Inevitable: Shifters Forever Worlds (Only After Dark Book 5) (3 page)

N
ew Orleans
, Louisiana

L
ucia parked
the car in front of the restaurant, though a weathered, battered old sign clearly proclaimed that this was a no parking zone.

Leandra pointed to the sign. “You could get towed.”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

The tone in Lucia’s voice gave Leandra pause. She so wanted to delve into the topic, but Lucia’s face was as welcoming as a cottonmouth’s.

“What is this place?” Leandra studied the building, with its balconies, standard for New Orleans.

Balconies laced with metal architecture over each door and in front of windows on the second floor created the illusion there were several buildings, not once giving a hint the original structures had been fitted into one building. Not many knew that Quake occupied the entire block, it was a secret known only to the paranormal beings that inhabited the area.

The entrances were marked with different colored doors; the walls were dilapidated.

Lucia halted in the middle of the sidewalk between two buildings. This brought Leandra to a full stop next to Lucia.

She looked at her aunt. “What’s up, Tante?”

“Just taking a moment.” Lucia inhaled a deep breath, then released it slowly.

“What is it?” Leandra studied her aunt, so starkly beautiful, curves emphasized by a dark mourning dress.

One last exhale, then Leandra put a smile on her face as if it was a difficult task. “Nothing. Let’s go in. You’re familiar with the doors, the rules, all that?”

Leandra had heard rumors, but she would welcome the opportunity to hear more. Quake had a mysterious reputation in the witch world. A restaurant that doubled as a meeting place for supernatural beings.

Yeah, who wouldn’t want to hear more?

Especially when she’d heard that they welcomed all beings, as long as they remained segregated.

“Not really,” she told Lucia. “Tell me, Tante?”

Lucia nodded. “Shifters come here, and vampires, and witches, and elementals. Other types at times. Shifters use the blue door. The red is for witches. The green for vampires. Black for elementals.”

“Which do you use? Born of a witch, but you’re a shifter.”

“What do you know of my heritage, Leandra?”

“Mémé didn’t want to say much, Tante.”

Lucia nodded. “Quake has rules. No interactions with types other than your own. No fighting between types, species, or individuals. And no questions about Quake.”

“No problem.” Leandra acquiesced.

“I’m surprised my mother never brought you here.”

“I don’t like coming to town. Mémé didn’t force me.”

Lucia began a forward trek toward the red door. “You’ll have to tell me what your plans are. Surely you can’t stay in the cabin on the swamp.”

Why can’t I?

Leandra wasn’t going to ask her, but she could imagine nothing else she’d rather do.

Lucia opened the red door.

“Why this door?”

“You’re not a shifter. I’m descended from witches.”

Leandra accepted the explanation and stepped into a room that was floor-to-ceiling black curtains with barely any lighting other than two sconces with candles on the wall to the left and to the right. Across from the door they’d just entered through was another door.

A woman stepped forward, clad in a black gown that matched her ebony hair. Her skin appeared luminescent. Leandra tried to study her without giving it away that she was doing so.

The woman gave off preternatural vibes but wasn’t a witch, nor was she a shifter.

Her face was a forbidding mask, unwelcoming though she was supposed to be a hostess, or at least that’s what Leandra assumed.

“Lucia.” A smile appeared on the woman’s unemotional countenance. “I’m not sure where to seat you.”

“Where you always used to.”

“He’d kill me if I did.”

Leandra glanced from one to the other. What was this about?

Lucia rolled her eyes. “Witch section then, but the room closest to the shifters, if you don’t mind. I’ll feel more comfortable closer to my own kind.”

“Absolutely. I’ve missed you.” The stoic hostess wrapped her arms around Lucia.

Leandra picked up Lucia’s discomfort with the touch, but Lucia didn’t move away.

“I’ve missed you, too, Bethany.”

Bethany pulled away. “He’s missed you too.”

Who the hell is that? Who is he
, Leandra wondered. She glanced at Lucia for answers, but it was clear that Lucia was avoiding eye contact with her.

I’ll get to the bottom of this, sooner or later.

“I don’t need to review the rules with you, do I?” Bethany asked.

“Not unless you were told to remind me.”

“He doesn’t know you’re here.” Bethany glanced upward. “Yet.”

