Sebastian Aristide (Bayou Heat)(17)

He busted out of the front door and into the cool autumn air. The moon was full overhead, lighting the landscape of half-full parking lot in a pale, yellow glow. Sex had always been easy, hot and fun. But it seemed like lately, ever since his sister had mated his best friend and moved out of their family house, Aristide had wanted something else to go along with that heat, that fun. Something lasting and real. Something that filled his empty house, and shit, his empty heart. A true Pantera mating. It was something he wasn’t about to find in The Cougar’s Den. He needed to return to the Wildlands where he belonged.

As he headed down the steps and into the parking lot, something caught his peripheral vision and he turned. A woman, he thought. No. It was the woman. His waitress. Snow White. He paused near a black pick-up truck and watched as she rounded the corner of the bar and walked swiftly toward a rusted green hatchback. Was she done with her work already? And where was she going in such a rush? Home? To her male? he ground out inside his mind. Damn, he despised how much his body screamed at him to go after her, question her, convince her to look for comfort and pleasure elsewhere. With him.

She was talking animatedly on her cellphone, while searching her purse for something. A moment later, she fished out a set of keys, her hand shaking terribly as she tried to slip one into the lock of her car door. Something rippled through Aristide as he remembered her face in the bar, the worry in her eyes, the fear in her scent, the constant checking of her cellphone. Was she in trouble?

His puma scratched at his insides, but Aristide shoved the cat away. He shouldn’t be concerned about her. No matter what his mind said or his dick begged for, she wasn’t for him. She belonged to someone else. A human male, no doubt.

Yet Aristide remained where he was, watching as she slipped inside her vehicle, hurriedly backed out of the space and hauled ass out of the parking lot. Yes, something was wrong.

Aristide’s gaze flickered toward the bayou in the distance, the Wildlands where he should be headed, first on foot, then on paws. Then a sound yanked his attention back. Another car had pulled out directly after the woman, and was following her way too closely to be anything but a problem.

“Shit,” he uttered as he abandoned all reason and sense and left the shelter of the truck.

He sprinted across the lot, his puma hovering close to the edge of his skin. Keeping up with a vehicle for any length of time wasn’t going to be possible, but they were in town and things moved slower with stop signs and traffic lights. Eyes narrowed and vigilant in the moonlight, Aristide ran, faster than he’d ever run before. Over potholes and uneven pavement, the taillights of the car following her blinking scarlet, beckoning him forward. As they hit a red light and a few stopped cars, the woman veered into the empty turn lane. Tires squealed as both cars took the turn at too high a speed.

His puma driving him, Aristide rounded the corner. He was nearly to the hotel when the sudden and fierce slam of metal against tree trunk erupted in the air. His heart dropped into his shoes, and without forethought he raced forward, uncaring, not stopping until he had the woman’s car door open and her unconsciousness body in his arms.

“Come on,” he whispered way too goddamn frantically for the total stranger in his grasp. “Wake up. Look at me. Please.”

On his knees near the door, Aristide stared down at her. She had a gash on her forehead and she looked far too pale for his liking, but her breathing wasn’t labored.

“Shit,” he cursed when she remained still. “Come on, Female. Open your eyes and look at me.”

Behind Aristide, car doors opened and slammed shut, and in an instant, it all rushed back to him. And to his puma, as well. Someone was after this woman.

A fierce and feral growl vibrated in his throat and he eased her closer to his chest as he prepared himself for a battle. It was illogical and strange, but he knew he’d fight to the death for this female. And that would take awhile. A Pantera male didn’t die easily.

“Ari?” came a voice Aristide recognized instantly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Ice froze the blood in Aristide’s veins. Coming to a stop beside him, towering over him, was the leader of the Hunters. Parish. What the hell? And beside him was his sister, Keira, and another massive, dark-haired Hunter called Lian. They were all staring down at him nonplussed, the moon overhead illuminating their stern body language and expressions. All three were in pure Hunter mode.

Suspicious and massively protective of the woman in his arms, Aristide bared his teeth at them and hissed, “You answer first. What are you doing here?”

Parish knocked his chin in the direction of the woman in Aristide’s arms. “We’ve come for her.”

