PrimalFlavor (3 page)

She was a human living in a parish populated by shifters. If
she wanted him to shift and see him naked, who was he to deny her? Besides, he
couldn’t try to charm her into a friendly wrestling-slash-fuck match if he was
in animal form. With that thought in mind and his blood boiling hot for sex, he
shifted.

Colette, only daughter of Willis and Laurette-Marie
Robicheaux, knew it was a bad idea to tell a shifter to change to human. Not
because they would attack. She’d shoot the big bastard between the eyes before
he could say “rar”. No, it was a bad idea because he’d be naked when he lost
his fur. She knew it. She might have been a human in a world of shifters, but
everyone knew the basic facts. They were stronger and faster than “normal”
people. They had senses Homo sapiens had long abandoned in the quest for
technology and science. But there was one thing shifters
couldn’t
do and
that was keep their clothes when they went from one form to the other.
Depending on the size of their animal, their clothing would either rip or fall
off. When they shifted back, they were naked as the day they came into this
world. Some of her cousins turned furry when they wanted to, so it wasn’t as
though she didn’t know exactly what she was doing. Knew it and also knew it was
oh so wrong.

And she couldn’t wait.

When she’d seen the striped body fly through the clearing
when she shot at the feral hog, her heart nearly stopped beating. She knew who
this tiger was. She didn’t need him to shift into his sexy, muscled,
panty-wetting human form. But she wasn’t about to stop him.

It was a universally known truth in the entire tri-parish
area that Zachary Trahan was the sexiest tiger-shifting chef in the world. A
lot of women weren’t sure which was more important, the way he looked or how he
handled desserts. Colette would’ve scoffed over the claims she heard while she
was in Germantown, except she’d been to his shop once. Just once and she’d
fallen into instant lust with the baker.

So knowing how close he’d come to being shot by her while
she hunted on her family’s land nearly had her dropping her rifle. Only years
and years of gun safety had kept her from doing something stupid. She’d had to
take a minute, or more like ten, to calm her nerves. She knew she hadn’t shot
him. She was one of the best marksmen in her family. But a rogue wind, a shift
of his body, the slightest jerk of her arms could’ve left him either dead or
critically injured. He could’ve been killed. No more Zach the sexy tiger, no
more sweets from his bakery. Gone in a split second.

But he was there in his tiger form, his eyes trained in the
direction she’d just abandoned. And she’d just had to soak in his beauty. Yes,
beauty. For the most part, appreciating the beauty and the strength of the
animals she hunted extended to a kind of awe over the shifters who populated
the parish. How many times had she wished she could change into an animal, to
experience life in a completely different way? Too many to count. But there was
no way to turn a full human into a shifter, no magic pill, no exchange of bites
or saliva that would make it happen. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t admire
them anyway.

The way she was admiring Zach right now, her pussy heating
up as the man was revealed. Gold, black and white fur receded so quickly and
smoothly, she barely had time to blink before her gaze was caught by golden
skin and muscles.
Cher bon Dieu
, the man had some muscles. She
practically ate him up with her eyes, devouring every square inch revealed to
her like some kind of weird striptease. Not that she’d ever been to a strip
joint. There was a place her cousins’ wives had told her about in Texas where
muscled men took their clothes off, but she’d never been. Not for a lack of
trying though. She just hadn’t been able to convince her male relatives there
was a women-only hunting ground and she simply had to go.

But now, after seeing Zach Trahan in the nude, she wasn’t
sure any other man could measure up. Like, really measure up. Her gaze was
drawn down his rippled stomach—she’d never seen that before in real life, only
on television—to the long, hard length of his shaft. Heat raced through her
body, arrowing straight between her legs to warm her pussy and shoot up to her
face in a blush she was positive would set her hair on fire.

Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as though she were some
virgin. Despite the sheltered life she’d led in Bayou Ange, Colette had gone to
college just like her male cousins and she’d done her fair share of crazy
things, had unfurled her wings as a young woman and taken a couple of lovers.
But none of them had been built like this. She suddenly felt cheated, even as
she acknowledged if her first lover had been as big as Zach Trahan, she would’ve
been walking bow-legged for months. The tiger-shifter had a
bibette
that
would make a horse look twice. Realizing she was staring at it as though he were
a snake charmer, her gaze shot up his gorgeous, muscled torso to tangle with
sultry yellow eyes.

