by Nancy Gideon
Charlotte, don’t leave me.
What good were all his abilities if he couldn’t do this one thing? If he couldn’t hold on to the one thing that meant the most to him? What good to be king, if he had to rule alone?
He took a breath and let his consciousness fly once more, until it fixed on an unmistakable scent. Voodoo Love. He surrounded that essence of her, distilling all his power, all his energy, all his love.
Come back to me! Hold on to me, sha. Hold tight.
He pulled, and for an instant she was there with him. He could smell her, feel her touch on his face, taste her smile on his lips.
I love you, Max.
But even as he clutched frantically, she was fading.
No! Don’t go! You promised you wouldn’t leave me! You promised you wouldn’t fail me!
He opened his eyes. Her still image blurred through his tears. Angrily, he shook them off. He could do this! They could do it together. He wasn’t wrong about that. He’d never been wrong about the strength that bound them, even before he marked her.
I will not let you go!
What would it take to bring back the spark, the fiery spirit of the woman he loved?
He smiled to himself and leaned close to provoke her, rubbing his cheek against her cool one so he would fill up her senses with every faint inhalation.
“I know you can hear me, detective. So hear this. I won’t have any trouble replacing you. The very tasty Amber has let me know she’s ready to step in. Into your place, into my bed. She’ll keep me warm at night and won’t cause me near the aggravation you have. And she’s strong enough to take it. The others were right about that—I was foolish to expect so much from you. So go ahead. Leave me. I won’t be lonely for long.
“Too bad I can’t say the same for your lover, Detective Babineau. He’ll be weeping and wailing for that precious relationship that was too sacred for you to share with me.”
He felt a smack against the back of his head.
“I said it was nothing, Savoie. Quit bitching about it.”
The sound of her aggrieved voice put a shaky grin on his face. He lifted his head, his breath suspended, waiting for her eyes to open, for her to scowl at him.
“You bastard—the minute I look the other way, you’re sniffing around that brainless pair of boobs.”
“I’m sorry, detective. I didn’t mean to provoke you on your deathbed.”
“Yes, you did,” she grumbled. Then her palms rubbed the sheets, and she looked confused. “Isn’t this our bed? Who’s dying?”
“Apparently no one. Not today.”
Her tone mellowed as her fingers caressed over the tops of his, a sensation so sweetly sensual, emotion backed up in his chest until it ached like a heart attack about to explode. “I’m not going anywhere for another sixty or seventy years, so you’re going to have to put your other plans on hold.”
“With pleasure.”
“Besides, I already told you how I want to go. Having sex in the shower with you.”
“I’ll try to keep that promise.” He touched her cheek, had his hand shaking with a fierce tremor. “How are you feeling?”
“I was having such a strange dream.”
He smiled. “Was I in it?”
“You were calling me. You were in my apartment, wondering who was going to take care of you. That’s silly. I am, baby.” Her eyes drifted shut, then snapped open again. “You’ll be here when I wake up, won’t you?”
“Always, sha.”
“Good.”
His hand soothed down her leg, then—
“Ow! Why’d you pinch me?”
“For scaring me. Go to sleep.”
She frowned, then stopped fighting the pull at her droopy eyelids. “Don’t go away.” Her voice sighed like the ripple of satin sheets. “I love you, Max.” And she drifted into a healthy slumber.
“Good.”
All his compressed feelings finally gave way, crumpling his features. Pressing his cheek into her palm, he shook with silent sobs and laughter. He hung on to her hand, unable to let go, because he was holding his dreams, his future, his world.
He didn’t have to pick out any clothes for her tomorrow. And he’d better come up with a spectacular new car, or there’d be hell to pay.
“Am I too late?” Devlin Dovion asked. Seeing Max Savoie with all defenses down could mean only one thing. His broken heart was in his eyes, when he was startled by Savoie’s smile.
“She’s asleep. Take a breath. They don’t allow throwing up in here.”
