Lian/Roch (Bayou Heat)

by Alexandra Ivy

  He turned to his plate and picked up his fork. “She needs more than food to keep her healthy and well. She needs sleep.”

  “Well, she wouldn’t get that at Medical,” Ashe replied, offering him some bread.

  “There are other options.”

  “Like what? Your place?”

  Lydia’s heart sprang into her throat. She didn’t want to hear his answer to that. Yes or no. Either option concerned her. “I’m happy here,” she stated quickly, resolutely. “And I love being around that cutie-pie over there.”

  Roch glanced at the sleeping baby. “She’s getting big.”

  Ashe nearly melted with motherly happiness. “She is.”

  “And she looks like you, Ashe. Which is lucky for her.”

  Raphael glanced up from his nearly consumed lasagna and gave his friend a good-natured growl.

  Popping a piece of garlic bread in her mouth, Ashe turned to Lydia. “So, is your family from New Orleans?”

  “They are. Were. They’re gone now. My mom passed away a few months back.”

  Ashe’s expression fell into a lovely mask of empathy. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.” She touched her belly, which now sported just the very beginnings of a rise. “I’m excited for new family to come into my life.”

  Ashe nodded. “Of course you are.”

  “What do you do for work, Lydia?” Raphael asked her.

  “I’m a lawyer. Or was a lawyer.”

  Roch looked up from his plate. “What do you mean?”

  “I was fired,” she explained, feeling slightly embarrassed and still pretty pissed. “Lawyers don’t have a lot of time to be mothers. Or so my bosses believe.”

  “Well, that’s bullshit,” Ashe exclaimed, then quickly turned to Soyala. “Sorry, honey. Mommy’s a little upset about the issue of double standards.”

  “I’m actually thinking I’ll go into solo practice,” Lydia said after taking a sip of water. “Maybe a little office near where I live.”

  “In New Orleans,” Roch said. It wasn’t a question and his tone was anything but pleased. In fact it sounded pained.

  “Of course, New Orleans,” Ashe said, giving him an impatient look. “That’s where she’s from.”

  Roch’s jaw tightened and he stabbed at a chunk of lasagna with his fork.

  “Obviously there’s a lot to consider,” Lydia said, feeling the wave of tension in the air. It was the last thing she wanted to bring into Ashe and Raphael’s home. “But if this baby is half Pantera, I would never cut the Wildlands or his species out of his life—”

  “His?” Roch interrupted, his eyes cutting to her. They were a dark and stormy blue. “It’s a male cub? How do you know?”

  “I don’t,” she said, flustered by his quick passion. “I’m not sure why I said that.”

  “And there’s no if, by the way,” he added softly.

  “What?” Her heart stalled and she looked around the room.

  Roch glared at Raphael. “You didn’t tell her?”

  “Not officially,” he uttered, uncomfortable.

  “Oh, Raphael,” Ashe scolded gently.

  “I was easing my way into it.”

  Lydia was barely listening to them. Her heart was flickering hard in her chest, and her appetite was gone. “The tests are back? You know for certain…”

  Raphael nodded. “Yes.”

  “Oh,” she exclaimed. Her child was part Pantera. Her child would be a member of this tribe. It would be able to shift into a cat form like Roch. Her throat tightened. A beautiful, powerful, remarkable cat, who might someday want to live here. Away from me.

  “Lydia, if I may,” Raphael began gently. “How do you feel about the father having a relationship with the cub? If we can find him, of course. If you decide that you want the testing…”

  “Do we need to talk about this now?” Roch put in darkly. He’d abandoned his food as well, and his eyes were pinned to Lydia’s face.

  “I don’t know,” she said, her voice reed-thin. “This is a lot to take in and I need to think about it.” She put her napkin on her plate and eased her chair back. “I’m really tired.”

  “Of course you are,” Ashe said with a quick and grim look at Raphael. “I’ll walk you up, make sure you have everything you need.”

  “Thank you.” She wasn’t about to put up a fuss, or act like she could manage on her own. Granted, she probably could. But she kind of wanted Ashe with her. She looked at Raphael. “Good night.”

