Talon/Xavier (Bayou Heat)

by Laura Wright

  His eyes scanned the square, the diners, dancers, even a small group of shifted Pantera, who were sport fighting a yard or two away from the band. Where are you, Female? I hear your laughter. He didn’t like that the male Hunter had caused such a reaction in her—had caused that beautiful face to break into the most infectious fucking smile in the world. No one should be making her laugh. No one, but—

  Before he could finish with ‘but me’ the music changed. From rocking bluegrass to a slow, Cajun waltz. As if the calming sound brought on another level of clarity to his vision, Xavier turned to see the pair at one of the small tables set apart from the others. They were standing up, their plates cleaned, and were heading for the dance floor. His hand clasping hers, the Hunter male led Amalie into the small crowd of couples and took her in his arms.

  Xavier’s body went rigid.

  Sure, she deserved this night. And yes, she should have some fun. But why did it have to be with this male? This male who seemed like a decent guy, not like that slobbering dog back at The Cougar’s Den. This male who acted respectful, and looked at her like he genuinely wanted to pursue something after tonight.

  Amalie could actually like this male, he thought with a twist to his gut.

  Shit, Aristide could like this male.

  Without weighing the rights or wrongs of his actions, Xavier abandoned the shadows of the produce stand and headed toward the dance floor. He didn’t want to be a prick. Didn’t want to be a pushy bastard who claimed something he had no right to claim. But the desire to take Amalie from Hiss’s arms was too strong to fight against.

  Eyes pinned to them, Xavier moved easily and swiftly through the crowd. The song ended, and Hiss and Amalie were just stopping to clap when Xavier came up beside them.

  “Mind if I cut in?” he said in the most forced polite voice in the world.

  With a soft gasp, Amalie turned to look at him. Her eyes widened and she shook her head as if to say, ‘Are you crazy?’ He probably was, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  Hiss, however, grinned broadly. “Good to see you here, X. No one should be working tonight.” Then he turned to Amalie. “I’ll get us a couple of drinks, okay?”

  “Thanks, Hiss,” she said sweetly. But the moment the Hunter was out of earshot, she whirled on Xavier and spat out, “What are you doing here? Spying on me?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked momentarily stunned by his honesty.

  His eyes moved over her face and he closed the distance between them. “You look beautiful tonight.” His arms went around her, and he started to move to the music. “Hot.”

  All the tension left her body and her face split into the most incredible smile he’d ever seen. “Thank you.”

  One dark eyebrow lifted as he amended, “Too hot.”

  Her mouth quirked. “Bastard.”

  He smiled and eased her closer. Her warm, soft skin beneath his palms, her gentle weight. She felt like heaven in his arms. And the scent of her mixed with the scent of purple water lily was acting like a drug on his control. Xavier’s skin hummed with awareness, and in that moment there was nothing he wanted more than to pull her away from the crowd, ease her into the shadows where he’d once stood looking for her, and remove her pretty dress with his teeth.

  Blood surged into his cock, making him hard.

  No. Fuck, no. His mind was playing tricks. He couldn’t have her. Not tonight. Not any night. But then again, neither could Hiss. He couldn’t allow that either. No matter how nice and respectful the male was, no one else was going to touch her. He wouldn’t allow it. Neither would his puma. A growl formed in his throat. The water lily’s scent was capturing him, surely. What else could be the reason for these possessive thoughts?

  “Come with me,” he ordered, taking her by the hand and leading her off the dance floor.

  “Talk about déjà vu,” she said dryly. “Where are you going, Xavier? Hiss is coming back.”

  Ignoring her question, Xavier eased her into the shadows of the produce stand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hiss, drinks in hand, searching the dance floor.

  She isn’t yours. Not now. Never ever.

  Curling her around him, pressing her back to the faded-white walls of the stand, Xavier coiled over her and inhaled deeply.

  Amalie stared up at him, her breathing labored. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Wrong? He nearly laughed. Shit, he was out of his mind. Drugged. Had to be. “I want to leave.”

  Irritation flashed in her green eyes and she made a move to get past him. “Then go.”

