by Thorne, Elle
Étienne took her hands. “It is.”
“So your grandmother’s name was not Amelia?”
“No, it was Marguerite, the stone at the grave where I was the first time you met me.”
“Father never knew about you?”
Étienne shook his head.
“Oh, the heartbreak. The heartbreak of those lives.” Celine burst into tears.
“No, love. Do not cry. Do not be troubled. Those times are past. Phillip and my mother…” He exhaled deeply. “…they lived the lives they lived, based on…” Another exhale. “I cannot carry my anger forever. I have to find goodness. I found goodness.” He kissed her temple, his lips brushing the soft hairs, his nose taking in the scent of this woman, his tiger relishing her essence as he breathed it in. “I found you.”
“I never imagined anything could be like this. Never.”
“It can be so much more, if you’ll be mine.”
“I already am.” Her eyes glistened, her tongue ran the course of her bottom lip.
“Ah, woman. You know not what you do to me.”
“I’d like to know. All of it. Everything.”
Étienne did not need more of an invitation.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Étienne’s breath was warm on Celine’s neck. A shiver washed over her. Her body on fire for him, she ached for his touch, and a yearning gathered somewhere south.
Her need for Étienne was fierce. Étienne awoke a part of her that needed to be taken and claimed by him. She could no sooner deny herself the pleasure of Étienne than she could her own breaths.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. His lips dove in, taking hers, conquering, claiming. She pressed against the muscled length of his body, drew her fingertips across the scars, traced them lightly.
His need for her pressed between them, a demanding, pulsing reminder.
Celine wrapped her arms around his neck, her knees weak, and her body quivering.
He slipped one hand under her top, his fingers hot on her flesh, searing with their touch.
Her nipples were tight with hunger for his touch. When his fingers brushed over the hard peaks, Celine gasped and closed her eyes. He pulled her top over her head.
She stood topless, quaking with desire, her breasts with taut nipples eager for him.
Étienne struck quickly, taking a nipple into his mouth, drawing it in.
The sensation sent her to a place she’d never been before. A moan sounded, and it took her a second to realize it was her own. With a hand on one breast and his mouth on another, he tortured and delighted her, making her body react.
Head thrown back, back arched, Celine held on to his shoulders, fearing her legs would turn to mush.
One of Étienne’s hands drifted ever lower, seeking fingers scorching her stomach, pausing at her waistband.
Celine’s breaths came out in pants while he slid her garments down.
* * *
Étienne swallowed with difficulty. Before him she stood, a veritable titian-haired goddess. No woman had ever gotten such a reaction from him or his tiger. He breathed in, taking her scent of excitement deeply into his lungs. He slid a hand down her body and cupped her mound, breathing deeply again.
“I want you.” He managed to struggle the words out, watching her face for any signs of distress. He was being forward, but then again, he wasn’t. In his heart and mind, and in his tiger’s, she was already theirs.
“Take me. God, make me yours. Please.” Her voice was husky with yearning, matching the scent of her. Her eyelids were heavy with desire.
Étienne’s fingers slid between her slick folds, the goal, her already swollen center, he rubbed in fast circles.
She writhed in his arms, nails digging into his arms, scoring the flesh, fueling his hunger.
Her movements spurred his fingers to rubbing her faster and faster while she moved, pulling him closer with her grip on his arms.
She whimpered, a low, carnal sound that began to build toward a peak until she screamed and hung on to him, her body giving in to the release.
“Étienne!” His name was one long moan as it left her lips. He dove in, claiming her mouth, his tongue twirling over hers, then dominant in the same way he wanted to claim all of her.
Her legs trembled as she watched him removed his pants with one hand and sit on a log, bringing her onto his lap in an embrace.
Bodies lined up just so, as if meant to be, his hardness found her moist entrance. With abandon, no control whatsoever, yielding to the hurricane force of passion that raged within him, Étienne pulled her down, harder than he’d planned, his length filling her, stretching her, but not all the way in.
A loud gasp escaped her as she took all of him.
As if this was not their first time, so well positioned and matched they were, she fit on him as if molded to him. Étienne moved his hips and she ground down, so deep, he groaned.
He was filled with the power of their desire. Heat traveled through his body, energy through his veins.
He groaned when she rocked her hips, fighting the urge to release. He was in her full hilt, the sounds of her passion pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
She thrust backward, her breasts arched up, her muscles tight around him.
Étienne leaned in, taking her nipple in his mouth, sucking on the stiff peak, relishing the way it pebbled further in his mouth.
“Celine. Ah, woman.” He needed her. He wanted her. He craved her. All of her.
His tiger released a snarl in agreement. Years of emotions escaped Étienne as he opened his mouth and let his tiger’s sentiments come out in a roar.
Celine leaned forward, drinking in the sound, taking in his pain and hope, making it her own.
Her complete melding to him was his undoing, pulling back with a grunt, he thrust deeply into her, filling her.
