Primal Song

by Danica Avet

Shit. Daisy sniffed her arm and couldn’t smell Ram anymore, but that might be because she’d grown used to the scent. She cringed, waiting for her mother to spin around in full, excited mama-bear mode and ask when the wedding was. Instead, her mother hurried into the kitchen and gagged.

  “When was the last time you changed your trash, Daisy Lynn? I can’t believe you live like this,” she announced amid thumps as she emptied the trashcan. She mumbled something about kids who never learn, but Daisy was too relieved to care.

  She’d cleaned the house with bleach and lemon-scented cleaners in the hopes it would drown out the smell of lion and bear sex. If the trash was all Claudette scented, then she was safe. Thank God.

  Her mom appeared in the doorway again after putting away the food, her snout lifted to scent the air. “Smells nice and fresh in here, cher. You stayed home to clean?” her mom’s voice increased in shock. Daisy wasn’t known for her domestic skills. Her mom slapped a hand against her forehead and cheeks. “You don’t feel feverish. Did your headache come back?” Her brown eyes drifted to the new sofa. “And you got a new sofa?”

  “Uh…” Daisy scrambled for an excuse. “I think I ate something bad at the festival last night and um, I threw up on the sofa so decided I should get a new set. I needed it anyway. I thought you were working today.”

  Claudette shook her head. “I’m going in after I make sure you’re okay. The girls can handle it ’til I get there.” She clucked. “I told you not to eat hotdogs from Phyllis’ booth. She lets them sit out too long.” She checked out the new furniture. “It looks very nice, although I don’t know why you always have to get leather. It’s so expensive. When you have cubs you’ll only end up throwing money away.” She fussed and smoothed out a pillow. “And speaking of cubs, did you hear about that lion?”

  Daisy licked her suddenly dry lips. “Wh—What lion?”

  The sofa creaked softly under her mama’s weight as she settled in for a visit. “That singer from last night. I heard from Molly who heard it from Monk that the lion approached him to buy Red House.”

  No fucking way. Daisy gaped at her mother. “Red House?”

  Her mom sighed. “I know you wanted to buy it yourself, cher, but Monk was asking way too much for it and you would’ve never been able to afford it.”

  “But it’s…ours!” Mine, her soul cried.

  Red House, the house Maison Rouge had been named after, had belonged to her mother’s family since the mid-1700s when Fleur Lebeau came to the New World from France. Daisy had been saving money to buy the old homestead from Monk’s family for years and he was selling it to Ram?

  She shook her head. “Why is R—the lion buying it? Is he planning to knock it down?” Oh God, please don’t let him demolish that house.

  “That’s the really exciting news,” her mama said with a beatific smile. “He’s planning to live here, in Maison Rouge. A real, live rock star. Can you imagine? Oh, I don’t much care for his music, all that screaming and growling. It sounds like he’s constipated, pauvre bette, but maybe if some female takes him under her wing, he’ll feel better.” The sly smile she sent her daughter went unrewarded because Daisy could only stare at her mother in horror. “Anyway, I’m sure he’ll fit in just fine. He seems like a nice young man and even offered to hold a fundraising concert here with his friends. Isn’t that wonderful? We could use a…”

  Daisy could no longer hear her mother over the roaring in her ears. Ram was staying in Maison Rouge for some reason and she knew it had nothing to do with her. Maybe he planned to start up a pride here. There were no lions in the area, and the closest pride lived in New Orleans. He wouldn’t have to fight for his choice of females. Her lungs screamed for oxygen and she sucked in a whistling breath.

  His mistake had been in buying the house she’d slated for herself, the house she’d dreamed of owning all her life and Monk had made it impossible for her to own. She and Monk had been friends once, before he’d destroyed her cousin’s reputation. Daisy had made it her mission in life to irritate the cougar shifter in retaliation, but it looked as though he’d found the perfect way to get back at her. She was going to kill both of them.

  *

  “Man, are you sure about this?” Craig asked as he and the other band members were about to climb into the tour bus. “You should come back to LA with us, send some people out here to get things ready for you and then come back when it’s livable.”

