Allegra’s delighted chuckled made Bethany and Michelle turn her way in confusion. “This is kind of perfect, isn’t it? Today of all days.”
“Are you okay, Allegra?” Brides occasionally got hysterical on their wedding days. Bethany was sure she’d read that somewhere.
“I’m wonderful,” Allegra said, her smile practically blinding. “Rousseau and I are getting married today and Bone Daddy is here and human. It’s perfect.”
Michelle was not smiling. “It’s only perfect if your fiancé doesn’t punch him into pulp and spend his honeymoon in prison. You remember Rousseau, don’t you? Not a fan of this Loa? A little grumpy due to that long-term possession situation.”
“Don’t ruin this with logic, Chelle. I mean, come on. This is some serious magic we’re experiencing here. The stars have friggin’ aligned. It has to mean something.”
Bethany glanced down in time to see those long dark lashes flutter open, revealing stunning amber eyes. Not Marcel. There is no Marcel.
He swallowed a moan of pain before turning his head and snaring her gaze with his own. He blinked. His tongue came out to wet his dry lips, and she leaned toward them, unable to help herself.
“Not quite ready for three of you yet, cher,” he said hoarsely in apology. “But if you find me something cool to drink and a soft bed, I’ll give you a morning to remember.”
His eyes rolled back in his head and he was gone again.
Allegra fell on her ass as laughter shook her slender body. “Oh yeah. That’s no doppelganger. That is the one and only Bone Daddy.”
Michelle smirked at Allegra’s mirth. “In the flesh.”
Bethany bit her lip hard, resisting the urge to give that perfect nose of his a good, hard punch before Rousseau got the chance.
“Well hell.”
Chapter 4
Someone must have gotten drunk last night. Their hangover was so bad even he could feel it. He tried to separate himself from the pain, as he had in the past, but it wasn’t working. In fact, the harder he tried to focus, the more he hurt. The unrelenting discomfort served to remind him that he wasn’t inside Rousseau or anyone else. He was in his own body. Human for a day.
So far, the experience left a lot to be desired.
He shifted his legs beneath the thin sheet that covered him. A bed. A soft bed, with blissfully cool sheets that were like heaven on his skin. That was a step in the right direction. Better than a cemetery for the things he had planned.
Where was he exactly? Had he only dreamed that Allegra and Michelle had found him? And the other female, who was she? The one with eyes like the deepest ocean, and a sharp, stubborn chin he had the strangest urge to bite. He hadn’t seen the rest of her, but he was sure it would be just as delectable.
“He must be thinking good thoughts.”
“According to you he doesn’t know any other kind.”
BD kept his eyes closed, fighting the urge to smile. Michelle and, he would guess, his blue-eyed siren. His erection grew thicker and he breathed out slowly, enjoying the sensation of blood and need filling his cock. It ached more than he’d expected, but it was a good ache. And it spread through his limbs, sparking nerves along the way. Alive. That was how he felt, knowing she was watching him. Watching his growing arousal tenting the sheet for her.
Come closer, cher. You know you want to.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay alone with him? I don’t feel good about leaving him yet, not after finding him unconscious, but I really want to hear what Mama has to say about this. Plus, Allegra’s dress needs—”
“I’ll be fine, Michelle,” Blue Eyes interrupted. “I’ll read.”
“With all that to look at, you’ll just read?” BD appreciated her disbelief.
“Honestly? I’m not sure what all the fuss is about.”
“What about those dreams you mentioned?”
What dreams? And why was he so insulted by the woman’s apparent disinterest? It was obviously a ploy to get Michelle out of the room so she could have her wicked way with him.
“They were only dreams, Michelle. Unfortunately, reality is something completely different.”
“So you’re saying you don’t find him irresistibly attractive?”
Bone Daddy inwardly huffed, waiting to hear the answer.
