Mated to a Cajun Werewolf Read online

  “Let's go.”

  “Don't order me around, wolf,” she said quietly, her words laced with steely determination. That was new. Not that she'd ever cowered before, but in the past she had been softer, more agreeable. Stubborn yes, but she'd also deferred to him as any good bitch would do.

  The problem was she'd deferred to her family's wishes more. That particular memory brought much pain and anger to the surface but he pushed the emotions away and focused on her.

  “Just get in the damn car.” He picked up the nearest bag and reached for another. A small fist came out of nowhere and slammed against his jaw. His head cracked back at the impact.

  André grabbed her wrist before she could pull it back. In a stealthy move, he dropped the bag and wrapped his other hand around her throat. She was so small, almost frail in his grasp. Her creamy skin stood out in stark contrast to his darker tan. For the first time, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, eyes wide with shock.

  “Bad move, shewolf,” he murmured the instant before he pulled her flush against him. Her soft womanly curves gave against his harder frame, and her delicate floral scent swirled around him. A startled gasp left her lips. He saw the shock warring with longing in her eyes as he dipped his head and claimed the ruby lips that still haunted his dreams.

  The passion that had always flared white hot between them raged anew. He'd never met anyone who made him lose his cool like Juliette did. No one had ever ignited his desire, threatened every last thread of control the way she did.

  He loved and hated the way she pushed his resolve to the breaking point. When he’d been young and foolish he’d tried to believe that he could hold back. God knew he’d tried. But it was impossible to stay away from Juliette. And once she was this close, when the hot, powerful attraction settled around him like a heavy fog…he was a goner.

  She leaned against him now, that same hand that had struck him moments ago steadied her against his chest. Her lips were soft and yielding beneath his; he teased them with his tongue. She tasted of chocolate and wine. Rich, warm, tempting. Oh yes, he could drown in her and die a happy werewolf.

  She'd always been like this. Fiery hot one second and sweet and supple the next. She did crazy things to his mind...and his cock.

  André loosened his hold on her throat and let his hand slide into the silky strands of her hair to cup the back of her head. She moaned against his lips, and he swallowed the sound. In the back of his mind warning bells were sounding the alarm. Sex had never been the problem for them. Chemistry they had by the bucket.

  It was loyalty. Her loyalty had never been to him.

  And loyalty was more important than anything to him.

  Before he completely lost his mind, he pulled back slowly. Where he found the strength he didn’t know, but somewhere over the years he’d learned to control his baser urges. He was pleased that his cock was no longer the boss. Neither was the beast he kept leashed just beneath the surface. The werewolf and his human side were constantly at war. And though he leaned back just enough to put an inch between them, just enough to remind his were who was in charge, he couldn't stop himself from staring at her mouth. Nor could he stop his smile when he saw how swollen those satiny smooth lips were.

  Who would have thought it? A boring business meeting on the east coast was suddenly looking up. His cock jerked against the thin material of his boxers. Things were definitely looking up.

  “Let me go.” But just as quickly as he'd gotten his hopes up, he was reminded of why they weren't together, why he'd spent years trying to forget this woman, to stop wanting her.

  She pushed against his chest and he did as she asked, though he suddenly felt empty. She wasn't here because of him. It was all a coincidence, bad timing. When would he figure out that he could never have her all to himself? When would he remember that her loyalty was to her family? When would he get it through his thick skull that she was a Vassar and Vassars were not to be trusted?

  He stepped back and gave her a long sweeping look. Trust or not, he couldn't leave her here. Who knew how long it would take her to get a taxi? Quickly, he gathered her bags and shoved them into the cargo area of the SUV.

  “Give those back,” Juliette ordered, her fiery side roaring back to life. He heard her foot stomp against the pavement. “André!”

  “So you do remember my name. What was it you called me before? Swamp rat, cheri?” He gave her a dark look.

