CHAPTER ONE
The world as we knew it didn't end in fire or nuclear radiation. It ended the same way it began, with magic. Once the creatures that lived in the darkness stepped into the light, the world changed forever. Eyes were forced open, and parents had reason to clutch their children to their breast and look on with horror. The bitter, abused and oppressed declared open season. Bones broke like brittle twigs. Flesh was ripped and peeled back to reveal the mushy red bits, like a grotesque new fruit. The shifters tasted blood like a fine wine straight from the source, on the streets, in plain view of the very people who had ruled in ignorance.
I understood then why they thought us to be monsters. At our very worst, Weres could be truly horrifying. In those days, there was no safe place.
The stench of death, decay and skewered bowels became a noxious aroma scorched into my nostrils. Everything burned and the darkest of our supernatural community had their day. They rejoiced in the chaos, drank down the fear, incited riots and painted a picture of imbalance which has taken years to undo. The vivid imagery of unseeing eyes, limbs and blood on the concrete reinforces the need for the task at hand.
War came on blistering hot summer day in the Bayou. I knew the moment the sky clouded over, when a mist crept over the ground and the wind kicked up, something supernatural was at play. But I could’ve never imagined the scale of destruction that would occur.
Today, I’ll do my damnedest to spread the one thing we need more of…peace.
I will not shirk my duties.
I step off the wrap around front porch while barefoot. There’s nothing like the connection to mother earth to ground me. I need that now. To banish the doubts, insecurities and fears rallying inside me. My head is thick with cobwebs spun of selfishness. This isn't the way I saw my life going. I thought I had all the time in the world to find myself and my mate. Now, I’m swept up in the unforgiving tide of events I can’t escape.
The cool blades of grass tickle the bottoms of my feet. I savor the relief from the relentless orange orb. I swear the sun keeps trying to cook me from the inside out. Summers in the bayou are ruthless. For all the water surrounding us, we get no respite from the muggy, sodden heat that wraps us like a wet blanket. The floor-length white dress sticks to my upper body. I summon up a cool wind. It moves the air around and caresses my face. I exhale. It’s like I’m breathing under water, the air is so thick. I cherish the lightweight material that's hard to find post looting. Sewing has always been a way to save money for me. But when the barriers went up, it became a sought after skill.
I sink my toes into the rich soil and let the organic energy seep up into my body. It replenishes me, as if I'm a flower seeking nutrients. Refueled; I breathe deeply and center myself for what's to come soon. The war ripped through the supernatural community, turning werewolves against witches and vampires, breaking the fragile treaties that existed in New Orleans for ages. If it hadn't been for me and my sister witches and priestesses banding together to create the impenetrable force fields known as the veil, Nawlins would've gone up in smoke, like so many other cities.
The earth took more hits than she should have over the past five years. Mind you, she’s a sturdy gal. Still, nothing is infallible. On the brink of total disaster, the light bulb went off inside everyone’s head. If we didn’t get our shit together, this could mean the end. Skirmishes grounded to a halt. Lines of communication opened. Olive branches stretched out between enemies. Even now, agreements were being made left and right, which is how I came to be in my predicament. Once again, it’s my turn to step up and do my part for peace. I’m the last of the Louviere line. I knew one day, the title of matriarch would rest on my shoulders. I just never expected it to be so soon.
I’m a babe in the woods at thirty-three. We’re incredibly long-lived. Most of the women didn’t take over until they were well into their forties or fifties. I hang my head, ashamed of the path my thoughts were wondering down. We’ve all made sacrificed since the insanity began. I’m no different in that aspect.
Why should I get to live like nothing has changed?