Her outcry matched his own. She gave as good as she got as she grabbed his shoulders, and pulled herself in, taking even more of him.
His tiger growled deeply within Étienne. The growling persisted until Étienne finally understood what the tiger was trying to communicate. He wanted Étienne to mark her as theirs. To bond with her, to couplebond, giving her a longer life, keeping them together. That sacred bond that no man or shifter could render asunder.
She has to want it, he reminded his tiger.
The tiger snarled.
“Are you mine?” he asked Celine. “Are you truly, forever mine?” Those were his tiger’s words, this he knew, but he felt them as well, just the same.
He thrust with every word, she thrust back, meeting his ferocity with as much passion as he had.
“Forever, Étienne. Forever,” she cried out as her body began to yield to the climax.
He felt his tiger pushing on him. Not desiring to shift, but to bond with her. The tiger insisted, pushing Étienne closer to coming undone.
That would be the moment to bond, when they met at the pinnacle of their climax.
When another of Celine’s moans filled the wooded area, matching the one when she’d climaxed earlier, Étienne picked up speed, sliding into her over and over, pounding against her body, yelling her name.
He leaned in, his mouth on the soft flesh where her shoulder met her neck and dug his canines in while his essence released deeply within her body, melding with her orgasm.
* * *
Celine rested softly in Étienne’s arms, their passions sated, their hearts beating as one. She glanced up at the man she’d give her life for. “That moment, when you bit me, that was…”
“A bond was formed, a couplebond. We are mated, forever.”
She sighed, leaned into his chest, her breath warm against his flesh. “Perfect.”
Epilogue
A few months later…
Étienne had moved into Arceneaux Plantation, had shifted his business interests south and lived with the woman he loved on the property he’d come to love.
He sat on the veranda, enjoy
ing a leisurely weekend breakfast with his mate.
“I have something to show you,” Celine took his hand.
“Where are we going?”
“Hush, no questions. Just come.” Celine led him down the path, past the cabins, making a beeline for the cemetery.
Étienne saw it long before they came upon it. A glowing, beautiful pink marble stone, dark maroon veins coursing through the pink hues, placed at the head of Nana’s grave.
“Ah, Celine. You did not. But clearly you did.” He was overwhelmed by emotion. “Words cannot express.”
She squeezed his hand.
It was then he noticed. “What’s the second stone about?” another stone, matching his grandmother’s.
“Your mother.”
“Really? That’s where she is? I always wondered. Nana never said.”
“I found some papers in the attic. It seems after your grandmother died, they put her possessions in a trunk. Somehow it ended up in the attic.”
“And the papers…”
“Confirmed what I knew. My father may have loved my mother, I don’t feel I have any reason to doubt that, but your mother was the love of his life. He never forgot her. And your grandmother knew that. She also feared for both of them, so she kept Olivia’s grave a secret, and let Phillip leave broken-hearted.”
For some reason, that gave Étienne a measure of comfort, though he knew if he were asked to explain it, there’d be no way he could.
Étienne lengthened his strides, eager to see the stones up close.
There, next to Nana’s marker, the matching one. “Olivia, daughter of Marguerite, loved by Phillip. I left space to add, mother to Étienne.” She studied his face. “If you’d ever like to.”
He couldn’t speak. Celine was the mate for him. He and his tiger had done well. She was more than his mate. She was his soul mate.
“Thank you,” he said, barely managing to get the words out, choked with emotion.
He felt the moisture on his back, knew it wasn’t sweat, knew it had begun as they’d walked near the cabins.
He knelt at the feet of his mother’s and grandmother’s graves. “Thank you, Celine. Thank you for the tribute to these two remarkable women.”
One woman who gave birth to him, the other, the woman who raised him.
“I have more plans for the cemetery. I have bids for upgrading, putting an ornate fence around it, some landscaping.
“Celine,” he kept his tone gentle. “I want it to stay as is.”
She quirked a brow. “Truly?”
“I can’t explain it. I need it to stay the way it is, the way I remember it. Except for the markers.”
She nodded. “I can appreciate that. I really can.”
“I told Claudette we’d take her to lunch, but before we go there’s something I want to talk to you about.” Concern flickered in her eyes. “We have to leave the plantation permanently. We cannot stay,” Celine whispered.
“We cannot leave. This is your home.”
“I will not choose my home over you.”
“Why do you have to make a choice?”
She touched his shoulder gently. “Your back. The blood.”
“I’m not leaving. This is our home.”
“Then you have to let me get you help.”
“Who can help with this?” he asked. But as soon as the question left his lips, he knew the answer. “You want to take me to see Latrice?”
“She can help.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’ve already talked to her?”
Celine nodded. “We spoke.”
“In that case, there is something you should know.” There was no way he could keep the truth from her, she was his mate. She was his tiger’s mate.
He told her about Lucia.
“Your past is your past. It’s who you are and what made you the man I love. Perhaps one day I can meet Lucia.”
