 
## Cajun Queen and the Joker

A Tulsa Immortals Novella

Copyright January 2017 © Audra Hart

First Edit by Avril Stepowski

Cover Art by Audra Hart

2nd Edition (Re-named & Expanded version \- includes new scenes, other minor rewrites & new edits for content and grammar.)

Originally published October 2016 as "Joker's Trick or Treat" © Audra Hart, as part of the Shifters Hallows Eve anthology.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Cajun Queen and the Joker is Book One of the Tulsa Immortals multi-author series. You can find them all by visiting Audra Hart's website at https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/

Cajun Queen and the Joker by Audra Hart - Things are getting STEAMY for the TULSA IMMORTALS when the sexy lil' Cajun Queen who broke Joker's heart over a century ago shows up in Tulsa with trouble hot on her heels, will it spell disaster for the Twin Ravens MC or a second chance for these star-crossed lovers? https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/cajun-queen-joker/

Gin & Wrath by Audra Hart – If you enjoy a hint of kink with your romance, you've got to check out Gin & Wrath. Born of magick, Wrath is a dedicated Immortal Enforcer at the Twin Ravens MC. He keeps his inner monster at bay with carefully controlled violence, sex, and utter domination... Until sweet Virginia shows up at the MC, a target of the supernatural underworld. Her first encounter with the ageless Viking binds them together in a magickal connection that won't be denied! Can a savage and sadistic demi-god seduce a sweet, young virgin, and defeat her deadly enemies at the same time? Gin & Wrath is a very sexy M/F paranormal adventure that features an innocent human female and a jaded demi-god with sadistic tendencies. https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/gin-wrath/

Leo's Salvation by AM Halford – Are you a fan of sexy M/M paranormal romance? Then do yourself a favor and check out AM Halford's first installment in the Tulsa Immortals universe. This story features a cagey warlock, a grumalicious berserker bear shifter and salamander familiar that will leave you in stitches

Darkheart's Valentine by Audra Hart – this installment of the Tulsa Immortals is fairly PG version of Silas & Tina's story that I wrote to help a group of authors raise money for St. Jude's. You will find Darkheart's Valentine in the Claiming My Valentine anthology. To support this project, visit Audra Hart's website: https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/darkhearts-valentine/

Coyote's River by AM Halford – Discover more exciting M/M romance in AM Halford's second installment of the Tulsa Immortals series. River has been on his own since the day he was born and he has learned to distrust everyone while struggling to understand his abilities as untrained warlock. Coyote is a good natured, overprotective shifter who serves as an enforcer with the Twin Ravens MC. When River's past returns to Tulsa determined to use him for evil can these fated lovers overcome their issues and defeat these deadly foes? https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/coyotes-river/

Devlin's Desire by Elaine Barris – For those readers who adore a very naughty vampire adventure, Elaine Barris has joined the Tulsa Immortals family with her exciting cross-over tale. Devlin Wick fell in love, and tried to shield her from the realities of his supernatural existence. But now an evil Stone Cold vampire in the service of a corrupt goddess has Devlin's sweet Jolie. Now this swaggering vampire with a checkered past is desperate. He's willing to swallow his pride and beg for help on bended knee, if necessary, to save his one true love, Jolie! Devlin appeals to the Twin Ravens MC for help, but their hands are tied by United Council of Immortals. In desperation, he turns to his own kind and attends The Decrees to get help. This is an action packed tale where we meet exciting cross-over characters from the universe of the Flames of Vampire Passion series and the Master for Tonight books. In short, it's a bunch of bad-ass vamps, a sweet human captive in need of rescuing, and one crazy magickal dude who thinks he's the prophet Elijah. FUN STUFF

Additional works coming soon to this exciting series from Audra Hart, AM Halford, Elaine Barris and Candi Fox. Connect with all of the authors in this exciting series on Facebook at our Tulsa Immortals FB Page: https://www.facebook.com/TulsaImmortalsMagickalUniverse/

Discover the entire magickal universe of Audra Hart's sensual, supernatural romantic thrillers on her website: https://audrahart.com/

### Blurb for Cajun Queen and the Joker

Joker is a rough-edged, hard-drinking, Harley-riding protector who harbors a broken heart and a dark secret. He's a blood-wolf, a man whose soul is eternally bonded to a blood demon and a feral wolf. Dark magick evoked to save his life has left Joker a man who must feed upon blood to satiate his primal cravings, and take the form of a deadly wolf. In 1872 this dark secret caused the only woman he's ever loved to reject him for being a demon-tainted abomination. Can a man so cruelly rejected by his one true love ever find peace?

This year, the woman who shattered Joker's world with her terrified denunciation, returns to his life... needing his help. Jenniene knows she overreacted upon learning her beloved's true nature. Her own dark secrets and the judgmental teachings of others led her to believe any stain by demon or beast irrevocably taints the soul. Time and necessity have taught Jenniene everything dark isn't always evil. But is this acceptance too little, too late?

True EVIL stalks Tulsa and an innocent child, that Jenniene has sworn to protect. Now the Immortal Enforcers of the Twin Ravens MC are scrambling to guard their secrets, while keeping the human realm safe. But, Joker's battles are much more personal. How is his beloved little Cajun Queen still alive, and does she have room in her heart for the man she deemed an abomination?

DEDICATION:

To my readers...Thank you for downloading my books! Without you, I might as well go back to filling up countless composition notebooks and tucking them away to collect dust. You guys are the BEST, and I am so grateful that I have found a receptive audience via e-publishing to vent my overactive and somewhat naughty imagination on. THANK YOU!

To my three amazing sons, who give me a reason to rise and shine. I am truly blessed among mothers.

To my A-Team! The best damn team of beta readers and pimpin' queens anywhere! I would not have been able to finish this book without your support and input. You gals are the best! My sincere gratitude & big HUGS go out to Fluffy, Zen, Electra, Genie, April, Annie, Rhonda and Mardi!

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

This story was originally released as Joker's Trick or Treat, as part of the Shifters Hallows project in October 2016. While I fell in love with Joker and Jenniene's story, I felt it needed a bit more depth, so I set out to fill in the gaps of their heart-breaking history before re-releasing this second edition. Knowing what Zeke and Jenniene have endured before only sweetens the tale when these two fascinating beings finally find their happily ever after. This expanded second edition has new scenes, some minor rewrites and new edits. Thank you for downloading Cajun Queen & Joker! I hope you come to love these two colorful characters as much as I do.

HAPPY READING! – Audra Hart
PROLOGUE

Deschamps Plantation, French Louisiana

All Hallows Eve - 1789

Images of a fiery Hell and the well-earned punishment which likely await me once I get there fill my mind. I blink in a vain attempt to clear the blood from my swollen eyes so that I can see my mother's face. Po', sweet Maman. My broken heart clutches painfully in my chest. I din' mean to put yet another burden on Maman's po' ole shoulders. A shuddering sigh rattles my whipped and battered body, but I have ta stand tall, and be a man till the end... for my Maman.

Collecting all my fading strength, I try to send her a smile to assure her I have accepted my fate and would do it again. I'd do anythin' to protect the woman who gave me life and taught me the true value of love, honor and family. I've seen my Maman struggle under the overseer's cruelty my entire life... Jes once, I wanna see her stand tall and proud, like the good Lord meant her to be. I long to see her smile... jes one more time. But I 'spect murders don' deserve such mercy. Not even those who murder evil over-seers.

An eerie silence falls over everyone gathered in front of the white master's fancy big-house when the new overseer slips the hangman's noose over my head. The rough hemp causes the whip marks on the back of my head and neck to burn like hell-fire, but I refuse to utter a sound. I won' let 'em know that I'm done for. My pride and defiance are all I have left. I refuse to give them the satisfaction of knowing they have broken my body and my spirit.

The ugly white man who has taken over for the dead over-seer sneers into my face as he tightens the noose painfully around my neck. A hateful act of retribution by a weak and no-account petty man who eagerly seeks to gain power at the expense of others. Yeah, dis one is cut from the same cloth as the dead man. Deep in my cold heart I know killing the old over-seer did nothing to fix the troubles facin' my people.

If I had enough strength left in my body, I would laugh when he screams like a little girl before stumbling away to trip over his own feet when I snarl at him through my bloodied lips. Quiet sounds of amusement can be heard among the assembled slaves and I see shame flash across the white man's craven features. But he don' stay shamefaced for long. Once he gathers himself, the little bastard slaps me across the face and calls me every kind of cur dog and bastard in the book. My body screams out in protest when the new boss calls over a couple strong bucks to lift my battered body up onto the back of one of the old plow horses.

I don't take my eyes off the new Boss. My broken fists clench with my desire to beat this one to death as well. Somehow, I find the strength to utter a heart-felt threat; "If'n you carry on the same way as the dead man, my ghost will come back and take care of you too, Boss." The word boss sounds like the curse it was meant to be. I wanna throw my head back and roar my laughter when the weak-ass white boy takes a step back as though he's afeared I'm bout to leap off this mare to beat him too.

I gots so much rage in my heart for dem dat abuse folks weaker, that I think I could easily kill every overseer in the entire Louisiana Territory, given the chance. But my moment of dealin' rightful retribution was sadly all too brief... like a rare free moment to enjoy the beauty of a sunrise, here one moment and gone the next.

If there do be a God up 'n heaven like my Maman believes, I wonder if he gots any mercy for a killer like me. That's what I is now... a cold-blooded killer. The good Lord knows I would do the same thing all over agin. When I saw that filthy overseer putting his paws on my precious Maman, I lost my mind. That piece of shit don' been beatin' and rapin' my po' ole Maman since she was a young'un. In fact, it was his foul seed that grew in my Maman's belly to make me. I chuckle weakly. It only seems fittin' the one he brought into the world is the one who took him out.

The Master, Monsieur Deschamps, is speakin' now. Lying bout what fine man his henchman was and how he didn't deserve the painful death I gave him. I chuckle again. Every livin' soul gathered here, and likely a few ghosts of some that's done passed on, knows that to be a lie from the depths of Hell. The overseer and his master alike have no milk of human kindness or true decency in their souls. If they did, my people wouldn't live their lives in chains, slaving to grow cotton and tobacco for some rich white man and his spoilt chil'rens. No sir-eee, all lies. What I done was wrong, but it wouldn't been necessary if'n evil didn't have a home on this plantation.

Ignoring the warnin's of punishment if'n anyone else decides to follow in my footsteps, I manage a smile for my Maman. She mouths; "This ain't the end." I'm wonderin' just what she means when the Master brings his riding crop down on the shanks of the old mare, making her bolt for the barn. The rough hemp of the hangman's noose drags me from the mare's back, and snaps my neck afore I can take another breath. Every muscle, sinew and tendon in my beaten body writhes as death claims my mortal existence...

* * * * *

Sunrise is illuminating the bayou when I open my eyes again. I'm gawpin' in wonderment that Hell really is a Louisiana swamp, when I feel gentle hands caress my neck and shoulders. "Easy, boy. You gots a new body... for now." I struggle to rise on shaky limbs, but fall back to the ground in an ungainly heap when I realize I was standing on four legs and paws instead of the two legs and feet I expected. "Zeke, I is so sorry, bébé. Dis was the only way I could think to save your life." Her gnarled fingers continue to stroke my... fur as she softly confesses what she did. "All dis All Hallows Eve magick was jes' a floatin' around in the air for the takin'." I hear Maman swallow hard, and her heart rate picks up. "There'll be a price to pay. The good Lord knows there is always a price to pay."

I look up at Maman to see fear, joy, and uncertainty on her suffering ravaged face. At one time, she was a true beauty. Even now, the proof of her youthful perfection is there to behold. But more important than her beauty, I can see her true depth of character, the regal grace, and stately presence that sufferin' and a life of hard labor cannot erase. In another time and place, my Maman could have been a queen. A true and wise leader of men and women. But such was not to be her fate.

Maman's tone is sharp, yet filled with sorrow when her next words cut through my daydreams. "I worked some blood magick wid a feral wolf and blood demon. You died, Zeke, but the magick I worked don' brought you back. It come at a cost, but was worth it to my way of thinkin'."

I struggle to my feet again. I'm fully intending to run off into the swamp to avoid hearing the truth. I don' wanna hear bout no blood magick and payin' the price. Hell, I thought I was paying the price when that hangman's noose snapped my neck and choked the very life outta my body.

"Sit your butt down, boy!" Maman never has let me get by with ignorin' her speechifying, and looks like I still gotta heed her in my afterlife. "Zeke, for now you'll have to take to four legs to be safe, but the day will come when you can walk proudly on two legs like the man you were born to be, hear me?" I nod my furry head and hope like hell she plans to explain things a bit a better. Suddenly, I wanna hear more about walkin' around on two legs. I want to be the man I was meant to be.
CHAPTER ONE

JOKER

The sexy new waitress delivers another round of shots, ripping me from my reverie. I know better than dwelling on the past, but that's all I ever seem to do this time of the year. I chuckle derisively. "Well, dwell on the past and get piss-drunk." I look around and frown at my surroundings. The MC's clubhouse is raucous with the loud bass beat of the dance music, and rowdy celebrants calling out to the strippers on stage, or striving to be heard over the ruckus to speak with their fellow partiers. The obnoxious music is thrumming through my entire body and has my heightened senses bordering on overload. I begin peeling the label from my beer bottle in a vain effort to distract myself from the noise.

Most of the assholes in the place are focusing on the strippers or the possibility of an easy lay, but my thoughts are on my past, on her. The One. Old memories are weighing heavily on me tonight, just as they always do when All Hallows approaches. Damn! I hate this time of year. And yet, this year is different somehow... We are all – watchful and wary. Even more than normal. Somethin' big is a comin'... A tense air of expectation pervades the very atmosphere and mood of the entire clubhouse. For once, I am not the only Immortal Enforcer who is dreading All Hallows Eve. I can see it in the faces of my fellow protectors, feel it in the very air we breathe. And yet, I am the only sad-sack who is wallowing in my ancient misery.

The sense of melancholy which pervades my mood is likely obvious to every Immortal in the joint, but the mundanes probably just think I am an asshole. I chuckle a bit, because they wouldn't be too far off the mark with that assessment. I am a bit of an asshole. They call me Joker around the MC because I flirt, joke, and tease all the time. I carry on as though I haven't a care in the world. But it's all an act. I'm anything but open and light-hearted. My jovial façade is supposed to keep everyone at arm's length, to keep them from looking any deeper than what I am willing to show the world. I wear my smile and my smart-ass attitude like a shield to keep everyone out of my fuckin' business. Well, not everyone.

My brethren – my fellow Immortal Enforcers – and I, make up the Twin Ravens outlaw MC. The true role of the MC is protecting mortals from powerful rogues. Some of my brethren know my story and are more tolerant of my bullshit because of the knowledge. Still others, younger enforcers or those who have yet to know true loss and sorrow, just see me as a joke quipping, hard-drinking asshole. Honestly, I couldn't care less what they think. They'll learn, more n' likely the hard way, that there's always more goin' on than meets the eye.

I squirm uncomfortably and drain my beer. This is a dangerous time of the year, because the veil between the realms is always thinnest on All Hallows Eve. And despite my annual All Hallows pity party, I will do my job and help keep the mortal realm safe. It's what we do and I am proud to be a part of this group. This rag-tag band of Immortal Enforcers are closer to me than anyone has been since shortly after the end of The War.

That thought brings a dry chuckle to my lips. Many wars have come and gone since the war between the North and the South, but my southern roots are showing tonight. To everyone from the Deep South, especially round New Orleans where I am from, the American Civil War will always be known as The War.

I absently reach up and tug on my earlobe in a futile attempt to lessen the almost painful irritation caused by the loathsome music blasting from the club's sound system, as I survey the crowd and the clubhouse with a jaundiced eye. My expression is likely marred by a belligerent sneer, as I glare balefully at all the over the top Halloween decorations displayed throughout the public part of the clubhouse. Even the waitresses and dancers working the club in their barely-there, sexy-as-hell costumes do nothing to improve my mood.

Mortals and their blithe disregard for the seriousness and ever present danger of this time of year always irritates and confounds me. I wonder why Tara allows the glittery bats, caldrons, and jack o' lanterns to decorate her domain. But considering where and who we are, it does make an odd, ironic sense. The modern retail dream version of Halloween and the stark reality of the power this place possesses and defends, especially during All Hallows Eve, is truly a surreal juxtaposition of dreamlike fantasy and nightmarish reality. I look around at the humans in the club tonight and snort my disbelief. These mundanes are fucking clueless.

Irritating techno music begins to pound through the clubhouse as a new trio of strippers hit the small stages to begin flaunting their money-making assets. Any other time of the year, I'd be watching them. Enjoying the sex magick such places create, but not tonight. Tonight, the dancers flaunting their bodies as they incite lust and carnal longing in their audience for profit doesn't even remotely appeal to me. Another tug on my ear lobe does nothing to sooth my irritation and my thoughts turn increasingly negative.

