Shifter Babies of America Box Set 1

by Becca Fanning

  So, Ella had been right when she’d pinned him as a ‘bad boy’. Good to know she hadn’t lost her edge, but not-so-good that now she found him even more attractive. She’d never been able to resist a man with an edge of danger. Although there was no way she would consider pursuing Victor when she was only in town for a while, a little more information couldn’t hurt. A girl could dream, after all.

  “It sounds like you know him pretty well…” She let herself trail off in hopes that Alice would fill the silence.

  “Yes, I’ve known him all my life. One of his cousins took me in after my folks—Enough about me though. Let’s get you checked into a room so that you can get some rest.” Ella’s curiosity was piqued, but she knew better than to push about an obviously painful topic.

  Ella was quickly checked in and found herself settling into a cozy room that was every bit as lovely as the exterior of the building had led her to believe. She smiled to herself as she drifted toward sleep. A lovely room, and several interesting leads to chase down. This trip was shaping up to be just what she needed to get out of the rut she’d been stuck in the last few months.

  Her love life had never been lively, but the last several months she had quit dating completely. She was so tired of the same song and dance: the awkward first date dinner, possibly followed by a movie, inevitably followed by an even more awkward good night, only to find that there wasn’t any spark. And she would have to turn around and do the same thing again and again if she didn’t want to be alone. Frankly, alone had sounded like a much better option lately. But between her lack of family close-by—she had moved to Dallas when she accepted her new job—and the fact that she was hardly home enough to have established many new friendships, being single was lonely as hell.

  Ella shook off the self-pity and decided to spend her emotional energy enjoying her time in New Orleans instead of wallowing in self-pity. After all, things were sure to look better after a full night’s sleep. They almost always did. With a contented sigh she drifted off to sleep in what had to be one of the most comfortable beds she’d ever been in.

  The next morning found Ella in The Beignet Café, where she sat enjoying a cup of strong coffee. She’d thoroughly enjoyed her beignet as well—she had to have the pastry the café was named for, after all—and would have even enjoyed a second one if she hadn’t been so eager to get to work. They might have been delicious, but all that powdered sugar would end up on her laptop if she tried to eat and work at the same time. The café was on her list of restaurants to review, but she couldn’t get more than a brief outline worked out.

  The scene from last night played through her mind on repeat, and Ella couldn’t get Victor’s cryptic words, or Victor himself for that matter, out of her head so that she could concentrate. Was he as dangerous as he’d seemed? And was he involved in a story that would help her to move beyond travel articles finally?

  Ella gave in to curiosity and connected to the wi-fi. Surely if she just did a little research it would satisfy her interest enough to let her concentrate on her work.

  Twenty minutes later, she’d learned three things. Victor’s last name, Victor Moreau’s home address, and that she wasn’t going to be able to let this go and concentrate. Her search had yielded nothing about Victor’s personal life. She’d looked over his numerous business interests, but there was almost nothing about the actual man. That seemed odd, because with his looks and money he had to be one of the town’s most eligible bachelors. Hell, Ella knew she would definitely read anything about him she could get her hands on.

  It looked like the only way that Ella was going to find more about this was to go to the man himself. Well, that or ply Alice for more information, but that wasn’t likely to yield results. She’d tried that morning and Alice was just as warm and welcoming as the night before, but it was obvious that she wasn’t willing to discuss her employer’s personal life.

  Ella tossed money on the table to pay for her meal and left the restaurant. She told herself that she needed to get back to her room, to see if she could concentrate on her writing better there. She kept telling herself that right up until the moment she entered Victor’s address into her GPS, a rueful smile twisting onto her lips as she gave in to spontaneity.

  What could it hurt, after all, to just go ask Victor a few questions? Best case scenario? She might end up with what her instincts were screaming was one hell of a story. Worst case, she could find out once and for all that this was a dead end. Maybe then she would be able to put it behind her and concentrate of the job that—for all that it left her unfulfilled—was paying her bills.

  Chapter 20

  Victor growled to himself as he pored over the reports from the last month. His people had been attacked seemingly at random. Some were guards, while others were members of his pack—the largest wolf shifter pack in Louisiana, and fourth largest in the United States—who paid dues to the pack but held civilian jobs outside its ranks. Victims had been young and old, rich and poor, attacked at work, at home, or even out in public on two occasions. The only commonality seemed to be that they were shifters.

  Victor couldn’t even know for sure if shifters from Raphael’s pack had been targeted, or if these attacks were being leveled only at his wolves. Even if Raphael had been willing to cooperate, which was damned unlikely, the pack was so much smaller than his own that it was possible they would have escaped unscathed, even if all shifters were being targeted.

  The unknown threat had his wolf close to the surface, leaving him feeling on edge and closer to losing control than he had been in years. If he, as the strongest shifter in the pack, felt this out of control, how much worst must it be for those under his care? If he didn’t get this under control soon it wouldn’t be the attacks that would tear his pack apart. It would be humanity. Shifters had been out in the open for years, but public acceptance of them was uneasy at best.

