at home that fateful night, he’d gone to his house to tell his dad
his plans to marry Kitty since he’d just marked her. Oh the plans he’d had.
They would graduate, he’d go to work offshore if he had to, but he’d marry his
girl and start a family. That was all he could think about, his teenaged
single-mindedness almost causing him to attack his father when the truth came
out.

Yeah, things had not gone well that night. He and his father
had fought. Not verbally, but physically. Monk taking his pain and anger out on
the man who’d lied to him his whole life, the man who made it impossible for
Monk to have Kitty. He’d roamed the woods after the fight and found himself
behind Kitty’s house. He watched the light go off in her bedroom, eyes burning
with unshed tears. It’d been the longest night of his life, but when he went to
school the next morning, it was with a plan to make her hate him.

Monk grunted as he climbed in his car and closed the door.
The Mustang was a relic from his days in high school, one he couldn’t force
himself to get rid of because it was where he and Kitty had spent so much time.
Talk about fucking torture. Her scent had faded long ago, but those first few
days after the breakup, he’d sit in his car and just breathe her in.

He rested his head on the steering wheel, his shoulders
bowed under the pressure of wanting to find her right now and explain himself.
He couldn’t though. She’d been seriously pissed off. With the way his luck was
going tonight, he’d stare at her blankly and blurt something inappropriate.
Again. Then she’d kill him. He didn’t doubt for a minute that Kitty’s bear
wanted to lob him off at the knees and he wouldn’t even blame her for it.

But there was still tomorrow. Sucking in another deep,
steadying breath, Monk sat up and stared through the windshield at the parking
lot as it emptied of cars. Kitty was staying in town until at least Daisy’s
wedding, which was a little over a month away. As long as she didn’t do another
disappearing act, he’d catch up with her and next time he wouldn’t act like an
ass.

He hoped.

Chapter Four

Two weeks later…

Monk glared at the flowers sitting on his desk. For two
weeks his sly mate had eluded him. He had no idea how she knew when he was
visiting Daisy Lynn and Ram because he never announced his intentions to go to
Red House, but he’d always arrive right on the heels of her leaving. Her scent
would linger in the air, taunting him and driving him fucking insane. He’d
tried sending her flowers and the next day the flowers would be sitting on his
office desk, the note still attached with no signs of being opened. His office
was starting to look like a Goddamn funeral parlor and Monk had finally reached
the end of his rope.

Shoving to his feet, he glared at the vase of roses as
though they morally offended him. He was going to corner the bear in her den,
or in this case, her parents’ house. He knew she was there. Everyone else in
Maison Rouge seemed to have seen her or talked to his Kitty at some point in
the past two weeks except for him. She’d stopped to visit Mrs. Haydel, had tea
with Monica Doucet and her group of friends, helped a couple of the teenage
girls pick out dresses for prom, and had even gone out drinking with Daisy Lynn
and the boys from Saber at The Goose. But Monk had seen neither hide nor hair
of her since the night of the assembly.

“Ginny!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

His assistant, a human and a damn good asset to the Festival
Committee, appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide. “Yes, Mr. Badeaux?” she
asked in a timid voice.

He bit back a groan. “God, Ginny, we’ve been working
together for five years. Couldn’t you call me Monk?” Even though he knew it
wouldn’t do any good. She’d go right back to calling him Mr. Badeaux in an
hour, making him feel as though he should be using a walker.

Her fingers twisted together. “Yes, M-Monk,” she squeaked.
She cleared her throat. “Was that all you needed, sir?”

He sighed. “No. Have someone bring these flowers to the
Senior Citizen’s Center. I’m sure some of the ladies there would like them.” He
pushed to his feet. “I’m leaving for a few hours, hold all of my calls. If
anything urgent comes through, send me a text.”

Ginny nibbled on her lip as she watched him shut down his
computer and gather his things. “What do you want to do with the uh, cards?”

“Burn them.” Because what he had to say to his woman
couldn’t be said on a piece of paper anyway. “I’ll be back later.” He slammed
out of the office, the scent of flowers clinging to him as he strolled to his
car.

“Monk,” Sheriff Thomas Picou called out, “
comment ça va?”

Stifling another groan, Monk turned to face his mate’s
uncle. “Hey, Thomas,
ça va bien, et tu
?”

“Comme ci, comme ça
,
”
he said with a waggle of
his hand to the left and the right in a universal “so-so” gesture. “Daisy’s
wedding is making me crazy.” He shook his head. “I never did see so many women
get worked up for a three-hour event. Claudette’s got magazines all over the
house and I can’t move a single one of them without her raising hell.”

Despite his rush to corner Kitty, Monk couldn’t help but
grin. “It’s a big day for the bride and the mother of the bride.”