Leandra’s gaze followed Bethany’s to the black ceiling.

Of course, there was nothing there.

“I’d heard he was out of town. Guess I heard wrong.” Lucia gave a one-shouldered shrug.

Leandra reached for Lucia’s hand and squeezed her fingers. “What am I missing?” She whispered as low as she could.

Bethany glanced at Leandra, clearly she heard.

Lucia shook her head. No answer was coming from her.

Bethany led them down a red-walled corridor marked with doorways every few feet until they’d come to a point where the red ended and turned blue. She made an abrupt left at a doorway and entered the tiny alcove of a room.

The room held three tables, each with two chairs. The tables, as well as the room, were empty. The only lighting was a hurricane lamp on each table. The artwork was subdued and unidentifiable, even with her preternatural vision.

Bethany pulled two black scrolls from a wrought iron latticed holder next to the door jamb. “As close as I can get you without actually putting you in the shifter section,” she explained. “They may accept you, but there’s no way they’d be accepting of Leandra.

Leandra did a double take, eyes narrowed.

How the hell does she know my name?

Bethany smiled, as if she knew what was on Leandra’s mind. “Enjoy your visit.” She set the scrolls down on the table.

Lucia took a seat, indicating for Leandra to join her.

Leandra dropped into the velvet covered plush chair, reached for the scroll and unrolled it.

“This is the menu?”

There were no prices, all that was listed were the entrees, appetizers, desserts, and a wine and cocktail selection.

“How do you know how much everything costs?” she asked Lucia.

“There’s no cost. Quake picks up the tab.”

“For us? Why?”

“No.” Leandra opened her own menu. “For everyone.”

What kind of place does this?

“So the restaurant pays everyone’s tab?”

“No. Quake does.”

Leandra cocked her head. “That’s the…” She didn’t know what else to say.

“This is Quake’s place. It’s named after him.” A slight tremor rolled through Lucia’s voice.

Whoa. What’s this? How could I not know?

Sure she lived in the swamp, but she did hear talk. Why didn’t she know this?

She studied her aunt. “Tante—”

Lucia glanced down at her menu. “You’re no longer a child. Call me Lucia.”

Not to mention, she looks young enough to be my sister.
Those shifters with their longevity. They managed to age better than witches, and live longer too.

Leandra nodded. “Lucia, do you know this Quake person?”

“Know him?” The one-shoulder shrug thing again, then, “I used to know him.”

Leandra waited for Lucia to continue.

Nothing. Lucia’s eyes were glued to the menu. When she looked up, she said, “So what are your plans?”

“To stay in Mémé’s cabin.”

“She left it to you in her will. You’ll find out at the reading. I won’t be there.”

“Why did she leave it to me?” Mémé had two daughters after all. “And where will you be?”

“I’m leaving New Orleans. I have no reason to be here. You’re the only one she could leave it to. Not me, since she knew I didn’t want to stay in town. Not Rochelle.”

Leandra didn’t need to ask why Mémé wouldn’t leave it to her mother. Rochelle would have burned it to the ground. But still it would have been nice to hear something, anything, from Lucia. Leandra felt as though she’d lived in a vacuum. She barely knew anything about her aunt or her mother. Or even her grandmother’s life prior to Leandra’s birth.

“Why not Rochelle?”

Lucia fixed her with a pointed stare. “I’d think that was obvious.” She rolled the menu back into a scroll. “I’m having the daily special. It’s been a long time since I’ve had decent etouffee. You?” Her tone told Leandra that all talk about family was over.

Tears burned Leandra’s eyes. Etouffee was her Mémé’s specialty. “Same. I’m going to the restroom to wash up.” And get rid of the sadness that began to eat at her, knowing that she’d be in the cabin.

Without Mémé.

N
ew Orleans
, Louisiana

T
heo leaned
against the wall at Quake and tried to get control of his lion. He’d seen her walk in. His lion had reacted with such fervor it had pushed Theo close to a shift.

Yeah, that’s what I need to do, shift at Quake and start a goddamned supernatural world war.

True that
, his lion agreed.

It would not be a good thing.

But that woman.

Fuck.

She’d started a campaign of battles within him. His lion battled with common sense, wanting to approach her. His cock battled with his mind. His nose picked up her scent and let it imprint on his soul, damned near making her a part of him.

