In The Cover of Night Page 4

  “You’re handling this a lot better than I expected.”

  “Who’s gonna believe me, huh? I don’t believe me.” Onessa slapped her hand over her head and gasped in pain. “Ow, that fucking hurt.”

  “You have a dirty mouth.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re a peeping Tom.” Cyr had nothing to say to that. “It was you staring in my window the other night!”

  “The windows were fogged. I didn’t see shit.”

  “You honestly expect me to believe that?”

  She was arguing with a man who could turn into a panther. A very large panther if her memory was right.

  “It’s true. Do you have any questions you’d like to ask?”

  She had a ton. But there was only one question she needed answered now.

  “Are you gonna kill me?”

  “Why the fuck would I do that?”

  “Because I know your secret.”

  Cyr was quiet for a long time before he said, “You do, but like you said, who’s gonna believe you. You’re not a prisoner, and you’re free to leave. But if you do go and say something to others, we’ll know.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Honey, if I were threatening you, you’d know.” His voice deepened, and the beginnings of a growl rumbled in his chest. She watched as he made his way over to a nightstand and picked up a hot bowl of soup. Chicken broth, spice and baked chicken with celery and carrots wafted into her senses. He brought it over to her. Homemade chicken soup. “I made this for you to eat. Until you can get back on your feet, you can stay here. I’ll be in the room across the hall. If you need anything, just call.”

  “I’m calling right now.” Did he think she’d just let him walk out without a real explanation? Yeah, right.

  Cyr sighed. “What do you want to know?” he grumped.

  “Everything,” Onessa insisted.

  “I’m a werecat.”

  “Werecat, like a werewolf? Only you’re a panther?”

  “Correct.”

  “Beau and his people are all werewolves, then?”

  “Yeah, although he’s known to take in strays.”

  “Strays?”

  “Half-breeds.”

  “Sounds like you discriminate.” She assumed, but what else could she call it?

  “No, I don’t. But it’s harder for us to get along with outsiders.”

  “Is that why you were a giant dick when we first met, and an even bigger dick earlier today?”

  “No, my dick is giant all by itself.”

  She did not need to know that.

  You so wanted to know that.

  No, she didn’t. Onessa wasn’t going that route. She and Cyr were in a professional relationship, and as much as him telling her that he could shift into a black panther should have frightened her away, it didn’t. And she didn’t mention her recurring dreams of the cat. But the more and more she thought about, the more it made sense. Kind of. Not wanting to pester him too much, she yawned.

  “I think I’m good for now. I’m sure more questions will pop up here and there.

  Cyr nodded before he propped up her pillows and helped her to sit. “I’ll be back.”

  He returned a few minutes later with a woman old enough to be Onessa’s grandmother.

  “I’m Delia. I’m a doctor of sorts. Cyriaque asked me to look at your head and ankle. Do I have permission to touch you?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Cyr left the room as the woman went about checking Onessa from head to toe.

  “I can see why you two are perfect for each other.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You and Cyriaque. You’re his mate. You know nothing of our kind, yet you already have a kinship with us. Alaric told me about what the panthers and cherry blossoms mean to you. You’re also attracted to Cyriaque.”

  “How can you tell?” Was she giving him the eyes? Shit. If Delia were astute enough to notice, Cyr would have picked up on it, too.

  “I have a good inkling about people. But as a shifter, we can all pick up on a lot of things. Especially during matings.”

  “I thought panthers were solitary in nature. Only joining up to procreate?”

  “For our ancestors, that would be true. But we’re not only panther, we’re also human. The drive to socialize is something we need. We crave it. Touch, affection. We hold a tender spot towards one another.”

  Could have fooled me.

  “But how?”

  “Some would call it a curse. Me, I call it a blessing. Werecats come in different cat forms. But for us panthers, it’s our birthright. The story goes that a traveler came upon three little cubs who would have been eaten by a giant snake if he hadn’t rescued them. He took them in, and when the mother cat returned to find her cubs missing, she was angry. But when she came across the stranger, who explained that he’d saved her cubs, she was grateful. And as such, rewarded him with her strength and powers. The man didn’t know she was the goddess, Bast.”

  “You’re descendants of Bast?”

  “Yes.”

  “But it doesn’t explain why you think Cyr and I are perfect for one another.”

  Delia gently touched Onessa’s bare shoulder, revealing a panther’s paw. Then she pointed to her hip where one of the branches of the cherry tree rested. Her tattoos. Whoa.

  “WHEN DO YOU PLAN ON pulling your head out of your ass, Cyr?”

  Alaric was trying to convince him that there was more to Onessa. He’d gotten protective of her, but not for the reasons Alaric thought. You sure about that? He’d made a mistake. She wasn’t his mate. Destiny wouldn’t try and fuck him over twice. Who says this time will be fucked up?

  “She’s pretty, sure. But that’s where the attraction stops.”

  “Then why were you trying to bite my head off back at the swamp when I touched her?”

  “You were holding her,” he rushed on to say, and Alaric raised a brow at his words. Fuck. He was so screwed. “It doesn’t matter. She’s probably going to run first chance she gets once her ankle heals. Ed and Eddy changing in front of her practically scared the shit out of her. I don’t care about her. I don’t like her.” Liar.

