Cougar's Courage (Duals and Donovans: The Different) (37 page)

“Wedding?” Cara and Jack exclaimed simultaneously. “But we haven’t…”

“Then you should, children.” Grand-mère’s tone accepted no argument. She seemed to have forgotten the Donovan/Agency issue temporarily at the thought of a wedding. “Jack, you love her, correct?”

Jack nodded.

“Cara, you haven’t strangled the lad yet, so you must love him. Are you willing to stay here instead of going back to the city?”

“I can’t go too far, since one of my guides is part of Jack. Besides, I do love the big lug. But we hadn’t talked marriage yet.”

Rafe put his arms around both Jack and Cara. “Take it from me. Just let Grand-mère have her way. No one plans a wedding like a fertility goddess.”

Elissa, Jude and even Golden Panther added their own commentary, but Jack and Cara didn’t notice.

Because Jack asked, “Will you?” and Cara answered, “Duh!”

They lost themselves in a kiss that shut out the family chatter around them.

Glossary of the Duals and Donovans World

Agency, The:
arm of the US government dedicated to monitoring Differents with the aim of protecting the normy majority.

Animalside:
a dual’s animal form, in general.

Different:
Any sentient being who isn’t a standard-issue human. Includes duals, witches, shamans, sorcerers, kitsune, and manitou, among others, as well as extraplanar visitors such as fae and demons.

Dual:
a shapeshifter. Duals’ shapeshifting ability is an inherited, genetic trait, and while they look like humans when not in their animal form, they are a separate species.

Fae:
Powerful and unpredictable beings from another plane, who occasionally visit—and mess with—this plane.

Kitsune:
immortal fox shapeshifters.

Lady, The:
the feminine face of the Powers.
 

Lord, The:
the masculine face of the Powers.
 

Loup-garou (pl., loups-garous)
: an evil sorcerer who has gained the ability to shape-change due to trafficking with demons. Known as
weres
in the US and England, but the French term is used by Differents in Canada.

Manitou (plural: manitou):
A North American spirit of nature and fertility. Unlike most Differents, manitou can have children with other species.

Normy:
a human with no Different abilities. The vast majority of humans are normies.

Powers, The:
the divine powers as conceived by duals, witches, and most other Differents. See also
Lady
,
Lord
, and
Trickster
.

Silentspeech (verb: to silentspeak):
telepathic communication used by duals in both animalside and wordside form. Incorporates visual and other sensory images as well as words; the balance depends on which form the dual is in.

Skinwalker:
a shaman who has developed the ability to shapechange by essentially stealing the body of an animal.

Sorcerer:
human Different whose magic is based on imposing his/her will on other beings, often using words to ensnare.

Shaman:
human (usually) Different whose magic, aided by one or more spirit-guides, works with natural forces and illusion to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.”

Trickster:
androgynous, shapeshifting and productively chaotic, this aspect of the Powers personifies growth, change and transformation (often through painful lessons). Duals and shamans are considered children of Trickster. Trickster avatars include Coyote and Inari—and according to some shamans, Bugs Bunny.

Witch:
human Differents whose innate magical abilities are focused with often complex spells. Witches work in harmony with natural energies.

Wordside:
a Dual’s humanlike form, so-called because the animalside thinks more in images. Don’t ever call the wordside the “human” side where a dual can hear you!

About the Author

Teresa Noelle Roberts started writing stories in kindergarten and she hasn’t stopped yet. A prolific author of short erotica, she’s also a published poet and fantasy writer—but hot paranormals and BDSM-spiced contemporaries are her favorites. She’s hard at work to bring you sexy magic with more Duals and Donovans adventures and getting kinky with hot dominant guys and smart women who submit to them—but not anyone else!—for your reading pleasure.

Teresa is a bit of a crunchy granola girl who enjoys belly dance, yoga, medieval re-creation, playing in the ocean, cooking, and growing more vegetables than she and her husband can possibly eat. She shares her home in southern Massachusetts with her husband, a Leo who works in law enforcement, and two overstuffed cats, who deserve their own shout-out as inspirations for her works. She and her husband often plan vacations around food, history, and/or proximity to water.

Find out more about Teresa at
www.teresanoelleroberts.com
. Or if you’d rather chat a bit, follow her on Twitter at
www.twitter.com/TeresNoeRoberts
or become a fan at
www.facebook.com/AuthorTeresaNoelleRoberts
.

Look for these titles by Teresa Noelle Roberts

Now Available:

Duals and Donovans: The Different

Lions’ Pride

Foxes’ Den

Fox’s Folly

Knowing the Ropes

What happens in Vegas lasts forever…if you’re lucky.

Fox’s Folly

© 2012 Teresa Noelle Roberts

A
Duals and Donavans
Story

Las Vegas is the wrong place for an inexperienced witch like Paul Donavan. But he has no choice; his family owes a debt of honor to a half-fae casino owner, whose guests have been dying under mysterious circumstances. The normy police haven’t connected the dots between the deaths, and the owner has called in his marker.

When Paul literally runs into fox dual Taggart Ross, the instant, powerful attraction between them bristles with red flags. Not only should there be no sparks between him and this “hillbilly with a tail,” the fact is a dual couldn’t have committed murder-by-magic. But until he’s got proof, caution rules.

Tag’s own suspicions are on high alert. Magic killed his favorite uncle, and Paul, who senses Tag’s dual nature way too easily, should be a prime suspect. Except Tag’s libido responds to the witch in a way that shouldn’t happen.

