Lian/Roch (Bayou Heat) (14 page)

Chapter 3

His cat had taken him to the edge of the Wildlands, but after his shift into his male form, his mind and body, and something he couldn’t explain—or resist—had led him into New Orleans. He’d been there a hundred times for both business and pleasure, but this was the first time he’d had no clear purpose.

As he roamed the sunlit streets, enjoying a respite from the many hours of sick stomach and fuzzy head, he wondered why he was drawn here—what his cat was after.

Who
it was after.

It wasn’t unusual for a Pantera to follow a feeling, an instinct—see where it led. But it was an unusual practice for Roch. He rarely used his instincts unless he was in his puma form. In his male form, as a Suit, he relied on information, deduction and logic.

Bracketed by a small crowd of people, Roch noticed a woman walking toward him. She was beautiful, with long red hair and green eyes—eyes that moved over him with interest.

“Hi there,” she called out.

It was the strangest thing. Roch wasn’t the kind of male who pursued a woman, hard and relentless, but he did show his interest with a few words and a smile. Today, however, he had neither. Nothing. No interest at all.

Well, not in the redhead, anyway.

Just as she passed him with an irritated eye roll, he felt a surge of heat so powerful and electric, he turned toward it, like a flower into the sun. Or a Pantera male into a storefront. He glanced up at the sign before him.
Break For Beignets.
What the hell was this, a diner? A donut shop? And why was he being drawn here?

With heat still blazing inside him, he opened the door and went in. He was immediately met with an overpoweringly sweet scent and a long line of customers. Clearly, everyone wanted a beignet this morning. Everyone but Roch. He wasn’t hungry. In fact, despite the wondrous heat radiating from his chest, he was starting to feel sick again.
Goddamit. What the fuck is going on
?

He scanned the line, looking for something, anything that would stand out to him. When that turned up nothing, his eyes cut left, moved over the six tables and the people sitting at them. Lovers, businesspeople, family—

His gut screamed, then felt as if it had been split in half by a dull ax. He blinked to clear his vision, which was flickering black and white. Seated at the smallest table near the back was a woman he didn’t know. Didn’t recognize. And yet he did.

His breath seized inside his lungs and for a second, he just stared at her. Maybe twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and human, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. She had delicate features that called to him to touch. But a strong presence that made him wary. The sunlight streaming in from the window at her right made her masses of tight blond curls glow like a halo, and when she glanced up from her coffee and caught his gaze, he saw that her eyes were an extraordinary shade of violet. Christ. Who was this woman? And why had he been drawn here to her? Because, hell, he knew she was the reason he’d come to New Orleans today.

He started her way, his gaze taking in her form-fitting gray suit. She was tall, with small, firm breasts, and long, lean legs that could wrap a male’s waist and hold on tight while he—

He shut his thoughts down before they managed to take root. Take root and multiply.

He stopped when he reached her table, and found himself tongue-tied. Unheard of. What was going on? Why was he so attracted to her, by her? No. No… Attracted was too gentle a word for what he felt when he looked at his woman. Possessed was better. More accurate.

“You can take the chair.”

She was speaking to him; a clear, sensual sound from lips so naturally full and pink they made his mouth water.
Shit
. And she was looking at him with those large, expressive, violet eyes rimmed with extraordinarily long lashes.

“Excuse me?” Roch said, trying to reason what he was doing, and why.

“You want that, right?” She pointed to the black iron chair across from her. “Feel free. I know it’s crazy busy in here.”

He glanced around, then came back to her. “The tables are all full.” He sounded like a fool, an insane male. And yet he couldn’t stop himself.

“I suppose you can sit here,” she said, though her tone was cautious. “But I have to warn you, I’m not going to be great company. It’s been a shitastic morning.”

Tell me
, his cat purred from inside his chest.
Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it. Whatever it is.

Ignoring the overzealous feline inside of him, Roch pulled out the chair and sat down. “I’m sorry about your morning. Nothing like a donut to make things right, though.”

