Stranded with a Cajun Werewolf (3 page)

Startled by his masculine beauty, she sucked in a painful breath. Firelight glinted off
his dark eyes and shadows played across his arrestingly handsome features highlighting a
strong jaw and kissable lips. His hair was golden in the warm light and long, almost
brushing his shoulders.

Electricity gathered in the space, filling it with an odd, but not entirely scary sort of
tension.

He knelt by the fire and rearranged the logs. She watched his easy movements. Who
was this man? So big. So quiet and self assured. Ready and able to battle the elements.

There was another snap-pop and then a steady blaze lit the room. Kendall glanced up
at the cavernous ceiling. A stone room with jagged walls surrounded them. A cave…it had to
be.

She tried to sit up but a shooting pain sliced through her back. Crying out, she sagged
against the hard ground and closed her eyes.

“Don’t try to move.” His voice came from the darkness and when she opened her eyes
he was right there with her, stretched out along side of her, sharing his warmth. She
concentrated on breathing in and out, ignoring the pain.

It helped to stare at his lips. They gave her something to focus on. And for one blissful
minute, the world fell away.

His head dipped toward hers and she closed her eyes again, silently willing him to
kiss her, to take the pain away. To wash away the fear and replace it with happiness and
hope. Somehow she knew that this man…he was not like the others. He wasn’t like her
father. He wasn’t like the man she was supposed to be mated to. He was different. Powerful.

Cunning. Caring.

* * *

He checked his cell phone signal again before turning it off to conserve the battery.

Hopefully tomorrow he could get word back to his brother that he’d arrived safely. No doubt with the various threats the Deveraux men had received in the past they’d be worried about Burke’s silence.

Burke raked a hand down his face. He wasn’t a healer like André, but he knew the chances were good she was going to get an infection. As an immortal, he didn’t know a damn thing about them.

Aiming the tweezers at the jagged tear in her flesh he held his breath and sent up a silent prayer to whoever was listening. Kendall came awake instantly, her body tightening like a plank of wood. Her cry echoed through the cabin, the raw sounds of agony thundering in his ears.

Burke put his hand in the middle of her blood covered back and pressed down gently.

“You’re okay,
chéri
.”

She bucked against him, gargled sounds pouring from her lips. She was stronger than she looked. “Shh…” he soothed. This was not how he’d planned to use his bed on vacation.

“We gotta get this cleaned up.”

Though she fell silent, her body shook. One deep breath after another expanded her ribcage beneath his palm. The way her muscles trembled he could tell she was fighting the pain as much as she was fighting him.

“Who are you?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“Name’s Burke Deveraux.” He used his free hand to dab up a small stream of blood with a square of white cotton. “You got a bullet in yer shoulder, know that?” She huffed a sigh into the pillow, her words muffled. “I’m aware of it, yes. What are you going to do?”

She turned her head so that she was looking in his direction.

“I’m gonna get it out.” If possible. Her body tensed. “You need to relax. It’ll hurt less.” Or so he was told.

“Are you a—ouch! Are you a doctor? Do you know what you’re doing?” She sounded close to tears. Or worse, hysterics. Burke wasn’t big on either.

“Just hold still.”

“Wait!”

Burke bit back an impatient sigh. “What?”

“Shouldn’t I…you know, bite down on something? Drink a shot of vodka first?”

“I ain’t got no vodka. Bite the pillow.” Then he aimed the tips of the tweezers at the hunk of metal lodged beneath her skin.

Her body shook with sobs as he inserted the tweezers.

“Shh. Relax,
petit
.” She did neither.

A few moments later her voice echoed off the polished wooden walls again. “Just…let me…die.”

He blew out a sigh. The pain must be excruciating for her to wish for death. But she wasn’t like him. She, with her cute nose and delicate features, wasn’t immortal. She wasn’t immune to disease…and gunshots. Or infection. He angled the tweezers deeper and felt the clank of metal against metal.