  He liked her too much.

  7

  DELIA TOLD ONESSA SHE’D be in bed at least another week. Which meant that Cyr was bringing her three meals a day in bed, and he was nice about it. The little lady would come and sit with her, and they’d chat about everything food. It was pleasant and relaxing.

  “All right, tater tots or red potatoes?” Delia asked. They’d been playing this food game for days, and Onessa appreciated the woman’s attempts to make her laugh.

  “Taters all the way.”

  “Why?” Delia asked.

  “’Cause they’re fucking amazing,” Cyr rumbled from the doorway. He stood just inside the room. Onessa hadn’t heard him come in. He was stealthy that way. His shoulder rested on the jamb, arms folded across his chest, making his muscles bulge. His hair was in one of those man buns, and it felt like he only had eyes for her. Pushing off the door’s frame, he walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, gently placing a hand on her ankle. “Delia wants you walking today. I thought it would be a good idea if we tried the garden.”

  Her stomach fluttered at the sound of his voice. Was he planning to walk with her?

  “You walking with me?”

  “How else are you gonna walk, Onessa? You need someone to help support you.”

  “True.”

  Delia stood from her chair and raised both arms over her head. “I’d better get back. Malcolm will be waiting for his lunch. Talk to you tomorrow, chèr?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good, see you tomorrow. Cyriaque, you take good care of our girl here. I want to taste her delicious beignets I heard so much about from Alaric.”

  “I can make you some at your place. Cyr made it very clear—”

  “I’ll be sure to have her whip you up a batch tomorrow morning. It’s back in the kitch
en for you, Onessa. You’re here to learn, and if you happen to have some ideas, we can try them out there. See what the customers think.”

  “Really?” She beamed.

  “Yeah, really,” Cyr crooned.

  When his voice went soft, her belly felt warm, and her thighs clenched. She was excited, while at the same time a bit hesitant. But she wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to walk with Cyr today or cook with him tomorrow. When he was nice like this, it made her feel good. She wanted him happy all the time.

  “Can you wait for me in the hall? I’m gonna get dressed. I’ll meet you in ten.”

  “You sure you don’t need any help?”

  “I should be okay. I am feeling better today.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right on the other side of this door. You need something, just holler.”

  “Got it.”

  Dressing turned out to be a pain, but she managed. She pulled on a pair of sweats and another Dodger shirt. This one an oldie, but goodie. Paul Laduca, he’d been a catcher for the team back when they were doing big things.

  Onessa met Cyr out in the hall. He stood when her door opened and walked to stand in front of her.

  “We will take it slow this first time,” he whispered. She didn’t know if he meant the walk or something else.

  “Slow is good.”

  THE SILENCE WAS KILLING him but in a good way. He and Una would do the same thing. Walk in the garden his great-grandmother had planted and just...be. It was perfect weather for a walk. There were no rain clouds in the sky, the temperature was optimal, and the humidity nil. He wanted to know if she was planning to stay. It would make things a lot easier if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “Are you—”

  “I’ve decided—”

  Cyr laughed, and Onessa smiled as they both tried speaking first.

  “You go first,” Cyr said, turning towards her. He decided he’d walk backward. That way, he could look at her. Onessa was beyond beautiful, her skin was the perfect blend of her dual heritage. She kept her hair down, the curls—big and thick—bounced as she walked.

  “You go first,” he offered again, trying his best to not be pushy.

  “I was going to say, I’ve decided to stay on. Finish out the mentorship.”

  That was good news.

  “I was going to ask if you planned to leave.”

  She stopped walking. He did, too.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  He could see it on her face, she was upset at the thought of being told she had to go. Relief swept through him. And he realized the truth. This was an opportunity. A chance at a new beginning.

  “No,” he rumbled, his voice thick with desire. “I want you to stay.” An errant curl drifted across her forehead, and Cyr couldn’t stop himself from tugging it before pushing it back behind her ear. He was lost in her eyes. Deep pools of blue and amber regarded him carefully. They darted back and forth between his eyes and lips. Did she want him to kiss her?

  Fuck. It was hard to know. He could smell her desire. It was faint at first, but as they stood there, the scent grew stronger and stronger. He moved closer and fixed his gaze on her mouth. When his intentions were clear, her eyes widened, and Cyr took that as his opening. His mouth descended quickly, capturing hers in a deep kiss. Everything about the woman in his arms beckoned him to take a closer look. To explore the possibility of them. Her body, the way her eyes and her mouth invited him to sample. He pressed the advantage. His hands moved to her hair, anchoring her to him as he feasted on her lips, the taste of her sweet and consuming.

  He didn’t give her a chance to come up for air as he took more from her mouth. Nipping, biting, and sucking his way into a blissful state of madness. She had to feel the hard length of his cock pressed against her thigh, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her hands were roaming underneath his shirt. Her fingers hot and soft at the same time. When she raked her nails gently against his skin, Cyr growled before pulling away.

  “We have to stop,” he said against her lips.

  “Why?” she questioned.

