And now it might be too late.
***
Lucien stared up at the ceiling from his cheap-ass hotel bed as sweat pooled underneath his body. The rough sheets scraped against his soaking wet back with every rhythmic breath he took.
“It’s hot as balls,” he murmured and wiped his forehead with the sheet. He’d been gazing up at the ceiling since he’d gotten back from the strip club, trying to come up with a reason why Catty Steele was still on his mind.
Every fucking time he closed his eyes, he saw her. Not just her face either. Hell no. He saw everything. From the skimpy G-string to the boots and bra she’d stripped off in front of him.
The thought of her had him hard in three seconds.
The fact that a perfect stranger could do that to his body had him white-knuckling the sheets while his breath turned to a pant.
“She’s only a woman. Nothing special.” He moaned and swiped his hand across his sweaty brow. The air conditioning in the room was out, and the ceiling fan was going the speed of a turtle.
Something about Catty sent his instincts on high alert.
With Catty, he knew he needed to be wary. He needed to be watchful. He needed to be on his guard.
“Fuck it.” He threw back the sweaty sheet wrapped around his legs and sat up. The aged wooden floor on the bottom of his feet did nothing to cool his body.
What he wouldn’t give for a five-star hotel.
He stood and stalked toward the window. Opening it, he stuck his head out. A sticky slap of humidly hit him in the face like a wet rag. Even after the sun went down, there was no cooling off in the Crescent City.
The smells of asphalt and Cajun food and the occasional putrid whiff of someone losing their dinner after too many drinks hit him like a wall.
He rested his hands on the top of the windowsill and stared down into the city that did not sleep. Neon lights from bars and glow sticks around the necks of tourists lit up the street while music blared from nearby clubs, street musicians, and passing cars. It was almost three o’clock in the morning, and there was still a steady traffic of people looking for their next adventure.
He remembered a time when he’d actually enjoyed visiting New Orleans, back when he was a kid.
His family had been in Louisiana for years and was highly thought of. His father, Robert, had inherited his wealth through the family shipping business and the railroads. He was always out of town on business while his mother had stayed at home and raised their two sons. She was the Martha Stewart of werewolves. She kept a perfect house with maids and a chef. And like clockwork, every three years she would have the house completely redecorated.
When she wasn’t decorating, running a charity, or hosting parties, she was busy chasing after Lucien and his brother who were always hell-bent on doing whatever they wanted and always getting into trouble.
But that was a long time ago.
A time before his world had gone upside down and his family had been destroyed.
Now all New Orleans was to him was a reminder of pain and devastating loss.
He rolled his shoulders to alleviate the tightening in his flesh that started at his shoulder blades and traveled down to his waist.
He growled, pushed off the window, and headed for the bathroom. He’d shower and get ready to meet with Catty, if she didn’t bail.
As he crossed the room, his reflection caught his eye.
He stopped and turned on the lamp. The light illuminated the room in an eerie play of dark shadows and shapes. He turned his back to the mirror.
He narrowed his eyes as he gazed upon the scarred flesh that had been burned so many years ago by one of his own blood. His deformity had caused him such great pain and loss.
The mottled skin seemed to tighten as he took in the length of his scarred back.
The pain of being burned had faded, but the hatred against his brother still burned bright.
No one had ever seen him naked. Not even the other Guardians. He would wait to work out until the gym on the base was empty, and even then he’d dress in a long-sleeved tee.
His secret had almost been discovered by Jaxon.
Jaxon had stumbled in one time after working a forty-eight-hour shift and discovered him lifting weights.
Lucien had soaked his shirt when Jaxon had slapped him on the back. The asshole had apparently been too damn exhausted to notice the unevenness of his flesh. After cracking a few jokes, Jaxon had headed back to his room.
It was something Lucien kept to himself. He couldn’t trust his secret with the other Guardians. He’d be an outcast. He’d experienced it with his own family.
He wasn’t about to experience it with his Pack.
He’d learned the only person he could trust was himself.
Chapter Eight
“Coffee and beignets, please.” Catty gave her order to the waitress at Café du Monde. The restaurant was already buzzing with the voices of customers ordering the sugary doughnuts and chicory coffee. People didn’t visit New Orleans without at least one trip to Café du Monde.