Under the Bayou Moon (12 page)

“Good morning.”

She stretched and started to turn toward him but he stopped her.

Jacques closed his eyes and played with her breasts, loving their weight.

“Mmmm, somebody has a big appetite this morning,” she murmured while pressing her breast into his palm, begging for more. Lord she was so responsive. Even now he could smell her arousal.

“That’s what happens when a man wakes up to a banquet in his bed.”

Jacques rolled her onto her stomach and moved over her. He kissed a trail down her back, making certain to concentrate on the spots that made her squirm and moan his name. By the time he got to her markings, the area was dark and pulsating. He used his tongue to trace the prominent circle, causing Angel to inhale sharply and dry hump the bed.

“Ohhh Jacques, please, please.”

“Shhh, I’ll give you what you need,
cher
, just trust me.”

After licking the circular pattern, he started running his tongue along the vein-like patterns radiating out from the spot.

“Lord, Jacques, I can’t take much more.”

Jacques continued his oral exploration, but this time he took two of his fingers and ran them up and down her soaking wet slit. Angel was moaning loudly and begging him to enter her. He thought to tease her, heighten her pleasure, but he was too aroused himself to play games. What was it about this woman that eroded his sexual patience? He slid two fingers inside and felt her pussy clinch. In, out, in, out, going deeper and deeper with each flick of his wrist.

“Ahhhhh, Jacques!”

Angel came, trapping his fingers inside her warm, wet passage. He took his thumb and massaged her markings, extending her orgasm. Pulling out his fingers, he licked them clean of her juices, savoring the spicy, earthy taste of her. Jacques lay on top of her, supporting the bulk of his weight on his forearm. He used the other hand to spread her butt cheeks just enough to find her still throbbing pussy. Jacques lined up his cock and with one smooth motion, entered her. Ecstasy was the only word to describe the feeling. Angel had calmed down a bit, but now she was moaning and lifting up her hips as his thrust against her. With each thrust, he hit the cluster of nerves that gave her the ultimate pleasure. She was so tight, hot, and wet around him as he glided in and out of her pulsing core.

“You’re so hot and wet,
cher
, I wish I could fuck you all day. I want to live in your pussy,” he growled.

“Yes!” Angel shouted, co-signing on the absurd notion. Yet in that moment, it made perfect sense.

If he could thrust into her for the rest of his life, he would. Jacques felt tingles working their way down from his navel to his cock, and from his knees up to his balls. Any moment he would fill her with his seed, any moment the dam would break and he would shout her name. All he wanted was that moment. All he wanted was her. Angel came, screaming his name, and his body jerked in response. It was like someone snapped a rubber band. He started coming with an intensity he’d never known.

“Arghhhh! Fuckkkk!”

It was as if he were emptying his very soul inside her. Just when he thought he was done, his hips would flex and more come would shoot out. Jacques was seeing stars, the peripheries of his vision began to darken, and he laid his head on her shoulder. A brief thought came to him as all went black; if he was dying, what a way to go.

•●•

Jacques awoke to Angel calling his name and slapping his face. He caught her hand before it could connect once again.

“What the hell! Angel stop. What are you doing?”

“Oh thank God. You fainted. We were making love and you fainted.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I doubt I
fainted
! I was probably just tired and went to sleep.”

There was no way in hell he was going to cop to fainting.

“I know a faint when I see one, Jacques,” Angel said emphatically.

Jacques rolled to his feet.

“Look, I’m fine. I didn’t faint. I think you’re mistaken. Come on, we should go ahead and get up. I wanted to take you around a bit today.”

“Really! Where are we going?” she asked excitedly, mercifully dropping the fainting accusations.

“I want to go around to some of the parishes in my pods and talk to people. Check on them and hopefully see if anyone has any information about the traps.”

“Are you sure you want me to go?”

Jacques turned in the doorway to the bathroom. Angel sauntered up to him looking all soft, warm, and well-loved. Her skin was easily marked, and the evidence of their lovemaking was all over her stomach, breasts, and thighs. He loved seeing every patch of red on her honey-colored skin. Since their swim, her straight hair had turned into a mass of curls that looked enticing, even with one side being squished.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She came up to him and ran one finger around his areola, making his pectoral muscle flex involuntarily. Her eyes were coy, but there was a hint of mischief around her mouth.

“Well, I’ve been known to give men the vapors.”

Jacques grabbed for her, but Angel jumped back just out of his reach and ran into the bathroom. Jacques was hot on her heels.

“For the last time…”

He didn’t even get a chance to finish before Angel was jumping on him and kissing him. Her silken thighs wrapped around his waist, calling him home. Hell, why even bother? He spent the next hour worshipping his Creole queen once again.

“They’re trying to get men to join the Acadia pod. I’ve heard they’re throwing barbeques and putting out a big spread to get gators to come hear what they have to say, especially along the border. They’re having information sessions about what’s going to happen if you aren’t mated by the end of the bayou moon cycle, and they’re talking about going to war over what happened to Boucher’s nephew.”

Angel’s stomach tightened at the mention of the mating. What did she expect? As much as she tried not to think about it, people’s lives would change forever if she chose not to mate with Jacques. This man was only stating the obvious.

