Muzzling the Beast: Taming the Beast, Book 4 (2 page)

She went hot, cold, and hot again, wondering what he was getting at. Surely, none of the clients had lodged a complaint with the cops, telling the authorities they were vamps, weres, reapers, or any number of other beings trying to suppress their beasts. Why would any of them expose their true natures to a mortal?

Oh hell.
Constance wondered if the police department had a supernatural working undercover, egged on by the Religious Right, who saw conspiracies everywhere, even in Barbie dolls and McDonald’s Happy Meals.

Afraid to know but curious too, she murmured, “What have you heard?”

Gabe wasn’t talking. He took in the sofa and the plants and then finally turned to the cabinet.

Before he could get a good look at the photos, Constance cupped his head and turned his face to hers.

He lifted his eyebrows in obvious surprise but didn’t move away. “What are you doing?”

What she shouldn’t…wanting him. The feel of his tight curls was a major distraction, the same as his rich mouth. She sighed. “Nothing.”

Gabe didn’t argue. He blinked as she zapped his memories of why he’d come here and then looked at her questioningly.

What could she say, sorry? She really was for having played with his mind, but not for touching him.

Thankfully, he wasn’t complaining about her stroking his scalp. After a moment, he grew distracted, as he had earlier, studying her features, becoming lost in them.

She drank his in too, liking his looks, feeling oddly comfortable with him even though they didn’t know each other and never would. A pang of sorrow hit Constance hard, with longing beneath it for a good man, someone she could count on who’d make each day a pleasure.

Wasn’t gonna happen with him. They only had these moments.

“You okay?” she asked.

He stared at her eyes, then her mouth. “Shouldn’t I be?”

As far as his memories were concerned, no. When it came to her touching him, she would have liked to have heard a definite yes. “Absolutely,” she finally said, answering his question. “You’re good…more than…”

She didn’t finish as Gabe edged closer, as though he couldn’t help himself. Well, hell, she couldn’t either, finally acting on pure instinct and bringing his mouth down to hers.

Aw God.
His lips were ungodly heated and super soft, his beard-roughened cheeks a wonder against her skin, so virile and welcomed. On an unsteady breath, Constance sagged into him, opening her mouth to his, inviting his tongue inside.

He stilled for a moment and then loosened up. Hell, he went full throttle, pulling her against his rock-hard erection, cupping her ass.

Constance angled her head, offering him better penetration. Groaning softly, he speared his tongue into her mouth, filling it and thrilling her. He tasted of peppermint with a hint of coffee and a flavor belonging to him alone. Clean and enticing.

So much so, Constance couldn’t bear the thought of finally removing his memories of her. Instead, she wreathed her arms around his neck and dove in for more.

She was pure sin in his arms, her abundant curves snuggled against his chest, belly and thighs, her scent a sultry combination of spice with deep floral scents.

Gabe growled like a maniac—or whatever kept slamming into the wall—clueless about what was going on. Was he having the mother of all wet dreams?

One second, he’d been on an investigation—at least Gabe thought he had, but he suddenly couldn’t recall what it had been about. His mind had gone totally blank for a moment, like a computer being rebooted. When he became aware again, he was staring at, then kissing Constance.

Constance who?

Did it matter? She was so wonderfully warm, soft and willing in his arms, and he didn’t want this moment to end.

When she tried to slip her tongue into his mouth, he wouldn’t allow it, wanting to run the show. She surrendered immediately but didn’t play dead, her response beyond wanton, delightfully sensual, tasting of life and unrestrained need. Stuff Gabe had never engaged in with a woman he’d just met. His disciplined nature had always restrained his lust, especially when it flew in the face of good sense.

However, that was then…this was definitely now.

With his arm tightened around Constance’s waist to hold her still, he tugged at her turban, needing to know what was beneath it. The headdress fell to the floor, allowing her hair to spill out. Not short as he’d expected, but long, silky tresses tumbling halfway down her back.

Oh, mama. In addition to being a beautiful young black woman with eyes as dark as midnight and a body like a damn fertility goddess, she had long hair too?

It was fucking Christmas in July.

Not understanding any of this, Gabe went with desire, practically devouring her until they both needed air. Her pebbled nipples kept poking him with each of her strained breaths. He pulled his mouth free, filled his lungs as much as he could and glanced around the room they were in, not recalling how they’d gotten here.

What in the fuck was going on?

Before his disquiet could blossom into full panic, Constance lowered her arms and eased away.

Her plush mouth was wet from their kiss and slightly swollen from his passion. Gabe was about to apologize when she smiled and ran her thumb over his bottom lip.

