PrimalFlavor (13 page)

This time though, instead of shying away from the images in
his head, the fantasy of a life spent with Colette, Zach considered it rationally,
or as rationally as a horny tiger shifter could. She was tough. He liked tough
women. She was independent. Maybe too independent, he thought as she lifted a
crate too heavy for her. She wasn’t afraid of him, or anything really. He
admired that, even as he worried about her. And it was that worry, the constant
concern he felt for her, that made Zach think about what he expected to happen
with Colette. What’d started out as raging lust was turning into something
else, something softer and warmer than just sizzling sexual attraction.

Father and daughter sat side-by-side on the tailgate of her
truck, their hands working on straightening wire. Willis said something under
his breath that made Colette laugh and Zach’s heart did a strange flip-flop in
his chest. He wished he could say it was something like indigestion, but
watching her dad reach out to tuck hair behind her ear in a move he’d probably
done a million times over the years, Zach finally stopped fighting his
instincts.

If it took him the rest of time, he’d make Colette his.

* * * * *

When Colette woke up the following morning, it was with the
knowledge that Zach hadn’t come over, hadn’t knocked on her door, sultry eyes
watching her like a hungry beast and his signature killer smile ready to slay
her. She stumbled off the sofa, nearly going to her knees when her legs finally
came to life. Pins and needles burned all the way down to her toes. She leaned
against the sofa with a wince. No more sleeping on the sofa. It wasn’t exactly
comfortable for all its chic design. She was never going to let her cousin
Kanda help her furniture-shop again. Yes, it looked good, but it was a bitch to
sleep on. Not that she made a habit of crashing in her living room. The last
time— A blush heated her cheeks at the memory of the last time she fell asleep
on the couch. If Zach had been there, he could’ve carried her to bed the same
way, but he hadn’t shown.

Once her legs were under her control again, she shuffled to
the door, her heart pounding with excitement. Maybe he was standing on the
other side with a knowing smirk on his face. But a peek showed no tiger
lounging on her porch, no naked Zach storming up the stairs. Disappointment sat
heavy in her throat.

She stood in the middle of her living room, feeling lost.
How ridiculous was that? The man had only come to her house once, yet in that
one night he’d managed to leave his imprint everywhere. She couldn’t look at
her kitchen without seeing him leaning against the counter, or sprawled on her
table. Her sofa was another piece of furniture she couldn’t look at without
remembering what he’d done to her on it. Getting horny over furniture was just
messed up. Seriously messed up.

The muscles of her face hardened as she realized he’d taken
the coward’s way out. “Well, fuck him,” she said to the empty house, trying to
ignore the way it seemed to absorb the sound of her voice and bounce it back.
“Better he left now before I put a hole in his troublesome ass.”

Concentrating on how much work he’d caused her, how much
money his actions were going to cost her was a lot easier than thinking about
how easily she’d been suckered in by a handsome face. She hurried through her
morning routine, grumbling under her breath all the while. As she bathed, she
scrubbed her skin harder than usual, causing her to tear up a little. She
wasn’t crying over a puffed-up excuse of a house cat. Her sunburn stung, that
was all.

And when she got out of the shower, her eyes were dry. No
tears, no problem. Maybe it was time to ask Kanda to come out for a visit. She
hadn’t had a night out with her best friend and cousin in months. Or maybe she
really should go to New Orleans. It had to be better than hanging around Bayou
Ange, watching the road for a man who’d run at the first sign of trouble. If
she played her cards right, she could get Beau or Cotton to take her place on
her dad’s boat for a couple of days. She pulled on a pair of her favorite jeans
and a white tank with the B.A.S.T. logo on the front. She’d probably have to be
designated driver for the boys on one of their wild nights, but it would be
worth it if she could leave the area for a few days.

Thinking of going away, if only for a weekend, helped center
her and drive away the hurt Zach’s desertion caused. She didn’t need him or any
man. She’d proved that time and time again. Sure, it would’ve been nice to fuck
something other than her toys for a change, but did she really want to deal
with the problems that entailed? Like, what if he was a bad lay? What if the
gossip around the parish was all wrong? Or what if he had fleas? The evil
thought popped into her mind and it helped wipe a little of her anger away. She
knew he didn’t have fleas, but it was a great image. And she used it to get her
out the door of her house.