  Ram shook his head, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. “Nah, I’m ready now. It’ll be fine. I’ve been wanting to buy a home away from LA,” he answered truthfully. He couldn’t imagine going back to that empty house without going insane.

  “You’re not doing this because of some piece of tail, right?” Craig asked in a loud whisper. “And I don’t want to see you make a mistake you’ll regret. These people aren’t exactly…civilized.”

  If you only knew, Ram thought with a grin. “It’s fine, man. Don’t worry so much.” He clapped Craig on the back. “I’ll keep in touch. I’ll probably fly back to LA in March so we can start working on the new album.”

  “Yeah, you better. I write crappy lyrics,” Nick joked. He slapped Ram’s shoulder. “Gonna miss you, man.”

  “Same here,” Trick replied as he slapped Ram’s other shoulder. “I’ll send some honeys out your way. You’re gonna need it.”

  Leland snorted. “He’s just saying that ’cause the coyote sisters he wanted to hook up with last night had mates. He ended up pouting all night.” Trick muttered, but Leland ignored the panther to shake Ram’s hand. “See you soon, man.”

  Everyone but Clint climbed on the bus. “Are you really sure about this?” Clint asked, staring at Ram as if he didn’t know him. “We can always find you a place outside the city limits, a ranch maybe.”

  Ram laughed. “No, I like it here. I’ll be fine.” As soon as I corral that bear I’m mated to. “Be sure to arrange for that truck I bought to be delivered here on Monday, okay? I’ll keep in touch. And hey, if you guys want to come down for some hunting or fishing, let me know.”

  Clint climbed on the bus and sent a forlorn wave at Ram when the doors closed. Once the tour bus was out of sight, Ram turned back to the house he’d just bought. He didn’t trust Monk Badeaux, the same cougar shifter Clint had lost a bet to, but he did like the house, or what he’d seen of it.

  It wasn’t huge, not by his standards anyway, but it was perfect for what he needed right now. The high-steeped roof pitched down at a sharp angle to meet the supports for the porch, which wrapped around the entire house. It was pretty, but the selling point for him had been the promise of seclusion. A high, wrought iron fence ran the perimeter of the property, most of it hidden behind thick ivy and plants he couldn’t name. It was private, isolated and secure. A security system had been installed a couple of years before. No one would be sneaking onto the property while he was here.

  When he’d walked into Monk’s office bright and early this morning, he’d had only a few qualifications for whatever piece of property he bought—that it was immediately habitable, secure, furnished, and that he could get the utilities turned on today. He’d shown Ram pictures of Red House and that had been it. Ram had fallen in love with the damn place. Sensing an easy sale, Monk had called in favors to the parish government to get Ram’s electricity and water turned on.

  He pulled the keys from his pocket and opened the front door. Stale air, dust and the old scent of sex wafted to him. He wrinkled his nose, wondering how many teenagers had snuck into the house to have “fun” before Monk put in the security system. He hit the switch next to the door and was relieved when the lights came on.

  Then he lost his breath. The room he stepped into had rose-colored wallpaper, deep-red velvet sofas, and cherry wood tables scattered throughout. It looked like a brothel, even more so when his gaze alighted on a full-size portrait on the far side of the room.

  It was Daisy, but Daisy as he’d never seen her. Her dark hair fell over the cushion of a slope-ba
cked chair. She wore some kind of old-fashioned corset loosened at the top, baring her generous breasts, and a see-through pair of pants. She reclined with one arm flung over her head, the other resting over her stomach. Her dark eyes flashed with sultry invitation and her generous lips were full and shiny, as if she’d just been thoroughly kissed.

  Ram felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. His mind ran through numerous scenarios that would explain how a portrait of a half-dressed and obviously aroused Daisy had ended up in a house he’d just bought. The cougar had said the house had belonged to his family for a hundred years. It was possible the mangy swamp cat had lived here with Daisy and had this portrait painted of her. Jealousy threatened to overwhelm Ram as his lion roared.

  But the longer he stared at the portrait, the more he realized it wasn’t his mate. He drifted closer to the wall. Her nipples weren’t that shade of coral, but were lighter, pinker. Her breasts were also a little fuller. Unlike the woman in the portrait, Daisy didn’t have a beauty mark at the corner of her eye. His gaze drifted to the bottom of the painting to see the date 1728 in the corner.