Gods, I hate this shit! I need another fuckin' shot.

I warily watch a group of weekend wannabes while they harass a waitress in another section. I've just about decided I need to step in help out the pretty little human waitress when I realize I won't be needed. I can't help but smile when Rage, the club's VP, casually strides over and sets those assholes straight. I'm chuckling over the power that man expertly wields when it comes to looking out for club business. He may be human, but that male has got his shit together. This place, this influx of raw magick from the thinning veil should have this joint on Def Con lock down protocols, but my fellow paranorms have got it under control.

Shaking my head, I realize it is truly amazing what a man, or rather wolf, can force himself to get used to. But hells bells, it just ain't natural for my kind to surround ourselves with so many "others" and humans in one enclosed space. The noise, the odors... it can all be a bit overwhelming. I snort my frustration at my own folly because I know I'm suffering due to my own bad choices, and inability to just let the stupid past go. If I had a lick of sense, I'd get the hell out of here to seek my personal oblivion in some semblance of privacy and safety. But I'm too damn hard-headed for that, or maybe I just need to feel like I am part of something... anything... besides my own misery.

Yeah, maybe. Who the hell knows why I do the stupid shit I do? But it's damn hard to be around so many beating hearts, especially when it's been a while since my last feeding. My lip involuntarily curls up in a sneer at my dumbass habit of ignoring my very real needs for blood and sex until the last possible moment. I hate that side of myself, and always put off taking blood till I'm nearly desperate. I can't help but shake my head ruefully. Sometimes, I'm a truly dumb sumbitch and put that shit off way too long, endangering me and any mortals stupid enough to be around a loose cannon like myself.

I raise my beer bottle to my mouth, only to realize it's empty, again. With a wicked spate of foul language, I set the empty on the table top before dragging my hands over my shorn head. Making a mental note that it's time to shave again. I haven't let my hair grow out like since...

Gods! my fuckin' head is all over the place tonight. Get your shit together, Joker!

Beating myself up isn't helping, so I decide to anesthetize myself with more hooch. Intending to find that sexy new waitress, I look up to find that Tank, the burly Immortal bouncer assigned to the new girls' section, is watching me speculatively. Knowing I'm on that wise old fucker's radar makes me anxious, so I give the empty beer bottle a spin on the table top, like I ain't got a care in the world. Tank and me both know it's pure-dee bullshit.

Tank is a bear shifter and a damned good male. I'm proud to call him friend, but I can do without his all-seeing gaze on me tonight. That ancient árktos, Greek bear shifter, never misses a thing. He always knows when something is wrong with one of his brothers, and we don't call him Fuckin' Dr. Phil for nuthin'. The male has a way of making us all talk about shit we'd rather leave buried.

I toss him chin, and deliberately seek out the new waitress for another beer and a couple of shots... Maybe a little something extra? "Where dat pretty lil' dawlin' gots off to now?" I mumble, a bit drunkenly. I'm chagrined to hear the Cajun patois in my words. But it always comes out when I'm doing some serious drinking or pissed off. Tonight, I am both.

Thoughts of the sexy new waitress quickly stir my thirst for blood and my animal need for sex. The gal in question is young, and seems genuinely nice. After watching her serve drinks to these rowdy jackasses tonight, I've realized she is also so very sweet, and so very innocent. Hell, I can smell the fuckin' innocence on that petit joli. Virginal... untasted, in more ways than one. I feel my fangs elongate and I growl my frustration at my lack of control this time of the year. This year is the worst yet, and I hate myself for lettin' my brethren down this way. I better get my shit under control. We have real enemies to watch out for instead of my making my fellow enforcers watch me for signs that I'm gonna go rogue cuz I can't deal with my past.

Don't be a pussy, you asshole. Git your act together or Wrath will put you down like a rabid dog. Reminding myself of the thin line I've been walkin' lately quells my animal lust and my unnatural lust for blood – somewhat. But I seriously can't stop watching the new waitress. All the supes in the joint are drawn to her, maybe because it's her first night slinging drinks here at the MC clubhouse, or maybe it's something else. Who knows? But there's no doubt that watching the sexy lil' gal is entertainin' as hell. Apparently, in honor of Halloween approaching, she's dressed up like some kid playin' Cowboys and Indians. Tight tank top that shows off the luscious tits, short cut-offs, and cowboy boots. The clothes and boots seem natural for her, so I'm guessing she's a country gal. But the kid's cowboy hat, perched on her head at a jaunty angle and tied under her chin so it will stay in place while she works her ass off in the club, and the toy six-shooters on her hips, are purely for show. A cute costume on a cute kid.

Lickin' my lips in anticipation, I can't help but think she'd certainly be a tasty morsel. I'd like to bury myself balls deep in that tight, wet pussy, while I sink my fangs in her neck. I tease the sharp tip of a fang with my tongue, even while I remind myself she's not for me. Giving my head a shake to clear the fog of lust, I remind myself that the sexy new waitress is an uninitiated mundane, and therefore, she's completely off limits.

"Yeah, off limits," I remind myself out loud. But I can still savor her scent and flirt shamelessly with her as she does her job. Mostly, I just wanna watch those pretty tits as they try to push their way out of her tight tank top. I know she's an innocent, but she also knows sex sells. While she ain't really offering anything but a look at them purty titties, I can't help but think of doing more than looking. Thoughts of burying my face between those huge breasts, sinking my fangs into that tender flesh to feed on her virginal blood makes my cock hard, and awakens my demon side. My eyes are probably glowing red, revealing my want... my need, for blood and sex.

Reflexively, I close my eyes for a moment to get the sign of the devil under control. After a moment or two, I look down at the beer bottle and play with what's left of the label. My innate survival instincts are kicking in without conscious thought. Blood don't tolerate us revealing our true selves to the mundanes, not even here at the MC with all the witchy magick that makes our customers forget what goes on here. Outing what we are to the humans is just askin' for it.

Merde! I gotta get these lustful feelings outta my head before I lose my shit. Those are dangerous thoughts. Allowing myself to think about that girl's blood and body will only lead to me doing something incredibly stupid that will cause me to end up very dead. Really dead. The permanent kind. Not the fake kind I endured back in 1789, when my Maman worked some mojo on me to save me from the hangman's noose for killing that sadistic overseer.

I reach down to rearrange my engorged cock to a less constricting position. Day-um, that purty lil' waitress is an abso-fuckin'-lutely gorgeous woman with those flashing sapphire blue eyes, wispy black hair and voluptuous figure. Any man, Immortal or not, could easily lose himself between those lusciously big tits, round hips, and bodacious ass. I sigh softly, knowing pursuing the girl would be folly of the worst kind.

Too fuckin' bad for me and every other swingin' dick here at the MC that the big Viking already has his sights set on her. That thought makes my eyes automatically seek out the male. And it's pretty fucking easy to find him. Wrath, a massive Norse demi-god, is hanging out in the back near the pool tables. But his attention isn't on a game or even the strippers. Nope. Wrath is watching the new waitress, and I can't help but smirk.

"He's got it even worse 'n me for dat gal." I hear my slave roots in my speech and shake my head to clear it. Mayhap, I have already had enough to drink? It takes a hella lot of booze to make any Immortal drunk, but I've been hitting Tara's hard stuff about four hours already. Yep, I'm probably well on my way to gettin' drunker 'n a skunk. That's not smart, considering how reckless I get this time of the year, but it ain't stopping me from looking for the waitress to order more alcohol. "Heh, heh, never said I was smart, now did I?"

Before I can catch the new waitress's eye, Tara, my fellow enforcer and the club's master barkeep shows up with a fresh beer and three shots of the rum I prefer on her tray. I look up appreciatively at the sexy little badass vampire. "Merci, mon ami." I flash her my wolf-like grin, which makes a whole lotta women want to drop their panties and all their inhibitions. Tara just raises an amused eyebrow at me. A move which clearly tells me she still isn't impressed with my avoir beaucoup de beauté. Oh well, her loss if she don' fancy my charmin' ways, I tell myself with all the fake bluster I can dredge up. Despite my tendency to flirt shamelessly with Tara, I'd never really pursue anything with the sexy vampire witch. She's my friend, one of the best I got. And friends don' fuck friends, if they's smart.

"Stow it Blood-Wolf. Your charm doesn't work on me, and you know it." I can hear the amusement in her voice. I should be relieved my bullshit attempt at flirting didn't piss the gal off, but I just shrug a shoulder as though to say; "Okay." She smirks playfully at me, and I am reminded once again that the little badass enforcer has a fun side. An aspect of her personality she doesn't allow too many people to see. I count myself lucky to be one of her friends.

But her mood quickly turns serious. "You planning on getting pissed-ass drunk and staying that way for the next four days, Joker?"

I nod wordlessly and look down at the shots she's lining up in front of me. I reflexively lick my lips, anticipating the sting of the high proof rum. Honestly, I'm not sure why my know it all friend is even asking questions when she already knows the fuckin' answers. I've been with the Twin Ravens since 1921 and this is not new behavior for me. Every year around All Hallows Eve I go a bit crazy and truly earn my nickname. Every fucking year I swim in the hooch for days on end, and then emerge on the other side, to pretend I didn't just spend nearly a full week suspended in an alcoholic haze trying to run from my past.

In a rare tender move, Tara reaches down and cups my face with a wry smile on her lips. "I'm so tired of watching you do this to yourself year after year." Her tone turns harsh when she says; "We have our hands full this time of year because the veil between the realms is so damned thin, and every Immortal with a fucking World Domination Complex wants to take over the mortal realm. We have work to do, Joker. We need you at fighting strength." I murmur something about never lettin' the MC down, but I can tell Tara is genuinely worried. "Zeke, you are better than this."

I inwardly flinch at her use of my real name. I've been known as Joker since I joined this MC nearly a century ago. "It breaks my heart, brother, to watch you do this to yourself every All Hallows over some long dead mortal female who was just too stupid or scared to accept the gift she'd been given the day she met you." She smiles sadly and says; "Brother, you gotta let this go. Let her go. She's been worm food for over a century. Move on with your life."

I reach up, intending to yank her hand from my face, but instead I clasp her fine boned wrist in my massive paw that passes for a hand. Instead of the smart-assed retort I had planned to let loose, the unvarnished truth comes spilling from my lips. "My pretty lil' vampire sister, she was The One. My fated. I'm sure of it. Just moving on with my life ain't even an option." I quickly drain the shot glasses with an appreciative hiss at the burn, and welcome the fog of the alcoholic haze.

Tara silently assesses me with wise eyes and eventually nods. "Yeah, she probably was the one or else your wolf and demon souls would have dragged your human thinking from the woman long ago." She smiles sadly and commiserates; "You aren't the first to lose your fated, Joker." I flinch because I know she's speaking from experience. "And unfortunately, you won't be the last. As bad as that sucks ass, you can still find a measure of happiness."

She casts a dark look at the empty shot glasses she had just set before me. "You won't find peace in a bottle of my 190 proof rum." Despite the seriousness of her words and the moment, I can still hear the pride in her voice over the Immortal strength hooch she distills for her brethren, boosting the alcohol content with a bit of magic.

I only nod. What the fuck can I say to that? I know I am being a pansy-ass. It's the same thing every fucking year. Summer ends, and I turn into a woe-is-me asshole who spends his time getting drunk and wallowing in regrets and what-ifs. This is so not who I am meant to be. Not who I ever thought I would become. But it's my reality... for now.

Tara nods. Obviously, she knows I'm not gonna pull myself up by my boot straps tonight; probably not any night in the immediate future. Her thumb caresses my full bottom lip, and I can feel the pressure against my extended fang. Obviously, the sexy lil' vamp can feel it, too. "You need to feed, my brother," she says in a gently chiding tone. I can see the genuine concern in my friend's gaze. For those of us who need blood to survive, going without can have dangerous consequences. "Go feed and fuck a live woman. Forget about the dead human girl." Her words carry no judgment, just honest advice. After a heartbeat, she smirks playfully at me and says; "Do it before I tell Blood you volunteered to patrol the trick or treaters this year."

I groan loudly at the thought. Only the lowest ranking members or assholes who broke one of Blood's few rules get stuck with trick or treat duty on Halloween. It's certainly not a task I would willingly volunteer for. Tara's expression and tone are once again serious when she says; "Go upstairs, Joker. Feed. Fuck. Sleep." Her matter of fact tone makes me smirk. Tara is a witch who was turned into a vamp against her will a long time ago. She's well aware of my needs, and makes no bones about the importance of meeting those needs. She casts a quick glance toward the stairs that lead to the private floors of the MC. "Glory is off tonight, but she's in her room."

I shrug. It's really very solid advice, and not something I am averse to doing. I like Glory. A lot, in fact. She's an Immortal, I just ain't sure what kind. She hangs around the MC masquerading as a human club girl, but it's plain as the big-assed nose on my ugly face that she's hiding out from someone, and has the Twin Ravens' protection. Glory is a beautiful and willing female, whose powerful blood keeps my demon side satisfied for weeks at a time. But she's not who I want tonight. No, tonight I am hankerin' for a certain female from my past. A raven-haired vixen in a cowboy get up struts by and distracts me. But then again, that new waitress just might do in her stead. She smells almost as sweet as my own lost love.

I guess I must have been caught casting my eye at the waitress in question or the vamp was reading my thoughts, because Tara laughs heartily before rebuking me like a foolish youth. "You aren't that stupid, wolf-boy. Not even approaching Samhain." Tara gifts me with another chaste caress on my cheek causing me to drag my eyes back to her lovely face. Her gentle smile softens her warning... but not much. The message is still plain. "I know you saw Wrath watching that one." I nod. "Zeke, I know you are hurting right now, brother, but you really don't wanna end up on his bad side. That beast never, ever, forgets."

I suppress an involuntary shudder when I think about Wrath when he's really fired up. That male came by his name honestly. He is the very embodiment of wrath. I'm about to nod my agreement, and make my way upstairs to find Glory when a couple of my brethren, Writhe and Coyote, sit at my table, and ask Tara for a round of beers. These fools might provide enough distraction to keep me out of trouble for a bit. I chuckle my wry amusement as I watch my idiot friends jostle for room on the padded bench seat like a set of squabbling, filthy mouthed children.

Maybe. Maybe not. It's also just as likely they will help me find some even more serious trouble to get into. My truly stupid side chides in; What the fuck? Why not hang with the brothers? So, like the dumbass I am, I just greet them with a shit-eatin' grin. I settle in to listen to their lies and stupid stories just to pass the time. 
CHAPTER TWO

JOKER

"Splat! That fucker missed me by a mile, but got the asshole that was coming up behind me," Coyote laughs raucously. Whenever you hear the male laugh, you have no doubt how he got his nickname. Well, that and the fact that he's a true trickster and a coyote shifter of Navajo descent. He is animatedly relating how a semi-truck nearly wiped him out during a recent protection run. Our MC engages in just enough mundane illegal activity to keep our cover as an outlaw MC. Magic and the true deadly nature of our members keep the mortal MCs out of our territory, and protect the Tulsa area to some extent. Despite my dark mood, Coyote's stories about club runs and his wild antics on his Harley are always entertaining as hell.

I smile like a fool when the purty waitress who has been tempting me all night delivers another round of beers and shots to our table. She regards my companions carefully as she sets our drinks in front of us. I can tell that Writhe makes her uncomfortable, and I realize the chit has good instincts, for a mundane. Brother Writhe is a Ghoul who has been riding the edge for years now. I know the leaders of our little band of enforcers have been watching the male closely for some time. I guess they expect him to go rogue at any moment. I sure as hell hope not, because I really like the ugly bastard, but honestly I wouldn't be surprised. Writhe has some serious skeletons in his closet.

Perhaps literally, considerin' what Ghouls consider haute cuisine. I barely suppress a shudder of revulsion. Despite my own thirst for human blood, the thought of eating human flesh sickens me. Again, I hope Writhe is keeping his shit together and following the rules. Ghouls in the mortal realm are supposed to subsist on animal flesh, and rarely, the flesh of deceased humans. But many whisper their meals taste best, and imbue their beings with more magick, when eaten from the bones of a living victim.

With a shudder of disgust, I push those dark thoughts away to focus on the waitress and my friends. I pour on my "Creole Charm" to flirt a bit with the pretty young gal. Normally, this routine would be my warm up act for getting into her panties and feeding from her blood. But that's not gonna happen with this lil' gal. I want her, make no mistake 'bout that, but I am smart enough to know she's off limits.

Sadly, it seems that not all of my MC brethren have gotten the message. Writhe pats her luscious backside before giving it a hard squeeze, and asks her if she wants to ride him. I open my mouth to warn my brother off, but before I can get the words out of my mouth, the big Norse wolf is standing behind the girl, giving us a look that plainly says; "Back. The. Fuck. Off."

