Blue Moon Brides: The Complete Series (32 page)

Had she really believed her wolf meant to help her?

“Pit stop,” he agreed, but he didn’t crack a smile.

What kind of game was he playing?

Riley had barely formed the thought when he leaped effortlessly from the bank to the deck, the sound of his bare feet slapping against the deck jolting through her.

“No more runnin’,” he growled and advanced towards her.

Yeah, like that was happening. She’d had her fill of being told what she could and couldn’t do.

“Stop right there.” She brought up the board she’d grabbed, pointing the nail-spiked end towards his ridged and muscled chest. Her other hand clutched the homemade shiv. He had beautiful skin, a dusky gold-brown that made her want to lick him from head to foot, concentrating hard on all the sexy bits.

Her attraction infuriated her, so she raised the board higher. “Who the hell are you and why are you following me?”

He stopped his slow forward prowl. Leaning against the railing, he crossed his arms over his chest like they were making chitchat at a bar. He didn’t look like his nudity bothered him at all. Irritation filled his voice. “I’m Dag Breaux. You’re Riley Jones.”

She didn’t care how many shades of pissed off he was. She figured she had the first claim on mad right now, given what she’d endured at the hands of the vamp. Playing the victim card wasn’t in her nature, but Dag definitely didn’t have anything to complain about.

When she didn’t respond right away, he merely stood there and stared at her. Yeah. Like there was nothing awkward or out of the ordinary about him being butt-naked in the middle of the bayou or the whole wolf-shifting thing. Although naked was a good look on him. She forced herself not to look lower to verify she’d seen what she’d seen. Dag Breaux was hung. Unfortunately, he still hadn’t so much as cracked a smile, but she got the feeling he’d registered her interest. She just didn’t know if he cared.

She hadn’t seen this Breaux before. Sure, she’d joked and teased with Mary Jane about the sexy brothers, but fantasies were one thing. Reality was another— and the Breaux brother currently staring her down was six-plus feet of hot, Cajun trouble. There wasn’t an inch of give in him, but she’d bet there was plenty of take.

There were six Breauxs at last count and they had a compound way out in the bayou. Finding it was damned hard, although not too many people tried. That was one thing she really loved about the bayou. Not only did everyone know each other—and had each other’s backs—but they left you the hell alone unless there was an explicit invitation. So, no, she hadn’t popped in to borrow a cup of sugar or chat the Breauxs up. She hadn’t been invited and she hadn’t wanted to be. The Breauxs didn’t mess with anyone, they kept their word—and they kept to themselves. Naturally, Dre and Landry’s brother had to be a bigger, meaner version of the twins—and hotter than hell.

Yeah. The hotness she could have done without.

The wolf part was just another bonus fuck-all.

“Fantastic.” Her eyes narrowed. “You want to tell me what you’re doing here, Dag Breaux?”

“In the bayou?” His eyes travelled over her body. She knew she wasn’t looking her best because a week as a vampire’s prisoner would do that to a girl. But hell, she hated the fact she even considered what she looked like. So she pushed back, hard.

“Sure,” she drawled. “In the bayou. Two steps behind me, growling like a rabid bitch. Standing on this deck when I told you to back off and get lost.”

“I’m rescuin’ you,” he said. He didn’t blink, his dark eyes staring her down like a powerful predator spotting prey. The man clearly hadn’t heard the saying about gathering more flies with sweet than sour. Not that she wanted to be the fly in this particular analogy, but he definitely need charm lessons.

She rested the board on his chest. Figured he didn’t so much as flinch. Maybe she’d get his interest if she dropped the board south, but some trouble a girl didn’t need to borrow. “I don’t need rescuing,” she said, just to be perfectly clear.

He lifted one powerful,
bare
shoulder. “Don’ look that way to me. You’re goin’ to have a vamp ridin’ your ass when the sun goes down.”

She could and did take care of herself. She dug the board into his chest, careful to angle the nails away from his skin. She shouldn’t care if he got hurt or not, she told herself. She’d warned him and he’d chosen to stick around.  If he got hurt, that was his fault.

