Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf

by Seduced By a Cajun Werewolf [MF] (v5. 0) (epub)

  “Have a seat,” Amanda said and nodded to the four tall bar chairs lined up along one side of the island.

  Cayenne took a deep breath and sat down. She kept her fingers laced and rested them against the cool, smooth stone surface and tried not to pay attention to the sound of their blood pulsing through their veins. Act normal. She could do that, right? Just for a few hours. Just long enough to fit in like Laurent wanted.

  "Do you prefer to be called Cayenne or Violet?" Amanda asked from across the island.

  Cayenne hadn't really thought about it. She'd never been particularly fond of her name. But then she'd never had any reason to change it. But whenever Laurent called her Violet...something inside her fluttered. A memory?

  "Cayenne is fine," she decided. Better to keep things as they were. No use rushing to change everything at once.

  Despite her feelings for Laurent, she couldn’t stay here. With his pack. Could she?

  Would that be crazy? Looking around the high end kitchen with its recessed lighting and fancy cabinets made her feel out of place.

  She thought of the way Jules had reacted yesterday. Could she become a woman deserving of Laurent?

  "You'll have to forgive us, Cayenne," Amanda said and then glanced over at Angel. "We've never had a vampire join us for dinner before. In fact, we're still getting used to the whole fur and paws routine."

  "It's fine. I don't eat human food." Not any more. But sometimes she craved a croissant more than her next drink.

  Angel sidled up to Amanda, a nervous expression on her face. "What, ugh, do you eat then? If you don't mind me asking."

  Cayenne's eyebrows arched up at the young woman’s bravado and her lips twitched. Angel gave an anxious laugh. Cayenne, for the first time she could remember, laughed. The movement shook her shoulders and she felt a jolt of pure joy.

  A bemused smile curved her lips. Nothing, not even sex with Laurent had made her feel that good. It was like being unleashed, unlocked from her prison.

  Angel and Amanda looked startled, but then they joined in the laughter.

  "Mostly these days I drink from bagged sources. Not unlike your canned goods." A marvelous invention, that.

  Amanda nodded, taking the information in stride. Angel looked a little less uneasy.

  "You're not on the menu, if that's what you're asking," Cayenne said and gave the woman what she hoped was a friendly smile.

  Their eyes went wide. "Wow. Do those hurt?"

  Cayenne flicked her tongue over her fangs. "No."

  Laurent paused outside the kitchen doorway, astonished to hear his mate's laughter. The sweet sound hit him straight in the heart like a dagger. He remembered it all too well. Had missed it so much. To hear it again felt like a dream. And yet jealousy gnawed at him. He hadn't made her laugh.

  He pushed the evil emotion away and listened to the womens' quiet voices.

  She was fitting in faster than he'd thought she would. Especially considering he wasn't sure she wanted to fit in. She’d promised to try to be his mate. And he knew that he needed to win Amanda’s vote if he and Cayenne were to continue living here. But just how permenant Cayenne wanted their current living situation to be…he wasn’t sure.

  Frustrated by the uncertainty that had eaten at him for the past two days he turned and strode back down the wide hall and reentered Sebastian's office. Jules stood at the window looking out at the manicured grounds, ever on alert. Sebastian sat behind his desk, studying a document.

  If Laurent and more importantly, Cayenne, could win Amanda’s vote, he knew it wouldn’t be long before Sebastian could be persuaded.

  "They're laughing," Laurent said, bemused. He took a seat in the wide leather sofa across from the floor to ceiling windows and dragged a hand down his face.

  "Laughing?" Jules asked.

  "I haven't heard her laugh in over two hundred years," Laurent mused, gazing at the wildly patterned Persian rug. Two hundred years.

  "What could they have to laugh about?" Sebastian asked. He shifted in his seat, obviously still uneasy with Violet's presence. Laurent wasn’t sure if he was still worried about Laurent’s broken heart or the possibility that Cayenne might try to kill him again. Or more importantly if she posed a risk to the rest of the Pack.

  But Laurent trusted her.

  No matter what she called herself, to him, she'd always be Violet. To his brother and cousin's she would always be the woman who broke his heart.