Writhe withdraws his hand so fast you'd think the gal's ass was on fire. His look of shock plainly reveals he had not been paying attention tonight. A brother would have to be truly oblivious not to have noticed that Wrath was watching the human female from the moment she walked through the door. Hell, he even followed her outside when she went on her break.

I nod at the big male to acknowledge his claim and protection of the human female, as I suppress another chuckle over Writhe's reaction. Yep, Tara saved me an ass whoopin' fo sho. I am startled to realize I had actually been dumb enough to have considered feeding from the female for even a moment. "This shit is really screwin' wid me," I mutter under my breath.

The waitress seems to sense Wrath's presence behind her. But the male moves too fast. When the gal turns to check, all she sees is the Viking muther-fucker's back as he strides away through a crowd of drunken bikers and their women. I suppress a chuckle because watching this thing between the Norse wolf and this purty lil' mundane waitress unfold is gonna be highly entertainin'. I'm still smiling as I down the other two shots of rum before sippin' on my beer again.

To kick off the bullshit fest with my brothers, I relate the story about this one time I chased off some gator hunters down in the Bayou while I was in wolf form. I know this will keep Writhe, Coyote, and me out of trouble for a while. We can spend hours exchanging stupid stories and outrageous lies. It's part of the reason why the MC brethren dubbed me Joker. I'm damned good at distracting folks with my antics and colorful tales.

****

Closing time for the public part of the MC's clubhouse is fast approaching, and the bar is nearly empty. The magick of the place always kicks in just before closing time, making the mundane customers suddenly realize they want to be somewhere else... anywhere else but here. Despite that, they are always ready to come back the next night, completely forgetting their intense need to leave the night before. I chuckle, it's good for business and makes closing time a snap.

I'm preoccupied thinking about Tara's magick on the club, but I can't help the genuine smile of pleasure when Susie, one of my favorite club sweet-butts, saunters up to our table. I like this gal, I always have. Tonight, I can smell her arousal wafting on the air like some kind of ambrosia luring in a bunch of horny paranorms. The pretty little submissive human female is needful tonight, and I almost envy the male lucky enough to get her attention.

Susie has her own demons which haunt her, hell, we all do. But her specters drive her to seek physical domination, subjugation, and sometimes a steep level of humiliation, along with her sex. Hey, we all got our kinky needs and wants around this place. Whatever her story might be, she's smart and sexy, as well as a skillful, generous, and truly carnal lover. And sweet Susie knows she's always safe among the Twin Ravens brethren. Most of us will eagerly take the pleasure she's offerin', but make damn sure to give her what she needs, and keep her safe in the process. I watch as she flirts a bit with all three of us, but her attention is fully on me. Obviously, I am the male of her choice... tonight.

Honestly, I am relieved. Not just because I know I'll get a damned good time from the female, I also worry that Writhe, or even Coyote, might go too far. When a female is willing to submit like that to a male, to truly surrender all control, the male of her choice has an obligation to protect her and not let things go too far. Having a bit of a kink, or peculiar needs, doesn't lessen a person's value, and I'm not too certain my two drinking buddies truly realize that. I almost break out into drunken guffaws because honestly, I just realized that I am not even certain ol' Coyote normally swings that way. Susie's beguiling feminine charms maybe entirely lost on the male.

I am distracted from my musings when the female in question trails a pale hand down my arm. Without conscious thought, I am transfixed by the stark contrast between our skin tones. The dissimilarity between her creamy pale skin and my café au lait forearm makes me recall another woman, many, many years ago, who had light skin and liked to touch my body.

As though in a trance, I tear my gaze from Susie's hand to look up into her lovely face, yet I don't really see her features. Nope. If I am being honest, I am seeing another face in my memories. A very different face. Sweetly rounded, with dark topaz colored eyes, and full red lips framed by a wild mane of tight ebony curls cascading wildly down her body. Curls I used to toy with during our quiet moments together and yank hard during our frequent bouts of hard and wild fuckin'.

When this sexy as sin female kneels before me to unzip my raggedy-assed jeans, all I can do is grin like I've won the fuckin' lottery. The first touch of her hot tongue on the bulbous head of my big willy makes me moan my pleasure. Fuck yeah! Her little breathy sound of pleasure when her tiny pink tongue laps up my pre-cum fills me with anticipation and fuels my hunger for sex and blood. The only thing I enjoy more than getting head, is going down on a woman and feeding from her in the process. Blood and pussy, my favorite flavor combination. Yeah, I may be a sick sumbitch, but a blood wolf has got needs. Might as well get some pleasure out of it while I am feedin' the beasts.

I tightly knot my hands into her long, thick hair and moan my pleasure as she takes my full length into her mouth, sucking hard. This woman loves sucking cock, and does it godsdamned well, too. I also happen to know from past experience that she loves it rough, so I pump upwards, and ram the back of her throat, causing her to gag just a bit. "Fuck, but I love dat sound when I'm gettin' head," I growl gutturally, letting my inner beast come to the fore. This female loves the rough treatment, and tonight I am just the male to give it to her. In spades. Saints preserve my polluted soul, but I need this.

My inner demon howls his delighted glee as a solitary tear rolls from her eye as I shove my big cock half-way down her throat. Whether the waterworks are from pain, or an involuntary reaction to being gagged by my cock, I know not. Honestly, in this moment, it doesn't matter. This woman knew what she was getting when she knelt before me. I quickly pull back and repeat my sadistic pleasure seeking as I tighten my grip in her hair so she can't back off. She's gonna take all I got to give her. I know she can deep throat any cock in the place. Tonight she's gonna swallow mine repeatedly and then thank me for fucking her mouth as she licks me clean.

I thrust my hips up, and not so gently push her head down, forcing her to take all of my considerable length. This time, the sweet-butt with the million-dollar mouth is ready for me. She simply swallows me down with a moan... hopefully it's a sound of pleasure. I'm an asshole, but I want the female to enjoy it. The darker side of my nature, the side that revels in inflicting small amounts of pain during sex, don't give a flying fuck. He just wants to fuck her hot little mouth, and fuck it hard. The man I used to be, the one who cared about someone besides himself, resolves to make sure I share a drop of my blood to heal any minor injury I might inflict seeking my pleasure from this mortal's body.

I grin like the selfish bastard I am, because my rough treatment doesn't even slow the sweet-butt down one little bit. She's working hard to give me just what I need and taking her own pleasure in the process. That sweet fuckin' mouth of hers just sucks me harder, taking me in deeper and making me revel in pure carnal satisfaction. She makes this sweet little humming noise that vibrates against my sensitized cock, making my eyes roll back into my head as I savor the pleasure of the moment. "Fuck yeah, dawlin'," I moan and pump hard, again and again.

When the scent of her suddenly ramped up arousal hits my nostrils, my mind quickly fast-forwards to finding a dark corner or maybe bending her over this here table, fucking her sweet cunt hard while I sate the demon's need for blood, and the wolf's need to dominate. My darker needs, the ones I usually deny, are riding me hard tonight. I need this badly and I'm chasin' my release like a greyhound at the track. "Yeah." I moan. "Suck me hard, lil' one."

Lost in a sea of wicked sensation and carnal lust, I barely notice when the waitress comes back for last call and makes a joke about me being occupied. The new waitress has walked away, and I am about to shoot my load down this lovely female's throat when I absolutely lose my fuckin' mind, as well as the last semblance of control over my inner beast because the sweetest scent in all of creation hits me like a wild hurricane down on the Gulf. As the aroma assaults my senses and warps my thinkin', I am immediately transported back in time as the essence of sweet sage, wood-smoke and magnolias fills my senses and overrides my awareness of time and space. My seeking fingers desperately wrap tighter in the silky tresses as I pump my cock between swollen, red lips which have haunted my dreams for ages. The tendrils of scent wrap around my heart and mind to transport me to another time, a time when I was another man. A man being loved so skillfully by The One.

I am so fucking lost in my dreams of the past that I loosen my control over my own body to thrust harder and faster into the female's willing mouth, desperately seeking physical release and perhaps oblivion from the agonizing loss which taints my very soul. As one of the most powerful orgasms of my life washes over me, my movements become increasingly frantic and jerky until they gradually taper off to become nothing more than reflexive twitches. My heavily hooded eyes close as my head falls back, and now numb hands drop uselessly to my sides.

I revel in a sea of satiation and peace. Holy fuck! That feeling of being well loved and knowing my place in the world, a feeling which I once savored every day, now has me wrapped up tight in the sweetest embrace. Part of my mind knows it just ain't possible. I'm a genuine fool dat wants to relish this feelin', false or not.
CHAPTER THREE

JOKER

I'm only vaguely aware of the female who is now licking my semi-limp dick clean, and putting it back in my jeans. And I am not sure how long I remain in that blissfully sated state, maybe seconds or minutes – hell, I jes' don know. Eventually, I raise my head to gaze lovingly at the female who just pleasured me so beautifully. That familiar scent is even stronger in my nostrils now, and it's rendering me mindless. A pervasive sense of euphoria is taking over my mind and I am in a dream state because of it. Instead of the lovely Susie kneeling before me, who's now licking her lips and looking up at me for approval and acceptance, it's Jenniene... my sweet, sweet fuckin' Jenni looking up at me with the purest love in her eyes. The rest of creation just falls away, leaving nothing but me and this precious woman in its wake.

Without conscious thought, I reach down to wind my hands forcefully in her long locks to drag her lovely face up to mine for a searing kiss. I use a fang to slash my tongue so that my blood will flavor my mouth, and impart the gift of healing, in case my rough treatment caused any damage. My wolf-demon blood doesn't taste like mundane blood. I've been told it's sweet and tangy. Utterly delicious and undeniably potent. My woman laps eagerly at the inside of my mouth, before sucking on my tongue with all the enthusiasm she swallowed my cock before.

My woman? Some still sane part of my question is questioning this amazing gift I have been given, but I resist those clearheaded thoughts. Instead, I willfully choose to wallow in the moment. True, her taste and scent are off, but I'm too fuckin' far gone to even process the wrongness of my thoughts. My instincts are driving me forward; my need is causing me to drown in the sweet scent of my Jenniene. All the while, my logical mind is screaming at me, urging me toward common sense, and caution. Despite the internal warning that I am bewitched somehow, I revel in the moment. I can scent my female, so I cut loose with all of the need that's raged in my soul over a century as I eagerly devour my woman.

Mine!

My inner beasts are snarling to claim and hold what belongs to us, and I pull the female closer to my body, sliding my hands down her back to savor her curves, and cup her round ass. An ass that's much smaller than I recall, but still I clutch and grope her flesh in a desperate need to reclaim what's mine.

Mindless desire takes over, and I deepen the kiss before I pull back just enough to murmur all of the sweet things I have longed to say for so very fuckin' long, against these beloved lips. I am totally oblivious to everything but the woman I am worshipping with my mouth. "Joli bébé, I've missed you so bad." I nip her lip and she cries out as my fangs break the skin... just a bit. "You are mine, Jenni. Always mine. Only mine." I savor the hint of her precious blood...

But it's wrong. So fuckin' wrong.

I finally pull back as reality slams into me like a runaway locomotive. "Fuck," I snarl as I release the woman abruptly. Susie's sweet face contorts... she immediately looks embarrassed, hurt, and uncertain. And she's definitely pissed. Pissed at me, and rightly so. I feel like a Grade-A asshole for hurting this little gal like this. Not only was I too fucking rough with a mortal, I can tell the way I acted, the shit I said -- fuck, all of it -- hurt her feelings. I called this sweet lil' gal by another woman's name... in front of others. I shamed her. And sweet Susie doesn't deserve that shit from any male. Especially not a worthless fucker like me, who is too stupid to let go of his long dead past. To let go of a woman who has been dead and gone for over a century.

Cupping her face tenderly, with what I hope is a gentle expression on my face, because I sure as hell don't wanna scare her on top of everything else, I sincerely say, "I'm so sorry, Susie. I don't know what got into me." I open my mouth to say more, to make it right, but words fail me. There are no words to justify using and humiliating this woman like this.

Her swollen bottom lip is quivering slightly, and I feel like the biggest dick in the realm for doing that to her. But she simply nods, and looks like she pities me. Hell, in her shoes I might pity the lame ass muther-fucker that I have become, too. She stands shakily to her feet, and I rise to help her. But when I touch her, she tenses up. I can tell she wants me to step away, so I do. My touch is the last thing this sweet lil' gal wants right now. That feels like a punch to the gut, but it's no less than I deserve. Truth be told, I deserve a helluva lot worse than this gentle rebuff for using such a sweet angel the way I just did.

Even though I am wallowing in regret over my actions, now and in the past, I just can't get that fuckin' scent out of my nostrils. Both of the beasts inside of me are clamoring to get out. We smell our woman. It's not just some sense memory or some similar aroma. I smell Jenniene. Right here, right fucking now. In the year of our Lord, 2016, not 1872. But that's impossible. Nuthin' in creation could bring that precious woman back from the dead, and fill this clubhouse with her sweet scent. Nuthin'.

But part of me knows better. I recognize that scent and there's only one female who smelled that way... ever. Slowly, I turn my head and look over my shoulder at the entrance to the Twin Raven's MC clubhouse. There, in the flesh, is my Jenniene... My. Fuckin'. Jenniene. My mate. And she's staring daggers at me. In one miraculous and horrible instant, I am transported back in time.

The dank and dark alley behind this tavern on the outskirts of New Orleans is cloying with odors of kitchen refuse and human offal, but such places in the city are the safest for me to feed unseen. I make sure the drunken sailor whom I just fed from is resting comfortably behind a stack of crates with a bit of extra care because I suddenly feeling guilty. I took a bit too much blood from this one, but I put off feeding too long and my beasts needed the sustenance. Again, I check the sailor's breathing and coloring, before deciding he will be fine a few hours of sleep and eating a bit of food. When he awakens in a few hours, he will simply think he passed out after a night of hard drinking in the tavern. He will have no memory of my taking his blood. Thankfully, the blood magick that turned me into the beast that I am now, always clouds the memories of my "donors" with the simple utterance of one word; forget. Without this magickal protection, the good folks of my new hometown would have tracked me down years ago. While I may deserve death, I don't actively seek it. Especially since finding my Jenniene.

Thoughts of my precious pale skinned quadroon goddess make me long to go home and hold her in my arms after sating our mutual lust in a long night of rough and sweat sex. But my female went out earlier to help deliver a babe. Her mother was healing woman, and Jenniene has some of her talent. Folks who live in our part of the city frequently call on her help deliver a babe when there's no money to pay a doctor or midwife.

Ignoring my need for my female, I rise to my full height and stretch my arms over my head, as though honoring the night for my renewed vigor, purchased at the cost of this unknown man's blood. I may hate this darker side of my nature, but I'd never wish it away. Without the blood magick, which my maman called upon the night I danced at the end of the hangman's noose I would be nothing but a pile of cold, pale bones by now. It was over a hundred years ago, when Maman used her dark healing arts to work some sort of magick that bound my soul to a blood demon and feral wolf. Magick that gave me amazin' healing abilities, strength and agility beyond anything I could ever have imagined as young buck working in the cotton fields on the plantation. The need to take in a bit of human blood now and then to sustain my demon side, as well as a soul deep desire to go furry on four legs to howl at the moon now and again, are a small price to pay for being alive to meet the one female the fates and my own heart have deemed perfect for me.

Just as important, this strange magick gave me the ability to protect Maman and the rest of our people on the plantation. I went back to my former home a few nights after my date with the hangman to find the new overseer following the footsteps of the bastard to who sired me. My wolf made short work of that heartless predator and he never raped another young girl. Over next few years, I carefully haunted the plantation in my human and wolf forms until every white man deserted the Master and his family. Using new found skills of reading and writing, which had I learned from a crazed gator hunting hermit in the swamps of my home, I tormented and haunted my former "owner" with "ghostly missives" designed to fill him with terror and guilt, until he took his own life after freeing all of his slaves. It was one of the brightest days in my long and dark history when I watched the Master's widow and daughters load up into a carriage, bound for ship that would take them back to France and away from the ghost and demon wolf that haunted Deschamps plantation for over five years.

I remained in the area to look after Maman in a cabin I built for her in the swamps. She spent the rest of her life honing her healing arts, and tendin' to slaves, freedman and poor white folks alike. After she passed on in 1810, I took the form of my wolf and remained a ghost of the swamps and bayous until about five years ago. I spent those dark years living as a wolf on the bounty of Louisiana's backwater, only taking human form to enter human settlements to feed and "borrow" an occasional book. Once that crazy ol' hermit taught me my letters, I found I had an insatiable desire for knowledge. So, I fed that need, just as I fed the need for blood, in secret. Only slipping away from my bayou home long enough to meet my needs. But the need for more gradually sank it's claws into my very soul, and I slowly became consumed with the need to rejoin humanity. This urge became increasingly strong, and I resisted as long as I could... Until the day I laid eyes on a lovely quadroon healing woman collecting herbs and healin' barks in the swamps near New Orleans. At the first sight of my sweet Jenniene, I realized the undefined need I had been experiencing for decades was my lost humanity clamoring to reassert itself in my life. The need to once again be a part of the human race. To have friends, an occupation, a place in society, but most importantly, the need to have someone to love who would love me in return. Upon seeing sweet Jenniene, I rejoined mankind, learned a trade as a blacksmith, and made place for myself in the bustling city of New Orleans before setting about to win the heart of the prettiest girl in the entire city.

