Prince of Shadows (15 page)

“Yeah, you did. I won’t forget it.”

They’d come up to Turow, who, as usual, was standing at the fringe. Without speaking, Cale reached up to grip the back of his head, drawing it down to bump brows. Disconcertion registered briefly in the silvery eyes.

“Thank you. I owe you my life. Whatever you want.”

Turow straightened to put that reserved distance back between them. “I didn’t do it to have you in my debt.”

“Then why?”

“Because you’re my brother.”

The solemn words set Cale back. Perplexed, then with understanding, he replied, “I plan to be a better one.”

Then there was Rico, who regarded him with a mocking smile. “You know, now that you’re the top gunslinger in our clan, every idiot trying to make a name will want a piece of you.”

“Are you going to be one of them?”

A wider grin. “Maybe.”

“Want to stand with me?”

“Maybe.”

They bumped elbows, and Cale moved to where Wes was standing outside Bram’s closed office door. Wes nodded to their siblings. “Fan club?”

Cale shrugged, mystified by the sense of inclusion never extended to him before. “Tomorrow they’ll be back to trying to advance by stepping over my corpse.”

Wesley laughed but didn’t look convinced.

Cale studied the closed door. Usually, he was on the other side of it. “What’s going on in there?”

“Don’t know. Something big. Jamie brought some news to the old man that he didn’t like.”

A distraction from his own transgressions wasn’t a bad thing, but Cale couldn’t shake his uneasiness as he helped himself to a cup of coffee. He found Colin at his side.

“Heard you were down on the desert yesterday, cozying up to the Lessers. Drumming up support for a coup?”

“You know me,” Cale drawled. “I’m just a nice guy.”

A snort of a laugh. “There’s nice, and then there’s you with the daughter of the People’s Saint, handing out favors like you intend to make good on them. What’s up with that, bro?”

“Maybe I grew a conscience and started thinking they deserve better than we’ve always given them.”

Colin chuckled. “Did you suddenly get religion, or are you just trying to get laid?” The quick cut of Cale’s glare had him putting up his hands. “Oooh. Sorry. Your female better give it up soon before you nicey-nice our loyal subjects into thinking they’re as good as we are. Then who would we have to kiss our divinely royal asses and do our dirty work for us?”

Cale continued to stare holes in him until Colin laughed again and put a hand on his shoulder. His tone sobered. “If you need me, call on me, Cale.”

“I will.” Then softly, “Thank you.”

Colin grinned. “That’s something I never thought I’d hear. Cale Terriot thanking anyone for anything. Suits you almost as well as that Dolce . . . my king.”

Before Cale could reply, the office door opened, and all attention focused there. Bram glanced about and called, “Wesley,” then almost as an afterthought, “Cale. Join me.”

Bram’s private office was all dark wood and hobnailed black leather. There was no art on the walls, just a patriarch’s vanity paraded in framed portrait photos of his sons. The shots were taken right after each had sworn his allegiance, when those flashy diamonds glittered like stars in ears and eyes.

Cale’s picture hung crookedly, the glass shattered by Bram’s fist the same day it had been hung. Cale didn’t need to look at it to feel the reminder. He was a disappointment forever, as disgraced as the boy who’d curled in a fetal position, dry-heaving on the rug at his feet, beaten so severely he’d had to crawl past the stoic row of his brothers waiting outside. No one had dared help him then.

Cale never entered this room without the taste of bile filling his mouth or clammy sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Today was no exception; he remained standing by the door while Wes settled in the second chair in front of Bram’s massive desk next to James.

James smiled in greeting and reached out to Cale. Puzzled, Cale stepped forward and glanced down at the sunglasses James pressed into his hand. They were the pair he’d worn during the Gauntlet. The frame was grooved by the edge of James’s arrow. Wordlessly, Cale tucked them into his jacket and returned to his place by the door. Good-natured reminder or subtle threat? He wasn’t sure, but he’d take the warning to be watchful.

“There’s trouble in New Orleans,” Bram announced without preamble. “The MacCreedy bitch has taken refuge with Savoie. Apparently, her brother is now heading up part of his organization there. Foster was unable to breach their security to bring her back to face judgment for killing one of our men. Two nights ago, James was able to trace a call made from her phone to a more accessible area.”

