by Jaxx Steele
“I won’t let him. I will kill him this time—for all that he has done, and for Angele,” he said.
“I have summoned you to me for a purpose, Reynaud. If Baptiste has indeed stolen the power of the elders, he will be considerably stronger than you remember. You will need my help to ensure your victory.”
“I will do as you ask, Delphine.”
“Take my magic as your own.”
Stunned by her request, he jumped back, dropping her hand. “What? No. How can you ask—?”
Delphine reached for his hand and brought it to her chest. “I outlived my position long ago. Only Baptiste’s greed for control has stopped him from taking what he wants from me. He wants to wield all the power so no one can ever best him. The others grew weak and frail with time. They became much easier prey for him.” She tossed back the sheet covering her and sat up on the edge of the bed. “I pretend to be much weaker in his presence, but my control over all the elements has kept me stronger.”
“Delphine, I don’t know if I can—”
“Reynaud, Baptiste will come for me. I would rather give you my power than have him strip it from me.”
She’d made up her mind, and he knew it. She was also right. He would need her gifts to defeat Baptiste. Though he loathed losing her again, what choice did he have? He sighed.
She smiled at him. “Reynaud, you will never lose me,” she told him, as if reading his mind. “You will wear my amulet. I will always be with you.”
Reynaud nodded and slumped his shoulders. “Very well, Delphine. What must I do?”
She removed her necklace and Reynaud lowered his head so she could place it around his neck.
“Give me your hands, and no matter what, don’t take your eyes off mine. It will happen quickly,” she warned.
He did as he was told. Delphine mumbled an incantation he barely heard. Suddenly the expressive brown eyes he had known most of his life began to change. The chocolate color faded until it was a soft sky-blue. It was fascinating to watch. He couldn’t have turned away if he’d wanted to. The air cooled around him. Goosebumps rose on his skin and his nipples hardened as a chill raced down his spine. He blew a breath out and it condensed before him in a tiny cloud. Eyes widening, he blinked, and the blue in her eyes lost even more color. They were almost colorless—like ice. Delphine’s hands lay frosty in his. His teeth started to chatter as the cold traveled up his arms. He wanted to pull away from her arctic grasp, but her grip tightened to hold him in place. His breath heaved as the chilliness inside his chest gripped his lungs. He blinked rapidly, trying to hold her gaze, but it was getting too difficult. The cold was almost unbearable, and Delphine’s mutterings intensified.
Reynaud tried to pull away as her eyes turned bright, searing red. He gasped, almost jumping from his seat. But her grip prevailed. A sudden rush of heat infused his body, forcing him to howl. He was on fire from head to toe and yet there were no flames anywhere. Closing his eyes on instinct, he screamed. Delphine grabbed his chin, shaking his head and forcing him to look at her again.
“You must not break contact,” she told him frantically. “Hold on.”
He nodded and widened his eyes. Delphine continued to mumble. The heat steadily rose within him. Sweat ran down his temples and saturated his back. Just as he started to yell again, his body cooled. Delphine’s eyes returned to their original brown. New strength flowed through Reynaud’s being when her grip eased. She fell back against the pillow with a loud sigh. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, only dust remained where she had once lain. He fell to his knees exhausted, resting his head on the edge of the bed.
* * * *
“Make sure he doesn’t leave. I’m almost there,” Baptiste said then disconnected the call. “Hurry up, Reg. It would seem I have one more problem to deal with.”
The car slowed in front of the house. Baptiste exited the car, slamming the door. Taking the steps two at a time, he walked in and his men rushed him, talking all at once. He held a hand up to stop their chatter and moved toward the staircase. Baptiste went straight to the bedroom, needing to know who had the audacity to violate his home. The closer he got to the door, the angrier he became but when he turned the knob and found it locked, his fury rose to new heights.
He pressed his palm to the center of the door. The wood splintered and cracked beneath the paint until the door flew apart. He pushed past the debris and moved toward the inner bedroom. Inside, there was a man kneeling at Madame Cousteau’s bedside. Baptiste furrowed his brows at the sight of her empty bed. The man stood and stretched. Baptiste gasped as recognition dawned.