  She stepped out from under the cover and the rain made quick work drenching her hair and clothes. She’d never looked more beautiful. Young. Fresh. Her lips were full from his kiss, and her blue eyes flashed with fire. Sexy as pure sin.

  Unable to help himself, he mentally removed her clothes, turned the frown that marred her pretty face into an alluring smile meant just for him. Damn. He was up shit creek without a paddle. He had to snap out of it and fast.

  He’d drop her off wherever she needed to go and then he’d resume his to-do list. Drive home. No. Drive to Louisiana. Finish the buy-out. Collect his money and get on with his life. Traveling. Maybe Antarctica would be cold enough to cool his libido.

  “Give me my bags, André,” she said in a superior tone of voice that grated on his nerves. A long slender hand with perfectly polished nails clasped over her hip and she leaned into it. “I’ll get a taxi.”

  “You'll do nothing of the sort.” Though that would be so much easier, so much safer for his sanity and the beast that snarled, demanding release.

  “You can't make me—”

  Such childish quibbles. When would she learn? He was bigger, stronger, and far more determined.

  When he made no move to follow her orders, she stepped toward the pile of luggage, reaching for one of the leather handles.

  “You should have just gotten into the damn car,” he growled as he wrapped an arm around her waist, the other under her knees and lifted her. She screamed his name and a strong fist banged against his back.

  He dumped her unceremoniously, but carefully, into the cargo area with her baggage. She was still screaming at him as he slammed the door shut and strode around to the driver's side door.

  “When you're ready to stop acting like a four-year-old, you can come sit up front with the big boys,” he said and locked the doors.

  Traffic moved like cold molasses as a mass exodus clogged the roads. André glanced at Juliette's reflection in the rearview mirror. She'd been stewing for a good ten minutes. He thought about saying something, but there really was nothing to be said. He was here. She was here. They were together. Again. After two hundred plus years of separation and distance. Fate had a cruel sense of humor.

  His heart ached. So did his cock.

  He glanced back again. Her gaze met his for a brief, electric moment before she jerked her head away. She flipped her wet hair over her shoulder and stared out the window. He knew she was probably catching a chill from getting drenched, but it was her own damn fault. He, on the other hand, he was fairly certain his body radiated enough heat to turn the water soaking his clothes to steam.

  She crossed her arms over her ample chest. André knew she hated taking orders but that was too damn bad. He’d treaded softly around her for too long. He wasn’t a ballerina. He was a werewolf and werewolves didn’t tap dance around problems. Or women’s feelings.

  But in a few short minutes it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t have to worry about her feelings. There would be no dancing, tap, ballet or otherwise. He'd drop her off at her family home and return to Louisiana as planned.

  So why did that idea leave a hollow feeling in his chest?

  Because she was in his life again. Because she was still the seductive beauty who'd stolen his heart, and his chance at a normal life, so long ago. For a while she'd stolen his pride as well, but during the empty years, he'd grown another pair.

  Now was not the time to get used to her nearness again. She was still stubborn as a mule. And nothing had really changed.

  Whatever she believed about him, abou
t the past, he appeared to be the last ride out of town. Why was it so hard for her to accept his help? And why did she look like she would faint from exhaustion at any moment? A better question, why the hell was she at the airport? Shouldn't she be with her Pack, preparing for this damn hurricane?

  He raked his fingers through his hair and tried to ignore the emptiness and the questions swirling around in his head.

  * * * * *

  Juliette was exhausted. The international flight that should have taken fourteen hours had taken almost seventeen. And she'd been squeezed between two stinky old men like an anchovy in a tin can.

  Now she reeked, had wet, stringy hair and her skin was clammy with humidity...all of which dimmed in comparison to her capture by one very determined Alpha male.

  Darn the man and his possessive streak...his need to help and control. She was plenty old enough to take care of herself. Lord knew she'd learned what responsibility was all about this last year. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, hoping the friction would chase away the chill.

