Bayou Heat Collection Two

by Alexandra Ivy

  He’d protested when she’d pulled on her clothes and grabbed the brush his grandmother had left behind. He wanted another few hours of having her naked and sweaty beneath him, but he couldn’t argue with her point that the clinic wasn’t the most private place to indulge his endless lust for his mate.

  In a few hours the Healers would be satisfied he was strong enough to leave and he intended to choose one of the empty cabins that was on the opposite side of the Wildlands from his family home.

  Once he had Sage alone he was going to lock the door and throw away the key.

  Until then he had to be satisfied with the feel of her hands running through his hair as she pulled it into a braid.

  Savoring her soft touch and the lemony scent that clung to his skin, Lian scowled as a sharp knock intruded into their peaceful silence.

  “Go away,” he snapped.

  The door was shoved open to reveal Raphael, who was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt despite the fact his wounds hadn’t fully healed.

  Lian tensed, a sudden anger racing through him as he caught sight of the male’s bleak expression.

  Dammit.

  They’d just survived yet another attempt by Shakpi to commit genocide.

  Hadn’t they earned a few centuries of peace and quiet?

  “I have news,” the leader of the Suits announced.

  “Do you want me to leave?” Sage asked, already moving off the bed.

  “No, you’re pack now.” Lian wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight against his side. “Our business is your business.”

  She stiffened, as if waiting for Raphael to deny her right to be at Lian’s side.

  Of course he didn’t.

  Sage was pack.

  “He’s right,” Raphael said with a simple honesty. “You belong to us.”

  Feeling Sage relax against his side, Lian focused his attention on his friend.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We had word from Mercier and Rosalie’s kidnappers.”

  A growl rumbled in Lian’s chest.

  So they had been taken by the enemy.

  “Bastards,” he ground out. “Did you inform them that their goddess has abandoned them?”

  “Yes.”

  Lian narrowed his eyes. “And?”

  A sudden heat filled the air as Raphael struggled to contain his fury.

  “And their demands have nothing to do with Shakpi.”

  “Then what the hell do they want?” Lian asked. Without their evil goddess to give them a purpose, he’d expected them to slink into the shadows. “Money?”

  “No.” Raphael’s expression was hard as stone. “An exchange for one of our prisoners.”

  An icy chill of premonition inched down Lian’s spine.

  “Who?”

  Raphael clenched his hands, the name coming out like a curse.

  “Hiss.”

  ROCH

  By Laura Wright

  CHAPTER 1

  After a quick shift from puma to Pantera, Roch stood on the dirt path outside Medical and slid the knot of his wrinkled tie into place.

  “Isn’t that the same suit you had on last night, brother?” Damien asked, his black eyes heavy with amusement.

  Roch regarded his friend and colleague. “Yes, it is.” He didn’t like it, but time demanded it be so. The position of Diplomat deserved the respect of a suit—even if that suit was rumpled and carried the faint scent of a night gone awry.

  As a morning breeze off the bayou moved over them, the tall, black-haired male chuckled. “You’re such a manwhore, you know that?”

  “Don’t insult me, Damien,” Roch said, running his fingers through his thick, disheveled blond hair. He was never sleeping on a couch again. No matter what the circumstance.

  “What? By calling you a whore?”

  “No. By calling me a man.” Roch turned his ice blue gaze on his fellow Suit. His brows lifted a fraction of an inch. “Besides, nothing happened with the female.”

  The male snorted. “Yeah, I believe that. Remember, I know you. Have seen how the females respond to you. It’s unfair as hell.” He paused to wave to a couple of female Hunters passing by. When they barely gave him a second glance, he turned his attention back to Roch, his expression hopeful. “Teach me.”

  Roch cracked a dry smile. Damien was a good male; funny, honest and loyal. Not to mention a brilliant Diplomat. But this understanding of his, this belief that Roch possessed some kind of sexual magic, or—pardon the phrase—catnip with the females he encountered was complete bullshit. All he had was an open and respectful desire. And maybe the belief that a female’s pleasure came before his own.

