Rise by Moonlight Read online

  – – –

  A closed bathroom door while his mate showered twisted Max’s fears tighter. Was she hiding evidence of worse damage or just from him in general? Neither was acceptable. He shrugged out of his jacket, movements rote as he brushed undetectable wrinkles from the exquisite fabric before hanging it in the massive closet they shared. Closing his eyes, he focused on deep, even breaths. How did one force an issue ready to fracture the awkward balance of opposite worlds? A tightrope they’d tiptoed since first shared glance.

  For her, he’d stepped away from shadowy pursuits to assume the role of businessman. As if that wasn’t shock enough to his solitary lifestyle, somehow, he’d also inherited a clan of endangered shapeshifters threatened with extermination. She’d been his complete opposite, a fiercely determined detective sworn to protect a different kind of citizen. Though their paths were separate, they led to the same end . . . the survival of those they loved. Hers walked the streets of New Orleans oblivious to the danger closing in on their right to ignorance. His kind existed only because they remained anonymous, working and living undetected next to their human counterparts. But those pathways were on a collision course, bringing their goals at odds once more, upping the level of personal danger past his comfort zone.

  His precious detective didn’t understand. Max feared for her, not because she was weaker, but because she was his. Just, as she would ferociously claim, he was hers. Two parts of the same whole now that they were a bonded pair in both human and shifter worlds. But those two parts would soon become a trio.

  He paced the room where he’d been raised in isolation by Jimmy Legere, his path as rigidly back and forth as the earlier conversation, going nowhere in a distressing hurry. Though they hadn’t had any kind of normal family life growing up, their child, he vowed with every glance at that ever-increasing midsection, would be different. She’d be fiercely loved and protected, spared from the violence that had shaped both parents. He’d do anything to keep that promise. Anything. And that included meeting his mate’s cautious stare as she exited their posh bathroom retreat.

  “You look refreshed,” he murmured, smile neutral.

  “You look . . . Savoie, you are the hardest damned person to read sometimes. Hell,” his wife corrected, “make that most of the time.”

  As she crossed to where he stood by their open balcony doors, a cool night breeze did tempting things beneath one of his long T-shirts. Her fingertips did the same along his shirtfront as she stepped up close. Though not her nature to hide from a problem, she’d mastered circumventing them.

  “Could you just hold me?”

  “I can do that, Detective.”

  Big hands soothed along the tough line of her, one going high to press flat between always capable shoulders, the other slipping low to rest at the tempting dip of her spine. She melted against him, all supple muscle and heat and—Max realized with a jolt-vulnerability.

  “I don’t like it when we argue.” Her long, low sigh triggered a seismic heart quake.

  “Nor do I, sha.” Discussion neatly tabled for the night, but not forever. “How’d you suggest we use our time instead?”

  She leaned back far enough for him to test the temperature of her mood. That fire kindled earlier sparked anew. “If you’re up for suggestions, we could adjourn to more comfortable surroundings, say someplace king-sized, oh King of the Beasts?”

  “I believe we’re of one mind. On this, at least.”

  Why had he added that codicil? As she went still in his embrace, stubborn chin tucking, Max stroked fingers through her short hair, clutching to tip her head back so he could hold that suspicious gaze.

  “In all things,” he amended. “There’s no disagreement or point of pride greater than your place in my heart. You know that, Charlotte. It’s been true since the moment I met you.”

  She held her stony stance for a beat longer then whispered, “Same here, Savoie.”

  He snorted. “Really? Even when you were putting me in restraints and reading me my rights?”

  “Especially then.” She traced a fingertip down his rough cheek, letting it linger along the seam of his lips until they moistened beneath her touch. “Would you like me to prove it? My cuffs are right over there?” Her head gave a sassy nod toward the dresser. “Or I could just phone you? Maybe invite Cale to make it a party line?”

  His booming laugh burst out as he scooped her up for a brisk trip to their bedside. “Not my kinda party. I’ve no plans to share you with anyone.”

  “Except our daughter.”

