Blue Moon Brides: The Complete Series (40 page)

And then he kissed her. Again. He might not have bought a damned book—and she was fairly certain he hadn’t because, last time she’d checked, Barnes and Noble hadn’t set up shop in the swamp—but he’d figured this kissing business out. His lips moved over hers, sweet and sure. His tongue teased the closed seam of her lips and she kept them closed as long as she could, to prolong the sweet anticipation. Until he cheated, nipping her lower lip. The small sting had her opening up with a gasp. His tongue pushed in boldly, while his free hand, oh God….

His hand cupped her ass. Her naked ass. Shaped and squeezed.

Unabashedly, unashamedly traced her rear cleft.

He had her naked on the bayou floor, acting raw and wild. The scent of crushed grass drifted up from beneath them, the raw sounds of sex mixing with the whine of insects. With sun was going down, there shouldn’t be anyone out here but the two of them, but anything was possible. God. They were both living proof of the impossible. When she tried to tear her mouth away from his, his mouth followed her, swallowing each breath she gave him.

There was nothing she could do but feel.

When his finger found the puckered rosette, she froze with anticipation and sweet dread. His taking her ass was going to sting something bad. Even now, as he pressed with that single digit, her body resisted, holding out. To her surprise, he stopped, switching hands so he could drag his fingers through her folds. He didn’t touch her clit though and she wanted to whimper. Beg some. But she wasn’t giving in to him that easily. Not this time.

He went back to her rear hole, spreading her own moisture over the puckered entrance. When he lifted his mouth from hers, his lips resting against hers, she knew he could feel and hear her needy whimper as he pushed the first finger into her ass.

“See, I think this works better than talkin’,
boo
. I know you’re listenin’ to me now.”

“Dag,” she pleaded, not entirely sure what she was asking for.

He’d shoved his dick inside her there yesterday and her rear passage burned and clenched as he pushed his finger deeper. The sting was so good and he didn’t hesitate, shoving deeper until he’d penetrated her completely.

“I’m goin’ to give you three,” he growled.

He did exactly as he’d promised, withdrawing his finger and then pushing back inside her. One finger, two.
Three
. She was stuffed full of him, each bold stroke finding raw nerve endings she hadn’t know she possessed.

For a long moment, they lay there, his rough breathing filling up the air around her, her full of him. Liking this hadn’t been part of her plans but God, she did. She loved his attentions and his determination to make her come every which way.

He looked at her. “You know what I wan’ to hear.”

He was going to make her admit it.

“You’re my mate,” she said. The first word came out tentative, but the last, well, she might be his, but he was hers too. Her fucking match.

His fingers scissored her sore ass, stoking the sweet burn higher. “When you sit tomorrow,
boo
, you goin’ to think of me,
oui
?”

The heat blazed through her and it was too much, too Dag, too
something
. She came, shoving her ass back against his hand, screwing his fingers deeper and tighter as her empty pussy convulsed.

“You got this?”  The familiar, deep voice sent her eyes flying open.

Dag didn’t even look at Luc. “Hell, yeah.”

Oh God oh God.
But Luc didn’t join them. She could see his booted feet from the corner of her eyes, could feel the blush painting her cheeks but there was no holding back the orgasm rolling through her. She came, riding Dag’s fingers and taking him deep, but all Luc did was drop a blanket and a stack of clothes next to them.

His feet disappeared. “I’ll stand guard,” he called and Dag just grunted.

The next moment, he flipped her over onto the blanket, pressed inside, and proceeded to show her just how far he could push her.

A hand on her ass slapped her awake; the hand over her mouth, however, stopped her protests before they started. The houseboat was pitch black. Right. They’d screwed themselves silly outside and then he’d picked her up and carried her back inside the houseboat.

Now night had come to the bayou with a vengeance.

“We got us unwelcome company,” Dag growled against her ear.

His body pressed hers down into the mattress, but there was no holding back her spike of adrenaline. Memories rushed back in: the shack deep in the bayou. The vampire’s teeth tearing at her wrist as it fed.
God
. She couldn’t do that again.

“Secret hideout not so secret anymore?” she mumbled around his hand. The snark was second nature. Plus, no way she let Dag know just how much his bombshell scared her. Not that it really mattered. He was a wolf. He had a nose and he’d figure it out.

“I’m goin’ to let you up,” he continued, “and we’re goin’ to slip out into the bayou and run like hell for town. Luc says he tracked the vamp pretty close to Port Leon, so I’m thinkin’ I should check up on your place.”

Where she’d wanted to head yesterday.

Except he hadn’t let her.

“Nod your head,” he said, “if you understand.”

She nipped his palm instead and he grunted. “I’m goin’ to take that as a yes.”

He moved his hand away cautiously and shoved off the bed. She sprang up too. If the vamp knew where they were, she was on board with a quick getaway.

“Not interested in standing and fighting?” She bent over and swiped her clothes from the floor.

He shook his head. “Leave those. We don’ have time for playin’ dress up.”

“I’m not running naked through the bayou.”

