Read Under the Bayou Moon Online

Authors: Gynger Fyer

Tags: #Paranormal Romance

Under the Bayou Moon (6 page)

BOOK: Under the Bayou Moon
9.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“We discussed this, Momma. We agreed that you would only invite her family and ours.”

“And I’m a gator of her word. I only invited the pod leaders from Orleans, that pain in the ass, Philip Boucher from Acadia, and the Dupres from the Monroe Pod. Since they just so happened to be in town, I thought it would be good to invite them. It might be a while before they’re in this area again. It’s important that they see your engagement. You know they’ll want to see her markings as soon as possible, or they’ll never accept her.”

Jacqueline Bertrand was as clever as a fox. She had a way of manipulating people so well, they didn’t even know they were being manipulated. He knew better.

“No, it can only be our families. She’s already nervous to meet her parents, I don’t want to put any more on her plate, and she doesn’t know about the engagement ritual.”

“Jacques, you were supposed to tell her about that when you were in Vegas.”

“Well, things happened and I didn’t get around to telling her about it. Until I do, I’d prefer not to have the leaders from surrounding pods poking and prodding around her.”

“Good Lord, Jacques, what exactly did you do while you were in Vegas? This poor girl is going to be ambushed when she gets to dinner, and her parents are fully expecting an engagement or else they won’t look kindly to her staying under our roof.”

Jacques had been thinking that very thing. He’d wanted to tell Angel, but there’d been so much to explain.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be ready to meet her parents.”

Jacques stood up and walked outside so his conversation wouldn’t be overheard.

“Just invite the families tonight, and this weekend we can invite the other pod leaders for the engagement. I’m sure the LaFleurs will understand why she’d prefer to stay with us.”

“And what about Henri Dubois, we can’t possibly turn him and his wife away. We’re staying in the Orleans pod area and he’s the leader. He’ll think it’s an insult if we don’t have him and Diane there.”

Jacques ran his hands through the top of his hair and sighed. His mother was right. Even though he ruled the Lafayette pod, his regular home was over two hours away. He kept a home in the French Quarter because most of his business was in New Orleans. His parents had always had a great relationship with the Dubois family, and it would be considered a slap in the face if they weren’t invited.

“Okay, invite the Dubois, but that’s it.”

“Alright, fair enough. I can at least explain my actions to Boucher and the Dupre family. At least I’ll have a leg to stand on.”

“Since when have you worried about explaining yourself to anyone?” Jacques snorted.

“Oh, you hush. You two come on home so I can meet my daughter properly.”

“Momma…”

“What, she’s your mate, that makes her my daughter. I always wanted a little girl, but God saw fit to give me two boys. Not that I don’t love you two rascals, but there’s nothing like having a daughter.”

Jacques walked back into his office and Angel was sitting on the sofa, leafing through a magazine. Everyone else was gone.

“Well, it looks like she’s ready to go now. We’ll stop to get some lunch and then be on our way. Is Charles there yet?”

He asked after his brother, who ran their family’s endowment back in Lafayette.

“No, he had some business to tend to. He’ll be driving in closer to dinner time.”

“Okay.”

Jacques disconnected from his mom and walked over to Angel, who was suppressing a yawn as Chloe and the construction foreman talked and looked over the plans. The muffled sounds of hammering, sawing, and shouting were music to his ears. It meant progress.

Angel was so engrossed with the conversation, she obviously didn’t hear him approach. He came up behind her and whispered near her ear.

“Are you ready for lunch and then a nap?”

She jumped slightly before turning.

“Good grief, Jacques, for a big guy, you move like the wind.”

“Well, it comes from being a gator. Have you ever seen one in the water?”

Angel looked around cautiously before answering him.

“Don’t worry, we’re all congregation here. I hire all gator crews for my projects if possible.”

“Oh, okay. But to answer your question, yes, I’m starving and a bit tired.”

“Okay, let’s get outta here. We’ll grab a bite to eat then go to my family home.”

They said good-bye to Chloe before exiting the riverboat. It was time to come clean with Angel. Time wasn’t on his side. With her family coming from Baton Rouge to see her and the Dubois from the Orleans pod being in attendance, he’d have to get her caught up, and quickly. He just prayed she could handle it all.