  His move to deposit her atop their covers halted. “Our little girl,” he mused. “Marie for my mother and Camille for yours.” When her expression clouded, he nudged, “And Dr. LaRoche says everything is fine with her?” The briefest hesitation made him demand, “Charlotte, is everything fine?”

  Cee Cee smiled. “Yes. Of course. Susanna’s being cautious because of the genetic thing, but she doesn’t see any reason for worry.”

  The relief in his features was reward enough for that tiny lie. Or so Cee Cee told herself as the house settled into peaceful silence. Bone-weary from the evening’s physical and emotional trials, she let thoughts prowl, comforted by the security radiating from the male tucked in close behind her, front-to-back, still wearing what she wryly considered his chastity gym shorts. Clutching the arm riding her ever-increasing middle, she sighed.

  Having never expected to depend upon anyone except her childhood best friend, let alone a man both mobster and monster, she’d quickly found Max Savoie a habit impossible to break. Not that she wanted to. Never that. But after a lifetime of caring only for herself with a determined, excluding selfishness, sometimes she had to be reminded to let him in, to trust him to trust her. Like now.

  Uncomfortably sweaty as her hormonal sauna made closeness impossible, she edged out from under Max’s intimate drape to scowl at the ceiling. She had no defensible reason for hiding her agenda. If anyone could be counted on to support her choices, that figure lay beside her. She knew that. But knowing and blindly believing were sometimes difficult to justify.

  Alain Babineau had her back on the streets. Mary Kate Malone, now Sister Catherine, held her confidence as sacred as the sister’s God. But Max Savoie encompassed her heart with a tenderness and passion she’d never allowed or given another. This trinity, those two friends and this lover, were her world now. Yet she held back because a part of her still denied that good could defeat all the evil around her. And that darkness, here in her native city and in the distant North, grew, relentless, cold and all consuming.

  A threat to her unborn daughter.

  CHAPTER TWO

  After a restless night next to a female hiding things from him, finding his table surrounded by a rival clan who discussed bringing war to his backyard over cups of chicory coffee and the remains of his housekeeper’s mammoth breakfast added to Max’s testy mood.

  An immediate hush fell over the four Terriot princes and their kingdom-less king. Though only half-siblings, these five of Bram Terriot’s original twelve heirs all bore the hard, harsh traits of their father’s clan: Strongly cut features, varying shades of red hair, and the deadly strength of body and mind that made them unequaled warriors. Brutally trained to protect what was theirs and take what they wanted, their fiercely competitive natures had sent four of their dozen to early ends and crafted two more into dangerous enemies, leaving just one outside their arguments. These five had come to his door, bending reluctant knees to seek shelter for their kind, a humbling that made them desperate. And possibly dangerous.

  “Hope you saved me something.”

  His amused tone relaxed the brothers.

  Colin, the big, pragmatic ladies’ man of the group kicked out a heavy chair, flashing his cover-model smile, as the others filled Max’s cup and shoved platters his way.

  After that first bolstering sip of harsh, dark brew, Max looked to Turow, the newly arrived, still Nevada-based brother and asked, “News?”

&n
bsp; “Nothing good,” the somber tracker admitted, tone carefully neutral.

  Used to standing in the background to observe through cool blue eyes, Turow Terriot wasn’t much for giving things like feelings or opinions away, especially after mating with the traitor he’d been ordered to bring to justice instead of to his bed. Now he and his clever, survivalist mate, Sylvia, provided sanctuary for desperate members of their clan, many of whom had once demanded her head.

  “We’ve done a couple of passes over what’s left of our home,” he added, quiet voice covering any emotion. “Lots of strangers poking about but no sign of family.”

  He didn’t say what all were thinking. No additional survivors. Cale, thanks to his bodyguard’s sacrificial action, had been the last to leave their mountaintop hideaway alive . . . just barely.

  “Do they have a way to contact you if they’re stranded somewhere, hurt or alone?”

  Christopher “Kip” Terriot, the youngest, tech-minded one of the group, spoke to Max’s question. “We’ve got a system for checking in, but lately—” Words choked off abruptly.