“He’s too pretty, don’t you think? I mean, for a fantasy, that’s fine. But in real life? I can’t imagine wanting to actually date a man who looks like that. Ruggedly handsome, yes, even large and adorable—but truly pretty? You’d always wonder if he’d like your new lace panties more on you or himself.”
Michelle’s laughter felt like knives on his skin. He held himself totally still as she left with a promise to return shortly. Didn’t move a muscle until he heard the door shut behind her, and the bedside chair creaking as Blue Eyes leaned back with a weary sigh.
Then he pounced.
Her breath rushed out of her lungs and he felt his own body throb in pain when her knee jammed into his side, but he got her beneath him. It was worth it to smile into her shocked, beautiful face.
“Too pretty?”
“You heard that?”
“Heard and accepted.”
“Accepted?”
“Your challenge to be better than your fantasies of me. I accept. Just as you knew I would, I’m sure.”
Those blue eyes darkened, pupils dilating, and he knew she could feel the heat of his erection pressing between her thighs. He was dizzy, overwhelmed by new sensations. There. He needed to be right—he rocked between her thighs—there. Damn, that was a strong, primal feeling. He wanted more.
“Oh, cher. I had no idea. Give me a minute to get my bearings, and then I’ll prove to you just how rugged and adorable I can b— Oomph!”
He landed between the bed and the chair, the hard drop to the floor jarring him from his tailbone to his teeth. “Fuck, that hurts.”
Blue Eyes leapt off the bed to kneel beside him, the concern in her expression slightly gratifying.
Slightly.
He smiled through gritted teeth. “Are you always so gentle with your lovers?
She flipped her long, raven-colored braid over her shoulder and pursed her lips.
Speaking of adorable.
“If you were my lover, I might be gentle.”
“Might is an intriguing word.”
“I’m great at gentle,” she corrected with a glare. “Unless, I’m being physically accosted by a Loa-turned-human with a penchant for canoodling with anything that moves.”
His bark of laughter surprised him, along with her wit. “Canoodling? I’ve read the word, but I don’t think I’ve heard anyone use that term in relation to me. They prefer to say pleasured, satisfied, fucked into oblivion. Shall I go on?”
“So humble. How can I possibly resist you?” She tilted her head, as if deep in thought before snapping her fingers. “Got it. I’ll think about your years with Rousseau, Allegra’s detailed book, a few stories Michelle’s mother told me, my—”
“Enough.” She was making his head throb, but sadly, it was the wrong one. “How did I get here? I can’t remember.”
She got to her feet, crossing her arms over her lovely breasts as she stared him down. It was clear she was trying to pretend indifference, but her pale skin blushed easily, and she couldn’t keep her eyes off his body.
All good signs.
“You copped a feel and I tossed you on your ass.”
“I mean here. To Ben’s mausoleum.”
“He carried you.” She stared at him, her expression softening. “You should get back in bed.”
“Only if you join me, cher.”
Her expression wasn’t amused. Tempted. But not amused. He started to stand up and cringed, more than he needed to, he admitted to himself, but it did hurt. Had he gotten a bad body instead of his original model? It was already mid-morning and he wasn’t recovered from his change yet. He didn’t have time for all this lying about.
He cringed again without pre
tense. “Damn it all.”
Small, strong arms wrapped around his waist as Blue Eyes helped him back to bed.
She liked him a little. He could tell.
When he was sitting up, the sheet once more safely draped across his persistent erection, he held out his hand. “Obviously, you’ve heard of me, but since we’ve yet to be formally introduced, you can call me BD. And what can I call you, Blue Eyes?”
“Bethany.”
“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
“Okay, Casanova.” She smirked at him, unimpressed, and his brow furrowed. What was wrong with her? He’d been vulnerable, which should have engendered her tender heart. He’d been dominant and impulsive, which normally led to submission. Now he was playing the gallant and she seemed more distant than ever. Did nothing work on her?