  But he placed a hand on either side of her and shook his head. “I want you to come with me.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “You got your touch,” he whispered. “Your flirting. Your date.”

  “It’s not enough. It’s nothing. I want more.”

  A snarl escaped his throat and he leaned in close to her face, almost until they were nose to nose. “That Hunter touches you again and I’ll hurt him.”

  Amalie growled at him and tried to back up, but there was nothing but wall. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I’m protecting you.”

  “From what? From Hiss? He’s a good male.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Then from what? Being held? Kissed? Those are normal things, Xavier.”

  His puma scratched to break free, and he nuzzled her nose with his own. “Dammit, Amalie.”

  “Come on, Xavier. Don’t do this to me,” she uttered, her tone pained. “Don’t hold me, block me. It’s not fair. Especially coming from you. Do you really expect me to go through life alone? Without being kissed? Staying a virgin—”

  She never finished her thought. The word—no, the image—drove Xavier and his puma over the fucking edge. With a snarl of possession, he slid his thigh between her legs and covered her mouth with his own, kissing her long and hard and deep.

  Oh, fuck, the taste.

  Xavier’s mind exploded into tiny fragments of desire. The taste of her was beyond what he’d ever imagined. Sweet and hot and liquid, and hungry. Fuck, so hungry. And he wanted to consume her. Fill his body with hers.

  Her arms went around his neck and she moaned into his mouth. The sound went straight to his dick, and he nipped at her, suckled her lower lip, then kissed her passionately once again. Oh Christ, this was it. She was perfect. His perfect. The way she moved, touched him, molded to him—wanted him. He’d never be able to go back from here. He’d felt her and tasted her now. Her heat and her desire belonged to him. How could he ever let another soul get close to her again?

  And then her hands moved down to his shoulders and his back, her nails digging into his skin as her teeth bit at his tongue, and he lost all control. All that remained in the darkness, in the shadows, were two desperate, ravenous puma shifters. Groaning her name, Xavier crushed her against him, ravaged her mouth, pressed his thigh up harder against her sex, feeling the wet heat of her pussy. He wanted inside her, belonged inside her. He wanted to take her—lift up her dress, rip off her panties and fuck her right there. He didn’t care who saw them. In fact, in that moment, he wanted spectators. Wanted every last Pantera male to know who Amalie belonged to.

  The thought killed him. Stopped him.

  As did the look in her drowsy, sex-hazed eyes when he eased back from her.

  “Shit,” he whispered so close to her mouth their breath co-mingled.

  She swallowed, her eyes trying to focus. “Xavier.”

  His name on her lips had Xavier’s cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. His eyes cut left, past her ear. Hiss was still searching, irritation and concern playing about his features. “I’m so sorry, Amalie.”

  “Don’t say that,” she warned.

  “Oh, fuck, this was a mistake.”

  “Or that.”

  He wanted to let her go, release her, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Though Hiss hadn’t seen them yet, he was drawing closer to where they
hid. A low, terrifying growl erupted from Xavier’s throat, and he knew that if the Hunter male got within a foot of Amalie right now, he might actually attack, maybe even kill him. He was that jacked up—that proprietary. His puma snarled and ripped at his insides, and to save himself, and possibly the Hunter male as well, he allowed it to break free.

  He stumbled back, away from Amalie, and shifted into his cat.

  “Xavier,” she said, her voice threaded with heat.

  He looked at her for one brief moment, saw her anger and hurt, and enduring lust, and let his puma snarl and hiss before turning and stalking away. From the party, the food, the music, the sexually-charged atmosphere.

  And from the female he could never taste again—no matter how desperately he wanted her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Furious and turned-on so badly she just wanted to go to her room and find comfort in her own hand, Mal burst into the house. Poor Hiss. He deserved an amazing female. Not some dope with a relentless crush. The Hunter male was gorgeous and honorable, and more than a few female eyes had covetously followed him around the fete tonight. He could’ve stayed—should’ve stayed—when she’d told him she wanted to go home. But he’d insisted on escorting her.