  “The infamous Fleur Lebeau,” noted a calm voice from the doorway.

  Ram glanced over to see Monk Badeaux enter the house, his sandy-brown hair brushing the top of the door. The lazy green gaze swept through the room, lingering on the fine dust on the furniture. His nose pinched.

  “I’ll have a cleaning crew out here Monday morning to put the house to rights. I came over to make sure the house suited your needs.” He strode forward unaware that Ram’s lion bristled with the need to slash his throat. He stopped in front of the portrait, his mouth curling into a smile. “Fine-looking woman.”

  Ram growled, but Monk didn’t seem to notice. “She was a Baleine Bride back in the early 1700s. Legend has it she was some Frenchman’s mistress. When she refused to leave her protector for another nobleman he had her arrested for prostitution. She was sent here with nearly a hundred women to help populate the area, but Fleur wasn’t about to belong to any male again.” Monk’s voice reeked of admiration. “She left New Orleans with some other females who refused to marry and set up a brothel. They entertained governors, generals, farmers, anyone with coin to spare. The town of Maison Rouge sprouted around this house due to the generosity of the Lebeau women.

  “The house passed down from mother to daughter. Each one kept the brothel open until 1901 when Mimi Lebeau married a judge who was one of her regular customers. She sold the house to my great-grandfather, another one of her customers, and settled down to be a wife and mother.”

  “And you sold it to me.”

  Monk blinked as though coming out of a trance. He glanced at Ram with a hard smile. “My great-grandfather kept this house as a shrine to his beloved Mimi. He wrote a will deeding the house to his son, who gave it to my father, who gave it to me.” He shrugged. “I was fascinated by the house and by her all my life,” he said with a nod at Fleur’s portrait, “but I’m not holding on to it anymore.”

  Ram turned to face the cougar, scenting pain and bitterness beneath the other male’s calmness. “Why didn’t you sell it to Fleur’s descendants? I’m sure they’re still around.” In fact, he was positive they were still around and he’d marked one last night.

  “Monk Badeaux, get your skanky ass out here right now!” a female voice bellowed from outside.

  Ram’s whole body jolted with excitement and anticipation at his mate’s furious voice. Monk, however, didn’t look as happy, though the sly smile on his face raised the hair on the back of Ram’s neck.

  Chapter Four

  Daisy couldn’t catch her breath. Her fury had known no bounds, making her forget to take a car or act like a rational being. She’d run all the way from her rental to Red House, ignoring the shouts of her mama who warned her not to lose her temper. There was no way she could follow that dictate, not when every cell in her body ached to kill Monk Badeaux.

  She stood in the yard staring at the oldest home in Pointe-Aux-Chat, built by the sweat of Fleur Lebeau’s…well, not her brow but she’d worked hard to have this house built. It should have come to Claudette, and then Daisy, but because her idiotic great-grandmother had to fall in love, the Lebeaus lost their heritage. Yet another reason she questioned her dreams of falling in love.

  Daisy shook her head. Kitty didn’t want anything to do with Red House. Her mother and Aunt Francine, Mimi’s granddaughters, didn’t want anything to do with it, but Daisy wanted it, had planned for years how she could afford to buy it back. And now this.

  Monk appeared in the doorway, his sharp, green eyes glinting with satisfaction. She bared her teeth at him. She wanted to beat him to death with his own shoes. She knew why he’d done this and it had nothing to do with her, or money. No, it was about Kitty and Daisy’s retaliation against the man who’d fucked up her cousin’s life. She clenched her hands into fists and advanced on the smirking cougar. She was going to—

  A big body, broader and taller than Monk, shoved him out of the doorway. Daisy watched in horror as a pleased smile curled Ram’s lips. His amber eyes gleamed with anticipation and feral promise. She took a cautious step back. She was an idiot. She’d been so focused on kicking Monk’s ass she hadn’t scented Ram.

  He bounded down the steps of the porch, his faded jeans molded to his thick thighs and the bulge of his cock. Her pussy went soft and fluid at the sight of him. The faded black tee he wore strained across his shoulders, clinging to the muscles of his chest and stomach and all she wanted to do was drop to all fours and beg him to take her.

