by Nancy Gideon
“And it was a very impressive display, too. Very manly. Very hot.” Her hand stroked his arm just as her words did his ego. “Feel free to jump in to rescue me whenever you think it’s warranted.”
He regarded her for a long moment through reflective eyes. “You’ve changed.”
His remarked startled her. “How so?”
“From princess to queen.”
“Is it a change you like?”
“No.”
She drew back, suddenly uncertain, until his fingertips grazed her cheek.
“It’s a change I love.” Pride exuding from his gaze, through his slight smile, in his rumbling tone, he added, “I’m so lucky to have you beside me.”
“Yes, you are. Don’t forget that.”
His grin flashed and his arms cinched her up tight against him, encouraging her to lean into its circle where the sense of belonging was immediate and strong. For a moment, the world and all its problems fell away.
But the moment didn’t last nearly long enough against the worries of the day.
“Are you ready to go up?”
Her face lifted. Expression shining with love, with desire, with happiness, Kendra felt no great hurry to move, secure in what the night held in store for them. “Can we stay awhile? The music’s really good.”
“Sure, baby. Whatever you want.”
He gestured for the bartender. While he ordered a shot of Patron, Kendra sucked at the foreign flavor on her lower lip, a residue from their kiss. Her brow puckered.
Who’d been trespassing on her mate’s mouth? More curious than suspicious, her nose crinkled, giving him a subtle sniff down. The fragrance clinging to him was almost, but not quite feminine. A . . . man?
“My king,” she broached casually. “Why are you dressed like a high-priced male escort?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cale regarded his delicate yet all too astute mate in a moment of shock then laughed out loud.
“Thank you for adding that high-priced to repair my self-esteem. It’s part of the role Silas has me playing,” he assured her. Let Silas take the heat for his regrettable choice of wardrobe.
“Are you pretending to be a male stripper?” The slight tang in her tone made him grin.
“Would you like me to?” he asked, rather intrigued by the idea. “There is a pole in our room.” When she couldn’t be shaken from her need to know, he changed his approach. “I’m Mick Terry, dockworker by day, tattooed vigilante defender of the Quarter by night, and a fighter in the ring trying to keep your cousin’s player ass covered. That’s all. Ask him.”
“That’s enough!” Mollified, she murmured, “I don’t need to ask him. I believe you. But that doesn’t mean I’m not concerned. I don’t like lies.” She snuggled into his shoulder, and his conscience went straight to hell. Because of what he wasn’t telling her.
Holding her within the loose circle of his arms, drawing in the calming feel and scent of her as they listened to the musicians, Cale considered the concessions Casper Lee spoke of. Conditions he’d have to meet without resistance to gain entry to the exclusive fights.
He’d have to kill.
He’d taken the lives of countless others in battle to avenge wrongs against his family, to protect himself and those who depended upon him for protection. The latter demanded he slay his own brother, Michael, and the agony of that still scored his soul.
But to end another’s life for the sake of entertainment? Everything he’d become rebelled against it. He enjoyed a brawl, a violent test of skill, strength and stamina, but to claim a victory with his opponent’s death? That wasn’t sport.
Then, there was the willingness to breed.
Apparently, Brady’s combative circus had another purpose, a sort of Darwinist survival of the most qualified. And apparently, those powerful genetics had worth. While he’d once held no aversion to banging any willing female within his clan, that didn’t extend to those outside it. Terriots kept their line pure. He’d never agreed with his father’s plan to conquer their enemies by breeding with their females. Besides, he had a pretty strong suspicion that Kendra wouldn’t be on board with him sharing his superior genes, regardless of how it might help her cousin’s plan. She preferred to be the only one with access to his jeans. He had no problem with that.
But the last condition was a deal breaker. A willingness to enhance his strength by using Kick. There had to be a way around it. He’d promised Kendra he’d never again become what he’d been under the influence of the drug he’d unknowingly taken.
