by Selena Blake
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Cobblestone Press
www.cobblestone-press.com
Copyright ©2008 by Selena Blake
First published in 2008
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Author Bio
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Cajun's Captive
Copyright© 2008 Selena Blake
ISBN: 978-1-60088-269-2
Cover Artist: Dan Skinner
Editor: Rebecca Ochoa
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Cobblestone Press, LLC
www.cobblestone-press.com
Dedication
To Dena Celeste, for being such a wonderful friend and always being there when I need a quick read. And to Deanna Lee, for believing in me.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter One
June
The low rumble of thunder drew Sebastian Deveraux's gaze to the East window where he could see the mighty Mississippi and its churning dark waters. The morning's slow drizzle reached a downpour crescendo. He sighed, knowing that the hurricane looming in the Gulf of Mexico would wreak havoc with his shipping business. At least for the next few weeks.
The wet weather and dropping barometer made his joints ache. He knew he should at least call the office to make sure his second in command had things under control, but he was having a hard time convincing his body to get out of bed. As the Alpha, it was his job to protect his pack and take care of their needs. And that took money. In another few years, it would be time to sell Deveraux Shipping and fade into the woodwork.
Humans would get suspicious if the CEO of a shipping empire never seemed to age. He was feeling ancient today. And lonely to boot.
In his wolf form, he rose up on all fours and stretched before heading to his closet. The original floors of the old plantation house were cool against his paws. He'd loved the wide pine planks on sight and hadn't wanted to do anything more than seal them and toss down a soft rug or two.
Inside his closet, he transformed into his human self, his muscles and bones stretching and compacting until he straightened to his full six feet four inches. He leaned his head to the right and heard, as much as felt, his neck pop. Today's muggy weather called for jeans and a T-shirt.
He was zipping his favorite pair of Levi's when the scent of gumbo wafted under his nose. He sniffed the air appreciatively. One of his brothers must be heating up last nights leftovers for breakfast. Like any red-blooded man or beast, he loved to eat. Loved meat, loved anything that set his taste buds on fire and made his mouth water.
Dieu, he missed France. Missed the food, craved the bread, a sip of French wine straight from the vineyard. But he could never go back. He clenched his jaw at the flood of memories that rushed forth.
Slipping a T-shirt over his head, he strode to the kitchen and found Andre stirring the gumbo in a heavy cast iron pot. They nodded at each other in greeting.
"Coffee's on,” Andre said, his deep voice sleepy and rough.
"Merci. Jules up yet?"
"Non. Think any more about what he said, mon frere?"
Sebastian had thought of little else. He hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep last night. Jules, and the rest of their small pack, wanted a secure future and everything that went with it. Mates, kids. Sebastian wanted the same thing. But that security came with a price. As wealthy as he was, it didn't matter when he wasn't mated.
Being mated was a sign of security, one he longed to give his brothers and cousins. A complete Alpha pair. It would signify their future.
But when he thought of his other half, the woman who'd stand at his side, it wasn't a she-wolf he pictured. And when he thought of his pups, they didn't have dark hair like he and his brothers. They were angelic blonds with piercing blue eyes and infectious smiles.
Impossible. He mentally shook the thoughts away.
"I can't just pick up a mate at the market,” Sebastian said. He'd said as much last night.
Andre watched him with dark eyes. The same eyes that all the Deveraux men were blessed with: dark as night, filled with stormy emotions and a sense of cunning found only in a true predator.
"Forgive me, brother, but I don't think dating bimbos and celebrities is going to help in your search."
"I didn't realize I was searching,” Sebastian said. He took a sip of the strong black elixir that promised to jolt him awake. The hot liquid hit his tongue and scalded its way down his throat.
Truth was, there was only one woman he'd ever wanted as a mate. But she obviously wasn't destined to be his other half, his Luna. The weight of his responsibility pressed down heavily on his shoulders. He knew he should step aside and let Andre become the Alpha, but nothing was that simple. There was no stepping aside for wolves. Everything had to be fought and won. And Sebastian had no intention of fighting his own brother.
After a long pause, Andre muttered, “We all wanted her, you know."
"She was never yours to have,” Sebastian snapped. Andre didn't look surprised or hurt at the outburst; he simply flicked his gaze to the floor, but Sebastian apologized anyway.
"You should go after her,” his brother ventured.
"It wasn't meant to be."
"Are you still buying into that stars aligning crap? Mon Dieu. Enough already, mon frere. If you want her, you must go get her. Make her listen to reason. Find out why she ran. Bring her back and make her yours.” Andre's voice rang with emotion. He almost sounded like he, himself, had been in love. Painfully, completely ... and lost her. “Tie her up if you have to."
A sharp sound outside caught his attention. Not thunder, nor rain. Something else. A low growl sounded from the hallway.
