Prince of Power (House of Terriot Book 2) Read online

  With what? Taking liberties? That was a laugh. They’d both done plenty of taking and had enjoyed it equally. So, what was this new little game? Make her wait? Make her want? Make her come after him?

  Not likely, pal!

  No matter how much she might want to.

  She sighed in frustration as she began a brisk walk from the Quarter toward her City Central hotel. Nothing about this trip to New Orleans was going as expected. Mostly because of one aggravating enemy with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes and a rumbling voice that made her desire vibrate like a tuning fork.

  A month ago, all she’d known of the Terriots was what was muttered under the angry, vengeful breaths of her own clan. Legends. Nightmares. That they were vicious, territorial beasts who preferred to brawl and fornicate, frequently and roughly, amongst themselves unless lured from their mountaintop for profit or revenge. Then they’d tear through everything in their path without mercy.

  Anticipating the fall of their mad king, his twelve sons, all born of different mothers, had battled for control with Cale emerging as victor. Cale, with his aggressive manner and questionable ideals, had come to New Orleans to parlay with Savoie. That had caught Rueben’s attention and gave Mia her chance to prove herself to her people. She’d come to Louisiana anonymously, using Guedry ties to infiltrate the churning political clime, to spy and learn whatever she could, however she could, from the reclusive group from Nevada.

  She knew they were dangerous. What she hadn’t expected was them to be so pulse-staggeringly desirable. Strong, rich, virile bad boys with their reddish hair and huge diamond earrings, who spoke their minds and took what they wanted . . . because they could. And her job was to get close to one of them.

  She'd chosen Colin at Casper Lee’s party because his playboy attitude would make what she’d planned easier, for her, not him. As drunk and randy as they both were after partying at his new king’s suite, Mia had had no trouble coaxing the Terriot prince behind closed doors. There, she’d stoically prepared to fall on her sword . . . or rather his, to discover what she needed to know . . . why they’d come en masse to New Orleans.

  Despite her suggestive come-on, Mia had no vast catalogue of under-the-covers experience, interested more in building her professional resume than her sexual reputation. Rumors of Colin Terriot's prowess in bed convinced her it wouldn't matter. She’d expected a master of technique. But it was his tenderness that had surprised her into lowering her guard.

  She could have spent an eternity lost in his kisses. Soft and sweet, determined yet gentle, building up so gradually she was in quivering knots even before his tongue got involved. The things he could do with that tongue! The expected slam, bam, she could have handled, but not his slow, resolute seduction of her senses. Her plan to interrogate him, and worse, dissolved into blissfully sated exhaustion. She’d slept like the dead in the warm circle of brawny arms, foolishly vulnerable, thinking herself safe.

  Colin Terriot had made her forget who he was, who she needed to be, and why what they were doing together was totally wrong. So, she’d run the minute she could tear herself away, and didn't look back as she threw herself at his brother as a less complicated source of information, to clear her own head and heart as well as keep Colin at bay.

  And if he resented her for that, good. Even if it made him wary of her new overtures now that they were forced back into close proximity.

  As she flagged down a cab in sexy shoes not made for walking, Mia cursed her weakness. To hell with all Terriot males and their overinflated egos. Unfortunately accompanied by their overinflated . . . She cut that image off quickly. She had no business toying with Colin. Obviously, what they'd casually started was no quick-to-extinguish flame, and now burned a second time, she'd be more cautious of the heat. He wouldn’t get the better of her.

  Just business.

  If Colin Terriot thought she was going to pace and pine for him, he’d be disappointed. She had a job to do.

  “Is that her?”

  Rico Terriot looked up from his glass. “Her who?”

  The bartender at the Shifters Only club nodded toward the door. “The one who’s got you twisted up worse than a short pair of pantyhose.”

  He spotted the sultry Mia Guedry and quickly turned away, but not before Amber James noticed the jolt of awareness altering his breathing.

  “She’s trouble,” he grumbled.