She smiled and the gesture seemed to light up her entire face. He stared at her. Hard. He couldn’t help himself. Besides her beauty, she made him feel…right somehow. It was like walking in the front door of his house and sitting down on the couch. He felt comfortable and warm. And drawn. So fucking drawn.

“Have you ordered yet?” she asked, her eyes flickering with humor. “Maybe you need a donut too.”

“Maybe.” A smile tugged at his lips. “But alas, the line…”

She glanced past him and nodded. “Well, I’m not very hungry.” She pushed her plate toward him. “You can have mine.”

Roch’s eyes settled on the pastry, then lifted to regard her. “Have we met?” he asked. “I feel as if I know you.”

She laughed softly. “I want to say that’s a pretty tired pick-up line. But,” she stopped and shook her head, “I think we may have.” Her brows drew together. “Are you an attorney? Or do you have a job in the legal profession?”

“No.” Was she an attorney? He knew nothing about her. And yet he truly felt as though he knew everything.

“Maybe college?” she suggested. “Where did you go to school?”

“I didn’t.” His nostrils flared. She smelled like heaven. Flowers and some kind of spice. “Have you been to The Cougar’s Den in La Pierre? Or out near the bayous?”

“No.” She laughed. “You know what it probably is? I look like someone you know and vice versa.”

No. No. “I don’t think it’s that simple,” he said, his chest flickering with tension.

“I think it has to be. Or maybe online, Facebook or—”

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He leaned in and whispered, “Are you connected with the Pantera somehow?”

Her eyes widened and her lips parted. “What did you just say?”

His jaw tight, he glanced around, then turned back to her. “Do you know of the Pantera?”

Her face went as white as the powdered sugar on top of her beignet. “Oh my god,” she said on a gasp. “Oh my god. Those assholes.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “Freaking Haymore works fast.”

Haymore? Roch stared at her in confusion. Who the hell was Haymore? His gut rippled with tension. Was this her male?

“Listen up, dickhead,” she ground out, trying to keep her voice low as she stared him down. “No matter what you’ve been sent here to do or to offer me, I will never end this pregnancy.”

Roch’s guts screamed with heat and sickness. Those violet eyes had turned fierce and protective. Pregnancy? She was pregnant? What the hell? Bile claimed his throat and he wished for his cat to take over so he didn’t puke all over the untouched beignet.

“I’m leaving now,” the woman said tightly. “Follow me and I’m going straight to the police.” She leaned toward him then and whispered, “Leave me alone and you’ll never hear from me again. No one will ever know this child is half Pantera.”

Roch’s body started to vibrate as the woman grabbed her purse and stood up. He reached for her, took her wrist, his eyes piercing into hers. “You are carrying a Pantera young?” he hissed, careful to keep his voice low. No doubt they were already attracting attention.

It wasn’t possible. She couldn’t be… With the curse… He froze. The curse had lifted only weeks ago. But, Christ, if it
was
true, who had planted their seed inside of her?

Feral anger rippled through him.

Which Pantera male had lain with this woman? Touched her? Ran their hands through those soft, blond curls while they—

She yanked her arm away, cutting off questions he had no right to be asking. “Fine. Play stupid.” She seemed tough, hard, pissed off, but the fear was bright in her eyes. “Just don’t bother me ever again.”

Bother her? That’s not what he wanted. “You’re putting yourself in danger,” he managed to grind out. “By being here. By being out—” He was about to say out of the bayou, but she stopped him with a hard stare.

“I don’t care.” She glanced around at the nearby tables, then turned back to him and whispered, “I will do anything to protect my child.”

“Even if that child is part animal?” he asked, amazed.

“Fuck you,” she ground out.

Stunned, every muscle in his body tense and ready to spring, his guts clenching with every breath he expelled, Roch watched as the woman left the table and hurried out of the shop.

* * *

A bag of Chinese take-out in one hand and a book on what to expect during pregnancy in the other, Lydia thanked her doorman and headed for the elevator. After the morning she’d had she just wanted to hide out in her condo this afternoon. Take a bath, and binge-watch Orange Is the New Black while stuffing her face with cream cheese wantons.

