by Elle Thorne
She beamed at him. “I was born ready.”
That was what worried him about this sister of his. She’d accept any challenge, jump into any situation. Hopefully she’d never jump into one that would leave her wishing she hadn’t.
He took the steps slowly as the ladies were in heels that left him wondering how in the world they managed not to fall.
At the base of the stairs they were greeted by a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes. The rest of the family was in the room already, along with three dozen shifters that Lézare had done business with over the years. Many of them lived in the US. A few were from Europe, a handful from the Middle East, and some from Africa.
No one had a mask on yet as the only event that required masks was the masquerade ball. To prevent any issues, like the ones in 1891 and 1897, all mated and bonded shifters had to wear a wristband made of black satin with a gold stripe running lengthwise down the center.
Lézare released himself from his sisters’ grasps and appraised the room.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
No sooner had the thought struck him than Evie whirled on him, her face aflame, her hazel eyes glowing golden fury.
“He’s here,” she hissed.
“I see,” Lézare responded around the smile he’d plastered on his face.
“I thought you said—”
“I never said anything. I don’t know anything. I invited him because I had to. He’s family now.”
“This is unbelievable.” Evie’s voice was controlled, but Lézare knew her too well. There were tears behind the anger. “My own brother and sister side with anyone but me.”
Lézare looked at Alexa, pleading with his eyes for her to help him with their sister.
Alexa gave him a subtle shrug.
“Let me…” What could he say? Let me take care of it? Let me kick the Martinez brother out? He was screwed, either way.
“Monsieur Arceneaux.” One of the temporary staff approached him. “You have a phone call.”
“This isn’ a good time. Tell them to call back.”
“I did mention that the timing was not good. I was told it was urgent.”
“I’ll take it in the den.” He exhaled the words on an exasperated breath. This had better not be a last minute RSVP. He handed the staff member his flute and told his sisters he’d be back shortly.
As he departed, Alexa and Evie were hissing at one another about Mason’s surprise appearance.
Chapter Four
Lézare picked up the extension in the study, still able to hear the buzzing of the crowd at the cocktail party.
“This better be good,” he muttered to himself. “Lézare Arceneaux,” he answered.
“Arceneaux. Natalya’s missing. I thought she might have gone to After Dark, but they said she wasn’t there. I heard that Vax was coming to your place.” That voice, one Lézare hadn’t heard in months, prompted a drum tempo of fear in his body.
His gut tightened. A million of the fire ants that seemed to be overrunning the South chewed on his stomach lining. Was Natalya okay? Had she been hurt? His brief encounter with her had left an indelible mark on him. He couldn’t seem to get her off his mind.
She’s fine, he tried to convince himself. Of course she was fine. She had to be.
If she’s fine, then why is her father calling me?
He’s overreacting. He has to be.
“Yes, Vax is here. Are you sure she’s missing? That she hasn’ gone on a shopping spree, or isn’ chasing a new boyfriend around town?”
Just saying those words, the very thought of her involved with someone else, tore through him with the intensity of a welding tool ripping through metal.
“I’m certain. She’s changed, Arceneaux. She hasn’t been the same since she returned from… your place. She’s been concentrating on her studies. No parties. Nothing. She’s a different woman.” The sound of a ragged breath being drawn came across the connection. “I want my daughter back. What if she’s been kidnapped? What if she’s been taken by the same ones who put on the underground fighting? Would your group be available to help find her?”
Lézare couldn’t see anyone being able to force Natalya to do something she didn’t want to do. He thought of the last time he’d seen her; it had taken several of his men to subdue her. He had no doubt she could take care of herself.
Then why am I so damned worried? Why does my pulse feel like it’s about to go over the cliff?
“We’re really not in the shifter locator business.” He had no business looking for her. He had no business wanting that woman. She was trouble. High-spirited, dramatic, and…
Damn her.
She was far too sexy, far too desirable. He couldn’t deny the attraction.
“You helped me find her before.”
“I was helping my cousin Vax that day. He felt responsible for her, and wanted to be sure she was returned to you unscathed.”
“Arceneaux, I’ll compensate you handsomely.”
“No promises.”
“Wait. My phone says I have a text.” There was a pause. “It’s from Natalya. It says she’s going out of town for the weekend.”
“Oh, then great, we know she’s fine.”
“No. I don’t trust it. It doesn’t sound like her. Listen, I’m telling you, she’s not the same woman. I need you to help me. To help her.”
Did he really want to get involved with looking for her? How the hell was he supposed to get her off his mind if he spent his time looking for her?
“Tell me the last time you saw her and where that was.”
“Thank you.” Her father’s voice was a tired old man’s voice. So different than the last time Lézare had talked to him.
Chapter Five
Natalya looked at the invitation. She’d looked at it for weeks, since the day it had arrived at her father’s house. It was worn from her fingers tracing the raised gold lettering, creased from where she’d folded it so she could keep it close all the time. If she didn’t have her purse, she carried it in her back pocket.
A part of it was stained. Tears she’d shed one day. Silly tears.