  “And you avoid that like the plague,” she mocked in amusement as she mopped up the area around his glass. She looked over his shoulder with a professional smile. “Evenin.’ What can I get you?”

  “What’s he having?” Mia asked, sidling onto the next stool.

  Watching the way Rico’s stare detailed her legs from the FMP shoes to the hem of a skirt that barely covered her assets, Amber guessed, “A heart attack?”

  Mia grinned. “Whiskey and water, please.” When the bartender went to pour it, she nudged her knee against Rico’s leg. “Hey, gorgeous. Drinking alone?”

  “Not anymore.” His palm curved over the top of her thigh, resting warm and obliging for whatever she had in mind.

  She leaned across him to steal a sample from his glass, drawing his attention like a targeting site to her ample cleavage. “I didn’t know you were staying in New Orleans.” Her gaze caressed him. “Good to know.”

  “Miss me?”

  She teased with a sassy grin and held index fingers a foot apart. “About this much?”

  His laugh burst out, loud and delighted. “Oh, that’s so flattering.”

  She stroked his dimpled cheek with one of those fingers, letting it trail down his neck to the throat of his shirt, hooking there to pull him forward toward her expectant lips. At the last instant, a swat to the back of his head had their noses painfully colliding.

  “Yo, Red. We got business.”

  Mia sat back, surprise quickly covered by cool annoyance as she regarded Colin Terriot. His unblinking stare grazed by hers as he jerked his head toward the office at the rear of the room and headed that way without another word.

  “You didn’t say you were meeting your brother.” Her tone jabbed like a short blade.

  Sliding off his stool, Rico offered a crooked smile. “You didn’t ask.” He kicked back his drink. “Wait for me?”

  “I don’t think so. Too many Terriots spoil the mood.”

  Scowling, he followed Colin, leaving Mia glaring after them as Amber set down her glass.

  “Playing with fire with those two,” she observed.

  “I like the heat,” Mia muttered.

  So why did she suddenly feel so cold?

  Rico closed the office door behind him, looking in question between his brother and the Upright step-father of their very cool young nephew Oscar. Alain Babineau was a good-looking guy in a J. Crew ad sort of way, and while they weren’t tight, they weren’t enemies, either.

  “Got your message,” he said to Colin. “What’s up?”

  Colin waved a deferring hand to the detective who occupied the adjacent leather sofa.

  “Cale said I could count on you. I was helping him look for your brother James, and he was going to return the favor.”

  Rico hesitated, giving Colin an odd look before saying, “Jamie’s in the wind, so whatdaya figure we owe you?”

  “His network’s destroyed. He’s gone underground where he can’t make any more mischief. I’ve got an All Points out on him. If he surfaces, we’ll have him.”

  Rico scoffed. “Nothing’s that easy with Jamie. You won’t have him until he’s dead. Isn’t that right, Col?”

  Colin’s brows lowered slightly. “He’s always been one step ahead,” he agreed, puzzled by Rico’s challenging manner.

  “Wonder why that is?” Rico peered at Colin as if he had an answer.

  “What did our king promise you?” Colin asked Babineau. “His word is our bond.”

  “That he’d help expose the biggest blight to our city.”

  “Your city,” Rico corrected, crossing to a small
refrigerator to help himself to a beer. Cracking the top, he leaned back against the wall and took a long swallow, not quite as relaxed as his baggy, street-smart look would suggest.

  Babineau glanced at him then turned back to his more obliging brother. “I want to bring down our police commissioner, Warren Brady. He’s in league with your outlaw brother and your enemies in the North. I believe that makes him your problem.”

  “What can we do?” Colin asked. “We haven’t exactly had a low profile since we got here.”

  “But you have an in.”

  Uneasiness tightened Colin’s belly. “What’s that?”

  “The kid. Your youngest brother. He was with Brady’s daughter at Cale’s going away party.”

  “No.”

  “He could get close—”

  “He could get killed. No.” When Babineau didn’t immediately argue, Colin asked tersely, “Cale agreed to this?”

  “He didn’t disagree.”

