Stranded with a Cajun Werewolf

  STRANDED WITH A CAJUN WEREWOLF

  By Selena Blake

  Her eyelashes fluttered for a moment and he held his breath, scrutinizing every tiny movement. Then those aqua eyes pegged him again and his breath came whooshing out. She looked totally out of it. Tired, sleepy, traumatized. But she didn’t panic in his arms. Perhaps she didn’t—

  “Are you an angel?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  Her question startled a laugh from him. Damn, it felt good to laugh. For a man who prided himself on his easy going nature, he'd been far too tense these last few months.

  “I’ve been called many things, but never an angel.” I was the guy cursing at you as you almost ran me off the road. I'm the idiot who can’t stop wondering who you are and what you're running away from. And I’m the man who can’t stop looking at your lips, wondering what they’ll taste like.

  A hint of a smile curved her lips and she laid a hand over his heart. “A fallen angel?” Payment of the download fee for this ebook grants the purchaser the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to download and read this file, and to maintain a private backup copy of the file for the purchaser’s personal use ONLY.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2011 Selena Blake

  Dear Reader,

  I firmly believe in true love and second chances. Burke’s book was a long time in coming. He had secrets he didn’t want to share. We’re all like that I suppose. But in his case, his secrets brought back memories he really didn’t want to tackle. In fact, he put on an easy going exterior and hid it all behind a smiling mask…until he meets Kendall.

  It was quite a challenge to get him to open up, but I think the effort was worth it. All he needed was true love and a second chance. I’m hoping you enjoy this last Stormy Weather story. I can’t say writing it was all peaches and roses but in the end, I love how it came out.

  This is the longest of the five Stormy Weather books and I hope you’ll find that I’ve wrapped up all loose ends and answered all your questions.

  As always, I’d love to hear what you think. I can be reached at selenablake@gmail.com

  or via my website http://www.selena-blake.com.

  Stay sexy,

  Selena

  Dedication

  To all the new fans and long time fans who pushed, prodded, and begged for Burke’s book. This one’s for you. Enjoy!

  Other Books by Selena Blake

  Series: Stormy Weather

  The Cajun’s Captive

  Bitten in the Bayou

  Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf (previously titled Bound & Determined) Mated to a Cajun Werewolf

  Surprising Darcy

  Just a Little Taste (previously titled The Wine Tasting) Series: Deep Space Encounters

  Reclaiming Isis

  Rescuing Natacha

  Azula’s Rebellion

  Chapter One

  The car came out of nowhere, horn blaring, bright lights reflecting off the curtains of falling snow. Burke Deveraux let out a curse as a streak of red passed him on the left. His wipers swiped across the windshield, trying in vain to keep the thick snow at bay. Didn't that lunatic driver realize they were in the middle of a blizzard? On a mountain road?

  Despite the snow chains, the tires of his Land Rover slipped on the icy slush and his hands tightened on the wheel. Just ten more miles and he'd be to the cabin. Give or take a few.

  He'd driven this road for years, but with all the white stuff coming down, it was hard to gage exactly where he was. The only thing that mattered was that he was long gone from Louisiana and whatever was in the water.

  There was no other explanation for four devoted bachelors to all find love in the span of five months. And while he was happy that they'd found their mates, and he couldn't wait to become an uncle, he much preferred his bachelor lifestyle.

  His brother and cousins had started talking to him finding his mate the moment André and Juliette had gotten back together. And over the last few weeks, they hadn’t let up. Even the women were in on it. The moment his favorite ski resort had announced an early season opening, he'd high tailed it out of there.

  Burke didn't want a mate.

  He just wanted some peace and quiet and to catch some fresh powder. And to forget the memories that clawed at him every time he saw one the women that had infiltrated Deveraux pack.

  What he hadn't bet on was trading hurricanes for the blizzard bearing down on him now. Or the flash of red that jerked his attention to the side of the road.