  For years shifters had tried to appear as small a threat as possible. For some this meant living under public scrutiny while trying to appear as docile as possible. Here in the southern United States, where superstition was still as natural as breathing, and where people had still believed in the supernatural while the rest of the world wallowed blissfully in their ignorance, most packs had opted for a different route. They simply hid what they truly were. One day they all hoped that shifters and humanity could truly coexist peacefully, but that day was not today. For now they would bide their time. It was better to hide their true nature, as their kind had been doing for thousands of years, and it was to be made unwelcome in the only home they’d ever known.

  That wouldn’t be possible anymore if one of his pack ended up shifting in public because they’d been pushed to their emotional limit. It was a dangerous precipice they hovered above. One wrong step and there would be no going back. If they were outed, the other packs in the region would try to get rid of them, quickly and quietly, before they could cause any more unrest. That outcome was unacceptable.

  Victor had to find and crush this threat before he lost control. More than that, before he lost his home and everything he’d worked to build in order to protect those under his care.

  He’d come close to losing control last night, with the gorgeous, eavesdropping guest at the hotel. He would like to think he hadn’t attacked her because he couldn’t be sure how much she had heard, but he knew better. The truth was that he hadn’t been able to decide if he wanted to silence her or bed her.

  Everything about her had called out to both him and his wolf, from her full lips to her gently rounded curves; from her obvious interest in him to the intelligent curiosity that filled her blue eyes. He was getting hard just thinking about her, had just pressed a hand over the evidence of his need in hopes of finding relief. He began to stroke himself to her image, the delicious friction making his motions faster, when the doorbell rang.

  Victor let out a vicious curse and then went to see who had interrupted the first moments in weeks that he’d been able to let go of the anxie
ty that had plagued every moment since the first attack on his pack.

  Victor had thought of a lot of possibilities, from a member of the pack with reports of a new victim to the police, finally figuring out that he was connected to all the victims and there to ask questions. The one thing he did not expect was for the object of his fantasies a few moments before to be standing at his door.

  But there she was, in a light sundress that hugged her curves when the summer breeze pressed the material against her skin. If she had any idea of the thoughts she sent racing through his head, she would turn tail and run. With an effort he dragged his eyes from her body, only to have them settle on her full, pink lips. Her tongue darted out nervously to moisten them, driving him even closer to the edge.

  “Mr. Moreau, hello. I’m Ella Walsh. We met at your inn last night?”

  “What the hell are you doing at my house, Mrs. Walsh?” His harsh tone was perhaps uncalled for and certainly rude, but he needed this woman away from his home before he lost the last shreds of his control and did something that he was sure they would both regret.

  She paled a little at his tone, but the smile never left her face. She had courage in spades, he would give her that.

  “Actually,” she said lightly in a tone that belied the paleness of her face as she breezed by him and into the entryway of his home, “it’s Ms. Walsh. But you can call me Ella. I’m writing an article for the Dallas Daily Star. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”

  He still stood in the doorway, so she brushed lightly against him as she entered his lair. The feel of her soft body against his side was enough to make him ignore his better judgement. Of its own accord his hand reached out to wrap around her petite waste, pulling her closer to him.

  “No, Ella,” he said huskily, unable to take his eyes from her mouth. “You can’t ask me any questions.”

  He sealed his lips against hers while some distant, more rational part of his mind tried to break through, to remind him that she’d done nothing to welcome his advances. That rational part was silenced when she gasped, opening her mouth to allow him better access.

  Victor couldn’t stop the groan that escaped him, any more than he could stop himself from pulling Ella up against him so that he could feel her heat against him through the thin material of the sundress. He pressed her against the wall, thrilled when her hands began an exploration of his body as he deepened their kiss. He was still hard from just the thought of her before, and having her show up and touch him now filled him with an aching need. He wanted to get rid of the layers of cloth between them, needed to feel her warmth as he drove himself inside her—

  Outside, a car backfired loudly, breaking the spell and reminding him that he was standing there, door opened, ready to take this woman in front of the entire world. He let out a shaky breath and lowered Ella gently to the floor, waiting to gauge her reaction. She seemed just as shaken as he was, peering up into his eyes through a thick veil of lust.

  “Actually, Mr. Moreau—”

  “Victor,” he interrupted. Surely a kiss that soul searing should put them on a first name basis.

  “Victor, I…I don’t think I need those questions answered after all.”

  She strode out of the house quickly. He wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t struck him, in the admittedly short amount of time he had known her, as the kind of girl that just fell into bed with a man she didn’t really know. He’d probably done the one thing that would chase away a woman tenacious enough to seek out a stranger in their own home when looking for answers. She was probably gone for good…and he reminded himself that was probably for the best. There was no way he could expose his pack by answering her questions.

  Still, he couldn’t resist watching her go, and couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if that damn truck hadn’t driven by when it did. With a sigh he went back to his home office to pore over the reports fruitlessly once more.

