Blue Moon Brides: The Complete Series (19 page)

She looked up at him, checking to see how she was doing. That was an even bigger turn-on, brown eyes watching as she swallowed him, moving down his shaft.

The juicy slide of her mouth over him, the little humming thing she had going on as she got into what she was doing—he felt her right  in his balls. Her hair whispered over his hands, and every sense he possessed was on high alert and focused on this woman bringing him off in the bayou. Christ, he was coming, and there was no stopping the sensual train slamming through his body.

“You might wan’ to let go,
sha
.” He groaned the words out, forcing his fingers to relax. Shooting himself down her throat, filling her with his come, that was erotic as hell, but he’d break her in gentle. Give her a chance to get used to him first before he turned nasty.

She didn’t loose her hold on him. Hell, her fingers tightened, and his balls tensed, and the orgasm took him hot and fast.
Asking for it
. He emptied his dick into her, jerking against the hot pull of her mouth as she swallowed.

When she finally slipped free and sank back on her haunches, she smiled, and that was almost a bigger turn-on than the way she’d sucked him dry.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” she said, “but not as much as you did.”

“That’s a safe bet.” He touched her hair gently, tucking an errant strand behind her ear. “You got a wild side,
sha
. Dre’s goin’ to eat you up.”

“Dre?” Landry’s statement stunned her. Out here with Landry, and he wanted to bring his brother into this? Never mind that small, forbidden pulse of pleasure the thought brought. What kind of woman did Landry believe she was?

Landry didn’t answer, just levered smoothly to his feet, fastening his jeans in a practiced movement. Disappointment lanced through her. Mr. Bayou Bad Boy had had his fun, and now he was clearly leaving. Scanning the cypress trees around them, he pulled on his boots and T-shirt.

“Let’s get you back to the boat,” he said as she dragged the sleeping bag around her. Her clothes were still scattered on the porch. The smell of sex and
them
lingered on her skin, mixing with the bayou’s own earthy night scents. Landry was beautiful, standing there half-dressed. Sexy as hell, and she appreciated that.

He really didn’t get to give her orders, though, even if he did get to give orgasms.

Captain
, she reminded herself.
Don’t back down now.

“I’m fine right here.”

Still, she reached for her clothes, because sitting around naked put her at too much of a disadvantage. It would have been nice to spend a few more minutes wrapped in Landry’s arms, savoring what had happened between them, but if he had an itch to get moving, she wasn’t asking him to stay put.

She wouldn’t be the needy lover.

He shook his head and crouched beside her, hands resting loosely on his splayed thighs. He seemed ready to spring into action, but there was nothing threatening about the bayou night.

“Please,” he said, and that word surprised her. Her lips parted, and he pressed a finger lightly against them. “Trust me on this one,
sha
. Tonight’s not a good night to be out and about, wanderin’ in the bayou.”

He tipped his head back, searching the sky. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but the clouds still covered the moon. That layer was fading away now, so there’d be starlight soon, but right now everything was good and dark.

“This is where I make my living. I know these waters—there’s nowhere safer for me.”

She loved the bayou, and from what she’d seen he did, too. No way would she trade this wide-open space for the four walls of the bayou towns and the efficiency apartments she’d rented over the years. Eventually, she’d given up and moved onto her boat permanently. It wasn’t like she needed all that much stuff.

There was enough light now to see Landry’s expression. He eyed her, his gaze moving over her face and down, like he was memorizing what he saw. His lips firmed—getting ready to issue orders again—and before she could stop herself she was remembering what it had felt like to touch those lips. To taste him. The man was a sensual feast, and once hadn’t been enough. She had a suspicion she’d never get enough of this man, and that was trouble right there. Because she suspected Landry Breaux would always have somewhere else to go. He wasn’t the settling-down type, not him.

And yet she wanted to bring him back to her boat, let him into the life she had out here on the water. Keep him close by her side when anyone with eyes in their head knew he was the kind of man who ranged free and far. She didn’t doubt he’d enjoyed himself with her, but he wasn’t going to love her, and he damned certain wasn’t going to stay.

Not for long.

“You head on back,” she suggested, getting dressed beneath the sleeping bag’s cover. Silly to feel shy now, but she was done. He didn’t get a show with dinner, not tonight.