  So why didn't you fight him harder? a little voice whispered through her mind.

  André didn't fight fair, that's why. He could charm her with a smile, leave her breathless from a single kiss, and sweep her off her feet without blinking an eye. Even when she promised herself she wouldn't fall for him again, even when she reminded herself over and over again about what he'd done to her brother, she still succumbed to him.

  Knowing that, she would just have to try harder. She would have to remember that the Deverauxs were not to be trusted. Her family, God bless their souls, had always believed that to be true. Why had she not listened? The man behind the wheel had caused her nothing but grief and pain.

  Okay, so that wasn't entirely true. There were years when they'd been together, sneaking around, hiding their relationship from their Packs...those years had been the best of her life. Running through the forest with him, sharing meals, sleeping at his side. Where had it all gone so wrong?

  A deafening clap of thunder startled a scream right out of her throat and his dark eyes met hers in the mirror. He was most likely amused. She could see the crinkles around those dark, bedroom eyes. Though she'd tried hard over the years, one thing she couldn't forget: André's smile.

  His was a smile that made her weak in the knees, slightly feral mixed with a whole bunch of wicked. Some would call it lethal. She would bet her luggage that more than one woman had actually wilted at his feet. One tug of his sensuous lips showed his happiness, amusement, and hunger.

  And though his smile was incredible, his lips were made for kissing...wide, full, just begging to be kissed. They knew their way almost instinctively around a woman's body. She could attest to that fact.

  Yes, Juliette was well schooled in André's art of seduction. He was the master and she, his willing pupil.

  At least she had been until that fateful day. But after all this time, the memory that had once soured her stomach wasn't as sharp or painful.

  Did he still think about that day? Or the days after? Was he sorry for what he'd done?

  She closed her eyes and willed the images away. How, of all the days of the year, had she ended up at the airport on the same day, the same hour as him? And Dieu, why had she come home in the middle of a hurricane?

  André's mother was right. The Fates did have a cruel sense of humor.

  * * * * *

  Movement in the back caught André's attention and he looked up from the rain-drenched road to see Juliette pulling a brown leather bag into her lap. Her long, smooth legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles. She unzipped the bag and reached inside. He heard the crinkling of plastic and saw her pop something into her mouth. His gaze flicked back to the road long enough to ensure he wasn't about to rear-end someone and then he studied her profile as she chewed.

  She was more refined than the last time he'd seen her. But he supposed that years did that to a woman. Her eyes closed and a look of serenity smoothed her features. A sinful little moan escaped her lips, one he was all too familiar with.

  He adjusted the front of his slacks and fought the flood of memories that her moan triggered. At one time, his kisses, his hands, his cock had elicited that sound, pulled it from her lips over and over.

  Torture, that's what this was. The drive that he'd been sure would take twenty minutes at most was stretching into hours. A cop in a raincoat directed all lanes of traffic away from the airport. Reaching out, he turned on the air conditioner, mentally reminding his libido for the hundredth time exactly who the beauty in the back was and why she was here. She was the woman who'd smashed his heart into a million little bloody pieces and then handed it back to him. She was the woman whose lies had almost cost him his life. He was here on business and nothing more. And it was time to leave this Godforsaken state. And her, right along with it.

  All he had to do was stick to the plan.

  Drive her home. Drop her bags at her feet and get the hell out of here. Right. Stick to the plan.

  Another thirty minutes passed and he began to wonder if it wouldn't just be faster to throw her over his shoulder and carry her home. Human nature was the same everywhere. People waited until the last possible minute to leave, praying for a miracle. Praying that Mother Nature would take pity on them and their homes.

  He was such a hypocrite. Why had he stayed? To think over his future? Ironic that his past had just punched him in the jaw. He could have caught that flight last night with the Bobs. But he'd stayed. If he hadn't, he'd have missed Juliette altogether. He wasn't sure if that would have been a good thing or a bad thing.