Colette clomped down the stairs, her thoughts far away. At
least until she saw something shiny out the corner of her eye. Knowing she and
her dad had picked up the traps she could keep, she stopped well short of the
bottom stairs and stared. Brand-new crab traps were stacked neatly along the steps,
the metal gleaming in the early-morning light. Beside them were spools of new
ropes, her others going straight to the trash since the deer would scent the
tiger on them and flee. The come-alongs, cargo straps, and even the waders
she’d left on her carport to air out had been replaced, everything shiny,
bright and new.

Her eyes widened in shock even as they darted over
everything, trying to take it all in. She hadn’t owned new equipment for…well,
a long time. Most of what she used was inherited crap from her dad and cousins.
It was like Christmas. She darted down the rest of the stairs, nearly tripping
over her feet in her haste. She stumbled through the maze of traps, touching
them reverently. New, never-been-used before, they were the best things she’d ever
gotten.

Over the years, she’d made a wish list of things she wanted
to buy, things she needed to replace, but something always came up to prevent
her from getting them. While she made a living on the water, she’d never strike
it rich, so her wish list was almost more of a bucket list of things she’d love
to have. Here, she saw everything she needed to hunt and fish. It was as though
whoever bought this had taken her dog-eared hunting magazines and went
shopping. She reached out to touch a high-dollar game bag, her fingers
trembling a bit.

The question was who had done this? Her dad? She shook her
head at the thought. Her parents made decent money, but they didn’t have the
kind of money it took to fully equip someone out. In fact, she didn’t know
anyone in the Bayou who could afford something like this and even if they’d all
pooled their money together, she would’ve heard about it. Nothing stayed a
secret in Bayou Ange for long.

“I hope I got everything. If I missed something, let me
know.”

Her heart seemed to stumble in her chest before galloping
wildly, hope blossoming like a morning glory with the first rays of sunlight.
Colette tried not to let it show on her face, yet there was nothing but
happiness and relief at hearing that voice. She spun slowly to look at him,
barely able to keep a goofy smile off her face. It proved impossible,
especially when she studied him.

The immaculate, unruffled tiger shifter who’d invaded her
life and her dreams looked harried and stressed. His jaw was dark with scruff,
something that only made him sexier than ever, his hair was mussed as though
he’d run his hands through it multiple times and his clothes were wrinkled. The
rumpled appearance seemed to magnify his sex appeal, at least for Colette. He’d
been sexy all clean and put together in his casual way, but looking like a man
who’d obviously stayed awake all night to replace her things, he was a dream
come true. In more ways than one. Her heart melted at his apparent care and her
stomach clenched with want. Sexiness, thy name is Zachary Trahan.

She’d missed him. Silly and pathetic as it sounded in the
much quieter, logical part of her brain, she’d wanted to wake up the same way
she had last night, with him cooking her a snack and then making her fantasies
come true. The anticipation of seeing him again, even if she’d planned to bitch
him out for ruining her traps and equipment, had come to an abrupt halt when he
didn’t show. Now though, wonder overcame any anger she’d felt the day before.
Wonder that he’d gone through the trouble to replace everything.

“Why?” she found herself asking.

He grimaced and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I
wasn’t thinking that night.” He tilted his head back to stare at the underside
of the house above him for a few minutes before looking at her again. His face
was resolved, as though he’d come to a major decision. “My tiger,” he paused
and shook his head. “No, I don’t think rationally where you’re involved.” He
ran a hand through his hair. Colette wasn’t sure the last time she’d seen such
a stressed-out man, maybe her dad the day before when he realized Zach was
staying for supper. “I was an idiot,” he finally said in a near mumble. “And
I’m sorry.” His shoulders lifted as though a huge weight had fallen from them.

Colette had seen hard-given apologies before. She had two
younger brothers who’d made her teenage life hell. How many times had her mama
made the boys tell her they were sorry for some infraction or another? Zach
reminded her of that, except where she’d still wanted to wring her brothers’
necks, she felt more inclined to forgive the man in front of her. Only this
once, and only because he’d made restitution. She supposed a better woman would
turn down his expensive gifts, telling him an apology was more than enough, but
she wasn’t
couillon
. The crab traps alone were nearly forty bucks apiece
and he’d bought her five dozen. She’d be able to make enough to pay him back
for them in a couple of seasons since she wouldn’t have to constantly trade
them out for repair.

And she would pay him back, she decided as she studied him.
He’d broken her traps, yes, but he hadn’t done it alone. The wolf had helped.
The other things he’d apparently scent-marked, well she didn’t even want to try
to figure that one out, but she would’ve had to replace those things eventually
anyway. It wouldn’t do any good to think this thing with him—whatever it
was—would last for long.