  The three of them glanced at each other. Laurent shrugged. Jules frowned. Sebastian pursed his lips and went back to reading.

  Cayenne had never had friends before, at least none that she remembered. The people in her life were acquaintances at best. Mentors. Fellow students. Targets. But never friends.

  Which is why when Amanda reached for Cayenne's wrist, pulled her down from her bar chair, and then proceeded to teach her how to make old fashioned biscuits, Cayenne was completely surprised. And humbled.

  She’d never done anything so domestic. Listening to Amanda’s instructions, watching her demonstration, Cayenne could see that cooking was much like learning how to use a sword. Baking was pretty exacting. Proper ingredients in the right measurements, and lots of practice, Amanda had said, were the key to fabulous biscuits.

  The dough squished beneath her fingers. "You're doing good," Amanda said, her voice full of encouragement.

  Why were they being so nice?

  “You want to pat the dough flat. About an inch thick,” Amanda directed and then placed a round, silver biscuit cutter onto the edge of the large cutting board.

  Cayenne did as she was told, using her palms to press the dough as evenly as possible. “It’s springy,” she murmured, more to herself than her teacher.

  “Hmm huh. This is great grandma’s recipe. A favorite among the Deveraux men.”

  Cayenne glanced at the southern belle standing at her side. What was it like to be so accepted? To have a place you belonged?

  Ignoring the thoughts and the longing that went along with them, she continued flattening the dough.

  "You're pretty good at that," Angel said from her station at the stove. "Are you sure you've never done that before?"

  Cayenne looked at the disc of dough. A memory sliced through her, sharp and fast. Smaller hands. An old, well worn table. And the sound of laughter. She shook it off. "I'm not sure of anything anymore."

  "Now, the fun part," Amanda chimed in. "Dip the cutter in flour." She dropped a handful of white powder next to the cutter. "And then start cutting. Just press down evenly, rock it side to side a bit, twist and lift."

  Cayenne reached for the round silver utensil. Wrapping her fingers around the handle she aimed it at the dough as Amanda had instructed. She pressed down. The cutting board groaned under her strength. Oops.

  She jerked her hand back and a biscuit hurtled through the air. Flour exploded through the kitchen. Amanda and Angel gasped. Cayenne twisted her body in a lightning fast move and caught the biscuit in her hand. Milky white powder showered down around them.

  The kitchen went completely silent. She met their gaze.

  "Holy cow. That was impressive," Angel exclaimed. "I wish I'd gotten that on camera. But then, I'm not even sure what shutter speed to set to catch something moving that fast." She laughed, easing the tension.

  Amanda glanced down at the biscuit in Cayenne's hand. Cayenne waited for a reprimand.

  "Your first biscuit. Good job." She plucked it from Cayenne's hand and deposited it on a baking sheet. "Maybe a little less force next time," she said with a smile.

  “Whoa, who set off the flour bomb?” She turned to see Jules entering the kitchen, his long legs ate up the space to Angel and he kissed her neck.

  “That would be me,” Cayenne admitted.

  “Are those great gram’s biscuits?” the werewolf asked, his gaze zeroing in on the slab of dough. His stomach growled.

  Cayenne couldn’t help but join in the laughter. How had she missed this? Her whole life seemed so cold, s
o sterile. And this homey kitchen was the exact opposite. Well loved. Lived in. Appreciated.

  She shifted from one foot to the other and glanced at the gouge she’d left in the cutting board. Another sign she didn’t belong here.

  "I think I've done enough damage for one day," Cayenne said, setting the biscuit cutter carefully on the counter.

  "You don't have to go," Amanda said.

  "Thanks for teaching me."

  “Join us for dinner tonight,” Angel called as Cayenne hurried from the room and took the stairs two at a time. In her room she settled into the well loved wingback chair in front of the window and looked out. She sucked in one deep breath after another. Hyperventilate much? she thought wryly.

  The sun was setting, bathing the forest in warm honey colored light. She drug both hands down her face. Emotions she'd managed to hold at bay for centuries bombarded her. She couldn't put her finger on the exact moment the change had occurred, all she knew was that she wasn't the same woman who’d arrived in New Orleans two weeks ago.

