Undo Me
Bone Daddy series, Book 3
R.G. Alexander
Undo Me
Copyright 2019 by R.G. Alexander
Formatted by IRONHORSE Formatting
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Author’s Note:
This book was previously published in 2010 as part of the book titled Possess Me by R.G. Alexander. It has been extensively revised, edited and is significantly longer than the original version.
Dedication
For Cookie. Love is the reason.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Thanks for Reading!
Other Books from R.G. Alexander
About R.G. Alexander
Chapter 1
“See the way she sifts her hair through her fingers, lifting it away from the kissable nape of her neck? She’s inviting you to smell the sun on her skin. To taste it with your tongue. Look at her. Right now, she couldn’t care less about securities and paperwork. For reasons that escape me, all she wants is you. She is ripe and ready for a good, hard fu—”
“Thank you, Ms. Dane,” the man said abruptly, glancing at his watch with an impatience he couldn’t quite conceal. “This was a very productive lunch, but I have a three o’clock so I think we should wrap this up.”
“Bah!” BD grunted in frustration, throwing his hands in the air. “Idiot. Did you hear nothing I said?”
“Of course, Mr. Bonneville. I’ll have the report in your inbox by morning.”
“Don’t forget to drop the receipt with accounting.” The man stood and turned away without a backward glance, his phone glued to his ear as he left the outdoor café.
And rudely walked right through BD.
“Fool.” He shouldn’t be surprised the man couldn’t see or hear him; the poor bastard didn’t even know when a beautiful, willing woman was offering herself up like a five-course meal.
The blonde’s shoulders drooped with a disappointed sigh. She drew her wallet from her purse and BD shook his head at the shame of it. He hadn’t even paid for lunch. The poor neglected thing. She couldn’t see him either, but maybe she could feel him.
He blew against her temple, focusing all his energy on ruffling the tendrils that had curled in the damp heat of the day. “You deserve better than that man, cher. Don’t waste your hopes on someone who is unwilling to appreciate you. If I were in his body, or any body at all, I would prove to you just how desirable you truly are.”
She shivered, glancing around suspiciously. Shaking her head and grumbling about stupid men and vibrators, she snatched up her briefcase, left her money on the table, and rushed off in the direction of the blockheaded male, leaving BD behind.
It was a state of being that had been happening far too often for his comfort.
First, Rousseau had ended their body-sharing bargain after years of mutual satisfaction to embrace monogamy with the admittedly breathtaking and courageous Allegra Jarod. And then Benjamin and Michelle had stopped bickering long enough to admit their feelings for each other, and were now blissfully playing house in a crumbly old mansion that should have been condemned years ago.
To be fair, Michelle had invited him to stay. They’d come a long way from her initial dislike of all things voodoo. But despite how tempting it was to remain in the company of someone who could actually see him in his current form, he couldn’t force himself to linger within those walls. Other than the young ghost who glared at him before scampering away without bothering with introductions, he wasn’t sure why.
He would almost swear some bokor had cursed the ground beneath it, to keep good spirits away. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have been pinned to the side of Michelle Toussaint these last few weeks? Not only did she have a sweet ass and a penchant for exhibitionism, she had also become a true ally after he’d rescued her brother.
She liked him. Not sexually, but in truth, and wasn’t that a rare and unexpected treat? That he would get to know her and Allegra now, see Rousseau and Ben in such a different light here, near the end of his grand, potentially mistaken adventure on this side of the Gate, seemed unfair in the extreme.
For over seven years he’d used a loophole to stay in this world, reveling in all the instant gratification, passion and excess that humanity had to offer. The things he’d done to those who knew to ask for him might someday be legend. But—and he’d never admit this out loud—he’d savored the quieter moments just as much. Rousseau’s visits with his mother. Casual conversations with vendors for Café Bwe. Reading a good book on a rainy day.
He loved everything about these mortals. Their resilience, their decadence, the sensations and heights they were capable of achieving. Which was why, when the open-ended deal Rousseau’s father selfishly made for his own pleasure landed in his immortal lap, well, he’d impulsively accepted.
If that had been against the almighty rules of the Loa families, they might have mentioned it years ago. Or forced him back to their side, as he’d seen them do to others who’d broken their laws.
To be honest, when so much time passed without repercussions, BD couldn’t help but wonder why his flagrant disobedience had been ignored. It was true that in his world, time had no meaning, and that seven years here might be seven hours there. Or seven lifetimes. He wasn’t sure how it all worked. He’d never cared. But still, no one had sought him out at all.
