by Abby Knox
Vann
He’d been wondering all night what her honey might taste like. It was pure, uncut GiGi. Sweet, sticky, juicy, and intoxicating. How could he have waited five minutes before dropping this perfection on his face and devouring every drop? He was kicking his former self from 24 hours earlier for not dragging her by the hair to his house the second he knew who she was.
Destiny tasted better than anything he’d ever created with his chef’s hands. People called his talents, his food, magical. Everything paled in comparison to his one true person.
Vann marveled as she rode his face, egging him on to delve his tongue deeply into her heat. He was going to enjoy making her come so hard she would be ruined for anyone else.
There would never be anyone else. She was his. His soul had already claimed her. He loved that she liked to take control, that she made demands of him. The hair pulling almost sent him into orbit on the delicious pain.
He was crazy to ever assume he wouldn’t mate for life with anyone other than a shifter. Sometimes he’d briefly considered the idea of adding some calmness, steadiness to his life by mating to a Normal. But this…GiGi…was so much better.
He shifted her hips and sucked her clit into his mouth, massaging it with his tongue. It only took about two or three strokes before she shattered around him.
“Fuck!” she shouted.
Amid her full-body spasms, Vann had her on her back underneath him.
“Here we go, darlin’.” GiGi clawed his chest and smiled through her aftershocks while he rolled on the condom.
The moment he pressed the tip in, something took over her. She was like a wild cat. She squeezed, thrust, clawed.
The sounds coming from this small woman under him were from another world. Her face grew feral, and her nails dug into his back, demanding the closeness, the fullness of him deeper inside her.
Her expression grew wilder and wilder with every deep thrust. Her tightness was unreal.
He thought he was giving it to her so hard, but her body strained against him, her arms demanded more. Over and over again he gave in to her demands; she was far more needful than she let on during polite conversation…and he loved her for it.
The wild, feral face he watched underneath him then began to twist in pain, and he slowed. When she refused to let him slow down, he saw what was happening. She was losing control of the panther inside.
“Baby, are you okay?”
But he was helpless now, and she was unresponsive on this plane of existence. She might try to split him in half with the grip of her legs, and he was not about to try to stop her. The two of them were weird, mystical creatures, and something weird was definitely happening.
Her nails very nearly seemed to puncture his back, and the pain lit him up from the inside. The digging in, the holding on, made his body crackle with pleasure. “Baby, your nails. Fuck, yes!” And suddenly she was coming again, and his body orgasmed with her without letting go of his seed; he wanted to keep control of it to last as long as she did. Her body tightened around his cock, convulsing, and more strange, primal moaning ripped from her throat.
He watched her carefully, held her tight, spoke to her gently, hoping but also not hoping that she would come back to earth in a minute. She responded to his sweetness by planting her mouth at the base of his neck and biting down. Hard. “Get it, girl,” he whispered. It was excruciating but also a fucking delicious pain.
He let go of his control on himself and came again, this time filling the condom and probably spilling over and out.
As his explosion subsided, he tried to catch his breath enough to ask her if she was okay.
And then he felt it. The warm, damp dripping down his back. And more of the same on his front. He looked down and saw red. The metallic smell. Blood. A lot of it.
Vann looked back up at her and he saw that she was coming back down to earth. She had a look of horror in her eyes, and her pupils had fucking changed their shape. And as she panted to catch her breath, he could see her teeth, and those were not just teeth. Those were fangs.
Then something came over her face. It was an expression of remorse and panic. She immediately recognized what she had done, and she pushed him off of her. She screamed.
He tried to stand and follow her, to check on her, but he was feeling lightheaded. Everything had fuzzy edges around it, and her voice sounded like it was underwater. As Vann opened his mouth to speak, he passed out.
Chapter Twelve
GiGi
“I told you everything I know, Officer.”
GiGi was being held in an interrogation room at the hospital. Between sobs, she told the investigating officer who had been called to the hospital everything she could remember. Everything except the part where she had started to transform into a panther in the middle of having sex with one of the city’s most beloved celebrity chefs.