  "Why are you hiding in here?" Laurent's deep, sexy voice cut through her trip down memory lane.

  She jerked her head left and took in the handsome man who filled the doorway. Could the fates really have picked someone so...masculine, so big to be her mate?

  Watching his long legs move beneath the tight denim did funny things to her insides. He squatted in front of her and draped an arm over her legs.

  "Now, tell me...why are you hiding?"

  "I'm not hiding. I went to the kitchen like you asked." She let her hands drop to her thighs and noticed a trace of flour at her wrist.

  "How'd it go?" His words sounded casual, but she felt a deeper concern behind them.

  "I made biscuits." She wiped the flour away.

  He reached up and used his thumb to wipe a smudge from her cheek. "I can see that," he said softly. His gorgeous brown eyes locked with hers and she wondered if this is how it had happened all those years ago. How she'd fallen in love with him. Had he used that soft, sure tone? Had he stared into her eyes until she couldn't breath and her clothing felt too tight?

  "Evidently I'm stronger than I thought. There was a mishap with the cutting board and then the whole flying biscuit fiasco followed by a flour shower," she said in a rush.

  His eyes sparkled as he laughed. "I would have paid good money to see that."

  "As opposed to bad money?"

  “Why are you up here by yourself, cheri?”

  Why did he have to speak to her like that? So softly? So sweetly? And use endearments, good heavens it made her melt. And she couldn’t afford to melt. Not now. She had to stay strong. Resolute. She had to think. And it was damn near impossible to think with the sexy hunk of werewolf kneeling in front of her, touching her so gently, speaking to her so sweetly.

  “Surely Amanda didn't kick you out of the kitchen.”

  Cayenne shook her head.

  "I just need some time to myself. To think." Now if she could just keep telling herself that. And actually follow through.

  "You do too much of that. Sometimes you need to let yourself feel."

  Cayenne knew it was safest to change the subject lest she be drawn into an exchange about…feelings. Something she didn’t want to address. "Do you really think it's necessary to hide out here? We’re endangering your family unnecessarily."

  She didn’t want to be responsible if something happened to his brother. Or cousins. Or heaven forbid Amanda and Angelica.

  “This is the best place to be. A full on battle between us and them in the middle of the city wouldn’t be good. Even in a town like New Orleans that’d be attention we don’t need.”

  After a few moments, she nodded. He was right. She glanced out the window and sighed.

  Just like that, the spell was over. Laurent pushed to his feet and stepped to the window, remembering her innocence all those years ago. When she’d never worried about things like vampire attacks. Those wide, trustful eyes had she looked at him as if no one else on the planet existed.

  Emil had changed all of that. Stolen her from him. And she was right. There was a potential for danger if they weren’t prepared for Emil’s attack.

  When Laurent got his hands on the bastard he would make him pay for ever harming Violet and her family.

  Chapter Ten

  Werewolves had a voracious appetite. She’d known that, but she’d never actually watched them eat. Settled between Amanda and Laurent at the large round dining table, she had a front row seat for the activities.

  “Here’s the one Cayenne made,” Amanda said, setting the golden biscuit on Laurent’s plate.

  He murmured his thanks.

  She knew that he was still mulling over her words. And though she knew his family came from a long line of warriors, hunters, something still didn’t feel right about hiding out here. Putting others at risk for something she herself should have ended more than a century ago.

  Her guilt ate at her. So did her hunger.

  Jules cracked a joke and everyone else laughed, but she kept her focus on the empty plate in front of her.

  Amanda leaned over. “I know you don’t eat human food,” she whispered, “but I felt weird not having a plate in front of you. Call it southern hospitality.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Cayenne hated the tension in the air. Normally the thick anticipation powered her. But not right now. Amanda and Angel had made her feel welcome. But the looks that Jules and Sebastian shot her way were filled with skepticism. And watching them all laugh together, eat together, the cozy scene made her feel like an outsider with her nose pressed against the glass. Worse than that, she felt like a fraud.