I glance out over the bank that led to the water. Golden rays turn the surface of the swamp into a glittering multi-hued jewel. It looks peaceful, but I know beneath the surface, the water is teeming with crocodiles that would rip a man to shreds. For now, the two-story building where I took my first breath—remains my home. I turn and take in the sight. The massive structure has an old world southern charm. The white paint is slightly faded with majestic columns on the wrap around porch. Dark green shutters stand out against the sea of cream. Ivy creeps up the side and three hand carved rocking chairs line the large porch. It’s my family’s history tied up in one place. I have everything I need in this space, with a vegetable garden on the side of the home and an herb garden in the front. A sharp pang of regret blooms in my chest at the thought of leaving it behind. Soon, everything will change. The low whine of a car engine and the rustling of brush draws my attention to the dirt road that leads up to the house. A brown cloud rises up in the distance.
It’s almost time. My stomach lurches.
In a few hours, I’ll be meeting with the Lycan King in the south, Ridge Tassin. Once the resident wild child of the family he'd been known to spend his life howling at the moon. Reigned in, cleaned up and civilized, he took the throne after the conflicts between shifters killed his father and laid his brother low. They couldn't afford to be weak or vulnerable, so he clipped his wings and donned the family crest. Made to stop sowing his oats before his time.
It’s something the two of us have in common. Among other interesting traits, like too much power and a streak of unconventional. Will that be enough?
The car comes closer emerging from the thinning dust
I recognize the black sedan and grin. Even on my worst days, my best friend, Eloi makes things better. Probably why they sent him. My best friend could talk a person into believing just about anything. I blame it on all the Cajun charm oozing through his pores.
He parks at the end of the drive and steps out. “Well, morning, Cher.” He shades his dark brown eyes from the sun with his hand and flashes me a dazzling white grin. He’s tamed his thick, chestnut hair back into a neat ponytail. The black t-shirt molds to his muscular chest and tapers down to his slim waist before disappearing inside a pair of dark denims that highlight his long legs.
For the millionth time, I wish I could’ve fallen for him during our youth. We would have jumped the broom years ago and been on baby number who knows what. Then I wouldn’t be offering myself up like a sacred calf. “Morning and don’t come here trying to charm me, Eloi. Doomsday has arrived and the devils' collecting his due from us all.”
He clucks his tongue. “Already in a bad mood I see.”
The familiar drawl is soothing, but I don’t want him to know that. He’ll use the opening and drag me from beneath my black raincloud. “Can you blame me?” I ask dryly.
He shakes his head and wraps his arm around my waist. “Non, but it could’ve been worse. Ridge is modern and reasonable. He’s like you Bebe, caught up by bloodlines and duty. You come along with enough power to blow everyone out a da water. We should’ve known then sometin’ was in de air.”
My heart beats faster. “You think this is because of me?” I ask, voicing a long time fear. My chest tightens. My breath is strangled inside my lungs as I forget how to breathe. A witch who wields all four elements is a rarity. I spent my teens trying to figure out why I possessed so much power. I've since decided I don't care much for the answer.
“Non, the world always provides a way to keep a balance. You a part of that, understand?”
I nod. His words make sense. It’s nothing I haven’t thought myself. The magic I brandish coupled with Ridges ability to shift into multiple forms is extremely suspect. There’s a one-in-million chance of the genes falling into line the way they have. For the magic practitioner, there's no such thing as coincidence. The universe provides a checks and balance system. Most people think we’re backward out here on the bayou, but I wager we see things clearer than most.
“Are you wearing what you have on?” Eloi asks.
His voice sounds gentle, but I hear the skepticism in his tone. They want me to dress up like some English Rose at her debutante ball. The only dances I’d ever been interested in were those during Mardi Gras, where masks unleash our deepest desires and hide us from repercussions. We plan on making our announcement of the martial union at the very first Mardi Gras Ball, since the world damn near collapsed onto itself.
“Yes.” I glare at him, while he’s daring me to change. “If nothing else, I’m going to be myself.” I cross my arms underneath my breasts. I’m out of my element and in over my head. I’ve dated. I’m not a blushing virgin, who doesn’t know what I like or how to let a man know in detail how to please me. I was raised to be hedonistic, in the sense that I live for mutual pleasure. There’s no imbalanced sacrifice, faking orgasms or smiling when I don’t feel like it. Life’s too short to live partially.