Thoughts of my lover make me eager to return to our home, but I cast a glance at the night sky to note the position of the moon. It's doubtful my sweet bébé is even home yet. After again checking on the sailor, I give my wolf his head and let the magick instantly transform me into my alternate form. The beast lifts his nose into the night air and inhales deeply, taking in the scents of the congested cityscape. The wolf's superior senses easily sort through the cacophony of odors and aromas that confuse me in my human form. On this night, the wolf instantly focuses on a scent so familiar and beloved by man, demon and wolf alike... Jenniene! My other senses quickly register her presence... a racing heart, the heady perfume of fear, which the wolf normally savors but finds imminently distasteful when emanating from our female. Slowly, I turn my beastly head to see my Jenniene hiding in the shadows at the mouth of the alley. Her beautiful eyes are wide and filled with terror as she gawps at my massive wolf form. Her beloved mouth is opening and closing as though to form words, yet nothing but a frightened squeak emits from her lovely lips.

FUCK! The very human word resounds like a death knell through my consciousness. Without thought or conscious act I resume my human form and take a step toward my woman, who suddenly finds her voice and whispers; "Stop!" She shakes her head in denial and presses her back against the brick wall of the building whose shadow she had been hiding in. "Please don't kill me," she begs pitifully.

In an instant, I am at my female's side to take her into my arms and whisper heartfelt assurances that I'd never harm her. For one sweet, blissful and magickal moment she melts into my embrace and seems to accept the truth of my words. But apparently, the memory of all that she likely witnessed in this godsforsaken alley rushes back in to flood her with terror. The choking scent of putrid fear wafts from my female's body to pollute my nostrils just as she pushes out of my embrace. Her terror fueled vehemence strengthens Jenniene as she easily frees herself from my gentle imprisonment. I know my woman, my heart, my very reason for living is about flee into the night, so drop to my knees and begin to beg for her indulgence. I plead earnestly for my lover to hear me out. The act of seeing a man as proud as she knows me to be humble myself in such a way must catch her attention, because she stops and cocks her head as though to listen. Only a fool would waste such a precious opportunity, and my Maman didn't raise no fool. Without preamble or even true cogent thought, I begin to vomit forth the details of my history and explain what I was doing in this alley tonight, and how I come to have the ability to shift into the form of a massive wolf.

Once I have confessed the barebones of my history in a garbled narrative, I realize that I am utterly spent and desperate for my woman's understanding and compassion. I've remained in my kneeling position throughout the entire telling, and now I leadenly rest my hands on the tops of my thighs and bow my head in what feels like an act of submission. In this moment, I realize I am wholly at the mercy of this female. The fate of my life, heart and soul rest in her delicate little hands. I can only pray my mangled explanations and assurances that I would never harm her, or any innocent, are enough to satisfy her.

"Demon," she croaks after several silent moments. I lift my head to gaze at Jenniene in surprise at the raw horror I can hear in her voice. But I shouldn't be surprised because folks round these parts are a superstitious lot who know there are things in this world that common sense just can't explain away. Talk of demons would surely evoke fear in a woman steeped in bayou lore and legend as my Jenniene was raised by her healer Maman. "You..." she licks her lips nervously. "You are a goddamned demon?"

I shake my head in frantic denial. "Not a demon, mon coeur. Just bound to one." I cringe inwardly because I realize that's a flimsy distinction, at best. At worst, it's an admission of guilt. "My maman was desperate that I survive the hangman's noose, so she bound me to the wolf and demon alike."

Jenniene slowly begins to shake her head from side to side as her spine goes ramrod stiff. Obviously, she is expecting me to pounce on her to devour her soul at any moment. In an instant, I can see icy determination form in her lovely eyes. Eyes which have suddenly gone hard and bright as the hue shifts from the darkest topaz to glowing amber. The scent of fear, which hovered around my woman like methane gas in the deepest swamps, shifts suddenly to tell me she's now enraged. "You just spotted me in the swamp one day and decided to make me yours?" Her question is hard and furious. I don't recall using those exact words, but yes, that is essentially what happened. I nod silently, feeling the faint glimmer of hope that I had been holding in my heart begin to flicker. My frantic mind begins casting about for an explanation or justification that will take that hard look from my woman's face. Deep in my heart, I know it's pointless. Learning about my true nature has poisoned my woman's heart toward me, and nuthin' I say is ever gonna change that.

"Leave. Leave New Awlins, and never come back. Go back to your swamps where you belong, demon spawn." Her granite hard command causes my stubborn male pride to rise to the fore, and I open my mouth to refuse. But in that instant, I realize that underneath her façade of hatred lurks pure terror. My woman, my mate, my life is so afraid of me that she's casting me from her life. In that instant, all hope of a future worth living with my woman at my side goes up in a puff of suffocating smoke.

* * * *

I shake my head to purge the unwanted memory which flashed through my alcohol soaked brain the second I laid eyes on the raven-haired enchantress from my past. With an effort, I focus my full attention on the woman standing the in doorway of the Twin Ravens MC. The disdain I feel from the woman who still owns my heart feels like a hot poker stabbing through my heart. But even that sensation is not as painful as the realization of what's in Jenniene's arms... a child... no, it's a fuckin' infant. And it smells like some kind of shifter. An outraged and very territorial snarl erupts from my wolf and fills the room.

How dare another beast lay hands on my mate?

"What the fuck?" I growl loudly before striding toward the door. But I am instantly brought back to reality when my path is blocked by Blood, the MC's leader. My friend and mentor.

"Stand down, blood wolf. Mistress Jenniene was expected tonight, and she has my protection." I see true compassion and empathy in my friend's gaze, and I suspect he read every thought and feeling that flashed through mind moments ago. Inwardly, I bristle at the invasion the resulting pity, but Blood's guttural and gravelly tone is laced heavily with magick so ancient, none in this realm none can completely ignore it. And I am sure as fuck not immune to Blood's power. I barely resist the urge to bare my neck or duck my head in submission. My need to keep my eyes on Jenniene is probably the only thing that keeps me frozen in my defiant stance.

No one will keep me from mine.

But then another, more confusing thought occurs to me. What the fuck? Why would Blood ever think Jenniene would need protection from me? But more importantly... How is she alive? And just what does my Jenniene need protection from?
CHAPTER FOUR

JENNIENE

"Yeah, I made it safe and sound," I sigh softly into the phone when my bestie and fellow demon hunter chides me, yet again, for taking on this dangerous task by myself. Breena knows as well as I do that I really didn't have a choice but do things this way. Our friends have laid false trails and tried to capture my pursuers, while I high-tailed it for Tulsa with the kid. Despite the fact she helped formulate the plan, she worries like a mother hen. I smirk at the thought. She's well over eight centuries old, and one of the mothers of the new breed of vamps, she's got more than enough on her plate to fret over. But that never stops her from worrying about folks she cares for. I count myself lucky to be one of her friends. After all, it never hurts to have a powerful Spell Weaver in your corner.

I shift the sleeping child in my arms as I look up at the flashing neon nudie figure above the door. I can feel the ancient power radiating from this site, and despite the fact that it has been turned into a modern day strip club, and houses a so-called Outlaw MC, there is no doubt this is a place of strong and ancient magick. But a strip club? Really? I don't like the sullen feelings that threaten to overwhelm me at the thought of hiding out here, of all places.

My personal feelings must be put aside. I know my options are severely limited, and this is the best one...Hell, maybe the only one. Strip club and all, I just gotta suck it up and do what needs to be done. I look down at the baby in my arms and remind myself she will be safe here. This is likely the only place she has a chance to be truly safe.

But I still feel torn as I cast my gaze around the nearly deserted parking lot, taking in all of the motorcycles parked like mechanical sentinels against the evil I feel building in the night. I wonder if it's my imagination, inflamed by days without sleep and the desperation only those running for their lives can ever truly understand, or if it's something more sinister. I peer into the darkness beyond the rings of light cast by a couple of street lights and realize it's not just me. There's truly evil building, roiling around the edge of the protective magick that surrounds this place. It's looking for a weakness, a way in. I shudder at the oppressive absence of light and good I can feel pressing against this bastion of protection and safety in the midst of so much turmoil.

The intensity of the threat that's building just beyond the protective wards and the fact that this is a strip club where women are leered at, drooled over, and pawed incessantly does nothing to boost my confidence in my decision to come here to seek sanctuary and protection for the tiny person in my arms. Yeah, this place is just perfect for an innocent child. My own sarcasm certainly isn't lost on me. But honestly, what choice do I have? The male who is in charge here is the kid's only true hope. Even the Spell Weavers couldn't guarantee her safety in Airendell. Her only hope resides here... the source of the ancient magick which created her kind.

After repeating my promise to call if I need her help, I disconnect the call and double check that my weapons are handy. I don't really think I will need them here, but ya just never know. Besides, I have truly precious cargo to protect. Without thought, I lean down and kiss the downy soft head of the child in my arms. "I won't let you down, sweetheart." This oft repeated vow has become my mantra and driving force for the last five days. It's been a true nightmare, and I should feel relieved because I have finally, finally, made it to Tulsa after five hellish days on the run. But I didn't really have a choice, I was entrusted with keeping this child safe from a rogue band of Ghouls. Those sick fucks are intent on using this child's blood for some warped All Hallows ritual to strengthen their magick so they can take over New Orleans during Samhain.

Oh, hell no, that's not gonna happen as long as I am able to draw a breath. Suck it up, buttercup. Whatever awaits inside is better than what I know hunts this kid out there. I can't help but cast another glance over my shoulder at the encroaching darkness. Obviously, I am not able to actually see the building evil that is stalking this child, but I can damn sure feel it. This kid, my hometown, and maybe the whole freaking mortal realm are at risk, so I can pull up my big girl panties and face a group of Immortal outlaw bikers and beg their help. Yep... I got this. They can't be so bad... can they? I fidget with the baby's light blanket while I'm stalling at the door. COWARD! My inner voice, which sounds an awful lot like Mistress Leveau, sneers at me from my subconscious.

Time to face the music. The Twin Ravens MC, and especially the male who leads them, is the kid's best hope. I know this, but I also know there's another inside this building who will not welcome my presence in Tulsa with open arms. Not that I blame him one little bit. I was wrong. Very, very wrong. And to compound the very wrongness of my actions, I've allowed him to believe me dead for all these years. I've done dirt by that male in so many ways, and yet the moment I run into a problem I can't handle on my own, I run to his people for help. That's just messed up, on so many levels. I want to kick my own ass for being such a bitch to him all those years ago. Of course, I know I'm not going to get a warm reception here. Not from my former lover or his friends.

"This is gonna be fun. Not..." I mutter into the darkness. My insides tie up in knots. Shame over an ancient stupidity on my part washes over me, but I push it aside. I don't have time for this shit. I have a mission. Obviously, my thoughts are all over the place, exhaustion will do that to a gal. But now is not the time for me to dither like a foolish girl. Dammit, Jenniene, you are nearly 200 years old... Grow. The. Fuck. Up. There are things at stake much more important than my past stupidity and the pain I caused the man I love. I cuddle the child to remind myself of the mission.

Really missing my Chapstick, a hot shower, and clean clothes, I lick my dry lips. Being on the run is hard as hell on a gal's looks. That voice is back telling me I'm still dithering, but I know my bedraggled and exhausted condition will scream victim, not bad-ass demon slayer, which is the image I usually cultivate. Shit. I hate feeling weak, like quarry, among a den of predators, but I know that's what awaits me inside.

I look down at the sweet child in my arms and am reminded that I'd do anything to protect this innocent being. It's not her fault she was born something incredibly rare and magickal. She deserves protection and safety. I plan to focus on making sure that's exactly what she gets. And that includes facing my past and owning up to my mistakes so I can move forward, unencumbered, to shield her from what is coming after us.

Well, shiiit! I can sense him inside this building. Can he sense me as well? Damn, this is harder than I thought it was going to be.

I've been standing here for almost three minutes working myself into a tizzy, and yet I know I need to get my happy little ass inside. Now. Giving myself a mental shake, I square my shoulders and reach for the door handle. "I've never been one who refuses to do anything to protect the innocent, I sure as hell am not gonna start now." My quiet vow finally provides the impetus I need to move forward. I shove the door open and damn near swallow my own tongue when I step inside.

The one male who has owned me, heart and soul, for the better part of two centuries is sitting at a booth getting head from a beautiful blond who obviously loves every second of the rough treatment he's doling out. And he's obviously enjoying the hell out of it. His familiar musk of arousal fills the room and permeates my senses and transports me back in time. Back to the days when I would be the female on my knees before this glorious dark-skinned god among mortals. Back to the days when we were cherished and trusted lovers to each other.

Well, fuck! Maybe it was some kind of female intuition that had me hesitating outside and not just guilt. I so did not need to see this! My anger flares red hot, despite the fact that I sent him away from me in a fit of terror and outrage over a century ago when I learned of his connection to a demon. Despite the fact that I have allowed him to believe me long dead, I am standing here feeling outraged, offended, and possessive as hell because he's finding his pleasure with another female.

My arrival is attracting attention, and I can't help but wonder how many of these folks know something of my history with Zeke. My feminine pride forces me to stand a bit taller despite my bedraggled appearance and desperate situation. Staple those big girl panties your hips, gal. They's a slippin' off. The urge to leave is nearly overwhelming. I can feel my guilt, insecurity, fear for the child and jealousy having a free for all in my spirit. And I stand there and defiantly stare. When Zeke finally lifts his head and stares at the woman with a look of pure adoration, it's only the babe in my arms that keeps me from drawing my weapons to show this female what we do down south to women who trespass on another's territory. I softly gasp my outrage when my Zeke drags the female to him for a possessive and adoring kiss. And I choke back a scream of agony when he speaks tender words of adoration. But hope soars, foolishly, in my heart when he calls her Jenniene.

Butterflies flutter in my belly, making me feel nine kinds of giddy and shit. You are such a girl, Jenniene Marie Xavier! Yeah, that sounds about right... but he still loves me! Zeke still loves me!

The realization that my male still has feelings for me makes me smirk in delight despite the fact that I can see hurt, anger, and then pity in the pretty blond girl's face. Suddenly, my better nature pushes to the fore and I feel bad for the girl. She knows she was just blatantly used in front of an audience. My sympathy for the woman rises, as does my irrational anger at my male who sought to slake his lust with another.

When he finally apologizes to the girl and then turns to look over his shoulder at the place where I am standing near the front door, I can see utter shock, confusion, and betrayal on his beloved face. And that's when reality bitch slaps me. Zeke has done nothing wrong. I am the one who chased him off when I discovered his secret. I am the one who let him believe I was a simple human female. I am the one who allowed him to think me dead for all of these years. I am the one who ruined both of our lives. That's all on me. I have no right to feel anything but remorse in this situation.

The expression of outraged shock on his handsome face nearly makes me turn tail and run. But the now squirming bundle in my arms reminds me why I am here. Zeke is striding toward me like the lethal predator he is. Laissez les bon temps roulez! I chuckle dryly, despite the riotous emotions raging inside of me. Judging by the angry, confused expression on his handsome face I'd say my head is more likely to roll than good times.

When a massive, and I do mean H-U-G-E, mountain of a man blocks Zeke's path, I have to swallow hard. The intervening male is about seven feet tall, and built like a frickin' Mac truck. The carefully contained power I feel radiating from the male matches the ancient magick of this place. He IS obviously the man in charge. The pre-historic guardian of this region. I know instinctively that he must be Blood, the leader of the Twin Ravens MC, and only living sabretooth cat shifter. Or so we all thought.

Oh man, I am about to rock everyone's world tonight, and so not in a good way. I hold the infant in my arms just a bit more securely, hoping and praying to all the saints and saviors that I am doing the right thing by bringing this helpless child here.

All of my personal shit has to be pushed to the side until this baby is safe. So, I have to face my past head on and deal with it. Now! I will not be very welcome here as soon as Zeke tells these Immortal enforcers what I have done. But the behemoth's words assure me, at least for the moment, that I won't be cast out onto the streets with my little bundle of trouble.

"Stand down, Blood-Wolf. Mistress Jenniene was expected tonight, and she has my protection." The look of shock on Zeke's face does nothing to sooth my worries, but I expected rejection, scorn, and disbelief when I showed up in his territory. Shock I can handle; I almost always surprise those around me. My unique nature makes it easy to hide my secrets under everyone's noses until I need to reveal my hidden strength.