“Still doing okay?” she asked.

Beneath her lusty demeanor, he sensed her concern, which stoked his. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Something crossed over her face he couldn’t quite interpret. She dismissed it with another smile. “No reason. From what I can see, you’re young, strong, and healthy.” She edged closer. “Very healthy.”

Gabe stopped himself before he laughed. “Thanks. Can I ask you something?”

Constance wound a tress around her finger. He watched, transfixed, wanting to bury his face in her mane, smell her wondrous scent.

“Shoot,” she finally said.

Although he was reluctant to go on, Gabe didn’t have any choice except to ask the dumbest question ever. “How’d we get in this office?”

She smiled as though he was putting her on. “You followed me, of course. We were talking and laughing and then I attacked you. Sorry.” Her expression was more playful than apologetic.

Good thing, since Gabe wasn’t about to complain. He wore her scent and figured she wore his, with their kiss being something he wouldn’t soon forget. “What were we talking about when we came in here?”

She grinned, showing perfect teeth, sparkling white against her rich complexion. “Our kiss was so good you forgot?”

Apparently.

With a gentle laugh, she placed her hand on his chest and stroked his tie. “You were looking for the new nightspot, After Dark. You can see it from the window in here. I was going to show you.” With her attention on him, she gestured to the right.

Gabe didn’t bother to look.

Constance seemed to appreciate his interest in her. “Do you still need directions?”

“No, I’m good.” He was also horny and confused, his body aching for her, his mind struggling to recall how they’d come to this point. Unable to, he decided to figure it out later and concentrate on the matter at hand. “When do you get off tonight?”

She stopped stroking his tie, surprise and then sadness flitting across her face. “Not until dawn.”

“What about tomorrow?”

She sighed. “The same. I work nights every single day.”

“No time off to ever go out and have some fun?” He paused and smiled. “With me of course.”

She studied his mouth, obvious arousal in her gaze. “Ah… No, sorry, I don’t have any free time.”

Gabe could barely hide his surprise, wondering why she’d turned him down for a date when it seemed clear she didn’t want to. Before his disappointment got the better of him or he felt even more foolish, he lifted his shoulders. “Guess I better get going.”

He didn’t move. Neither did she. Something passed between them once more, electric and exciting, damn near bringing Gabe to his knees. He wanted Constance to kiss him again. Hell, he needed to do so with her.

As though she understood his turmoil or felt her own, she finally turned away. “I’ll show you to the door.”

On their way down the hall, a chilling howl broke out, similar to a wolf’s, followed by hisses resembling those from a huge cat or a snake. Each time he stopped at the unearthly sounds, Constance continued walking as if she hadn’t heard them.

Suddenly, Gabe wasn’t certain he had either. Could be he was hallucinating for reasons he didn’t understand.

Sweating badly, he finally reached the front office. The young woman at the desk was so white—including her hair, complexion, and clothes—it almost hurt to look at her without sunglasses.

When she spotted him, she turned her chair around so he couldn’t see her.

Had he said something offensive when he first came in? Gabe glanced around the reception area but couldn’t place any of it, as though seeing it for the first time.

Didn’t make sense. He had to have come through here to get to Constance’s office.

“Nice meeting you,” she said, offering her hand.

Jeweled rings covered each finger. Despite his misgivings about everything else, Gabe had to smile at her gems and silky gown, liking both. He fantasized what was beneath the yellow fabric…flawless ebony skin, dusky nipples, a curly triangle of hair between her legs.

Thinking of those treasures, he caressed her hand, her heat and expression further stealing his breath, making him tremble with intolerable need.

Fuck, he wanted to see her again. He wondered if she’d shot him down because she had a boyfriend or a husband. Possibly several ex-spouses too, given all the rings she wore.

Not wanting to act like a cop and interrogate her, Gabe released her hand and forced himself to go out to the landing. The night air was so steamy and thick he found it difficult to breathe.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one.

A guy hung over the wrought-iron railing as if he was about to hurl on the ferns hanging below it.

Gabe stepped closer. “Hey, buddy, you all right?”

The guy turned to him.

Gabe tried not to stare but couldn’t stop, never having seen anyone hairier and getting more so by the second. Not only was the guy’s beard growing thicker, his eyebrows were too, covering half—no, all of his forehead. Even his throat and the backs of his hands were sprouting the stuff.

Shocked, Gabe backed up.

The guy muttered, “Fucking full moon.”

When Gabe continued to gape, the guy huffed out a sigh. “Great. You’re mortal. I should’ve known. Constance!”