This situation is different though. We took love out of the equation that makes up a solid, happy, relationship and replaced it with duty. We have a muddied mess waiting to be waded through like a marsh. Any Cajun worth a lick of salt will tell you, the danger with marshes is their docile appearance. They look safe to cross over, yet the minute you put a bit of weight on top—you’re sinking rapidly, fighting against tar-like mud. I refuse to be the idiot he steps out onto, a threadbare patch of grass and damn near drowns. I’m going into this with open eyes, a stiff-upper-lip and the hell-raiser attitude that’s seen me through until now. This is no time to be weak or demure. I’m going to lay it on the line and Ridge Tassin could get on board or find out just how stubborn Delta Marie Louviere can be.
* * * *
I stare out the window of the office, feeling like a man awaiting his turn at the gallows. I never wanted this life. It’s full of tough decisions, self-sacrifice, duty, yada, yada, yada. The leadership gig was my baby brother, Hunter’s bread and butter. He got off on the Boy Scout bullshit. Me, I like to be free. As usual, the thought of my brother brings sadness. The once powerful second in command and one-time leader of the pack, now struggles daily to regain more motor function. And Dad? I snicker coldly. Dad is long gone. He was the first major causality when hell came to earth and the Bohns bombed our camp. A few month later, Hunter damn near died in one of the many battles to control the Southern part of the United States. To say…I’m tired is an understatement. Now, they’re taking away the tiny sliver of independence I have left.
I rise from my seat in the conference room and walk out to the lobby. The glass windows reveal my bride to be, Delta Louviere. It’s been years since I saw her last and she’s only gotten better with time. My dick goes hard and I clear my throat. Now, is not the time to remember I haven't been laid in over six months.
Delta is grace embodied. With her slender frame and confident stride, she doesn't simply walk. She glides across the ground. Her long white gown kisses the concrete like a royal queen, acknowledging her subjects. The creamy color accentuates her rich mocha skin. Her curls are a living thing, alive and expressive, bouncing with every step she takes.
The black spirals hanging down past her shoulders entrance me. My fingers itch to pluck at the strands. I want feel their weight and test their elasticity. Even with the distance and glass between us, I could feel her power.
Ridge already read up on the matriarch of the Louviere line, but the reports didn’t do her justice. To her left her mother, Alma, stood regal and proud. She'd placed her waist-length snowy white hair back into a bun. It made her look less like one of the Fae folk, the Louivere are rumored to be related to. She must be well into her sixties, but she doesn't look much over her mid-forties.
If I didn't know better, I'd think they were sisters. They age well, that's a plus to the marriage. I walk out of the office and into the main room.
Unlike the lore, werewolves and shifters aren't immortal. Though, we do have incredibly long lifespans, along with these powerful witches. Logistically, we should make a good match. Still, it's hard as hell to look forward to something when I had no real say in the matter. This is a last resort. If we don't merge our people, we run the risk of being trodden by some opportunistic group waiting for an opening. We're rebuilding society, one brick at a time. I want to be a foreman, not the work crew.
“You ready for this?” Hunter asks.
I peer down at him.
Balanced on braces, he’s a work in progress. He progressed from a wheelchair and hasn’t looked back. It’s a tremendous recovery.
I force a smile. “Yeah bro, I got this.”
“If I were you, I’d be looking forward to consummating. Delta is gorgeous.” Hunter let out a low whistle.
“Yeah, yeah.” I loosen the tie around my neck. I tried to dress up and make myself presentable. I regret that move. The button up shirt and slacks are an itchy prison. The shiny dress shoes pinch my damn feet.
Yet, here she is, walking in like a queen. Delta opens the door. A cloying heaviness saturates the air, like a fat gray cloud ready to burst, to release a bone chilling rain.
“Welcome,” Hunter says. His voice is warm and inviting.
Alma smiles.
He’s good at this schmoozing thing. My eyes lock onto Delta’s large brown eyes and I’m caught in a snare.
