Stranded with a Cajun Werewolf

STRANDED WITH A CAJUN WEREWOLF

By Selena Blake

Her eyelashes fluttered for a moment and he held his breath, scrutinizing
every tiny movement. Then those aqua eyes pegged him again and his breath
came whooshing out. She looked totally out of it. Tired, sleepy, traumatized. But
she didn’t panic in his arms. Perhaps she didn’t—

“Are you an angel?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Her question startled a laugh from him. Damn, it felt good to laugh. For a man who prided himself on his easy going nature, he'd been far too tense these last few months.

“I’ve been called many things, but never an angel.”
I was the guy cursing at you as you
almost ran me off the road. I'm the idiot who can’t stop wondering who you are and what
you're running away from. And I’m the man who can’t stop looking at your lips, wondering
what they’ll taste like.

A hint of a smile curved her lips and she laid a hand over his heart. “A fallen angel?” Payment of the download fee for this ebook grants the purchaser the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to download and read this file, and to maintain a private backup copy of the file for the purchaser’s personal use ONLY.

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2011 Selena Blake

Dear Reader,

I firmly believe in true love and second chances. Burke’s book was a long time in coming. He had secrets he didn’t want to share. We’re all like that I suppose. But in his case, his secrets brought back memories he really didn’t want to tackle. In fact, he put on an easy going exterior and hid it all behind a smiling mask…until he meets Kendall.

It was quite a challenge to get him to open up, but I think the effort was worth it. All he needed was true love and a second chance. I’m hoping you enjoy this last Stormy Weather story. I can’t say writing it was all peaches and roses but in the end, I love how it came out.

This is the longest of the five Stormy Weather books and I hope you’ll find that I’ve wrapped up all loose ends and answered all your questions.

As always, I’d love to hear what you think. I can be reached at
[email protected]

or via my website
http://www.selena-blake.com.

Stay sexy,

Selena

Dedication

To all the new fans and long time fans who pushed, prodded, and begged for Burke’s book. This one’s for you. Enjoy!

Other Books by Selena Blake

Series: Stormy Weather

The Cajun’s Captive

Bitten in the Bayou

Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf (previously titled Bound & Determined) Mated to a Cajun Werewolf

Surprising Darcy

Just a Little Taste (previously titled The Wine Tasting)
Series: Deep Space Encounters

Reclaiming Isis

Rescuing Natacha

Azula’s Rebellion

Chapter One

The car came out of nowhere, horn blaring, bright lights reflecting off the curtains of falling snow. Burke Deveraux let out a curse as a streak of red passed him on the left. His wipers swiped across the windshield, trying in vain to keep the thick snow at bay. Didn't that lunatic driver realize they were in the middle of a blizzard? On a mountain road?

Despite the snow chains, the tires of his Land Rover slipped on the icy slush and his hands tightened on the wheel. Just ten more miles and he'd be to the cabin. Give or take a few.

He'd driven this road for years, but with all the white stuff coming down, it was hard to gage exactly where he was. The only thing that mattered was that he was long gone from Louisiana and whatever was in the water.

There was no other explanation for four devoted bachelors to all find love in the span of five months. And while he was happy that they'd found their mates, and he couldn't wait to become an uncle, he much preferred his bachelor lifestyle.

His brother and cousins had started talking to
him
finding
his
mate the moment André and Juliette had gotten back together. And over the last few weeks, they hadn’t let up. Even the women were in on it. The moment his favorite ski resort had announced an early season opening, he'd high tailed it out of there.

Burke didn't want a mate.

He just wanted some peace and quiet and to catch some fresh powder. And to forget the memories that clawed at him every time he saw one the women that had infiltrated Deveraux pack.

What he hadn't bet on was trading hurricanes for the blizzard bearing down on him now. Or the flash of red that jerked his attention to the side of the road.

He stepped hard on the breaks, trying to avoid the red car and the snow bank. For a nauseating moment the world was a streak of white. Burke’s hands strangled the steering wheel as he fought to keep the tires on the road.

The antilock brakes kicked in and the vehicle slowed, but Burke exhaled too soon.

In the blink of an eye the tires slipped in the slick snow and the back wheels swung right. Curses rent the air and his luggage rolled around like a pebble in a tin can. Gin let out a startled bark from the back seat.

Finally, when everything was still, the SUV was pointed down the mountain. A gust of wind cleared enough snow out of the air that he could see the bright red car half buried by a pile of snow/half dangling off the side of the mountain.

He unclenched his teeth, worked his jaw and huffed out a sigh. So much for a relaxing vacation.

The formerly groggy Labrador was now wide-awake in the backseat. Gin let out a deep bark and smacked Burke in the cheek with his tail. He let out another woof, his nose pressed against the side window.

“You all right?”

Gin sighed in that purely canine way that said he wasn’t thrilled with the situation.

The other driver made no move to back out of the dune and Burke figured that the idiot had wrecked his car. He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. He'd report the wreck and wait until the wrecker got here.
If
the wrecker got here.

No signal.

Great.
He tossed the phone aside and reached behind the passenger's seat for his coat.