He strode over to the armoire and yanked open the doors. She’d had no idea the bayou bad boy had himself a secret exit. Or a private swimming pool, depending on how you looked at it. She eyed the murky water skeptically and hoped he wasn’t recommending they go for a late night swim. Alligators loved dark water and there was every possibility of water snakes. Plus, she was fairly certain she could smell some really nasty bacteria that had been percolating since the dinosaurs moved along. Getting in was out of the question.

He shot her a look and held out his hand. “And I’m not askin’ you to. We’re goin’ to shift.”

Something hit the roof of the houseboat hard. The boat rocked, water slopping onto the floor. “Now,
boo
.”

The water still didn’t look appealing. Not to mention she was fairly certain Dag’s escape hatch was almost too narrow to fit through. Panic clawed at her. “I’m voting for fighting.”

“Not recommended.” Those were two words she’d never expected to hear coming from Dag’s mouth. “Vamps fight like a bitch and we’re not in a good position.”

“You’re saying we’re sitting ducks? Because I thought you were the almighty, all-powerful warrior wolf.” She couldn’t get into the water.

“Shift,” he snapped without answering her question.

“No.” She yanked on T-shirt. Bra, bra… she’d be going without because she had no idea where he’d tossed it. “Did I mention that I’m claustrophobic?”

The boat rocked again, more forcefully, and she heard the keening sound of metal being ripped from the foredeck. God. The vamp was taking up the deck one board at a time.

“Now,” he roared. Since the vamp apparently knew they were here, she guessed silence didn’t matter anymore.

“I can’t.” She yanked up her jeans as he scooped her up into his arms. The canvas strap of the bag tossed over his shoulder bit into her cheek. He shouldered the doors wider and stepped inside the armoire.

“Please—” She hated that whimper of sound, but the armoire was too narrow. Dag certainly wouldn’t fit and she barely would, although she’d never get the leverage or speed she needed to make it down and out. She’d be stuck in there forever until she drowned and died.

“We don’ have many choices here.” He didn’t look at her as he fished a glass Coke bottle out of the bag. Lighting the wick with a quick flick of a lighter, he tossed the impromptu Molotov cocktail onto their bed. The cotton flared up with a bang of light. Feeling nostalgic was a luxury whose price tag she couldn’t afford.

She fell back on snark again. “A little extreme, don’t you think?”

Maybe not.

The vamp peeled back a corner of the tin roof and the stars twinkled up there in the sky, like the bayou version of a Christmas tree, but all she saw were fangs.

“Shift,” Dag repeated.

“I can’t. I have to be calm. Happy,” she said miserably. “Whatever shifter gene I got, it doesn’t work like yours, okay? I’m not going to change into a fox right now and there’s nothing you or I can do to force it.”

For the first time in her life, she wished that wasn’t true. That she could shift when and where she wanted, because with the smoke filling the room from the fire and the flames licking everywhere, even Dag’s fucked up escape hatch looked palatable.

He nodded and looked down at the water waiting for him.

This was it. He’d shift and go. She’d stay—and become vampire sushi. Instead of leaving, though, he darted back out, grabbing her sneakers and shoving them into the bag. He dropped the bag over her shoulder and chest. “Do
not
let go,
boo
.”

He stepped into the water and held out his hand. No betraying tremble there—just rock-hard muscle and skin. He was doing what he needed to do. She looked up at his face and he didn’t smile or coax. Just looked at her and waited.

“Am I going to wake up in Narnia?” She put her hand in his, trying desperately not to think about what was coming next. The problem was, staying put meant dying and she’d seen firsthand what that meant. She didn’t want to end up like Ameline.

He turned his head to watch her. “Everythin’ is goin’ to be fine. I’ll buy you a beer when we get to town and you can yell at me then.”

“Deal,” she said weakly as they sank into the water. The damp was welcome after the heat, but the vampire’s shriek wasn’t. It was closer, held off momentarily by the heat and light of Dag’s fire. God. She tried not to pant, but was fairly certain she’d failed. The armoire didn’t have enough air.

Dag didn’t say anything more, just shifted.  One minute she was thigh-to-thigh with her man and the next moment fur brushed against her. The wolf snapped and growled until she buried her fingers deep in his ruff of fur. She had enough time to suck in a breath and then he pulled her under.

Don’t think
, her head warned.
Hold on
, her fingers telegraphed. Panic iced her veins as the walls of Dag’s escape tunnel closed in around them. No air, just water, roots and a thick, lightless soup of bayou water she couldn’t see through and that stung her eyes when she tried. She tried to keep her arms in and her legs straight when she banged hard against the walls. Dag didn’t stop, the wolf swimming powerfully.

Her lungs burned. She had to breath. Instead, she pressed her face against wet fur.
Out out out
. She was plucking him bald, but the wolf only picked up speed.

They burst to the surface.