“Reynaud,” he said on a breath.
Reynaud turned with wide eyes. Baptiste raised his hand, and a blast of fire shot out of it, knocking Reynaud head over heels. Reynaud’s shocked cry of pain filled the room as his body slammed to the floor. Baptiste looked at his hands. His stunned gaze morphed into a sly grin. He moved across the room with both palms aimed at Reynaud. Reynaud tried to roll onto his hands and knees, but before he could, the second blast sent him sliding across the carpet into the wall.
“I should have known she would have found a loophole or something to keep you alive,” Baptiste said, kicking the chair out of the way.
Reynaud grunted as he tried to rise, but Baptiste was on him again. The two kicks he delivered to Reynaud’s gut lifted him from the floor. He rolled onto his back, wrapping his arms around his midsection. Baptist continued his assault by stomping his foot into Reynaud’s stomach then landing two straight punches on each side of his face. With a growl, Baptiste lifted Reynaud from the floor and threw him across the room. The trajectory sent Reynaud flying out of the nearby window instead of against the wall.
Baptiste walked over to the window. Reynaud lay on his back, holding his chest and sucking in harsh breaths.
“Shit. Now I have to go outside.”
Chapter Ten
Reynaud barely had a chance to catch his breath, let alone assimilate what Madame Cousteau had done before Baptiste had attacked him. He had just noticed that Baptiste was even there when he felt the first blast. His body ached all over. Reynaud had always known that Baptiste was a despicable being, but this recent assault showed a new low in his honor. Concentrating on mending his injuries, Reynaud became astutely aware of the new magic that flowed within him. It enhanced his healing abilities, expediting the process.
His eyes popped open. Springing to his feet, he gasped. Reynaud patted his body down as he processed recent events. Suddenly he snapped his head around to peer over his shoulder.
“On your feet already? That’s surprising—but it doesn’t matter,” Baptiste said, coming around the corner.
“Baptiste, Madame Cousteau has told me of your continued depravities since you set me up.”
“Did she? Well, I hope she told you enough to put you on guard.”
The blast that hit Reynaud did not have the same force as it did earlier. He stared at Baptiste and saw the same stunned look he knew had to be on his own face.
“Fine. I don’t need magic to deal with you.”
Baptiste surged forward, ramming his head into Reynaud’s gut. They stumbled backward with Baptiste holding onto his waist, but they didn’t fall. Reynaud beat Baptiste’s back with both fists. Baptiste grunted in pain with each blow and finally released him, falling to the ground.
Reynaud turned him over, and Baptiste yanked him forward. They rolled across the ground, punching each other until Reynaud gained the upper hand. He rose onto his knees, grabbed Baptiste by his collar and landed two punches to Baptiste’s face, dazing him. He dropped him back to the ground, knelt beside him then pressed down on his shoulders to hold him in place. Baptiste shifted back and forth trying to dislodge him, but Reynaud’s superior strength prevailed.
“No one has more reason than I do to hate you, Baptiste. I fully agree that you should be punished for the crimes you have committed against me and countless others, but I am not the one
to administer it. That sentencing still belongs to the council elders.”
Baptiste’s cynical laugh sounded harsh to Reynaud’s ears. “Are you serious? You have been gone too long. There are no more elders, you fool. They’re dead. Madame Cousteau led the council because she held the power to control all the elements. She was the last, but I saw the dust. I know she is gone. Did she die before you got here?”
Reynaud didn’t answer. He remembered Madame Cousteau’s words and they kept him silent.
“The men who sit on the council now are under my control. Who will punish me?” Baptiste asked in an unbelieving tone. “You? What will you do? Kill me?” he added with a mocking laugh. “That is the difference between me and you, Reynaud. Given the chance, I would kill you in a heartbeat. You, however, don’t have the balls to do what needs to be done.”