  Colin wanted to, loudly and unequivocally. Kip was a kid, barely twenty-one, a wide-eyed innocent to the subterfuge the detective suggested. He remembered the girl now, a pretty thing with a sassy smile. Why couldn’t such innocent attraction go unspoiled by the ugliness of their clan’s battles? He glanced Rico’s way but couldn’t read him. Taking a resigned breath, he expelled it heavily. “I’ll talk to him. It’s his choice, and you’ll abide by it.” That wasn’t a question.

  Babineau hesitated, conflict clear in his big baby blues. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. Make sure he knows what’s at stake.”

  Yeah. Sacrifice for an empty life hardly worth living.

  Agitated by what had played out between his brother and the human cop on levels he didn’t want to delve into, Rico returned to his barstool to scan the club’s interior, his disappointment evident. When he sat down, a drink was in front of him along with a sympathetic smile for a chaser.

  “Word of advice?”

  “Keep it to yourself,” he grumbled, wondering what bothered him more—that Mia was gone, or that she’d probably gone after someone else. He’d looked forward to her athletic exuberance to expel the complexities of his mood. He wasn’t a complicated guy, and his king and queen’s intrigues twisted him up into uncomfortable knots. He took a bitter swallow from his glass and glared up at the annoyingly non-judgmental Amber. “What?”

  “If you try to push between those two, you’ll get crushed.”

  “Says you,” he mumbled, feeling that pinch already.

  “From the altar of the Church of Broken Hearts.” Her hand pressed briefly over his. “Can I get an Amen?”

  He glowered until she turned to another customer then muttered to himself, “Amen.”

  The alley behind the Shifter club, Cheveux du Chien, was lit by a single flickering bulb. As Colin thumbed his key fob, the lights to his ride flashed like lightning strikes in a complement to his mood. He turned up his collar as the first fat raindrops fell, then came to a dead stop. The vehicle had a new hood ornament. His blood pressure dropped to his groin.

  Mia Guedry perched on the front of the rental, knees spread slightly to accommodate the indolent dangle of her hands. “What took you so long, Dreamy? Hashing out world peace?”

  “Get off.” He started around the car, refusing to look where his eyes wanted to go.

  “I was hoping to, but you’re not making it easy.”

  As he crossed in front of her, one sexy leg stretched out at crotch level to bar passage and the other set up a road block behind his butt. He stopped but refused to turn, demanding, “What do you want, Mia?”

  “You.”

  His shoulders rose and fell in aggravation. “You’ve had me and made it very clear I was nothing interesting enough to hold your attention. Stop messing with me. I don’t like it.”

  Both legs began a suggestive rubbing. “Maybe I was wrong.”

  “You are wrong.” He faced her abruptly, hands gripping those tempting bare calves hard enough to leave unintentional bruises. “Everything about you is wrong. You’re bad news I don’t need. You want my brother, take him. He’s a big boy. Be his problem. I’ve got my own.”

  Mesmerizing dark eyes fixed on his. He couldn’t look away as she said what he hoped was the only true thing to come from between those red lips.

  “I don’t want your brother. I want you.” Rain fell heavier, misting her features, wetting thick black hair, molding the fabric of her top to glorious breasts. “Colin.” Just his name.

  All reason fell away.

  He reached beneath the scandalously short skirt, tearing away nearly non-existent panties as she pulled at his belt, yanking open his jeans. He jerked her toward him so abruptly, she fell back against the hood of the car, one leg over his shoulder, the other curled about his waist. She arched, crying out at the force of his deep entry. When she tried to reach up for him, he caught her wrists, pressing the backs of her hands to the shiny paint job, holding her in place to receive his aggressive thrusts.

  The light flickering behind him cast Colin’s features in harsh ridges and shadows. His eyes gleamed hot and gold. As intensity built with the speed of a bullet train, his lips curled back from savagely clenched teeth, undeniably the most rawly sexual thing she’d ever seen. Or imagined.

