by Elle Thorne
He’d whirled around, ready to face more polar bears and wondering how the hell they’d managed to flank him.
Except it wasn’t a polar bear. It was a white tiger shifter, dark haired, dark eyed, a mischievous smile on his face.
Theo took an instinctive and instant liking to the man. Something about his tiger connected with Theo’s lion.
“John Romanoff. Still the bully, aren’ you.” The white tiger shifter addressed the polar bear with a drawl that seemed to have a French accent laced throughout, dropping the last consonant, as Theo learned was Lézare’s way.
The drawl was lazy, but the man’s eyes were predatory.
This white tiger was no one to fuck with.
It didn’t hurt that more than a handful of the largest shifters Theo had ever seen stepped forward, out of the darkness, some leaping from fire escapes, landing with feline precision.
The white tiger shifter was accompanied by a variety of animal shifters. Bear. Panther. Wolf. Each of the newly arrived shifters stood behind the white tiger, ready to do battle.
“Lézare Arceneaux,” the polar bear shifter called John Romanoff said with a frown. “You’re trespassing.”
Theo glanced between the two shifters.
The one he’d called Lézare, with the French-tipped southern drawl released a laugh, dug a phone out of his pocket and pressed on the screen. He paused, then said, “Mikhail. John’s up to his pranks again.” He gave the polar bear shifter a glance as if he were talking about a petulant toddler. “I’d hate to have to kick his ass and send him home with his polar bear tail tucked between his legs. Want to talk to your son or…” Lézare arched a brow at John Romanoff. He held his phone up. “Want to talk to your father?”
John Romanoff grunted, then released a low growl from deep within his gut. Without a word, he turned around, a full one-eighty, then sauntered away nonchalantly.
Except the straightness to his spine displayed his agitation.
The white tiger shifter put his phone away and held his hand out to Theo. “Lézare Arceneaux. Though I guess you figured that out.”
“Theo Ricoletti.” Theo shook Lézare’s hand. “Thank you. They had me.”
“Maybe. But you’d have taken a few of them down with you. We couldn’t let you be taken out though. We watched you handle yourself. Impressive. Where’s that accent from?”
Theo released a sigh. He figured the day would come when someone would ask him about his past. Shifters stayed in packs, or found new packs. Being solo like this would raise questions. “Greece. Then Italy.”
Lézare nodded. “Interested in a job?”
Theo fought to keep his composure. Just like that? “Seriously?” Then suspicion set in. “Doing what?”
“Security. We’re in Louisiana. New Orleans.” He pronounced it more like N’Awlins, but Theo didn’t take long to get accustomed to Lézare’s accent.
He didn’t take long to get accustomed to anything about Lézare. They’d become tight friends.
Fast forward, and now here he was, security for the Arceneaux clan because he could handle himself in a scuffle.
And that was all thanks to his father, Marco Ricoletti, who’d seen to his education, and part of that included the art of defense and offense.
Today, standing against the wall in Quake, Theo felt Lézare’s presence before he saw him. He felt his heartbeat as he approached, recognized his footfall, and waited for Lézare to get close enough.
Lézare stood next to him, then leaned against the wall. “Not coming back to the gathering?” He indicated the room with the other shifters in it.
“Just taking a second.” How could he possibly explain to his best friend and boss that he’d seen a woman and she’d started a chain reaction in him that he needed a few moments to recover from.
Plus, I wouldn’t mind catching another look at her. Maybe even a quick hello.
She’d been in the witch section. That should bother him. Theo knew it should. Hell, it should have been a deterrent.
Shifters and witches.
Oil and water.
But still—he released a sigh—that damned chemistry.
“You sure you’re okay?” Lézare pushed.
“Fine.” Theo had just glanced at Lézare when movement caught his attention. He glanced toward the movement.
Her!
His pulse jumped. His heart rammed into his throat at the same time. He couldn’t swallow because his damned heart was there blocking his esophagus. Or maybe that was a brick.
Who the hell knew?
He felt eyes on him, glanced at Lézare.
Sure enough, Lézare had locked his gaze on Theo, studying him.
And just like that, Theo knew that Lézare had read him.
Read his reaction.
Read his pulse.
Sensed and maybe even scented his emotions.
Lézare’s eyes narrowed, his gaze glued to the woman. “No, Theo.”
“No what?” Theo couldn’t tear his scrutiny from the curvy figure that was turning the corner into the ladies’ restroom.
“Not her, Theo. Never her. She’s…” Lézare shook his head. “Just no. Stay away from the swamp witch.” Lézare turned his attention to the room the rest of their party was in. “Coming?”
“In a second.”
Lézare shook his head. “Brother, be careful. Keep your distance. Some things shouldn’t happen.”
Is it because she’s a witch?
Theo had questions. Many of them. But he knew Lézare as well as he knew himself. Lézare wasn’t interested in covering this matter with him. He was done.
And with that, Lézare left the hallway and reentered the room.
A magnet the size of Texas drew him closer as if he were a hapless piece of steel. He made his way toward the restrooms in the red hall. He should have headed toward the blue shifter restrooms. Sure, he knew that. Just as he knew he shouldn’t want this woman the way he did.