  His mother, stepfather and aunt had been found in the rubble of their home, that pain still too fresh to get past new losses easily.

  Cale laid a hand on his shoulder, blame for his half-brother’s grief shadowing taut features. Max knew the feeling. Uneasy was the head that wore the crown with all its troubles, and Cale, the strutty little brawler with his scars and tattoos, had worn it surprisingly well up until now.

  “The plan was for no one to escape,” their king intoned heavily. “Everyone who did is a gift. Don’t forget that.” Fingers squeezed tight. “We have you to thank, Chris. You and Row, and Sylvia, who surprised the ever-loving shit outta me.” He provided Turow with a faint smile.

  After they’d shuttled dozens to the safety of her casino fortress, Turow and his controversial mate had scooped their battered king from the frigid waters of Lake Tahoe in the helicopter she piloted. This, after he had once been prepared to execute her.

  “Heroes, like family,” Cale concluded, “come in all shapes, sizes and bloodlines. We owe Savoie. He didn’t have to take us in. He coulda kicked us aside like strays. We’ve got a lot to be grateful for.”

  Rico, the hot-headed brother with his flaming hair and temper who’d been training the New Orleans clan to move as a warrior unit, gave a harsh laugh. “Grateful two of our brothers broke our father out of his prison in Reno? That he’s plotting who knows what with who knows who to murder the rest of us? Yeah, I’m just doing a happy dance over our good fortune.”

  After finishing the final bite from a once-overflowing plate, Colin, ever the strategist, spoke up. “They weren’t working alone. They got the juice from someone. That’s what makes me nervous. Who else should we be worried about?”

  “Everyone,” Max concluded. Silence dropped over his company. “You can’t trust anyone. Not your friends. Not who you’re related to, unless you’re mated to them.”

  “That include you, Savoie?” Rico wisecracked.

  Max leveled a cool-eyed stare at the smirking redhead. “Yes. Were I you, I’d have me on that list. For your females, your unborn, you can’t afford to overlook anyone’s motives. Do I have one for wanting you dead? No. Not at this minute, but things can change.”

  “That’s a pretty damned cynical speech for someone who has our king sleeping across the hall from his mate.”

  Max returned Colin’s wry smile. “Keeps me alive. And I’da soon keep all of you that way, too. As for my mate, you’d best be worried about her, not the other way around.”

  He finished his coffee in a gulp and surveyed the ragged-edged group. As one who intimately understood loss and despair, he addressed the desperation cloaked by their bravado. “I’ve never had much luck with those who called themselves my family, but I consider you my allies. I trust our shared goals more than I believe blood wins out over self-interest. If I’m a fool to do so, guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Guess we both will.” Cale pushed back from the table to stand as Cee Cee entered the room. In unison, his brothers did the same as he said, “Good morning, Detective.”

  As the Terriot leader tracked the intimate look his host and hostess exchanged, a sudden melancholy claimed their usually rowdy guest, that emptiness of missing the other half that made him whole.

  A cocky smirk masked momentary sadness as Cale announced, “We’ll let you have a meal with your mate. We need to get some fresh air and exercise ’fore we get fat on all this good food.” That said, he led the way out through arch-topped glass doors onto the wrap-around veranda, each brother nodding to Cee Cee who looked after them for a moment before taking a seat beside instead of across from Max.

  She arched a brow as he filled her coffee cup half way, his concession to her cutting down from an entire pot. “Aren’t you afraid of being bitten by that dog you tease with questions of trust?”

  He smiled at her cynicism. “Maybe. But I like them, Charlotte. I understand the things they want, fear, and stand for. I’ve suffered the kind of losses they have. And I’d rather have wild dogs like them running loose on my property than collared pets looking for a place to sink their teeth.”

  As her hand covered his, they watched through the wide vista of glass doors as the five Terriots crossed the porch. Though the morning was damp and cold, they stripped off shirts, shoes, and socks to stretch and limber up.

  Cee Cee jumped as Max nudged her in the ribs.

  “Might wanna suck up that drool.”

  She provided a naughty smile. “I was admiring their impressive . . . scars.”