There was no compromise in Landry. “No.”

Bending swiftly towards her, he snaked an arm beneath her and effortlessly hoisted her into the air as he stood.

“Landry,” she protested, pushing against his chest. He simply tightened his grip, bending and scooping up the rest of her stuff with his other hand. The raw power of him was unexpected. She’d known he was strong, had seen it earlier in the day as he and Dre pulled the oysters from the lease hour after hour. 

“I wan’ you back on that boat.” He didn’t look down at her, just started back up along the bayou bank, stepping confidently. The darkness didn’t bother him in the least. And he moved silently, like a graceful predator, sidestepping branches and other pitfalls.

Hell.

He acted
possessive
.

And defensive. Like he truly believed there was something or someone out there ready and waiting to hurt her.

She wriggled and tried again. “You want to talk about this?”

“Nope.” Watchful and predatory, his gaze moved from side to side, quartering the shadows and scanning both banks, but the thumb stroking her collarbone was almost tender. “Don’ fight me on this one,
sha
. I can’t let you win.”

She’d spent a lifetime avoiding conflict—while fighting for the right to stand on her own two feet. His alpha-male crap should have had her running for the hills, but instead the rough-tender tone in his voice was a lure she didn’t want to resist. She could stand her ground tomorrow. Right now, she wanted more of the satisfied, sensual glow he’d wrapped her in. Now, she could sleep.

“At least put me down,” she countered. “Let me walk.”

She didn’t need to be carted back to the boat like a recalcitrant child—or a lover.

He never took his eyes off their surroundings, but a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. “I like carryin’ you.”

As soon as he got her onto the
Bayou Sweetie
, he set her on her feet and dropped a hard kiss on her lips.

A quick fast glance around the deck turned up Riley, still snug in her sleeping bag, but no sign of Dre.

“I’m goin’ to go take a little look-see. You be ready to get out of here,” Landry warned. “Be ready to go when I say.”

Before she could protest, he’d slipped over the side of the
Bayou Sweetie
and disappeared into the dark.

~*~

“Let me go and live another day, wolf boy.”

Dre ignored the offer and palmed his hunting knife, keeping his eyes on the dealmaker currently kneeling in the bayou mud.  Close contact with the dirt hadn’t done the vamp’s threads any favors. Still, despite the dirt and worse on the pinstripe fabric, the male looked too damned confident for someone with one blade in his shoulder and another headed for his throat. He certainly didn’t look like he belonged out here in the bayou.

Condescending prick also hadn’t processed the memo about the new change in management.
Wolf boy
didn’t heel anymore. If the vamps came after the Pack, the Pack fought back—and fought to kill. Dre was no boy, either.

He’d scented this vamp traveling along the bank, casing the
Bayou Sweetie
earlier. As soon as Riley had been truly out for the count, Dre had made his move. Since there was currently only one vamp closing in on the boat, Dre had figured on evening the odds.

The vamp wore what looked like a fur jacket made from wolf pelts over his eight-hundred-dollar suit. Multicolored and blood-streaked, the furs still smelled of wolf.
Skin hunter.
The vamp had tracked down his shapeshifter prey and skinned them alive, taking the pelts to protect his sorry ass from combusting when hit by daylight. That act alone was a death sentence, the way Dre saw it.

The vamp shifted uneasily, the truth of his dilemma sinking in, and Dre stepped closer. He sensed Landry moving through the shadows at his back, so Mary Jane would be back onboard as well. Good. He preferred knowing where both girls were. Leaving them alone was a calculated gamble, but this vamp was the only one in the area, and he was not a threat now.

“Not an option tonight,” Dre drawled. “You don’ get to live much more than another five minutes.” The kneeler’s eyes widened, and Dre knew what the other man saw. Six foot four inches of hard-ass, cold-eyed, straight-up killer. A hunter with prey in his sight. Sucked for him.

“You don’t want to be killing me,” the vamp suggested.

Dre laughed. “Hell yeah, I do.”

The vamp tried again. “I’ve got intel you need.”

Not likely, but Dre’s wolf sure liked the sight of his blade biting into that pale neck. He was the predator. Now the vamp was merely prey.

“Here’s how I see things,” Dre said, leaning in. “This fur look you’ve got goin’ on pisses me off. I like seein’ wolf skin on the proper bodies. You’ve got no business killin’ my kind jus’ so yours can walk in the sun. You take the hand nature dealt you,
oui
?”