  “Because I don’t want our first time to be out in the open for all to see.”

  She stepped back slowly and give him a half-smile. “Are you saying there may come a time where that could happen?”

  Cyr laughed. It was the first time in a long time he’d let loose. Pulling her into his arms once more, he kissed her on top of her head before saying,” No, unless you’re into that sort of shit.”

  “I’m not, for the record.”

  “Then we need to get back inside. I’ll cook for you tonight. We’ll talk and see what happens from there.”

  She mumbled something into his chest that sounded like a protest. Cyr squeezed her against him and laughed again. He didn’t know what would happen between the two of them, but he was willing to take a chance. Because Alaric was right. He deserved another shot at happiness.

  CYR MADE ENOUGH FOOD to feed an army. Onessa looked at everything on the table and wondered how the heck they were going to eat it all. There was jambalaya, catfish cakes, shrimp and grits, and red beans and rice along with a beef brisket. There was even dessert, a crème brulee that smelled so good it made her mouth water.

  “This all looks amazing, but I’m not going to be able to eat all of this.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll give the rest to the gators.”

  “Serious?”

  “No, I’m joking. You remember Nicole from the other day? You spotted her sons still in panther form hanging out in the tree.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  Now she understood why Alaric didn’t care to call animal control.

  “They’ve fallen on tough times, so I cooked extra, knowing I would be able to send the food over later. This is just a small portion of what was made.”

  “You could have just invited them over, Cyr,” Onessa asserted, her eyes seeking out his to gauge where his head was at.

  “Why would I do that? I want you all to myself.”

  Onessa didn’t know what to say to that; instead, she dug into her meal and savored all the spices and flavors bursting in her mouth. It was why she’d come. To bring this knowledge back and open her own restaurant one day.

  “What’s your mother’s name?” Cyr asked as they munched on catfish cakes.

  “Kamiko Izumi Sol. My father’s name is Devon Williams, but everyone calls him Joker.”

  “What do your parents do for work?”

  “Dad is retired, but works in a garage. My mom is a teacher back home. She throws pottery. What about your parents?”

  “My mother passed away when I was young. I don’t remember much about her, and my father didn’t stick around long enough to know my name.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Cyr, who raised you?”

  “My grandmother, Adelaide.” The way his grandmother’s name rolled off his tongue, she picked up a subtle accent. It was light, but still there.

  “Is that where the cooking came from?”

  “Yeah, she was an amazing cook. I was always in the kitchen with her. Helping any way I could. I’m sure she thought I was more of a nuisance than anything else.” He chuckled to himself then picked up a catfish cake and offered it to her. “Would you eat from my hand?”

  Leaning forward, Onessa reached for the cake, but as she closed the distance between his hand and her mouth, Cyr moved until the cake was all that separated them. When the cake touched her mouth, he moved it quickly, replacing it with his warm lips. The kiss was sweet and tender, making her sigh.

  “What was that for?” she asked against his lips.

  “No reason, just felt like kissing you. Now eat up.” Cyr took a huge bite of his shrimp and grits and smiled over at her when she did the same.

  They ate in comfortable silence, and when the table had been cleared and all the food packed up, Cyr approached her slowly. His walk hypnotizing. Muscles bunched and stretched much like that of a panther. The way he carried himself.
His gait was precise, his movements sensual. Everything about him screamed predator.

  Standing in front of her, Cyr murmured, “I’m going to kiss you now, and after that, I plan to lose myself in you. All fucking night long.”

  Oh, shit.

  Cyr cradled her face, his eyes searching hers. He was scared. Uncertainty, and doubt clouded his vision but Onessa didn’t understand why. The air around her was humming with electricity, and the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end as she waited for their lips to meet. The kiss was slow, deliberate. Each tug on her lips and suck on her tongue was heaven. He inhaled, she exhaled, and together they created an embrace that defied all others. Deep, meaningful kisses that searched until they found the very heart of her core. Her body was a live wire, and Cyr was the spark.

  Onessa didn’t know there were kisses out there like the one she experienced in Cyr’s arms. But she hoped and prayed that she’d only have them with him. There were so many reasons why kissing him was a bad idea, but as the kiss continued, all her objections were tossed out the window. Cyr wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Her body heated at their contact, and when she sighed, he growled. It was a real, authentic beastly sound that only made her insides quiver more. Never in all her life had she imagined a world where fantasy clashed with reality.

  Cyr tore his lips away, giving her a chance to catch her breath. His gaze was dark, the rush of hot air as it fanned over her face as he tried to control himself. He was just as turned on as she was, and the evidence was thick and heavy against her inner thigh.

  “If you don’t want this, say something now. Once I get started, I’m not going to be able to stop.”

  “I want this,” she said, and to prove her point, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. Cyr lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist while his free arm slid down until his hand was firmly planted on her ass. He walked them into a wall at first, and they almost knocked over a vase.

  “Careful,” he whispered against her lips.

  “That was you, not me. I’m not the one walking.”

  “Right.”

  They continued their journey down the hall into the guest room she’d originally been staying in, and with the ease of a man used to doing things his way, Cyr positioned her on the bed.