Desirable (3 page)

N
atalya looked at the invitation
. She’d looked at it for weeks, since the day it had arrived at her father’s house. It was worn from her fingers tracing the raised gold lettering, creased from where she’d folded it so she could keep it close all the time. If she didn’t have her purse, she carried it in her back pocket.

A part of it was stained. Tears she’d shed one day. Silly tears.

She tried to think of the girl she used to be. The girl she’d been nine months ago when she’d first met the man who’d made her shed those tears. She was a petulant, petty, vengeful terror then. She’d shown her worse side. She’d been a brat. Her father’s brat.

When Lézare and his men brought her back to her father’s house, she’d stomped her foot and stormed off.

Who the hell was I?

She didn’t like the girl she used to be. She didn’t like her at all.

Shortly afterward, she’d enrolled in several courses at the college, and then, unbeknownst to her father, she’d started working at the homeless shelter on Fridays and Saturdays.

Her French-tipped manicure was long gone, replaced by chewed nails on fingers that had calluses on them from wielding a kitchen knife at the shelter.

During hour after hour of chopping vegetables, she’d reflected on who she used to be, and began to appreciate the little things in life. The smile of a child at the shelter when she gave him an extra dessert.

The appreciative glow on one woman’s face when Natalya brought in more than half her wardrobe so the woman would be able to go apply for a job.

Natalya actually liked who she was now. She liked the new Natalya a lot.

And others did too. She met new friends at the shelter and at school, friends who didn’t care that her father was rich, or that he ran a multi-million-dollar corporation and was one of the more powerful shifters in town. Well, actually, they didn’t know that last part.

She sat behind the wheel of her Acura and studied the invitation, her fingers tingling where they traced Lézare Arceneaux’s name.

Him.

He was the one she wanted. And he knew who the real Natalya was. The hot-tempered, impulsive brat he’d met.

Except I’m not that person anymore.

Much.

She was still hot-tempered. Still impulsive and spontaneous. She just wasn’t a little shit anymore.

Oh, who was she kidding? He wouldn’t want her, not when he could have any stunning shifter he wanted. Why would he want her, with her overabundance of curves, her overly full lips, her thick brows, and even thicker thighs?

Her phone buzzed in the passenger’s seat. She didn’t want to look to see who it was. She’d left home, didn’t want to talk to anyone, hadn’t left a note.

Maybe I’m still an inconsiderate brat. I shouldn’t worry Papi like that.

She picked up her phone and texted her father a short message saying she was going out of town for the weekend. At least this way, she knew that he was aware she was okay.

She knew what she had to do. She had to go to Louisiana. She had to go to Arceneaux Point.

N
atalya was
an hour away from Austin, an hour into her trip to Louisiana, when she stopped to gas up and grab a bottled water. She’d just buckled her seatbelt and picked up her phone to check the time when she found a text waiting for her.

It was from Monica, one of the volunteers at the homeless shelter.

Monica:
Ms. Claudette won’t eat dinner. She’s refusing to. Said she can’t eat without you.

“I’ve created a monster,” Natalya mumbled to herself, though a smile crept onto her face at the thought of Ms. Claudette.

White-haired, with fine wrinkles that were a testimony to her longevity, Ms. Claudette was one of Natalya’s favorites. No one knew where she’d come from or how she’d ended up homeless. She spoke with a southern accent that made Natalya think of Lézare Arceneaux every time the older woman spoke.

Hearing Ms. Claudette talk was like a trip down a wonderful memory lane, one that always resulted in a tiny bit of heartbreak for Natalya because she knew there was no way she’d ever have a future with Lézare.

Natalya glanced at the time on the phone’s screen. She’d miss the cocktail party at Arceneaux Point for certain if she went to the shelter to see Ms. Claudette, but there was no way she’d get by without spending at least an hour or two with her.

Natalya sighed.

She didn’t know why she bothered thinking about it. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t going to go see Ms. Claudette.

Of course she was.

She’d shoot for the masquerade ball, since she’d never make it to the cocktail party on time.

She made a U-turn in the parking lot and entered the ramp to Highway 290, going west.