He still bore the faint scar from Silas’s unexpected and vicious attack when they were teens, when his silver blade scored from brow to cheekbone nearly blinding him in one eye. Nearly ending his chance of survival within his fiercely competitive clan. The supposedly harmless herbs he’d been supplied gave him strength and briefly restored his vision. And almost cost him his soul.
He knew first-hand how destructive and dangerously addictive the chemical enhancer could be. Which was why he’d been willing to work with Silas to end the threat of his brother James peddling it here in New Orleans. He’d tried to tell himself that they could succeed without him ever having to test his resolve, without breaking his vows to his queen, his love, who trusted him unconditionally. Lee’s edicts could make that impossible.
There was the more immediate problem Kendra had already nosed out. How long would he be able to keep the amorous Casper Lee at arm’s length with his coy refusals?
The sickly sweet traces of cologne still lingered, mocking his good intentions. Cale teetered on the precipice of an irreversible fall. And once he stepped, or was pushed, off that edge, he’d forfeit everything that gave his life meaning.
Everything.
When Kendra twisted to look up at him, he quickly erased all sign of his worries with a smile. Losing himself in her gaze was like being lifted to heaven. Thoughts of darkness and despair thinned and faded away until all he knew was the strength of her love.
Something of that must have shown in his face because her tender lips trembled as she whispered, “Let’s go upstairs and start making those babies.”
*
Necking all the way up in the elevator was a good start. As the doors opened on their floor, Kendra reluctantly stepped away from the irresistible temptation he always became. She practically dragged him to their suite in her hurry.
And there all romantic notions ended.
Suggestive rap lyrics pounded from the sound system. Toned bodies in various stages of undress were entangled between a scattering of empties. Colin, in his briefs, socks, and a tie had a gorgeous dark-haired beauty in a bikini top and micro mini straddling his lap on one of the sleek black chairs. Opposite, a shirtless Rico had one lovely trying to suck his lips off while two more wrestled with his boots. Kip had a bikini top wrapped around his neck in place of his tie while a female wearing his suit jacket and possibly nothing else enticed him with her bump and grind. Two other girls still in wet bathing suits were making out on the tiled edge of the stage.
“Oh, excuse us,” Cale called out. “We must have stumbled onto a porn set by mistake.”
Only Kip had the decency to look embarrassed.
“Hey! Here’s our host,” Colin cheered, dodging the insistent mouth of the female on his lap. He raised his bottle of Jack and toasted, “Mick Terry, pull up a girl and join us.”
“I already have one, thank you.” He glanced at Kendra, sporting a devilish grin until she couldn’t help but return his smile. He was used to raucous partying Terriot style but concern for Kendra’s modest upbringing forced him to add, “We can’t stay.” There were other things on his mind not suitable for the entertainment of others. The only one getting an eyeful of his mate’s luscious form was going to be him.
Kendra surprised the hell out of him by asking, “Why not?”
He leaned in close to croon, “I thought we had plans.”
“Yes, we do, my king. But we also have all night. Why not spend some of
it with your family?”
His brows rose nearly to his hairline. “You don’t object to all these naughty goings on and fawning, readily available females?” he teased, sure she’d relent. But she more than met his challenge.
“Not if you don’t object to me ogling your half naked brothers.”
He reared back, weighing that threat through slitted eyes until she turned his face back toward her. Her tongue thrusting kiss convinced him he had no reason to worry.
“Can’t we take a night off and just have fun?” she whispered against his lips. “What did Rico say? No fighting, just drinking, dancing and . . . other things?”
Fear over his siblings spilling the truth of his identity along with their beverages of choice eased. It’d been . . . forever it seemed since they’d been together just to enjoy each other’s company. Since the celebration at the lake when he’d renounced his roving ways by taking a mate.
Why couldn’t they enjoy this moment? While he still had the chance.
“You call that music?” He steered his queen to the sound system with a hand on her rear and cued up the playlist that he’d downloaded. He nodded in time to the pulsing throb of “The Stroke” and declared, “That’s music.”