The bobcat shifter scratched the side of his nose. “
Mais
,yeah, I know that, but Kitty’s been actin’ strange too, like this wedding
dress she’s makin’ is life or death.” He made a clicking sound with his tongue.
“
Pauvre bête
barely sleeps and you should see what she’s been wearin’
around the house! Pants with the holes in them all over the place. She told me
they’re designer, but the last time I saw pants like that I was throwin’ them
away.”

Monk’s cougar had perked up at the mention of Kitty, but it
didn’t like what it heard. “She’s staying over at your place?” he asked in a
casual tone he hoped Thomas wouldn’t question.

The sheriff nodded, his gaze flickering beyond Monk’s
shoulder. “Yeah, she was driving Francine crazy with her late hours. Claudette
doesn’t mind so much because she’s used to me doing shift work, besides, it
gives her a chance to harass Kitty about the dress when she wants to. We
would’ve put her up at the rental, but those musicians are stayin’ there until
the wedding since they don’t want to intrude on Daisy’s and Ram’s privacy.” He
narrowed his eyes on something over Monk’s shoulder and cursed. “I have to go.
I see Martha Bourdier in the front window of the Dollar House, stuffin’
somethin’ in her underwear.” He started away, his short legs carrying him
across the street faster than one would expect.

Monk watched him go, puzzling over everything he’d said.
Kitty wasn’t staying at home and he doubted it had anything to do with her
hours. No, she’d gone to her aunt’s house because it was close to Nick. It had
to be. He’d heard over and over what an attractive couple they made until he
wanted to slash throats with his claws. His worry that he might have pushed
Kitty right into the tiger’s arms dyed his vision red and made his cougar hiss
with anger.

Cursing himself lower than a flea-bitten dog, Monk hopped in
his car and tore off down the street in the direction of the Picous’ house.
He’d been there enough times throughout his friendship with Daisy Lynn to be
comfortable going over without calling ahead. Besides, if he called ahead,
Kitty would know and might try to duck out on him. Again.

I’ve got you now, baby, and this time I’m not leaving
until we talk.

* * * * *

“I’m sorry,
cher,
but she’s busy,” Claudette said
when Monk knocked on her door. She stood in front of him with a harried
expression. “I poked my head in the door to tell her I was leaving for work and
she snarled at me. At me! Her own aunt.” The black bear shifter sniffed and
stepped outside, forcing Monk to back up to give her room. “I’m sure she’ll
have more time to visit with everyone as soon as she starts sewing the
underdress.”

Monk had no idea what she was talking about. “When will that
happen?” he asked as he walked Daisy Lynn’s mom to her truck.

Claudette waved her hand. “I don’t know. She’s got me so
crazy. She barely let me see the design she came up with saying it needed
tweaking. I don’t know if Daisy has even seen it.” She threw her purse and
another bag onto the truck’s bench and turned back to him. “Kitty is completely
unreasonable about this, but Daisy tells me she’s an artist and she needs her
space. Well, how am I supposed to know what to wear to the wedding if I don’t
know what the gown looks like?”

“I’m sure she doesn’t mean anything by it, Ms. Claudette,”
Monk soothed. He even patted her shoulder. “I’m sure Kitty knows what she’s
doing. I mean, she’s a professional, right?”

* * * * *

“Goddammit,” Kitty muttered under her breath and bit the tip
of her tongue to get it
Just
.
Right.
It didn’t help. “Fuck, fuck,
fuck. I’m not giving up until I get this.”

“Kitty Marie Chambers, I’m shocked.”

The unexpected sound of Monk’s voice jolted Kitty out of her
fascination with Angry Birds. Almost jumping out of her skin, she looked up to
see Monk poking his head through the open window, grinning at her. It was a
sight reminiscent of the times he’d done the same thing at her parents’ house.
He’d climb the tree next to her window, sit on the porch roof and talk with her
for hours. And that was before they started dating.

He stood with his arms draped over the sill and a friendly,
open grin on his face. She could almost imagine they were fifteen again and
he’d come over to her house to tease her about spending so much time studying.
Except he didn’t resemble his teenage self any more than she did.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she dropped her
smartphone on the sewing table she was supposed to be working at. “Where’s
Tante
Claudette?”

“You mean the poor bear sow so desperate to see her daughter’s
dress she’d risk a grizzly bear’s displeasure? She went to work, which you
probably would have known if you hadn’t been playing a game on your phone.” He
leaned farther in the window, craning his neck to see the screen of her phone.
“Angry Birds, Kitty? I’m well and truly shocked. You wouldn’t have shirked work
for a game when we were kids. And I ought to know since I tried getting you to
do just that on more than one occasion.”

