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Laughing, Bodie spun on his heel and returned to his own study where he removed his clothing. He closed his eyes, centering himself, and called forth the spirit of his tiger who roared in response as he charged towards Bodie. The tiger leapt at Bodie in his mind as lightning and thunder crashed around him, and a swirling maelstrom encompassed him. Fire and power flowed all around and through him, accompanied by bright colors and a mist that crackled with all that was, had been, and would be again.
When the storm had dissipated, where once stood a man, now stood a tiger who roared his defiance and announced his arrival. Bounding towards the doors, Bodie tripped the trigger that automatically opened them. Navarro had installed the system after Bodie seemed to get into the habit of forgetting to unlock or even open the doors and simply crashed through them, splattering glass everywhere.
CHAPTER5
BODIE
Bodie hit the grass at a full gallop. Navarro was right; it wasn’t good to keep the tiger within caged. Taking a deep breath, he charged across the open lawn, hearing his people call a greeting as he flew past them. Stretching out his body to maximize his stride, he entered the tall grass that fringed the manicured lawns. He moved with grace and power, enjoying the prowess he embodied in his tiger form.
The further away from the house he got, the more he was able to let go of the residual guilt for having spent the night with Larisa. After all, she had drugged him with catnip. What had she been thinking? She had been thinking, he had to admit to himself, that she was unhappy and believed that as first lady of the clan she would, at least, have some semblance of power. She’d been raised in a clan that had athe ends justify the meansmentality. However it had happened, Larisa was now where she belonged—with Navarro. Bodie had absolute faith in his beta’s ability to claim the beautiful tigress and provide her with the love and stability she would need to finally settle and be happy.
The rough texture of the taller grass tickled his paws. The short grass of the manicured lawns had the feel of velvet, but the sawgrass on which he trod now was rougher and felt as if it had a dull blade along the edges. Bodie reminded himself it was good to get in touch with the earth without the barrier of a shoe. In the world in which they lived—a world that forced them to hide their very nature—it was important to not forget who and, more importantly, what they were.
Bodie slowed his pace as he approached the swamp. He loved the different textures and scents of the marshland as the ground transitioned from mostly firm earth to the soft, spongy texture of the marsh and then the swamp itself. Quicksand was abundant throughout this peripheral border along the three sides of his home. Young tigers and newcomers were taught how to spot it, but more importantly, how to escape its deadly hold before being given access to any of the land where it could be found.
He heard the hiss of a snake as it coiled to strike and smiled inwardly as he heard it uncoil itself and slither away to safety. Copperheads and cottonmouths were abundant within the swamps, as were alligators, snapping turtles, and wild boar. The latter three made for good hunting, but all of the creatures of the swamp posed a threat to most who entered its area, especially those who were not knowledgeable of those dangers.
Bodie loved the swamp. Navarro always told him that he was a true Louisianan. Bodie knew that many found swamps creepy and uncomfortable and believed they should all be drained. He was not among them. They were a vital part of the ecosystem and possessed subtle shadings of color that emphasized their delicate beauty and serenity. Spanish moss dangled from the limbs of trees that had been in existence since before the War of 1812, the war in which New Orleans had played a vital role in the defeat of the British Invaders. Bodie knew that some saw the swamp as intimidating, dangerous, and full of despair, but to him it represented strength, beauty, and resilience. While the swamps could be a death trap, they could often provide the solace needed for the soul to seek its own truth and to act as a guide to a better place on the other side.
The swamp was also the place Bodie most often found the answers—sometimes to questions he didn’t even know he had. There was a clarity to the swamp alongside its murky appearance that had evolved over millennia. Most of the time, Bodie knew himself and his path. He could act boldly, doing what needed to be done and acting in the best interests of the clan. But there were other times, in the darkness of the soul found only in the still of the night, that confusion reigned, and he could feel something reaching deep inside him with its tentacles, wrapping around his heart and lungs, threatening to steal away his lifeforce and leave him with nothing.
It was at those times she appeared. In the beginning she had only been a vague and shapeless form in the miasma that seemed to hang in the air that permeated the swamp. Over time, that form had developed an outline and then substance. Bodie knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he would recognize her the moment he laid eyes on her.
She was taller than average, but still small in comparison to him, with a perfect hourglass figure. Some might have thought her to be carrying a bit more weight than was currently the trend, but Bodie liked his women to look like women from a distance, the sensual curves calling to him in a way that an athletic body just didn’t. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with any woman’s figure—they each had their own beauty—but for him, the feminine forms found in Renaissance paintings and sculptures were his ideal. He could well imagine fisting a handful of the long, black curls he felt certain she would have. Even the thought of her made his dick begin to swell.