"Jules is up,” Sebastian said and headed toward the sound. Even though he saw nothing out of place, he knew that the walls around his estate didn't keep out reporters, tourists, and the occasional woman, desperate for a wealthy husband. His sharper wolf senses took over as he slipped into his bedroom and looked around. It was just as he'd left it. He saw nothing but rain through the window, but his keen ears could hear someone breathing. He exited his room and moved toward the front of the house. His brother, Jules—still in furry form—was in the large foyer.
"You take the back,” Sebastian told him and headed for the front door.
The wide front porch wrapped all the way around the house and he quickly made his way to far side that ran the length of his bedroom. The rain beat on the roof above his head, drowning out his footsteps.
The blonde peering into his bedroom window never heard him approach.
"Can I help you?” he asked mildly when he was within pouncing distance. Shrieking, she whirled to face him
, backing up at the same time. Her hands came up to balance herself, but it was too late. He made no move to rescue her even though he could have. Her momentum toppled her over the railing and into the soggy grass below. She landed flat on her back.
From the edge of the porch, he stared down at her not feeling the least bit sorry for startling her. What did a man have to do to get privacy?
Her wheat colored hair covered her face and the rain slowly soaked her clothes. She seemed too startled to move. Finally, she eased up on her elbows. Her breasts heaved and fell as if she might start crying. The last thing he wanted was a crying woman. Or a lawsuit.
"You all right?"
With a perfectly polished hand, she flicked her hair out of her face and glared up at him. The blue eyes that locked with his couldn't have surprised him more if there'd been eight of them.
Amanda St. James. Alive and in his yard.
Couldn't be. He narrowed his gaze and took in her features. Same cute pixie nose. Same rosy, heart-shaped mouth he'd longed to kiss. Same delicious curves that his hands itched to caress.
Suddenly he was transported a decade ago when they'd all been hanging out on a hot summer day. It had been August. Suffocatingly humid. Then Amanda had grabbed the hose and proceeded to drench him and his brothers to the bone. Her kissable mouth had laughed and smiled as they'd chased her. When they'd finally caught her, turning the hose on her, the water had plastered her clothes to her sweet young body.
It had taken all his willpower not to carry her off that very afternoon. To kiss her all over—from that adorable nose, to those delicious berry pink lips, to her hot pink toenails.
The clap of thunder brought him back to the present. His eyes didn't fool him. He sniffed the air and her scent filled his lungs. She smelled so sweet, so familiar, and so wonderful that he almost closed his eyes to savor it. Instead, he took in her pitiful form. She looked like a drowned cat. He watched as the rain molded her shirt to her breasts. Either from cold or, heaven help him, desire, her nipples beaded beneath the fabric and stood out like pebbles.
He clenched his fists. Long dormant need surged upward startling him with its intensity. Its rawness. He hadn't seen or heard from her in nine long years but he'd never stopped wanting her. It was the reason he dated a long stream of women, never settling down. He'd never felt this kind of urgency with anyone else. Although he'd tried to wipe away her memory, none of them could compare to Manda. His Manda.
But her presence now reminded him of how she'd fled all those years ago. She'd gone off to Yankee country for school. Then she'd gone on to work for one of the biggest broadcast companies in the country. Never looked back. Never called. Simply fled. Ran from him.
His inner beast had been too proud to let him chase. Had been sure she'd come back in a week or two. Weeks had turned into years and now almost a decade. Now the beast growled deep inside, for the years he'd lost, for making him want her so, making him wait. It lay coiled, anxious and ready to spring to life and take what it wanted.
He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to keep the dangerous animal inside on a tight leash.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Amanda St. James.” He couldn't keep the disdain from his voice. He hoped to hell she couldn't hear the hurt, the yearning ... “Did the Yanks kick you out? Get too cold for ya up north?"
"What a mean thing to say.” For a moment, she looked genuinely wounded. But he told himself that was part of her game. The network probably sent her.
"Then what are ya doin’ here?” Probably snooping for a story, he thought. Figured she'd use her looks, her connections, to get it. Like hell, she was going to get her story.
Her tongue slipped between her glossy pink lips to lick a raindrop. That simple movement reminded him of all the times she'd licked her lips, stuck out her tongue at him—reminded him of everything he really wanted in life.
And just how much he wanted to kiss her.
Once again, he took in her sad wet form and saw everything he'd wanted for hundreds of years. Everything he'd been denied and had denied himself.
Sebastian knew he couldn't be angry; she was worth the wait. He couldn't let her get away again. This was a sign from the Gods. She was meant to be his. He'd known it all those years ago when he'd watched her blossom in front of his eyes. While he'd waited for her to grow up. Waited for her to come to him.
He still knew it. Nothing had changed, he reasoned. Except that he wanted her more now than he had nine years ago.