Bram glanced at Cale, who never blinked at the news. Brigit had called Kendra. When had that happened? She’d never said a word to him. “I was handling that,” he stated. “Why wasn’t I told?”

“You were unavailable, brother,” James replied smoothly. “So I handled it for you.”

It just kept getting worse.

“James sent more men to rendezvous with Foster. None of them has checked back in. We have to assume they’re dead.”

“What are we going to do?” Wes asked, anger roughening his voice. “That can’t go unanswered.”

“We don’t know what’s happened yet,” Cale countered. “There could be other reasons for their silence. We should wait until we know for sure. Once we move, there’ll be no going back.”

Wes gaped at him. “Are you saying we do
nothing
? That they kill our people and we let it go?”

“No. I’m saying all we know is that one man is dead, presumably killed by a female who had no reason to fight and run away. We have men searching for her in another clan’s territory without their knowledge. If we send in more men before we have the facts, it’s an act of unprovoked aggression.”

“So what?” Wes growled. “We’re not afraid of them. They’re outcasts, strays. They have no true leader, just this Max Savoie, who shows up out of nowhere and gets them to rally around him. They’re disorganized now. They won’t expect an attack. We’d have no trouble taking them.”

“And then what? Once we cross into their territory, you think the Guedrys won’t notice? You think Rueben won’t grab the opportunity to swarm in and cut us down in the crossfire?”

“Cale’s right.” James spoke up suddenly. “A war on two fronts wouldn’t be survivable.”

“And what makes you both so sure the Guedrys would care what we do?” Wes argued.

“Because if they made a move on New Orleans, we’d be all over them,” Cale told him. “Neither of our families can afford to ignore the strategic importance, especially with Savoie’s group controlling the mouth of the river. They’d have to step in. It’s simple survival.”

“So we do nothing,” Bram interjected quietly, “and let our right to enforce justice be stripped away?”

“Never.” That single word rumbled with earthquake intensity as Cale’s mood flared dangerously. “No one takes anything that belongs to us, not our rights, not our possessions, not our honor. Not ever. And if they think otherwise, I’ll lead our people across their borders, and they’ll feel the bite of our House. If the Guedrys interfere, we’ll take them on right down to our last man, and we won’t go quietly. They’ll find that Terriots die hard.”

Bram’s smile spread, slow and satisfied. “Just as I’d expect you to. And if this means going up against your mate’s family?”

No hesitation. “That would be between me and my mate, and it wouldn’t involve my loyalty to my clan.”

They locked stares, then Bram nodded. “What next?”

“We have connections in New Orleans,” Cale began, “in the bayou, in their police department, in their city council.”

“I’ll reach out to them,” James offered. “Discreetly. If our men were killed, I’m sure they didn’t go quietly, either.”

“See to it, James.” Bram turned to his other son. “Wesley, make sure our people are ready for battle.”

“We’re always ready, my king. It’s what we do best.”

Wesley and James stood, waiting for their father to pull himself up out of his chair. His movements were labored, but neither showed the disrespect of trying to assist him.

“Good. I want to know something by tomorrow at the latest. Cale, stay for a minute.”

Cale stepped away from the door to let his brothers pass. Neither would meet his eyes, as certain as Cale was that a swift, merciless punishment was coming. After the door closed behind them, he stood unmoving as Bram approached.

“I’ve been hearing things, Cale,” he began quietly.

“What things, my king?”

“What things?” His big hand closed about the knot in Cale’s tie, using it to slam him back against the door and hold him pinned there with knuckles pressed into his son’s throat. “You will
stop
what you’re doing. Your purpose is
not
to coddle your female or ingratiate yourself to the Lessers or indulge your bloodlust for their amusement. You will
not
encourage division among your brothers. And you will
not
have my crown until I am ready to surrender it. Your purpose is to serve me in any manner I command. Or have you forgotten that?”

“No, sir. I am yours.” The words were automatic. Cale’s expression registered nothing but impassive stillness.

“Have you forgotten that punishment for disobedience falls not only upon you but upon those closest to you?”

That bitter taste rose in the back of Cale’s mouth, almost choking him. “I haven’t forgotten, my king.”

“You’ve yet to mark your mate. I suggest you do so before she’s used as a political prisoner, and not kindly.”