  They were impressive, Max begrudged, all taut flesh stretched over muscles hard as violently hewn rock, each rugged physique marred by harsh imperfections caused by unimaginable things. They moved almost eerily in sync, not speaking as they breathed in the wildness of the dawn before jogging across the yard.

  “Go ahead.”

  Max gave a start and glanced her way. “What?”

  “Go with them. You know you want to.” At his hesitation, she reasoned, “You can work any day. How often do you get to play outside with your friends? Hurry before they get too far ahead.”

  “Darlin’, I won’t have any trouble catching up.”

  They’d disappeared into the thick woods by the time Max slipped out through the French doors, leaving his designer suit coat, linen shirt, tie and Italian loafers trailing behind him.

  To run.”

  – – –

  No surprise, they left little disturbed in their wake. Cleverly disguising their number by treading in one another’s footsteps, they moved fast and effortlessly through the tangled woods he’d traversed since childhood. Smart. Never careless. Dangerous opponents, useful friends. Max grinned, relishing the challenge. He followed at a brisk pace, until realizing somewhere along the path, the steps went from imprinted by many to just one, the slightly uneven impressions of a still recovering Cale.

  So where were the others?

  Just a whisper of air at his back had Max turning, coming nose-to-nose with Turow Terriot. Before he could react, Colin and Rico flanked him on either side, Kip dropping from an overhead branch to block him from continuing after their king. Their eyes gleamed in the deep morning shadows.

  Had he made a fatal mistake?

  With a low, rusty chuckle, Cale came up from behind his youngest brother, placing a hand on Kip’s shoulder to move him aside so he could smirk at their host. “Those who’ve found themselves in your position rarely live to tell it.”

  “Might say the same,” was Max’s cool response.

  A flash of teeth. “We could find out,” Cale began, his smile spreading, hinting of another agenda, “or we could teach them what you, me and Colin already know about who and what we are.”

  The other three exchanged quick glances.

  “I think we should show them,” Colin announced, starting to open the front of his tech pants.

  “Whoa, dude!” Rico’s hand
s flew up to block his eyes. “Tell me this ain’t gonna turn into something that’ll scar me for life.”

  “No,” Kip murmured, stepping in closer. “I think we’re going to find out how Max helped Col cheat death.”

  Their brother had been dying, destroyed from inside and out by some new toxin conceived by their enemies in the North. Then suddenly, all traces of the poisons eating through him were gone overnight except for the scarring on one hand. Clean living? Or magic?

  With a lift of his brows and a mysterious smile, Colin stepped free of his clothing, his chiseled physique bold and bare. After a roll of massive shoulders, he dropped to a four-point stance on mossy ground. A low groan tore from him as muscles rolled and tensed . . . and he changed, until the only thing recognizable were sharply intelligent green eyes.

  Jaws dropped. He’d transformed, not into the huge, half-beast state they adopted when doing battle, but completely, into something . . . else. What stood before them on four legs with a tail was a huge reddish-brown wolf.

  “Holy shit!” Speaking for them all, Turow reached out cautiously to . . . his brother?

  With a quick snap, the animal’s teeth closed about Row’s hand, holding with the slightest pressure as one green eye winked. The curious trio crouched around him, touching the wide head and muscular form lightly.

  “Can you . . .?” Rico began, then looked up at Savoie. “Can he hear us, understand us?”

  “Yes, but we can’t speak while in this base form.”

  “We?” his startled glance cut from Max to Cale. “You’ve done this, too?”

  Their king chuckled. “Word to the wise, don’t transform back in the middle of a public place. It’s kinda chilly and tends to draw attention.”

  Turow stroked his palm along broad, furred shoulders. “Amazing. Is he in pain?”

  Max shook his head, assuring, “The first transformation is rocky, but it gets easier. You’re not as powerful as you’d be on two legs, but healing is incredibly fast,” he placed a hand to his own bullet-scarred chest, remembering. “You’ll go unnoticed by your enemies. And it’s a freedom like nothing you can imagine.” He paused then added quietly, “Something my father taught me.”