by Marla Monroe
Midnight, New Orleans Style 5
Their Mate’s Redemption
When five college friends reunite, one night changes their lives forever.
Struggling with guilt, Shayla learns that true love can set you free, but it sometimes comes with a price. Gaston and Beau learn that claiming their mate might cost them their pride.
Beau and Gaston struggle to protect their mate while trying to understand what is happening with their enemies. When it becomes obvious that demons are behind their latest trouble, they know that the trouble wasn’t from within the pride, but from outside.
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/ Quatre, Paranormal, Shape Shifter
Length: 45,552 words
THEIR MATE’S REDEMPTION
Midnight, New Orleans Style 5
Marla Monroe
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
THEIR MATE’S REDEMPTION
Copyright © 2014 by Marla Monroe
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-443-4
First E-book Publication: October 2014
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
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DEDICATION
I must say thank you to the fabulous authors who allowed me to join them in writing this series. I had a wonderful time and made four great friends in the process. Corinne Davies, Karen Mercury, Alicia White and Tara Rose, thank you all for the amazing ride!
I also want to say thank you to our amazing publisher who has always given me honest feedback and took a huge chance on me when I had nothing out there. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. This is my 67th book with Siren and I can’t wait to see it grow! Thank you, D! You are amazing to me.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
About the Author
THEIR MATE’S REDEMPTION
Midnight, New Orleans Style 5
MARLA MONROE
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
“What the hell?” Shayla Marino shook her head when Dani called out that they’d missed their stop.
“It’s okay,” said Erin. “We’ll get off at the next one and walk back. Come on.”
They all stood up on the streetcar and slowly made their way toward the front where the driver’s unconcerned expression let her know he’d dealt with this often. She couldn’t believe they were about to step off the streetcar in the middle of the night to walk unescorted along the New Orleans streets.
For someone who spent her life sequestered in her little three-bedroom house outside of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, the idea of walking alone at night in a place like New Orleans was just asking for trouble. Sure there were six of them, but she’d heard so many horror stories about gangs and thugs that she didn’t think six mostly plastered women could handle a horde of thieves and rapists intent on doing bad things to them.
The farther they walked from the gaiety and frivolity that made the French Quarter the party place it was, the more Shayla began to worry. Without the lights from the various establishments open to the crowds, the waxing moon was their only illumination as they walked.
“You’d think there would be more people here on the night before Halloween,” she said as they skirted along a tall cement wall.
Where is the gate for the place? Why is it so quiet?
She didn’t want to say anything to the others to let them know how scared she was. It had been a long time since she’d been the fearless young adult who’d charged into the women’s dorms at Ole Miss in Oxford, Mississippi intent on conquering college life. A lot of water had passed under that bridge since then. She was thirty-four years old now and hopefully a bit wiser, though seeing as how she was following her old college friends outside of a cemetery in the middle of the night in a deserted part of New Orleans, she was beginning to wonder about that part.
“There it is,” one of her friends pointed out.
The iron gate loomed right in front of them, an hourglass with wings centered on it as if warning those who could still see in the mortal realm that time was running out or that it stopped for no one, no matter who you were. It made her shiver. The others spoke their thoughts on the meaning out loud, and any one of them could be right. Maybe they were all right.
Heidi said, “I’ve got to pee. Don’t go anywhere.”
Shayla wanted to stop her, but her friend had already walked throug
h the gate to disappear between some above-ground vaults with crumbling bricks. She turned to suggest to the others that they stick close together but found herself completely alone. Where was everyone? They’d been right next to her. She’d only looked off to follow Heidi as she slipped past the gate. When she turned back around, the gate stood wide open as if someone had pushed it when they walked through.
I’m losing my mind. I was just staring at it, and it was nearly closed.
When she walked up to the rusty gate to shove it back into place, it creaked as if it hadn’t seen an oil can in decades. Cold chills ran down her spine like a rush of ice water. Why hadn’t she heard it when it opened wide? The others had to be playing jokes on her. She turned in a circle but couldn’t see anything past the group of vaults in front of her. There was no sign of Heidi or the others. Shayla opened her mouth to call out, but stopped before a sound could leave her mouth. If she called out, it would alert anyone else out there where she was and that she was alone. No, better to be cautious and alone than stupid and surrounded by crazies.
She started walking along the lane and prayed she reached the rest of them soon. This was beginning to remind her of things she really wanted to forget—a memory best left buried beneath layers of self-preservation lest it take the rest of her sanity with it.
Something moved ahead of her at the edge of one of the crypts. She froze. It had been much too low to the ground to be human, but too large to be a cat or even a large dog. What was out there with them? She turned, thinking she’d just head back to the gate, but when she did, it was to find that she couldn’t see anything behind her anymore. It was as if a black curtain had closed, separating her from where she’d come. The idea of walking back in that direction had her chest constricting to the point of pain.
Shayla jerked back around to stare ahead of her, fully expecting not to be able to see in that direction now either, but the pathway ahead appeared brighter than before. As she took a step in that direction, the light seemed to move, almost dancing over the tombs and crypts towering over her on either side.
“Heidi? Erin?” No one answered.
In fact, the cemetery was eerily silent. Not even the sound of the wind could be heard, though she saw the evidence of it in the blowing ribbons on wreaths and pots of flowers. Taking a step, she felt the crunch of the gravel beneath her feet, but nothing made a noise. Fear unlike anything she’d ever felt before crawled inside her and began wreaking havoc on her stomach. Every beat of her heart seemed to push it higher in her throat.