The vamp spat out a curse Dre hadn’t heard since the Middle Ages. Maybe he was getting through.

“We on the same page now?” he asked.

Somewhere far off, something splashed and a gator roared.

Time to wrap this up and roll out.

Usually Dre knifed his prey before they could start running their mouths and working their claws. Tonight, for whatever reason, he hadn’t given a fuck. He’d tracked this sorry bastard here and then he’d pinned the man when he should have gone for his throat.

That had been a mistake. A mistake he was fixing now.

He bared his teeth. “Time’s up, motherfucker. Time to die.”

~*~

The pirogue’s paddle cut through the black water almost soundlessly. It wasn’t too late—barely gone two o’clock—but the bayou was preternaturally dark. With the clouds planted firmly over the full moon, no starlight lit up the waters. Every twist and turn of the waterway had to be negotiated in the pitch-black. Mary Jane sank into the welcome stillness.

Landry was good at giving orders.

She’d give him that.

She’d almost kept her ass dutifully onboard the
Bayou Sweetie
. Almost, because that was her boat. Her life. And she did things
her
way.

That was why she’d always preferred working alone. No matter who she signed on, bottom line was those hired hands were an unwelcome intrusion on the bayou’s peace and quiet.  They talked. Made noise and reminded her she wasn’t alone out here, not really. As the day had worn on, she’d watched Dre and Landry, waiting for them to tip their hand. No way the Breaux brothers were simply deckhands on an oyster boat. She didn’t buy that story—but she didn’t know what they really wanted. Even though she now had plenty of memories to draw on, memories of hot, talented male hands tracing the line of her spine. Dipping wickedly lower.

So, okay, she knew plenty well what Landry liked.

Harvesting oysters wasn’t going to be easy when all she could think about was getting her hands on Dre and pulling a repeat of what she’d done to Landry. She had a feeling she’d be dreaming about how it would feel to spend an entire night learning Dre’s big body. Or Landry’s.
No
. Two men holding her, two sets of hands and lips and cocks? That kind of fantasy needed to remain a fantasy.

She dipped the paddle into the water.

Dre and Landry were up to no good, and she aimed to find out what. The closer she got to the bank, the more her intuition hollered at her that there were dark things happening in the bayou tonight.

Something flickered in the corner of her eye.

Someone
cursed, a harsh, foul-mouthed sound she recognized instinctively.

She needed to keep moving.

She needed to keep right on paddling and head back to the boat and Riley. Better yet, take the boat downriver, unload her catch and pick out a spot at the closest bar. Knock back a couple and celebrate another decent take.

Unfortunately, she’d never been good at doing what she should, and abandoning the Breauxs, even if they’d brought their troubles on themselves, didn’t sit well. She didn’t do leaving and she stuck by her crew.

So she dug her paddle into the water, and the pirogue glided to a slow halt, turning into the shadows spilling out of the trees lining the banks of the bayou. It was just another Louisiana night, nothing unusual about the dark slice of space between the two cypresses. Laying her fishing knife on the bench beside her, she pulled soundlessly closer.

The plan was stellar until she got a good look at the two men facing off on the marshy ground. One kneeler and one loomer whose body radiated menace. Her body hit the Stop button, debating whether or not this was just a little hardcore sex or some other, inexplicable male behavior.

The larger man was Dre, his big body reminding her too much of how she’d had his brother wrapped around her earlier like the best kind of blanket. He moved, a sharp flick of his wrist and a whisper of steel. The kneeler groaned, and a dark stain spread over his white T-shirt because Dre’s hunting knife was
in
his throat. This wasn’t sex. Her detour was a ringside seat on a murder or an assault gone south. Either or both, Mary Jane didn’t need a label for what she saw.  She dug the paddle in hard and deep, looking for speed.

The sound of water splashing had both heads swiveling towards her.
Mistake
.

The kneeling man took full advantage of the distraction, exploding to his feet and leaping towards the mouth of the inlet. He must have struck Dre, because her Cajun fell backwards. She backpedaled herself, paddling furiously. With two desperate strokes, the pirogue shot out of the inlet. Footsteps pounded along the bank. A man called her name.