Thanking God she was downwind and he couldn’t smell the
hungry musk between her legs, she pretended she was facing a game warden and
let her “I don’t know anything” mask fall in place. The sexy twist to his lips
was almost a smirk and it told her that he knew better.
Damn.

She tightened her hold on the rifle. “What are you doing on
my family’s land?” she demanded.

Instead of answering, he stretched, lifting his arms over
his head and elongating his body. She told herself it was a natural reaction to
let her gaze skim over him again. And it was perfectly normal for her stare to
linger on his impressive groin. What would something that size feel like moving
inside her? What kind of lover was he? Did he like to take his time, or did he
like it fast and hard? Her nipples tightened. A quick glance up at his face
showed he’d definitely noticed her body’s reaction since his eyes had dropped
to her chest.

Good Lord. “What are you doing here?”

He dropped his arms to his sides, adopting a relaxed pose
that should have looked ridiculous since he was buck naked, but Zach Trahan
seemed as composed as he would if he were fully clothed. Colette bit back a
snarl of envy. She avoided looking in mirrors unless she absolutely had to, and
never when she was naked. Yet in her twenty-eight years, one thing she’d
learned about men from watching her cousins was that they had absolutely no
shame.

How many times had they whipped it out to pee when she was
on the hunt with them? As far as they were concerned, she was one of the guys
even if she had to squat to pee. But that wasn’t all. Getting drunk and
streaking around the swamps on their all-weekend hunts was nothing to them. She
knew from growing up with all boys that most men were oblivious to the little
thing called modesty. However, she’d think being buck naked in front of a
stranger would affect them somehow.

But there was no self-consciousness in Zach’s gaze and his
impressive dick didn’t wilt beneath her study. If anything, it seemed to grow
another inch. And she was staring at it again.
Have to stop staring at his
junk.
Her mama would beat her ass if she knew she was gawking at a naked
man’s groin, no matter how sexy he was. Her mama would cluck and find something
for him to wear. But the last thing Colette wanted to do was cover up a single
inch of naked Zach.

“I was hunting,” he said after a few more seconds, his voice
dragging her gaze from his cock. She hadn’t realized she’d been looking. Again.
“And you stole my kill.”

Colette was as hot-tempered as any Robicheaux over certain
things. She hated cruelty in any form, having been known to take down men twice
her size if she caught them abusing an animal. She hated bullies. She also took
her sense of honor very seriously. No one called her a liar or a cheat, or a
thief in this case. Ever. Having the man she’d been openly infatuated with for
nearly a year say she stole anything from him was like having a bucket of ice
water thrown over her during a heat wave.

The rifle went back up, her ire lending her tiring arms
renewed strength. She wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long though. She
either had to shoot him or send him on his way. And after that accusation she
was leaning more toward the former. “A kill you tried to make on private
property,” she told him in a cold voice that would have warned any one of her
relatives she was about to lose her control.

The tiger had no sense of self-preservation because his
smirk became a full-blown grin that would’ve made her weak at the knees if she
hadn’t been on the verge of a volcanic explosion. “About that… You’re not quite
what I expected from what I’ve heard about the Robicheauxs.”

It was as though he wanted to die a very slow death. Another
quirk of hers, one not many people ever tweaked, was her defensiveness about
her family. Oh, she knew exactly what everyone in the parish thought of the
residents of Bayou Ange. Most of the time she could ignore the comments, the
mockery and condensation when they spoke to or of the Robicheaux, Brule,
Boudlache and Gautreaux families who inhabited their small community. They were
called backwards. Kayaks, a derogatory term for people who lived so far down
the bayou they may as well be another species of Cajun. She and her cousins and
brothers had heard it all applied to them, but especially to their fathers.

If the people in Pointe-Aux-Chat Parish only knew over fifty
percent of the “backwoods coonasses” from Bayou Ange had college degrees, maybe
they’d realize the err of their assumptions. But her parents always told
Colette not to worry what other people thought. It wasn’t their fault their
mamas didn’t raise them right. For the most part, she was able to ignore the
snide remarks. Not right now though, not with him.