She folded her arms over her chest to hide the way her
nipples had tightened in interest as his scent wafted into the room. She
couldn’t believe she hadn’t smelled him a mile away, but the stress from being
home, making Daisy’s dress and the memories that tried to crush her every time
she went to town made her brain fuzzy. She hadn’t slept well since the night of
the assembly.

It wasn’t just the memories though, oh no. If only that were
her only problem. It was the fucking dreams she wanted to avoid that left her
staring at the ceiling until she passed out from exhaustion. Hot, sticky,
dangerous dreams that involved her and Monk and a variety of positions she’d
never even known were possible. She only thanked God that Daisy’s old bedroom
was on the opposite end of her aunt’s house, otherwise her relatives would
smell her arousal or hear her when she came. Because her dreams always ended
with her hand buried between her legs, her pussy clamping on nothing.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded in an ugly tone that
she hoped would discourage him.

Her body and her subconscious mind might have forgotten what
he’d said to her two weeks ago, but her brain hadn’t. Neither had her bear and
it set her to seething. She’d tried to think of other, more important things,
like the gown she needed to make for her cousin, but the echo of Monk’s words
haunted her, made her feel cheap and dirty, something she’d worked very hard to
get over once before.

His grin faltered and his eyes darkened. “I wanted to
apologize for what I said.”

Kitty went cold, hot, then cold again. “Which time?” She
couldn’t resist baiting him and faked a grimace. “Well, I suppose I should say
this time since the last time you never actually said anything to
me
,
did you?”

She shouldn’t have gotten such sadistic pleasure in the tide
of color that flooded his face, but she did. Kitty mentally licked her finger
and gave this round to herself.

Monk cleared his throat. “God, Kitty, I’m so fucking sorry
for all of it.”

“That’s nice,” she said without much interest.

She forced her eyes away from him, turning to look down on
the gown she was designing for Daisy. It was the kind of dress Kitty would have
made for herself back in the day. Well, not exactly the same. Back then she’d
been nothing but raw talent and dreams. She hadn’t refined her craft, something
she wouldn’t have cared about anyway. All that would have mattered was the male
she met at the end of the aisle. The same male who’d stolen that dream of
happily-ever-after from her. Kitty and her bear wanted blood.

“It’s funny, but I tell people I’m sorry when I bump into
them by accident, or when I interrupt someone’s conversation.” She looked up at
him and pinned him in place with her gaze. “I don’t tell people I’m sorry when
I try to ruin their lives. I don’t apologize because I’m such a sick, miserable
fuck that I get off hurting other people. Do you know why, Monk? Because until
now, I never wanted to hurt anyone. Until you.” Her heart slammed against her
ribs, adrenaline coursing through her body at finally telling the bastard what
she thought of him. “Now, if you’d like to keep all of your parts intact, I
suggest you get the fuck out of the window.”

The hurt that flashed in his eyes didn’t give her the
satisfaction she thought it would, but she couldn’t back down. “You think I
don’t know how inadequate sorry is, Kitty? Fuck, I’ve lived with what I did to
you for years and then when I see you again, instead of begging for
forgiveness, I lecture you.” He sounded disgusted with himself.

But her mind snagged on the most important part of what he’d
said. “You’ve lived with it for years?” she asked as she leapt to her feet,
anger scouring her veins. “
You’ve
lived with it? You son of a bitch!”
Storming up to him, she poked him hard in the chest. “I was humiliated. For the
first time in my entire life, I felt cheap and dirty and it didn’t help to have
all of my ‘friends’ give me the cold shoulder, or ask me if I was available for
a quick fuck.” Tears burned her eyes. Those same people fawned over her now, as
if it had never happened.

She poked his shoulder, her claws itching to spring out of
her skin and shred him to pieces. “I was counting the days to leave this town,
to leave my
family
, all because of you. It took me a long time to
realize not all males were dipshit assholes who only think about themselves.
Years, Monk, before I could trust anyone with my body, all because of you. And
you have the fucking nerve to act like you’re the one who suffered?”

With a move too quick for her to register in her furious
state, Monk’s hands went to either side of her head. In a swift, gentle motion,
he pulled her forward and kissed her. The move was so unexpected and so
reminiscent of the times he would calm her with a gentle press of the lips,
Kitty stood frozen for a moment.

He didn’t give her brain a chance to catch up. Between soft,
nibbling kisses that didn’t press for more, he whispered against her mouth,
“I’m sorry.” He brushed his lips against hers. “Forgive me.” He pressed a soft
kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Kitty-Cat.” His tongue lapped
at her bottom lip. “So damn sorry.”

He really is sorry.

Her greatest fears since returning to Maison Rouge came to
life. He was touching her, kissing her, apologizing in the sweetest way, and
her body was melting. Her bear threw her headlong into that kiss. The bear
didn’t care that the woman wanted to punch this male in the nose. The bear
recognized her mate’s scent, recognized his taste, and she wanted more.