Some instinct speaks to my heart and mind, telling me Zeke won't hurt me. Ever. He might not be happy to see me, but he'd never hurt me. "Blood, Zeke wasn't going to hurt me. He'd never do such a thing." The behemoth nods his acknowledgment, but he never takes his eyes from the face of my former lover.

That's when I turn my full attention to Zeke, the man who I have regretted sending away every single day for over hundred years. Everyone else in the room dissolves into oblivion, only this man and myself remain. "Zeke, I know I have a lot of explaining to do." I lick my suddenly dry lips and continue in a quiet, but calm voice. "But I've brought trouble, big trouble, to your MC's door. Our issues... they have to wait." I smile weakly, hoping to... hell, I don't know what. Reassure him? Connect on some level? Maybe. I just don't know. I am so confused and elated to see him again that I can barely think straight.

My heart is racing a mile a minute, and I want to rush to him, kick his shins, hard, and demand to know why another woman was pleasuring him. And then I want to throw myself into his arms and promise him that if he ever even looks at another woman I will gut his demon ass for him. After I've set him right about all that, I want to kiss his beautiful full lips, taste him, hold him, love him, and never let him go, again. But I can't do that. None of it.

I have a job to do. A child to protect. But mostly, I no longer have any claim on this male. I surrendered all my rights to Zeke when I sent him away. When I behaved like a scared little girl who wanted to ignore all things dark and supernatural. A silly female who was trying desperately to deny what I had become, the very embodiment of a demon's obsession and darkness. Something no longer human – a demon shade.

Zeke's dark caramel colored eyes never leave my face as he evaluates my words. I can see he's trying desperately to process what he's seeing. He's believed me dead and buried for over a century. I can only imagine the confusion he's dealing with right now. But I can see the same wisdom, innate intelligence, and compassion in his face I fell in love with so very long ago. Despite his confusion, his obvious pain seeing me has brought back, and despite the wrongs I will have to answer for, this male won't turn me or the baby away. He will help. My relief is a palpable force in the room and I can feel the tension ooze from my spine as my body relaxes just a bit from its fight or flight posture.

Blood must see something in Zeke's face which assures him that the Blood-Wolf, and my former lover, is on board because he nods slightly at Zeke before turning to face me. He's a rough and dangerous looking male with his blunt Native American features, muscles for miles, and black leather pants topped with the worn leather vest of an outlaw biker. His beat up leather cut bears the club's sigil and patch that marks him as the president and absolute leader of this band of Immortal enforcers. Despite the fact that he's obviously deadly and powerful, he also feels very safe. I know instinctually that I can trust this male to protect the child.

I feel immediately at ease in his presence. My friend Breena had told me the child would be safe under this male's protection. In this moment of absolute clarity, I, too, know it's going to work out. I'm not sure if it's because of the ancient magick I feel radiating from him in soothing waves or the fact that he's obviously a major bad-ass. Maybe it's because he is looking at the child in my arms with something closely akin to awe. Whatever the reason, I feel myself relax for the first time since I found the baby's mother dying in the swamp back home.

Maybe, just maybe everything will be alright.

But all those pleasant thoughts fly out of my head when I look again into the face of the man who owns my heart. The anguish and confusion I see there tears at my heart and fills me with grief and shame.

I did that. Damn. 
CHAPTER FIVE

JENNIENE

Before I have much of an opportunity to wallow in my self-loathing over what I have done to Zeke, I am led to a small private office by a very sexy human male with strawberry blonde hair and attractive facial scruff. This male has a bone-deep, Mr. Bad-Ass aura that leaves no doubt as to why he's VP of a band of Immortal enforcers even though it's obvious that he's human, or at least mostly human. The vibes I read off this male confuse my intuition making me feel as clueless as I was back when Zeke and I were together. Back before I sought out Immortals who protect mortals and learned how to spot different kinds of supernatural beings so that I could hunt down and destroy those who seek to do harm.

Despite my uncertainty about this male's true nature, I smile because I can tell this man is able to stand up to any of them. I try to make small talk with the hottie VP while I change the baby's diaper, but the cagey human obviously isn't into chit chat with strangers he has no reason to befriend, much less trust. But he does seem to want to help protect the infant. I can true tenderness on his gruff features whenever he looks at the baby. In fact, he insists on holding the child while I wash up. This strong, human male radiates protectiveness toward the child, so I let him hold her while I wash some of the grime from the road and any traces of the most recent diaper change from my person before futilely finger combing my lank but still curly hair. I exhale wearily. This is the best it's gonna get without a shower and about twelve hours of sleep. I'm gonna have to get through whatever comes next on bravo alone. I smile wanly at my washed out reflection because even my usually overly full tank of moxie of just about tapped dry.

When I come out of the bathroom I am surprised to find the VP and child are gone, but Zeke is waiting for me. There he stands – gloriously shirtless, sexy as nine kinds of delicious sin in his ratty old jeans and battered leather cut. His demeanor is haughty, just daring me to step out of line, as he rests his fine ass on the front edge of the desk, legs crossed at the ankles, and well-muscled arms akimbo. His rich, smooth café au lait skin seems to glow warmly under the artificial lighting, and beckons me to touch, to taste, as memories of our old lives together flood me with regret and shame.

Zeke's manner has changed considerably in a very short time. He had seemed pretty drunk when I first arrived at the MC, but it appears that he is as sober as a judge now. Why not? He's got an Immortal's metabolism. But more importantly, he feels... dangerous, deadly, and wholly focused. The power emanating from my former lover makes me nervous because I know he has no reason to welcome me with open arms.

I look around for the VP and the baby, but Zeke assures me the baby is in good hands. Leaving me with nothing to say or do, but stand there in the bathroom doorway, suddenly feeling exposed, vulnerable, and decidedly unwelcome. I didn't realize it until right now, but I had been using the kid as a shield to hide behind since I arrived. I was only delaying the inevitable. When Zeke stalks across the room in just a few long strides to tower over me, I stiffen my spine, expecting recriminations, accusations, demands for explanations... anything but what actually happens.

He wraps one of his powerful arms around my waist and pulls my body up and against his own, before leaning down to nuzzle where my neck meets my shoulder. When he inhales deeply, every nerve in my body crackles with electricity, as I struggle to get a toehold on the floor. A deep resonating growl sounds in his chest and then vibrates against my flesh before he inhales again. Honestly, I am not sure how long he holds me against his body, taking in my scent, my essence, and when he finally speaks, it shatters part of my soul.

"I fuckin' knew I was scenting you, Jenni. I fuckin' knew it," Zeke growls in a voice that's more animal than man. He wraps his other arm around me, holding me tightly against his body before murmuring; "I thought I was losing my fuckin' mind when I realized I'd confused Susie for you... but it was your scent filling my senses and cloudin' my fuckin' mind." He inhales deeply once again. "I'd know your scent anywhere."

The reminder of what he had been doing when I walked into the club acts like a bucket of ice water being dumped over my head. There are so many things I should try to tell this man, but the words just refuse to come. The green-eyed demon of jealousy has me in a vice-like grip and it's really stirring up my prideful side. Obviously, Zeke has moved on. Time for me to do the same. Take care of the issue that brought me to Tulsa in the first place, and then go home. I belong in New Orleans, not here. I push hard enough to make him loosen his hold on my body. When he does, I blatantly ignore the look of wounded surprise on his face and push past him to yank the office door open.

I find the VP waiting out in the darkened hall with the baby in his arms. The child reaches for me, and the VP silently hands the child off, all the while he's giving me a look that feels like it's a mixture of pity and disgust. "Need to make the kid a bottle?" he asks gently. I can only nod wordlessly, and watch Zeke's retreating back as he strolls out of the office after I do. My former lover saunters silently past me and his MC brother, leaving me alone with the not-so-talkative human and the shifter child that fate has thrust under my protection.

Several long moments of tense silence reign after Zeke disappears into the main part of the clubhouse. I exhale slowly, trying, in vain, to push back the sea of regrets which seeing my beloved again has brought into my life. The VP watches me like a hawk without saying another word. Eventually, he leads me back to the main part of the strip club after showing me to the kitchen so I could heat a bottle and some baby food. Once we arrive in the cavernous area, I am a bit overwhelmed by the abundance of magick and potent testosterone in the room. It seems the entire MC is assembled and waiting for us.

When I move forward to join the group, Zeke uses one of his booted feet to casually nudge an empty chair my way. I recall the strength of his arms around me, the hardness of his body, his heat, his scent, and way he breathed me in like he needed my scent to survive. Yet, I see no indication that our encounter in the office affected him at all. In fact, he's not even looking at me, but the message is still clear: Sit. Here. My former lover looks perfectly at ease, but I know it's a façade. He's in turmoil over discovering I am still alive after all this time. I can feel his confusion and a deep sense of betrayal. I have to answer for that – sooner or later. A deep longing to explain myself nearly overwhelms me, but this isn't the right time. And yet, the need to make things right persists. Before I return to New Awlins I will find a way to make this better, I promise myself silently.

Not wanting to distract the group when I need their support to protect the child, I take the seat beside my former lover where I quickly begin to feed the baby. She's a pretty little thing with dark hair and eyes, who's probably a year old or so. This motley crew of bad-ass enforcers all seem to be immediately smitten by my charge. The child, and I by extension, have their full attention.

"What's your baby's name?" Zeke asks in a carefully neutral tone.

I shrug. "I have no idea. She's not mine. I never laid eyes on her until five days ago."

"You have no idea?" I can hear the tension in the male's voice. "If this is not your child, how did you come to be in charge of her care?"

I try to focus on feeding the baby while I decide how much I should tell this bunch. Realizing I need them to trust me, I decide complete honesty is the way to go. "Five nights ago, me and couple of my demon chasers tracked a pair of rogue Stone Colds into the bayou. We came across a young human female, clutching this poor baby to her body as she tried desperately to hide among the knees of some ancient cypress trees."

I look around to all of the assembled enforcers to make sure I have their attention. "This poor mortal woman was covered in bite marks. Ghoul bite marks." I wait a second to let that sink in. "She begged me and my companions to protect her child, whom she claimed was a sabretooth shifter." I can see shock on their faces at the claim the child is a sabretooth. Supposedly, the last known shifter of that kind is their leader, Blood. But they are all nodding just the same. Any of them would have willingly taken up the protection of the baby, rare shifter or not, had they been in my shoes. Now I have to admit the part of the story that will probably be fodder for my nightmares for many years to come.

"Uh, something is happening to the Ghouls down in the Bayous." I pause, hoping they have already heard of the epidemic we are facing down there. But I am met with blank stares. Shit. "When a Ghoul from a certain clan bites a human, the human victim becomes a Ghoul. It's a painful, and often deadly, process. Very few humans actually survive the transition. Those who survive, mindlessly obey the clan leader. He's building an army. They have big plans for some really dark magick on All Hallows Eve."

Well that certainly gets a reaction out of the assembled enforcers. Most of them are looking at me with blatant skepticism in their faces. By tradition, a Ghoul must be born of at least one Ghoul parent, or made by a complicated ritual involving exchange of blood and organs with a Stone Cold vampire. The process is dangerous and complicated. That's probably why the Ghoul population has never really flourished.

It's the angry little vampire bartender who finally outright challenges my claim. "Bullshit, voodoo queen. There's no way in hell you are going to convince me a simple bite by a Ghoul can change a human." Her expression clearly reveals her disdain for me and her unwillingness to listen to the truth. Yep, I knew Zeke's little vamp buddy was gonna be a problem. I had noticed her rush to his side to hover protectively when Zeke first laid eyes on me. It was plain these two are friends. Obviously, I need to stand up to her, here and now, or this little witchy-vamp will run me over if I don't.

Without thought, I hand the baby off to Zeke, who takes her automatically, even though he looks as though he has no idea what to do with her once he has her in his arms. I catch myself smirking at his manly discomfiture despite the tenseness of the situation. Lordy, but he's so cute with a baby in his arms. But I don't have time to relish Zeke's momentarily helpless state. I have to deal with his little guard-dog.

I stand and move much faster than any of them expect. Every supe I have ever met reads me as fully human, so seeing what I can do almost always catches them off guard. Without warning, I am in the diminutive vampire's face, snarling angrily. "Listen up, lady vamp, I don't give a damn what you believe. I don't give a damn that you have a low opinion of me." Her attitude angers me, but my conscience reminds me that this vampire is Zeke's friend. I am momentarily taken aback when I realize her poor estimation of me has merit. "You have reason not to like me. I'll give you that one. What I did to Zeke back in the day...it was wrong. It was cowardly and it was stupid." I cast a quick glance at the male in question before I quietly add; "But it's also between him and me."

I step back to show her I'm willing to give her space. I'm not afraid to fight this vamp, but it won't help my current predicament one bit to do so. I need these Immortals as allies to protect the child. I look around the assembled group, meeting the gaze of each individual. "What I am tellin' you folks right now, it's the God's honest truth. And before this epidemic spreads to other Ghoul clans, you folks better listen up. 'Cause Bayou Ghouls being able to change humans into mindless flesh-eating minions ain't the worst news I got for ya."

Tara snorts her utter contempt for me before turning on her heel to stomp off behind the bar. I watch as she pours two fingers of some fine Macallan Scotch into a tumbler, all the while glaring daggers at me. Yep, she and I... so not gonna be best buds. I tiredly push the unwashed hair from my face and will the soul deep exhaustion away. "I don't have time for this drama. None of us do. The clan will be on us soon." I move back to my seat and take the baby from Zeke, who had been pretty much ignoring my dust up with his vampy buddy in favor of making faces for a giggling baby. A pang of deep and ancient longing pierces my heart when I recall the many times I wished to have children with this male.

But I push those ancient regrets aside and grin impishly at the disappointed look on his beautiful face when I take the little one back to finish feeding her. Once the jar of food is done, and I settle the baby to take the bottle, Blood chuckles because the little handful begins to squirm and fuss. His deep, rich voice sooths me all the while he's telling me what I'm doing wrong with the kid. "Bonita is too big to be fed a bottle like a newborn. Unless she is sleepy, frightened or ill, it is likely that a child of her age prefers to sit up to drink from the bottle. She might even prefer a sippy cup."

I snort and look at the bad-ass enforcer leader and say; "Well, it's not like Mom had a diaper bag on her person when I found them in the swamp, and I do not know anything about babies. I have never really been around children much." I blush and look at the floor. "I was an only child. Maman said I was handful enough for three mothers and she never yearned for more children."

I'm not really sure why I admit this to a group of strangers. Especially not considering how tense the situation is. Before I know it, several of the burly Immortal enforcers are debating the pros and cons of sippy cups versus bottles and when it's safe for an infant to drink whole milk instead of formula, as well as a few issues such as colic, risks of tooth decay, and developing early allergies. I am feeling pretty flummoxed by it and look around the room, hoping one of these bad-ass males will put a stop to this informative, if ill-timed, flood of information about the best way to care for babies.

When I meet Tara's eyes from across the room, she smirks, almost... playfully, at me. Our X chromosomes must be bonding over the silliness of men in general. I watch as she pours herself another two fingers of that top-shelf Scotch and sips it slowly with a wicked glint in her eyes. Rolling my eyes, I groan in frustration when Blood and his VP begin a heated debate over which diaper rash treatment works best. Man, I've got to get these guys back on track. We have deadly matters to deal with that trump baby care advice. I look around the vast room filled with bad-ass biker types who run the gambit of paranorms, hoping to see some eagerness to get back to discussing supernatural threats against man-kind.

A shrill whistle startles the lively debaters into silence. We all look over at the bar, and watch Tara savor the last sip of her very fine liquor before she speaks softly, but with undeniable strength and authority. "So ladies? Are you ready to put away your sugar teats? Or do you plan on discussing babies until your menstrual cycles sync up?" It's all I can do not to erupt into giggles at the blatant amusement I see dancing in her eyes. But she quickly turns serious, and plants her hands on the bar top and leans forward to address her fellow enforcers. "Stop embracing your feminine sides and focus on the fucking mission. Whether the voodoo queen is lying or not about the Ghouls, we all know we need to protect the shifter child." I bristle inwardly at the unwanted nickname and implication that I might be a liar, but now is not the time to deal with such petty concerns. Instead, I glare at the men in the room hoping like hell the snarky vampire got her message through.

Amid the groans and smart ass replies to her insults regarding their manhood, I hear many agreeing the child's needs must come first. The group quickly begins throwing out suggestions to safeguard the child. I'm listening to the cacophony and trying to rate who the strongest enforcers are among the group, but I quickly return my attention to Tara. I feel drawn to her... connected somehow, despite her obvious distrust of me I get the feeling this female is rock solid. Even if she is a cast-iron bitch.

The arrogant female vamp meets my gaze and smirks knowingly before she begins to stare daggers at me. I'm wondering if the chick has some kind of multiple personality disorder, when I suddenly feel a foreign presence surge against my mental shields. My first response is to keep the interloper out of my mind. But I quickly recognize the vampy witch's energy and decide to risk letting her read my thoughts. I'm not really sure I can trust her not to try to attack while she's in there, but I am able to protect myself if she attempts to do more than determine whether or not I am lying. After a few moments Tara seems satisfied that I am on the level, and I feel her gently ease out of my mind. She has a deft and careful mental touch, and I honestly appreciate her skill. A less skillful psychic can inflict a lot of pain during entry or exit of another's mind.