  “Sleep well, Lydia,” he said gently, his eyes kind.

  Then she glanced down at Roch. She wanted to say something, but she wasn’t sure what. Don’t leave? I need you? To talk to you? Be around you? But she couldn’t form the words. Or she was afraid of them. Vulnerability was a terrifying gift to give another person. But, lord help her, she wanted to give it to him. Like it or not—understand it or not—she had this connection to him that couldn’t be explained or denied. And when their eyes caught and held, she saw in those incredible blue depths the same connection she felt for him mirrored back.

  He gave her a tight smile, but said nothing. And after a moment, Lydia left the table with Ashe and headed upstairs to her room.

  Chapter 6

  The sound of a female’s cries woke him. He stirred against the soft rug on the cold hardwood floor, lifted his head and stared at the woman on the bed. In the glow of the moonlight through the window to her left, he could see that she was sitting up, blond curls perfectly disheveled, tears falling down her cheeks. She’d had a nightmare. He could tell it was still affecting her; she was trembling. The ache to crawl up on the mattress and sit beside her, comfort her, was shockingly strong. But he’d sworn to remain where he was.

  She swiped at her eyes, her tears, sniffed hard and took a breath. She would lie down again and slip back into sleep. He too was about to settle himself when her gaze dropped to the floor and she noticed him.

  For the first time.

  On the rug.

  She screamed, her eyes flaring with shock and terror. Then she quickly covered her mouth, realizing it was him. No, not him.

  His puma.

  Roch scrambled to his feet—all four of them—and shifted into his male form. He hated himself for causing her fear after an obvious nightmare. He only wanted to bring her happiness. Make her feel safe. He went to her, the mattress dipping with his weight, and pulled her into his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her hair. “Christ, I’m sorry.”

  “What are you doing in here?” she whispered back. Still trembling, she clung to him.

  “I don’t know.” But that was a lie. He knew. The need to be close to her, protect her, had driven him to wait outside Raphael and Ashe’s place until the lights had gone out. Then he’d climbed up the side of the house and into her window. He’d known exactly where she was staying because he’d scented her.

  His eyes slammed shut and he cursed silently.

  He’d scented her.

  Just as he had in New Orleans.

  “I can’t seem to walk away from you, Lydia,” he said, his voice gravelly from sleep and from the quick shift. “I have no claim on you, and yet…”

  “Yet what?” she whispered.

  He dug deep for control as he held her. He was wearing the same thing he’d come to dinner in, but she wasn’t. Clad in only a dark green tank top and underwear, she looked soft and sexy as hell, and he wanted her desperately. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and her nipples were hard.

  His mouth watered.

  “I need to touch you,” he uttered impetuously. Before she could answer, he eased back so he could see her. Half of her beautiful face was cast in moonlight. Her eyes were huge and her lips were slightly swollen. He reached out and swiped at one lone and lasting tear near her cheekbone. “Your belly,” he clarified gently. “Can I place my hand there?”

  She looked confused. “Why, Roch?”

  Yeah. Why indeed? “I can’t explain it,” he said
, his eyes pinned to hers. Don’t want to explain. “I just need to. Please.”

  She stared at him for a moment longer, breathing in, breathing out. Then she moved away. At first, Roch thought she was rejecting him. A wordless refusal. And could he blame her? His request was strange at best. But then she laid down, her head on her pillow, her hair fanned around her face, and lifted the tank top to just under her breasts.

  Heat slammed into Roch, and his cock filled with blood. For a moment, he just looked her over. Hungrily, covetously, sweetly. Her incredible body streaked with moonlight. From her sexy toes painted a fiery red, to her long, luscious legs, up to a pair of pretty, almost girlish underwear. White with tiny strawberries. And then there was her belly. Tan and taut with just a hint of a swell.

  Need raged through him. Never had he wanted anything more. He lifted his gaze to meet hers. Clearly, she’d been watching him, and she gave him a gentle, encouraging smile. Christ, what he was doing—was this right?

  “Come here, Roch,” she said. “Lie down next to me. It’s okay.”