She tried to think of the girl she used to be. The girl she’d been months ago when she’d first met the man who’d made her shed those tears. She was a petulant, petty, vengeful terror then. She’d shown her worse side. She’d been a brat. Her father’s brat.
When Lézare and his men brought her back to her father’s house, she’d stomped her foot and stormed off.
Who the hell was I?
She didn’t like the girl she used to be. She didn’t like her at all.
Shortly afterward, she’d enrolled in several courses at the college, and then, unbeknownst to her father, she’d started working at the homeless shelter on Fridays and Saturdays.
Her French-tipped manicure was long gone, replaced by chewed nails on fingers that had calluses on them from wielding a kitchen knife at the shelter.
During hour after hour of chopping vegetables, she’d reflected on who she used to be, and began to appreciate the little things in life, like smile of a child at the shelter when she gave him an extra dessert. Or the appreciative glow on one woman’s face when Natalya brought in more than half her wardrobe so the woman would be able to go apply for a job.
Natalya actually liked who she was now. She liked the new Natalya a lot.
And others did too. She met new friends at the shelter and at school, friends who didn’t care that her father was rich, or that he ran a multi-million-dollar corporation and was one of the more powerful shifters in town. Well, actually, they didn’t know that last part.
She sat behind the wheel of her Acura and studied the invitation, her fingers tingling where they traced Lézare Arceneaux’s name.
Him.
He was the one she wanted. And he knew who the real Natalya was. The hot-tempered, impulsive brat he’d met.
Except I’m not that person anymore.
Much.
She was still hot-tempe
red. Still impulsive and spontaneous. She just wasn’t a little shit anymore.
Oh, who was she kidding? He wouldn’t want her, not when he could have any stunning shifter he wanted. Why would he want her, with her overabundance of curves, her overly full lips, her thick brows, and even thicker thighs?
Her phone buzzed in the passenger’s seat. She didn’t want to look to see who it was. She’d left home, didn’t want to talk to anyone, hadn’t left a note.
Maybe I’m still an inconsiderate brat. I shouldn’t worry Papi like that.
She picked up her phone and texted her father a short message saying she was going out of town for the weekend. At least this way, she knew that he was aware she was okay.
She knew what she had to do. She had to go to Louisiana. She had to go to Arceneaux Point.
Natalya was an hour away from Austin, an hour into her trip to Louisiana, when she stopped to gas up and grab a bottled water. She’d just buckled her seatbelt and picked up her phone to check the time when she found a text waiting for her.
It was from Monica, one of the volunteers at the homeless shelter.
Monica: Ms. Claudette won’t eat dinner. She’s refusing to. Said she can’t eat without you.
“I’ve created a monster,” Natalya mumbled to herself, though a smile crept onto her face at the thought of Ms. Claudette.
White-haired, with fine wrinkles that were a testimony to her longevity, Ms. Claudette was one of Natalya’s favorites. No one knew where she’d come from or how she’d ended up homeless. She spoke with a southern accent that made Natalya think of Lézare Arceneaux every time the older woman spoke.
Hearing Ms. Claudette talk was like a trip down a wonderful memory lane, one that always resulted in a tiny bit of heartbreak for Natalya because she knew there was no way she’d ever have a future with Lézare.
Natalya glanced at the time on the phone’s screen. She’d miss the cocktail party at Arceneaux Point for certain if she went to the shelter to see Ms. Claudette, because there was no way she’d get by without spending at least an hour or two with her.
Natalya sighed.
She didn’t know why she bothered thinking about it. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t going to go see Ms. Claudette.
Of course she was.
She’d shoot for the masquerade ball, since she’d never make it to the cocktail party on time.
She made a U-turn in the parking lot and entered the ramp to Highway 290, going west.
Natalya pulled into the parking lot at the homeless shelter. It was after dinnertime already, but if Ms. Claudette hadn’t eaten, Natalya was certain they’d have held a plate for her.
She locked her car, avoided the loose boards on the front porch, and entered the dilapidated building.
Monica greeted her with a come-hither wave. “She’s in quite a mood. Said you told her you’d see her soon and you were here every Friday and Saturday night, and she wasn’t having dinner without you. We told her you were going out of town. She wouldn’t have it.”
“I’ll talk to her.” She would have to explain to Ms. Claudette that she wouldn’t be there tomorrow night. She would absolutely not drive back to eat dinner with her. She wanted to see Lézare again, and only the cover of a masquerade ball would allow her that. She had to go. Had to.
“She’s in the library. It’s the only place I could arrange for her to have some peace while she ate. But we can’t keep breaking the rules for her.” Rolling her eyes, Monica handed Natalya a plate that was warm to the touch. “Good luck.”
Natalya didn’t mind that Ms. Claudette was demanding and she had to accommodate her, but she knew it created extra work for the staff. She hadn’t meant to spoil the elderly lady.
She knocked on the door and pushed it open.
“It’s about time.” Ms. Claudette, who was sitting in a wing chair, turned her head away from the window.
“Shame on you,” Natalya chastised. Her tone matched the smile on her lips. “You’ve given the staff a rough time of it.”