Reynaud met Baptiste’s challenging look. He leaned forward, causing his amulet to fall free from his shirt and dangle in front of Baptiste’s face. Baptiste’s eyes widened as he stared at it.
“You’re right, Baptiste. The power to reprimand you would have been Madame Cousteau’s, but since she has passed her magic to me, it would appear that her duties are now mine.”
He shook his head wildly. “No, no. This can’t be.”
“And I know of only one way to deal with a power-hungry maniac.”
Reynaud pressed his palm to Baptiste’s chest. Knowing no spells to invoke, he concentrated on what he wanted to do and trusted the magic inside him to carry it out. Baptiste’s jaw dropped open but no scream escaped. His body sank into the soil farther then shook all over. Abruptly, Reynaud snatched his hand away from Baptiste’s body then jumped to his feet.
Baptiste lay on the ground for a few moments then rose onto his elbows. “What…? What have you done to me?” he asked in a panicked whisper.
Reynaud sighed and turned away from him. “I did what was necessary.”
Baptiste’s breathing quickened. He grasped his chest, shaking his head. “My magic is… gone. No. No! What have you done?” he shouted. “What have you done?”
Reynaud continued walking away, leaving Baptiste’s anguish-filled screams behind. He picked up his pace, eager to return to Cameron’s arms.
The journey home didn’t take as long as it did to get him to Madame Cousteau. Fatigue never conquered him. Reynaud had walked through the day stopping only to eat and drink. The streets were deserted and the restaurant had been closed for hours when he arrived home late in the night. Reynaud went around the back to enter through their private entrance.
The thought of Cameron made him sprint up the stairs. After a quick shower, he slipped beneath the sheets beside his lover. Cameron scooted back into him as he slept, seemingly sensing his presence. Sliding closer to him, Reynaud sighed. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed his lover until he held him in his arms again. Suddenly Cameron snapped to a sitting position with a loud gasp.
Reynaud raised his hands. “It’s me, baby. It’s me.”
“Rey!”
Reynaud pulled Cameron into a hug. “I missed you so much.”
Cameron’s rigid posture prompted Reynaud to release him. He looked into his lover’s stern gaze.
“You missed me? I find that hard to believe, Reynaud. You left without a word, note, or anything. You’ve been gone for three days. You missed me?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t call or even throw me a text to say you were alive. How is that missing me? How could you do that to me?”
Reynaud heard the hurt behind Cameron’s irritated words. He knew when he left he would have to deal with injured feelings and anger when he returned.
“Sweetheart, please let me explain. I didn’t mean to hurt you. That was the last thing I wanted when I set out on my journey.”
“I didn’t hear anything from you. I didn’t know if something had happened to you or if you were coming back at all.”
“Wouldn’t come back? How could you even think that? I love you.”
“You could have taken me with you, but you chose to leave me here…alone,” Cameron said, moving away from him.
“Cameron, I couldn’t take you with me.” He turned Cameron’s face back toward him. “I had no idea what I was getting myself into or where I was even going. I couldn’t take the chance of you getting hurt.”
Sadness and pain shone behind the unshed tears in Cameron’s eyes, but Reynaud saw understanding dawning as well. He leaned against the headboard and opened his arms.
“Please, Cam.”
Cameron stared at him for a while longer then positioned himself against Reynaud’s chest. Reynaud sighed with relief. Holding Cameron closer, he plunged into telling his lover what had transpired over the last few days they’d been apart. When Reynaud’s tale was finished, Cameron looked up at him.
“So where does that leave you? Are you really head of the council now?”
“It would seem so. Madame Cousteau gave me her magic. This amulet allows me to control and wield the power of all the elements at once. All she asked was that I restore the council.”
“But you’ll have to go find Marguerite to start that again, won’t you?”
Reynaud nodded.
“So you’re leaving again.”
“Yes, but not yet and not alone. I plan to spend the next few days right here with you. After that, I want you to come with me to find her. I don’t want to leave your side again,” he told him, dropping a kiss on Cameron’s mouth.