If you were still Loa, you’d already have her. This body is definitely faulty. Or maybe…
“Do you like men, Bethany?”
“That’s hysterical. Tell me, the last time you were alive—before you got the golden ticket to Loa-ville—did you live in a cave? A dark, lonely man cave where all women who weren’t interested in you were probably gay?”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Her laughter stung his pride again, but at least she wasn’t leaving. She relaxed into the chair beside him, pretending to read her book and giving him time to study her. Did she think he lied about her beauty?
He’d admit, it was subtle. Almost purposely so, as though she worked to hide it. She wore no makeup, her hair was pulled back in a simple braid, and an oversized T-shirt concealed her figure. But she couldn’t hide the intelligence in her eyes, or that full, sensual upper lip. He wanted to suck it into his mouth. Merde, he hoped she gave in soon. She did say he was pretty.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Blue Eyes.”
She shrugged carelessly. “I suppose I’ll have to forgive your arrogance since Michelle keeps mentioning you saving her life. But I’m still mad about you screwing with my dreams, so let’s agree that you’ll lay off the cheesy pick-up lines until my babysitting shift is over. Deal?”
He wasn’t sure what to address first. She knew a lot about him, and seemed to believe it without requiring proof. But she’d mentioned those dreams again.
Still. “I don’t require a babysitter. Shall I prove it to you?”
“Only if you want to end up on the floor for the second time.”
His chuckle was rueful. “I’m assuming by your threats of violence and your accent that you’re a friend of Michelle’s from New York, yes?”
“I don’t make threats.” Bethany leaned closer, curiosity making her careless. “Anyway, don’t you know? You’ve already been in my mind.”
“Alas, I haven’t had that pleasure. And unfortunately, for today at least, I’m without any of my regular abilities. What exactly are you accusing me of?”
Now she looked uncomfortable. “I think you know.”
“I really don’t. Was I in your dreams? If so, I’d love to know what I did to cause this kind of reaction.”
“You’re really going to sit there after the things we’ve done and lie to my face?”
“I’ll never lie to you.” He wasn’t sure why he said it, but he held her startled stare, willing her to move closer. To kiss him. He wanted, rather desperately, to feel her lips against his own. Those unusual lips. “You are a fiery one, aren’t you?”
She stared into his eyes, her curiosity turning to wonder. “Marcel?”
She pressed her lips to his and he moaned, so intent on his need for the kiss that it took him a moment to register what she’d called him.
Marcel?
1827
New Orleans
He should never have allowed it, but when she’d shown up at his door, a cloak covering her tear-stained face from the curious women he’d lived beside for years, he couldn’t find it in him to turn her away.
Shame filled him. This hotel-cum-brothel was no place for a young lady of social standing to know about, let alone visit. The place he’d defiantly made his home wasn’t fit for her. Neither was he. Not yet.
Fear for her added ice to his tone. “What were you thinking, Isabel? I told you I’d meet you at the park tomorrow. I told you never to come here. Do you know what could happen if anyone found you? What they would do to me—to you for allowing me to touch you?”
Isabel’s face was pale, her eyes wide and beautiful and heartbroken. “Don’t be angry, please. I had to come. Catherine said she saw you with one of the Devereaux sisters. She saw you, Marcel. Tell me she was being hysterical, that you wouldn’t—”
He gripped her by her shoulders and shook her, frustration making him rougher than he needed to be. “And I saw you at my father’s soiree last eve, Isabel. Dancing every dance with my half-brother, Antoine.” The man who was determined to run him out of New Orleans and steal Isabel merely because he knew Marcel wanted her. “His hands were on you as if he had the right, yet, I trusted you. Knew you were acting according to expectations. I trusted that you were faithful to me. Will you never trust me in return?”
She struggled in his arms, not to push away but to pull him closer. “Nothing happened,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I knew that she was wrong, but I’ve been so afraid, Marcel. If you knew…”
His jaw worked as he sought to restrain himself. “Your father?”
