Stefan: Le Beau Brothers: New Orleans Billionaire Wolf Shifters with plus sized BBW for mates (Le Beau Series Book 3)

by V. A. Dold

  Her sudden inhale pressed her nipples harder against him, an instant before her gaze jerked to his, then dropped to his mouth. A flash of pink tongue on her lips made him miss a step. He hadn’t missed a dance step in decades.

  *****

  What the hell am I doing?

  She hadn’t allowed a man to touch her like this since Chet. And what the hell was up with her out-of-control libido? This man was the epitome of ‘not her type’ and exactly what she had avoided. Yet here she was, pressed against every hard inch of him, and he had a lot of inches. Not a sliver of light to be seen between them. No panic attack in sight...strange.

  Ah, hell. Who was she kidding? She salivated like Pavlov’s dog whenever Stefan walked into a room. She had some serious reevaluation to do once she got home. Was she going to keep fighting her attraction to this big lug, or give in and put her heart on the butcher block?

  The visual of the butcher block stiffened her spine. She would not be that stupid, naive girl again. Problem was, beneath her palms, his heart hammered and his breathing grew harsh. She wanted this sexy man in her bed, like ‘she hadn’t been laid in years,’ wanted him in her bed.

  That ticked her off like nothing else could. What the heck was Pamela telling her when she was under anyway?

  Her hands didn’t want to push him away. No! They wanted to rub all over his solid, manly body. They wanted to grip his incredible shoulders and ride him hard. Stupid hands. To control her urge to throw him to the floor, she dug her fingers into his hair. Perhaps pulled a little too hard out of frustration. Pervert seemed to like it.

  She felt his fingers flexing and kneading her ass. Instant wet panties. Not just everyday wet, frickin’ tsunami wet. She might as well throw in the towel now, because her body sure wasn’t listening.

  Warm breath warmed her earlobe and his leather aftershave enveloped her.

  Lord have mercy, that man smells amazing!

  Dammit! She didn’t act like this.

  There was that warm breath again.

  “I want you, so badly.”

  Hot kisses trailed up and down the side of her neck.

  Ah, hell.

  The song ended with her mind still in a fog. It didn’t even register that she’d been pulled behind the Christmas tree out of the line of sight of most of the room.

  He gently tugged her hair until her gaze met his golden eyes. This was the first time she noticed how long his lashes truly were.

  “I meant what I said,” he whispered in a low, sexy drawl, drawing the pad of his finger down her jaw to her lips.

  What was he doing? They were in the middle of a bar. People might see. She really should stop him. Problem was, her body was no longer taking orders from her brain.

  “Please, give me a chance,” he pleaded.

  Where were her defenses when it came to BR? Dang it! She didn’t want him, did she?

  He held her close behind the tree, waiting for a response of some sort. Her brain was so jumbled, her gray cells had stopped functioning all together.

  Leaning against the wall, she attempted to get a little distance. That and a little support, her knees were about to give out.

  When she didn’t respond, he expelled a frustrated breath. “Maybe we can find a private place to talk.”

  She nodded without speaking and exited the tree to gather her jacket.

  He followed her to the parking lot before he took hold of her arm.

  “Let’s chat in my truck, its warmer.”

  “All right.”

  Stefan started the engine and adjusted the heat.

  El wanted to get this over with quickly; being close to him was too tempting. “So, what’s up? Why are we out here?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. Why do you repeatedly reject me? What’s so repulsive about me? You don’t seem to have a problem with Dale.”

  She opened her mouth to answer, then shook her head. “I…don’t like handsome, wealthy men.”

  Frowning, he cocked his head. “What? Why?”

  “It’s a long story and one I don’t care to tell.”

  “All right, instead of telling me your story, how about you give me a reason or two why handsome, wealthy men are off your list?”

  “Because they’re...unsafe. A threat.”

  He reeled back as if slapped. “Unsafe? I’m wealthy and I’m told I’m handsome, but I’m a lover, not a threat.”