The half-truth had been embarrassing enough. They’d been having sex. Things got out of hand, and she had scratched him with her nails and bit his chest. She had bitten and scratched harder when he had egged her on. And that’s all that the DuChamp family attorney would let her say.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. The attorney glared and held up his head. “No more, GiGi. That’s it.” Then he pointed to the officer. “She did not apologize, she committed no crime.”
“Stop!” she cried. “Somebody tell me if he needs blood. Does he need blood, because I can donate! I have a universal blood type!”
“Ms. DuGrey,” the officer said, “I just need you to calm down and tell it to me one more time.”
The attorney stood up and put a hand on GiGi’s shoulder. “Is she under arrest? Because we are done here unless you’re going to charge her.”
The officer glared up at the attorney and then looked at GiGi with an expression of not so much anger as concern. “Ma’am, you are free to go. For some reason, he won’t be pressing charges, against our advice. Probably because he’d like to keep this out of the tabloids. But I’m going to caution you to be careful of who you get mixed up with in the future. Drugs are not your friend.”
Was this happening? Was she getting a D.A.R.E. lecture now when Vann was lying in a hospital bed? Was Vann really not going to press charges?
She didn’t know she could feel so many things all at once: guilt, sadness, remorse, terror, relief, and guilt again.
And then, an overwhelming need to see Vann.
As the attorney led her from the room, she made a beeline for the emergency room.
“Not a good idea, Ms. DuGrey.”
“I have to see him.”
“Your uncle gave specific instructions—“
But then the attorney’s voice was cut off by a loud clatter of metal and a man’s voice booming, “Where the FUCK is she?”
It was Vann. He was okay. And he wanted to see her.
Gulp. Better go and face the music.
She freed her arm from the half-hearted grip of the lawyer and bolted toward the sound of Vann’s voice.
“Vann!” she screamed through her sobs.
“GiGi, where the fuck have you…ow! Get that fucking IV away from me, and no I don’t want any fucking Jell-O!”
The crowd around Vann made it seem that everyone in GiGi’s family, as well as Vann’s people, had descended on the emergency room at the same time.
GiGi’s stomach fell to the floor, and she felt like she was going to throw up. So. Many. People.
Rosemary, Aunt Betsy, and Uncle Lionel were talking to the attorney in one corner. Ash, Bobby, and a few others she vaguely remembered from the engagement party all surrounded Vann. And there was the mysterious Pen LeFleur, who was still giving Rosemary a semi-cold shoulder. And, oh my God, Ash’s father was there, too. She recognized Jimmy Boudreaux from the chicken restaurant commercials. Good grief, was every New Orleans food celebrity here to behold the woman who tried to murder Vann West in the middle of coitus?
Vann had a large bandage on his neck, and he was wearing a ridicul
ous hospital gown. And yet somehow he still resembled a Viking god. His friends all looked like they were trying to get him to calm down so the nurse could stick him with a needle. He was having none of it.
When he saw her, his face transformed instantly from irritation and pain into relief, though she couldn’t fathom why.
GiGi was prepared for him to start accusing her of assaulting him, to ream her out, and declare that he never wanted to see her again. She held her breath and braced herself for the onslaught.
Instead, he pushed away his pack mates to make room for her to come to him. “Peaches, are you okay?”
She cried, “How are you asking me that?”
He didn’t answer, but stood up and squeezed GiGi so tight her feet lifted off the floor. He planted kisses on both her cheeks and lips and nose and forehead.
“You must be on some good hospital drugs,” she said, laughing and crying through their kisses.
“No, I’m just relieved you’re okay.”
She sniffed. “But your back! Your neck! I can’t believe you still can look at me.”
He set her down and held her face in his hands. “You got it backward. I only want to look at you, just you, ever again. And anybody that keeps you away from me again is going to get flayed.”
This comment was aimed at his crew, who stood watching the scene just as incredulously as GiGi’s people were doing.