“Thank you,” she finally told him when he started looking
nervous again. “You didn’t have to do this, but I appreciate it. And I’ll pay
you back as soon as I get a chance to put them on the water.” She did her best
not to think about ways she could pay him back. On her back, on her knees, on
his lap. Her heart sped up and the apex of her legs ached at the thought.

She prayed to everything that he wouldn’t guess what was on
her mind, that she wasn’t eyeing him like a hunter did a ten-point buck.

Lucky for her, Zach was just as stubborn as she was because
he shook his head. “I don’t want you to pay me back.”

Oh the ways she wanted to let him take his payment. If he
was half as naughty as rumor suggested, he would’ve come up with that nefarious
plan on his own and taken advantage of her. Or maybe that was just wishful
thinking on her part. Men, apparently even those who’d tried to make a meal out
of her, didn’t seem to realize she had damsel-in-distress fantasies as well.

Zach, though, didn’t seem to pick up on her hunger, her need
for him to twirl his invisible mustache and say, “I know exactly how you can
pay me back, Miz Robicheaux…bend over.”

Stifling a wistful sigh, she finally shrugged when he cocked
his head to the side. “You can’t always get what you want and all that. I’m
paying you back.” To show the discussion was closed, she slapped her hands on
her thighs, feeling lighter—and hornier—than she had before. “So, you ready for
your swamp tour?”

She did it again. If Zach’s cock grew any harder, he’d burst
out of his jeans and fuck Colette on the bench seat of her truck. He’d tried
distracting himself with views of the boring road, glimpses of more houses
perched in the swamp, counting potholes, anything but the woman sitting next to
him smelling of sex and sin. And looking at his lap with longing.

The scent of her arousal was thick in the air, the constant
shifting of her legs as she drove and those sly, hungry glances were enough to
leave him with sweat trickling down his back. He clutched his knees, his
fingers pressing deep, hoping a little pain would distract him. Then she peeked
over at him again, her tongue pressing to her sexy upper lip. He bit back a
whimper.

He’d spent a lot of time thinking last night as he ran all
over trying to replace the traps he’d broken and the equipment he’d ruined with
his possessiveness. All that thinking had been about Colette, about why she of
all the women he’d known touched off the need to own her, to put his mark on
her in some way. It wasn’t until he found himself promising desserts for two
hungry she-bears that he realized he was whoring himself out for her. For
Colette. And he didn’t even mind.

When Kitty required beignets for an entire month in exchange
for allowing her mate and husband, Monk, to help him find the traps and have
them transported to Maison Rouge within three hours, Zach had agreed without a
second thought. When Daisy demanded cakes once a week for every week of her
pregnancy in exchange for her mate’s help, Zach hadn’t batted an eyelash. Not
when it meant he was able to get Ram’s band to help him cart everything through
the swamp to Colette’s house in quick order. The best part though, was Monk and
Ram hadn’t said a word about his weakness for the human hunter. They’d just
given him knowing looks and helped out where they could.

And it was only as he listened to the complaints of Ram’s
friends as they made numerous trips back and forth to her house that Zach
realized she’d somehow burrowed herself into his heart. He wasn’t calling it
love. Yet. He liked her, liked everything about her, even her stubbornness. The
flashes he kept having of a life without her in it, without smelling her sweet
scent or hearing her soft drawl were like waking nightmares. His tiger’s hunger
for her and need to stamp his territorial markings all over her only solidified
the knowledge that Zach needed Colette in his life.

He would have her in his life. He just had to figure out
how. His first thought was that he couldn’t just fuck and mark her the way he
would’ve if she had been a shifter. Even if she was shifter savvy, it wouldn’t
mean a goddamn thing to her unless she cared for him. His stomach twisted and
his tiger rumbled unhappily.

And there was the thought that kept circling around his head
all night. What about him could possibly entice a woman to care for him? It was
such a pathetic thought, he’d shied away from it several times. He’d never really
battled his self-esteem. He was a tiger, after all. He knew he was handsome,
had lethal grace, could fuck like a dream and all other things women had been
telling him since he was old enough to know what to do with his dick, but not a
single one of them had ever fallen in love with him. They hadn’t exactly fought
to keep him in their beds. There’d been one crazy woman who did all kinds of
weird stalker shit to him, but he hadn’t even been her main focus. She’d gone
after the easygoing Monk Badeaux. Zach had been a side project.