  She nodded. “Exactly. And that’s why you’re a threat.”

  His brows furrowed and arms crossed. “I’m going to need your unique brand of logic explained.”

  “You’re a lover, as you say. A playboy. A man whore. A one night stand heartbreaker. Should I continue?”

  A mischievous sparkle lit his eyes and made them somehow glow.

  “So, you don’t like it when I do this?” He reached across, curled his palm behind her neck and tunneled his fingers into her hair. Slowly he leaned in and breathed warm air across her neck and kissed her behind the ear.

  Breath caught in her throat while butterflies erupted in her stomach.

  “N...n...no,” she stammered.

  “And definitely not this,” he said, trailing warm kisses across her jaw to capture her lips.

  “Yes. That’s ... bad.” It was a good thing she was already sitting. Her legs would have buckled.

  “In that case, this is definitely out of the question.”

  Thrusting his other hand into her hair, he kissed her forcefully, with all the pent up passion he’d held in for the past several days.

  Her head was spinning and she was lost. Utterly lost.

  As he loosened his grip, hers tightened. This was such a bad idea, but there was no controlling the needs and desires of her body anymore. She eased a hand around his neck, and her grip tightened as she took control of the kiss. She poured all her pain and frustration into it. Gasping, she pulled back and settled into her seat. That was a terrible idea.

  Stefan looked dazed, his mind foggy, with what she wasn’t sure. He blinked, and a second later his eyes seemed to clear.

  “Wow!”

  “Yes. We shouldn’t do that again,” she responded.

  “No way! We should definitely do that more often, like all the time.”

  “It was a mistake, a moment of weakness. Now, I need to get inside. Dale will be worried.”

  “No, you don’t. You can’t go back to freezing me out after that.”

  “Pretend it never happened. I know I will. I came here with Dale, and I’m leaving with Dale,” she told him, opening the truck door.

  She had been having a great time tonight before Stefan confused everything. She wanted the happy-go-lucky night back.

  “El,” Stefan slammed the truck door, then took a step toward her, “Please, don’t go.”

  “I’m sorry, Stefan. I’ll admit we have explosive chemistry, but that doesn’t a happy relationship make. Besides, in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never had a relationship. I don’t see that suddenly changing now. Just let it go. You’ll find a new woman to chase tomorrow.”

  El spun on her heel and slipped through the bar door before he could stop her. He was left frustrated and baffled. Both he and his wolf were in a state of slathering hunger for their mate.

  Goddess, please help me!

  He’d watched her around the ranch hands and her grand-mère. Under that prickly exterior was a softhearted woman. Now he just needed to figure out how to get some of that sugar. Stefan smacked his forehead, why hadn’t he thought of it before? He had a mother and two sister-in-laws. Time to pump them for advice.

  *****

  The new moon had arrived. Anna was lighting candles while Emma busily prepared the dais.

  The ritual was surprisingly easy. As the women knelt before the icon of Luperca, John laid face up on the dais.

  Emma and Anna quietly prayed, requesting the wolf goddess to join them and grant John his wolf soul.

  The limbs on the tree above them gently swayed in a breeze
that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Her soft voice was heard before she shimmered into form.

  “Rise, my beloved daughters, and await my new son at home.”

  Anna glanced at Emma, alarm evident in her eyes.

  “It’ll be fine,” Emma whispered encouragingly. “Come, he’ll join us shortly.”

  Once they were alone, the goddess focused on John. “John James, what do you ask of me?”

  “I ask for conversion. I ask for the gift of a wolf’s soul, and I ask to humbly join your family,” he recited.

  “Close your eyes.”

  Wind swirled around John and then suddenly stilled. Something filled his chest, creating a tightness that eased after a moment.

  “You request is granted.”

  One instant he was human and the next a dark-colored wolf lay on the dais.

  “Your chosen father, Cade Le Beau, awaits you beyond those trees. Go, learn the way of my children.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Truck Trouble

  Three Days Later

  It was already late evening when the emergency call came in from Mr. Chauvin. A calf was down with a high temperature and cough. The symptoms sounded like calf diphtheria. Very serious if left untreated. Two hours later, she was finally headed back to her warm, waiting bed.