He might have gotten a complex if he hadn’t considered it the best of fortunes to be forgotten in New Orleans and left alone to indulge himself. Everything inside him told him he belonged here, and it wasn’t as if he’d hurt the people who called for him. If anything, he left them better than he found them.
“If we overstay our welcome where we don’t belong, the path twists and darkens, and we lose our way. Forget our purpose.”
How many times had Legba told him that? And as the keeper of the crossroads, he knew a lot on the subject. The basis of that belief came from experience. There were stories of those that had stayed on this side too long and become a creature like the djab, the rogue spirit who’d gone after Michelle, nearly killing Ben and her brother, Gabriel in the process.
BD had never been tempted, but that didn’t put him above the law, as he’d been reminded when he was forced to seek his brethren out to make his bargain. So now, in exchange for getting him to
Michelle on time and saving her from the rogue, BD had to agree to finally leave the human realm for good. Because his request was selfless and for the benefit of a Toussaint, he would be allowed to remain in New Orleans until All Saints’ Day.
He should thank Michelle’s mother for that, he knew. The mambo was favored by the Loa.
It was a little extreme, particularly after their protracted silence, but the decision was final and absolute. Not a death penalty, but eternity under house arrest.
One day. The day the Ghede family, and a few selected Loa, could walk the earth in human form. Their own human form. It was a strange idea. He couldn’t even remember being human. In fact, it was one of the reasons his unique agreement with Rousseau had been so tempting. His desire to experience what so many Loa remembered and were allowed to recall one day a year. Until now, his name had never been on the list. And now it would be the only time it was.
He’d take it, even as a consolation prize. What Loa wouldn’t walk through fire for the chance to be in a body all his or her own? No struggles with a mortal’s soul, no guilt or hesitation. He could do what he chose, who he chose, and feel everything firsthand. It would be paradise from the first rays of one dawn until the next.
Bone Daddy unchained.
When it was done, he would pass through the Gate of Guinee—the gate to the other side. There he would remain, regardless of the pleas of the needy and sexually frustrated voodoo practitioners. It would be difficult to ignore their call. What was he if not the Love Doctor of the Big Easy? Merely a specter, a wraith. A nothing.
But not yet.
The locals would be preparing soon. Modern celebrations were nothing like the grand spectacles of the past, of course. The whole city was a bit more somber of late. But it was still the Day of the Dead. Cultures and beliefs united to celebrate and remember those who had come before, and those who had moved on.
Mambo Toussaint was sure to have a grand gathering, particularly with all the good news she’d experienced of late. Her son’s return. Her daughter’s romance. He imagined her surprised expression when her favorite Loa joined the festivities as a human male, and grinned.
He could suffer a few more days of hunger and neglect, he thought to himself as he wandered aimlessly through the crowds. Soon enough he would feast.
“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” Michelle wove her car in and out of the late-afternoon New Orleans traffic like a member of the Andretti family. “We were so focused on finding Isabel’s treasure that we weren’t sure what to do with it or ourselves after we finally did. You were the first person I thought of. The only one, really. Plus, it’s a great excuse to get you out of the city and down here where you belong.”
Bethany clutched her seat belt, smiling weakly at her animated friend. She could hardly believe it either, but Michelle had dangled her obsession with Spanish colonization in the Americas like a juicy carrot in her phone calls until she’d relented.
With the promise of personal writings and artifacts, as well as a long-delayed visit with a good friend, Bethany had taken a few anti-anxiety meds and something for motion sickness, and here she was. In a city with enough history to keep her in heaven for years.
She’d always dreamed of coming here, had read everything she could get her hands on about the Crescent City. The parades, drinking and bead-throwing she could do without; but the mystery, the magical allure of New Orleans, had always called out to her.
Unfortunately, answering that call required travel. Since planes made her panicky and airsick, and trains were too crowded and, well, made her panicky, she rarely left her neighborhood, let alone crossed state lines.
It was no secret she was a bit of a hermit. Michelle, however, refused to accept that incontrovertible truth. From the moment she’d moved into the apartment across the hall from Bethany all those years ago, the social butterfly had been determined to make friends. To draw her out. Clearly the woman loved a challenge.
It was an unlikely relationship. Bethany worked from home as a textbook editor, surrounded by her books and her research. Living in the city that never slept meant everything she needed was brought to her door, day or night. It was all so convenient that she’d become a veritable recluse without making the conscious decision to be one.
Michelle, on the other hand, was constantly out on the town. Art galas, well-dressed men coming to pick her up and deliver flowers, as well as indecent proposals on a regular basis, she was a living, breathing big city success story.