Her nod was miserable. “He’s barely let me out of his sight lately and he’s getting worse. The things he says, Marcel. I’m nothing to him if he can’t use me to enhance his standing. He’s told me so himself. I’ll marry or I’ll be sent away from my brother. From you. I’m scared he’ll force my hand before you and I can—I couldn’t survive it. Another man touching me. You not loving me anymore. I’d rather die.”
“Never say that.”
“Then tell me you’ve found a way. Tell me it will be soon, my love. Please.”
He wrapped her in his embrace, pushing off her cloak to bury his face in her sweetly scented hair. He had done this to them. He’d taken advantage of her innocence and ruined her future, because he followed his heart.
He’d spoken to his mother, knowing if anyone could understand, it would be her. She knew love was a power that couldn’t be dissuaded by logic or prejudice. It had a magic that defied all rules.
Instead of support, she’d given him a hard dose of reality. “If you love her the way you say you do, you let her go.”
“I can’t.”
“This town is the only place I know where you wouldn’t be shot on sight for being together, unless of course your half-brother and her father decide to come after you. And you know they will. I suppose you could take her back to France and get that fancy school of yours to give you a job.”
“Leave the country?” Would Isabel leave her brother behind? How could he live with himself if he took away the only family she’d ever had?
Her sigh was weighted with years of bitter regret. “You are my joy, Marcel. My only blessing. The last thing I want in this world is for you to leave me, so we will force his hand. You need to go to your father and ask him for his help to wed this girl and to give you protection from your brother’s envy. Perhaps he can send him away instead.”
“Hell no.”
“He owes me this, Marcel. I let him out of our agreement so he could marry that heiress. When you were born, he promised me he would always take care of you. And we both know of other children born from consorts who’ve been acknowledged and brought into society without creating too many waves.”
“I could never be brought into society. You know that. Not with my reputation.”
“Reputations can be polished and men reformed by love are often admired more, not less. He won’t say no, because he knows what I can do. And I know the truth about that pale shadow, Antoine. Things I’ve never shared, but I would if he denies you. Your father wouldn’t take that chance, I can tell you.”
Marcel was sick of the inequity, of the lies. The French
and Spanish men waved their money around, took whatever women pleased them, and changed the rules so they could have more. Women became octoroons, quadroons, anything but black so they could become mistresses. Set aside with unsettling ease and without care.
Men didn’t even have that option. Mixed blood or no, one drop meant you could be nothing but black. And a black man wasn’t allowed to follow his heart if it led him to someone like Isabel. He wasn’t sure his father could change that. Not with all the money and influence in the world.
But God help him, he was tempted, because he wasn’t sure if he would survive letting her go either.
She was waiting for his answer. And he knew he would risk anything to spend the rest of his life at her side. Even taking his mother’s advice. “Soon, Isabel. Soon, you and I will be able to walk through town proudly as man and wife, I promise. Soon I’ll be able to tell everyone you are mine.”
She lifted her eyes to his, some of the sparkle returning to the deep, damp blue. “And you are mine.”
He smiled, giving her a gentle push that sent her tumbling to the bed. “Show me.”
His heart raced when she reached down and grabbed the hem of her long, lacy blue day dress, pulling it slowly up to reveal her stockings and nothing else.
“You came all the way here alone, with nothing beneath your skirts?” He didn’t know whether to spank her or kiss her. But her mound was so prettily framed, making his mouth water for another taste, that he decided the spanking could wait.
He lowered himself between her legs, noticing her mischievous smile. Still so pure and young, despite their nights together. He hoped she never lost her innocent sensuality. “You are a naughty girl, Miss Isabel.”
She giggled when he leaned in to kiss her forehead, her nose, her lips, his body wound tight with desire, his heart full as he focused on making her forget the dingy room and the raucous noises outside his door.
Undo Me (Bone Daddy Book 3) Page 5