Cale’s breathing strangled to a stop, but he continued to stare stoically into his father’s blazing eyes, giving nothing beyond blank obedience.

“I trust I don’t need to remind you how to take a willful female to task so she’ll cause you no further embarrassment.”

“No, you do not.”

“Then take care of my business for me, not your own. If I have to correct you again, one of your lovely ladies will have to pay the price. I’ll let you choose which one. Understand?”

“Yes, my king.”

Cale went rigid as his father leaned close. His breath sucked in as a cold kiss pressed to his cheek. “I am proud of you, my son. You’ll make a fine king.”

There were times in his life when Cale would have died happily upon hearing those words. This wasn’t one of them.

“Thank you, Father. I won’t disappoint you again.”

“Go do what you need to do.”

Cale strode from that room that smelled of fear and pain and death, crossing the hall with brisk aggressive purpose, acknowledging no one. On his father’s business.

fifteen

As she’d promised, Kendra stuck close to the freshly widowed Sadie Terriot. Her heart broke for the devastated young woman, who had no defense against thoughtless gossip. A mate’s wake wasn’t the time to speculate on cause of death or suggest the most advantageous hookups.

She’d told Cale that she wanted to make friends with her fellow clan females, but as he’d warned, instead of being warm and inviting, these waters teemed with beautifully dressed, solicitously smiling sharks.

Like the Terriot men, the women were constantly aware of their position in the clan’s hierarchy. Kendra lacked the glamorous and experienced Sylvia’s armor of self-confidence, but her natural poise and quiet charm quickly polarized the room into two vastly different sections. To Sylvia’s apparent chagrin, the continental drift produced clichés of even size.

Kendra discovered that many of the clan’s females, weary of the social scrapping, were eager to embrace her. Among them, she found a warmth and sincerity that reminded her of the affection between her mother and Cale’s. A pity that these gracious women felt so intimidated by sharper tongues that they remained in the silent background instead of becoming the moral strength sadly lacking in the House of Terriot. More the mystery, since she’d stood at Sadie’s side, they seemed to be looking to her to be their voice.

Once Sadie announced that she needed to go lie down, Rosie fitted herself up against Kendra with all the latest dish. Hearing the vicious spin placed on her every action made Kendra pale as Rosie confided the worst.

Supposedly, she’d manipulated the impulsive Michael into the position that had gotten him killed. It was hinted that she’d withheld a permanent bond from her powerful mate in order to push him into a coup to gain the crown. It was also rumored she was a spy from the New Orleans clan, feeding them information right under Cale’s nose. She’d apparently been very busy! These weren’t snide little comments meant to hurt her feelings. They were explosive accusations that could result in her death.

Had Cale heard them? Would he believe them?

Kendra went to work on damage control by going straight to the source. She didn’t have her cousin’s skill for verbal bloodletting, so she sought her own strengths.

Sylvia masked her surprise behind a welcoming smile as her rival took a seat beside her on one of the low couches scattered about the big room. Kendra extended a gesture of truce, her words quiet so as not to be overheard. “I’d like to apologize, Sylvia. I never meant to hurt you. I had no idea your heart was set on Cale.”

Sylvia stared at her unblinkingly for a frozen moment, then she covered her shock with a smooth smile as she ignored the overture. “What a terrible day for the family, to lose two young men to such tragic circumstances.” She patted Kendra’s hand. “And poor Cale must be so distressed to be the cause of it.”

Kendra blinked up at her. “The cause? Of course he’s devastated by the loss of his brothers, but why would he blame himself for their deaths? He had no choice except to defend himself against Michael’s attack. And he almost lost his own life, along with Derrick.”

Sylvia made a solicitous noise. “Indeed. But such convenient losses for someone in his position.”

Chilled by the intimation, Kendra replied, “He’s determined to find out who might have something to gain by tainting that boy’s water. Someone who had knowledge of herbs, I suspect.” She let Sylvia mull that over before adding with a slight edge, “I’m just as determined to find out who tried to harm my mate. They’ll find me as protective of him as he is of me.”

Behind the innocence of her uplifted gaze, she let the other woman see a hint of accusation and warning.

Intrigued, the cluster of females within earshot grew quiet and edged closer.