She flipped the safety on her rifle. “Why is that? Because I’m
wearing shoes?” she sneered at him, finally well over her lust. Thank God she
hadn’t made more of a fool of herself. He was so not worth the screaming
orgasms she gave herself. Colette vowed to fantasize about someone else from
now on.

One of his thick, black eyebrows rose and his smile faltered.
“I’m sorry?”

“You didn’t expect to see a Robicheaux wearing shoes? You
didn’t expect one of us Kayaks to have the ability to formulate a complete sentence?
Or know words with more than two syllables? What?” She let each question snap
like a whip until his smile was completely gone and a frown furrowed the smooth
skin between his eyebrows. “You know what? I don’t want to know. Just get your
ass off my property before I put a hole in it. And trust me, I don’t miss.”

This was not going as planned. Zach stared at the suddenly
pissed-off Cajun woman in front of him and tried to figure out a way to soothe
her and work his way into her bed. Because this Robicheaux woman in high temper
was hotter than the ghost chili peppers he’d been trying to incorporate in one
of his recipes. Her eyes nearly glowed with her anger and her cheeks had
darkened. He was almost a hundred percent positive she’d started out flushed
from arousal and embarrassment, but that quickly changed to anger over some
imagined slight.

Which brought him back to why she would be angry with him.
He hadn’t asked her what her favorite position was. Hell, with the way all the
blood had left his head to pool in his dick, he wasn’t capable of much thinking
at the moment anyway. The instant her little nipples stood out in sharp relief
against the smooth cotton of her t-shirt, his mind went blank. He hadn’t even
known what he said to her to piss her off. How could he when all he could
imagine was finding out how much of a handful her small tits would be for him.
Would she fill his palms? Or would he be able to cover her completely?

Those had been the images dancing in his mind. At least
until she lifted that damn rifle again, hiding her perky, friendly nipples from
his line of sight. And yeah, he had a one-track mind at the moment. It’d been
at least a month since the last time he had time for anything but a fast jerk-off
session. And this woman, this human woman with a fiery, fierce personality
wouldn’t expect him to mark her and live happily ever after or some crazy shit
like that. A marking was a solemn bond between mates, a promise of fidelity and
forever. Humans didn’t do the whole marking thing, meaning if a shifter ever
tied up with one of them, the human could go on their merry way. No sane person
hooked up with humans for that very reason.

Since he had no plans to marry or mate at any point in his
sane life, Zach wondered if he’d maybe been a little hasty ignoring all the
come-hither glances from human women. If they were looking for a little rough,
casual sex, he could do that. Especially with this woman.

“Let’s just relax,” he said with a calm he didn’t quite
feel. His tiger figured this was a perfect moment to display his dominance over
her. It urged Zach to spring at her, tackle her to the ground and fuck the
anger right out of her. His balls ached at the thought even though his logical
mind said that was considered sexual assault. “I think we’re just having a
misunderstanding.” He gave her his most charming smile.

Her eyes narrowed on him. “So on top of trespassing on
private property and insulting my family, you think I’m crazy?”

For the first time in his life, Zach was stunned speechless.
His tiger scrambled, trying to figure out what she meant. He should have been
used to not understanding females, which was why he limited his contact with
them to fucking. He fucked a woman, made sure she screamed with pleasure, found
his own and was out the door shortly after. It was a system that worked to
lower his chances of becoming entangled in the web of male helplessness that
caught so many of his friends. One after the other, he’d watched them tie
themselves in knots over their mates, from the start of the attraction to the
mating and beyond. There was no understanding the female mind and from what he’d
heard of human females, they were the worst of the lot. Which failed to explain
his sudden need to get this one in bed. Or take her right here on the ground.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he said slowly.

The rifle lowered a bit. “You’re talking to me as though you
think I’m crazy,” she accused.

Zach abruptly dropped the charm. “Woman, I don’t know what
crawled up your ass, but I’m trying to talk to you. Now you can either tell me
what I said wrong, or shoot me.”

He really hadn’t expected her to choose the last option. He
just counted himself lucky she was either a worse shot than she boasted to be,
or couldn’t bring herself to actually put a hole in him. The rifle barrel
dropped and a nearly soundless expulsion of air was all he heard before the
dirt two inches in front of his toes kicked up to slap against his shins. Zach’s
jaw dropped in shock even as little Zach gave a jerk of excitement.