How do you even begin to describe the chemical reaction of this attraction?
He stopped in front of the red men’s restroom, hoping no warlocks would exit.
That’s all I need. To be caught here.
The ladies’ restroom door opened.
Out she slipped. Elegant and with the ease of a panther sliding through the rainforest.
Witch—everything about her screamed witch.
It should have screamed a warning to Theo.
It wouldn’t have mattered.
Her eyes drew to him. She studied him briefly, a dilation behind her eerie, light eyes. It was like looking into moonlight.
He was transfixed.
She inhaled a breath, softly.
A sound his shifter hearing had no problem picking up. The sound amplified through his body. Her pulse raised, beginning a tempo that grew ever faster.
“Shifter.” The word glided across her lips, the decibel level so low, no human, and even some supernatural beings wouldn’t have picked it up—unless they were standing next to her, like Theo was.
Theo nodded. “Who are you? I have to know.”
Just then, he caught the sight of motion in his peripheral vision.
He turned.
Another woman appeared. She resembled this ethereal being that Lézare had called a swamp witch.
The newcomer appraised Theo. He returned in kind. She was a mystery. He sensed a witch, but saw a shifter in her eyes. Without her making any attempt to mask the shifter within her, he could see it was a white tiger shifter.
And yet the familial resemblance to the swamp witch was undeniable.
The newcomer put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “Leandra. Let us go.”
Leandra.
His lion roared in Theo’s mind, drowning out more than his heartbeat and any thoughts he had.
Chapter Seven
New Orleans, Louisiana
Leandra stared at the swarthy, dark haired man before her. What was a shifter doing in the red section? His gaze wa
s intense, drawing her in, pulling on her like a whirlpool seduces a piece of driftwood, sucking it in, taking it down, claiming every part of it.
She was lost in his black gaze, dragged further and further into the vortex he was creating within her.
Time slipped away as if it were everything—and nothing. She didn’t notice Lucia approach until she felt her hand on her shoulder. “Leandra. Let us go.”
A roar filled Leandra’s head. She put her hand over her ears, trying to push it away, trying to block it out. All to no avail. That sound was not coming from outside her mind.
Leandra didn’t want to go.
Lucia’s lips were moving, saying something, but the roar drowned it out. The man’s eyes pierced her, straight through to her core. Looking into those dark windows to his soul, with the golden glimmer of his lion rampaging within, she felt as if she were looking into a mirror.
Not the mirrors that she’d always hated.
No, in this mirror she saw truth, integrity, beauty, and the blossoming self-assurance that this creature before her, wanted her.
The gorgeous hunk of man with his muscular build straining at the fabric of his shirt was overwhelmed by her.
Lucia’s hand trailed down to Leandra’s fingers, she took them in a tight grasp and pulled her away, back to the table.
And still, with every step she took, she felt the lion shifter’s scrutiny on her.
Lucia and Leandra sat at their table. During their absence, two glasses of iced tea had been brought to their table, served in frosted glass, dripping with condensation onto the dark table top.
Lucia took a quick sip, then jumped into a conversation. “What was that about? Do you know him? He’s with the Arceneaux.”
Leandra battled the urge to return to the doorway and look for the shifter. “I’ve never seen him before.”
Lucia made a tiny tsk of doubt. “You didn’t seem like strangers.”
“You haven’t answered any of my questions.” Leandra raised a brow. Maybe this could convince Lucia to be more forthcoming with information.
Her aunt frowned. “What do you want to know?”
Really? Leandra fought the sarcasm back. “Quake, for starters.”
“He’s part of my past.” The words were clipped, propelled through tightened lips and a clenched jaw.
So that’s how it’s going to be. Fine then.
“Alright. Where do you live?”
“Most of the time in Europe.”
“Why?”
Lucia heaved a sigh, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it when a woman that could have been Bethany’s twin appeared with two plates of etouffee.
“Enjoy,” the black clad server said, without a smile.
Lucia nodded, then as soon as the woman had left, “I didn’t grow up here. My father is—was—an Arceneaux. A shifter. He came to claim me, taking me to Europe to be raised by one of his relatives.”
“And that’s where you are now?”
“You’re persistent. You get that from your Mémé.”
“Did you miss her? Growing up away from her?” Leandra couldn’t imagine a life without Mémé.
“Did you miss your mother?”
Leandra frowned. “Do you ever answer questions?” she huffed.
Lucia laughed, a sound that carried softly all about the room. It was like hearing a tiny bell.
“I did answer questions.”
“Some. And no. How could I miss her? Rochelle didn’t want me in her life to begin with. She wanted a… I am an embarrassment to her.”
“Rochelle has issues.”
“I’ll say,” Leandra scoffed.
“No, it’s more than you think. Food’s getting cold.” Lucia stirred her etouffee.
There was no more conversation that day.
Lucia took Leandra back to the cabin and drove away, down that pebbled road that flooded when the rains were strong enough.
Leandra watched her drive off, then entered the solitude of the cabin, leaving the shawl over the mirror.