They hit a big pothole and the truck bucked hard, drawing
his attention to the woman driving. She handled the big vehicle as if it were
nothing, confident in her ability to take care of herself. God, what a sexy
woman. Zach wasn’t sure he could’ve picked a better mate for himself. And he
didn’t even stumble over the word in his mind the way he had weeks ago.

A long, wooden building with the faded words, Bayou Ange
Swamp Tours, appeared up ahead, distracting Zach from his thoughts. He glanced
over at Colette, their gazes catching for a moment. His heart tripped over
itself and his cock lurched for freedom. Only the knowledge that he had to show
her there was more to him than sex held him in his seat. Otherwise, he would’ve
been all over her like white on rice.

After what seemed like hours, she looked away, blinking at
the empty parking lot. “We’re here,” she said in a hoarse tone. “Let’s go.”

Normally Zach would’ve done the gentlemanly thing and opened
her door for her. He wanted to do that, to show her he wasn’t an asshole, but
he didn’t need her to get a good look at the lead pipe in his pants. He took
the time it took her to get out of the truck and climb the steps of the
building to readjust his dick, try some deep breathing exercises, anything to
make his erection go away.

No such luck. Colette’s fumbling with her keys caused them
to fall from her hands. When she bent over to pick them up again, Zach had to
bite his lip to keep from groaning at the round curve of her ass, hands itching
to palm the firm globes. He’d never been so desperately hungry for a woman,
especially not a woman he’d vowed not to touch. For now. Once he made her fall
in love with him though, all bets were off. He just needed to survive the
excruciating pain in his balls until that happened.

She turned to wave to him, her pert little tits swaying
beneath her top.

“I hope this only takes a few weeks,” he muttered to himself
as he eased from the truck. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to last any longer than
that before he touched her.

The Bayou Ange Swamp Tour office was nicer on the inside
than it appeared from the outside. He heard Colette moving around somewhere in
the back, but didn’t follow. No, God knew he needed as much time as he could
afford to regain his control. Instead, he wandered the lobby area, staring at
pictures and sketches that had to date back to the late nineteenth century and
documents that had been photocopied and preserved beneath glass.

Looking at them, seeing the obvious pride the Robicheaux
clan had for their history and preserving it, made him realize he didn’t have
anything left in the bakery showing how long it’d been in his family. Probably
because he’d never really felt as though they were his family. He frowned at a
picture of people who’d taken the tour before, a much younger Colette standing
next to her dad, beaming at the camera. His grandmother used to try to tell him
about his legacy, tried to get him to love and appreciate the importance of
being a Trahan with a business that had thrived for nearly a century, but he
hadn’t wanted to hear it. What good would it do anyway? His grandmother hadn’t
really wanted him. He wasn’t really part of her family. He’d been a burden on
her, something his mother had dropped off like a bag of dirty laundry.

His frown turned into a scowl he could see in the picture
frame. Zach didn’t spend much time thinking about his childhood, didn’t dwell
on the sense of abandonment that plagued him, but being around Colette, seeing
how much her family cared stirred old ghosts.

He was positive some therapist somewhere would say he had
issues or some shit like that. If they were brave enough to even speak. Maybe
he’d clung too hard to his resentment toward his mother, hadn’t given his
grandmother a real chance to be as close to him as she’d obviously wanted.
Because looking back, he could see how she’d tried to love him. She’d taught
him everything she knew about the business, but all Zach had seen was making a
name for himself, the fame and fortune that came with being the best chef in
the state.

Moving on to another set of pictures, these surrounding an
old newspaper clipping, he made a promise to himself to go through the things
his grandmother had left for him with her passing. He hadn’t been interested in
his ancestors before, only caring that they’d paved the way for his ambitions,
but thoughts of having a mate and cubs made him want to know more about those
tigers who’d settled in Maison Rouge. If he had kids, no
when
he had
kids with that crazy Cajun woman, he wanted them to know about his family as
well as hers. He highly doubted, though, that his tiger ancestors would turn
out to be half as colorful as Colette’s.

He focused on the article in front of his face, one that
spoke of another ancestor named Alcide Robichau who’d settled in what was now
called Bayou Ange in 1768. A hunter, trapper and businessman, he’d opened a
very small trading post, which flourished in the community of Bayou Ange. There
was no mention of his relations with shifters, or why shifters never seemed to
settle in the area, but Zach figured the words “hunter” and “trapper” had a lot
to do with it. The trading post became a general store, the buildings having
been flooded out over and over through the centuries.

