Lian/Roch (Bayou Heat)

by Alexandra Ivy

  Lian/Roch

  Bayou Heat 9 & 10

  by

  Alexandra Ivy

  and

  Laura Wright

  Lian/Roch

  Bayou Heat 9 & 10

  Digital Edition

  Published by Alexander Ivy and Laura Wright

  9780986064166

  Copyright © 2014 by Alexandra Ivy and Laura Wright

  Editor: Julia Ganis

  Cover Art by Patricia Schmitt (Pickyme)

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  Table of Contents

  Lian by Alexandra Ivy

  Roch by Laura Wright

  Lian

  by Alexandra Ivy

  Chapter 1

  The streets of the small town of La Pierre, Louisiana were empty and the handful of houses locked up tight.

  It could be because it was well past midnight with the faintest hint of an autumn chill in the air.

  Or maybe it was the fact that the town was perched on the edge of the bayous where anything might crawl out and attack the unwary. Including a race of puma shifters known as Pantera who the humans had just learned weren’t creatures of myth and legend.

  Yeah, that might make the locals a little twitchy.

  There was, however, one business in town that was still open to customers no matter how late or dangerous it might be.

  The Cougar’s Den was the local bar that doubled as a meeting place for the Pantera.

  The two-story wooden building was built on tall stilts with a tin roof that was faded to a miserable shade of mustard. There were also shutters painted a dull green that could offer protection during hurricane season, and a rickety staircase that had nearly been the death of more than one human trying to make their way home after a long night of drinking.

  Inside there was the mandatory bar with tall stools, a cramped dance floor and a couple of shabby pool tables at the back of the long, darkly paneled barroom.

  There was even an old-fashioned jukebox that was currently blaring out Lynyrd Skynyrd to the dozen Pantera males lined up at the bar or playing pool.

  Perched on one of the stools, Lian sipped his chilled water, looking every inch a badass Hunter.

  It wasn’t just the fact he was well over six foot, with broad shoulders and muscles that looked like they’d been carved from granite. Or the dark hair that had been pulled into a long braid that hung to his waist. Or even the jeans and faded Iron Maiden shirt.

  It was the restless hunger in the whiskey-gold eyes and the barely leashed violence that buzzed in the air around him.

  Of course, the Suit seated next to him didn’t look much more civilized.

  Michel might be a Diplomat, but there was no mistaking the fact that a lethal predator prowled behind those cunning green eyes. Oh, and if that wasn’t scary enough, there was also the skull-shaved head, and broad body that was currently covered by a casual cotton shirt that was tucked into his black slacks.

  At the moment, he was tossing back his favorite shot of whiskey as Lian filled him in on the latest happenings in the Wildlands.

  Raphael, the leader of the Suits, had been careful not to share too much information when he sent out word to call his Diplomatic staff home. They’d discovered the hard way that not everyone could be trusted. Not even among the Pantera.

  “Hiss is a traitor?” the Suit breathed in horror. “Fuck me.”

  Lian nodded. There were a lot of ‘fuck mes’ going around the Wildlands over the past few days.

  Not only because Hiss had been actively working with their enemies, but because the Pantera had been attacked by the disciples of Shakpi who’d been determined to sacrifice Ashe’s baby.

  Oh, and the fact that they had the evil goddess—who was currently unconscious and trapped in a human body—locked in a secluded cabin in the middle of the Wildlands.

  “Yeah, that’s the general consensus.”

  Michel gave a shake of his head. “Why would he betray us?”

  “He claims the elders were responsible for the death of his family. Only—”

  Lian halted, glancing around the room to make sure there weren’t any humans lurking in the dark corners.

  “Only what?” Michel prompted.

  He pitched his voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry. Even if there weren’t any humans close enough to overhear his words, and the jukebox continued to blare out Sweet Home Alabama, he simply assumed that the place had been bugged.

  At least in the public rooms.

  Paranoid? Maybe. But the past few weeks had taught him that they had enemies hiding everywhere.

  Hiss was proof of that.

  Damn him to hell.

  “Only Sebastian’s new mate, Reny, is his sister.”

  Shock widened Michel’s eyes. “Hiss’s sister?”

  “Yep.”

  “I thought his entire family was dead.”

  “That’s what we all thought.”

  “Shit. I need another round.”

  Michel motioned to the tall, golden-haired male who was lazily washing glasses. The Pantera spy who was currently acting as a bartender tossed the bottle in Michel’s direction, obviously sensing the Suit needed more than one shot.

  Lian reached for his water, lifting it toward his friend. “At least we have some good news.”

  “We do.” Michel abruptly smiled. “The babe.”

  Despite the fact they were ass-deep in trouble, the birth of Raphael and Ashe’s baby was something they could all celebrate. The first child born to the Pantera in over fifty years.

  “She takes after her mother,” Lian murmured. “A true beauty.”

  “To Soyala,” the Suit announced, his voice deep in tribute as he touched his glass to Lian’s. “Our future.”

  “To Soyala.”