She’d always believed Lissette when she’d talked about Voodoo, Vodun, and Santeria. Each was a different practice, mixing all sorts of forms of witchcraft and religion. One thing Shayla respected was the powers of belief. You didn’t have to be a practitioner in any of the arts to experience them if you believed. There was power in belief. If not for her, Heidi, Erin, Danni, and Faina, her friend would still be alive. Shayla believed that with all of her heart. They’d been a part of her death as surely as the one or ones who’d killed her all those years ago.
Something moved in her peripheral vision. Shayla jerked around, but whatever it had been, it was gone now. She continued walking, slower than before. She looked from side to side as she passed each vault, praying nothing hid beside them to jump out at her as she did. If she died here before she’d even had a chance to pay her respects to the high priestess who Lissette had held in such high regard, the entire trip would have been for nothing. Shayla desperately wanted to atone for her part in Lissette’s death.
Originally she’d planned to find the store where Lissette had gotten her gris-gris so she could talk to the owner about how to earn her friend’s forgiveness. She wanted Lissette to know she was sorry so that maybe she could forgive herself. But when they’d found out about the tomb of Marie Laveau, it had seemed like a sign and the perfect way to pay their respects and tell their friend they were sorry.
Why had they convinced her not to wear the gris-gris that night? They’d told her it was too valuable to her and where they were going, it might get stolen.
The bar they were going to was in a bad part of town, though the people who were going to be there were ritzy, influential ones who would have looked down on them for it. In truth, they hadn’t wanted people to see it and ask questions. It didn’t smell exactly, but it did have an odd odor, and if anyone asked Lissette about it, she got all mysterious and explained what it was for. They’d wanted to avoid that where they were going. And it had cost their friend her life.
For years after that, Shayla had struggled with the guilt. Then when she’d been attacked…
I’m not going there.
Something slammed to the ground in front of her, stopping her dead in her tracks. Before she could make sense of it, the thing got up and ran back between the vaults, disappearing before her eyes. Another larger shape raced past her, nearly knocking her over in the process.
What the hell? That looked like a panther! A freaking huge panther, but a panther. How much did I drink tonight?
There was no way she could leave the others out there with huge panthers running around. She had to find them. Without letting her good sense step in to stop her, Shayla slipped between the vaults and followed the panther, praying she wasn’t about to get eaten for her foolishness.
As she reached the end of a row of vaults, Shayla felt as if she were running through warm molasses for a split second before she almost popped out into the middle of what she could only describe as something right out of a horror movie. An epic battle raged on in front of her, the noise almost deafening between the growls, snarls, and loud chanting that filled the previously silent night around her.
She’d been right. The massive things she’d seen earlier had been enormous panthers that were now fighting what looked like demon spawn, complete with red glowing eyes and grotesque bodies. The stench of sulfur and rotting flesh nearly made her gag, but it was the blood that flowed freely as every paranormal creature she’d never believed in and a few she’d never heard of fought as if the plight of the world rested on their shoulders. Perhaps it did.
Spirits, or were they ghosts, floated or zipped from headstone to vault, occasionally reaching out to touch one of the fighters, visibly shaking or startling their targets. Sometimes it was all it took to give the other creature the opening it needed to dominate the fight.
Something that looked like a cross between a swamp monster and Sasquatch raced across the cemetery to crash into a demon who was about to end the life of the vampire it had managed to pin to one of the many vaults. Between the two of them, they were able to beat back the red-eyed demon so that it disappeared in a black puff of smoke.
When she continued to scan the area for her friends, her mouth fell open in shock as what could only be zombies shuffled out from behind one of the larger vaults with someone behind them who appeared to be directing them. The woman’s eyes glowed a weird green and her skin appeared ashen. She moved as if she were floating, and once the zombies had moved from her sight, Shayla gasped. She was floating. There was nothing between her bare feet and the ground.
Terror burned a path to her stomach until she was afraid she’d be sick. Where were her friends? Had they already been harmed or killed? She had to find them, but the goblin that ran from behind her cackled as he raced by.
“Bad, bad idea, mortal.” Had that been his voice? It seemed to have been directly in her mind.
Mortal? Oh, God. That means I can be killed. There was no way to tell who was on what side or even who was winning. All she needed to worry about was where her friends were, but finding them in this would not only be impossible, but probably suicide as well.
What looked to be a vampire raced past her, but before she could turn to check where he had gone, a nasty-looking demon hissed in her direction before racing toward her. Shayla didn’t waste her breath screaming. It hadn’t helped her before—it sure wouldn’t help her in this. With everything going on around her, she doubted it would e
ven be heard over the fierce battle cries of the various creatures locked in mortal combat.
Instead, Shayla did what any self-respecting coward would do—she ran. At any second she expected to feel the demon’s razor-sharp claws raking down her back, but they never came. When she looked over her shoulder, it was to find that one of the panthers had attacked the demon pursuing her. Even as she watched, another demon appeared, pulling the panther free of the first one and throwing it into one of the massive stone vaults. When it dropped to the ground, it didn’t get back up. The demon stalked toward the panther, a killing glint in his insane red eyes.
Shayla roared in anger that the creature would attack the panther while it was unconscious. It had saved her, and she couldn’t allow it to die because of her. As it reached the fallen panther, Shayla screamed in fury and launched herself at it, landing on his back when he bent over to grab the unconscious animal.
Holy hell, it stank, and its skin was like tree bark, scraping her arms as she wrapped them around its neck in a feeble attempt to choke it to death. That was so not happening. The thing’s neck was thick as a four-wheeler tire, and the demon probably didn’t even have to breathe in the first place.
It dropped the panther, though, and swung around and around in an effort to dislodge her from its back. She held on despite the pain to her hands and arms. If she let go or was slung free of the thing’s back, it would crush her in an instant. She hadn’t counted on it bashing her against one of the crypts by ramming itself backward over and over.