  He stepped hard on the breaks, trying to avoid the red car and the snow bank. For a nauseating moment the world was a streak of white. Burke’s hands strangled the steering wheel as he fought to keep the tires on the road.

  The antilock brakes kicked in and the vehicle slowed, but Burke exhaled too soon.

  In the blink of an eye the tires slipped in the slick snow and the back wheels swung right. Curses rent the air and his luggage rolled around like a pebble in a tin can. Gin let out a startled bark from the back seat.

  Finally, when everything was still, the SUV was pointed down the mountain. A gust of wind cleared enough snow out of the air that he could see the bright red car half buried by a pile of snow/half dangling off the side of the mountain.

  He unclenched his teeth, worked his jaw and huffed out a sigh. So much for a relaxing vacation.

  The formerly groggy Labrador was now wide-awake in the backseat. Gin let out a deep bark and smacked Burke in the cheek with his tail. He let out another woof, his nose pressed against the side window.

  “You all right?”

  Gin sighed in that purely canine way that said he wasn’t thrilled with the situation.

  The other driver made no move to back out of the dune and Burke figured that the idiot had wrecked his car. He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. He'd report the wreck and wait until the wrecker got here. If the wrecker got here.

  No signal.

  Great. He tossed the phone aside and reached behind the passenger's seat for his coat.

  Maybe the lunatic in the other car had a phone that would work. Tendrils of snow swooshed into the car as he opened the door. Bracing against the icy wind he planted one boot in the ankle deep snow and then the other.

  Tugging on his thick Northface coat he headed down the road toward the other car once again questioning his decision to try to beat the storm.

  The collision had killed the engine, mangling what he could see of the front end.

  Ah hell.

  A blonde lay hunched over the steering wheel, not moving. Blood soaked the back of her grey sweatshirt. He knocked on the window and wished he'd tugged on his gloves. The woman didn't move. He peered into the car, looking for a phone, and saw a large purse wedged between her chest and the steering wheel.

  He tested the handle of her door. Locked. Figured. The small window behind the driver’s seat was shattered, half the glass missing. He reached through the gaping hole and flipped the lock.

  Wrenching the door open he checked the pulse at her throat. Still thumping. He braced both hands around her neck and the base of her skull and then, as gently as he could, settled her back in her seat and took stock of her injuries.

  And arrestingly adorable features. She looked like an angel, a cherub, with glossy pink lips. With a bloody gash across her forehead and — was that a pink streak in her hair? He leaned closer. And a thick purple stripe too.

  A fierce wind howled over head, making the trees sway and groan. She gave a soft moan, and then, as if she'd awoken, her body went rigid.

  “You're okay, petit. Just relax. Where do you hurt?” Stunning aqua blue eyes met his for an instant before she closed them again, wincing.r />
  The fear he’d glimpsed there shocked him. “Please,” she said, her voice hoarse and barely a whisper. He leaned toward her to hear over the roar of the elements. “Don't let…him…take me.” There was a raw desperation to her plea and somehow he knew that this woman had rarely, if ever, asked for help. But she was asking now. No. She was begging.

  He pivoted to look back down the road. Aside from the brilliant white snow, all he saw were boney grey tree trunks. It wasn't fit for man or polar bear out here. Who the hell was chasing her? Better question, what was she doing in this storm?

  The woman didn't answer. She passed out cold, her body limp in the seat again.

  Gritting his teeth he surveyed the damage to her car. He'd be surprised if it wasn't totaled.

  Much less ran.

  What he needed was a cell phone signal.

  Hoping she didn't wake up, freak out, and deck him in the balls, he leaned into the car and unzipped her purse. Using her door as cover from the wind, he squatted down and opened the bag. He'd never snooped through a woman's purse before. Had never had any need to, until now. And though he wasn't sure what he'd expected to find, he had at least hoped it would contain a cell phone.

  Or a flare gun.

  Hell, at this point, with cold snow biting his ass, he'd settle for a homing pigeon.