Her Uncle Lionel approached in the middle of their mini-reunion. “Excuse me, Mr. West. I was wondering if you and I could discuss how we’re going to keep this out of the papers, in the interest of both parties.” He pulled a checkbook out of his breast pocket.
Vann didn’t even look at the old man. Instead, he smirked and kept his eyes on his girl. “Put your money away. The only thing you can do for me is agreeing to come to your own daughter’s wedding.”
Lionel huffed. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. If you think this little flesh wound is gonna make your family look bad in the police blotter, then buckle up. Just wait until the society page of the Times-Picayune finds out the wealthiest man in the history of New Orleans ain’t even man enough to show up to the wedding of his daughter. Everyone’s gonna read how Rosemary DuChamp was given away by her mother, and they’re all going to ask you about it at the club. All because she’s marrying his former business rival’s son over some long-forgotten feud.”
GiGi stared wide-eyed from Uncle Lionel to Rosemary to Aunt Betsy to Ash. They all looked like they were waiting for the old man to pounce on Vann with a vengeance. He was old, yes. But her uncle was loud and powerful and charismatic, and he could still make a Teamster’s nuts shrink into his abdominal cavity with one withering look. One doesn’t run the biggest shipping operation on the Gulf Coast with the demeanor of a pansy-ass.
But Lionel did not yell. He did not stomp his feet. What he did was tuck his checkbook back into his breast pocket, turn, and walk away.
Everyone watched him go. Betsy turned to follow her husband out.
“Mama?” Rosemary said.
Betsy looked back at her daughter and shrugged, whispering, “I do not know,” in answer to the unspoken question that was on Rosemary’s mind. Then she scampered to catch up with her husband. As the pair of them made their way down the hall, everyone could hear Lionel murmur, “I hear that daughter has got you helping with the wedding now. Oh, Betsy, how she gets her way with you, every time, is beyond me.”
Betsy replied. “That’s a trait she didn’t lick up off the street, Lionel DuChamp.”
Before they disappeared out the exit doors, everyone saw Lionel reach over and pull Betsy in close, followed by Betsy reaching over and slapping old Lionel on the ass.
Rosemary gasped, and Ash remarked, “Looks like the old man’s getting lucky tonight!”
“’Bout damn time,” said Rosemary, to a response of everyone’s laughter in relief that the tension was finally broken.
GiGi shook her head. “You people are crazy.” She still had tears streaming down her face.
Vann looked deeply concerned about her. “Thanks for coming, y’all, but my GiGi here and I are gonna have a little chat.”
They all reluctantly left the room, but not before Pen shot her a look of death.
“Pen, wait!”
GiGi wrenched herself free of Vann’s grasp and went to Pen, who held up impatiently.
“Pen,” GiGi said, “I don’t know you, so I don’t blame you for being angry with me. I know what this looks like.”
“It looks like several flesh wounds. Deep ones,” Pen said.
GiGi felt the stabbing pain of remorse grow deeper. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”
Pen crossed her arms. “You two may not be such a good fit for each other. Rosemary and Ash are outliers. You know that, right?”
“Pen,” Vann interrupted. “Please. I know you mean well, but you need to go. It is not your place to bring this up. GiGi and I have got this.”
Pen was hurt. “So you’ve made a decision.”
Vann and Pen exchanged looks. The sound that came out of Vann was laden with grave warning. “You know who I mate with is none of your business.”
Pen left without another word, but GiGi thought she could see her dabbing at her eye.
GiGi regretfully watched her go. So much for trying to make friends with Vann’s people. This was why GiGi threw herself into her work. She wasn’t good at relationships, platonic or otherwise.
“Hey,” Vann said as if reading her thoughts. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine.” He wiped her tears with his thumbs and kissed her mouth tenderly. When he was finished, he said, “So I guess we need to talk, Crazy Cat Lady.”