N
atalya pulled
into the parking lot at the homeless shelter. It was after dinnertime already, but if Ms. Claudette hadn’t eaten, Natalya was certain they’d have held a plate for her.

She locked her car, avoided the loose boards on the front porch, and entered the dilapidated building.

Monica greeted her with a come-hither wave. “She’s in quite a mood. Said you told her you’d see her soon and you were here every Friday and Saturday night, and she wasn’t having dinner without you. We told her you were going out of town. She wouldn’t have it.”

“I’ll talk to her.” She would have to explain to Ms. Claudette that she wouldn’t be there tomorrow night. She would absolutely not drive back to eat dinner with her. She wanted to see Lézare again, and only the cover of a masquerade ball would allow her that. She had to go. Had to.

“She’s in the library. It’s the only place I could arrange for her to have some peace while she ate. But we can’t keep breaking the rules for her.” Rolling her eyes, Monica handed Natalya a plate that was warm to the touch. “Good luck.”

Natalya didn’t mind that Ms. Claudette was demanding and she had to accommodate her, but she knew it created extra work for the staff. She hadn’t meant to spoil the elderly lady.

She knocked on the door and pushed it open.

“It’s about time.” Ms. Claudette, who was sitting in a wing chair, turned her head away from the window.

“Shame on you,” Natalya chastised. Her tone matched the smile on her lips. “You’ve given the staff a rough time of it.”

“You’re supposed to be here Friday and Saturday nights. I told them there had to be something wrong if you weren’t here.”

“Ms. Claudette.” Natalya set the plate down and pulled the table closer to the older woman. “I told you I’d be gone this weekend.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Oh, yes, I did. And don’t go pretending you don’t remember. That act won’t work on me.”

“I mean, no, you can’t go.” A flash lit up in the depths of Ms. Claudette’s eyes.

Natalya would have sworn it was a blue flash, but Ms. Claudette’s eyes were brown.

The flash happened again. Definitely blue.

Natalya didn’t want to be caught staring, so she looked out the window. “You need to eat, Ms. Claudette.”

“I know what you are.”

Natalya froze. It felt like an arctic gust had washed over her body.
She knows. She knows I’m a rich brat.

Her tigress snarled.

But I’m not that person anymore.

“Wh—what—what do you mean?”

Claudette paused, her fork midway between the plate and her mouth, and tucked back a stray lock of hair that had escaped a wayward bun. “A tigress. A shifter.”

Natalya gasped. “Who—” She couldn’t think of what else to say.

How could Ms. Claudette know what she was? How did she even know about shifters at all?

The blue flame in the back of Ms. Claudette’s eyes grew more brilliant.

“You’re…” Natalya took a chair from the table and sat next to Ms. Claudette. “What are you?”

“I’m inside Claudette.” The voice was different than Ms. Claudette’s.

“Who are you?” Natalya whispered. A shiver passed over her body.

“My name is Allynne.”

“Where’s Ms. Claudette?”

“I’m here.” This time it was Claudette’s voice.

“So I can talk to both of you at the same time?”

“Of course,” Claudette said. “Allynne has been with me for most of my life.”

“Actually, I’ve been with her for all of her life. I merely chose not to reveal myself to her until I was certain she could handle it. You have no idea how many people commit suicide because they think they’ve gone crazy when we enter their body and join with them.”

Natalya shook her head. “This is unbelievable.”

“Oh, really?” Claudette said. “And having a tiger inside of you is more believable?”

“For me it is. It’s always been this way. But I’ve never heard of… or seen…” Natalya exhaled with a whoosh. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“You’ve never heard of an elemental?”

“Ohhh. Yes. That I
have
heard of.”

I’ve just never met one. I’m pretty sure I should be afraid of them.

She’d heard that elementals could control the weather, fire, water… She tried to remember what else she’d heard, but it had been so long ago, and nothing really stuck in her mind.

“I’m dying,” Claudette said, just like that, without any sugarcoating.

“Ms. Claudette, we all die, sooner or later.” Natalya put a comforting hand on the older woman’s arm.

“No, she means soon,” Allynne interjected.

This was eerie. With both of them in the same body, it was difficult to discern which one would speak until they’d actually said something.