“She’s been awake?” His look was stupefied.
“And talking. Scolding me, actually.”
Dev stepped over to check her vitals, taking her pulse just to absorb the warmth of her skin and listen to the easy in and out of her breathing for reassurance. Clinical disbelief quickly undercut his delight. “How could that happen? How do you explain that, Max? How am I going to explain it when the hospital and her superiors ask me?”
Max protectively tucked the covers in around the sleeping figure. “You can think of something they’d believe. Something a little less…shocking than the truth.”
“What is the truth?”
“I don’t really know myself.”
Dovion wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “But you can guess. It has to do with you and what you are, doesn’t it? With the bullets that put holes in your jacket but don’t seem to be bothering you at all. What did you pass along to her when you bit her?”
Max ignored the speculation to insist, “You can quiet the questions. You can fix the hospital reports, lose the tests.” His stare held Dovion’s. “Because if you don’t, and word gets out that my girlfriend came back from the dead no worse for wear, a whole lot of trouble is going to be coming this way. You have no idea how dangerous the truth can be.”
Dovion studied him for a long minute, weighing his words. “I could handle the paperwork and silence the rumors.” He left that comment hanging for a minute until Max nudged at it warily.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to talk to me, Max. To satisfy my curiosity. It won’t go any further, but I want to know. I have to know. Is Charlotte’s safety worth that to you?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. Then he was all cool and in control again. “I need to speak to Charlotte’s doctor.”
MAX STOOD AT her bedside as the stunned physician did a hurried and incredulous examination. He was confused, then amazed, then intrigued, just as Dovion had been. “This isn’t possible. I need to run some new tests.”
“Because the first ones were faulty,” Max suggested. “They exaggerated the seriousness of her condition.”
“No. Not to this degree,” the doctor said to himself before glancing up at the man he remembered from the previous day. The one who’d been covered in blood. “Who are you?”
“My name is Max Savoie. And I’m about to become a very influential patron of this hospital. And of your career.”
“WELCOME HOME, sha.”
Max carried her into the room they shared, and deposited her gently on the big bed. While she smiled and got all misty-eyed at the arrangement of fresh flowers on the night table, Max went to the French doors and threw back the curtains.
Sunlight flooded the room and she soaked up the sight of him, so dark, so fierce, and so damned desirable. She was considering how to lure him under the covers when she glanced around, and then just stared.
In the big room where he’d lived most of his life with blank white walls and bare wood floors, startling splashes of color had bloomed. An abstract art print from her living room warmed the space above his dresser, which now held her scented candles and her favorite pictures of her father and Mary Kate. Several of her woven pillows brightened his functional chair, and a rag rug she’d purchased at a fundraiser at St. Bart’s was on the floor. A half dozen pairs of sexy shoes she didn’t recognize but which looked like her size toed off with his workboots, shiny leathers, and worn red Converses in the p
artially opened closet.
“What is all this?” she asked, fighting back the emotion building in her throat.
Max slid the closet door shut. “I picked up a few things I thought might make you feel at home. Ahh—sounds like you have company.”
Oscar bounded into the room, carrying a vaguely distressed Baco. Alain Babineau followed.
“Hey, detective. Max told me I could bring them over here to stay ’cause they were lonely at your apartment. Their cage is down in the parlor.”
“Did he? How thoughtful of Max.” She shot a glance his way, which he met without a blink.
“How are you feeling, Ceece?” Babineau asked.
Max had faded back to stand by the balcony doors, distancing himself both in space and expression.
Confused, she looked to her partner. “I’m good.”
Babineau exchanged a quick look with Max, then said carefully, “I spoke to the doctor yesterday. He said everything was on the mend and that you might be back on a desk in the next few weeks.”
“Just a lot of bruising and some swelling, but no fractures. I should be as good as new in no time.”