She was on the landing faster than Gabe could blink.

The guy spoke to her. “I tried to fight it like Zoe taught me, but as you can see, I can’t.” His teeth were starting to elongate like a dog’s or a wolf’s, the same as his face. “The friggin treatment’s not working—and this dude’s clearly mortal.”

Moving at warp speed, she pushed the guy into the office and cupped Gabe’s head. Again, his mind went totally blank, only this time when it powered on, he and Constance weren’t kissing.

She pointed to the right. “After Dark is there. See?”

Without looking, he nodded, wondering why he’d stopped on the landing since they’d already discussed this inside, and when she had followed him out here. He recalled leaving the office alone.

“Have a good night,” she said, her expression longing, the rest of her in a hurry as she raced into the building.

Gabe followed her to the door but didn’t lower the handle when he heard the obvious clack of a deadbolt inside. Her locking him out.

Chapter Two

Heather sighed deeply. “This is all my fault.”

She, Zoe, and MJ had crowded into Becca’s office seconds before. Constance slouched on the needlepoint sofa, bummed by what hadn’t happened with Gabe. Or rather what couldn’t happen.

No way would she ever be able to date him, even though he’d wanted to go out with her as badly as she had with him. Talk about worlds colliding. He was a cop sworn to keep New Orleans safe and sane, while she was a voodoo priestess helping supernatural predators.

She muttered an oath.

Heather clasped her hands to her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t cause this,” Becca said, rubbing Heather’s back. “It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes mortals do wander inside.”

Zoe stopped pacing. As manager of the enforcing staff, she’d taken to dressing like an executive, her linen pantsuit and heels quite elegant, decidedly feminine. However, she hadn’t mellowed completely since falling in love with three demons who’d come from the depths of Hell, as she had. Her dark hair still smoked whenever she was upset.

Obviously frustrated, she batted away the vapor that smelled of sulfur. “Maybe we should start locking the front door.”

Becca shook her head. “If one of the weres arrives during a full moon, they have to get inside fast before a mortal sees their transformation.”

“Then there are the vamps,” MJ said.

Her initials were short for Mistress Jin, her genie name. Built better than a Victoria’s Secret model, she had gorgeous features, a caramel-colored complexion, violet eyes, and long black hair. She was also Heather’s lover, sharing the good fairy with Daemon, who used to be a satyr.

Stuff Constance knew mortals would never understand.

“You’re right,” Becca said to MJ. “The vamps could start draining the tourists dry if they can’t get in here right away for treatment. It’s settled. The door stays unlocked.”

Heather made a noise reminiscent of a wounded kitten.

“It’s okay,” Becca said. “As long as Constance is here to remove a mortal’s memories of this place, we’re okay.” She turned to her. “You did take out all of the detective’s, right?”

Constance stopped twisting a tress around her finger. After gathering her hair into a loose ponytail, she shoved it beneath her headdress.

Becca inched closer, her expression concerned. “Right? Wait—why weren’t you wearing your turban?”

The ends of Zoe’s hair really belched smoke now. “She’s never taken it off before. I figured it was because she was bald.”

“Zoe,” Heather said. “Be nice.”

“Hey, I’m being honest, not cruel.” She stared at Constance. “What happened between you and him?”

Everything. Nothing. Constance turned away from her friends who were beginning to act like a tribunal from the Inquisition. She loved them dearly but wanted to smack each on the side of the head for asking too many questions. “He doesn’t remember why he came here. I made sure of it. Twice.”

Becca sank to the sofa. “Why twice?”

“He saw one of the weres transforming outside,” Constance said to Zoe. “The were mentioned you specifically. Said your treatment hadn’t worked.”

Zoe lifted her chin. “I handled it.”

The poor guy was howling away even now.

“So everything’s good?” Becca asked.

Was she kidding? Gabe was beautiful, gainfully employed and, from the feel of it, hung like the proverbial horse. He was also interested in her—which rarely happened with guys—and she’d had to let him go.

Constance covered her eyes with her hand.

“Hey, hey.” Becca hugged her gently. “What’s the matter? Did he threaten you? Oh my God.” She sucked in a breath. “Is your headdress off because he attacked—”

“I kissed him first,” Constance said, dropping her hand. “I had to. I knew it would be the last time I ever saw him.”

Becca exchanged a glance with the others. “You actually kissed him?”

“A mortal?” Zoe asked.

“A good-looking man,” Constance said, her shoulders drooping even more. “I couldn’t help myself.”