  Her words and the warmth in her voice wrapped around him and squeezed. Shit. He’d never met anyone like her. It wasn’t just that she was smart and strong and beautiful. That was amazing in and of itself. But she was also incredibly kind and warm. And he hadn’t known—until that moment—that he truly craved those things. That he’d been missing those things in his life.

  He stretched out beside her, inhaled her clean, floral scent, then laid his hand on her belly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to happen in that moment. A sudden flash of insight, maybe? Or a blood-deep knowing that this woman and her cub belonged to him? But it wasn’t either. Instead, a calming warmth suffused his skin. The kind of warmth that one liked to sit in for hours. A healing warmth. A happy, blissful warmth he’d never known existed. Or cared. Or had searched for.

  She possessed that. In her heart and beneath her smooth skin.

  Not wanting to hold her captive longer than she felt comfortable, or have her know how hard just being this close to her made him, Roch started to pull away. But Lydia covered his hand with hers. For a second he didn’t move. His heart was slamming against his ribs, and every animal-like instinct he possessed wanted to pick her up and take her away. Maybe to his house. His bed. Claim her. Kill anything and everything that tried to get near.

  But when she started slowly dragging his hand down toward her sex, his possessive instincts evaporated, and the desperate desire to mate took their place.

  Lydia stopped when his fingers grazed the top of her strawberry underwear. The warmth from a moment ago—that delicate, gentle state of being—had already expanded into a ball of white-hot need within Roch and he needed to know if she felt it too. If she wanted his touch. Wanted his fingers inside of her? His mouth on her?

  He lifted his gaze, and what he saw in those violet orbs was a depth of desire unlike anything he’d ever witnessed.

  He growled softly at her, and her hand left his and went to his face. As her eyes melted into his, she brushed her fingers down one cheek and over his stubbled jaw. Fuck them. Fuck them all. He didn’t care. At that moment, he didn’t give a shit why he and Lydia were in Raphael and Ashe’s house in the Wildlands—what challenges they faced outside in both their worlds. He just wanted to be with her, make her happy, and hot, and moan.

  He followed the trail she’d set for him, slipping his fingers inside her panties. She lifted her chin and gasped when he cupped her.

  “Oh, Lydia,” he uttered, his skin going tight around his muscles. “You’re bare. Soft.” He ran his thumb over the top of her sex. “I can feel your heat, how wet you are.”

  She licked her lips. “It’s you,” she whispered. “It’s all you.”

  Her words made his heart expand. Whatever this was, between them, he wanted it. That sounded insane given how long they’d known one another. And yet, he was Pantera, and she was here with him in the magical Wildlands.

  He slid one finger through her folds. It was so slick with cream he couldn’t stop himself from entering her pussy. A groan rumbled in his chest and he felt his cock turn steel-hard.

  She pressed herself against him and moaned. “More.”

  Every inch of him rigid with tension and hunger, Roch eased another finger inside her.

  She groaned. “Yes. God, yes.”

  Did he want inside her? Fuck, yes. More than he wanted to live, at that moment. But he wasn’t going there. Not now. Tonight was about her pleasure. He needed to see that. See her body writhe under his care. Hear her cries of climax as he stroked her.

  “Roch,” she uttered, canting her hips, trying to take him deeper.

  “I’m here, Lydia,” he said fiercely, as he deepened his thrusts.

  I’m always going to be here. If you want me to be.

  He pressed the pad of his thumb against her clit and she gasped.

  Want me to be, Lydia. Fuck. Please, want me to be.

  Her eyes closed and she gave herself over to his touch. He didn’t rush her. Hell no. He wanted to watch this incredible display for as long as possible. Watch her hips circle and grind, listen to her breathing change as he neared climax.

  Her nipples were hard points beneath her tank top, scraping against the fabric as her breasts moved, as her breathing grew rapid.

  “Oh, god, Roch,” she cried out softly. “I can’t hold on…”

  “You don’t have to,” he cooed. “Come for me.”

