Sebastian/Aristide (Bayou Heat) (15 page)

“People don’t do nice things for no reason,” she said.

“I have no doubt of that,” he agreed, leaning against the doorjamb. A sudden glimmer of amusement lit his eyes. “But I’m not
people
, Katherine. I’m Pantera.”

His words—no, that one word—entered her body and melted like sweet chocolate. Oh, if only she could believe in the goodness of others again. That a man could be honorable, faithful…

“What does that mean, exactly?” she asked. “You must want something from me.”

His eyes shuttered and he nodded. “I want the truth. And I want to protect you.”

“But why? I’m nothing to you.”

He started for the door. “Rest now. We’ll speak about this later.”

“You’re not going to chain me down or lock me in?”

“There’s nowhere you can escape to that my puma can’t find,” he called over his shoulder before closing the door to her room.

His words pulsing in her brain, Kat plopped down on the bed, on the snowy white comforter. Oh, lord, she wanted to believe him. What he’d said about protecting her, and how he’d said it. He’d looked so sincere, like he truly meant it—like he might have some burgeoning feelings for her.

Idiot. Have you learned nothing from your relationship with Marco? Your mistakes? You cannot risk Noah’s life, his future, by risking your heart again
.

Katherine knew Marco wouldn’t hurt Noah, not if there was another story possibility in the works. But she needed to get to him to tell him so.

Lying back on the bed, she gazed out the window at the lush green Wildlands, every leaf, every blade of grass glistening in the warm light of the sun. Night would be the best time for her escape. When Aristide was asleep. And when the beautiful Wildlands she’d trashed so successfully grew still and silent and cool.

Aristide was a shit cook. Normally he grabbed midday meal with the Pantera outside near the bayou, but today was different. Ashe was in labor and everyone was on edge. No one wanted to sit still long enough to eat anything. And then there was the fact that he had a guest in his home.

A guest
.

His nostrils flared. What was he doing, calling her that? Having her here under the guise of finding out information about the Pantera’s enemies when, even now, his puma purred beneath his skin? The annoying animal was finally content for the first time since he’d scented Katherine Burke at The Cougar’s Den. Aristide wished he knew what it meant, and how this would all turn out in the end.

Stepping back, he assessed the meal he’d prepared for them. Fried chicken, one of the Geeks had made for Xavier and Amalie. But, as usual, his best friend and his sister had brought some over for the poor, hungry bachelor. And there was fruit, and of course, bread pudding. It was the one thing Aristide could actually make with success, and without a kitchen fire. His mom had taught him how before she’d passed. Thought it was important for a male to know how to cook a desert. “Sweets to catch a sweetie someday,” she would say. Just the thought of those special times made Aristide’s guts twist painfully. He missed them. His parents. Even Amalie now. Shit, he missed having a family.

The scream that rent the air tore Aristide from his thoughts and made the blood in his veins turn cold.
The woman
. Was she hurt? Had someone gotten into his home?

Abandoning the food, he tore out of the kitchen and ran down the hall. When he reached her room, he wasted no time knocking. He wrenched the door open and burst inside. He found her fully clothes and writhing on the bed, moaning, twisted in the sheets. Midday sunlight washed over her face, illuminating the sheen of sweat as she continued to dream.

Relief snaked through Aristide’s body. No one harmed her. He rushed the bed until he stood over her. She was still asleep, her mind conjuring fearful images or scenarios. His puma wanted out. It wanted to crawl on top of the mattress and lie beside her, lick her face until she awoke from whatever hell she was finding herself in.

Goddamn cat!

“Noah!” she screamed, lying flat on her back, her face and neck muscles tense. “Please, Noah. No! Don’t take him!”

Aristide didn’t know who this Noah was—if he was Katherine Burke’s male—but he didn’t care, and neither did his puma. He only wanted to soothe her.

He knelt on the bed, gently gripped her shoulders and lifted her into a sitting position. “It’s all right, Katherine,” he said softly. “You’re dreaming.”

Instantly, her arms went around his neck, and she burst into tears. But her eyes remained closed. She was crying. In her sleep! Christ.

“Noah, I’m coming,” she whimpered. “I swear I’m coming.”

“Hush, now. Everything’s all right.” Aristide started rocking her like he remembered his own parents rocking him when he was a small, scared cub.

“I need him,” Katherine cried into Aristide’s chest. “I love him.”

A quick flash of unmistakable jealously moved through Aristide as he felt her body relax, as he felt her come awake. And he was glad for it because having her in his arms, soothing her, scenting her, was doing something to him. And not just behind his zipper. He was connecting with her on a level that was inappropriate for the situation they found themselves in. She was not here for his pleasure, or to bond with him. She was a possible link to the Pantera’s enemies, and he needed to release her, get up and walk away before he did something stupid. Before he pulled her even closer and forced her eyes to his. Before he told her that right now, raging inside of him, was an animal that wouldn’t allow another male to get close to her ever again—touch her ever again.

“You’re all right now, Katherine,” he said almost formally, easing her back, placing her against the pillows.

“Aristide,” she began, her voice still thick with tears. “I…I’m sorry. I was dreaming about—”

But Aristide was already on his feet and headed for the door. He didn’t want to know. “It’s nothing, Katherine. Nothing at all.”

***

Fifteen minutes later, her face washed and her head clear, Kat ventured out into the hallway. She was mortified by what had happened, how she’d reacted, and she felt she needed to give this man—this man who had been so kind to her—some semblance of an explanation.

She found him in the kitchen, setting a small table with knives and forks and plates with delicious looking food piled on them. For two. Him and her, presumably. A sweet warmth coated Kat’s insides at the strange, yet very sexy sight. This six-foot-two beast of man, with all his muscles and tightly caged ferocity, fixing lunch. She’d never seen anything like it. Experienced anything like it—like
him.
Total maleness on the outside and compassionate, nurturing soul on the inside.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

His dark eyes lifted to meet hers and he nodded. “Are you hungry?”