Maybe the lunatic in the other car had a phone that would work. Tendrils of snow swooshed into the car as he opened the door. Bracing against the icy wind he planted one boot in the ankle deep snow and then the other.

Tugging on his thick Northface coat he headed down the road toward the other car once again questioning his decision to try to beat the storm.

The collision had killed the engine, mangling what he could see of the front end.

Ah hell.

A blonde lay hunched over the steering wheel, not moving. Blood soaked the back of her grey sweatshirt. He knocked on the window and wished he'd tugged on his gloves. The woman didn't move. He peered into the car, looking for a phone, and saw a large purse wedged between her chest and the steering wheel.

He tested the handle of her door. Locked. Figured. The small window behind the driver’s seat was shattered, half the glass missing. He reached through the gaping hole and flipped the lock.

Wrenching the door open he checked the pulse at her throat. Still thumping. He braced both hands around her neck and the base of her skull and then, as gently as he could, settled her back in her seat and took stock of her injuries.

And arrestingly adorable features. She looked like an angel, a cherub, with glossy pink lips. With a bloody gash across her forehead and — was that a pink streak in her hair? He leaned closer. And a thick purple stripe too.

A fierce wind howled over head, making the trees sway and groan. She gave a soft moan, and then, as if she'd awoken, her body went rigid.

“You're okay,
petit
. Just relax. Where do you hurt?” Stunning aqua blue eyes met his for an instant before she closed them again, wincing.

The fear he’d glimpsed there shocked him. “Please,” she said, her voice hoarse and barely a whisper. He leaned toward her to hear over the roar of the elements. “Don't let…him…take me.” There was a raw desperation to her plea and somehow he knew that this woman had rarely, if ever, asked for help. But she was asking now. No. She was begging.

He pivoted to look back down the road. Aside from the brilliant white snow, all he saw were boney grey tree trunks. It wasn't fit for man or polar bear out here. Who the hell was chasing her? Better question, what was
she
doing in this storm?

The woman didn't answer. She passed out cold, her body limp in the seat again.

Gritting his teeth he surveyed the damage to her car. He'd be surprised if it wasn't totaled.

Much less ran.

What he needed was a cell phone signal.

Hoping she didn't wake up, freak out, and deck him in the balls, he leaned into the car and unzipped her purse. Using her door as cover from the wind, he squatted down and opened the bag. He'd never snooped through a woman's purse before. Had never had any need to, until now. And though he wasn't sure what he'd expected to find, he had at least hoped it would contain a cell phone.

Or a flare gun.

Hell, at this point, with cold snow biting his ass, he'd settle for a homing pigeon.

But what he found inside her bag was baffling. A curling iron that had seen better days, half a bag of Doritos, and a smorgasbord of cosmetics. Mostly lip gloss. In every shade and flavor imaginable. But no cell phone.

Is this how she planned on protecting herself? Distract the guy with a flash of Berry Tasty lipstick and the scent of flavored corn chips, then beat him over the head with the curling iron before choking him with the frayed wire?

He would have laughed if the situation weren't so dire. The car let out an agonizing groan as another blast of air hit them, whipping her hair away from her face.

Maybe he could head back down the mountain for help but in this weather, who knew how long it would take him to return. She'd have frost bite by the time he got back. No, he couldn’t leave her.

What the hell are you doing, Deveraux? You're not a knight on a white steed. Just
close the door and get on the road. She’s not your problem.

But he couldn't stop the protective instincts surging inside him. He was after all, male and a werewolf, both of which made him territorial to the core. Besides, what kind of asshole left a complete stranger, an unconscious woman, alone in a blizzard to fend for herself?

He glanced at her body. She wore a pair of jeans and a thin looking sweater. Letting his eyes trail down her ultra curvy frame he frowned at the sneakers on her feet. Way to prepare for the Great White North, lady.

He flipped open her wallet and glanced at her photo. She was truly angelic when awake and unbloodied. Her name was Kendall Carver from somewhere he’d never heard of in Florida state.

All right, Kendall Carver from Florida, let’s get you out of here.

After zipping her purse he carefully scooped her up. Settling her against his chest he turned for his Land Rover and tried to ignore the delicious feel and sweet scent of the beautiful woman unconscious in his arms.

A loud crack sounded overhead. Burke’s gaze jerked up to the ice covered trees.
Pop
.

Muscles tensed, he bolted for his SUV as a massive tree sliced through the forest, raining ice and snow around them. The boom of tree connecting with earth jolted his bones.

There was an instant of groaning metal, then a bright flash of light, then a wave of heat and a loud bang. Sheltering the woman in his arms, he dared a glance over his shoulder. Her car was no more.

Gin barked from the backseat, but Burke needed no urging. He wrenched the rear passenger’s door open and told his companion to get in the back. Gin obeyed the order, his big black nose twitching as he tried to catch Kendall’s scent. Somehow Burke managed to adjust the seats and settle her without jarring her too badly. At least he hoped so. She didn't rouse.

He shrugged out of his coat and tucked it around her from chin to foot.

Shutting the door, he surveyed the damage. Through the thick snow he saw the massive tree laying where he’d just been standing, now a pile of splintered wood. The debris covered his footprints.