He deftly caught the beer Rico tossed him and took it down to the bottom. His tension drained away at last until there was just the sensual thrall of the beat and his mate’s tempting body heat. Torn between the two, he tugged her in close to move her against him in time to the music.
Kendra didn’t know what was wrong, but at least for now, whatever troubled him in the bar had been pushed aside in favor of a little rollicking fun with his brothers. As long as he looked at her as if he was about to spontaneously combust with the need to get her naked, she was okay with the delay.
“C’mon, old man,” Kip hooted. “Show us some moves if you can still manage them without straining something.”
The glitter ball over the stage started to turn, sending darts of light spearing throughout the room. With an easy move, Cale lifted her up onto the stage and joined her, continuing their dance as he opened his jacket to rub her palms over his chest and abs in one hell of an erotic message until his skin gleamed and breathing labored. Because the song was going to last a lot longer than their restraint, she slipped her hands out from under his to link them behind the back of his neck.
A couple of suggestive hip bumps shot his exhibitionist nature into overdrive. Since they’d reached the limit of what they could do together surrounded by mixed company, he spun her out and moved solo to take a dizzying twirl on the pole. With his brothers and their companions whistling and catcalling to encourage him, he humped against it then turned to let it slide down his back as he sank into a low undulating crouch.
Watching, Kendra caught fire.
When the song changed to The Heavy’s pounding “What Makes a Good Man” Rico shouted, “You call that dancing?” and tossed Cale into Kendra’s arms to begin a sweat popping dance workout that made the most of his ripped upper body and tight jeans. Bikini tops flung by the girls on the edge of the stage finally distracted him enough for Colin to take his place and coax Kip to join him for a sassy hop singing, “I’ve got 99 problems and a bitch ain’t one,” until booed down by the female majority.
The blues rocker “Tuff Enough” lured Colin’s sultry beauty up to address the pole like a pro, wagging her barely covered rear and taking twirls with long legs scissoring and wrapping about the rod with impressive agility. Who needed Bourbon Street? Colin’s gaze followed her movements as if mesmerized, and had Kendra thinking he might have one more problem on his hands than he realized. Especially the way she stepped off the stage into his arms and onto his lips.
Watching them, Kendra was reminded of what she and her man could be doing. A subtle squeeze of his backside aligned his thinking with hers.
“Encore, then its goodnight for me,” Cale announced as the first guitar licks of “Hard as a Rock” had him gesturing for his brothers to join him under the swirling lights. He set the rhythm, stepping it off and adding fist pops and thrusting hips until the others picked up the routine, each one adding variations, playing to his own targeted audience with strong, sexy moves.
Following the teasing revolutions of her mate’s sassy hips with lustful appreciation, a bit tipsy and a lot horny, Kendra couldn’t remember ever being so close to exploding turned on.
On the other side of their closed bedroom door, the only sounds for a long minute were hungry lips and hurried breaths. Kendra’s hand lowered, rubbing the front of Cale’s suit pants.
“Hard as a rock, indeed.”
Cale laughed. “That was fun. And exhausting. I am getting old. I seem to remember being able to keep up a lot better.”
“I’m surprised you remember that night at all.” She smirked. “Not going to pass out on me this time, are you?”
He scooped her up in his arms, making her squeal with surprise and delight as he growled, “Not a chance,” and dropped with her onto the big bed. “We have babies to make.”
*
Listening to Cale snore beside her in well-earned oblivion, Kendra’s concern crept back to chase away hope of slumber.
He was downplaying the threat here in New Orleans. He worried about his safety and hers, or he wouldn’t have allowed his brothers to linger. She knew better than to think Silas would confide in her. He’d shut her out, just like Cale, believing her weak and useless, someone to be pampered and protected. A princess, not a true queen.
Kendra hadn’t been wrong about one thing. Cale needed her. Not just to look pretty on his arm or to roll around with him in his bed. Something deep and dark twisted inside him. She didn’t have to know what it was to recognize the damage it could do.