Sylvia’s posture stiffened, but she was far too good in the verbal combat trenches to give any quarter. Her attack was swift and brutal. “It’s usually the one closest to the tragedies who has the most to gain,” she purred. “Of course I’m not suggesting Cale has an agenda. We all know how dedicated he is to his father’s every whim. Michael and Derrick were no threat to him. Were they perhaps a threat to you, my dear?”

“What on earth would I have to gain?” Kendra gasped, alarmed by where the conversation was going. “I have everything I desire already.”

“Do you? Then why aren’t you wearing the mark of your prince? The fact is, you’re not even sleeping with him. Or has that changed since we last spoke?”

Kendra sat stunned, damning herself with her silence.

“Is there some reason Cale is your mate in name only?”

The truth wasn’t as damaging as the allegation Sylvia was about to make, that Kendra wasn’t sleeping with him because she was in love with someone outside the clan. Someone in New Orleans whose family had rebelled against them.

“He’s being respectful of my inexperience.” She didn’t have to force a blush. She reddened all the way to her toes.

Behind Sylvia’s smirk was deeper jealousy as she mused, “Cale Terriot shy about deflowering his mate? How very sweet. And how unlike the Cale we know. Perhaps we can help. Among us here, we have a wealth of experience you can draw upon.”

Kendra went cold and still as the older woman turned to address the others.

“Who here has had sex with Cale?” Sylvia’s hand went up, and she waited expectantly for the majority of the others to join her before slyly telling Kendra, “See, a wide pool from whom you can take notes.”

Kendra sat paralyzed with humiliation. Even some of the bonded females had put up their hands.

“Anything you’d like to share, ladies, to let our virginal friend know what she can expect from her prince? Any hints or observations to help ease her way into intimacy?”

“Don’t talk,” one chimed up. Others laughed, getting that joke.

“Definitely no talking. Then he’d have to acknowledge you were there.”

“Don’t expect any foreplay.”

“Foreplay? How about not even a ‘thank you, ma’am’ to go with the slam-bam?” More laughter.

Cringing with embarrassment, Kendra asked, “If he’s so unsatisfying, why have all of you been there?”

Sylvia looked at her as if she were simple. “He’s the prince who could be king. Besides, he’s not
bad,
is he, girls?” After collecting a round of lusty chuckles, she explained, “He gets things done, but if you’re looking for personal involvement, you’d get more from something with batteries.”

“I have no complaints,” drawled Fawn, Stephen Terriot’s bonded mate, “but I always got the impression that anything on hands and knees would be fine with him as long as she didn’t expect conversation or, God forbid, kissing. Has he ever kissed any of you?” After a unanimous chorus of no’s, she sighed. “The things he could probably do with that mouth.”

Lots of snickering as Sylvia summarized, “Like squeezing a rocket between your legs. Hang on for the ride. It’s wild, it’s fast, but sizzle, boom, done.”

Looking from Sylvia’s meanly smug face to the rest of their amused and aroused expressions, Kendra said softly, “So, all I have to do is put a bag over my head, assume the position, and not make any noise?”

“That’s pretty much it, dear.” Sylvia smiled. “Someday your prince will come, but it will usually be first and without a lot of romancing . . .” Her words drifted off as she focused on a distant spot. Her smile grew malicious.

Kendra twisted to see Cale in the doorway. He locked stares with Sylvia as he called, “Ready, baby? I finished my business quicker than I expected. Apparently a well-known and much discussed bad habit of mine.”

As the other females chuckled, licked their lips, and called “Hello, Cale” flirtatiously, Kendra bolted up from the couch. Forcing a smile for the others, she murmured, “I enjoyed our talk. Thank you for welcoming me into your group.”

Cale watched her approach, his expression inscrutable. The possessive way he placed his hand at the small of her back encouraged her to look up. Watching his eyes warm from their narrowed annoyance, she found the courage to whisper, “Cale, kiss me like you want me.”

No questions or hesitation. He bent slowly. Kendra could hear a collective inhalation from the group as his mouth settled over hers for a deliciously tender press. Just as she began to ease away, his hand slid down to clamp on to her ass for a squeeze that lifted her on her toes while he engaged her tongue in a quick hungry tussle.

His fingertips grazed beneath her jaw as he leaned back. “I don’t have to pretend to want you. Is there anything else I can do for you? Maybe find a paper bag?”

