“Oh, James.” She threw her head back as she tightened around him, her orgasm making her entire body shudder.
The breathy sound of his name on her lips pushed him over the edge. His release ricocheted through his core, shattering his senses until he and Odette were the only people left in the world.
Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tight to his chest, showering her in kisses until she laughed and sat up. Her dark curls spiraled down to her shoulders, and he coiled one around his finger and watched it unravel as he caressed her soft cheek.
“I love you.” The words tumbled from his lips without a second thought. Pure truth. Every bit of it.
“Took you long enough to figure it out.” She smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “I love you too.”
“Cut me a little slack.” He gazed out into the empty room. “There’s a piece of my soul floating around in here somewhere.”
She moved to sit sideways in his lap and snuggled into him. “And I am going to figure out how to put you back together. If the Baron makes an appearance at the ceremony, I’ll ask him for help. Whatever the price.”
“What should I expect tonight? Will he be possessing you?”
She drew in a quick breath and slid from his lap. “No. I won’t be possessed.” Rising from the couch, she shuffled about the room, gathering her discarded clothes.
He seemed to have hit a nerve. She disappeared into the hallway and returned with his jeans and T-shirt, laying them on the bed. Without making eye contact, she dressed, and he rose and picked up his pants.
“Have you ever been possessed?”
Her hard swallow was audible as she clutched her shirt to her chest. As she lifted her gaze to his, her eyes tightened with concern. “That’s a long story.”
He shoved his legs into his jeans. “Will you tell me on the way?”
Pressing her lips together, she studied him, but what was she looking for? Wondering if he could handle the truth? How bad could it be?
He took her hand. “Whatever it is, I want to know. I can take it.”
She glanced at their hands and then into his eyes. “You’re right. You deserve to know.”
Chapter Sixteen
“I’d like to know what happened to you before we go in there.” James shifted into park and looked at Odette. His deep blue eyes held concern and compassion, and she couldn’t blame him for the hint of apprehension emanating from his aura.
Fear of the unknown could be the worst kind of fear.
She glanced at her watch; they had twenty minutes to spare. A fluttering formed in her stomach but not the usual butterflies that took flight when James was near. This felt more like a swarm of angry wasps. “No time like the present.” Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath and blew it out hard. “Remember when I told you about my uncle and the pieces of souls he was keeping in ouangas?”
He shifted in his seat to face her. “I remember.” His eyes widened. “Wait. You put them in the containers. If you can force a soul into a jar, you can force one into a person, can’t you? My body is a container for my soul.”
The hopefulness in his voice tore at her heart. “I can’t. That part of you is attached to the house. It’s trapped there, and only Baron Samedi can mend a broken soul.”
“Oh.” His posture deflated. “Well, a guy can hope. Anyway, what happened with the ouangas?”
She took his hand. “When Baron Samedi found out about my uncle’s soul collection, he was furious. He insisted the souls be set free so they could rejoin with their rightful owners, but like I said, I don’t have that power. I can help spirit energy cross over, but I can’t mend an actual soul. Since these souls were residing in ouangas, Baron Samedi had to cross over into our world, and in order to do that, he had to act through a conduit. Through me.” Her voice trailed off, her will to tell this story crumbling. What would James think of her if he knew the entire truth?
He placed his free hand on top of hers. “He possessed you when you were twelve years old?”
She nodded. “It was the only way. I had to give up control of my body, let Baron Samedi take over. Things got out of hand. Jars were shattering. The spirits I’d trapped were angry with me. My uncle was livid.” Her lip trembled, and she blinked back the tears collecting on her lower lids.
“That must have been scary for you.”
“Most of the time, during a ritual possession, the horse doesn’t remember the ride. When a loa takes over, the host loses consciousness along with their control.” She held his gaze. “I remember everything, and it was terrifying. I was there, but my body wasn’t my own. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. But I was acting. Moving. Destroying the ouangas. Releasing the souls.”
Her heart sprinted in her chest, and she took a few slow breaths to calm herself. That was all he needed to know. Only two other living beings knew the rest of the story. Her father would never utter a word, and she would never see her cousin again. No need to add a third to the mix. “When it was over I swore I would never let it happen again.” She laughed. “Now you see why I have control issues.”
He shook his head. “I can imagine, but…” His eyes narrowed, and she could practically see the questions forming in his mind. He could tell she was holding back.
Time to change the subject. “What about when you’re in wolf form? Does the animal ever take over? Do you lose control?” She pressed her lips into a tight smile and prayed the deflection would work.
“Never. My wolf and I are the same being. Whether we’re in his form or mine, we work together. That’s why I couldn’t commit to you at first, before I knew the other woman he’d claimed was also you. When fate binds a werewolf’s heart, there is no fighting it, so I was confused as hell as to how I could be bound to two women.”
She grinned. “Bound to two mates. Sounds like a sexy romance novel.”
He chuckled. “Well, this is real life, sweetheart, and you are the only woman for me.”
“That’s good to know.” She cupped his face in her hand and ran her thumb across the dark stubble that was turning into a beard. “I like this look. Very rugged, handsome.”