  Trying to fit in when she had no business being here. No business putting their lives in danger.

  “I’m sorry if I’m being rude,” she whispered to Amanda.

  “Don’t worry about it. Think of all the calories you’re saving yourself from.” She gave that impish grin of hers.

  “What are you two whispering about?” Sebastian asked quietly, his arm stretched along the back of Amanda’s chair.

  Cayenne glanced past the woman between them and saw him pop an entire biscuit in his mouth.

  “I’m trying to make our guest comfortable,” Amanda replied and pegged her husband with a play-nice look.

  Cayenne tried not to notice the vein pulsing at Amanda’s neck. The safest place to look was at the table. At the mountain of beef, chicken, bread and the occasional vegetable.

  “Yeah, it’s not every day we have a bloodsucker at the table,” Jules muttered.

  “Jules Deveraux,” Angelica exclaimed, her whole body shifting in her chair as she pegged her fiancé with a fiery look. He immediately looked sheepish.

  “He states the obvious, Angel,” Cayenne said.

  “It doesn’t give him an excuse to lose what manners his mother gave him. You apologize, wolf or I’ll whallop you,” Amanda demanded.

  Jules glanced at Sebastian, then regarded Amanda before his gaze fell on Cayenne. “Sorry, Cayenne.”

  The meal progressed as if Jules hadn’t spoken and the tension seemed to ease a bit. Food kept the men occupied and Angel and Amanda kept up a fluid stream of chatter, drawing occasional comments from the others.

  Cayenne watched as Burke finished off his fourth steak. Unbelievable.

  Amanda must have noticed her watching the feast. “I know…they eat a lot. It took me a while to get used to it.”

  “I’m a growin’ boy,” Jules teased and patted his flat stomach. Her lips curved upward. He seemed like the youngest of the group. Always getting into trouble, speaking before he thought, cracking jokes. Charm. That’s what saved him.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Amanda asked.

  “You look a little pale…” Angel chimed in.

  Cayenne heard the words, waited for Jules to crack a joke, and fought to stay in a serene place. A place where hunger did not exist. Where she wasn’t thirsty. A place where she didn’t crave blo
od.

  It was a place she’d gone to many times over the years as she waited for a target or did extensive surveillance.

  She’d honed the skill. Perfected it. But normally, she was so focused on her mission and there were no distractions to pull her from her concentration.

  A loud, hungry pack of werewolves was definitely a distraction. As was the sound of their combined heartbeats.

  If she could just forget them. Go away. Far away. Drink…

  “Maybe she just needs to nibble on Laurent a bit,” Burke said and laughter cut through her focus.

  As if the thought had occurred to him for the first time, Laurent swiveled around in his seat. “Are you hungry?”

  Her focus shattered at the intensity of his words. “A little bit,” she whispered.

  He pushed away from the table. “Excuse us,” he told the others and pulled her chair back.

  Not wanting to make a scene, she stood. He reached for her hand, held it for a moment as he stared down at her. Emotions flickered through his eyes.

  She was thankful for the reprieve as it was far easier to control the hunger when she was isolated. When she couldn’t hear a pulse.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as he led her from the room.

  “You should have told me.” His words were quiet but anger rippled off of him.

  Her feet hit the top of the landing and she turned to him with raised eyebrows. “What?” Her voice was shrill and she hoped the others hadn’t heard her.

  “You should have told me you needed to feed.”

  Her temper snapped and she put her hands on her hips. “Of course I need to feed. I’m a vampire not a ghost.”

  He started to reach for her but she backed away. “I just meant…I don’t know your schedule.”

  “Do you want me to draw you up a spreadsheet?” She turned and marched toward their room.

  “Cayenne,” he called after her. “This is new for me, cheri.”

  She heard his footsteps on the old wooden floor behind her but she didn’t slow down. Annoyed at the whole situation, she ran her tongue over her fangs.

  Large, warm hands clamped around her upper arms and he gently turned her so that she was facing him. As quickly as it’d come, the anger died and in its place, passion and remorse. She realized then that he’d been angry with himself. Upset that he hadn’t seen to her needs.