Cale muttered softly and rolled toward her, reaching instinctively until he found her and pulled her close. Such a perfect fit, limbs entwined, breaths shared. His eyes flickered open, gleaming in the darkened room.
“Hey, mama. What are you doing up? Are they still going strong out there? I’ll chase them out if they’re bothering you.”
“All’s quiet.” Except her soul. Her palm stroked from rumpled hair to sleek tattooed shoulder, along taut ribcage to hip bone. A heart-shaking journey.
His lips grazed her brow. “Thanks for bringing them with you. I need my family. I don’t belong here.”
She took a chance. “Come home with me.”
“I want to. You have no idea how much.” Her hopes began to soar until he added, “But I can’t. Not yet.”
“When?”
“Soon.” He nibbled at her slight frown. “I promise.”
She accepted his kiss like his vow, somewhat anxiously, holding to his hard body to strengthen her resolve.
“None of that.” He pulled away with obvious reluctance. “I’ve got to get up early. I’m a working man now.”
“Mmmm. I should probably let you sleep.”
She stretched up for his mouth. Their tongues touched and gently mated, forcing him to finally groan, “Oh, hell. I’m already up anyway,” and rolled above her to prove it.
As much as she’d enjoyed their earlier rowdy couplings, she adored slow, sleepy sex when the focus wasn’t getting to an explosive end, but rather lingering over the intimate details. And one thing about Cale, he was very thorough.
He barely moved inside her, just enough to maintain a pleasing friction, seeing to those particulars. The leisurely way his hands buffed over shoulders, breasts, hips, thighs warmed her skin deliciously. Soft, sucking kisses drifted from her lips to chain about her throat. She arched and sighed, mapping out the powerful swell of his shoulders and scarred back beneath kneading fingers. A journey so gradual, so unhurried, the sudden conclusion struck like lightning from a blue sky.
Feeling it gather and roll through her, Cale gripped her hips hard, driving quickly to his own end with a fierce command.
“A son, Kendra. Give. Me. A. Son.”
*
She lay with eyes cl
osed listening to the sound of him moving stealthily about the room getting dressed to leave her. She’d managed brief snatches of sleep, but not enough to drive away the weariness and worry. Surrounded by the scent of freshly washed hair and skin, desire, more needy than lustful, stirred when he settled on the edge of the bed. Fearing what she’d say to him in this moment of weakness, she pretended sleep.
His hand settled warm and wide on her abdomen. For a long moment, he didn’t move. What would she see if she opened her eyes? Yearning, impatience? Or disappointment? Give me a son.
Finally, he leaned down, lips sketching across her cheek, whispering, “I love you, baby.” The edge of the mattress rocked, his weight lifting, her heart plunging. The door closed softly.
Her palm rested where his had lain, over the womb that would hold their future.
Words, pleas, arguments wouldn’t move him from whatever perilous course he’d chosen. But news of a pregnancy could. If she created that precious heir, he’d grab her up and whisk them both to the safety of their mountain compound, pulling their world in about them. The instinct to secure their line was the most powerful driving force known to their species, beginning with that season of madness in young males when consumed by the urge to mate in their fearsome natural form, and concluding with the primal drive to secure a bond.
Nothing meant more to Cale than fulfilling his legacy.
And nothing was what she’d provided.
It wasn’t because he hadn’t given her enough to work with. He’d sent a veritable SEAL team swimming upstream. Yet none of those determined warriors had planted its flag. Was it too soon to wonder if something was wrong?
Her female courses ran erratically, just like her life. She’d almost given up when they finally made an appearance late in her adolescence. Then they visited sporadically or not at all. Early emotional trauma was to blame but shouldn’t hinder natural reproduction. That’s what she’d been told. Shouldn’t didn’t carry the same certainty as wouldn’t. Had Bram Terriot managed to have the last laugh after all?