“I got away from said vamp,” she pointed out.

He wrapped a hand around the board. “I helped.”

They wrestled silently for control of the board, except it wasn’t much of a contest. He outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. He was also bigger and stronger, although she was fairly certain he wasn’t meaner, even if he was a Breaux and part wolf. She had plenty of mean in her.  After a minute, though, he simply tugged and the board flew out of her hands, landing on the other side of the deck. A quick twist of his wrist, a little firm pressure, and the shiv followed.

“Fuck you,” she snapped, hands flying to her hips.

She wanted to go home and she’d give pretty much anything to forget the last week. So far, she’d managed to avoid thinking about exactly what had happened while the vamp had held her hostage, but those memories would eventually demand attention and she didn’t want to be anywhere near this man when she curled up in a ball and gave in to the urge to sob. It was okay to cry. She knew that. But she also knew, having grown up with three older brothers, how presenting a strong front was critical. If she gave this man an inch, if she let him think for a moment she wasn’t in control and in charge,
he’d
take charge.

And that would be a bad thing.

No matter how sexy rough-and-tough Dag Breaux was, she didn’t need him taking charge of her life—and his kind always did. She’d watched Dre and Landry try that with Mary Jane and pretty much succeed. She wasn’t Mary Jane, however. She wasn’t going to let this man stomp all over the houseboat she’d just purloined.

“Sure,
boo
,” he drawled and this time she
saw
something in his dead, dark eyes. A heated, sexual interest that had parts of her perking right up. It just figured he’d take her curse at face value.

He clearly needed explicit instructions, she decided.

“Thanks for the assist with the vamp—now get the hell off this boat,” she said sweetly. She would
not
back up. If he thought he was getting sex here, he could think again. This wasn’t a pick up and she definitely wasn’t putting out. Unfortunately, a little voice whispered, his dark, impassive face said maybe he wouldn’t care much what she wanted. Maybe he’d be all about convincing her she wanted what he did. Just the thought of having hot, raw, animal sex with Dag Breaux on the deck of some godforsaken abandoned houseboat made her want to scream. She wasn’t sure, either, whether or not that scream would be in any way due to anger. “And find some clothes. You’re scaring half the bayou.”

He shrugged like casual nudity was just part of who he was. “That bother you? Because you’re my mate,” he growled, prowling closer. Something hard and hot brushed her belly. “You’re goin’ to see
all
of me,
boo
.”

“That’s it?” She was sick and tired of all the alpha crap stinking up her bayou. First Dre and Landry, then the vampire. Now she had this thick-headed, arrogant, too-sexy man to deal with? Fate was
so
not on her side. “You run me for miles, announce this is your misguided notion of a rescue attempt, and then give me one-word answers? Well, I’ll tell you something. I don’t need this. I don’t need you. All I need right now is to go home—and you can take a walk in the bayou.”

“You need me,” he said, but she had no idea what he meant. Because he couldn’t possibly mean sex. She’d known him all of five minutes and she didn’t do
need
anyhow.

So she cocked her head and slapped a hand against his chest to stop his forward advance.
Don’t look down
, she warned herself. An incredible heat radiated from his body.
So good
, her traitorous body whimpered. Part of her—the weak part—wanted to curl up against his broad chest, demand he put his arms around her. Instead, she dug her nails into his chest and pushed. His erection jerked. Wolf boy liked their proximity. He didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. No, he just stood there like a great immovable wall.

“Why?” She demanded.

His hands discovered her waist, the heat of his palms burning through her T-shirt as he traced the waistband of her jeans.

“Why what?” he asked roughly.

“Why would I need you?” She stared at him. Logic always worked. She’d run off countless would-be Romeos both in town and on the bayou. Dinner, dollars, a pair of strong arms—she’d been offered it all. Sex just wasn’t worth the effort. She was almost curious to hear what wolf boy here would suggest, because instinct told her sex with him would be different.