How can this be?

His lion roared deep within his head.
She’s the one.
He roared the sentiment with vigor and a volume that made Theo want to grab his head.

There was no way to know that
, Theo insisted, arguing with himself, with his lion, with his senses, with his soul, with the universe.

He couldn’t erase the image of her, though it was a brief glimpse.

Skin the color of mocha, exactly the shade of the beverages Maylene—his boss’s housekeeper would make for them every afternoon. A perfect, cream-topped concoction that coursed down his throat, warming him. Yes, this woman he’d seen, she was that same shade and left him with the same warmth.

Warmth, hell. She left him with a hot sensation.

Yeah, hot.

His pants tightened in all the wrong places, for all the right reasons. He was in public for fuck’s sake, even though Quake was dimly lit.

He’d seen her, then couldn’t go back into the room he was in with Lézare and some of Lézare’s business associates. Lézare—his boss.

And best friend.

When Theo first arrived in America, not long ago, he’d been in New York, roaming the streets, looking for his bearings. He’d chanced an excursion into a territory controlled by the Romanoff polar bear shifters.

One of the Romanoffs, a hotheaded shifter called John, had decided to teach the roaming lion shifter a lesson. He and his group of shifters had chased Theo through the dark alleys.

Yeah, Theo was no fool. There was no way he could take half a dozen polar bear shifters.

He fought them. Bravely. Bloody and aching, he could see the writing on the wall. He couldn’t win this battle.

Of course he got the hell out of there as quick as he could.

Not quick enough.

Or maybe if he’d only known the terrain of the concrete jungle better, he wouldn’t have found himself cornered.

But he was cornered.

And so very fucked.

Those polar bear shifters were going to kick his ass. Leave him dead.

But Theo knew he’d take at least one of them with him.

He’d just begun to let his lion take over and shift into his feline when he heard a throat clearing behind him.

He’d whirled around, ready to face more polar bears and wondering how the hell they’d managed to flank him.

Except it wasn’t a polar bear. It was a white tiger shifter, dark haired, dark eyed, a mischievous smile on his face.

Theo took an instinctive and instant liking to the man. Something about his tiger connected with Theo’s lion.

“John Romanoff. Still the bully, aren’ you.” The white tiger shifter addressed the polar bear with a drawl that seemed to have a French accent laced throughout, dropping the last consonant, as Theo learned was Lézare’s way.

The drawl was lazy, but the man’s eyes were predatory.

This white tiger was no one to fuck with.

It didn’t hurt that more than a handful of the largest shifters Theo had ever seen stepped forward, out of the darkness, some leaping from fire escapes, landing with feline precision.

The white tiger shifter was accompanied by a variety of animal shifters. Bear. Panther. Wolf. Each of the newly arrived shifters stood behind the white tiger, ready to do battle.

“Lézare Arceneaux,” the polar bear shifter called John Romanoff said with a frown. “You’re trespassing.”

Theo glanced between the two shifters.

The one he’d called Lézare, with the French-tipped southern drawl released a laugh, dug a phone out of his pocket and pressed on the screen. He paused, then said, “Mikhail. John’s up to his pranks again.” He gave the polar bear shifter a glance as if he were talking about a petulant toddler. “I’d hate to have to kick his ass and send him home with his polar bear tail tucked between his legs. Want to talk to your son or…” Lézare arched a brow at John Romanoff. He held his phone up. “Want to talk to your father?”

John Romanoff grunted, then released a low growl from deep within his gut. Without a word, he turned around, a full one-eighty, then sauntered away nonchalantly.

Except the straightness to his spine displayed his agitation.

The white tiger shifter put his phone away and held his hand out to Theo. “Lézare Arceneaux. Though I guess you figured that out.”

“Theo Ricoletti.” Theo shook Lézare’s hand. “Thank you. They had me.”

“Maybe. But you’d have taken a few of them down with you. We couldn’t let you be taken out though. We watched you handle yourself. Impressive. Where’s that accent from?”

Theo released a sigh. He figured the day would come when someone would ask him about his past. Shifters stayed in packs, or found new packs. Being solo like this would raise questions. “Greece. Then Italy.”

Lézare nodded. “Interested in a job?”