“Yes, well, I’m all for us spending as much time as we can right here in this bed. I missed you too.”
Cameron climbed over him and glided his hands over Reynaud’s nipples. A shiver traveled through his body and his cock pulsed with need. Though still upset, Reynaud could tell that Cameron had already forgiven him for leaving so abruptly.
“You have a lot of make-up time to put in, Mr Leduc,” he said with a sly grin. “But now that I know you’ll be back, feel free to go find Marguerite in peace—but not yet. Let’s start the make up now and deal with the search later,” Cameron added, discarding his pajamas.
Reynaud’s happy laugh shook his whole body and he rolled his lover over. “I’m looking forward to all of that.”
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
A Package Deal
Jaxx Steele
Excerpt
Chapter One
Phillip sat in the back of the limo holding his son close to his chest as the small boy slept peacefully. He watched the scenery go by for a while then looked down at the child. His poor little Tyrell had no idea how much their lives had just changed. The toddler stretched in his arms, and a small smile touched Phillip’s lips for the first time in two weeks. Tyrell’s tiny fist flailed around for a moment as he adjusted in his father’s arms, then he settled back down to sleep.
Phillip let a lazy finger slide down the light brown skin of his son’s chubby cheek, and sighed. As his son grew older, he would notice the obvious differences between them. Phillip’s hair was light brown and straight while Tyrell’s was darker and curly. Tyrell may grow to six feet tall like Phillip had, and he might even share Phillip’s slender physique, but Tyrell would never have the same white skin. Phillip was pleasantly surprised to see that his son had inherited the pale blue eyes that ran in the Drake family, but in the future, when Tyrell looked into the mirror, he would see bronze skin that was a gift from Monica. The mother who was now lost to him.
It was up to Phillip to keep Monica’s memory alive for Tyrell. He would never know the mother he had gotten his beautiful features from—his lips, his nose, his smile. Somehow Phillip had to find a way to explain all that had happened to their son. Suddenly, he held the boy fiercely close, rocking him back and forth as tears flowed freely down his cheeks. He had no idea how he was going to do that.
The limo slowed to a stop, then the back door swung open.
“Mr Drake, we’re here.”
“Yes, right.” He wiped his face quickly. Gathering Tyr
ell and his things, he shifted the boy to his shoulder and slid out of the limo. “Thanks for everything, Dennis. I know you were only supposed to drop me at the church, but—”
Dennis held his hand up, shaking his head. “No thanks necessary, Mr Drake. I couldn’t leave you and your baby stranded at the church.”
“When we got dropped off this morning, I… Well, I guess it didn’t occur to me how we would get home,” he explained softly.
“Yes, well, you had other things on your mind.” Dennis closed the door and tipped his hat. “Again, Mr Drake, I’m sorry for your loss. I hope everything turns out great for you.”
Phillip nodded and watched the limo drive away before he took Tyrell inside. He stood in the doorway of the house that Monica had decorated and took a deep breath. The whole house screamed of her. They had only lived in the place for a year, but it was their home. They had not been a quintessential married couple. Monica had known Phillip was gay when they’d married, although she’d had no clue about it when they’d hooked up on that one fateful night when Tyrell had been conceived. In public, they’d been a young, happy couple, and when it came to Tyrell, they had done everything together, but in the privacy of their home, they were friends. He’d had his bedroom and she’d had hers.
Phillip carried Tyrell to his room and put him in his crib, then he went to his own room to change clothes. As he pulled his pants off, he sat on the bed and was suddenly overcome with emotion. He fell against his pillow and cried.
When he opened his eyes again, the shadows in the room had shifted position and he knew that hours had passed. Phillip sat up and reached for his cell phone.
“Yes, hello?”
“Hi, Mom, it’s me.”
“Phil, sweetheart, are you all right?” his mother asked, her voice full of relief. “We haven’t talked in so long.”
“I know, Mom. I’m sorry. I just got caught up in some stuff, then one thing led to another and—”