And she was well over eighteen now. He would finally make her his.
With the effortless grace his kind was known for, he leapt over the railing and landed at her feet. Oblivious to the rain, he glared down at her.
"Get up,” he ordered. She started to crab crawl backwards but she couldn't get away fast enough. In a lightning fast move, he hoisted her over his shoulder. She barely weighed more than a sack or two of sugar.
"What are you doing?” she cried.
"Taking what's mine."
He knew the instant she comprehended his words. She squirmed and wiggled like a bunny in a trap, but it didn't matter. He had her where he wanted her.
For now.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Two
"Put me down!"
"Relax, chérie." He carried her around to the front of the house and across the threshold, past the open wooden door. His brothers were nowhere to be seen.
"I'll give you the quick tour,” he said, knowing she couldn't see more than the floor. “The foyer. This is the hallway. And this...” He deposited her in the middle of his oversized bathroom. “Is the bathroom."
She shivered as his gaze raked over her petite frame. Her nipples were still beaded beneath the fabric. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a pointed look. He merely raised an eyebrow.
"Who do you think you are?” Her eyes blazed up at him and color stained her cheeks even as droplets of water slid down her creamy skin.
She'd always been the embodiment of beauty. Natural, wholesome, dazzling in her sweetness. Even now, in her black Capris and soaking white top that would give any woman in a wet T-shirt contest a run for her money. Even when she looked angry as fire, there was still a sweetness about her.
Why was she angry? he wondered. She was the one trespassing on his property. And it wasn't his fault she'd done a back flip into the mud. Okay, so technically it was his fault since he'd surprised her, but...
"You know exactly who I am, chérie. Or have you forgotten since you ran away?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
He could tell she was trying not to shiver, not show him any weakness. Her eyes feigned innocence.
"Don't play innocent, doll. You know who I am, just like I know who you are. I've always known."
"You're right. I know what you are. What I want to know is why you're acting like a caveman!"
"What is it you think you know, petite?” he asked, ignoring her last question.
She backed away from him, her eyes going wide. “Loup-garou,” she whispered, her bottom lip trembling.
Her French was surprisingly rusty and he threw back his head and laughed. “You think I'm a Cajun werewolf? That I kill bad little Catholics? Is that what you think?"
"I saw you."
Shit. She'd been watching when he'd walked into his closet. Perhaps it was time to call his decorator to install some automatic blinds.
"Hey, Wolf. Come!” he called to his brother. Jules, still in his wolf form, padded into the bathroom. Sebastian could see the surprise, the interest in his brother's keen brown eyes. His rough brown coat seemed to bristle when he looked up at Amanda.
"Is this what you saw?” he asked her.
"It's a trick!” Her hands came down on her hips and she scowled at them.
"No trick, chérie. Now, why don't you tell me what you're really doing here?” He bent down and scratched Jules behind the ears as he would a dog. Jules hated this kind of treatment, but Sebast
ian knew he was accepting it because he wanted to know why lil’ Manda St. James was in Sebastian's bathroom.
"I—I didn't know this was your house.” She was lying through her pretty pink lips. Jules must have known it, too, because he growled low in his throat. Manda backed up another step and hit the granite counter top. She reached back to steady herself.
"S'okay boy,” he reassured quietly and glanced back up at her. “We don't believe that chérie. We know you're here to do a story on me. What's your angle? Big businessman dating Hollywood Starlet? Or are you going for something more local?"
"I don't know what you're talking about,” she repeated. This time her voice didn't quiver. She actually sounded like she believed what she was saying.
"Really? Go get something to eat, Wolf,” he said, dismissing his brother. Jules slowly backed from the room and trotted away. Sebastian straightened and stepped toward her until they were toe-to-toe. She leaned away with a little gasp that told him she wasn't as calm as she wanted him to believe. There was desire in the depths of those pretty blue eyes and her body called to his. He longed to pinch her nipples between his fingers until she cried out his name. Until she begged him to take her. Instead, he settled for placing a hand on the counter on either side of her and leaning in close. This way he wouldn't miss a detail of her reaction.
"I know about you too,” he continued. “How you ran away. Went to Columbia. Graduated with honors. Went on to sign with ABC. You just got promoted. What am I missing, Amanda?"
"I didn't run away,” she told him firmly, even as she shivered.
"I don't believe you, but it doesn't matter. This is a game you don't want to play with me, Amanda. I might have lost you all those years ago, but I'm not going to lose this time. You're back and I don't intend to let you leave again."
He didn't give her a chance to say a word. Instead, he flicked the shower on and gave her a dark look that told her to do exactly what he said.
"Get out of those wet clothes."
A look of surprise crossed her face that would have amused him had she not then glanced at the door as if to gauge how quickly she could get away from him.