~*~

Riley’s fingers trembled in his fur, but she didn’t say anything. Just silently sucked in air like she hadn’t thought she’d breathe again. Dag shifted back, fierce pride filling him. She’d held it together. Had held onto him. Carefully, he steered them through the patch of marsh reeds to the edge of the bayou bank. He wanted Riley out of the water. Unfortunately, they were barely a hundred yards from the burning boat.

“Riley Jones,” the vamp shrieked and her eyes went straight to the monster. He wished he could wipe away the shadows gathered in those pretty brown depths. She shouldn’t have had to live through a week like the last one. No woman should.

When she opened her mouth, he pressed his fingers against her lips and shook his head.

Responding right now was suicidal.

“You think you’ve got away?” Flames flared on the houseboat’s deck and the vamp launched itself towards the far bank and the shadows there. Too bad. Dag wouldn’t have minded if the fire took care of this particular problem for him.

Riley’s nails bit into his arm and she searched the dark stand of trees where the vamp had disappeared. Dag slid an arm around her, just in case she had any crazy ideas about leaping up and shouting “Here I am” or “You betcha.” Because something about the vamp’s words had her on high alert.

He knew the vamp was scaling the trees, making for the canopy. The vamp hunters always preferred to cross the bayou in the treetops. It was faster and the Pack hadn’t figured out how to ambush the hunting parties once they’d cleared the ground.

“You’ve got a place in town you wouldn’t want me visiting,” the vamp called. “Ameline’s home away from home.” For a moment, the moon backlit the bastard hightailing it away from the burning boat. The distance was too great for throwing a knife and, even if he’d been willing to leave Riley alone and unprotected, the vamp had a head start Dag couldn’t make up. Hiding in the reeds, however, didn’t feel good either so, as soon as he was certain the vamp wasn’t circling back around, he moved them to the bank.

“You think that’s true?” Riley’s lips barely moved, but Dag heard her loud and clear.

She was worried.

Then she surprised him, slinging her arm around his shoulders and giving him a fierce, hard squeeze. He was barefoot in the mud, with water dripping off his southern parts. He damned sure didn’t smell good, and he had a twenty-mile run if he planned on making it back to town.

“Fuck,” she swore hoarsely, rummaging in the bag for her sneakers. The borrowed shoes were wet, but the soles would give her some protection. Shifting would have been simpler, but she couldn’t do what she couldn’t do.

Since there wasn’t much he could say, he dressed silently, lacing up his boots while she squeezed water out of her hair.

“So it knows how to hurt you,” he said quietly. “We’ll figure somethin’ out,
boo
.”

The flash of pain on her face said it all.  He didn’t like their options either. Hiding her deep in the bayou was more his usual approach, but he figured nothing short of the apocalypse would keep her away from Port Leon now. Even if he stopped her—and he could because he was bigger and meaner—she’d never let him forget. And she was his mate. They were going to spend the rest of forever together, although apparently she was going to take some convincing.

“We need to figure it out fast.” A small sound escaped her. “We can’t let that thing get into the shelter.”

“Okay.” He took the bag from her and slung it over his back. “Then we’ll run.”

~*~

Port Leon looked the same as always, the sleepy main street crawling past the marina in a hodgepodge of clapboard houses, gas stations, bait shops, and dirt roads. Riley probably could have named every one of the eight hundred people who lived here.

It wasn’t until the early morning sun crawling over the horizon turned the bayou waters fiery red that Dag decided it was safe to hit the town. They’d laid low in the swamp until first light, and then Dag had led her to a boat hidden behind a hunter’s blind. For the next hour, he’d gunned the motor, racing them across the open water with single-minded determination. He’d avoided the banks, shooting straight up the center.

She’d seen firsthand how far those vamps could jump, so sunrise definitely made her feel better.

“No daylight, right?” she asked, needing to hear his answer.

He killed the motor, guiding the boat towards the dock. “The vamps? Usually not,” he said, but that wasn’t confirmation. Not in her book.

Her eyes were gritty with sleeplessness and the muscles in her legs burned from their night run. Wild monkey sex with Dag probably hadn’t been her wisest move, although at least she’d die happy.

“Usually doesn’t mean ‘Absolutely never, sweetheart,’” she pointed out. As soon as the boat was close enough, she grabbed the mooring line coiled up on the deck and dropped it around the painter. “Under what circumstances should I be worrying? How long do I have to move the women at the safe house?”

He gave her the look that never failed to rile her up. That look said he was here, so he’d do the thinking and the protecting for her. Unfortunately, she hadn’t figured out how to train him better.

For a moment, there was silence as he docked the boat, his hands capable and strong on the wheel as he took them in. She’d been content, this time, to sit back and let him drive. The soft slap of the water against the boat reminded her she was tired but worse, the longer she sat, the more she definitely remembered what they’d been up to. There’d been a knowing glint in his eyes when he’d asked earlier if she was comfortable.

Dag Breaux was no gentleman.

And her ass was deliciously sore.

Tomorrow’s project could be civilizing him, she decided. If they both lived that long.

Right on cue, he opened his mouth and proceeded to piss her off. “You don’ need to worry. I’m here.”