  El held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip of death as she tried to make it home. Her jaw tightened as another rise loomed in the darkness, illuminated only by her headlights. She’d need more speed to make it up this one. As gently as possible, she added pressure to the gas. Old Patricia was a finicky gal with a squishy gas pedal. Holding her breath, the truck began the ascent.

  Near the crest, Patricia began to protest. Then, as if things weren’t bad enough, the front right tire blew, sending the back end into a swishing fishtail. El tried desperately to regain control of the old Chevy, but she knew she was losing the battle.

  “Oh, shit!”

  The drainage ditch that ran parallel to the road materialized from the darkness in the beams of Patricia’s headlights.

  “Shit, shit, double shit!”

  That ditch was calling her name. Loudly. And it wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  Metal crunched, and the undercarriage screeched as if in pain. This wasn’t going to end well. Her beloved truck came to a sudden halt mere inches from the gator-infested ditch. Thank God she didn’t have airbags or she'd be sporting a broken nose right now. Talk about adding injury to insult. El wasn’t one of those people who fainted at the sight of blood, but gators–she really wasn’t fond of gators. Ever since witnessing her treasured puppy, Scamp, disappear into the jaws of death, at the tender age of six, she hadn’t been a fan.

  With no dash lights to aid her search, she patted the seat for her cell phone. Nothing. It must have landed somewhere on the pitch-black floor.

  Score!

  She snatched the phone and tapped the screen. Nothing. She tapped the screen harder. Zero bars. Evidently beating the cell phone didn’t magically produce more signal bars.

  Great. Just great.

  As she assessed her situation, she noticed aggressive eyes moving toward her truck through the water. Either she got out right now and scrambled to the road, or she was going to be trapped in the truck with no cell phone signal and no help in sight. She chose the road.

  Hands on hips, El scowled at her stalled truck. “Well, hell, Patricia, what did you go and do that for?”

  She grumbled at the truck she’d owned since she first got her driver's license. As if in answer, a loud roll of thunder cracked. It was a heck of a long walk back to the ranch, and lightning lit up the sky like the Fourth of July.

  Chewing her lip, she considered her options.

  Who am I kidding? There are no options. Sighing in resignation, she started walking.

  Ten minutes later, a half mile closer to home, and soaked from pouring rain, she heard a truck engine. Squinting, she saw headlights in the distance coming straight for her.

  “Yes!” El watched as an early model Ford king cab truck slowed to a stop.

  Slowly the window lowered and a man leaned toward her. “Hey, darling, I’m Joe. Is that your truck back a ways? Do you need a ride?”

  She had two options–walk the three and a half miles home in the rain, or suck it up and accept the ride. Most people in the bayou were harmless and truly reached out to help each other. There was no reason to think this person was a crazed murderer. Right now, Joe seemed the lesser of two evils.

  “I sure could use one, thank you. I’m El,” she answered gratefully.

  “Hop in, El,” Joe patted the old bench-style seat. “I’ll get you home in a jiffy.”

  The truck’s warmth instantly seeped into El’s chilled body as she slid onto the passenger seat. The warmth was welcomed, but that did little to silence the alarms that began blaring in her mind the moment the bare skin of her arm touched the back of the seat.

  She didn’t remember the first time, but since she was a kid, when she touched things, she’d get strange visions. Snapshots of the last five times the item had been touched would play out like a slide show. She’d see exactly who had touched it and what had happened.

  Her freaky gift blasted images through her mind. Women had been attacked in the exact seat she was now sitting. She was going to have to play this cool if she wanted to get out of this in one piece.

  “There you go, nice and dry. So, how did you get into this pickle?”

  “My truck was acting up and then a tire blew. Voila, in the ditch I went.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but I’m not sure Patricia is going to make it.”

  Frowning, he pulled out his cell phone to dial 911. “Someone is still in the truck back there?”