“Stop crying, Kendall. Makes my job helluva lot harder.” She put on a brave front.

Almost...
He gritted his teeth, hating that he was causing her so much distress and yet at the same time, knowing it needed doing.

“Just…leave…it!” Her voice was low, breathy.

He twisted the tweezers.

“Who shot you anyway?” Her body went lax beneath his palm.

She didn’t answer. He leaned down to look her in the eye but she’d passed out. Quickly he checked the pulse at her neck and found the same steady rhythm. Touching her, feeling the healthy thump-thump-thump against his skin did crazy things to his mind and body. Things that he wouldn’t…couldn’t examine now.

He gave the tweezers a tug and a hunk of metal emerged from her shoulder, bloody and disfigured. The bullet looked like it’d hit several things before landing in her shoulder. A lucky shot? She was lucky it hadn’t been a few inches higher. Why had she been speeding up a mountain rather than toward a hospital?

He set the tweezers and bullet aside and set about cleaning and bandaging her wound.

He should probably stitch up the gash but he didn’t have the supplies for that. Hopefully she’d be all right until he could get her to a doctor. It was gonna leave one helluva scar though.

He pushed away his curiosity about her as he applied the last strip of tape to the bright white gauze. There was nothing more that he could do for her now. He’d wake her in a few hours and offer her pain killer.

As he washed his hands he tried to ignore the smell of blood. It had been a long time since he’d been on a hunt. Since he’d chased a creature down.

His more civilized side had honed over the years, taking him further and further from his native instincts. The need to charge, race across the land and attack. To sink his teeth into a warm body and go for the kill.

It was much easier to stop by a butcher for a big, meaty steak.

Much tastier too.

But that luxury didn’t change who and what he was. He stared out the bathroom window at the frozen world beyond. In the distance he could just make out the line of Fur trees shivering in the wind. His cabin was surrounded by two hundred acres of forest. Here it was safe to run and romp as long as his paws would carry him.

Getting away from the city, away from work was a treat these days. On the other hand, his years of dedication brought many extravagances, like electricity during one of the worst blizzards in a century, not to mention the best coffee money could buy.

After checking on the woman in his bed he headed for the shed outside. That generator purchase would come in handy, at least until the gasoline ran out. But at four hours a day, he figured he could run the refrigerator and coffee maker for a few weeks if he needed to.

Once he’d programmed the generator to turn on at breakfast, lunch, dinner and just before bed, he headed inside. A steaming mug of El Injerto sounded damn good right about now.

Chapter Three

Florida, midnight

Carl Steinhurst marched past the ornate clock on the mantle as it struck nine.

Impatient, he took his place behind the massive wooden desk, steepling his fingers as he waited for his daily update on the Kendall situation. As soon as this call was complete he could get back to the two beautiful whores adorning the large silk sofa on the opposite wall of his office.

His hand hovered over the receiver as he waited. And waited. His gaze flicked to the clock again. One minute past.

He sucked in an annoyed breath as he glared back at the phone. The instant it rang, he snatched it up.

Luckily, he’d trained the small talk out of his help. He had no time or need for such things. Down to business. Always business.

“She got away again,” the voice said without preamble.

Carl’s grip tightened on the cordless phone as his fangs lengthened. “She what?”

“She got away from us boss. She’s smarter than she looks—“ He leaned forward, elbows digging into the polished wood. “That’s my betrothed you’re talking about weasel. Watch your mouth.” One of these days he was going to have to see about getting better help. Someone smarter and more capable. These goons worked for peanuts and until he could stake his claim on the Carver lands he couldn’t afford anyone better.

“Use her cell phone to track her.”

“It’s off, boss.”

Sometimes he really did think he was talking to children. “As soon as she turns it back on, triangulate her position,” he said, annunciating every word.

He ran his tongue over his fangs as he watched the women on his sofa fondle and caress each other. The lingerie he’d picked out did wonders for their figures. Rhinestones sparkled in the moonlight, like beacons in the darkened room.