  “I saw you leave The Cougar’s Den with her,” Damien pointed out. “And you show up this morning in the same clothes, looking like you hardly slept.” He grinned. “That’s what I call a successful night.”

  Roch growled softly with impatience. The night before had been anything but successful. In fact, it had been pretty much hell. Owning to it wasn’t high on his priority list, but he knew Damien wouldn’t stop questioning him until he was tossed a little something to satisfy his curiosity.

  “The female is getting married in a week,” Roch said, wishing he’d had time to stop home for a shower. No matter how he tried to play this, Raphael and the other Suits were going to give him some serious shit about the wrinkled jacket and pants—not to mention the lingering odors of alcohol and a pissed-off stomach.

  Damien looked genuinely confused. “So she’s getting married. And?”

  “I don’t play with claimed females, Damien.”

  The confusion on the male’s face deepened. “Then what did you do last night?”

  Her roommate.

  Roch grinned at that. At his foolish, yet highly decadent thoughts. It had been the plan. He’d even agreed to let the engaged human female watch—which she’d been damn keen on doing. But then hell had pulled him under, shaking and churning his guts until he’d become violently ill. First all over the white sheepskin rug on their living room floor, then in the bathroom for a good two hours. He’d passed out on their couch shortly after, like a hammered teenager.

  Granted, Pantera had their share of medical issues to deal with, but stomach sickness was a rarity. He’d woken up late and apologized profusely to the women. And on his way back to the bayou, he had called to arrange for a new rug to be delivered and maid service to come to their apartment.

  “Forget last night,” Roch said, motioning for Damien to follow as he headed toward the doors of Medical. “Today is what matters. And the work ahead. But I will say that Hiss had better give us the answers we’re looking for. My cat is just aching to attack something.”

  “Hiss?” Damien repeated, his brows slamming together in confusion. “Is that who we’re meeting with this morning?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  The male shook his head. “Didn’t know who we’re meeting, and sure as hell didn’t know he’d been brought to Medical.”

  A flicker of unease moved through Roch. It wasn’t like the leader of the Suits to keep information from his faction members. “I’m sure Raphael meant to inform you.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t trust me.”

  The bitterness in Damien’s voice wasn’t hard to miss. It was difficult being the newest member of any faction, but with the Diplomats it was doubly so. There was so much information, so much protocol—so many secrets that needed to be kept to protect the Pantera.

  “Why would you think that?” Roch asked him.

  The male shrugged. “Hiss was a friend back when we were cubs.”

  With a sniff of amusement, Roch yanked the door wide. “Hiss had many friends. Raphael is no doubt suffering from intense stress due to Shakpi’s dramatic departure, and that we’ve been outed to the humans—and then there’s the lack of sleep due to the incessant squawk of one called Soyala.”

  That seemed to both smooth the male’s raised hackles and cause him to grin. “The cub. I’m sure
he doesn’t mind her cries. A young is a great blessing to a male.”

  “To some males, that’s true,” Roch answered. “I, however, prefer work—and the cries of a male who’s just come clean after a particularly rough interrogation.”

  Damien laughed. “So, why was Hiss brought here?”

  “They’re testing him,” Roch said as they moved down the hall. “His blood, heart, mind—even his cat. While his tongue remains quiet, the Nurturers are hoping to glean some information as to why our new enemies would trade two Pantera for one. Why Hiss is so important to them.”

  “I still think loyalty to these humans could be a factor,” Damien put in, giving a quick smile to a passing female who was in her puma state. “Maybe they have a long history. Maybe they consider Hiss one of their own. And the exchange for Rosalie and Mercier is their way of demonstrating that.”

  Medical was alive with activity, as it always was in the morning hours. Roch spotted Raphael up ahead. The leader of the Diplomatic Faction was dressed sharply in a tailored black suit and was speaking intently to one of the head Nurturers, Jean-Baptiste.