We study one another like two opponents meeting in the middle of an ice rink.
“Thank you for coming,” I say.
“Like I had a choice,” she replies. “We both know neither of us really wants to be here. Let’s start this off the way we hope it will continue.”
Her words take me by surprise. She’s blunt. I admire her guts. This isn’t a conversation to have in front of others. “Let’s take this into my office. Hunter will keep you company, Ms. Alma. If that’s agreeable to both of you?”
Delta and her mother exchange a look and Delta answers, “We do find it agreeable. I trust you will keep in mind nothing is set in stone until the ink is on the paper. We’ve put our trust in you by coming here and entering into this merger with you. Don’t make us regret that.” Delta’s brown eyes flash golden.
The feel of her raw power prickles over my skin. The beast inside me stirs. He sniffs the air and growls. He likes her. Pleased, he settles down. “You won’t. We need this to work just as much as you do. The world has seen enough killing. Stabilizing the southern portion of the United States is our main priority. All eyes are on us, and we will not falter.”
Delta steps forward and I guide her into the office. I close the door and just like that, we’re alone. The room shrinks. I clear my throat. I’m not a negotiator, so I do what works best, be upfront. “It’s obvious you came in here with a plan. Tell me what you have in mind and we’ll see if we can meet in the middle.” I lean against the door, and she stands a few feet away. This isn’t a cozy sit down sort of conversation. I don’t blame her for keeping on her toes.
“First and foremost, I require honesty. If we go through with this, we’re in it together.” She gestures from herself to me. “I need to trust that you’ll have my back and never keep me in the dark.” She shakes her head. “Secrets are at the heart of every failed civilization. You want me to take your name, have your children and rule at your side? Then, I’ll need loyalty. The unwavering type you give to your pack.”
“You’ve done your research.” I’m impressed. For someone her age with this much riding on her small shoulders, she’s incredibly composed. I can smell anxiety, but very little fear. I’m intrigued.
“I’m not a stupid woman. The Louivere haven’t existed all this time without erring on the side of caution.”
“If I thought otherwise, you wouldn’t be here,” I counter.
“Point taken.” She holds her hand out in front of her and takes a deep breath. “Look, I don’t want to start out on the wrong foot here. It’d make for long, miserable life.”
“Agreed. If you’ll let me, I’d like to address your concerns.”
“Please.” She inclines her head.
Her stance and small movement adds to the quirky vibe I’m digging. “You will be more than a wife. You'll be my mate. That's a bond I couldn’t break if I wanted to. We will do this in the ways of our people, bond with blood and spirit. Then no lies will exist between us. I’m committed to this one-hundred percent.”
“But you’re not happy about it.”
“Are you?” I ask.
“It’s not what I would’ve chosen for myself. I was nowhere near the settle down stage.”
“Exactly. You and I, we’re kindred spirits that way. Our paths have crossed many times around the city. We live life to its fullest and never gave a second thought to convention.” I stalk forward, giving in to my attraction. “Perhaps we should approach this in the same manner.”
“Too much depends on this to play loose and free with it,” she whispers.
“Who said anything about playing loose?” I pause mere inches from her face. “I want things to be tight.” I run two fingers down her oval-shaped face.
Energy crackles between us and she gasps.
“I think what our city needs more than peace, is a little fun. We know how to provide that, don’t we, Cher?” I whisper into her ear. The animal inside me has taken more captivity than it can stand. It's clawing to get out. Her scent, her voice and her presence have him banging against the bars of his cage to get out. “I want to howl at the moon with you, Delta. We can drink too much, dance 'till we can’t breathe, and then I want to claim you properly.”
The pulse point in her neck jumps.
Her heartbeat thumps loudly in my ears. The beast wants to taste her, mark her neck and the sensitive areas on her inner thighs.
“Yes.” Desire drips from that single word. Her eyes are glassy and unfocused. “What about everything else?”