No one said a word.

She sighed. “None of you get it, do you?”

“Get what?” Becca asked.

Constance rubbed her forehead. “You guys are so used to having someone, none of you have a clue what I go through every time I’m here.”

“At work?” MJ said.

What else? Constance spoke to the genie. “Look, I know you and Heather are into each other, and believe me, I think it’s great. You go, girls. But not here. Every single time I’m trying to talk business, you two are making goo-goo eyes at each other.” She turned to Heather. “Whenever I go to your desk, you’re shoving food in Daemon’s mouth and letting him suck your fingers clean.”

Heather went into a full body blush. “He’s always hungry. He’s a big guy.”

No kidding. The dude was hung almost as well as Constance suspected Gabe was.

Zoe turned to Heather. “It is disgusting watching you and Daemon get all icky with each other. You guys need to tone it down.”

“Are you kidding?” Constance asked Zoe. “I’m not one to complain and haven’t, but no one eats in the break room anymore since you and the Unholy Trio decided to make it your spare bedroom.”

The flames in Zoe’s eyes flared, hiding most of her dark irises. “Can I help it if Stefin, Anatol, and Taro are hot-blooded? They are demons, not choirboys. They want what they want when they want it.”

“Hon, that only works for two-year-olds. Your guys are what? Into their first or second centuries?”

Zoe bunched her shoulders. “They’re all in their prime. There’s nothing wrong with them.”

Except that they made Casanova look like a freaking eunuch. “I’m not saying there is. Hey, you’re luckier than I’ll ever be. I can’t even get one guy, much less three, to attack me in my office or the break room.”

Becca rubbed Constance’s back. “Things will get better.”

When? With who? Certainly not Gabe. “Do you remember the impact Eric had on you when you first met him?”

“We all do,” Zoe said and rolled her eyes. “Talk about someone being difficult to live with. So what if he was a god and she was a crappy witch, it didn’t mean—”

“Hold it,” Becca said. “Crappy witch?”

Zoe looked quickly embarrassed. “Sorry. Half-witch. I keep forgetting.”

Becca continued to frown. “My spells and potions work.”

No one commented.

“I’m getting better at them,” she muttered, “and this is about Constance, not me.”

Great. Everyone’s attention was back on her. “I’m not complaining,” Constance said. “I’m happy for all of you. I’d just like a little of it for myself. Sometimes it’s hard to spend my nights and days alone or go to award ceremonies where all of you have dates, some of you have several, and mine stands me up.” She lowered her face, trying to hide her sadness. “Is it a crime for me to want to be with somebody too?”

“No,” they all said at once.

Becca hugged Constance harder than she had before. “We want you to hook up with a great guy, really.”

“But not Gabe.”

Becca’s embrace loosened considerably. “He’s mortal. All of us are with other supernaturals.”

“Makes it easier,” MJ said.

“For you.” Constance regarded them. “None of the guys here have ever really been interested in me. Why do you think I have to come on so strong with them even though they’re not my type? If I waited for those jerks to make a move, I’d never see any action.” She turned to Zoe. “Remember when you asked me not to flirt with your guys because you were worried they might not want you? Well, sweetie, the way you felt then is the way I am all the freaking time.”

Zoe’s hair stopped smoking. She knelt by Constance’s side and rubbed her knee. “I had no idea.”

Heather stroked her turban. “Me either.”

“Same here,” MJ said, gripping her shoulder.

They loved her and it was nice, but not nearly enough, especially after meeting a guy like Gabe. Sure, he probably had crappy habits like everyone else. Maybe he whistled off-key, watched too many sports, failed to take out the garbage.

No one was perfect, though to Constance he was damn close.

As if Becca had read her thoughts or body language, she eased away and studied Constance. “Did he say what had brought him here?”

“He danced around it. All he admitted to—unless he was lying—was he’d heard things.”

Becca’s face drained of color. “Like what?”

“I have no idea.”

Becca turned to the others. “None of you ever talk shop with mortals, right?”

They offered a collective gasp. The same response one would expect from an elderly nun who’d been questioned about masturbating.

“Are all the permits in order?” Zoe asked.

Becca and the others looked at Heather, who backed away from their questioning gazes. “I filed everything exactly as I’m supposed to and paid all the fees. I even overpaid the IRS from my own checking account so they wouldn’t cause us any problems.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “Keep it up, sweetie, and you’ll go broke.”

“So? I don’t want anything happening to this place.”

Becca turned to Constance. “Tell us exactly what he said. Don’t leave anything out.”