Aristide’s wariness deepened. “Why? She’s a human.”

“Yes,” Lian said with a fierce glare. “And our enemy.”

Enemy? The word slid through Aristide’s gut, hot and painful. Yet his arms only tightened around the woman. He had no idea what she’d done—or what the Pantera believed she’d done—but in that moment it didn’t matter. He and his puma would protect her, no matter what.

“Release her, Aristide,” Keira said in calm but authoritative voice. “Release her and walk away. Let us take care of this.”

Aristide leapt to his feet. The sound that rumbled in his chest, then erupted from his throat and echoed down the deserted street, was so low and so terrible, both male Hunters stepped back.

“That’s right,” he snarled at them, his puma screaming to emerge. “Keep backing up, shifters. All the way to your vehicle. Then get inside, start the engine and return to the Wildlands. Because this woman will not be touched by anyone but me.”





CHAPTER 2





The first thought Katherine Burke had when she awoke was: Am I dead? Followed closely by: No, I can’t be. I can’t leave Noah.

Panic struck her and she tried to move, to sit up, but strong, gentle hands held her down.

“Easy,” came a voice she recognized. “You’re all right.”

Forcing her eyes open, she groaned at the intense light that instantly shrank her pupils and caused her head to ache. “Too bright. Please.”

The hands left her, and in seconds she heard a click and felt the shocking burst of light recede. Blinking to gain back her vision, Kat took in her surroundings. It was still night, the intense light obviously coming from a bright lamp. She was in a hospital room. Everything was white and sterile, and as her heart kicked against her ribs, her mind bent back to remember what had gotten her here. It didn’t take long for the chase and the accident to come back. Oh, god. Someone was after her. One of those cat shifters she’d written about. No. That she’d lied about.

“How are you feeling?”

On a gasp, her head came around and her eyes made contact with the man from The Cougar’s Den. One of the pool players. Mr. Cold Beer. He was in the same clothes, minus the leather jacket. Her gaze rolled over him. Tall, broad, shockingly handsome with short, thick sandy brown hair and black eyes. Her heart kicked. Cat’s eyes. Yes, she remembered. He was one of them. The Pantera. Which meant what exactly? She glanced around again. On second look, the hospital room seemed different than the rooms she’d seen before. Her breath stalled in her lungs. Was she in the Wildlands?

“Do you remember what happened to you?” he asked, his voice so husky, so male, Kat felt its vibration all through her body.

Her heart beating furiously inside her chest now, Kat nodded.

Light brown eyebrows raised over deep, dark and curious eyes. “Do you remember me?”

The vibration in her body dropped low in her stomach. Good lord, how did one forget a face like that, a body like that? A voice like that? She eyed the white lab coat he was wearing. “Are you doctor?”

“Of sorts,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder at the door, then returned his gaze to her. “Why were you running from the Pantera? Did someone threaten you?”

He seemed genuinely concerned, but Kat knew how men were. How they acted when they wanted something from you, and how they acted afterwards when they got it.

“This is all a mistake,” she said, trying to sit up. “I don’t know where you’ve put me or why, but I need to go home.”

“And where is that?”

She hesitated for a moment, then spat out the truth, “New Orleans.”

As the man came to sit on the bed near her waist, Kat drew back against the pillows. She felt breathless and warm, but not from her fear and anxiety. Up close, he was even better looking. He seemed to ooze strength and raw maleness, and she felt her curiosity flare. This was the real deal, and the Pantera males she’d written about—the fiction she’d invented—seemed positively puny in comparison.

“Listen,” he began, his voice soft but threaded with warning. “Very soon we’re going to have people in here asking you a lot of questions. Before they do, do you want to tell me anything? Who you are? Why you were running last night from—”

“The Pantera?” Kat said quickly and without thinking.

The man’s eyes shuttered, and he growled softly. “You know about us?”

Pressed back against the pillows, Kat stared at him, her breathing shallow. This was bad. How could she be so stupid as to show her hand when she might’ve gotten out of here? This man—it was him—he unnerved her, made her drop her guard. Even back at The Cougar’s Den she’d felt that from him.