“How many people go to these rallies?” Jacques asked the man he’d introduced as John Viator.

They were sitting in John’s den. It was small and full of hunting trophies, which was slightly creepy, but Angel tried not to focus on the stuffed animals and skins covering nearly every surface. John Viator looked like a grandfather. With silvering hair, a pot belly, and overalls on, he looked as if he was used to hard work. The skin on his neck, arms, and hands were leathery and tan from hours in the sun. He was a tall, robust man with shrewd eyes.

“I don’t know, about twenty or thirty, mostly poor, mostly degenerates and trouble makers. A lot of good gators were lost when Katrina came through here. Your daddy included, God rest his soul. This younger generation wants things handed to them. Land their parents were holding onto because they didn’t want it to be managed by the Bertrands is now being practically stolen by Boucher.”

Angel sat up at this.

“Is he paying them for the land?” Jacques questioned.

“Peanuts, he’s paying far less than market value, and when they complain, he finds their weak spot and puts pressure on them to accept what he’s giving them.”

“I wouldn’t hate it so bad if it was just about the land, it’s not like the lands he’s getting will ever equal the size of the Lafayette territories. It might increase the Acadia borders a bit, but most people know how good they got it with your family managing the land, and they ain’t stupid enough to throw in with Boucher. What I don’t like are the women and kids that are wandering back into the parish after Boucher puts them off their land. Most of them didn’t even have a say in selling it, and once some of those poorer gators get a bit of money, well, it’s gone on booze and drugs. Boucher will rent the land back to them, but I hear if they get behind by even a month, his goons go and toss them out. Then they put someone more productive on the land who’s too scared to get behind.”

“That’s terrible. Where do they go when they’re put out?” Angel asked, seeing the big picture for the first time.

“Some have family that’ll take’em in. Some go to the city to try to work; most are living in the shelters, and some shift for as long as they can to feed. After a while, they lose their ability to shift back.”

“We’ll discuss it when we get in the car.”
Angel heard Jacques’s voice in her mind.

His arm went around her waist; for some reason he didn’t want her saying too much around Mr. Viator. She was sure he had his reasons, so she backed down. They stayed for a bit longer and then left to go to the next parish.

The drive was dismal. The bayou in winter was warm but still barren.

“Care to explain some of what he was talking about back there?” Angel asked since it was obvious Jacques wasn’t going to volunteer anything. In fact, he was in his own little world.

“What part?” He sounded distracted.

“Well, how about the thing with the land and gators not being able to shift back to human form for starters. I thought we were supposed to be partners on this trip, but I’m missing a lot of pieces here. I need you to put this thing together for me.”

Jacques nodded before speaking his next words.

“When shifters buy land, some choose to give it to the larger land owners to be used for the betterment of the pod. My family owns a lot of land, so some have chosen to put their land with ours, and my company manages it all. Everything goes into one pot. We do keep track of all land donations, so we can always trace it back and return the rights if a family asks us to. But so far, not many have asked.”

“Then how can Boucher buy land from your people?”

“There are some people who’ve opted to keep their land. Boucher’s family was one of those people. They purchased a lot of property in Acadia and have refused to consolidate with the Lafayette land trust. For them it’s always been about power. He’s a pain in the ass, but my family and the other sovereigns put up with him because, like it or not, people follow him. There are some who don’t agree with land trusts.”

“Why, when it benefits everyone? Viator said you all help each other. That’s a good thing.”

“Well, there are rules, just like in any business. Some people don’t like rules. If they put their land in trust, they have to run it past a board to sell it. They have to make sure it’s maintained, such as keeping it trap free. They can rent it, but we have to be notified of who they’re renting to. It’s just like any property management company. That can turn people off.”

“It does seem a bit invasive if you ask me.”

“Well, the rules are there for a reason. Let’s say you’re living on a plot of land, and the owner decides to sell it without giving you adequate notice, how is that fair? Orlet’s say you’re renting your land, but you’re not paying attention to it and someone is dumping on your property. If there’s a contamination, gators can die. We’d also have the EPA and every environmental group all over our asses, and that’s not good for people who want to collectively stay below the radar. The rules are there to keep things fair and to protect the pod. Most people understand that.”

Angel nodded. It made sense, but she could see the other side as well.

“So what about the people Boucher’s evicting? Mr. Viator said they’re losing their ability to shift. How’s that possible?”

“It’s not really lost, more like forgotten. If we stay in gator form without shifting for an entire moon cycles, which is typically about four weeks, our beasts completely take over and a shifter can forget how to shift back to human form. And the opposite is true, if we stay in our human forms for too long without a connection to the bayou, we can forget how to shift back to our gator form. Like when you shifted in college, after a while, you said it felt like you’d dreamed it. That’s what it’s like. The gator starts to lose its shifting ability to humanity. Shifters can regain their abilities, but usually something familiar to the gator has to trigger it, or a priestess has to get involved, and it’s like having training wheels on a bike again.”

“But I shifted so easily in Vegas.”

“That’s because our beasts are stronger than we are. Emotions can trigger a change if you’re not used to controlling them. I think I also may have heightened your senses as well. Shifters have a natural bond. We can recognize each other.”