The sexy little vamp gives me a silent and nearly imperceptible nod. Obviously, I have passed some kind of test. She puts two fingers between her full lips before emitting a shrill whistle to gain the attention of the squabbling enforcers, again. Under less dire circumstances, the antics of the Twin Ravens enforcers would be entertaining as hell. Once they all fall silent, she takes another sip of her whisky and says; "Send the infant and the little Cajun queen to Joker's place down by Fitzhugh. I've personally warded his place. Those Ghouls can't get through my protection, even if they are able to find them way out there in Bum-Fuck Oklahoma."

Everyone starts talking at once, and I feel an icy tendril of fear grip my heart because I honestly believe this vampire is suggesting throwing me and that helpless infant to BonFreete and his band of Ghouls just because I broke her friend's heart. Well, fuck that. If I gotta face the Ghouls alone, I'll take my friends, the Spell Weavers, up on their offer. I avoided that option because I didn't want the Ghouls to follow me and take their brand of dark magic to Airendell while the veil is so thin, but I won't risk the child just because I am not welcome here.

Blood's quiet, but powerful voice cuts through the confused barrage of comments, questions, and suggestions. "Tara, that would normally work just fine. It's truly a good idea, or it would be if the child and Mistress Jenniene did not need to remain near the MC for the approaching All Hallows Eve."

My head whips around and I stare at the enforcer leader, wondering exactly what he knows about me, and how much is conjecture. But he's absolutely correct that we need to remain here. The infant will be strengthened and protected by the primeval core of benevolent magick here at the MC. As a demon shade, I must remain near a powerful and positive magickal source, and someone who cares about me during the thinning of the veil between the realms, or I will be sucked into the demon realm where I will become a full demon. That's one that thing that is so not on my to-do list.

The behemoth leader begins assigning the assembled enforcers various protection details, scouting missions, and even sends someone to shop for more baby items. Finally, he turns his attention to a Ghoul enforcer among their ranks and says; "Writhe, go with Tank and Wrath to see if you can pick up the scent of any new Ghouls. If they are in our territory, I want to know about it sooner rather than later." The Ghoul opens his mouth, apparently to question the order, when the prehistoric shifter's cell phone rings. Blood pulls the phone from his pocket and looks at the screen with obvious irritation, but he answers the call just the same.

After a stilted, monosyllabic conversation he disconnects the call and says; "Well, apparently, the clan of Ghouls seeking the child are already in Tulsa." He sighs heavily and rises to his feet. "That was one of our contacts with the police department." He looks disheartened when he shares the news, and I know instinctively this is a male who cares deeply for the mortals whom he protects. "A frat house was attacked tonight by rogue Ghouls." He looks at me to nod gravely. "Obviously, Mistress Jenniene was being truthful, because three of the students who were attacked have arisen Ghoul."

CHAPTER SIX

JOKER

Tucked into deepest shadows behind the massive staircase which leads to the private portion of the MC, I am secretly watching the woman who laid claim to my heart and soul over a century ago. Sadly, I have taken on these stalkerish tendencies because circumstances have thwarted every effort to set aside some time to have a face to face with her. But I must confess, I am completely captivated by Jenniene's beauty and totally badass persona. It's possible I'd be trailing round behind her like a puppy dog even if we had gotten that chance to clear the air between us.

Now, I'm just standing here in the shadows admirin' Jenni. At this moment, my woman is still rockin' those sexy and very snug leathers she favors for fighting. Did I mention this woman is pure-dee poetry in motion when she's got a dagger in her hands and a rogue at her throat? No? Well, she sho'nuf kicks ass and looks mighty fine doin' it, too. My Jenniene is obviously one very skilled warrior who is well accustomed to battling reprobate Immortals. Let's just say that in the past three days I've seen a side of this woman I could never have imagined before now. And I gotta admit I really like what I have seen, and want more. Much, much more.

Sadly, I can also see her bone deep weariness, and hear the worry in her voice as she discusses our rather limited options with Blood. I can't help but recall how proud I am of the woman my Jenniene has become since the time we were together in New Orleans. I met some of her friends, Spell Weavers, who are much like the Twin Ravens MC, an Immortal bastion protecting humans against those Immortals who wish them harm. Jenniene has become something of a demon hunter and vigilante enforcer, fighting against any Immortal who threatens humans in her beloved New Orleans. She has also worked tirelessly for the last three days beside my brethren here in the MC to stop the reign of terror the Ghouls and other sundry rogue Immortals have unleashed in our fair city.

Jenniene isn't the only one who feels utterly exhausted tonight. We all are. Even though we have called in reinforcements from Asgard and the Stone Breakers, we are still stretched mighty thin because the Ghouls and their cohorts. Rumors are flying that this rogue band of flesh eaters are being aided by Blood Wraiths and rogue Stone Cold vampires. Jenniene has convinced most of us that if we lose tomorrow night and these bastards get the child, this entire part of the mortal world will fall to the darker elements of the Immortal realms. Blood seems to think the entire human realm will fall shortly thereafter. So failure? Not an option.

I smirk at myself, because it seems all that was required to drag me out of my annual drunken pity party was a threat to end the world... that, and the woman I love returning from the grave. The last three days have been some of the worst and best of my life. I have worked side by side with the female destined to be my mate as the Twin Ravens have tracked down every possible lead to find and apprehend the Ghoul clan leader who has been terrorizing Tulsa since the night Jenniene and the child arrived. We have captured many of his Ghoul minions and their allies, which are being held by Hel in the Nordic underworld until they can face judgment. Despite our efforts, the leaders are still free, along with enough of their minions to successfully carry out their plot if we fail in our mission.

Tomorrow night will resolve the matter one way or another, and I fully intend to face my likely demise understanding why I spent over a hundred years mourning the death of a woman who is apparently an Immortal. Even though I have spent most of this time working side by side with my former lover tracking down rogues, we have not yet had an opportunity to talk about our history. I need to understand how she's still alive and why she sent me away all those years ago if she too is some kind of paranormal being. Tonight I am waiting patiently for her to wrap up her consultation with my mentor, because I fully intend to get my answers.

I'm not too surprised when Tara comes up silently behind me. Her gentle touch on my arm reminds me this female has been my closest friend since my arrival in Tulsa almost a century ago. The warmth of her breath so near my ear makes me shiver because it's unexpected, but even that is not as surprising as her words. "I know you need answers, Joker, and I will be the first to admit the female is a better woman than I had believed possible... But I beg you, old friend, do not give your heart too easily, again. Make sure she is indeed worthy."

My massive calloused hand covers my friend's, and I chuckle softly before addressing her concerns with all the honesty I can muster. "There's nothing left to give, Tara. My Jenniene has owned all of my heart for all these years." I turn my head to meet the worried gaze of my friend. "I need answers. I need to know how she still lives. I need to understand why she drove me away." My friend silently searches my face, likely seeking some assurance I cannot give her. After a few moments she nods stiffly before we continue to watch Jenniene and Blood in companionable silence.

Jenniene gets up from the table and walks to the bar to refill her whisky tumbler before rejoining our leader. Upon returning to the table she asks Blood, "Do you believe this is the beginning of the prophesied war that crashes the realms?"

Blood smiles wanly, and shakes his head. "No. Not yet. Soon... probably, but not just yet." The last few days have taken a heavy toll on our bad-ass leader. His expression turns especially grim when he adds; "But if we fail tomorrow night it will be bad. Very bad. We can't let the crash happen before we have the appropriate protections in place."

My mentor looks very troubled by that thought, and I wonder what prophesy they are talking about. I've never been one to put much faith in fate, visions of the future, or anything like that. Especially since my own fated mate sent me away, it occurs to me that free-will often trumps the plans of the Gods and Destiny alike. So why spend your time frettin' over some seer's visions? Yet, it seems as though Blood, the male I most admire, puts at least some stock in this particular prophesy. Perhaps I should learn more about these dire predictions.

Blood's next words distract me from my musings about the validity of fortune tellers, seers, and their predictions of doom for the earth. "Tonight you need to face your past mistakes so that they will not be repeated in the future." He looks over his shoulder and meets my gaze, even though I am well hidden in deep shadow. That's when I realize Tara is no longer at my side. Day-um. I am so focused on Jenniene, that I am blind to the rest of the world. That's one seriously dangerous state for an Immortal enforcer. "Joker deserves to know the truth. He deserves to finally find some peace in his existence, no matter what happens tomorrow night." My pretty girl nods, but doesn't say a word.

My mentor rises to his feet and smiles down at my Jenniene, before taking one of her hands into his own to give it what's likely intended to be a reassuring squeeze. Not that he needs such measures. The male just has a way of putting females at ease. They all instinctively know they can trust him... always. "Mistress Jenniene, I suggest that you stop running from whatever dark thing you believe you have become, and embrace the truth about the good you have accomplished with the gifts you've been given, as well as the good you can do in the future."

Blood motions me over with a movement of his head and Jenniene smiles warmly when I emerge from my hiding place. The love I see in her eyes nearly brings me to my knees in joyful gratitude, but it's quickly masked with a deep and dark air of guilt. She looks away from me, and slowly pulls her hand out of my leader's grasp, before she goes to the bar for more whisky. That's her fifth tumbler of Tara's good hooch tonight, and I hope it has loosened her tongue a bit.

Blood strides toward me where he smacks my shoulder and gives it a squeeze of assurance before murmuring; "Don't judge her too harshly. She had her own reasons for her actions." I can only nod. After all, what can I say to that? We all have reasons for our actions, good or bad. But I am desperate for answers. Now.

I move forward like a sleepwalker to stand beside Jenniene at the bar, where I await her revelations. She meets my imploring gaze, then quickly looks away. I can literally feel waves of regret and sadness roll off of this woman, and I want to take her into my arms to reassure her. Without thought, I reach up to toy with one of her ebony curls, but am disheartened when she pushes my hand away, muttering; "Don't. Just don't."

My spine stiffens and over a century of anger rises up in my soul at her rejection of my simple touch. Suddenly, my resolve to get some straight answers turns savage. How dare this woman deny my simple affection after the hell she has put me through? I grab her arm and force her to turn and face me. When she will not meet my gaze, I roughly tip up her chin to stare into her beautiful face. A lovely visage that is now contorted with pain that equals my own. Enough! I will have my answers. I will understand why she doomed us both to over a century of agony.

"Jenniene... how are you still alive?" I demand harshly. Might as well get the biggie out of the way up front. I've mourned this woman for so very long, nearly a hundred and fifty years. FUCK! I deserve to know the truth. She cuts her eyes away from my demanding gaze, and licks her full lips nervously. I almost smile because somethings never do change. Her mannerisms are much the same as they were when I believed her to be a young human woman. But that thought brings me up short, because obviously something did change. She changed. This woman sent me away because I was not human... and yet here she is alive and well over a century later. Plainly she, too, is not human.

"What gives?" I demand impatiently. Suddenly, knowing why this "mortal" woman who shattered my heart way back in 1872 is still alive, and apparently well, is vitally important. My very next heartbeat is dependent on hearing the truth.

"Before I explain my history, let me say... Uh... when I sent you away. That was just a gut reaction – a knee jerk response. An action born of unfounded fears and old prejudices. You told me your soul was bonded to a demon's soul and I was afraid. Deathly afraid. I acted without thinking."

Well, no way in hell am I going to give her a pass on that one. By then, we had been in love for years, she should have known the man I was. I mean really known. She should have loved me enough to see beyond the bond with the demon. Right? The uncertainty I feel in this moment is most unwelcome, so I push it aside and lash out angrily. "Bullshit, Jenniene!" I snarl. "You knew me well by the time I confessed that I share a soul with a blood demon and wolf. You professed to love me. You should have known you had nuthin' to fear from me." I swallow the bitter bile of my justified anger and whisper; "You, of all people, should have known better."

She looks anxious as hell, but there's no way I am lettin' this gal off the hook. She has a shit-load of explaining to do. After a couple of tense and silent moments, I feel my body relax just a bit when she begins explaining. "Uh... I wasn't human when we met and fell in love." That quiet admission feels like a punch to my gut. "I had not been human for decades by that point. But I was certainly in denial. I had spent years denying that I had been changed... against my will, by another man who, like yourself, was not what he had appeared to be."

A single tear rolls down her cheek and she turns her head slightly and wipes it away. I long to kiss away her tears, offer her comfort and compassion, but I just can't move. I just can't show her the kindness I long to share before I know what was truly in her heart the day she broke my own into a million pieces.

Turning back to meet my gaze, I can see the sincerity in her eyes, I can read it in her very soul. She's finally willing to reveal the real Jenniene to me. "I was a fool and a hypocrite, Zeke, and I overreacted when I sent you away. By the time I realized how badly I had screwed up, you were long gone. My big mouth and defensive nature cost me – No, both of us – far too much."

"Explain," I snarl, pleased that my voice didn't crack and reveal the inner weakness which I am desperately trying to hide. Knowing that I am not the only one who has lived an existence filled with regret and pain should be good news, but it's not. My heart aches for her suffering as much as for my own. FUCK!

"Zeke, when we met, I was much older than most folks believed. I had moved around so much, from parish to parish, that no one could recall where I came from. I was born in 1821 back in New Orleans. My given name was Jenniene Marie Xavier. My Maman was a femme traiteur who had been trained by Madame Laveau."

I physically flinch and drop my hand from her face at this revelation. Madame Laveau is the undisputed queen of Voodoo practitioners. And Voodoo is something I was trained at a very young age to avoid, even though my own mother was a femme traiteur, a practitioner of magickal healing arts often closely associated with Voodoo. Suddenly, I think I understand what she meant when Jenni said sending me away was just a gut reaction. Voodoo, and its practitioners, engender strong reactions from denizens of the south, and so does the very mention of demons. Many from that era and locale understood there was much more to the world than what the mortal eye could see. And that knowledge leads me to wonder exactly what Jenniene and her mother were into before I met her.

I open my mouth to question what kind of "healing arts" her mother practiced when Jenniene continues telling me her history. "I was sixteen years old when I fell in love with a Creole scoundrel and gambler named Alexandre. I was too young and foolish to realize that he was also a demon who desired to make me into a Demon Shade – to bind my soul to his own – so that I would never die, never leave him behind. He was quite obsessed with keeping me by his side. Fortunately, my Maman suspected he was truly evil, and went to her mentor for help. Madame Leveau rescued me from Alexandre before he could finish the rites to change me completely. Because of Madame Leveau's intervention I was forever changed but not fully under the demon's control. I kept my free will."

Jenniene scrubs her hands over her face, and suddenly I can see indisputable evidence of the toll that protecting the shifter cub and tracking down the rogues has taken on her... body, mind, and soul. This female is utterly exhausted, and weary in the very depths of her being. My heart goes out to her, but some mule-headed part of my makeup won't let me reach out to comfort her or let her off the hook. Instead, I stand there, outwardly stoic, as I await the rest of her explanation.

"I loved Alexandre..." she blushes prettily when a low growl emanates from deep in my chest and my inner wolf wants to rip this unknown Alexandre to shreds. Yeah, the snarly fucker is feelin' jealous, too. "...at least I thought I did at the time." She shakes her head as though not entirely certain of her feelings. "Perhaps it was simply girlish infatuation. Who knows? But whatever my feelings for him in the beginning, they changed dramatically once I understood what he was doing to me." She shallows hard as though the next admission is painful. "Alexandre was trying to take away my humanity against my will."

My pretty Jenni searches my face, looking for what? Understanding? Acceptance? I don't know, but all I can do is wait for the rest of the story. She licks her lips again before continuing. "Zeke, I was born and raised a Catholic. I am still devout in my faith." I nod because I knew this about Jenniene. "I could never have willingly surrendered my soul for Alexandre or any man. Madame Laveau had no choice but to destroy him. To send him back to whatever hell he came from. But it some odd and twisted way, I mourn him still, even if he was a fils de putain."

I almost smile at her calling her lover a son of a bitch, but the revelation that she mourns him cuts to the bone. Logically, I know that feeling is probably a byproduct of the bond, but my inner beasts don't give a shit about logic. The wolf in my soul rises up angrily. Jenniene is MINE and should not care about another male enough to mourn his death after all of these years. She laughs harshly and continues her narrative, wholly unaware of my struggle with my inner beasts. "Because I was a foolish young girl who fell for a male with preternatural charm and good looks, I had become something that has never existed before me, and will probably never exist again. I am not fully human. I am not a full Shade, nor am I fully demon. I really have no idea what the hell I am." She reaches up and grips her hair with both hands as though wanting to pull it out by the roots. I can feel her frustration and unrest. "Zeke, I really don't even know if I still possess a human soul."