  An unladylike oath drew his attention from the swishing windshield wipers. Evidently she'd stewed long enough. On her hands and knees, she crawled forward, tugging her carry-on with her. The rearview mirror afforded him a perfect view of her luscious curves in the tight gray dress. His palms itched to cup the heavy globes of her breasts. God what an incredible body she had. Time had helped him forget just how sexy she was. Just how much he yearned for her.

  Her normally graceful movements were stiff as she settled next to him. She dropped the bag between her feet. He eyed her hands as they clenched the hem of her dress and tugged it down to cover her thighs.

  “You ain’t got nothin’ I haven’t seen before, cheri.”

  She huffed out a sharp breath and snapped her seatbelt with a click. Her movements caused the silky material to creep upward a fraction of an inch. His eyes darted from the blinking traffic light to her creamy thighs and back again.

  “But if you want to show me again, I won’t mind,” he murmured before he could stop himself.

  “Look, André…I appreciate the ride—“

  “Cut out the polite drivel, Ms. Manners. I know you wanna rip my head off and that doesn’t bother me. I was here for a job. Not you. And as soon as I drop you off, I’ll be gettin’ back to my side of the Mississippi.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

  “What’s her name?”

  He spared a glance. She was gazing out the window, her chin propped against her fist. “Jealous?”

  “Don't be absurd.”

  “Them,” he said after a long pause. “My brothers and I are selling our company.”

  That got her attention. She turned toward him. “You’re selling Deveraux Shipping? Why?”

  She knew the name of their company? Had she kept up with him? He'd kept up his end of the bargain and hadn't contacted her since she and her family had moved to the States.

  As hard as it had been, he'd closed off that area of his life. Even after she'd tossed his declaration of undying love back in his face that day in Savannah sixty years ago and told him to stay on his side of the mighty Mississippi, he'd still longed for her. At least, he had for a while. That was before he realized how stupid it was to wait for a woman who didn't love him back.

  The hollowness that he'd felt as he'd left her that day was still there, a giant gaping hole in his chest. Occasionally, the hol
e would shrink slightly, fill a tiny bit. But it was always there, reminding him of what he could never have.

  Deveraux Shipping was a recent project, started long after that fateful day they’d met down at the docks. Which meant what? She'd kept tabs on him even after that I never want to see you again business? Even now, the memory, her voice crystal clear ringing through his mind, hurt like lemon juice on a fresh wound.

  “We made our money.” Plenty of it. They’d be set for a century at least. “Fuel costs mean smaller profit margins.” Which was the truth. But Sebastian didn’t want the human world to become too suspicious of a group of wealthy bachelors who never seemed to age. And no one would believe that the Deveraux men would get plastic surgery.

  André was happy to sell. Office life never suited him much. Sure, he was just as much of a wolf in the boardroom as he was in the forest. Sebastian and Jules had relied on him to go for the kill. Bang out the best deals. Take no prisoners.

  His attention to detail and ruthless drive to win had made their company a lot of money. But he was ready to move on to the next stage of his life...whatever that was.

  “I bet you're just ready to get out of that suit.” Good God. Did she have to sound as if she were ready to strip his clothes off? He sucked in a breath and fought hard for control. Sweet control, cool calm. That goal went out the window when he caught her gaze lingering on his thighs.

  “Guilty, as charged,” he admitted, baiting her. She knew him too well. Always had.

  No. That wasn’t true. Not entirely. If she’d really known him, she would've understood how crazy he’d been for her all those years ago. How hard it had been for him to go up against his family and hers. To say to hell with you all. To put aside his family loyalty, to leave his pack for her.

  And for what? For her to turn her back on him.

  Juliette understood his primitive side. The call of the wolf. The need to change. To run. To hunt. She’d understood it, matched his cravings. She’d run with him. Hunted side by side. She’d slept beneath the stars, curled against him. Howled at the same full moon. Dieu...