  They both took a drink before Michel was setting aside his glass and studying Lian with a somber expression.

  “Did Raphael tell you why he was calling the Suits back to the Wildlands?”

  “He wasn’t comfortable sharing the fact that Shakpi is still alive over the phone,” Lian pointed out in wry tones. “Plus, he wants to hear firsthand what’s going on in the world. He’s worried about the humans and their reactions to learning the Pantera aren’t just a figment of their imagination.”

  “Yeah, he should be.” Michel rubbed the back of his neck, his expression troubled. “The stories of rabid man-beasts who sneak out of the swamps to eat babies and rape women are all over the streets of New Orleans. Half the population wants to drop a nuke on the Wildlands to get rid of the dangerous mutants, and the other half wants to gather us up and put us in protective custody.” Michel gave a dramatic shudder. “I don’t know which one scares me the most.”

  “No shit,” Lian agreed with an answering shudder. “It’s going to get even worse when they discover two of them were killed when they tried to get ahold of Ashe’s baby.”

  Michel scowled. “They attacked us.”

  “You’re the supposed expert on humans, dude,” Lian reminded his friend. “You know they won’t care that we were only protecting ourselves.”

  “True.” His hand curled into a fist on top of the bar, a sudden heat blasting from his body. “For now, we’re terrifying monsters who’ve stepped straight out of their horror stories.”<
br />
  “Exactly. They don’t need a reason to want us dead.”

  There was a brief silence as they considered the potential clusterfuck that waited for them, then Michel gave a shake of his head.

  “Okay, I get that things are tense, but Raphael can’t expect us to cower in the Wildlands forever?”

  Lian shrugged. “I’m guessing it’s temporary, but right now our leader is a little—”

  “Ape-shit crazy?” Michel helpfully supplied.

  Lian gave a sharp bark of laughter. Raphael was always aggressive. Now he was downright…well, ape-shit crazy was the perfect description.

  “Yeah, that about sums it up,” he wryly admitted. “I don’t blame him. Not only is he a new father to a baby who carries the fate of the Pantera on her tiny shoulders, but we have a half-dozen Pantera traitors we have to deal with, and a powerful deity who might awaken any second and continue her evil plot to destroy us.”

  “Fair enough.” Michel poured himself another shot of whiskey. “Has anyone come up with any bright ideas of how to kill the bitch?”

  Lian swallowed a sigh.

  No one wanted the bitch goddess dead more than he did, but he wasn’t happy with his current assignment.

  He was supposed to be a Hunter, not a damned babysitter.

  “The Geeks are studying the ancient scrolls,” he muttered.

  Michel arched a brow. “Isn’t that a little old-school for them?”

  “Desperate times, mon ami.”

  “You can say that shit again. Did they find anything that can help?”

  “Not really, but they did locate a few scrolls that’d been stashed at the bottom of the original receptacle,” he said. The receptacle was an ornately carved chest that had been discovered in the back of the caverns. It was believed that it had belonged to Opela. Most of the writings contained a history of the Pantera, along with the laws that still governed their people. “They hope the hidden texts will reveal how Opela stopped her insane sister the first time.”

  “Why do they only hope?” Michel demanded. “Can’t they tell?”

  Lian folded his arms on the bar, his muscles bulging beneath the T-shirt.

  “They’re written in an ancient script,” he explained. “The Geeks haven’t been able to translate them yet.”

  Michel rolled his eyes. Lian didn’t blame his friend. Like their current streak of bad luck wasn’t enough. Now the scrolls they needed had to be written in some weird chicken scratches?

  “So we’re fucked?”

  “Maybe not.” Lian once again lowered his voice. “Xavier asked me to fetch some scholar who specializes in obscure languages and bring him to the Wildlands.”

  Michel blinked, looking exactly like Lian had felt when Xavier had approached him.

  Baffled. And dubious.

  Extremely dubious.

  “How would a human be able to translate the words of a Pantera goddess?”

  “He was trying to explain the tedious methods of philogy—”

  “Of what?”

  “Some fancy way of saying someone who studies languages.”

  Michel grimaced. “Christ.”

  Lian nodded in agreement. There was nothing like a Geek to make you feel like an idiot.

  “Exactly. It all sounded like blah, blah, blah after a while. Still, if this scholar can help then I’ll track him down and bring him back.”

  Michel remained confused. “Why do you have to track him down? Can’t Xavier just invite him to come to the Wildlands? It’s not like we’re flying under the radar anymore.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? Lian suppressed the tiny frisson of unease. He was trying to ignore the looming human confrontation. Right now he had more pressing troubles to deal with. One disaster at a time, thank you very fucking much.

  “Supposedly this researcher is some sort of hermit who never leaves his home,” he told his companion. “Xavier didn’t even have a name beyond GoliardRetro.”

  “What kind of name is that?” Michel demanded.

  “Some nerdy screen name thing,” Lian said. In all honesty he wasn’t interested in the language professor. His job was getting the man to the Wildlands as quickly as possible. The Geeks would take it from there. “Xavier managed to trace the computer to a general location in the northwest corner of the state. I’m going in to find him and convince him to join us here.”