The last reincarnation of the original general store had
been constructed in 1893 by François Robicheaux. By 1979, the building had gone
out of use as a store and that’s when the newest descendants, Willis, Claude
and Eugene turned the old family business into a swamp tour company. A picture
beneath the article showed the three guys who’d barged into his bakery two days
before, except much younger. Their hair was long as was the style in the 70s,
mustaches hiding their upper lips, but there was no mistaking the purple eyes
of the Robicheaux family.

“Dad swears he’s going to take that picture down,” Colette
said as she entered the room again, a bag over her shoulder. “He says it makes
him look like a damn hippie.”

Zach couldn’t care less about the picture, not with the
light shining through the windows, highlighting her pale hair and dark skin.
His dick, which had thankfully deflated through his little tour of the room,
swelled to painful proportions. His tiger liked. The man thought she resembled
an angel. Then she gave him that sly, hungry look again that made his blood
pressure shoot through the roof and sweat gather along his hairline.

“I’m making a pot of coffee for the ride,” she said when all
he could do was stare at her. “I’ll also pack some water and a few snacks.” She
paused to study him and his cock twitched at the speculative look in her eyes.
“Maybe a lot of snacks.”

She turned around again, her braid whipping behind her as
she returned to the back of the building. He waited until she cleared the
doorway before he tried adjusting himself again.
Treat her with respect. Be
gentle with her. She’s not some quick shifter fuck. She’s the woman you want to
mate.
Repeating the words did nothing for his erection.

He banged his forehead on the wall. This was going to be the
longest day of his life.

* * * * *

Colette guided the boat down Bayou Lupe, enjoying the
serenity of being on the water without hunting. The occasional bald eagle
circled overhead, great wings expanded and eyes on the swamp, looking for food.
Fat catfish splashed here and there while silverfin carp leapt alongside the
boat. Zach sat on the bench in front of her, the slight breeze ruffling his
multicolored hair. His broad shoulders, which had started the tour bunched and
tight, slowly relaxed as he saw the swamp through her eyes. She could’ve taken
the party barge out or the airboat the way Alcide would have, but with only two
of them on the tour, she’d opted for the smaller sixteen-foot aluminum boat. It
made it a lot cozier and they could go places she didn’t normally get to show
her clients.

She slowed the boat as they came to a fork in the bayou.
“This is where Daddy caught a fourteen-foot alligator when he was twenty,” she
told Zach, who’d turned to look at her. She pointed at the trunk of an old
cypress tree. “You can still see where the line rubbed into the wood. He won
the record for the biggest alligator ever caught in Pointe-Aux-Chat Parish,”
she finished proudly.

Zach looked suitably impressed, which she appreciated. It
was probably no big deal for him to catch an alligator or fight with one. He
weighed as much, if not more, than most of the bayou beasts in his cat form.
Since he showed up in her life, she’d done a little research on tigers and
discovered they were one of the few predators that would attack other predators
if food was scarce and even eat them. For some reason it pleased her to know he
was the kind of predator who made others wary.

But he hadn’t made a single move on her since they got into
her truck. Colette frowned at him as he studied the tree trunk, his gold eyes
thoughtful.

He’d surprised her. When they got in the boat, he’d looked
at her and asked, “Can you show me your favorite places to go?”

Colette hadn’t known what to say to that. In all the years
she’d been doing tours with her family, no one had asked her where her favorite
spots were. Of course, none of her past clients had stared into her eyes as
though they were searching for something private and deep. She’d blushed,
pleased and flattered and horny. Thank God she’d taken a quick shortcut into the
office before meeting Zach at the boat.

She shifted to the side to hide the bag she’d grabbed on her
way out of the building. If Zach was just being polite, he’d never know what
was inside it. If he wasn’t…

Just then he glanced at her and she forgot all about
alligators and hunting and the bag of hope behind her. “Zach,” she started,
emboldened by her need for him. She took a step away from the wheel. Fuck it.
You
only live once, right? I want this man more than anything else and I’m going to
have him.

As though the fates were completely against her, a crack of
lightning streaked across the sky, followed by the ominous roll of thunder.
Colette whipped her head around to see the clouds that had seemed so idyllic
and picturesque before had turned dark and threatening. Another peal of thunder
warned more was to come. And they were in an aluminum boat.

“Shit,” she spat as she stepped behind the wheel again.
“Hold on.” Zach didn’t even question her, gripping the sides of the boat as she
spun them around and shot down the left branch of the fork in the bayou. “I
know somewhere we can ride this out,” she shouted over the roar of the engine
and the bass-like rumbles of the thunderstorm.