“She is a remarkable woman,” he said, wishing he knew more about Lucia, wishing he could simply reach out and have her meet his mate, be a part of his life, let her be a part of his.
Celine accepted Lucia being his daughter better than he’d thought. She took his hand. “Any other secrets I should know about?”
“None. None that would ever threaten the love I have for you.”
“I have one for you. Lucia is not the only child, you know,” Celine said.
“So that’s what I was hearing…” Étienne cocked his head. “A second heartbeat. A baby.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and swung her in a circle, laughing. “We will create a new Arceneaux dynasty.”
“One that will outshine the tarnish of the past.” Celine laughed. “I’m getting dizzy, Étienne. Slow down.”
In his head, his tiger roared with happiness.
* * *
The next day, Celine sent for Latrice, who’d met them at the cabins.
Latrice turned to Étienne, her expression unreadable. “I can make you forget everything.”
“I do not want to forget everything. There is nothing served from forgetting the evil that men do. I want to always remember, but I have to find a way to live with it.”
“The bleeding,” Celine added, “it has to stop.”
“I can do that.”
Latrice stooped to pick up some dirt, then walked to the nearest cabin and pulled bark off the outside wall. “Come check tomorrow. See if you are free of this.” And just like that, without another word, she was gone.
* * *
The next morning at daybreak, Celine’s lips pressed against Étienne’s, waking him.
“Woman, did you not get enough of me last night,” he teased.
A slow growing blush kissed her cheeks. “Let’s test your back.”
“Now?” He knew already he would pass. He could sense it in his tiger, but he humored his mate, dressed, and led the way to the cabins.
Étienne strode up to the structures, never missing a beat, Celine behind him, while he just kept on marching, secure in the knowledge that Latrice’s spell had worked. He had felt it work when his tiger had finally been at peace.
He kept walking until he’d entered his grandmother’s cabin, the remnants of the vampire long cleaned up. It was Nana’s place again. He turned around and around, then raised his shirt over his head.
“Any blood?”
Celine kissed the long scars that had healed and never reopened. “Not a bit.”
She traced each one lovingly. “Will they ever disappear?”
“They never had before, but perhaps, now, maybe. Do you want them to?” He took her hands in his. “Tell me the truth.”
“No. They are you. Do you want them to disappear?”
He’d not thought of that. The only thing he gave thought to these days was life with Celine. “Not sure.”
“What will you tell our child?”
“What would you have me tell him?”
“Him?” She smiled. “Wishful thinking?”
“Hardly. I can differentiate the heartbeats.”
“Tell him the truth. It is said, it shall set you free.”
Étienne lowered his lips to hers.
“You have set my spirit free.”
“And you, mine.” She raised to her toes and sealed the covenant of their love.
Unbound
Glory Aleman is bound…
…bound to her duties, and bound by ancient law. She’s pledged to a shifter of another family to keep old bloodlines alive.
Dane Forester has been anything but bound…
He’s a freewheeling, sexy, successful, movie star who uses every role and every woman to escape and forget the heartbreak he left in Bitter Falls.
Great, right?
Sure, right up until a will-reading brings him back to Bitter Falls, and back to that which he never really escaped.
Again, no problem, right?
Oh-so-very wrong. Glory’s bound to another man, slated to become his in less than a month.
This was the role D
ane Forester was meant for. He better not choke.
Chapter One
Dane Forester leapt out of the military helicopter, spun midair and seized the rope dangling from a second identical helicopter. Hanging from the second one, sweat dripping down his forehead, he kept his eyes trained on the distance.
He waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
When the fuck is he going to call it?
Finally, the director yelled, “Cut!” The megaphone booming the sound so loudly it resonated in his mind.
Shifter hearing is way too damned sensitive for this shit.
Dane let go of the rope, jumped to the ground.
He looked to the director for a nod that the scene would work and he didn’t have to repeat the entire ordeal.
The director looked at a computer screen, pursed his lips, looked up at Dane, frowned, pursed them even more, and then cocked his head. “It’s beyond me how you do those stunts so damned well and usually on the first take.”
“Luck,” Dane smiled the practiced smile his publicist was convinced got him most of his roles. “Are we done?”
“It’s a wrap.”
Dane wondered if he could slip away without catching anyone’s eye. He headed toward his trailer, where he had a change of clothes, a ball cap, and some dark sunglasses. If he could escape—
“Dane.”
He turned toward the voice and frowned when he saw his agent. “What are you doing here?” Damn, hope he’s not here with another role. I was hoping for a long break.
“Nice to see you too.” His agent crabbed right back with a forgiving smile. “You’re not answering your phone.”
“Yeah, well, I was jumping from helicopter to helicopter and dangling midair.” He instantly regretted saying that when he saw the expression that crossed his agent’s face. Dane raised a hand, preempting the words he already knew his oldest human friend in Hollywood was going to say. “I know how you feel about it. I won’t quit doing my own stunts.”