  “What?”

  “Patricia, does she need an ambulance?”

  “Patricia IS the truck.”

  “Oh. Do you always refer to your truck as if it were a person?”

  “Sure. Don’t you?”

  “Not generally,” he said, laughing.

  “With a restored classic like this, she deserves a name. You should give her one.”

  As she glanced to Joe for a response, his grin broadened. But, the friendly emotion never touched his eyes or brightened the rest of his face. His brown stare was locked onto her, but remained dark. Cold. Menacing. That was when she knew she was in trouble.

  “Damn, I’m dripping all over your seat. Do you have something I can sit on?” she asked as an excuse to examine the interior for possible weapons.

  Taking a calming breath, El centered herself. Without giving her suspicions away, she took in her situation. There were no weapon options within reach and now that she looked closer–a shiver of fear rushed through her–the passenger’s door handle had been removed.

  This was a rolling trap designed by a predator to abduct women. Well, Joe was in for a very rude awakening. El was no victim. She was a black belt and a trained kick boxer. Dumb ass picked the wrong woman tonight.

  Casually, she snuck a glance. He continued to stare at her, only now his eyes held cruelty–no, not cruelty. Evil. Raw, smoldering, evil.

  There was little room to maneuver for kicks or punches. This would take precise movements and timing to work. As El planned her attack, Joe put the truck in drive and headed up the road. At least she would be closer to home once she escaped this horror-fest.

  A half mile short of her driveway, Joe turned onto a deserted road.

  This is it.

  Using slow, smooth movements, El prepared to escape. She quietly unbuckled her seatbelt but held it in place with her arm.

  “Damn, Joe!” she exclaimed when the truck hit a large water-filled hole. “This isn’t a road, it’s more like a path with tire tracks. Where are you going?”

  Joe didn’t respond. He didn’t even acknowledge she’d spoken. Apparently silence was part of his terror tactics.

  The truck bounced along the path, splashing through murky puddles f
or a short distance. Without looking in her direction, he put the truck in park and cut the engine. A snick told her he had unbuckled his seat belt.

  Expecting a terrified, docile woman, he leaned toward her, glared into her eyes and yanked the front of her shirt, ripping it away to expose her barely concealed breasts. A wet, white cotton bra hid little, that’s for sure.

  The speed of his attack momentarily shocked her.

  That isn’t normal.

  Now she worried that she might be dealing with a man high on drugs.

  Joe licked his lips as his gaze heated with aggression and lust.

  With his attention riveted to her Hanes Her Way®, El grabbed a fist full of Joe’s hair. As he cried out in pain, she yanked his head forward and introduced his nose to her elbow with a forearm strike. A sickening crunch and blood splatter verified she’d made a solid hit. Taking advantage of his temporary incapacitation, she hit him with a flurry of punches and jabs to his neck, head, and body.

  She had to find a way out of the truck. Only two options presented themselves: scramble to the back seat where door handles still remained, or crawl over Joe and through the driver’s door. Both options held risks, terrible risks.

  God, please let me survive this to see Mémé again.

  The back seat seemed to hold the best odds of success. A quick glance at Joe told her he was still struggling to recover from her assault. El twisted and grabbed the back of the seat as she positioned her knees to propel her body over.

  Only a second had passed and she was so centered on breaching the seat, she didn’t realize Joe was fully aware again. She barely saw the fist coming. Out of sheer reflex, she blocked the main force of the punch, but she was a fraction too slow. The blow glanced across her eye socket.

  “Fuck!” El’s grasp slipped from the back of the seat and her hand instinctively went to her eye.

  “Son of a bitch! What the hell is your damage? Can’t get it up without beating a woman first?”

  Gathering a hurricane of strength fueled by rage, she smashed his face into the steering wheel.

  “Fucking bitch!”

  Blinded by flowing blood, he struck wildly. Random jabs connected before El could press her back against the passenger door and use it for leverage. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth as she kicked Joe repeatedly.