Once inside, she hit the button for the third floor and leaned back against the metal wall. She was trying to assure herself that the people at The Haymore Center would leave her alone now that she’d threatened going to the police, outing their mistake, but she couldn’t help feeling afraid. Not for herself, oddly, but for the little life growing inside her. If this baby was truly half Pantera, how was she going to protect him or her? Especially if there were people out there who looked at her child and saw an animal?

The elevator door opened and she stepped out, headed down the hall. Was it possible to keep it a secret? Or would her half human child end up being able to shift into a cat one day in the middle of Show and Tell?

Okay, tomorrow, she mused, nearly dropping her book as she tried to free a hand to get her keys. She’d think about this tomorrow.

“Let me help you?” came a male voice a few feet away.

Lydia’s head lifted and her heart nearly dropped onto the carpet under her feet. She froze, her keys instantly forgotten. Clutching the food and the book to her chest, she took in the man standing just outside her door. It was him. Of course it was him. The guy from the beignet place. Her insides pinched. From fear, and lord, from something else entirely. Something she refused to name. Something she should not be feeling at all.

Her gaze tracked over him. He was terrifyingly good-looking. Tall, lean, big hands, thick wrists, dark blond hair and icy blue eyes that warned of a highly intelligent mind. Just like earlier, he wore a black suit, white shirt, and dark purple tie, and as he walked toward her it was like witnessing the very essence of confidence, sexuality and ultra masculinity.

“This is disturbing,” she said, trying like hell to remain cool and calm, and act like she could kick his ass if she had to. “You outside my door.” Dammit. Her voice was shaking. Or maybe that was her insides. It was just…the way he was looking at her. Not like he wanted to do her harm, but like he wanted to know what her skin tasted like.

She blushed and walked past him to her door.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not trying to scare you.”

She could feel him behind her. His warmth. “Too late.” She transferred the book and food bag to her left arm, then went searching—not for her keys this time, but her cellphone. If this gorgeous bastard from Haymore tried anything, she was calling the police.

“I just need to know,” he said, coming around her and leaning all six feet, suit-clad, hard jawed gorgeousness against the doorframe. “Are you certain you’re carrying a Pantera child?”

The need to drop everything and cover her belly with her hands, protect her tiny child, was intensely strong. But Lydia kept her composure. “That’s an odd question for the man who’s representing the very company whose samples I used.”

“I’m not representing this Haymore you speak of.”

She turned to look at him just as her hand closed around her cell.

His eyes darkened to a stormy sky blue. “And I’m not a man.”

Heat and panic erupted within her. Her breathing shallow and uneven, she brought cellphone out of her purse and quickly dialed 911. “You need to get the hell out of here. Maybe get yourself to a psych ward. The cops are coming.”

But the cellphone never made it to her ear. The man slipped it from her so fast she hardly felt it leave her hand. He stabbed the off button, then turned to look at her.

“You need to come with me, Ms. Page.”

Her heart was beating so fast, she worried she might pass out. “And you need to run before I scream my head off.”

“I am not going to hurt you,” he insisted tightly. In fact, he looked put out, insulted by her suggestion. “I am Pantera, and I want to help you.”

The book she was carrying slipped from her arms and dropped onto the floor. Her mind whirred. And she tried to keep up with her thoughts—with what he’d just said to her.
Pantera.
This tall, imposing, stunning, gorgeous nut case was Pantera?

No.

She stared into his eyes. She didn’t believe him. Couldn’t. But then she saw something flash within those ice blue orbs. Something she couldn’t explain, but something her body, skin, and blood recognized.

She gasped, covered her mouth. “It’s not possible.”

“What samples are you talking about?” he asked. “What did you get from this Haymore Center?”

Oh god. Was this really happening? “I was artificially inseminated.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this, telling him this.

Something flickered in his blue eyes. Gratification? Or relief? “So you have not lain with one of our males, then? No Pantera has a claim on you?”

Lydia stared at him. “No.” The way he spoke. The words he used. Could this be real? Could he actually be a Pantera shifter?

“If the child is Pantera,” the man continued as if what they were discussing was not completely insane-sounding, “wouldn’t you want to know its origins, community, history and medical issues?”