  But what he found inside her bag was baffling. A curling iron that had seen better days, half a bag of Doritos, and a smorgasbord of cosmetics. Mostly lip gloss. In every shade and flavor imaginable. But no cell phone.

  Is this how she planned on protecting herself? Distract the guy with a flash of Berry Tasty lipstick and the scent of flavored corn chips, then beat him over the head with the curling iron before choking him with the frayed wire?

  He would have laughed if the situation weren't so dire. The car let out an agonizing groan as another blast of air hit them, whipping her hair away from her face.

  Maybe he could head back down the mountain for help but in this weather, who knew how long it would take him to return. She'd have frost bite by the time he got back. No, he couldn’t leave her.

  What the hell are you doing, Deveraux? You're not a knight on a white steed. Just close the door and get on the road. She’s not your problem.

  But he couldn't stop the protective instincts surging inside him. He was after all, male and a werewolf, both of which made him territorial to the core. Besides, what kind of asshole left a complete stranger, an unconscious woman, alone in a blizzard to fend for herself?

  He glanced at her body. She wore a pair of jeans and a thin looking sweater. Letting his eyes trail down her ultra curvy frame he frowned at the sneakers on her feet. Way to prepare for the Great White North, lady.

  He flipped open her wallet and glanced at her photo. She was truly angelic when awake and unbloodied. Her name was Kendall Carver from somewhere he’d never heard of in Florida state.

  All right, Kendall Carver from Florida, let’s get you out of here.

  After zipping her purse he carefully scooped her up. Settling her against his chest he turned for his Land Rover and tried to ignore the delicious feel and sweet scent of the beautiful woman unconscious in his arms.

  A loud crack sounded overhead. Burke’s gaze jerked up to the ice covered trees. Pop.

  Muscles tensed, he bolted for his SUV as a massive tree sliced through the forest, raining ice and snow around them. The boom of tree connecting with earth jolted his bones.

  There was an instant of groaning metal, then a bright flash of light, then a wave of heat and a loud bang. Sheltering the woman in his arms, he dared a glance over his shoulder. Her car was no more.

  Gin barked from the backseat, but Burke needed no urging. He wrenched the rear passenger’s door open and told his companion to get in the back. Gin obeyed the order, his big black nose twitching as he tried to catch Kendall’s scent. Somehow Burke managed to adjust the seats and settle her without jarring her too badly. At least he hoped so. She didn't rouse.

  He shrugged out of his coat and tucked it around her from chin to foot.

  Shutting the door, he surveyed the damage. Through the thick snow he saw the massive tree laying where he’d just been standing, now a pile of splintered wood. The debris covered his footprints.

  Thank the gods she hadn’t been in it.

  Another gust of wind battered the mountain, fanning the plume of black smoke into a grey fog.

  His keen ears picked up the sound of a motor on the road below. Gin stood in the back and let out a low growl. If Kendall was right about someone following her, they’d have to do it on foot. But he wasn’t going to stick around to watch.

  Chapter Two

  Kendall’s shoulder burned like it was on fire. Her left temple throbbed and she willed sleep to reclaim her. A gentle rocking motion brought a tremor of nausea to her stomach.

  Where was she? Almost afraid to open her eyes, she took a deep breath and winced at the pain in her ribs. She was wrapped up, warm, her cheek nestled against something soft and fuzzy. Whatever it was, it smelled like cologne and man and earth.

  Breathing, she quickly found, hurt and she didn’t dare move, but she let herself, just for a moment, soak in the feeling of security. It felt so good she almost wept. She needed that glimpse of hope, however misguided, more than her next breath.

  But weeping would expend energy she didn’t have. And it’d probably hurt like hell too.

  She couldn’t afford to draw attention to herself. One thing she was absolutely sure of —

  security didn’t last.

  She chanced opening her eyes. Damn. Startling white filled her vision, making her temple throb all the more. She glimpsed the luxurious interior of a vehicle and the back of a man’s head before she squeezed her eyes shut. The aches and pains bombarding her body brought the last few hours rushing back and tears swam behind her eyelids. She bit her lips to keep from crying out.