Holding her hand to his face, he turned his head, rubbing the softening hairs against her palm before kissing it. “Maybe I’ll stop shaving then.”
She held his gaze, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. His sky-blue irises held little flecks of gold, like treasure in an infinite sea she wanted to swim through for the rest of her life. Her stomach tightened, a feeling of elation expanding in her core, slowly making its way into her chest. How could she get so much satisfaction from staring into someone’s eyes?
She could have sat in the car all afternoon simply looking at this man, but if she wanted more afternoons with him to come, they had work to do. “Are you ready to go in now?”
“I was born ready.”
“Such a tough guy.” She mussed his hair and climbed out of the truck.
The smell of burning incense greeted her nose as they entered the Voodoo temple. Taking James’s hand, she led him through the front of the shop into the altar room, where she stopped in front of Papa Legba’s dais.
“Please allow Baron Samedi to cross over today, Papa. I need to speak with him.” Tugging an old house key from her pocket, she kissed it and dropped it in a bowl next to a walking stick.
“Do I need to do anything? Say a special prayer or…” He rested his hand on her back tentatively. Nervousness rolled from his aura, and she slid an arm around his waist.
“Get right in your head. Outsiders like to write these rituals off as hokum, but I assure you everything you’re about to see is real. No one is faking.”
“You realize you’re asking a man who turns into a wolf to believe in magic, right?”
She smiled. “You’d be surprised how easy it is for your brain to convince you something isn’t real.”
“I’m a believer.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.
She tightened her arm around him. “Understa
nd that these are Ancestral Spirits, and we must hold them in reverence. Show them respect at all times. Follow my lead. I’ll let you know if you need to do something specific.”
“I’ll follow you anywhere, sweetheart.”
The conviction in his voice would have melted her doubts, but she didn’t have them anymore. He would follow her into certain death. Now it was up to her not to lead him there.
As they entered the ritual room, Natasha knelt on the ground, drawing a vévé to Papa Legba. Never lifting her gaze from her creation, she said, “Welcome back, you two,” and continued with her masterpiece.
“How’d she know it was us without looking?” James’s voice was a whisper, his eyes tight with worry as he glanced about the room at the other vodouisants.
“She knows things.” Odette rubbed his back, trying to ease his fear the way his presence always soothed her own.
The same drummers and dancers from the previous ceremony were preparing to begin, and three more female members of the house had joined them this time. A sour sensation churned in her stomach. She’d rather the entire Voodoo community not know about her situation, but there was strength in numbers, and the Baron did enjoy the women when they danced. If this didn’t entice the loa to pay her a visit she…
No. Don’t even think like that. This would work. They were out of options.
“Are we waiting on anyone else?” Natasha scanned the crowd, and the vodouisants shook their heads. “Alrighty then. Let’s get this party started.” The Mambo began her chant, and the drummers, Jackson and Tyrell, joined in, matching her rhythm.
“She’s going to ask Papa Legba to allow the loa to cross over, and then we’re going to pray that Baron Samedi will come.” She caught James’s gaze. “Keep him in your thoughts, and stay beside me, no matter what happens.”
His lips quirked into a hesitant smile. “I won’t leave your side.”
He had no idea how much strength that simple sentence gave to her. She hadn’t spoken to the Baron in person since the incident, and a brick settled in her stomach at the thought of all the things he might have to say. Things she deserved to hear.
As the beat continued, the dancers congregated in the center of the floor and moved along with the rhythm. The melodic cadence called to Odette, her body swaying before she realized what was happening. Instinct stiffened her, the usual fear of losing control taking over and bringing her mind into sharp focus. She had to keep it together. Panicking would do no good for anyone.
Natasha knelt again, grabbing a handful of cornmeal and drawing Baron Samedi’s vévé on the floor in front of Odette.
A flitting sensation bubbled in her stomach, reaching up to her throat, but she swallowed it down. She’d made a promise to her met tet, and she had to keep it. Slipping her hand into James’s, she relaxed her mind, allowing the music to penetrate her soul. As she swayed, her thoughts cleared, and she drifted into a semi-meditative state.
The energy around her shifted, an emptiness in the vibrational field increasing in strength. Was it her own magic intensifying with the ritual, or was her met tet joining the party? The darkness contracted, deepening and gathering into a cantaloupe-sized sphere.
The Baron was here.
Pressure built in Odette’s chest as her heart sprinted and her palms slickened with sweat. An electrical current pulsed up and down her spine. Though she’d only experienced it once, she would never forget the feeling of being ridden by a loa.
Panic tightened her throat, and her stomach turned. This couldn’t happen. Not now. She wasn’t ready. The last thing she wanted to do was renege on her promise to the Baron, but agreeing to live her life in his image and allowing the Spirit complete control over her body were nowhere near the same thing.
Tightening her grip on James’s hand, she turned her head toward him. He looked into her eyes, and she focused on the deep-blue color, the tiny flecks of gold glittering in the light. His aura, his presence, sharpened her mind and gave her the strength to let the loa know, in no uncertain terms, that she was not a horse to be ridden.
“I need to talk to you, Baron,” she whispered. “I can’t be your host.”
James raised his eyebrows, silently asking if she was okay.