“You’re supposed to be here Friday and Saturday nights. I told them there had to be something wrong if you weren’t here.”
“Ms. Claudette.” Natalya set the plate down and pulled the table closer to the older woman. “I told you I’d be gone this weekend.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Oh, yes, I did. And don’t go pretending you don’t remember. That act won’t work on me.”
“I mean, no, you can’t go.” A flash lit up in the depths of Ms. Claudette’s eyes.
Natalya would have sworn it was a blue flash, but Ms. Claudette’s eyes were brown.
The flash happened again. Definitely blue.
Natalya didn’t want to be caught staring, so she looked out the window. “You need to eat, Ms. Claudette.”
“I know what you are.”
Natalya froze. It felt like an arctic gust had washed over her body. She knows. She knows I’m a rich brat.
Her tigress snarled.
But I’m not that person anymore.
“Wh—what—what do you mean?”
Claudette paused, her fork midway between the plate and her mouth, and tucked back a stray lock of hair that had escaped a wayward bun. “A tigress. A shifter.”
Natalya gasped. “Who—” She couldn’t think of what else to say.
How could Ms. Claudette know what she was? How did she even know about shifters at all?
The blue flame in the back of Ms. Claudette’s eyes grew more brilliant.
“You’re…” Natalya took a chair from the table and sat next to Ms. Claudette. “What are you?”
“I’m inside Claudette.” The voice was different than Ms. Claudette’s.
“Who are you?” Natalya whispered. A shiver passed over her body.
“My name is Allynne.”
“Where’s Ms. Claudette?”
“I’m here.” This time it was Claudette’s voice.
“So I can talk to both of you at the same time?”
“Of course,” Claudette said. “Allynne has been with me for most of my life.”
“Actually, I’ve been with her for all of her life. I merely chose not to reveal myself to her until I was certain she could handle it. You have no idea how many commit suicide because they think they’ve gone crazy when we enter their body and join with them.”
Natalya shook her head. “This is unbelievable.”
“Oh, really?” Claudette said. “And having a tiger inside of you is more believable?”
“For me it is. It’s always been this way. But I’ve never seen…” Natalya exhaled with a whoosh. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“You’ve never heard of an elemental?”
“Ohhh. Yes.”
I’ve just never met one. I’m pretty sure I should be afraid of them.
She’d heard that elementals could control the weather, fire, water… She tried to remember what else she’d heard, but it had been so long ago, and nothing really stuck in her mind.
“I’m dying,” Claudette said, just like that, without any sugarcoating.
“Ms. Claudette, we all die, sooner or later.” Natalya put a comforting hand on the older woman’s arm.
“No, she means soon,” Allynne interjected.
This was eerie. With both of them in the same body, it was difficult to discern which one would speak until they’d actually said something.
“And Allynne needs to move.” Claudette’s eyes glazed over. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” Allynne said. “It’s been a wonderful life with you. I wish you’d stayed with your family, though.”
“You know I couldn’t,” Claudette responded. “They thought I was a sorceress.”
“They shouldn’t have cared.” Allynne’s voice was angry.
It felt surreal for Natalya, watching the two conversing, but using the same mouth, the same lips, though very different voices.
Allynne didn’t have Ms. Claudette’s accent. It remi
nded Natalya of Vax’s accent a bit, but different, and it was quite unlike Ms. Claudette’s southern drawl.
Natalya found herself feeling sad, wondering if Allynne would die with Ms. Claudette or if something else would happen. “What happens to Allynne when you…” She couldn’t say die. “…go?”
“She leaves me.” Claudette clasped hands covered with skin so frail and translucent that it reminded Natalya of paper.
“Leaves you? And goes where?”
The blue light shone brilliantly in Claudette’s eyes. “I find a new home.”
“You mean a new person?” Natalya moved her chair back.
“Don’t be afraid.” Allynne’s voice sounded otherworldly, as if it was coming through a hollow tube. “I don’t seek out mature individuals. I am eternal. I have no reason to rush. I prefer to join with bodies that are not formed yet.”
“I’m not sure I like this conversation.” Natalya’s voice was shaky.
I could shift and kill Allynne in less time than it would take for someone to come in. But that would mean killing Ms. Claudette, too.
She could never do that. She’d become fond of Ms. Claudette and their gin-playing evenings and their talks.
“Put your tigress away,” Ms. Claudette said.
Natalya cocked her head.
“I see her in your eyes. Just as I know you saw Allynne in mine.”
Natalya nodded.
“Claudette is fond of you,” Allynne said. “And I like her to be happy. She has moments, you know.”
Natalya knew; she’d noticed. “And you help her out during those moments?”
“I could never abandon her. I’ll be with her until the end.” Allynne’s voice became thick, as if she were choking on tears. “She wants you to be there too.”
“Why?”
“You remind her of someone from her past. Of course, she’s not really remembering this quite right. You look nothing like her. But as you do, she would also visit those less fortunate.”
“Who do I remind her of?”
“A distant relative of hers, by marriage, long dead now. Celine Arceneaux.”