  “Well, they can have him,” Roch said with a growl. “As soon as he tells us everything he knows, and we have our loyal Pantera back again.”

  A few feet from his boss, Roch gritted his teeth as his stomach rolled hard and fast again. What the hell was going on with him? Bad alcohol? Bad food? What? And why was it still affecting him? As he neared the two Pantera, he shoved the feeling back. He didn’t have time for ailments. He had a job to do. And, he mused with a forced grin, the cries of a traitor male to elicit.

  ***

  Fired.

  FIRED!?!

  Lydia Page stared at the trees swaying in the breeze outside the picture window and wondered why she hadn’t anticipated the reaction from the partners at her law firm. Maybe because they were both women, and had children of their own? Of course, they also had husbands and nannies to go along with those children. But surely they understood that she'd be committed to the firm even if she had a child?

  Nope.

  To be fair, they hadn’t said they were firing her because of her pregnancy. Because, you know, that would be highly illegal. Instead, they’d claimed they were firing her for excessive absences. Which was such crap. With the illness and subsequent death of her mother six months ago, she’d taken some time off. Two days over her allotment, to be specific—two days both partners had verbally agreed to. But as a lawyer, she knew how well oral agreements stood up, and how quickly they were forgotten.

  Behind her, the office door opened. “Ms. Page,” came the doctor’s voice. “Thank you for coming in today.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  It was this very lunchtime appointment at The Haymore Center that her assistant had both scheduled and shared with one of the partners’ assistants a few days ago. Clearly, the partners didn’t believe that a single mother could put in the kind of hours they wanted.

  Well, screw them, Lydia thought, her eyes now set on the doctor seated across from her. She could get another job. Hell, maybe she’d even open her own practice.

  “How are you today, Ms. Page?” the doctor inquired, his gaze trained on the paperwork before him on the desk.

  “Fine,” she said brightly. “No morning sickness yet. But I’m sure that will come. My mom was really sick with me from six weeks to four months. Barfing all the time.” She smiled and touched her flat belly. “But what’s a little barf when you get something so precious at the end of it, right?” She laughed softly.

  The doctor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ms. Page, I’d like to discuss your blood test and ultrasound results.”

  It was then that he looked up from his paperwork and met her gaze. His eyes were a cold brown and deep set. His mouth a thin, tense line. Lydia felt the blood drain from her face, and her heart start to pound. “What’s wrong? The baby—”

  “The baby looks fine,” he said evenly. “Healthy.”

  “Oh my god.” She put a hand to her chest. “Oh, thank goodness. I—”

  “But there is something we need to talk about,” he amended.

  The relief from a moment ago evaporated and heat prickled through her. “What?”

  “The embryo’s development is further along than it should be.” His tone was unsympathetic at best.

  Lydia’s hands started to tremble. “What does that mean? How far along is it?”

  “The fetus should be measuring four weeks. But instead, it’s twelve.”

  Lydia stared at him, her heart beating so fast now it actually hurt. She’d only met Dr. Ambrose twice. Once for a consult, and the second time when he performed the insemination. The man was purported to be a genius so she had overlooked his lack of warmth and bedside manner. With the job she’d hired him to do, skill was far more important than kindness. But right then, staring at him across his desk, feeling as though she might implode from fear and grief, she wouldn’t have minded a little bit of gentleness.

  “What does this mean?” she asked in a near whisper. “And why did it happen?” My baby…

  Once again, the door opened behind her and a woman’s voice called out, “Knock, knock.”

  “Come in, Erin,” the doctor said in a grave tone, avoiding Lydia’s gaze as much as possible now.

  The woman strode past Lydia and came to stand beside the doctor. She was somewhere in her mid-thirties, with pale brown hair and dark, intelligent eyes. She looked from Lydia to the doctor, then back again. “I see you’ve been told.”

  Her words were meant to sound sympathetic, but they came out detached and clinical. Lydia clasped her hands together. Her palms were cold and wet. “Yes,” she said.