She flushed. “No. That was everything I needed.”

Cale smiled and tucked her inside the protective circle of his arm. Then he bared his teeth at the sly-eyed females. “Nice to see you again, ladies. Always a pleasure.”

“So,” he began with a hint of amusement as they walked along the path to their lodge, his arm curled about her, “how was your chat? Make any chummy lifelong bonds?”

“With a few. The rest were vicious, catty, and awful. But you knew that.”

“Oh, yeah. Like I said, I know them better than you do.”

“So it would seem.” She could feel his questioning look but didn’t acknowledge it. “And how was your meeting?”

“I’m alive, which pretty much says it all.” He opened the door to their accommodations and followed her in. “I don’t want to talk about that. I want to talk about getting to know each other.”

Kendra gave a start and swallowed nervously. She’d envisioned their discussions by shadowed firelight, not in the revealing glare of late morning. As Cale went to the wet bar to retrieve a couple of mineral waters, she anxiously surveyed the furniture grouping in the living room. The bedroom was completely out of the question. Like Cale had said, there was trusting and there was stupid. He took the choice from her by setting the waters on the café table and pulling out a chair for her. As she settled stiffly into the seat, he dragged the second one around so they were facing each other with no barrier between them except less than a yard of neutral distance. He regarded her with a relaxed smile and a direct stare.

“I know it’s ladies first, but I’d like to start. Feet.” He put out his hands, palms up, and beckoned with his fingers. When she gingerly lifted her foot, he cupped her heel and slowly unzipped and eased off her ankle boot, then gestured for the other. When he had both her feet resting on his knees, he rubbed his palms over the tops of them, his rough skin snagging lightly on her stockings.

“Can I take these off you?” Not “Will you take them off
for
me.” Holding her gaze steadily in his, he reached under her full skirt to the waistband of her panty hose and peeled them down, letting his hands graze from hip to thigh to knee to calf until he’d pulled them free. Kendra had been holding her breath and released it in a shiver. She gave him a quizzical look when he draped the hose around his neck.

“Just in case I need another tourniquet someday,” he explained with a small smile. He arranged her heels in his lap and began a slow massage of her arches and insteps. His hands were warm, his touch divine. “Comfortable?”

“That feels wonderful,” she all but purred.

“Good. Ask your question.”

His grip felt natural and unpressuring, a good start for their explorations because it didn’t put her on guard. Encouraged by the mood, she jumped right in. “Is there any other female on this mountain you haven’t slept with, or am I the only one?” A bit of snappishness crept into her tone despite her best efforts.

Cale grinned wide. “Technically, you’re the only one I
have
slept with. Around them, I’d be afraid that if I closed my eyes, I’d wake up to find my credit cards stolen and my balls in a glass on the nightstand. I
have
had sex with most of them. I’m sure they were happy to tell you that. Where do I rank on their ‘Terriot Princes We’ve Fucked’ scale? Somewhere between ‘Inconsiderate Bastard’ and ‘When Are You Going to Call Me’?”

His unapologetic manner made her bristle. “You used them.”

A big laugh. “Baby, you think any of them were asking for meaningful relationships by grabbing my crotch every time I walked by? They didn’t want to talk about books they’d read or take walks in the rain. The only thing they wanted was a hard lay and a shot at the throne, and that’s what they got.”

“And I’m different?”

His stare burned into hers as his hands went still. “You know you are. Now so do they, so be careful. Don’t make the mistake of thinking they’re not as dangerous as a Terriot male.”

“Why am I different?”

“Because I’ve been dreaming of sleeping with you for almost twenty years, and I’d do anything to make that happen on a regular basis. I bet that scares the hell out of you, doesn’t it?” He smiled ruefully at her expression. “Thought so.”

He turned his attention back to her feet, bending to brush his mouth over one delicate arch, then backtracking with the sweep of his tongue. Slowly, he sucked each toe into his mouth for a playful nibble while gauging her reaction. The sensation was teasingly suggestive.

That unsettled her into urging, “Ask your question.”

Cale rested her foot flat upon his chest, holding it over his heart—with her leg lifted high, her skirt pooled down about her hips, most likely giving him a clear view of her panties. He didn’t stare . . . not blatantly. She decided, rather surprisingly, that she didn’t really mind. Even if the idea made the cotton dampen.