  Panic turned to helplessness. For the first time since she’d run out of her parents house a week ago, she wasn’t in control. How was she going to get out of this? How would she survive with her powers bound? How could—

  Her breath caught on a sob and searing pain sliced through her. Exhausted and powerless, she didn’t even try to fight the darkness as it claimed her.

  Burke parked the Land Rover in the cabin’s garage. The rustic beauty looked just as it had nine months ago. He surveyed the dim interior before pressing the button that closed the large door behind him. He hadn’t heard a peep from his new passenger, which suited him just fine. Once the howling wind and spiraling snow were locked outside two florescent lights flickered on overhead, struggling in the cold. Burke surveyed the shadowy space one more time before reaching for the door handle. Years of looking over his shoulder had taught him to be cautious.

  Everyone had enemies, especially werewolves.

  Gin rested his head on the rear seat, watching Kendall with steady brown eyes. She slept, oblivious to the turmoil outside. There was something so innocent about her. Burke knew he’d be better off if he didn’t pay attention to that innocence. His days of rescuing damsels in distress were over.

  Burke let Gin out the rear door before gathering Kendall in his arms as carefully as he could, cradling her against his chest. As he started for the door her head settled against his shoulder and he resisted the overwhelming urge to stare down at her face.

  The more he looked at her, the more he’d memorize her features. And he knew from past experience that once his mind had locked in her image, he’d see her everywhere, sleeping or awake. Already he felt a shift within himself, like his life had altered courses and he’d never get back to where he was going.

  Her unique womanly scent mixed with that of her blood and wafted into his nostrils.

  He would get her inside, get her settled, and try calling for help every fifteen minutes if he had to. And once he was done with his stent as a Good Samaritan, he’d be able to relax.

  Climbing the stairs, he wondered with each s
tep how his timing could be so rotten. Was the universe conspiring against him?

  He huffed out a sigh at the idiotic thought.

  Of course it was. The universe, fate, the devil himself had been conspiring against him for the better part of 250 years. He’d learned to keep his head down, his nose clean, and say no to distractions.

  After wrestling the door open at the top of the stairs and juggling the pixie in his arms, a blast of warm air enveloped him. Thank goodness for small favors. His housekeeper had gotten here before the storm to turn the heat on. Who knew how long before the storm killed the power, but he’d certainly enjoy it right now.

  Closing the door behind him, he stepped into the living room, sniffing the air. He glanced around, trying to hear over the howling wind outside. A single table lamp lit the space.

  Nothing appeared out of place. Except for the woman in his arms.

  He couldn’t help but glance down then. Her pale skin and threadbare clothes fired his protective nature again. He had no idea what he should do with her but found himself not wanting to let her out of his sight. Which was crazy. The most ridiculous idea he'd had since...in a long time. He should just put her in her own room and call for help and be done with it.Right. That's what he'd do.

  Her eyelashes fluttered for a moment and he held his breath, scrutinizing every tiny movement. Then those aqua eyes pegged him again and his breath came whooshing out.

  She looked totally out of it. Tired, sleepy, traumatized. But she didn’t panic in his arms.

  Perhaps she didn’t—

  “Are you an angel?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  Her question startled a laugh from him. Damn, it felt good to laugh. For a man who prided himself on his easy-going nature, he'd been far too tense these last few months.

  “I’ve been called many things, but never an angel.” I was the guy cursing at you as you almost ran me off the road. I'm the idiot who can’t stop wondering who you are and what you're running away from. And I’m the man who can’t stop looking at your lips, wondering what they’ll taste like.

  A hint of a smile curved her lips and she laid a hand over his heart. “A fallen angel?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I read a book about fallen angels once,” she murmured, her voice husky. “They're supposed to be incredibly hand—some.” During that pause she opened her eyes and snatched her hand back as if she'd suddenly realized what she was saying.