  While Xavier had left her alone, panting, confused and pissed off.

  Xavier.

  That goddamn male had ruined her. Truly. First when she had fallen in both lust and love for him on that birthday in the bayou, and now tonight, when he’d given her a moment of that fantasy, then ripped it away. No, not just ripped it away, but ripped it into shreds.

  As she slammed the door and started down the hall, the memory of his hands on her, his mouth on her, mingled with his apologies and regrets. Fuck him, she didn’t want it—neither one. Why couldn’t he get that? She wasn’t asking for a future or a promise or a mating. All she wanted was him.

  For him to be her first.

  The sound of running water curbed her emotional and frustrated thoughts momentarily, and instead of heading for her room, she turned down the hall toward the door that led to the outside shower. She knew who was out there, in there. With every step, every shaky breath, her hand curling around the door handle, she warned herself to stop and walk away. Go into your room, take care of yourself and go to sleep.

  But like the cat she was, her hunger for prey—shit, for the prey of a lifetime—could not be quelled. For better or for worse, Xavier was her fantasy, her addiction, and he was in there, nude, wet, steam rising off his thickly muscled body. She had to see it. See him.

  Without another thought, she pulled off her dress, panties and bra, and tossed them to the ground.

  * * *

  His hand wrapped around his cock, Xavier leaned against the rock wall, hot water pummeling his shoulders and back. He was such a fuck. Touching her, tasting her. He had no self-control and no honor. And he couldn’t blame it on the fete or the moon or the purple lilies. That stunning need, that irrepressible want, it still ran through him like a vindictive snake in his blood.

  Groaning, growling, he pumped himself from root to tip, trying like hell to see a blank screen on the lids of his eyes. But it was no use. She was there now. Imprinted. In that dress and out of it. Smiling at him, laughing, biting his lip as her nails dug into the skin of his back.

  Come leaked from the tip of his dick and he ran his fingers over the head. But as he slid his palm back up his shaft, a warm hand suddenly closed around his and squeezed.

  “Releasing some tension?” a female voice whispered seductively.

  Xavier’s head jacked up, his eyes slammed open and he released his hold on his cock. “What the hell, Amalie—”

  She wrapped her hand around his shaft again and uttered, “Don’t move.” Then looked up at him with accusing eyes. “You kissed me tonight.”

  Her hand, hot and soft, held him with such possessive skill. He groaned, “Oh, fuck.”

  “That’s not an answer, an explanation or an apology.” Wearing nothing but a fierce, highly sexual smile, she tightened her grip on his cock.

  Christ, he wanted to move, wanted to thrust into her hot, little palm. “It was a mistake, Amalie,” he ground out, his heart slamming against his ribs.

  “Maybe.” She snarled softly. “Probably. But it happened, and I can’t forget it. Can you?”

  His cock turned to steel in her hand.

  Feeling what she did to him—what just her words did to him—she grinned and started to stroke him. “I didn’t think so.”

  Cursing inwardly, Xavier stared at her, his nostrils flaring with each breath he dragged into his lungs. Steam raged around them, but it did nothing to mask her nude body. Her insanely hot nude body. He’d imagined, fantasized about what she’d look like under her clothes, standing before him, stretched out on his bed, her arms above her head. But it was nothing to the reality. She was perfection. Her legs were long and tight with muscle, her small waist flared upward to strong, toned arms and luscious shoulders. But it was her chest, her large, heavy breasts that made his mouth water and his hands fist in anticipation.

  “Why did you come home early, Amalie?” he said hoarsely, his gaze flipping up to meet hers.

  Beautiful dark green eyes flared with emerald heat. “I got tired of playing games. Pretending. It wasn’t fair to Hiss.”

  “Hiss.” His eyes narrowed. “Did the Hunter male touch you?”

  Her tongue darted out to swipe at her bottom lip. “The only one who touched me tonight was you, Xavier.” She reached down with her other hand and cupped his heavy sack, rolled his balls between her fingers. “And it wasn’t enough. In fact, it was a goddamn tease.”