He was a sick fucker. Sick, sick, sick because he should not
have found being shot at by a tough, possibly insane Cajun woman the least bit
sexy. But he did. God help him, he and his tiger were just about frothing at
the mouth with lust. He had no idea what her name was, or if she needed
medication for that chip on her shoulder, but he knew he needed to find out as
much about her as he could.

“Colette?” A male called out in the distance, breaking his
lust-induced daze. “Cher, where you at?”

He appreciated learning her name, but would have preferred
learning it from her. Zach’s tiger growled, possessiveness nearly overwhelming
him. It was a struggle to keep from shifting right then and there. It hadn’t
even occurred to him that she might not be single, that she might not be his
for the taking.

The thought echoed around his head and he backtracked. He
didn’t want her permanently or anything. He just wanted her in every position
physically possible and some of those that weren’t if he could find a good
pulley system. Hearing another man calling for her, using a familiar endearment
pissed him off more than fucking up an easy recipe. He wanted to go find the
bastard and rip his head off.

She lost some of her anger, the aggression and tension
easing from her slowly as though she realized he wasn’t going anywhere. Then
she spoke. “They won’t be as nice when they get here.” The Cajun Ice Princess
voice taunted his tiger to warm her up. “Go on and get out of here. They won’t
miss on purpose if they decide to shoot you.”

He could hear a good-sized party of what he supposed were
her fellow hunters, probably her family and a possible husband walking toward
them, but he didn’t move. “You shoot at every man you meet, Colette, or just
the ones you like?”

It was a calculated gamble to unsettle her as much as she
unsettled him. Her lips softened and parted, a pink tide of color sweeping up
her neck to settle in her cheeks. The rifle dropped some and yup, there were
pert, hard little nipples pressing against her shirt.

“W-what?” she stammered in a voice that wasn’t nearly as
frigid as it had been before. “No.”

His tiger purred. She might not want to be attracted to him,
whether it was because she didn’t like shifters or some other reason, but she
was. He might be upwind of her, unable to catch any hint of her feminine musk,
yet his animal half was an expert at reading body language. He didn’t need to
smell her attraction. It was written on her face, in her dilated eyes, flushed
cheeks and the rapidly beating pulse in her neck. In the expression that
twisted with want and anger and frustration.

The party crashers were coming closer and he knew his time
with her was coming to an end. For now. He had every intention of finding out
more about this lone Robicheaux female, more specifically if she was married or
not, so he could pursue her. It was a hunt of an entirely different kind, but
one he and his tiger were positive would end successfully with her pussy
clamped around his dick as she screamed his name.

“Colette, where you at,
bêbe
?” the male voice, mature
with a thick Cajun accent called out again.

She turned her head slightly in the direction of the call.

It was all the opening he needed. Using the strong muscles
of his legs that gave him such an impressive jump, Zach launched himself at his
newest prey. Her head jerked back around, her pretty eyes wide with shock, her
mouth falling open and then they were going down. He could’ve been a complete
jerk and let her take the brunt of their weight, but again, Zach’s tiger wanted
to make even this show of dominance and intimidation easy on her.

He wrapped his arms around her lean body and twisted
slightly as they headed for the ground so he took her weight. She’d jerked the
gun up at the last minute, sandwiching it between their bodies, the barrel warm,
but it was the surprisingly small woman cradled in his arms who heated him up
the most.

Finally—fucking finally, he could smell her and his dick
gave a jerk of excitement despite being used as a gun rest since that was
exactly where the butt of her rifle was. His tiger considered that a small
price to pay to have her this close, her arousal making his head swim. He
closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, a purr of arousal and contentment rumbling
in his chest. Sweet vanilla musk with a hint of some kind of spice he couldn’t
identify made his mouth water with the urge to taste her thick cream at the
heart of that scent.

For a moment, she was perfectly still although he could feel
the frantic pounding of her heart against his chest. The tight buds of her
nipples poked at him through the fabric of her shirt. Their bodies had aligned
perfectly, his thigh nestled against the juncture of her legs, the warmth of
her pussy scorching him through her jeans.