The raw fear and pain of her admission grips my heart in steel talons. Before I can even think, my hand shoots out to cup her lovely face tenderly. "Oh bébé joli, of course you still have a soul. And it's beautiful. I've always been able to see it, feel it... Everyone can."

She nods and reaches over to cup my face in an equally tender gesture. "Zeke, I saw your soul, too. All those years ago, I knew you were a good man. I knew you possessed a good soul, but I let fear and prejudice make me send you away. I let my mother's belief that any soul touched by a demon becomes tainted and irredeemable. I believed a demon tainted soul is condemned to serve darkness. I allowed my mother's opinions to convince me that I was only seeing what I wanted to see in you. I was afraid that I had foolishly trusted in another bad man with a beautiful face and boatload of charm."

She closes her eyes for a moment and I am drawn in by her gentle fingers caressing my nape, as her hand moves to the back of my neck, and up to stroke the bristly scruff of hair which is beginning to grow out much more than I like. I've spent too many days hiding in a bottle of rum, and then searching for Ghouls to take the time to shave my head, as is my normal habit.

The next words that come out of my beloved's mouth drive all thoughts of shaving and typical routines from my mind. "Could you find it in your heart to someday forgive me for being a scared little girl? For being a judgmental ass?"

She smiles shakily and finally opens her eyes to seek my own. The sincerity and hard won wisdom I see in the depths of those gorgeous topaz eyes rocks me figuratively back on my heels. This female has grown and changed so much in the time we have been apart. Her words confirm that assessment. And yet, I am still hangin' onto ancient hurts which keep the words of forgiveness and acceptance that I long to utter buried deep inside my conflicted heart.

Apparently, my lack of a response prompts Jenniene to say more. "If living this long has taught me nothing else, I have certainly learned that most things are not exactly what they appear to be on the surface." I almost smile at that one. I, too, have long ago learned not to put much stock in appearances.

She smiles wanly and in that moment, I know I'm hurtin' her by remaining so distant. I want to reach out and give her comfort, but I just can't... not yet. Maybe never. I'm feelin' so raw inside and I am afraid I will lash out. "I have also learned to trust my own instincts, not my old fears, which make me judge people and situations from a somewhat puritanical and narrow mortal perspective." A wicked little fire flares momentarily in her eyes before she whispers; "We both know I was neither truly pure nor human back then. I sure as hell hope I have grown a bit in nearly a century and a half."

My continued silence is driving a new wedge between us. I recognize that fact and yet, I do nothing. A subtle shift occurs between us and a dry chuckle escapes her lush lips before she slowly removes her hand from my neck to step away. Her tone becomes wooden, and her posture aloof. "I've seen way too much since those days to judge anyone without knowing the facts." Her wan and distant smile pricks my heart, and yet I remain unmoved and silent.

"The facts before me now tell me you are a good man who has figurative demons riding his soul, as well as a literal demon sharing real estate at the heart of your very being." A great sadness and sense of remorse radiates from my former beloved. "Sadly, I am likely one of those figurative demons that has tortured you for centuries, no?"

I nod. Fuck, there's no sense denyin' the plain truth. "Yes," she agrees. "I have much to answer for in that regard."

She turns to the bar to pick up the tumbler of whisky. After draining the glass, she slaps it down on the bar to refill it from the 21-year-old bottle of Macallan single malt Scotch whisky. I have to smirk cause she's downing that stuff like water. Tara, master bar-keep and my fellow enforcer, would be affronted at her top shelf hooch being disrespected in such a manner. After draining her sixth or seventh tumbler, she literally smacks her lips in appreciation. "Breena would approve," she says quietly.

I wonder who the fuck Breena is, because I've heard Jenniene and those Spell Weavers who came to offer us support mention this woman, but I let it go for now. I have a much bigger gator to wrestle than wondering who some broad might be to my woman. My woman? Since when, Joker? She made it clear a long assed time ago, that you are nothing to her.

My anger over her past rejection returns, white hot and vicious. Over a century's worth of futile ire spills out of my very soul and I snarl at my mate; "So what now, Jenni? What in hell do you expect from me?"

I can feel her energy bristle at my tone. There's that backbone! She's gone ram-rod stiff now. This lil' Cajun Queen, she won't tolerate dat shit for long. No way. My inner demon is rubbing his hands together in anticipation of a good row with our female. He always enjoyed fightin' with my bébé joli, because the fights always led to amazing angry sex and sweet ministrations afterwards. I tell the little fucker to cool his jets, cuz there's no way in hell that's gonna happen now. I'm not layin' a hand on dis woman till I am sure she's gonna stick around. No way. No how.

Instead, I impassively watch as she calmly sets the glass down and turns to face me. "Nuthin', JOKER. Not a godsdamned thing. I have no right to expect anything from you or anyone here. But Blood has promised to help protect the child. We can't afford to fail the child." Suddenly, the lines of exhaustion carve deep grooves in her otherwise flawless face. "I will remain in Tulsa until we have eliminated the threat. After that..." Her words trail off and she shrugs slightly. "I'm the one who wronged you, so tell me, what do you want, Zeke?"

I stare into her much loved face for several long moments as I wrestle with what I want and what I think I deserve. I desire a second chance with my beloved, but my inner demon insists I am not worthy. An epic struggle rages in my heart, but I know all Jenniene sees is the mask I wear for all the world to see. I suspect she only sees the male who seems to live in the moment, wanting nothing more than a good time, a chance to kick ass now and then, and chase tail. There's so much more to me than that, but in this moment I have no words. I am mute. Frozen behind a wall of deafening silence that spells the end of all of our hopes.

After a couple of minutes of my stupefied mute routine, she moves to sit on a barstool and leans tiredly against the bar before pouring another three fingers of Tara's hooch. After draining the glass, she meets my eyes across the distance, physical and emotional, which separates us. "Zeke, I didn't explain myself because I was seeking your forgiveness." She smiles sadly and I can plainly see the immense burden that's been on her shoulders for all these years. "Don't get me wrong, forgiveness would be nice, but I just don't believe it's gonna happen." I can see she believes the words coming out of her mouth. "There's no justification for what I did. I denied our love, I denied you, out of fear and ignorance. I was a chicken-shit bitch. That's unforgivable."

She stands from the stool, wobbles a bit before reaching out to steady herself by grasping the bar top. I can't help but wonder if it's the hooch or her utter exhaustion making her waver. I want to go offer physical support, but my pride and uncertainty keep me rooted in place. "I've spent my entire life seeking redemption for being a stupid and trusting girl when I met Alexandre." She laughs harshly. "Honestly, I don't even believe in redemption for myself any longer, but protecting those who need it has just become a way of life."

She looks at something behind me and says; "So, as long as there is breath in my body, that's what I'm gonna do. I promised a dying mortal girl dat I would protect le bébé. So that's what I am a gonna do." I smile at the Cajun I hear in her speech. She's like me in that way, strong emotions and too much hooch bring out the old way of speaking. "When le enfant is safe, I go home. Back to my bayou to chase rogue demons and vamps. I'll darken your life no more." Her words carry the weight of a promise, and I long to speak out, to say that's not what I want. But pride, anger, and hurt have frozen my tongue.

"Come along, Mistress Jenniene, Sunny is awake and I think she is looking for you. Besides that girl, you need to rest if you are going to help us keep the little kitten safe." Blood's booming voice coming from behind me damn near makes me jump outta my skin. That ancient muther-fucker is spooky as hell. Not many can sneak up on me like he just did. But then again, all of my attention was on Jenni.

Jenniene searches my face for a long moment, but when I don't even twitch, she gives me a resolute nod before wobbling away to join my boss and mentor. I watch as he offers his arm, which she accepts graciously. My anger is on a slow simmer as I watch my friend assist my exhausted and intoxicated mate up the stairs to her room. The rising territorial feelings that are stirring around in my gut make me want to push my friend away from my woman.

Fuck, dumbass, there ya go again. She's not your woman. She made that clear as fine crystal over a century ago, and she sure as fuck didn't deny it tonight. Dat female, she don' belong to you. Not then, not now, not ever!
CHAPTER SEVEN

JENNIENE

Once I have kissed the baby goodnight, whom the MC members have begun calling Sunny, I stagger to my room to sleep off the expensive whisky I had swilled like water on an empty stomach. I giggle drunkenly at my own stupidity because I will probably feel like shit on a hot tin roof come morning. I shrug, and giggle again. After I strip out of my fighting leathers and boots, I flop across the bed wearing nothing but my bra and panties. Deep sleep, the kind which only truly exhausted bodies experience, quickly overtakes me, but not before I take a moment to appreciate the fact that Tara's fine whisky kept me mellow while I bared my blackened soul to Zeke. It was worth it, even if it will cost me one helluva hang-over in the morning.

* * * *

Bold rays of mid-morning light invade my sanctuary between the slats of the ancient blinds that cover the windows. The persistent glare filters through my closed eye lids, and the call to meet a new day pushes the slumber I crave just out of my reach. No! I wanna sleep. I know I am behaving like a lazy child refusing to leave dream land, but I know once I open my eyes, it's the beginning of the end. If we are victorious tonight, I will go home – alone. If we fail, no one has a chance at a happy ending. Either way, today will be my last day to be in Zeke's presence. Yeah, being awake right now really sucks ass.

Deliberately keeping my eyes closed, and breathing even to avoid the painful onslaught of a new day on what promises to bring an epic hangover, I slowly open myself to wakefulness. Immediately, I am filled with the certain knowledge that I am not alone in my room. The big unanswered question; Is my visitor friend or foe? After a tense moment awaiting an attack, a peal of genuine feminine laughter surrounds me as it fills the entire room with very unwelcome cheerfulness.

"I know you are awake, demon girl." Tara's sultry voice and taunting tone send prickles of annoyance down my spine. I groan my irritation at being awakened in this manner. This chick is so not who I want to deal with on top of a hangover. I'm pretty sure I know exactly what awaits me when I open my eyes. Tara is either going to attack or give me the "Get the Hell out of Dodge" speech. Either way, she's only looking out for Zeke, so I fully intend to let her do whatever she needs to do. It's obvious after Zeke's reaction last night that no one truly wants me here. Once I know the child is safe, I'm gonna high-tail it back to New Orleans. I may not have much of a life there, but at least back home, only the bad guys despise the very sight of me.

Pity party for one? Yeah, that sounds about right.

I sigh softly, dreading what's coming, but knowing it's inevitable. The realization that this female will likely spend centuries living and working around my male, my fated mate, yet I will not even be a fond memory, is disheartening. Jeez, Jenniene, just let the vamp have her say, or get her licks in. Whatever she needs to do to you to feel like she's doing her duty as friend to your mate.

No matter her intent, my path is set. Once Sunny is safe, neither Zeke nor anyone else here at the Twin Ravens will ever have to give me a second thought. Maybe it's time to take Breena up on her offer to hang out at a villa on the Italian Riviera. Maybe spending my days with Breena's amazing family and my nights with some random, sexy Immortal Enforcers is just what I need to get over losing my last thread of hope for a life with my one true mate.

I am so deeply involved in my mental pity party that at first the words coming out of the vampire's mouth don't even register. "Blah, blah, blah..." Tara's mocking tone is jarring, but not really hateful. I groan loudly and roll over to face her where she sits in the bedside chair. "You need to learn to erect better mental shields before you go to sleep, little girl. You are easier to read right now than a Dick and Jane reader."

I roll my eyes and sit up slowly, fully expecting the hangover to hit me like a ton of bricks just any second. Tara's musical chortle captures my attention. "I always charm my good whisky to prevent hangovers." She smirks knowingly at me. "So, you're welcome."

I can't help but smile in return at the snarky vamp sitting in my room as I move cautiously to sit cross-legged on the bed. I'm not feeling any symptoms of a hangover yet, and the vamp said I won't, but I haven't lived this long by taking things at face value. "What can I do for you, Tara?" After a few seconds pass, I realize I am truly experiencing zero hangover symptoms. I grin happily at my visitor and say; "Thank you. By all rights I should be hugging the porcelain throne right about now."

Her answering giggle is truly infectious and wholly unexpected. Oddly, I find I am caught up in the vamp's apparent good mood. But I do need to pee something fierce, so I realize I need to find out what the vamp wants so that I can go take care of that little matter without being overly rude.

She laughs again and says; "Go answer the call of nature. We have a few very important things to discuss, and I do not want your attention on your neglected bodily functions." She shudders as though experiencing a deep sense of revulsion. "I can honestly say I do not miss that part of being human." I can't help but grin when she makes air quotes as she says the word human. With a nod I slide off the bed and head for the bathroom to give nature her due and brush my teeth. Spelled whisky or not, my mouth still feels like Sherman marched to the sea across my tongue and gums... several times. YUCK!

Upon my return, I am pleasantly surprised to find a tray containing a steaming carafe of my favorite chicory spiked coffee and a light breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, and sliced fruit on a tray waiting for me. After giving voice to my thanks, I tuck into the repast with vigor and don't address my guest again until I have drained my first cup of coffee and eaten half of my breakfast.

Once I have taken the edge off of my morning hunger I face the vamp and say; "So I gather you went digging around in my head while I slept?" The sexy vampire witch only grins contentedly and nods. I don't like it, but what can I say? I was the one who was dumb enough to get so wasted that I forgot to set my shields before sleep. I already knew what she was capable of and had no reason to believe she would respect my right to privacy. "And?"

The tiny dynamo rises from the chair and joins me where I am again sitting cross legged on the bed. "Yours wasn't the only mind I snooped through this morning." Honestly, I am blown away by her blatant admission, but I wait patiently to hear what else she has to say for herself. "I also paid my pal, Joker, a visit. And you might as well know I listened in to your little heartfelt confession-fest last night." I open my mouth to let her know exactly how much I despise eavesdroppers, but her next words shut me up, instantly.

"Yes, little girl, you still have a soul. A vibrant, beautiful, loving, and strong soul of a born guardian. The heritage you gained from your mother is rich in earth magic, and has made you quite powerful as the years have passed. However, you are bound to that demon." I feel sickened at that confirmation. Tara smiles indulgently and says; "But that's not entirely a bad thing. Demons are hard as hell to kill. The most we can hope to accomplish on this plane of existence is to send them back to whatever hell realm they were spawned from."

She pauses a moment to let those little morsels sink in. A wave of sick dread washes over me because I feel as though she has just confirmed my worst fear. I am bound to that demon – I am a part of him, our lives forever connected. I shudder in revulsion. Obviously, the witch is still reading my thoughts. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, lil' sista, he has no power whatsoever over you." Her words are reassuring, but I wonder what our connection means. "The only way that demon can affect you is if he meets his true death. At such a time, you, too, will die. But until that happens, you are in the driver's seat of what is likely to be a very long life."

The relief I feel upon learning I still have a soul is overshadowed by the unwelcome news that I might very well turn out to be a true Immortal. The prospect of living for eons on end without Zeke in my life is truly untenable. Hell, even the prospect of living that long with him joined to me at the hip isn't what I would truly want for my life. Sentient beings just aren't wired for that kind of longevity. Boredom, disappointment, regrets, pain, and loss all color our personalities and affect our actions. I wonder just how bad the accumulative effect an unbearably long life of loneliness would have on a soul. I find these countless possibilities more than I want contemplate. I sigh softly and nod wordlessly, while I frantically struggle to come to terms with this revelation.

I am not sure how long we sit in silence while I wallow around in a putrid sludge of self-pity, worry, and regret. Tara apparently takes pity on me and says; "He loves you. He always has. Last night he was just stuck in the muck and mire of the misery that has been his life ever since you banished him from your life."

I feel that unwelcome tightness in my throat and the slight burning sensation in the back of my eyes, that usually indicates I am about to cry. Oh hell no, I am not going to cry in front of this one. No way. No how.

Tara's unbridled laughter distracts me enough to stem the unrelenting tide of deep sorrow and remorse that followed her reminder of just how badly I have hurt the man I love. "Suck it up, Butter Cup. I told ya that I went snoopin' in his head, too." I nod because she did indeed openly admit to entering Zeke's mind as well. I remind myself to teach him how to protect his thoughts from powerful psychics like Tara, at some unidentified future time.

Her lovely features suddenly soften to reveal a gentler version of the woman I have come to grudgingly respect over the last few days. "Last night, he just a moment to catch his breath, Jenniene. Joker's barely been treading water from the moment you walked through the front door of the clubhouse. As you can well imagine, it's a bit unexpected and overwhelming to have your one true love come back from the great beyond. You were fully aware that he was alive and well here in Tulsa for some time, but Zeke reasonably believed that you were long dead."

She dusts imaginary crumbs from her leather pants and says; "Add all the freaks that come out of the preternatural wood pile as All Hallows Eve approaches, and the mayhem these shitty Ghouls have brought to our hometown, and it's a perfect shit-storm of misery for everyone here. Of course he needs a moment to come to terms with it all."