“And Allynne needs to move.” Claudette’s eyes glazed over. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” Allynne said. “It’s been a wonderful life with you. I wish you’d stayed with your family, though.”

“You know I couldn’t,” Claudette responded. “They thought I was a sorceress.”

“They shouldn’t have cared.” Allynne’s voice was angry.

It felt surreal for Natalya, watching the two conversing, but using the same mouth, the same lips, though very different voices.

Allynne didn’t have Ms. Claudette’s accent. It reminded Natalya of Vax’s accent a bit, but different, and it was quite unlike Ms. Claudette’s southern drawl.

Natalya found herself feeling sad, wondering if Allynne would die with Ms. Claudette or if something else would happen. “What happens to Allynne when you…” She couldn’t say die. “…go?”

“She leaves me.” Claudette clasped hands covered with skin so frail and translucent that it reminded Natalya of paper.

“Leaves you? And goes where?”

The blue light shone brilliantly in Claudette’s eyes. “I find a new home.”

“You mean a new person?” Natalya moved her chair back.

“Don’t be afraid.” Allynne’s voice sounded otherworldly, as if it was coming through a hollow tube. “I don’t seek out mature individuals. I am eternal. I have no reason to rush. I prefer to join with bodies that are not formed yet.”

“I’m not sure I like this conversation.” Natalya’s voice was shaky.

I could shift and kill Allynne in less time than it would take for someone to come in. But that would mean killing Ms. Claudette, too.

She could never do that. She’d become fond of Ms. Claudette and their gin-playing evenings and their talks.

“Put your tigress away,” Ms. Claudette said.

Natalya cocked her head.

“I see her in your eyes. Just as I know you saw Allynne in mine.”

Natalya nodded.

“Claudette is fond of you,” Allynne said. “And I like her to be happy. She has moments, you know.”

Natalya knew; she’d noticed. “And you help her out during those moments?”

“I could never abandon her. I’ll be with her until the end.” Allynne’s voice became thick, as if she were choking on tears. “She wants you to be there too.”

“Why?”

“You remind her of someone from her past. Of course, she’s not really remembering this quite right. You look nothing like her. But as you do, she would also visit those less fortunate.”

“Who do I remind her of?”

“A distant relative of hers, by marriage, long dead now. Celine Arceneaux.”

Natalya gasped softly.

This can’t be a coincidence.

“That name means something to you?” It was Allynne’s voice, but Ms. Claudette’s head tipped to the right, one silver brow raised.

“No.” She didn’t care if she lied; Natalya wasn’t interested in revealing her association with the Arceneaux. That would be too close to showing her feelings for Lézare. “This isn’t about food, is it? You didn’t bring me here because Ms. Claudette isn’t eating.” Natalya looked into the old woman’s eyes, wanting
her
to answer, not the being inside her, the one called Allynne. “Did you, Ms. Claudette?”

“I don’t want to be alone. And I don’t want Allynne to be alone.”

“Claudette, I told you I can take care of myself. I’ve been taking care of myself for ages. Eons.”

Natalya wanted to shake her head to clear it. It was one thing to know you were a shifter. It was one thing to know that supernatural beings existed. But this was mind-boggling. Now she understood how it must be for humans to encounter shifters—equally confusing.

“Ms. Claudette.” Natalya took the frail hand in hers. “You’re not dying anytime soon. Don’t go fretting about this.”

“Promise me you’ll be there, though. Promise me.”

“I promise.” Natalya pushed the plate closer. “Now eat, please. I need to get on the road. I’m going out of town, and I won’t be here tomorrow night. Okay? I’ll come see you as soon as I’m back in town.”

Natalya was confused. How could an Arceneaux relative be here? Lézare couldn’t possibly know. He wouldn’t let his relatives live in a homeless shelter while he lived in opulence; he wasn’t that type of man. She bit back her urge to ask Ms. Claudette questions…

Mind your own business,
she chastised herself.

I can’t.

She wanted to know how one of Lézare’s relatives—even by marriage—could be living in a homeless shelter.

Claudette took dainty bites, slowly, as if she was savoring both the meal and the moments. The blue flash in her eyes was gone.

Natalya sat with her while she stretched one dinner plate into a two-hour visit.