  Chapter 21

  Ella lay awake long into the night. Thoughts raced through her head, never slowing, never stopping. What had gotten into her? She had been ready to sleep with a man who was all but a stranger. Worse than just a stranger: all she knew about him was that he was involved in something dangerous. And, even worse yet…she wanted to regret her actions, but she couldn’t.

  For months now, she had been toeing the line. Writing the stories she was asked to write, staying unattached because she was on the move constantly and didn’t believe in sex without commitment, and because she couldn’t seem to find someone during her short time at home who was worth committing to. This afternoon, if only for a moment, she’d become the old Ella again. The girl who took what she wanted, who leapt without looking because she believed that the world was a place that would allow for everything to work out in the end; the girl she was afraid she’d lost forever when she moved away from home to chase her dreams. Inevitably though her thoughts would cycle back. She’d almost slept with a total stranger. Humiliation and lust had her wound up so tight that it seemed impossible for sleep to ever find her.

  Sleep did, however, find her eventually. It just didn’t find her not soon enough to keep her eyes from feeling like they were filled with hot powdered glass when the morning light filtered through the curtains on the following day. Ella groaned and turned over, determined to find the sleep that had eluded her the night before, when a slip of paper that had must have been slipped under the door during the night caught her eye. It could have been a bill, but she wasn’t due to check out for several days…

  Knowing that curiosity would keep her from going back to sleep before she read it, Ella padded over and picked up the slip of paper.

  You can’t stop what’s coming. You can’t spin it in a way that lets everyone win, journalist. If you want to live, leave quickly and quietly.

  All thought of sleep left her and panic welled up in its wake. This had to be a mistake. She wrote travel articles, for crying out loud. How could anyone think—but then the answer came to her. The only thing she’d done that might lead someone to believe she knew something dangerous was that she’d gone to visit Victor the day before.

  Ella almost heeded the note’s warning. She could try to write the New Orleans article with what she had so far, or she could ask them to have someone else write it. She could leave. She could go home and this place, with the bad decisions she’d made the day before, could be a distant memory in time. With these thoughts in mind, she started to pack her things.

  But if you run now, what comes next? She wanted to deny the question that burned in her mind, but already her subconscious had supplied the answer. If she ran from this now, she would prove to herself that she really was only a travel writer. She dreamed of writing about more, and with that came danger and controversy. No, she would not run from this.

  Unfortunately, the only person who might have shielded her from danger had already told her yesterday that he wasn’t going to let her know what was going on. Somehow, she doubted the way she’d acted like a desperate floozy would do much to build his confidence in her. She’d killed her credibility as a writer, and with it any hope of aid from that quarter.

  Victor’s help would have been welcome, but it wasn’t necessary. Ella had a lead—the stationary the note was written on had a letterhead—and so she could pursue this on her own. She would see this through to the end and prove once and for all that she had what it took to be an investigative journalist.

  She steeled her spine, unpacked the few clothes she had put in the suitcase, and pulled out her laptop, ready to do some research.

  Hours later Ella had to concede that investigative journalism might sound exciting, but the research could be quite tedious. By lunchtime a picture was starting to come together in her head, and it was both darker and more puzzling than she had previously imagined.

  The Red Wolf Lodge was owned by a man named Raphael Legrand. That in and of itself wasn’t interesting. A search of him had revealed a few property holdings, with the lodge
being the most profitable. What was interesting, though, were the rumors that surrounded the man. She’d stumbled on a blog about super naturals in New Orleans. Legrand was named as a shifter, and a violent one at that. With nothing more than rumors to go on, Ella might have discounted the information. But she had to admit that he certainly sounded like the kind of man that could have had someone slip that threat under her door.

  Ella needed a break from the research, and from the dread that was slowly but inexorably filling her as she realized just how deep into trouble she’d gotten herself in the last forty-eight hours. There was a small café next door to the inn, and Ella decided to grab a bite to eat. She’d worked through breakfast and lunch, and she needed to get something to eat sooner rather than later.

  Also, because she didn’t want to continue her research in public, the café would be a good place to do some writing on her travel article. If this story didn’t pan out she would still need to pay the bills, after all. She walked over to the welcoming little establishment, wondering if she could add it to the list of local restaurants in her article.

  Ella nibbled distractedly on the biscotti she had ordered for dessert as she wrote down some thoughts about the café, which had indeed turned out to be review worthy. She was so engrossed in the work that she didn’t realize someone had approached her from behind until they spoke her name.

  “Ella.” Nothing else, just her name, but already she knew that dark, rich voice anywhere. She tried to ignore the thrill that rose in her as Victor’s tongue curled around her name with his soft New Orleans’ accent.

  She turned to face him with a smile. Maybe, she thought, he had decided to share some information after all. Or, she reconsidered as his expression hit her computer screen and instantly darkened, maybe not. She looked back to her screen, unsure what could have brought him to anger. Ah. She must have accidentally minimized her word processor when she’d turned to greet him, because her computer now showed the website for the Red Wolf Lodge. The look on his face only cemented the fact that the threat had to be cause of her perceived association with Victor Moreau.