The Courtship
A Handful of Years Ago
Chapter Eight
Outside the boundaries of Black Glade Bayou, Louisiana
Theo stretched his muscular lion limbs. He sniffed at the bayou air, hoping to catch her scent.
Her.
Leandra.
The woman who’d been at Quake.
Nothing.
Last week, on one of his weekly runs—a man had to let his lion have its head every so often, he’d caught her scent on the downward breeze.
It was faint, but his lion knew. The lion had roared, shaking the trees in the swampy water, making the water ripple.
Birds had flown, bayou creatures had scurried. He’d thrown his head back and sniffed harder, taking in so much air his lion chest felt like it was going to burst.
It didn’t burst, but his heart was forlorn, because of her.
She’d been in the bayou. Somewhere. Sometime.
Not long ago, and not too far away, else he’d never have been able to catch her delicious scent.
He’d been wanting to find her, hadn’t had a chance to look. Working for Lézare kept him on the road, out of town, and at times out of the country, while his boss added to his empire. They’d finally settled back in New Orleans on a more permanent basis.
After settling in, the first thing on Theo’s mind and his lion’s heart had been relocating the woman whose scent had seared itself into his memory.
He began a lope, keeping a brisk pace and only stopping to sniff the air and see if her scent was stronger and if he might be closer to finding her.
A new scent infiltrated his senses.
Shifter.
White tiger shifter.
Correction: White tigress! A female shifter was in the bayou’s brush.
Theo’s picked up that scent immediately. Thankful that his sense of smell was even better than most shifters.
He froze in his tracks, his senses on high alert. Something made the fur on his back stand straight up. The thick muscles on his lion’s back and chest tightened and flexed with anticipation that there might be conflict. He knew he was still in Lézare’s territory.
Or am I?
Had he pushed himself further out of Lézare’s territory? The area outside the Arceneaux claim was typically populated by non-shifters types. Witches and vampires.
Theo had urged Lézare, at times, to let him push the other types back, to stretch Arceneaux boundaries further and claim more area, but Lézare staunchly refused. Said it wasn’t what his ancestor Étienne had wanted.
Theo didn’t pry. He could tell from the set of Lézare’s jawline that he’d crossed into a topic his boss didn’t want to discuss.
Theo sidestepped in his lion form, standing in the shadows of an old cypress tree.
“You think I don’t know you’re here, lion?” A very definitely female voice came from the brush.
Theo shifted quickly, with the twinge of discomfort he’d worked hard to tune out. Morphing wasn’t painless, but with enough training and willpower, he’d turned it into more of an acute but short-lived pain than a long drawn out excruciating process.
“I could say the same,” Theo countered.
“I’m aware you’re cognizant of my presence.” A woman stepped from the brush.
He knew that face. The woman who’d been with Leandra at Quake that day.
“I know you.”
“And I know you, Theo Ricoletti, security for the Arceneaux Group.”
“Your name?”
“Lucia.” A tiny smile graced her lips, pulling the corners upward.
It struck Theo again that she bore a great resemblance to Leandra. “Your last name?”
“Last names don’t mean that much to me.”
He nodded. He got that. He’d used his mother’s last name. It was his promise to her on her deathbed that he would use Marco’s surname. And he had. Reluctantly so.
“You’re related to Leandra.” St
ating the obvious, hoping for an answer. Maybe even Leandra’s last name. that’d be a great start.
Not that he’d do anything with that knowledge. It’s not like he could go out and ask questions about the dark-skinned, exotic beauty. Lézare would find out and that wouldn’t do.
He felt guilty enough about his feelings after Lézare’s warning.
“I am.” Lucia plucked a long blade of straw-like grass and rolled it between her fingers. “She’s my sister’s daughter.”
He caught the note when she said sister—definitely a sour note.
“Leandra’s a witch.” Stating the obvious again. “You’re’ a shifter…”
She nodded. “It’s convoluted.”
“I’ll say, considering how witches and shifters feel about one other.”
“There are exceptions.” She had a wicked gleam in her eye, but thankfully not an evil one.
“I’m sure.” He narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out where she was going with this.
“You are the exception. Leandra is as well. The attraction between you two isn’t possible to hide. It wasn’t that day, and it’s obvious why you’re haunting the bayou, seeking, searching, making your way through the marshes, silently, but ever hopeful.”
A chill crossed over his body. He had no idea that what he felt was so obvious. A thought occurred to him. Lucia said the attraction wasn’t possible to hide. Was it still two-sided? Did Leandra dream of him nightly as he did of her? She preoccupied his dreams consistently. “What makes you think you know what you’re talking about?”
Lucia shook her head. “Sometimes shifters are so blockheaded.” She laughed, as if it was occurring to her that she was a shifter herself. “What you and Leandra have—it is inevitable. It could no sooner be denied or avoided than the sunrise’s glorious path across an azure morning sky.” She flicked the blade of straw and as if it were a miniature spear, it sailed through the air and pierced through the marshy undergrowth. “You’ll go to Quake tomorrow. You’ll sit near the same area you saw us that day.”
He cocked his head. Who was she to give him orders? Then again, it occurred to him… he had to do it. Something in him, in his lion too, something wouldn’t let him stay away.