He opened his eyes to see her gaping at him with a shocked
expression. Beautiful eyes with deep, black pupils that dilated as he returned
her stare, letting her see the intent on his face. Because he had to kiss her.
Despite knowing the men in her family, one of them possibly a lover—his tiger
snarled at the thought—were coming closer, he had to have one taste.

She sucked in a ragged breath and Zach made his move.

Velvety soft, her lips cushioned his in a kiss that held him
transfixed. All it took was a single touch and he was a goner. The lust was
still there, riding him hard, demanding he strip her naked and take her, but it
was held back by something stronger. Something foreign that wanted to cherish
this moment, to extend the game. He lifted his head slightly, tilted it to the
left and kissed her the way he’d originally intended, catching her words with
his mouth, his sudden strike knocking her hat back.

This time though, it wasn’t a chaste meeting of lips. This
time, he kissed her the way he’d wanted to from the minute he saw the
sugar-coated color of her mouth and the almost doll-like shape of her lips. He
kissed her, his tongue parting those plump contours and surging forward. He
didn’t bother holding back his groan of…groan of, what was it? Relief to
finally know her taste? Pleasure because she tasted as sweet and spicy as he’d
believed? Or excitement because her tongue met his in tentative greeting?

When her body softened against him, molding to his
nakedness, Zach knew it was a combination of everything. His tiger pulled back
slightly, letting him take the lead, knowing this was a job for the man. The
cat could mark the female later, keeping her the way it wanted to, but right
now they needed to gentle her, to show her how good it would be between them. The
man twisted their bodies, rolling her beneath him without breaking the kiss,
her legs falling open. The scent of her musk grew stronger, headier. Zach moved
over her, settling his body in the cradle of her hips, shuddering when her legs
hooked around the backs of his.

There. This was where he wanted her. If her clothes weren’t
in the way, he could take them both to heaven. Just a little shift and slide and
pure bliss. Their kiss turned fierce. The rifle rolled away from them when she
lifted her arms to wrap around his shoulders, the fine muscles of her body tense.
Then she was rolling him over. He wasn’t sure how she did it since she shouldn’t
have been able to, but he found himself on the ground with her on top, her hips
rocking against him.

Holy fuck. He let out a growl of need, his hands gripping
the surprisingly soft curves of her ass and grinding her down. He had to get
her jeans off and dive inside that tight little—

“Colette!”

She moved a lot faster than he would’ve thought a human
could, leaping to her feet and pulling her hat back into place before he could
grab her and refuse to let go. She muttered something under her breath, her
movements nearly frantic as she wiped her arm across her lips and patted
herself down, dusting away the leaves and dirt. Zach glared at her heart-shaped
ass when she bent over to pick up her rifle, his tiger snarling.

She did not just wipe away our kiss.

Yeah, Zach wasn’t too happy about that either. Women didn’t
just walk away from him, especially not human women who were so wet their
arousal practically humidified the air around him. His dick gave a little leap
of excitement. Okay, so he kind of liked that she was all business as she
started toeing away the evidence of their tussle. Until she kicked some dirt
over him.

He glared at her, but she didn’t seem moved despite the honeyed
scent telling him she wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended to be. The man
shouted again, rousing Zach’s anger. He tensed, ready to charge the trees to
find the fucker. He didn’t know who the hell it was, but that bastard was going
to eat it. He’d never felt so violent and sexually frustrated and fuck, his
balls ached with the need to come inside Colette’s tight cunt, to feel her
squeeze him as she—

Then she said, “My dad and cousins will kill you if they
find you here.
Tu va.
”

Zach relaxed again, stacking his hands under his head,
ignoring her order to leave. Okay, cousins and fathers he could handle. “You do
like me,” he couldn’t help but tease.

He had no doubt her relatives were packing enough weapons to
take over a small country, yet he didn’t feel overly inclined to leave. It did
kill some of his desire and his balls still hurt, but he could think again.
Sort of. Colette Robicheaux had knocked him for a big loop. Especially after
that amazingly hot kiss. He had needs and so did she. Needs they could both
satisfy if she sat on his face.

His tiger purred. “I knew you liked me.” The words came out
as a barely disguised crow of triumph.