  Too soon! His fierce plunging strokes were friction on eager tinder, striking flame, searing Mia with waves of combustive heat. The sight of him taking his own rough pleasure against the backdrop of seething heavens, head thrown back, big body shuddering, made her come in a deluge until wrung dry and trembling as he finally went still, continuing to pulse inside her. His breaths panted hard and fast for a long minute as she tried to recover from their quick and totally devastating union.

  And then he stepped back, leaving her gasping and ridiculously weak, to zip, buckle, and regard her as if something earthshaking hadn’t just happened between them. His flat tone brought spinning emotions to a halt.

  “Where can I drop you off?”

  She blinked. Like his laundry? Like an annoying obligation?

  Her knees snapping together just a tad late to protect her pride, Mia wriggled off the car, leaving her imprint on its hood. The way he’d left his on her emotions.

  “No thanks. Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. I left a motor running inside.” She pushed past him before he could guess that the dampness on her face wasn’t just raindrops.

  Colin let her go, too shaky inside to trust himself with words or actions. Bitter truth scored him. She was going back to Rico. After what she’d said to him. After what they’d enjoyed.

  I want you. Three little words, and he’d jumped her like an animal when he’d prided himself on never being rough with females. He couldn’t control the beast she released inside him. She knew it. Was counting on it.

  When was he going to stop letting her make a fool of him?

  Colin dropped behind the wheel, slamming the car door against now brutal weather. The interior immediately fogged with humidity and the remnants of his lust. Realizing he still held her panties like a runner-up ribbon in his hand, he flung them up on the dash and started the engine. Big mistake as the vents filled the vehicle with her hot scent. He inhaled deeply, holding that fragrance in for as long as he could then let it out on an exasperated curse.

  As he backed from the alley and angled the car toward the street, a streak of movement caught his attention, sealing his misery. Rico’s big bike.

  And scooched up behind him, was Mia Guedry.

  Rico had no illusions when he pulled up outside her hotel. He left the motor idling, the way he’d known his would be the second she’d stepped back into the bar looking dangerously fragile, covered in his brother’s scent. She’d leaned against him, whispering, “Can you take me home?” and he knew there’d be no invitation beyond her front door.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as she tottered on the sidewalk in those stilt-high heels. His gaze froze at the obvious handprints on her lovely legs. An ugly mood growled through him. Instead of answering, she p
ut an arm about his neck, drawing him over to touch a passionless kiss to his cheek.

  “Thanks, Rico.” Then she turned away and rushed for the door to get out of the weather and away from his questions.

  Dammit, Amber was right. He’d never had a chance.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Looking no farther than a scalding shower and a bottle of wine, Mia locked her door and started across the living area, dragging her battered psyche behind her. What a fool she was, letting her pride and inexperienced passion get the better of her. She was no match for the coolly cynical Terriot prince. Now any leverage she’d had was gone along with any ridiculous notions she might have held. Maybe she should just go home.

  A soft voice from the shadows nearly put her into arrest.

  “About time. I’m out of ways to entertain myself.”

  Once she’d conquered her alarm, Mia snapped on the closest light and whirled to face her intruder, letting all her pent-up frustrations fly. “You’d better not have been prowling through my underwear drawer.”

  The lean, handsome man raised a brow as he unwound himself from her sofa to stand. “A delightful journey, I’m sure, but I prefer to be the only one who hasn’t enjoyed being in your drawers. Which of those Terriot buffoons took that trip with you this evening? I know you think the quickest way to a male’s heart is behind his zipper, but really, have some standards.”

  Rankled by his sarcasm, she snapped, “That explains my lack of interest in you, since you have no heart. What are you doing in here? And where the hell have you been?”

  He carried an empty glass to her counter to fill it and another, handing the second to her. “I’ve been savoring this Cabernet. You really do have excellent taste—in wine. What I’ve been doing is staying under Rueben’s radar, as we agreed. I got you this diplomatic opportunity after that MacCreedy bitch objected to having me too close for comfort, so it wouldn’t do for me to be seen hanging about on street corners. You might show some gratitude.”