Bodie loped through the swamp, avoiding the quicksand and places he knew were fragile and could be crushed by his weight. An alligator thought to challenge him until Bodie turned his way, drawing his lips up and away from his teeth as he hissed at the alligator. Apparently, alligators were good at determining the odds of their winning in a fight. The gator whipped its body around, dove beneath the surface of the water, and propelled itself out of Bodie’s strike range with a powerful lash of its tail.
In the center of the swamp, Bodie ascended a small atoll, lifted his muzzle to the sky, and roared his anger at those who stood between him and his fated mate. He was more convinced than ever that she was near. He needed to find her before the cartel did. Gutierrez was a ruthless man and would think nothing of harming or even killing Bodie’s mate to gain an advantage over him. The problem was, the capybara had not even an inkling of an understanding of what a fated mate was. If the cartel harmed so much as one hair on her head, Bodie would never stop until they were all dead. The Sicilians may well have defined and codified the notion of a vendetta, but only a tiger could make the capybara understand the depth of revenge he would enact.
Shaking off his reverie, Bodie inhaled deeply. Detecting nothing amiss, he turned toward the mansion and made his way back. Arriving, he re-entered his study and engaged the remote that would close and lock the doors and close the blinds so he could shift in privacy. Once he stood in the soft darkness, he could feel the spirit of his ancestors. He acknowledged their strength, skill, and intelligence and then bade his tiger to recede until the man took his place.
Bodie pulled on his clothes and made his way toward the kitchen. Shifting always left him horny and hungry. He wasn’t in the mood to alleviate the former with his hand, but he was sure there was food to be found in the kitchen. He smiled in sympathy for his future mate. She was not yet a tigress and so would not understand the emotions, instincts, and needs that drove him, but she would come to understand and embrace his need to fuck her on a regular and frequent basis. Had she been present, he would already be on top of her, his cock buried deep as the barbs released so he could rake her tender flesh and make her yowl with pleasure.
“I knew you would come to my kitchen,” said Maurice, the chef they had stolen away from the tiger clan in Paris, when he had left them to come to New Orleans.
Poor Maurice had made the mistake of choosing the art of cooking over the art of war and had then fallen for the alpha’s daughter. Her father had been enraged and had attacked them, succeeding in killing his daughter and leaving Maurice for dead. As night had fallen, Maurice dragged himself and his beloved’s cold corpse from the estate, burying her in a secret place and immigrating afterward to America. It had been more than two decades since the young lovers had been so cruelly torn apart, but Maurice had never shown any interest in any female—tigress or otherwise—since.
“I heard you calling to her from the swamp. I think you are one of the few who truly understands what I felt for Fleur,” he said in his heavily accented voice.
Bodie nodded. “I do, even though my fated mate has yet to reveal herself to me. I was just thinking about you and Fleur. If you ever want to retrieve her body and bury her here atForce et Honneur, I will help you do so.”
Maurice smiled. “Strength and Honor. I thought it an odd name for an estate, but I soon came to understand it was the code and description of those who lived here. I know you have made the offer before, my alpha, but I always turned you down, thinking it was too dangerous a task just to indulge my fanciful and romantic notions. I know now that it is not. When we have banished Gutierrez and his cartel from our midst, I think I would like to bring Fleur here. I believe she will rest easier, and when my time has come, we can rest together in a place and with a people who would have embraced us.”
Bodie nodded. “I made the offer because I believed it was the right thing to do for one of my people. But knowing that my own fated mate is near, I understand what a comfort it would be to know she did not lie hidden among those who had murdered her. We could still seek retribution when we go after her.”
“No, my alpha, her father is long dead and her brother who rules there now was only a boy and had no part in what happened.”
“Do you think he would allow us to remove her body without a fight?”
“Doubtful. They say the knowledge of what her father did drove his wife to murder him in his sleep before taking her own life. I would think her brother carries far too much anger and grief to let her go without a fight. Better we slip in, retrieve the body and depart without anyone the wiser. Do not think to exclude me. You will never find Fleur without me to show you the way, and there may well be those who would indulge an old man’s wish to be reunited with his beloved and not challenge us.”
Bodie nodded. “Again, something I would not have understood until now. Now, what do you have for me?”
Maurice chuckled. “When I heard you roar, I was glad I had started a big pot of jambalaya cooking when I first got up.” He took down a big bowl, heaped red beans and rice and then ladled the jambalaya over it. “I know that traditionally it is served over white rice, but I find our clan prefers dirty rice or the red beans and rice.”
Bodie took a big spoonful, savoring the taste. “Don’t kid yourself, Maurice, there’s not a one of us who wouldn’t devour your jambalaya if you served it over brussels sprouts.”
“You do know there are those who enjoy brussels sprouts.”