Bethany was ashamed to admit she’d rebuffed her neighbor’s overtures more than once. She blamed her insecurities, since technically she could find nothing wrong with Michelle Toussaint, beyond the unusual friendliness that automatically made her suspicious. New Yorkers were not trusting people as a rule.
It hadn’t been until she’d discovered Michelle admiring her rooftop garden that they’d had their first real conversation. In short order Bethany had discovered where Michelle was from, and Michelle discovered that New Orleans was the magic password that turned her shy, anti-social neighbor into an irritating chatterbox.
By the time the sun had set it felt as if they’d known each other all their lives. Bethany had never been so comfortable around another person, had never come to rely on someone’s presence in her life the way she had with Michelle. She should have known it wouldn’t last.
It was Bethany who’d picked her up from the hospital after the mugging, who’d made sure she iced her eye and took her medicine. But she could tell the experience had shaken Michelle far more than she was willing to admit.
She’d gone home to Louisiana shortly after that, and Bethany missed her terribly. Their phone calls and monthly video chats weren’t enough, but they were the only things that kept her sane. And now, four years later, she’d gotten off the plane to find that connection still thrumming between them, as if no time had passed at all.
It would be such a shame if Michelle’s speeding got them killed before they could really catch up.
She forced a teasing smile to her tense lips. “So, you drive now?”
“Don’t start. I already get enough of that from Ben.”
“And he’s still alive? Does that mean your childhood nemesis is really more than your latest distraction and you weren’t trying to punk me?”
When Michelle blushed, Beth did a comedic double take. “As I live and breathe,” she drawled in a fake Southern accent, “I do declare, I have never seen Michelle Toussaint this out of sorts over a man.”
Michelle burst out laughing. “You in N’awlins now, chile,” she said saucily, exaggerating her own natural twang. “Don’t go pokin’ fun at how we talk.”
Leaning back against the headrest, Bethany took a moment to study her friend’s familiar features. “This place looks good on you.”
Michelle had changed since she’d left New York. Physically, she’d gone from curvaceous to finely honed. Her arms were lean and defined. Strong, Bethany knew, from all those defense classes she’d been taking. Her hair fell in wild spirals to her shoulders, where she used to keep it straight or severely slicked back. Her face was free of makeup, yet still glowing. She looked healthy. Happy.
In love.
“Well, New Orleans isn’t New York, but we certainly have our fair share of excitement.” Michelle smiled mysteriously. “And no, I’m not talking about Mardi Gras.”
Before Bethany could prod her for details, they turned into a circular driveway and she was too busy trying to pick her jaw up to concentrate. “Holy shit. This is where you live? Just the two of you? Do you have a map in case you get lost on your way to the bathroom?”
“We have more space to spread out in the South, you know. It’s not all rent-controlled cubbies and mile-high apartment buildings.”
What it was, quite simply, was a gorgeous example of antebellum architecture, complete with white columns reminiscent of the Greek revivalists and wrought-iron whirling around the upper balcony like thriving metal vines. It was beauti
ful but incredibly imposing. She wanted to run inside and run away at the same time.
Those live oaks haven’t always been in the yard.
With that random thought, her heart started to pound so hard against her breastbone she thought it might be trying to escape. What a strange thing to think. There was no way she could know about the original landscape, not unless she’d come across a photograph of this place in one of her books on New Orleans architecture. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, and it had the added benefit of comforting her nerves, so she went with it. She’d seen this place before.
“I knew it. Look at your face. I knew you’d love it. I told Ben I was bringing home the one person in the world who would truly appreciate this big, old monster besides the two of us.”
The front door opened as Michelle was speaking, and Bethany forgot all about the monster when confronted by the South’s answer for Adonis. The blond was ambling toward the car with a wide easy smile that was so purely unaffected and unconsciously sensual, she nearly forgot how to swallow. “Good grief, Michelle.”
“I know.” Her friend chuckled low as she shut off the engine. “Believe me.”
“How did you resist that for so many years?”
“Honestly? I have no idea. Now close your mouth, his head doesn’t need to be any bigger than it already is.”
The golden god opened Michelle’s door a second later and she was practically dragged out of the car and into his arms for the kind of kiss that usually preceded movie credits and had its own sweeping soundtrack.
Still in the honeymoon phase, her inner cynic instantly deduced. This was probably a bad time to visit unless you’re into being a third wheel.
“Can we all say ‘awkward?’” she mumbled, unbuckling herself with suddenly sweaty palms. When she was finally free, she fumbled for her door. “I can say it.”
It opened before she could get her fingers around the handle.
Undo Me (Bone Daddy Book 3) Page 1