  “Daisy,” he purred as he hit the ground, crossing over to her a lot faster than she liked.

  She threw her hand up to ward him off, as if that would stop a lion when he had something he wanted in sight. “Stop!” she ordered in a gruff tone that wouldn’t fool anyone.

  Her damn body arched toward him even as her brain shouted to get the fuck away. It didn’t work. The minute his fingers wrapped around her wrist, she went limp, her brain shut down, and all she wanted was to have him inside her again. The mark on her chest and the other on her back throbbed with need, hungry for his fangs to sink into her again.

  She opened her mouth to mumble out another denial, but his lips landed on hers and sucked all thought right out of her head. She slumped in his arms, molding every inch of her body to his. This was not good, some part of her brain reminded her, but everything else in her cried out to get closer.

  Their breaths mingled as their tongues dueled in the hottest, wettest kiss of her life. She’d thought the kiss they shared the night before was sexy, but this one felt ten degrees hotter because this time she knew what he could do with his mouth, knew how he could bring her pleasure she’d never expected to find. So what if he was an arrogant, harem-forming asshole? He kissed like a god.

  “Well, well, well.”

  Daisy broke off the kiss to glare over Ram’s shoulder at Monk, who leaned against the porch post with a smug look on his face. Ram didn’t seem to notice because he trailed his mouth down the side of her face to her neck, his raspy tongue sending electric bolts of pleasure streaking to her womb.

  “If I had known you wanted the house that bad, we might have come to some kind of arrangement,” Monk continued with a feral smile.

  Ram froze, his body tensing around her. Daisy fought her way out of the lion’s possessive hold. Thank God, because she’d been on the verge of dropping trou’ and letting the lion mount her right in front of her archenemy. Oh, that would have been wonderful. The thought gave Daisy enough strength to step away from Ram. She glared at the cougar, letting her gaze linger on his crooked nose. “You remember what happened the last time you opened your mouth about someone in my family, right?”

  His smile became a tight-lipped scowl.

  “Just think what I’d do if you talked shit about me,” she cooed with a shark-like grin. Ram’s fingers stroked her arm and she jerked away from him. Oh, he wasn’t going to get her so easily again. “Keep your han
ds and lips to yourself, cat.” She turned back to Monk. “Why, dammit? Why did you sell to him and not to me? Do bastards flock together, or something?”

  “Hey,” Ram protested faintly.

  Daisy didn’t look at him, centering all her anger on the cat who’d made her and her cousin’s lives miserable for so long. “Is this revenge? Is that it, Monk?”

  Something burned in his eyes, but disappeared behind his infamous smirk. “You’ll never know, Daisy Lynn,” he murmured and stepped off the porch. He brushed past her, his nostrils quivering. “By the way, love the perfume you’re wearing. Eau de Lion?”

  Ram stopped Monk before he could leave. “Remember what you swore,” he said to the cougar.

  Monk glanced from Daisy to Ram and back again before he nodded with another smirk. “No press. Oh, and if you want your security system to actually work, you might want to arm it first, or you’ll have bitchy bears littering your lawn.”

  She stared after him, rage burning deep inside. Her bear stirred in confusion. It wasn’t sure what the big deal was. Their mate was here in the house they wanted. They could have everything in one fell swoop. But Daisy refused to even contemplate it. She’d loved Kyle and it’d torn her apart when he told her about his pride. She also hadn’t been half as attracted to him as she was to Ram. She’d rip out her own heart before she let him close to her. That road led to agony.

  “What the hell was that about?” he demanded in a rough voice that sent quivers through her.

  Damn. She swung around to face him, doing her best to ignore the flush of arousal on his cheeks and the scent of his need spicing the air around him. Instead, she concentrated on the fact that he now owned the house she’d yearned for all her life.

  “Why did you buy this house?”

  His nostrils flared, his pupils expanding and she knew he caught a whiff of her arousal. “I want to be close to my mate.”

  She almost fell on the fucking ground the outrage hit her so hard. “Your mate?” she screeched at him, claws tearing through the tips of her fingers. “We fucked, that was it. Unless you have another mate and if you do, you mother—”