“Oh, Vann. I’m so sorry…”
“Oh no, you don’t. You do not need to apologize for who you are. But listen. We are not going to have this most important conversation while I’m wearing a butt window hospital gown. Let’s go get a whiskey and a steak and we can talk this thing out. Okay, Peaches?”
“But have they discharged you yet?”
He laughed. “I don’t know, and I do not care, but let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Chapter Thirteen
Vann
One advantage of being a wolf shifter who gets into a scrape, he can heal up quickly.
Vann hadn’t needed a blood transfusion or any extra treatment at the hospital, and his wounds were almost healed by the time they were halfway through their steaks.
It was perhaps a good thing he was still in a slight amount of pain and GiGi was afraid to touch him, because it allowed them to talk.
“So can I come out with the pack on a full moon sometime?”
The two of them were enjoying enormous steaks—hers with wine, his with whiskey—at a secluded chophouse on the river, the only people in the place in jeans and sneakers. To top it off, there was the bandage on Vann’s neck and more bandages on his back, giving his ratty hoodie a sort of humpback look. But one nice thing about dining with Vann was nobody questioned his attire at an upscale eatery. Celebrity earned him special dispensation.
Vann had just finished telling GiGi all about the history of the family and the curse that had been laid on the Boudreauxs, and how the present-day pack had all found each other.
“If you go back far enough in the family tree, Ash and I and the rest of the wolves are related. We all sort of discovered by accident what we were, and Ash’s parents, Jimmy and Charlene, took us all in when our parents didn’t know what to do with us. We all owe everything to those two.”
Then it was GiGi’s turn. The panthers had been cursed by a business rival that had found a half-assed voodoo practitioner who tried to have Beauregard DuChamp killed by wild animals. When it didn’t work, the dark magic and the injuries left behind also left a mark on the whole clan. GiGi’s parents had been shapeshifters, too. After they had been spotted by a couple of guys illegally hunting out in the swamp one night, the two panthers were shot dead. Uncle Lion and Aunt Betsy took
her in. Like Rosemary, she’d had a coming-out party, but being a deb and all that that entailed was of little interest to GiGi. Given the circumstances, Betsy and Lionel didn’t push too hard for her to live under their rules for being what they saw as a proper lady.
“It’s funny,” Vann said. “The DuChamps like to talk about their old-money status, but the wolves have been shifters way longer.”
GiGi grinned. “And now with Rosie and Ash getting together, who knows what that will mean.”
Vann added, “And don’t forget you and me.”
With almost everything out in the open, and GiGi assured that he wasn’t angry with her, she seemed more open to the idea of fated mates.
“I have very few friends outside of Rosemary,” she said. “You have no idea how hard it is to make friends with people. And this whole time you’ve been visiting me and I didn’t even know it. So I guess we were already friends, in a way. It makes it easier to accept the whole destiny thing. I still can’t believe you are Buster. My Buster, who I’ve been feeding hog intestines!”
“It’s okay, I kind of liked it,” he said. “Wolves aren’t picky, except when it comes to mating.”
GiGi blushed and bit her lip. He was never going to get tired of watching her do that.
“Fine,” he said. “You can come along on a hunt.”
“I can?” She clapped her hands. “Yay!”
“Next full moon, it’s a date. In the meantime, I need to know something. Do you get seasick on boats?”
“No,” she said. “Why?”
“I have big plans for you, Peaches.”
“What kind of plans?”
“That’s another secret. A nice one, though.”
GiGi
It was mid-March, and the night of the full moon was warm and damp, but the spring hadn’t yet had time to settle into outright humidity. Spring flowers were blooming as GiGi and Vann held hands in the dark, headed north to the other side of Lake Pontchartrain. The pack, she was told, was looking for a new hunting ground, after an incident in an alley downtown in which the wolf Ash nearly bit through a man’s throat who’d put his hands on Rosemary. As a group, they’d decided that while rules were changing, wolves were marrying panthers, strong feelings were high, and everyone was starting to lose control of their inner beasts, it was best to hunt away from Normals.