I meet her gaze and grin. I see the mischief flickering in her eyes. I have her where I need her to be. “We’ll worry about that after Mardi Gras. Laissez les bon temp roulez.” The need to shake off the sorrow and darkness that has tainted our lives rose up inside me.
“You think it’s that simple?”
“Non, and Oui. We are the rule makers now. The tone is ours to set. I think we need to go forth and show them the dark days are truly over. We’re doing more than rebuilding and reestablishing order. We’re taking back our lives and moving forward in light. The darkness is what got us here. It’s imperative we remember that and be the examples.”
She leans back and studies me from beneath her lowered eyelashes. “And how would you like to be an example…exactly how, Ridge? I know the way your people bond. They consummate the marriage in front of the entire pack.”
“And we will uphold that tradition. How about we give them what they want?”
Her chest heaves and her full lips part. “What do you think they want?”
Now, I know she likes the idea. “A good time, to see the new King and Queen jump the broom and take the throne. So, they feel like they have a safe starting point. For us to remember what joy felt like.” Her body trembles in my arms.
“We have so much work to do.”
“I know and we will tackle it together. For now, we celebrate. It’s what Nawlins has always been best at. Nothing will ever hold this city down for good. We throw the best damn party this city has ever seen and we hang on to a bit of that ole’ magic for ourselves, girl. We’ve been pushed to make this deal. We might as well make the best of it.”
Delta glances up at me through, long, thick lashes. “I can do that.” She smirks. “It looks like attraction won’t be a problem.”
She is definitely stating the obvious, as my cock strains to reach her while it pulls my pants taut. I walk us back to the wall and lift her with ease. She wraps her legs around my waist and hooks her ankles. The beast won’t be satisfied until I give him what he wants.
A sample of Delta.
“I feel your beast,” she whispers.
I shove her skirt up around her waist and grind against her. The heat pouring from her core carries the scent of lust and lushness. It’s working me into a frenzy. “Then, you know I can’t stop.”
A wicked smile lines her lips. “Never said I wanted you to.”
I capture her lips and she opens to me. Our tongues glide together. I take my time and learn the feel and shape of her mouth. She’s sweet and addictive. The more I sample, the more I want to have. Our heads tilt as we deepen the kiss, trying to climb inside of another. I’ve given up many things, but the woman in my arms is mine. The thought unleashes something primal inside me. We part for air. I nuzzle her neck and rub our cheeks together, covering her with my scent as I take hers onto my flesh. She’s floral with hints of spice. The combination of femininity and strength have me and the beast inside in a tailspin. I circle her pulse point with the tip of my tongue and nip at the vulnerable spot she’s allowed me to get close to. Noise vibrates in my chest.
“Are you purring?” she whispers.
I grunt, unable to form words as I sink my teeth into her flesh. She cries out and arches her body against me. My teeth break the surface and her blood trickles into my mouth while it coats my tongue. Her blood is a spiced red wine laced with powers. I gulp it down greedily. She grips my hair and tugs, pulling me from the haze. With my mania under control, I pull back and lick her neck. The wounds close, but the circular scars remain. It’s a mark so faded, the human eye would miss it. But those of our own kind will understand she’s mated. Appeased, I rest my forehead against hers. “If we don’t stop, I’m going to take you here and now. My beast will never be sated until I’m buried inside of your pussy and you’re filled with my seed.”
Throaty sounds spill from her parted lips.
The sensual moan nudges the beast inside me who lifts his head. I’ve always had a case of too much. Too much power, speed, ability and sex drive.
“What is this madness?” She cups my face in her hands, instantly cooling the burning passion with her distress.
“The call of the moon.”
“B-but I’m not a shifter.”
“You’re my mate. It means we’re a good match.” The words are an awakening of sorts. Despite the haphazard way we were thrown together, this woman was meant for me. I’d never felt a connection like this with anyone. Shifters often found me disorientating. But not Delta. The acceptance in her eyes tamed something inside me. I knew in that moment, I would do whatever it took to keep this woman looking at me just like this.