Constance shared it all, except for her and Gabe’s deep, lingering kiss, how he’d made her want what she’d never have.

Becca rocked on the sofa, clearly agitated. “Maybe someone made a complaint about the noise.”

The weres, demons, and vamps were really going at it tonight, as if someone were yanking out their fingernails and teeth.

Becca spoke to Zoe. “You better keep the racket down.”

“Sure thing.” She smacked her fist into her palm. “I’ll have my guys take care of it immediately.”

“No broken bones,” Becca said. “I don’t want Heather leaving the reception area to heal anyone. We need her to keep an eye on the front door.”

“Say the word,” MJ said, “and I’ll fix this so we never have another problem.”

Heather looked concerned. “Seriously? No fooling around?”

Good question. In the past, MJ had granted wishes so literally, the recipients had regretted what they’d asked for.

Becca stopped chewing the side of her thumb. “Fix it in what way?”

“By installing security cameras and soundproofing the rooms.”

After a moment, Becca nodded. “Put one camera outside to show who’s coming up the stairs and to the door, then soundproof the rooms, nothing else. No making the neighbors or tourists go deaf so they can’t hear anything. Heather told me what you did at her place so Daemon’s heavy metal wouldn’t bother anyone.”

MJ shot Heather a look. The fairy pretended not to notice.

“I’ll be good,” MJ said, clearly pained to do so.

Becca nodded. “We’ll make this place quiet as a tomb, just in case the noise brought him here.”

“Do cops usually check out stuff like that?” Zoe asked.

“His badge showed he’s a detective,” Heather said.

Zoe lifted her eyebrows. “Like those dudes on
Law and Order SUV
?”

“SVU,” MJ said.

“Whatever.” Zoe waved new smoke away. “Detectives fight serious crimes. So why would he be coming here over a simple noise complaint?”

Becca spoke to Constance. “You’re absolutely certain you removed all of his memories of the business and his investigation, if there is one?”

Constance’s stomach rolled as she recalled doing so. “Yeah.”

Becca smile briefly before she looked worried again. “I know how lonely you are. I’ve felt exactly the same in the past. But you have to understand, a lot of supernaturals depend on us. If we weren’t here, where would they go to suppress their beasts?” Before Constance could answer, Becca plowed ahead. “We’re your family, just like you’ll always be ours. We need to protect each other. So please tell me when you removed his memories of the business, you also took out the ones involving you.”

Constance wanted to lie but couldn’t.

Several things happened at once. Heather pressed her fingers to her mouth, MJ shook her head, more smoke poured from Zoe’s hair, and Becca’s shoulders slumped.

Before things got too bad, Constance tried to reassure them. “Don’t worry. When Gabe asked me out for tonight, I said I had to work till dawn. When he asked about other nights, I told him I never have any free time, making it totally clear we won’t be seeing each other again.”

Everyone seemed relieved.

Listless with melancholy, Constance pushed to her feet and then stopped before leaving the room. When she turned, they looked at her expectantly.

“I’m all right,” she said. What choice did she have other than to accept the inevitable? “So are you guys. He won’t be back. He surely won’t be thinking of me again.”

* * * * *

Gabe’s table at After Dark gave him an excellent view of the building where Constance worked. Nursing his seltzer, he understood his need to see her again, hoping she’d come out for a breath of air, no matter how sticky and hot it was. What he couldn’t figure out was why he’d wanted to know about this nightspot.

It was no more than a half-ass touristy bar, which meant the music was fair, the drinks watered down, the food bland as hell, and the crowd too thick for his taste. Twentysomethings kept bumping into his table as they hurried through the throng, calling out or waving enthusiastically at their friends. The older crowd snapped so many pictures with regular cameras—not cell phones—he saw countless black spots from the flashes.

Frowning, he scanned as much as he could of the outside area. There were numerous shops, bars, restaurants, and people everywhere, as there always were in the French Quarter at night. So why had he gone to the second floor of Constance’s building and into her office to ask about this place? After Dark was practically across the street, big as fucking life.

More importantly, he was a New Orleans native whose parents still lived in the same parish where he’d grown up. As a cop, he knew this area intimately, even if new businesses cropped up all the time.

Gabe rubbed his temple and tried to relax, hoping he could figure it out. Something—possibly a memory—kept nagging him. However, each time the thought floated into his consciousness, it disappeared quickly without giving him an answer. Muttering an oath, he finally hauled out his notebook and flipped through the pages, searching for a clue about tonight. On his last entry, he’d scrawled what seemed to be a name. Looked like Bicco Sat or Satt.