Whatever this thing is between them, the raw sexual energy feeds a power that becomes their best hope of drawing out the killer before he, she, or it strikes again. Until love gets involved, and things get real complicated, real fast…

Warning:
Sly foxes, smoky Southern drawls, sex magic, dangerous demons, tacky Las Vegas glitz, and did we mention the hot guy-on-guy sex?

Enjoy the following excerpt for Fox’s Folly:

“Is this moving a little fast, or is just me?” Tag said, laughing. He had to laugh to make sure he did it, to make sure he didn’t continue kissing and nibbling the man’s fingers long after the last bit of sushi was gone. “I’ve been known to be a man-ho, but I usually wait to learn someone’s name before I ask him out. Or her, or, in at least one case, zir. And I usually ask the last name before we start messing around this much. At least I have since I graduated from college, and that was a few years ago.”

“Something in the water.”

“Except I’d already dragged you off to dinner before I had any water here. Must be in the air.” He paused and sniffed, scenting in a way he hoped his human companion wouldn’t notice. Definitely something in the air. He hadn’t imagined that woods-and-ocean-and-amber scent, and his foxside assured him it wasn’t cologne. Paul just smelled like nature, and like, oh gods, hot sex. “Why else would they need a slogan like ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’?”

Paul grabbed his hand. His face turned serious, startlingly intent. “I’m single. I’d been dating someone casually until recently, but she and I both realized we weren’t a good fit before it got to the point that ending it was messy. So, I’m a free man. I hope you can say the same.”

“I have a couple of…I’d guess you’d say friends with benefits. They’re married to each other. I’m their good friend, and we all fuck sometimes. They’d probably be disappointed if I didn’t come home with a wild story from Vegas.” Now why had he told Paul about Charmaine and Joe? It sounded sordid to most normies, who didn’t understand fox culture, where extended families and long-term ménages were the norm.

Paul nodded, though, as if he understood or at least accepted. “Nice work if you can get it. Threesomes can get messy, but it sounds like you guys have it worked out.” He added in a softer voice, “I suppose it’s easier for you than it would be for most humans. Three’s sacred in dual culture—but are you Lord or Trickster? I know you’re not the Lady.”

There was no point in denying it. Paul was obviously not a speciesist. But Tag still dropped his voice. Paul might be fine, but other people weren’t, and in an increasingly conservative political climate, normies’ fears about duals were being codified into law. The last thing he wanted to do was spend part of his time in Las Vegas being harassed by the Agency, which monitored duals and other Differents.

Actually, that might be the second-to-last thing. Dragging Paul into that kind of mess would probably be the last thing. He seemed so nice, as well as hotter than hell.

Tag tried to make light of it. “I didn’t get so rattled I let my ears show, did I? Haven’t done that since I was six and my folks took me into Knoxville for the first time.”

“No. Not that anyone else would see, that is. I can see the fox in your aura, of course, and…oh shit,” Paul whispered, the ordinary profanity sounding foul in his cultured voice. “I did it again. I am so sorry.” He managed to eke out a smile. “I guess I just blew your cover and my chances at a Las Vegas fling.”

His aura? Paul knew what he was from his aura? Paul could
see
his aura? Who was this guy, other than insanely hot and now more than a little freaky? “What the
hell
kind of consulting gig are you here on, Paul who hasn’t told me his last name?”

“Security consultant for the casino.”

Tag sniffed at the air, not bothering to conceal it now that his secret was out. He smelled no lies, but still, his ears perked inside the human seeming. Something was not quite right here. “I’ve met the kind of security they hire for high-stakes games. They look like thugs, and you never see the guns, but you know they’re carrying. You look like a college professor. A young, attractive professor, but still a professor. And you’re not the kind of security who’s supposed to blend in, because you don’t blend. You’re too good-looking, and you’re too uncomfortable. I’d say being in a city makes your paws itch, except you don’t have paws. Maybe you mean computer security, but a geek would be talking about work by now and fiddling with his iWhatever. Who are you really, Paul?
What
are you? I’m pretty sure you’re human, but you smell like no one I’ve ever met before.”

“My name,” Paul said, as if answering that one question would answer all of them, “is Paul Donovan.”

It did—not the name, which was common enough, but the way he said it.

“As in Desmond Donovan, the former presidential advisor on magic and the Different?”

The one who’d resigned in solitary protest as, despite his best efforts, laws were passed denying duals their civil rights. A hero in his own right among the Different, though he was a human witch, not a dual.

Paul nodded.

“So you’re one of
those
Donovans.” Tag exaggerated his drawl. It tended to make people think he was dumber than he was, although it was probably too late for that with Paul. “One of the most powerful witches in this country.” If it was true, it would explain Paul’s amazing scent, the combination of raw sex and curious purity. Witches were human, but a witch on the Donovan power level was as unlike a normy as a shape-shifting dual was. Donovans supposedly had the kind of magic that inspired the freakier western European fairytales—only they were the good witches, the ones who saved the heroine’s butt when everything was going against her. They didn’t use their powers for material gain.

Which didn’t exactly jibe with being a security consultant at one of the ritziest casinos in Las Vegas.

As far as Tag could smell, Paul was telling the truth about his family, but it could be a partial truth. He could be a low-powered witch who was taking odd jobs to improve his skills—even the Donovans must occasionally have a kid who wasn’t as powerful, just like his own clan had produced Aunt Mary Frances, who opted to pass for human so she could marry a right-wing Bubba. He could have fallen out with his family for some reason. Just because they were capital-G Good Guys didn’t mean they might not be annoying as horseflies to live with. He could just be checking out the mundane world, like Amish teenagers did before settling down.

Or maybe he was one of the bad witches. There had to be bad witches. Every sentient species produced a few rotters, and since witches were basically just humans with some twists to their DNA, they’d be no exception.