That question had so many different meanings to her in that moment, it was crazy, but all she said to him was, “Yes.”

After placing a pan of something that looked absolutely delicious, and smelled even better, on the table, Aristide came around and eased back one of the wood dining chairs. “Please. Sit.”

Really? Kat mused with a touch of sad humor. Manners, too? Seriously, this man had to have a rotten side. He had to be hiding something. He had to have an ulterior motive for the way he was treating her.

He does, Kat. He wants information about Marco.

Aristide sat down in the chair opposite her and picked up a chicken leg. “Dig in, Katherine. You need to regain your strength.”

Yes, to escape, her mind tossed out quickly. But she pushed that truth back for the moment.

“You made this?” she asked, fork in hand.

“Only the bread pudding,” he said, his eyes warm as he studied her. “The rest was donated to the cause.”

“What cause is that?” she asked, curious.

His mouth twitched with amusement. “The lonely workaholic bachelor fund.”

She laughed. “Ah, that. So, no woman?”

His eyes darkened. “Not officially.”

The way he was looking at her, it was almost as if he knew what she looked like without her clothes on. Heat surged into her and pooled low in her belly. Eyes down, she stabbed a piece of the bread pudding with her fork and popped it into her mouth. The moment it hit her tongue, she sighed. It was delicious. It was
him
. This man. Warm and comforting, yet with every bite, more and more addictive. She mentally rolled her eyes—at herself and at such foolishly sensual thoughts.

“Do you have any family?” she asked him, abandoning the pudding for the chicken.

“A sister,” he told her. “But she’s mated. To my best friend. She’s the donator of the chicken.”

“You miss her.” It wasn’t a question, and Kat wondered if she’d crossed a line with the observation.

But Aristide didn’t seem put out at all. “Family’s a tricky thing,” he said, popping orange slices into his mouth. “You appreciate them more when they’re not around,” he added.

His words had Kat’s shoulders falling, and her appetite receding. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Aristide. For the first time that day, his eyes grew cool.

“You miss your male?” he asked tightly.

She placed her chicken down and sighed. “Yes. I suppose he’s my male. And I miss him very much.”

Aristide also stopped eating. His jaw looked very tense now. “Where is he? This male of yours? Home waiting for you?”

Why was he getting so irritated? Kat chewed her lip. He had no idea what was going on with her little male. No idea how scared she was, how she counted the seconds until she could see him again.

“Is he one of our enemies, Katherine?”

The question brought Kat’s head up. “What? Who?”

Aristide’s eyes narrowed, the plate of food on the table before him now completely forgotten. “This Noah.”

Enemy? Was he serious?

“Tell me, Katherine,” he said forcefully, his glittering, black eyes narrowing. “Is he the one who wishes Ashe’s child harm?”

“Oh my god!” She pushed away from the table and stood up. “Hurt a child? No! God, no! Look, I had no idea why Marco wanted me to write the article. I had the connection to the online magazine and he used me for it. I hate that I did it.” Tears pricked her eyes and her voice grew shaky. She couldn’t stand him looking at her with that dark, probing stare. Couldn’t stand how weak and foolish she was.

“Excuse me. I need some air.” She turned from him and went to the door leading to the backyard. Yes, she needed air, but more than anything she needed his probing gaze off of her. He had a way about him that sucked her in, and made her feel like unleashing everything that was on her heart. And shit, she’d said too much. She prayed she hadn’t risked Noah with her outburst. She blinked back tears. She was lost. So lost. She had to get out of here and see her baby.

Strong yet gentle hands cupped her shoulders and turned her around. And a voice, so soothing, so masculine, hummed in her ears.

“Look at me,” Aristide said. “Please.”

She didn’t want to. She was afraid of what she’d see there. Pity? Attraction? Disappointment? Or worst of all, a mask of honor she’d want desperately to believe in. Her gaze lifted. But on that tan, sharply angled, devastatingly handsome face was only an expression of curiosity.

“Who is Noah, Katherine?” he asked, his warm breath moving over her face.

She couldn’t stop the words, the truth. Not from him, and she didn’t know why. “My son,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “My five-year-old son.”

Aristide’s mouth formed a thin line. “And this Marco?”

“Noah’s biological father, and a mistake I made when I was young and stupid. I thought I was in love with him.” She shrugged, feeling the weight of the secret she’d held onto lift. “I only knew him for a month.”

“And the boy is with him now?” Aristide asked, his voice near to a growl.

“Yes.”

“Does this Marco hold your child hostage, Katherine?”

The look on Aristide’s face made Kat draw back. It was so fearsome, so unlike the man who had made her lunch just a few minutes ago. This was as close to a pissed off animal as he could look without shifting.

“Marco has no rights to him,” she said. “He doesn’t want him. Never has. And I thanked god for that every day.”

“But…” Aristide ground out.

This was it. Telling him the truth—what would it cost her? And yet she couldn’t lie to him. Something was there, between them now. He’d pulled her out of that wrecked car, and he’d held her close and soothed her during her nightmare. Maybe it was a foolish and inconvenient attraction, but neither one of them could deny it’s amazing strength.

“Marco took him.” Kat’s voice trembled and tears rolled down her cheeks. “He said he wouldn’t give him back to me unless I wrote the article.”

“The article that makes us look like a threat,” Aristide finished. Then his brows knit together. “The police? Have you gone to them?”

Kat laughed, but it was dull, sad sound. “He warned me against doing that.”

A soft growl exited Aristide’s throat. “But you’ve written it. Why do you still not have your boy?”