  “And if he doesn’t want to come?”

  A smile of anticipation curled Lian’s lips, the song on the jukebox appropriately changing to Eye of the Tiger.

  Or in this case…puma.

  “I can be very persuasive.”

  Michel narrowed his gaze, studying Lian with an oddly curious expression.

  “Why you?” he abruptly asked.

  Lian blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Michel leaned an elbow on the bar, his steady gaze never wavering from Lian.

  “Why did Raphael choose you to go get this scholar?” he pressed. Michel might look like a Hunter, but he was a perfect Suit. He had the insatiable curiosity of a trained spy. Every stone had to be turned over before he was satisfied. “There are Hunters in Bossier City.”

  Lian glanced toward the window, half expecting to see a member of his extended family standing at the edge of the bayou, waiting to walk him home.

  “Because I told him if I had to spend another day in my house I was going to shove my head in a wood chipper,” he admitted in rueful tones.

  Michel gave a sudden laugh. “That bad?”

  Bad? Lian rolled his eyes. He could barely breathe when he was forced to spend more than a few hours in his childhood home.

  “I have an entire family of Nurturers who are constantly looking for someone to smother,” he said, his expression one of disgust. No one loved their family more than he did, but yeesh. A full-grown male didn’t like to feel as if he was still in the nursery. “I swear to the goddess, I can’t step out of my private rooms without one of them trying to brush my hair or slap a band-aid on one of my boo-boos, or shove a cookie down my throat.” He shook his head. “Yesterday I twisted my ankle during a training session with Parish and my mother threatened to tie me to my bed if I didn’t spend the afternoon resting.”

  “Awww.” Michel smiled with mocking amusement. “It’s sweet.”

  “It’s…humiliating,” Lian muttered. “If I don’t get away I’m going to lose my fucking mind.” Rolling his shoulders, Lian slid off the stool. “Speaking of which, I need to get on the road.”

  Michel stood, his expression somber as he placed a hand on Lian’s shoulder.

  “Take care, mon ami. These are dangerous times for a Pantera to be on his own.”

  Lian nodded. “Always.”

  * * *

  The pretty cottage situated several miles south of Shreveport was built well away from the dirt path and hidden behind a tall hedge. And if that wasn’t enough to discourage unwanted visitors, there were a number of nasty traps hidden around the property.

  After all, a young woman living on her own couldn’t be too careful, Dr. Sage Parker had always assured herself. And if that made her seem antisocial, well…so be it.

  She had her work.

  Not only as a researcher, but she taught online classes for a local college.

  It was all she needed.

  At least, that’s all she would admit to needing.

  If she spent her nights lying awake, a restless need that she didn’t entirely understand plaguing her body, she wasn’t going to admit it.

  Not even to herself.

  Finishing her breakfast, Sage left the sun-filled kitchen to enter the main room of the cottage that her father had transformed into a library.

  The walls were hidden behind floor-to-ceiling shelves that held her rare collection of leather-bound books. In the center of the room was a long, glass case that held fragile texts that needed constant temperature control. And in the far corner was a small desk nearly hidden beneath the crates of books that had arrived during the past wee
k.

  Sage halted to pull her pale, silvery blonde hair into a lopsided ponytail. As usual, she’d forgotten to comb it when she’d climbed out of the shower. Not that it mattered. There was no one to notice if her hair was tangled, or her delicate features that were dominated by large grey eyes were bare of makeup, or her tall, slender body was covered in a pair of yoga pants and faded Harvard University sweatshirt.

  Her mother had complained that she had too much of her father in her.

  He’d been a history professor who’d been little more than a shadowy figure to Sage. More often than not he was off on some archeological dig. And when he was home, he spent his days locked in the library instead of devoting any quality bonding time to his only child.

  Her mother, on the other hand, had been a local midwife who’d dabbled in voodoo. She’d been determined to have her daughter follow in her footsteps, but Sage had adamantly refused.

  Okay, maybe she had some weird…abilities.

  But she’d rather be labeled an eccentric scholar, than a witch.

  Especially now that both her parents were dead.

  With her hair out of her face, Sage reached for the box of protective gloves she always used when handling her books only to drop them on the worn carpeting when the sound of a startled male cry echoed through the air.

  An intruder.

  Holy…crap.

  Instinctively moving to grab the silver letter opener off her desk, Sage headed out of the library and into her parents’ bedroom that she’d converted into a storage area for her overflow of books.

  It didn’t occur to her to call 911. It would take the cops a half hour to get to her place. If they even bothered to come. Her mother had placed a curse on the local chief of police when he’d cheated on his wife. He’d laughed at first, then he’d broken out in painful boils. He still held a grudge.

  The putz.

  Pushing open the door, she tentatively stepped into the room.

  At first she could see nothing through the gloom.

  She kept the curtains closed to guard her books against the sun. Now she had to strain to catch sight of the intruder who was struggling against the net that had fallen over him the minute he’d forced open the French doors and stepped into the room.