“Right. Um. And there’s more.”

“More? How could there be more?” Fury boiled inside him. How inept could those man-sized-rodents be? He should have hired a bounty hunter with questionable morals to bring her back to him, but no, he’d taken their word for it. “
We can find her
,” they’d said.

Sniveling little animals.

Not only was Kendall making him look like a fool, now his men were too. He closed his eyes and fought for control. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper at this point in the game.

“Drek managed to get off a shot.”

Carl waited, his brows pinched downward, an uneasy feeling coming over him. He’d told them to take her alive. She was no good to him if she was dead. God help him, he would kill them all. Worthless, scum-sucking maggots.

“And?” he barked a moment later when no further details were uttered across the line.

“He was aiming for the back tire. You knows, to disable the car.” Carl hissed. How the hell had everything gone so wrong? That stupid old fool Carver hadn’t wanted to put his precious property on the table. No. He’d offered his daughter instead.

Carl should have seen the writing on the wall. But she was a means to an end. She’d inherit dear-old-dad’s property, and since she’d be married to him, he’d get what he wanted anyway.

Carver had no idea he’d signed his own death sentence.

The plan had been so simple. So fool proof. Until that little bitch had run off, tail tucked between her legs. She should have known he had no intention other than wedding her.

Certainly not bedding her.

He had a whole harem of sluts waiting to service him. Plus, he made it a point never to fuck animals. Especially bottom feeders like
werecoyotes
.

Across the room, the blonde’s fingers disappeared beneath her panties. Undeterred by his mood, she shot him a lusty look. A come-hither smile if he’d ever seen one. His cock jerked, impatient to sink between those ruby red lips.

What was the weasel babbling about? Then, a single word pierced Carl’s lust.
Blood.

“What did you say?”

“Which part, boss?”

“Everything after ‘he was aiming for the back tire,’” Carl ground out.

The phone-line was silent for a long moment. Long enough for that sinking feeling to completely deflate his hard-on.

“We think she got hit,” the weasel said, but continued quickly, “but she kept driving, so it can’t be that bad right?”

Carl was out of his chair like a lightning bolt, his temper finally getting the better of him. He clenched a fist, aching to slam it into something fleshy and supple. Preferably the weasel on the other end of the phone line.

“Find her,” he roared before he hurled the phone against the wall and started for the door. The women cowered as he stormed across the room.

“You can go,” he clipped out, pausing only long enough to see them nodding quickly, their heads bouncing up and down like bobble-head dolls. The fear in their eyes fed him and for the briefest of moments, he was tempted to feed on more. To drain them dry.

But he had something far more important to take care of.

He bellowed for his assistant. Did he have to do everything himself?

White Mountains, morning

Something soft nuzzled Kendall’s hand. She blinked against the harsh morning light and tilted her head to the left. A large black dog lay curled at her side. She smiled, feeling safe and warm. Just like in her dreams.

Dernit
. Why was her dream life always so much better than her real life? Why did she always end up with a great guy only to wake up, on the run?

“Good morning,” she whispered as she ran her fingers over his muzzle. He licked them and she laughed softly. For a moment she lay there, admiring her surroundings.

Feeling like Cinderella waking up in a castle she tried to remember everything that had happened since yesterday afternoon. She’d been shot. She remembered that well enough.

Crashed.

Rescued.

In and out of consciousness.

Though she had the gist of it, her memories were hazy. How long had she been sleeping? Where was her host? Where was her purse?

Her rapid fire thoughts brought on a headache and she reached up with both hands to rub her temples. Her shoulder protested the motion and she winced. How was she going to get out of this mess? Would they ever stop chasing her? Would she ever get her powers back?

She pushed the thoughts away, thankful that even without her powers her body seemed to be healing quick enough. But that didn’t stop the aches ringing through her body.

Despite her shelter and new found sense of security she needed to keep moving. Get back on the road. Put more distance between her and them, wherever the heck they were.