  “I am sorry, Ms. Page,” she said, handing Lydia a document. “But I’m sure you understand why it’s imperative that you terminate this pregnancy immediately.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “I’ve told Raphael and now I’ll tell you,” Hiss growled. “The only Pantera I will speak to are the elders.”

  The Hunter could be damn intimidating, even strapped down to a bed with needles sticking out of his arms. Though he felt like shit, Roch stood imposingly over the male, arms crossed over his chest. “You think you’re in any position to make demands, traitor?”

  “Yes, I believe I am.”

  “Arrogance won’t get you anywhere but back in a cell,” Roch threatened.

  “The elders will never come here,” Damien put in from his position at the foot of the bed. “So just do us all a favor and end this. Tell us why these humans want you.”

  “I don’t know,” he ground out, his dark grey eyes narrowing with hatred.

  “Bullshit,” Damien growled.

  “Give us names, addresses and plans,” Roch said calmly. “And we’ll return you to your humans.”

  Hiss’s lip curled. “They’re not my humans, asshole. They’re not my anything. I don’t know them. My dealings were with the followers of Shakpi. And whatever I did, whoever I used, it was for myself and my family alone. Not for some human cause.”

  “Maybe we should bring Reny here,” Roch suggested, watching to see if the male’s cat flashed behind his eyes. It didn’t. It hadn’t in quite some time. “Let the long-lost sister have a visit with her traitor brother. Have a nice familial heart-to-heart.”

  “Fuck you,” Hiss ground out.

  Roch leaned in, bile forming in his throat. “No. Fuck you. No matter what your reasons for doing what you did, they weren’t good enough. You screwed your kind, your blood. You have forced us out of hiding. You have created fear in the hearts of our females. Including your sister.” Concerned that he could vomit on the male with all the seizing up going on inside his belly, he stood up again. “You know they have Rosalie, right?”

  Hiss’s expression turned pained. “Yes, I know.”

  “She’s a good friend of yours, isn’t she?”

  This time Hiss didn’t answer. He turned away.

  “You know what, you don�
�t even deserve to breathe, you—oh, fuck me—” Roch sucked in air, his legs threatening to buckle. A wave of dizziness was moving over and through him. If he remained, he was going to lose his shit. He pushed away from the bed and growled to his colleague. “Take over, Damien.”

  “Hey,” the male called after him as he headed for the door. “You all right?”

  “Just keep at it,” Roch ground out. “I’ll inform Raphael.”

  He stumbled out into the hallway. This was bullshit. Whatever was going on with him. He didn’t do sickness. He didn’t accept anything that pulled him away from his work. His cat scratched at his insides as he walked down the hall. The thing wanted out. No. It wanted to take over. It knew his male form was weak, and this scratching, pawing—it was a protective instinct.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  Roch gave Raphael a quick nod as the male fell into step beside him. “Just something I ate.” Or drank. Or came into contact with. Or…who the hell knows.

  “You look like shit,” the leader of the Suits remarked. “Come to think of it, you looked like shit when you got here. You should go get checked out.”

  “No,” Roch said quickly and gruffly.

  “Come on, brother. Jean-Baptiste can take a quick look. Or if you want a female, Doc Julia—”

  “I said I’m fine.” Roch picked up the pace. He needed to get outside. Air. Sun. His puma. A Pantera’s digestive system was quick to flush out anything it didn’t like, so whatever was going on with him should pass in a few hours. “I’m going home.”

  Raphael continued to follow him. “Are you sure you can make it on your own?”

  The growl Roch tossed the male’s way ended the question and answer session. But it also stole some of Roch’s strength. “I left Damien with Hiss…” he managed to mutter before he hit the glass doors.

  “Fine. Just go,” Raphael called after him. “I got this.”

  Roch burst through the doors, and the second the sunshine hit his skin and the breeze of the bayou entered his nostrils, his cat took over. It was as though his male form melted into his puma, and he instantly felt strong and healthy.