  The muscles in his abdomen tensed and he groaned. “Fuck…You’re going to make me come.”

  “Good.” She drew closer to him, under the hot spray, her strokes to his shaft growing faster, tighter. “Tell me.”

  “What?” His body flexed in anticipation of climax, and he had to do everything in his power not to grab her hips and ram her up against the stone wall, fuck her blind—fuck her blissful.

  “Tell me why you didn’t want me with him,” she said, her words a whispered demand.

  He pinned her with a predatory stare and growled out, “I don’t want you with anyone.”

  She leaned even closer, pumping him off as she brushed her pebbled nipples against his chest. “Why? Tell me why.”

  “No one’s good enough for you, Amalie,” he rasped, his cock growing harder, thicker.

  “Not even you?”

  He cursed and thrust himself into her fist. “Especially not me.”

  “That’s bullshit,” she said before dipping her head to his chest. “And you know it. Christ, you’d better know it.”

  She didn’t say another word. Her mouth closed around his nipple, and as she stroked him, played with him, she sucked and scraped her teeth across his flesh.

  Xavier was lost to what he knew to be right and wrong. What he believed she deserved. She had taken him over. She owned him. And there was no going back. He bucked, ground his hips, pistoning his cock into her soft, wicked hand as she stroked him fast. His balls tightened, filled with come, and he growled her name. His hips jerked, and hot seed burst from the head of his dick. As he came all over her hands and belly, she bit down lightly on his nipple, causing him to groan and curse, and utter her name. Over and over.

  It took him only seconds to come awake, even with climax still shuddering through him. Hunger and need like he’d never known assaulted his mind and he had to have her or he was going to lose it. Snarling, his puma just millimeters below his skin, Xavier wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her up, set her back against the shower wall, safe from the heavy spray.

  “You just unlocked the puma’s cage, Amalie,” he said, his eyes pinned on her, his voice a dangerous, deep purr. “And he’s hungry.”

  * * *

  Mal felt a delicious unease move through her as Xavier lowered to one knee before her. She might be a virgin, but she was no innocent.
She was Pantera, and the ways of mating were not hidden behind a curtain of immoral shame. They were offered as a way to connect, to love, to allow the puma a chance to feel human touch, and the human self a way to react with animal-like hunger. More than once, she’d come across couples in the forest, kissing, touching, even fucking, as she’d been on patrol. Normally, she’d left them to it, darted off in the opposite direction. But there had been a few times she’d stopped to watch. Hidden behind a tree, her heart pounding, her sex growing tight and wet as she observed what she’d wanted so badly.

  What she’d saved for the male on his knees before her.

  Xavier’s ice-blue eyes drifted up her belly, to her ribs and breasts. He watched as her nipples beaded, as her chest rose and fell quickly with her excited breathing. She knew what he intended to do to her, where his mouth would go—his tongue—and as his hands wrapped around her ankles and raked upward, she moaned with anticipation.

  Steam continued to rise and coil around them, protecting the moment. Xavier’s eyes connected with hers then and she felt that hungry, fierce stare deep inside her sex. The greedy, eager muscles clenched, and her thighs trembled. She had to fist her hands to keep them from grabbing the back of his head and slamming his face into her pussy.

  “So beautiful,” he rumbled, looking at her. “Beautiful, beautiful Amalie.”

  Her heart squeezed with his words. He had no idea, no clue how long she’d waited to hear him talk to her that way. With both tenderness and sexual desire. It ripped her open, left her vulnerable, and she whimpered.

  “Shh,” he whispered, his hands lightly grazing her inner thighs as he trailed upward to her sex. When he reached her mound, he gently spread her lips wide and released a sensual groan. “Beautiful Amalie has a beautiful cunt.”

  It was as if Mal lost all brain function after that. As he dipped his head, ran his tongue from her opening up to her clit, she became one trembling, bundle of nerves. The feeling was too good, too overwhelmingly perfect to contain. Bracing her hands on either side of the shower walls, she watched him, his dark head between her thighs, his tongue lightly flicking over her clit. Groans escaped him, and he eased one finger inside her.