Chapter Five

Angel glanced at the busy restaurant named VingtEt Un. It was bright, cozy, and old-fashioned, reminding her of a turn of the century eatery. She could picture women in bustles wearing hats and gloves dining on some of the best food New Orleans had to offer. The flat screen TVs and bar-like atmosphere made it seem more modern and down to earth.

“Do you like it?” Jacques asked, with an amused look.

“Let me guess, I have tourist stamped on my forehead,” Angel chuckled good-naturedly.

“Oh no, you look like a native.”

“Yeah right! I’m not buying that swamp water, Cajun.”

“Cajun! You say that like it’s a curse word.”

“Nope, they’re five letters in Cajun, so it doesn’t qualify…well maybe it does, there are also five letters in bitch, which is a common curse word.”

“Well, technically a bitch is a female dog. Humans have made it into a curse word.”

“So what are female gators called?” she asked teasingly. “I did some research after you left but I didn’t see that one.”

A smirk came to Jacques s face.

“A female is called a cow and a male is called a bull.”

She scoffed, “A cow! What genius came up with that?”

Jacques’s laughter boomed from their table, causing her to look at the other patrons to see if anyone was staring at them. No one even turned in their direction in the crowded establishment. Angel smiled at him. Man, was he handsome. He wore a crisp, navy blue, button-down shirt with the first few buttons opened. He looked relaxed with his eyes sparkling back at her. She felt butterflies release in her stomach and took a sip of the lemon water she’d ordered.

“So, besides owning part of the Tiki and a river boat that’s seen better days, what do you do, Jacques?”

Their waitress arrived at that moment and took their orders. She decided on the crab cakes with remoulade sauce, and he ordered the rabbit fricassee.

After she’d gone, Angel looked back at Jacques and waited for him to answer her questions. During all the times they’d spoken she hadn’t asked him anything personal. It was time for her to remedy that.

“Well, I have casinos in New Orleans, Biloxi, and now Vegas.”

He held up his glass in mock salute to her. She should have been angry that he owned what should have rightfully been hers. Hell, she had been angry. She’d been thinking of ways she could buy him out. In fact, that had been one of the reasons she’d agreed to come to New Orleans. If she cooperated with him, perhaps he’d be more open to accepting her buyout offer. Now, hearing about his other casino ventures, she knew it’d be a long shot for him to accept. New Orleans and Biloxi were great places to have casinos, but there was only one Las Vegas, and she couldn’t see him giving that up. At least she wouldn’t were she in his shoes.

“I also have silent interest in several restaurants and other businesses, including my family’s foundation that helps women and youth entrepreneurs. In fact all of the proceeds from the opening of the
Bayou Moon
will go into the foundation and be handed out as grant awards to support innovative entrepreneurs, especially those who seek to employ single mothers.”

“Wow. That’s great. I never would have thought.”

“Why, because I don’t dress flashy like Michael?”

“Well, yeah.”

Angel held up her hands to stop his next sentence.

“Listen, I think it’s great. You really seem so down home and relaxed, it’s just hard to reconcile when most millionaires wear their money on their sleeve.”

“Well, maybe it’s because we’re so close to nature, most gators don’t indulge in a lot of flashy luxuries that’ll make us stand out. Not to say that we don’t like nice things. We buy the very best but keep it simple.”

At that moment a tray of raw oysters was set on their table. They looked delicious. Jacques picked one up, added a bit of Tabasco sauce to it, and held it to her lips.

“Ladies first.”

“How did you know I wanted Tabasco on mine?”

Her eyes connected to Jacques’s and the air of intimacy at the table flared to life.

“Just a guess…was I wrong?”

Instead of answering, Angel opened her mouth and allowed the cool, slippery meat to slide between her lips. The hot sauce burst on her tongue but was cooled down by the freshness of the oyster. She closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure.

Smiling, she shook her head.

“No, you were right.”

A low growl had her opening her eyes in surprise. Jacques was staring at her intently. Angel wanted to look away but seemed trapped.

In her mind she heard the word
mine
echo, but she quickly shook it off.

“Good, I’m glad I followed my instincts.”