  It was the sweetest hell, watching her, touching her. Wanting to be inside of her. A wave of heat and cream bathed his fingers as he thrust hard and deep inside her. And when she moaned and thrashed her head from side to side against the pillow, he quickened the pace.

  “Come for me, Lydia,” he urged, circling her clit with his thumb.

  “Oh, god,” she rasped, her walls tightening and pulsating against his fingers.

  Roch couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t stop himself. He dropped his head to her breast and suckled her nipple through the thin cotton.

  She cried out, her hips jerking. Come leaked from the tip of Roch’s painfully hard cock, but he could only think of her. He wanted that climax. He owned that climax.

  As his thumb flicked her swollen clit, and his tongue and teeth worked her nipple, he pressed hard against the sensitive spot inside her with the pads of his fingers.

  “Oh, Roch,” she cried out, writhing and moaning, coming apart under him. “Yes…”

  His head swimming and his body roaring with unchecked desire, Roch lifted his head and watched her. Watched her ride each wave of orgasm as she rode his fingers. Watched her lips part and a cry emerge. She was so beautiful, so responsive. And he slowly thrust inside her until those glorious waves receded, until she couldn’t move any more. Until she was so weary, she just stilled, and all he could hear was her rapid breathing.

  Then he eased himself from her body. She looked spent, and for a moment he was worried. Was it all right to have touched her, made her come? Had he hurt her, or gods no-his heart seized-had he hurt the baby?

  “Lydia.” His voice was heavy with tension. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

  Her eyes opened and she blinked several times. Then she found his gaze and gave him the widest, most satisfied smile he’d ever seen. “Hurt me?” she laughed softly. “Roch?”

  “Yes?”

  That smile widened even further. “Hurt me some more?”

  The apprehension left his body in a rush. Leaving only an intense hunger and a worrisome affection.

  She reached for him, grabbed onto the waistband of his pants and tugged. Desire flooded his blood. But he put a hand over hers to stop her.

  “No, Lydia.” His voice was raw with tension. Fuck, he wanted her. Wanted to taste her. Bury himself within her.

  She looked confused, pained. “Why? Don’t you want me?” Her eyes dropped to his pants. “It looks like you want me.”

  “I want you more than I want to breathe or eat or see the sun set over the bayou for
the rest of my life.”

  Her gaze returned to his. “Then…”

  “I can’t. Not yet.” Not until I know who you belong to.

  He hadn’t said the words aloud, but she understood immediately, and her face fell.

  “But I want to stay here with you,” he said. “I need to. My cat and I are in agreement. But I’ll return to the floor.”

  “That’s silly,” she said. “Don’t go. I won’t touch you.”

  “Christ, Lydia.” She had no idea. She really didn’t.

  “I won’t take advantage of you.”

  The teasing thread in her voice made him growl. He should say no. Should just leave the bed and park it on the rug. But he wasn’t that strong. Not where she was concerned.

  He lay back against the pillow and opened his arms to her. She went to him at once. And when he pulled her to him, she draped her thigh over his possessively.

  “You slay me,” he whispered against her hair, feeling well, healthy and strong in his male form for the first time in days.

  “And you make me feel safe.”

  His chest constricted. No one had ever said something like that to him. What was he going to do? How was he going to deal with the truth when it came?

  He heard and felt her yawn and he pulled her even closer. “Sleep now. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He closed his eyes too and tried to calm his breathing. After a few minutes, he thought she was asleep. But then she whispered, “Roch?”

  “Mmm hmm?”

  “Do you think it’s true?”

  Without even a hesitation, he knew what she meant. “That this cub is mine?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know, Lydia.” But I want it to be. Goddess help me, I want it to be.

  When she didn’t say anything in reply, he kissed her hair and stroked her back. And when her breathing evened out, and her limbs grew still, he let his mind go, too. And he followed her into sleep.

  * * *

  Lydia woke to the warmth of the early morning sun on her face and the feeling of a man’s thickly muscled arms around her. As she opened her eyes and took stock of her surroundings, she blushed with pleasure. Most of the bedding was either on the floor or on its way there. She was completely wrapped around Roch’s side and her underwear was still wet.