Babineau fidgeted uncomfortably for a minute, then said, “Oscar, let’s get going. We don’t want to overstay our welcome. Oh, another thing.” His jaw clenched for a moment. “Tina wanted me to ask you both over for dinner, when you feel up to it. She wants to thank you for what you did for the boy.”
Max stared at him for a moment, then his grin spread sudden and wide to acknowledge the other’s discomfort. “Why, that’s right nice of you, inviting us into your home for a family meal.”
Oscar went over to give Max a quick hug, ignoring the pig’s alarmed wheeks. “Can I come over for a visit sometime, Max?”
“Anytime you want, Oz. Anytime.” As he straightened, he met Babineau’s challenging stare with one of his own.
Babineau looked away first. “We know our way out.” He smiled at his partner. “The guys say hey.”
“Hey back.”
And then it was just her and Max.
She patted the mattress. “Come here.”
She didn’t have to ask for his kiss. He supplied it generously, to the limit of their breath. As his fingers sifted through her hair, he spoke softly against her lips.
“You saved my life. Thank you.”
“And you saved mine when you shared more than just your mark with me. I would have died, Max. I would have died.”
They needed to talk about it, about what was going on between them, inside her. About the differences their bonding was creating in their relationship. New to them both. It was something they would have to learn about together, their circumstances so unique that there were no guidelines, no examples to follow. Just the limits of their love and the boundaries of their trust. They could approach these new sensations with a denying caution. Or they could explore them boldly and without fear.
Belonging to him was such a huge, huge step—implying a commitment and a connection of faith that scared her spitless.
But to have him. To have him . . .
“I seem to recall a lot of big-dog noise about me being yours, and the two of us belonging together. Have you changed your mind?”
His gaze smoldered. “No, detective. I have not.”
He disappeared into the bathroom.
“Max? Where are you going?”
“A surprise for you. Just a minute,” he called.
She heard water running, and her body began to simmer in anticipation as she pictured him wet and naked. He returned to scoop her up in his arms, and she smiled in delight as he carried her into the bathroom. “What’s this?”
The wall between their private bath and the large one that had opened to the hall was gone, creating a huge space filled with light and scent and welcome. The half partition now separating the two rooms held a jungle of vining green plants that thrived on the humidity.
Max carried her around it to a huge, claw-footed tub filled with steamy, scented water. Beyond it, a wall of glass rose all the way to the ceiling and slanted up to form an unbroken view of trees and sky. Imagining the hedonistic pleasure of soaking beneath the stars, she gave a soft, overwhelmed laugh as he set her down carefully on the thick teal rug. Her toes curled in appreciation.
“I’ve been picturing you in it, all wet and slippery and pruny,” he explained as he stripped her.
When he deposited her into the frothy water she moaned, sinking into bubbles up to her neck, her eyes closing in ecstasy. “Oh, Max, this is wonderful.”
“And roomy.”
He stepped over the rolled edge and slid in, all sleek, bare skin, behind her. She snuggled back between his knees, lounging on his hard chest as his arms curled about her waist. After a perfect moment, she repositioned his hands, one higher, one lower.
“I’ve been missing you, Savoie,” she purred. She felt so strong, so confident and powerful, she wanted to roll over and devour him whole, starting with the delicious temptation of his mouth. Lust and love wound through her, provoked into a sultry impatience by just the scent of him.
Her man. Her mate. Her everything.
In the back of her thoughts, a fragile whisper teased. If their bonding had given her the ability to heal her wounds, could it also heal her scars? Would she be able to repair the damaging past and make all his dreams come true?
She didn’t dare consider it. Not yet.
This time was just for them, and they had some long overdue business to attend to. Business that pressed full and hard along her back.
“Make me howl at the moon, Max.”
She felt his smile against her throat. “The moon doesn’t rise for another six hours, sha.”
“Which leaves plenty of time for foreplay,” she teased.
Her breath caught as his touch went from sensuously soothing to all-business, and his voice was a husky growl in her ear.
“Then we’re going to need a lot more hot water.”
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