She nodded, letting out a breath of relief as the loa’s presence dissipated, but a pang of regret flashed through her chest the moment his energy left. She may have ruined her one chance to receive Baron Samedi’s help.
Tyrell stopped drumming, his face falling slack and his shoulders slumping. The Mambo dashed toward him as his body stiffened, and she caught him before he collapsed on the floor.
“Is he okay?” James squeezed her hand tighter.
“He’s being possessed.” Please let it be the Baron. She’d never forgive herself if her irrational fear had screwed up their one shot.
Odette held her breath as Tyrell regained his footing. Slipping the strap over his head, he set the drum on the floor and rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck from side to side. He ran his hands down his stomach to lift his shirt and peer at his abs.
“Not bad.” He gave his wash-board stomach an appreciative nod and straightened, sweeping his gaze across the room. He paused on James for a split second, a look of recognition flashing in his dark-brown eyes, before focusing on Odette.
She gasped, and his lips curled into an un-Tyrell-like grin. Her pulse sprinted, and her lunch threatened to make a reappearance. Her prayer had been answered, but it didn’t make facing her met tet any easier.
He looked at Natasha and spread his arms, speaking in a thick Haitian accent. “What have you got for your Baron, Mambo?”
Natasha bowed her head and presented him with a bowl of white powder. He dipped his fingers in the substance and smeared it on his skin, making circles around his eyes and mouth until his face took on a skull-like appearance. Strutting toward a table, he picked up a pair of round sunglasses, popped out one of the lenses, and settled them on his nose. Then, he placed a silk top hat on his head and ran his fingers across the brim.
“He looks like the guy on the rum bottle,” James whispered, but no one responded.
Every vodouisant in the room had stopped to stare as Tyrell transformed into Baron Samedi, and the loa lifted his hands, palms up. “Why did the music stop? You know I love a party.”
Natasha picked up Tyrell’s drum, and she and Jackson played an upbeat rhythm.
Baron Samedi smiled, gyrating his hips and grinding on each of the dancers in turn as he made his way toward Odette. Stopping in front of her, the Baron pointed and then crooked his finger, indicating she should join him. Heat crept up her neck, and a low growl rumbled from James’s chest. Her werewolf didn’t want her to dance any more than she did, but she didn’t have a choice.
She leaned into James’s side. “Remember, he’s not Tyrell right now. I’m dancing with an Ancestral Spirit.”
He released his grip on her hand, but his gaze bore into her back as she stepped toward Baron Samedi and swayed her shoulders from side to side. Dancing with him was no different than an offering of rum or tobacco. She did it to honor her met tet. She needed to remember that.
“You call that dancing?” The Baron gripped her butt and pulled her body to his, circling his hips until she had no choice but to move along with him.
“I’m trying.” She rested her hands on his shoulders and forced a smile. “I promise I am.”
He laughed and released her, and James put his hand on the small of her back, reminding her he was with her no matter what.
“Your promise ain’t gonna be an easy one to keep, is it?” Baron Samedi arched a brow, and the white powder creased in the lines on his forehead.
She straightened. “Nothing worthwhile is easy. I brought you an offering.” She handed him a bottle of her newest white rum. “I hope you’ll accept it, along with my sincerest apology.”
The Baron uncapped the bottle and pressed it to his lips. Tipping his head back, he gulped down half the contents before handing it
back to her. “Not bad.”
James’s mouth dropped open as he eyed the half-empty bottle. “Tyrell’s not gonna know what hit him.”
Baron Samedi grinned, snatched the bottle, and drank three more gulps. “I like this guy.” He gestured to James. “He’s good for you. Let’s talk.” Draping his arms over their shoulders, he led Odette and James to some chairs in the back of the room. He gestured for them to sit, so she sank into a seat between her met tet and her soulmate.
The ceremony continued across the room, and Baron Samedi moved his shoulders, dancing along to the drumbeat. “You need my help.”
She clutched her hands in her lap. “Yes. Something is trying to kill us, and it happens in every life cycle.”
The loa nodded. “I know. I’ve seen it every time. Happens when you two meet.” He looked at James. “I almost hated seeing you reborn, knowing what would happen to you.”
“But…” She let out an exasperated sigh. “If you knew this would happen, why didn’t you take me the first time I died? Why let me live, only to curse him too?”
“Because, child, you were a baby. Even the loa of death doesn’t like to take the souls of children. And your mother made such a tempting offer.” He took another swig of rum. “An entire distillery dedicated to me? I had to save you. Besides…” He patted her shoulder. “Your other half had already been born. This was willed by fate.”
“So, our fate is to die?” Irritation edged James’s voice, but he cleared his throat, lowering his gaze and keeping it under control.
The Baron grinned. “Not necessarily. You have the power to stop him this time. You’ve been second-born in every life between then and now, and it takes a shifting werewolf to defeat the Rougarou.”
“You can’t be serious,” Odette said.
“He can’t shift?”
“Yes, he can, but…” Everyone knew the Rougarou was nothing but a legend. Some centuries-old folklore from the bayou passed down through the ages. She gaped at the loa, expecting him to laugh at the preposterous idea. When he kept a straight face, she looked at James.
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