Angel wasn’t sure if it was instincts or not. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt something with Jacques she’d never felt with any other guy.

He’s our mate.

The words spoken were insistent in her mind. Was this how being someone’s mate felt? He’d said several times, but she still wasn’t sure what it all meant. The way he described it, being a mate was like being born already destined to marry someone. Yet she knew nothing about him.

“So, you said you researched gators. What’d you find?”

Jacques picked up his glass and took a drink. Angel relished the change in conversation.

“Well, for starters, you guys…I mean
we,
are at the top of the food chain in our environment.”

Jacques paused and then nodded.

“Good catch,
cher
, what else did you find?”

“Gators live in bayous, swamps, wetlands, and everglades. They said there are two species: American and Chinese.”

“That’s true; there are a few pods in China. Sovereigns from the U.S. and China meet at an annual summit in the summer.”

“I thought there were only six pods.”

“Oh no,
cher
. There are six in Louisiana. Wherever gators live, there are pods and sovereigns who rule them. There are pods in Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, the Carolinas, and even in Arkansas and Oklahoma.”

“I read about gators living in those areas. I guess I just figured the bayou was the only place that had shifters.”

Before she could grab another oyster, Jacques had one held to her lips. She wasn’t used to a man feeding her. It felt so intimate. She briefly glanced around to see if anyone was looking, but the rest of the patrons were into their own meals and conversations. She again allowed him to feed her the delicious, briny shellfish. It seemed that everyone he picked was fresh, meaty, and flavorful.

She looked at him, but all of his attention was on her mouth and the way she chewed. Angel found herself getting turned on by the look of raw want in his eyes. There was an intimacy between them that played havoc with her libido.

To switch up the mood, she decided to pull out a fact that had surprised her.

“I also learned that alligators weren’t monogamous. One male can service up to ten females.” She arched one eyebrow in challenge.

Jacques coughed a bit, his face turning red.

“Where did you get that from?”

“It was on one of the sites I pulled up.”

“Well, that may be true of wild gators, but shifters are different.”

Angel was lost.

“What’s the difference?”

“Not every alligator possesses the ability to shift. All shifters were created in the bayou, but they disbursed hundreds of years ago. Because we’re part human, we have rules that full-blooded gators don’t have. Unlike full gators, we’re very monogamous. Every shifter has a soul mate. Each pod has a priestess who tells us who and where our mates are.”

“Then why did it take so long for me to be found?”

She couldn’t help the note of resentment in her voice. It wasn’t his fault, but she was angry at the time she’d lost with her family. Now she would essentially be a stranger to the two people she shared genes with.

Jacques took her hand and held it firmly. She immediately started to calm down.

“The connection is strongest in the Bayou. The farther out of the bayou you go, the less your vibrations can be felt. Getting upset won’t turn back time,
cher
.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“I know how you feel. To you I’m a stranger, when by now we would already be mated.”

“When you say mated, do you mean married?”

Their waitress came back with their food, again interrupting their dialogue, or so she thought. She could feel Jacques pressing her consciousness like pressing on a doorbell. She let him in with a smile on her lips. Would she ever get tired of their hidden ability to communicate?

“Married yes, but there are steps to mating. The first step is the promise. Our families would have done this when we were babies. Next would have come our engagement session. Usually this is done when the shifters are between sixteen and eighteen. At that age they are considered sexually mature.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

The waitress filled up her glass before finally leaving the table. Jacques continued.

“Well, gators that’ve matured are allowed to physically mate prior to their official mating ceremony at twenty.”

“So they can have sex but not get married. That doesn’t make any sense.” She scoffed at the absurdness.

“I know it can seem odd if you’re not familiar with the custom. But there’s a reason for the engagement. You see, a shifter female can be sexually mature but is not granted with the honor of being able to bear children until she turns twenty and goes through the official mating ceremony.”

BOOK: Under the Bayou Moon
9.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Sword of Light by Katherine Roberts
Gunsmoke over Texas by Bradford Scott
Hitler's Panzers by Dennis Showalter
The Lady Gambles by Carole Mortimer
Something More by Watson, Kat
His Halloween Kisses by Kathy Bosman
Cuentos malévolos by Clemente Palma