Theo fought to keep his composure.
Just like that?
“Seriously?” Then suspicion set in. “Doing what?”

“Security. We’re in Louisiana. New Orleans.” He pronounced it more like N’Awlins, but Theo didn’t take long to get accustomed to Lézare’s accent.

He didn’t take long to get accustomed to anything about Lézare. They’d become tight friends.

Fast forward, and now here he was, security for the Arceneaux clan because he could handle himself in a scuffle.

And that was all thanks to his father, Marco Ricoletti, who’d seen to his education, and part of that included the art of defense and offense.

T
oday
, standing against the wall in Quake, Theo felt Lézare’s presence before he saw him. He felt his heartbeat as he approached, recognized his footfall, and waited for Lézare to get close enough.

Lézare stood next to him, then leaned against the wall. “Not coming back to the gathering?” He indicated the room with the other shifters in it.

“Just taking a second.” How could he possibly explain to his best friend and boss that he’d seen a woman and she’d started a chain reaction in him that he needed a few moments to recover from.

Plus, I wouldn’t mind catching another look at her. Maybe even a quick hello.

She’d been in the witch section. That should bother him. Theo knew it should. Hell, it should have been a deterrent.

Shifters and witches.

Oil and water.

But still—he released a sigh—that damned chemistry.

“You sure you’re okay?” Lézare pushed.

“Fine.” Theo had just glanced at Lézare when movement caught his attention. He glanced toward the movement.

Her!

His pulse jumped. His heart rammed into his throat at the same time. He couldn’t swallow because his damned heart was there blocking his esophagus. Or maybe that was a brick.

Who the hell knew?

He felt eyes on him, glanced at Lézare.

Sure enough, Lézare had locked his gaze on Theo, studying him.

And just like that, Theo knew that Lézare had read him.

Read his reaction.

Read his pulse.

Sensed and maybe even scented his emotions.

Lézare’s eyes narrowed, his gaze glued to the woman. “No, Theo.”

“No what?” Theo couldn’t tear his scrutiny from the curvy figure that was turning the corner into the ladies’ restroom.

“Not her, Theo. Never her. She’s…” Lézare shook his head. “Just no. Stay away from the swamp witch.” Lézare turned his attention to the room the rest of their party was in. “Coming?”

“In a second.”

Lézare shook his head. “Brother, be careful. Keep your distance. Some things shouldn’t happen.”

Is it because she’s a witch?

Theo had questions. Many of them. But he knew Lézare as well as he knew himself. Lézare wasn’t interested in covering this matter with him. He was done.

And with that, Lézare left the hallway and reentered the room.

A magnet the size of Texas drew him closer as if he were a hapless piece of steel. He made his way toward the restrooms in the red hall. He should have headed toward the blue shifter restrooms. Sure, he knew that. Just as he knew he shouldn’t want this woman the way he did.

How do you even begin to describe the chemical reaction of this attraction?

He stopped in front of the red men’s restroom, hoping no warlocks would exit.

That’s all I need. To be caught here.

The ladies’ restroom door opened.

Out she slipped. Elegant and with the ease of a panther sliding through the rainforest.

Witch—everything about her screamed witch.

It should have screamed a warning to Theo.

It wouldn’t have mattered.

Her eyes drew to him. She studied him briefly, a dilation behind her eerie, light eyes. It was like looking into moonlight.

He was transfixed.

She inhaled a breath, softly.

A sound his shifter hearing had no problem picking up. The sound amplified through his body. Her pulse raised, beginning a tempo that grew ever faster.

“Shifter.” The word glided across her lips, the decibel level so low, no human, and even some supernatural beings wouldn’t have picked it up—unless they were standing next to her, like Theo was.

Theo nodded. “Who are you? I have to know.”

Just then, he caught the sight of motion in his peripheral vision.

He turned.

Another woman appeared. She resembled this ethereal being that Lézare had called a swamp witch.

The newcomer appraised Theo. He returned in kind. She was a mystery. He sensed a witch, but saw a shifter in her eyes. Without her making any attempt to mask the shifter within her, he could see it was a white tiger shifter.

And yet the familial resemblance to the swamp witch was undeniable.

The newcomer put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “Leandra. Let us go.”

Leandra.

His lion roared in Theo’s mind, drowning out more than his heartbeat and any thoughts he had.