“Safety,” he bit out. “That’s one.”

He pulled her towards him. Since he didn’t care he was buck-ass naked, she wouldn’t let him see how much it bothered her. But God, there was no missing the mighty fine erection pressed against her stomach.

“Is that all?” She didn’t sound too breathless, she decided.

“Nuh-uh,
boo
.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. His eyes glowed in the early morning greys of the bayou. The wolf thing, she reminded herself. “I’ve got a real strong pair of arms. You and me, we both know what’s out there in the bayou. That vamp’s goin’ to be comin’ for you. You don’ wan’ to be alone when he catches up with you.”

She fought back a shiver. Yeah. There was no arguing Dag’s point. The vamp was bad news all round. He was a mean son-of-a-bitch with tricks up his sleeve she couldn’t begin to imagine, but she didn’t have to roll over and play dead. It meant she got herself a gun, pumped this Breaux for all he knew, and hunkered down.

“I’ll handle it,” she said, meaning every word too. “I don’t need—”

“My help,” he finished. “Yeah, I got the message. Guess that just leaves one thing then.”

“That being?”

“Sex,” he growled and nipped her lower lip.
 

~*~

“Dream on,” she snapped, jerking back. Her hips bucked as she fought his hold, so he gripped her tighter. Curled his fingers around those fragile bones and hung on because his wolf thought acting out their collective fantasies sounded like a damn fine plan. Only her T-shirt and jeans stood in his way. One minute. That’s how long it would take him to strip her down to her bare skin.

He rubbed his face against the side of her neck. Damn, she smelled good. Better yet, she smelled
interesting
. Beneath the bayou’s scent—earthy and raw—was a scent that was all Riley. Sage and citrus, bright and tart, a pop of color and lust that rocked him to his core. Something
Riley
. Pressing his face against the side of her neck, he inhaled, fighting the change. She wouldn’t want the wolf.

“You smell good,” he rasped against her skin.

“Hey,” she said, pulling harder and sounding almost alarmed. “Wolf boy. Back off.”

Forcing himself to keep this human shape was a bitch. The wolf prowled beneath his skin, demanding out. Demanding sex.

“Don’ think so.” He ran a tongue over the vulnerable arch of her throat.

“Now.” Feminine irritation filled her voice. “We’re going to be having words about your definition of
rescue
, Dag Breaux.”

“You didn’t wan’ to be rescued,” he pointed out calmly and she gave a little shriek of frustration.

“I don’t want sex either. So. Back. Off.”

Reluctantly, he gave her the space she wanted, while he considered the truth of her words. A deeper, muskier note had crept into her scent, the scent of lust and a sensual curiosity he yearned to indulge. The wolf wasn’t worried about niceties like
yes
. He could make her like his touch. Could convince her to accept him as her lover, even if the man dimly remembered he was supposed to coax and tease until he heard those words.

“I don’ care?” he asked and this time she erased the distance between them, her palms slapping against his chest.

“I do,” she bellowed. He liked the way she never stopped fighting. “This is absolutely not okay.”

Her scent said otherwise. Primitive satisfaction swept through him. Her body didn’t lie to him like her sweet mouth did.

The moon came out from behind the clouds, lighting up the bayou. His body tensed because this was it, his showdown with destiny.  He waited, when every nerve in his body demanded he
act
.
Move
.
Fight
for this female challenging him on the deck of his houseboat. The light crept down the cypress trees and over the bank. Smaller creatures rustled, going about their night business, and a gator roared, low and hoarse, as the beast geared up to mate or to hunt.

But that moon, it was a revelation. It was all the proof he needed, because the rays were blue, through and through. The blue glow crept across the boat’s stern and then over Riley’s face—and stopped. The moon lit her up, and wouldn’t you know it? His Pack
had
been right. He’d come for Riley because Luc ordered him to do so and he always obeyed his Alpha. Disobeying would have meant breaking off from the Pack, so he’d followed orders and come to fetch her out of the bayou.