She surprises me when she reaches out to clasp my hand in her own and give it a reassuring squeeze. "He will come around. He will forgive you and be willing to try again with you. I'd stake my entire stock of Macallan Scotch on it." I can't help but chuckle at that qualification. I haven't known this female long, but I have quickly learned just how very much she values her top shelf liquor.

The bossy little vamp proceeds to pat my knee like we are old friends before quipping, "Now hop in the shower to wash the Ghoul guts and gray matter out of your hair before you slip into that male's room and let him know you'd be willing to stick around for him after things calm down around here." She cocks an eyebrow at me and adds; "Last night you basically said you couldn't leave Tulsa behind fast enough. I think you said that because you expected scorn and rejection from Joker and the rest of the MC. But I believe your Zeke will be open to other options." She grins happily and adds; "The rest of us fools don't matter. Just you and your man." Before I can form any words to reply, she's whisked the tray from my lap and left the room.

****

After showering, I don an old tank top and a pair of boxer shorts, both of which would probably look better on a less Rubenesque female figure, but I just don't give a rat's ass. This is me, nice round hips, soft belly, thunder thighs, and all. Honestly, my appearance has only changed superficially since the days Zeke and I were together, so I doubt my choice of attire will prove to be a turn off. In fact, judging by a couple of appreciative leers I received from his fellow enforcers while en route to Zeke's room, I'd say that I rock the look these men appreciate.

But my confidence takes a massive header when I find myself standing before his closed door. I don't hear any sounds coming from within, leaving me to wonder if he's still sleeping or has already gone downstairs in search of food or news about the Ghoul encroachment into Tulsa. Suddenly, I realize I am not truly worried whether or not he's out or asleep... I simply have no clue what the hell I'm going to say to the man this morning. I confessed my darkest sins to him last night, and he simply stood there impassive, like I was talking about something that didn't even affect him directly. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

My nerve finally deserts me, and I have turned to slink back to my room when the door to Zeke's room is suddenly opened in my wake. I freeze and scramble to gather the last vestiges of my now elusive courage, which had initially brought me to this point. Eventually, I turn to find my Zeke filling the doorway with all his masculine glory. Without conscious thought or intent, my gaze travels from his smirking and oh so kissable mouth, over the darker tone of his perfectly tantalizing skin, sculpted and well-defined muscles of his bulging biceps, deliciously bite-able pecs, and especially over that deeply grooved six-pack of abdominal muscles that sport a sparse black and curly happy little trail which leads into... neon pink boxer briefs which sport none other than Betty Boop?

Really? Betty Boop?

I don't even try to stop the delighted giggle that bursts through my lips at the sight of the quintessential vintage hootchie-mama adorning the drawers of my man. Yep, my man. Goofy drawers and all, I have no intention of letting him get away. Never again. I corral and fortify some previously untapped store of bravery, before marching up to stand toe to toe with the nearly naked café au lait Adonis, in truly tasteless underwear. "Nice briefs," I murmur when his warm and inviting smile tears down the last crumbling brick of my internal defenses.

"Don't dis the Boop, now gal. Betty is one truly fine example of modern womanhood." His tone is playful, but the all-seeing, dark chocolate gaze devouring me is lustful and ravenous. He grasps the back of my neck and pulls me to him for a kiss. Kiss is such an inadequate and paltry word to describe what this male does to my mouth. His lips, tongue, and teeth conquer, devour, and dominate me so completely that I quite suddenly find myself weak in the knees. But his strong arm around my waist doesn't allow me to escape his wanton ravishment so easily.

As he slows the kiss, I am reluctant for it to ever end. In fact, I crave more. Despite my fervor matching his own, I yelp my surprise when a fang deliberately nicks my lower lip. Zeke eagerly sucks the droplets of my blood from the tiny wound. Surprisingly, I can only moan my pleasure. But my pitiful sounds are drowned out by his growls of ecstasy.

The sexy as sin rumble of his deep voice vibrates against my swollen lips when he murmurs sinfully about my taste. "Dat's right. Dat's what you sue-posed to taste like." I giggle because he's slipped into his old Cajun patois once again. After another brief moment of tasting my blood, he pulls back to look into my eyes. "Jenniene, I've thought about every single thing you said last night. I've dissected every word you uttered and milked every single nuance of expression, sound, and body language from our little heart to heart. And probably just as important, I have recalled everything I have observed since you walked through the front door of my MC, and baby, I gotta tell ya, I want you. I have never wanted you more. But I don't just want you in my bed or as a friend. I want you as my one true mate from now until these demon-bound bodies of ours give up the ghost."

I can only grin like an idiot and nod. He returns my goofy smile with an equally stupid-happy expression before quickly turning somber. My heart stutters in my chest. Yeah, and here comes the BUT... Despite my pessimistic outlook, his next words maintain my fragile hope. "Jenniene, listen to this though, baby. I want ya, and Lord willing I'm gonna have ya. But, I'm done with holding back and hiding who I am. Being with me now won't be like it was back in the day. You understand?"

I can only nod tentatively. I know he must have hidden a great deal from me before when he was keeping his secret, but I am wondering if I truly have a clue exactly what he kept from me. I quickly realize it just doesn't matter. I've seen so much and survived so much over the intervening years that I am much better able to cope than before. More importantly, I know Zeke's heart. Whatever ways the wolf and demon manifest themselves in my male's personality and physical needs, there's no way on God's earth I'm gonna walk away from him without honestly trying to be what we were fated to be for each other. I won't waste the blessing this male is meant to be to me and the world at large. I fully intend to embrace the entire package.

Apparently, he sees my resolve because he reaches out to tenderly trace my jawline with his fingertips before he continues to speak. I barely resist the temptation to smirk, because it seems our private confession time has reconvened in the very public hallway of the MC's clubhouse, because he begins to reveals the origins of his condition. "My maman used her magic to bind my very soul to a feral wolf and blood demon to protect me when I was gonna hang for killing that sadistic overseer." His face hardens at the memory as he explains further. "That nasty bit of white trash was my sire. That man was evil personified. He raped my maman when she was just a young thing and put me in her belly. And every day after that he did his best to find a new way to torture her."

I reach up to cup Zeke's beloved face, again, because I can hear the old pain that hasn't faded, even after all these years. He's hurting and I need to sooth him. I want to offer him comfort and a connection to me. I need to let him know he's never going to be truly alone ever again. When Zeke turns his head and sweetly plants a chaste kiss in the palm of my hand, I practically melt into a puddle of goo on the floor at our feet. "That last day I was a slave... he jes' went too far, mon cher. Jes' too far. I had to stop him raping and beating those po' folks who was under his thumb."

He chuckles dryly. The sound isn't pleasant and speaks of a true darkness when he says; "I felt like Moses that day. I was bound and determined to get my people out from under that tyrant's dominion." He reaches up and scrubs his face hard with both hands before finishing his confession. I silently allow my hands to rest at my sides while I wait for him to confess what he likely sees as his darkest sin. "I beat that bastard to death with my bare hands, and I savored every second of it. I found justification in each blow I landed, every bone I shattered, and every organ I eviscerated." He closes his eyes as though recalling each blow. When he opens them again I see true regret shining there. "I wasn't in some fugue state where I wasn't aware of my actions." Zeke shakes his head emphatically. "I was fully aware and completely deliberate in every action that day. I took a life with malice aforethought and deadly intent."

Silence descends as I wait for him to continue, but it quickly becomes plain he's bared his deepest, darkest secret and I relieved there's nothing else. He smiles sadly, as though dreading my reaction. "It was murder, plain and simple, Jenni. Your fated mate is not only bound to a demon and a wolf by magick, but I'm also a self-confessed murderer." I simply nod to convey I understand what he's telling me. Oddly, I feel no trepidation nor judgment at his confession. It simply is what it is. Sometimes, evil forces us to take actions we would normally find impossible or abhorrent. I know I've done things I never thought I would, all in the name of protecting others. And I know in my heart of hearts, Zeke killed that man to save his mother, and others.

After a few minutes of silent evaluation. Apparently he realizes there will be no condemnation from me over his confession. He smiles almost shyly before he reaches down to grasp my hands and tugs me into his room, slamming the door behind us. "Git in here, gal. I gots more you need to know about me before you decide if you wanna stay with me or go back to New Awlins, all by your lonesome."
CHAPTER EIGHT

JOKER

She squeals in surprise when I toss her sweet, sexy ass on my bed. I push the twisted bedcovers, evidence of my sleepless night, onto the floor with a careless shove. With practiced skill, I grasp my Jenniene's hands and pin them over her head, as I cover her body with my own, seemingly putting her at my mercy. I'm probably a damn fool, but I can't help the knowing smirk on my lips when my woman doesn't put up much of a struggle. I've watched her take down Ghouls and Vamps over the last few days and I know she's not some shrinking violet. If I'm pinning her down so easily, it's because she's allowing it.

Staring at my female, my brain is befuddled by her beauty. I've yearned for this woman for so many fucking years. A vain longing, I had believed hopeless, and yet Fate has given me a second chance. I gather both of her hands into one of my own and begin to caress her face tenderly. My dark finger tips trace down her pale throat, over her flawless chest, to trail even lower to tease the swelling flesh of the rounded globes of her breasts, bared by the deep cut neckline of her top. I want to strip her bare, devour these hidden treasures, before I fuck her into submission, and I fully intend to do exactly that... as soon as I am sure she understands exactly what she's getting with me. I have no intention of letting this female get away from me. Never again. But I have to clear some shit up between us before that can happen. It doesn't matter if that happens today or six months from now... but we will clear the air and find our way back to each other.

My voice is low and gravelly from suppressed emotion, and I feel like a pansy ass for allowing my uncertainty and need to show so plainly. The old Joker, maybe even the old Zeke, would just assume she wants me because she showed up at my door, we'd already be fuckin' like rabbits. But fuck that. There's no room in our future for assuming with this woman. I won't fuck this up. "When you walked through the MC's front door, like a spirit arisen from a cold grave, I had to wonder if you were gonna be my salvation or my doom, mon amour." I tug thoughtfully on an ebony curl as I stare into her beautiful fathomless eyes. I need to know the truth from her own precious lips, so I ask her outright; "What's happenin' here, la bien-aimée? You stickin' with Joker for the long haul or is this just a trip down memory lane?"

She bites her bottom lip, looking thoughtful, before retorting; "Hell, I guess that will depend on whether or not Joker plans on hiding from me like he did back in New Awlins." The way she sneers my club name makes it plain she doesn't think much of the "new me". I can't say I blame her much. I've not been the male I should be, but it's not too late to fix that.

"What you see right now is what you get," I assure her quietly.

I can see she's skeptical. "Well, you hid your true self from me before..." She frowns prettily and I barely suppress the urge to sooth the furrow that mars her brow. "I get the feeling you haven't shown anyone the real you for a very long time, if ever."

I don't deny that accusation because I did hide my secret from her before, and I have hidden behind this made-up persona of the devil-may-care rascal that everyone calls the Joker. But I've never really hidden the man I am on inside from her. And right now, I am baring my entire soul, black marks and all, for her acceptance. I must make her understand that.

My lips form a grim line as I shake my head in denial. "No, sugar, I did not hide my true self from you. Not really." I rise up quickly to my knees beside her on the bed. I need to break our physical connection so that we are both thinking clearly. The lust and longing we are both experiencing will only cloud matters in this moment.

I exhale slowly and sit on my feet as I drag my hands over the bristly scruff on my scalp, and absently remind myself that I really need to take the time to shave my head. I miss the smooth feeling when I rub my own head in deep thought or just to give myself a moment to arrange my truths into cogent thoughts. Shaking my head to clear away all distractions, I look down at the woman lying in my bed. I have loved her for so many, many years and I can't help but smile happily at the sight of her here. In this moment, I realize that I've got one shot to get this right. One shot to convince her that trusting in the man I have become isn't a bad bet. I exhale slowly to calm my racing heart and inner beasts.

"Chér, it's true that I hid the fact that my soul had been touched by a demon and that I needed blood to survive." I continue in a steady, quiet voice. "Uh...Yeah, and I failed to mention the small fact I shift into a massive brown wolf at will..." I give her my best self-deprecating smile.

I groan inwardly. Crap, I really did keep a lot from her way back when. It's no wonder she didn't trust me and sent me away when she learned my secrets. She had secrets of her own, some inner voice reminds me bitterly. But those secrets didn't change the woman she was on the inside, and I need to make her see the same is true for me. I need to regain her trust, make her see that despite the things I kept hidden, I have always let her see the parts of me that counted most. "But the important stuff, the things about me that really matter, the man I am on in the inside, my hopes, my dreams, my values... those things I shared eagerly with you and only you. I shared my heart and the real Zeke with only you, Jenniene. And those things haven't changed. Never doubt that."

I can see her mind is working furiously to evaluate every syllable I have uttered, searching for any deception or misdirection. There simply isn't any deceit or ploy to be found. I'm laying it all out for my woman. Joker doesn't have any wild cards in this hand. I'm showin' the hand I was dealt... straight up. "This smart-ass, loud-mouth, hard-partying guy I show the world... this Joker mask I wear for the world... that's not the face I show you, Jenniene. You see me. The real man behind all the bullshit. You always have. You always will."

She rises up to kneel before me on my king size bed, making sure she has my complete attention before speaking again. "Okay, so this is the real Zeke." I nod. Now it's her turn to look a bit sheepish. "Well, you aren't the only one who had secrets back then," Jenniene whispers thickly as though tears are clogging her throat. I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders at her admission. I'm prayin' this means she's ready to wipe the slate clean and try again... with me. With all our hidden truths finally laid bare to each other.

Without saying another word, she reaches out to take one of my hands into her own. I eagerly entwine our fingers as I search her face. We sit there searching each other's souls for several silent moments before she lies back down on the bed, tugging me down to join her. Again, I cover her body with my own before leaning down to kiss her tenderly. I need her to feel our connection, to crave it as much as I do, because we haven't sorted all our shit out yet. Not by a long shot. But this feels like a really good beginning.

Her nearness calls out to me; man, beast, and demon alike. I crave this woman as much as I crave blood or giving my beast free reign to roam the night. I need her and I want her to know that. Rocking my hips a bit so she can feel my hard cock pressing into her soft belly, I point out the obvious. "You do this to me, bébé. I still want you. That hasn't changed. It'll never change. But there's more than the hot and naughty sex we used to enjoy together that I need from you. I need to know you are in it all the way this time." I won't survive it if she freaks out again and leaves me on my ass. Pushing ahead, I decide to drop the big blood red elephant we've been ignoring into the middle of our little tête–à–tête. "You know I need to feed. Regularly."

I can see she's struggling to process this even though it's something she has known about my need for blood for a long time. I guess knowing a thing, and truly facing all of the ramifications of such a truth, are not always easy to reconcile. As I search the depths of her lovely eyes for a clue as to what she's thinking, I find myself wondering if it's the blood I need to survive, or the commitment I need from her that's giving her pause.

I can't change the fact that I need blood, but I can assure her of our connection and my devotion to her. "You are mine, mon amour, just as I am yours." I lean in and nip her bottom lip. I want a real taste, but I have to wait. I need her total consent, I need to know she really wants me, despite all my fucked up bullshit. "Always have been yours, always will be. The two of us are connected; heart, body, and soul – for good or ill, it's fait accompli, a done deal. I'll never knowingly let you down." I grin wickedly and pour on the Cajun patois; "You's stuck with me, bébé."

My satisfaction soars when she returns my grin and nods her agreement. Eagerly, I forge ahead. Time to help her face my demon side and all that it entails. "I usually put off feeding longer than I should." My brow furrows at my old frustration. "Hell, amour, I hate that I even need it. But that's a fact of my existence that I just can't change. And in dangerous times like we are facing right now, I need to feed daily. Regular feedings keep me strong and I won't fail my brethren or that kid cuz I'm not as strong and fast as I should be. And I sure as hell won't let you down."

I'm chagrined over admitting my need for blood, because it has always felt like a black mark on my character or a weakness I should be able to overcome – if I were only strong enough. But at this point, there's no running from what I am any more. I need to lay all my cards on the table. My beloved will either accept me as I am or walk out of my life.

If I am being honest with myself, it's a relief to face what I am, the mistakes I have made, and to share it with Jenniene. It feels cathartic to expose all the skeletons in my closest for my female. "I did a piss poor job of dealing with your rejection." I feel her slight flinch and I want to assure her I'm not casting accusations. Now is the time for honesty, not recriminations. "Sugar, I've taken to some bad behavior to cope over the last century or so, and that's on me. I made those choices. But learning you are still alive has made those nasty habits distasteful to me. I've made a point of pulling my head out of my ass, and laying off the hooch for the last three days. It feels right, natural, like coming back to my genuine self. I'm finally focused on doin' my job as an Immortal Enforcer instead of wallowing in the past."

There's no mistaking the resolve in my voice when I continue speaking. "No more half-assed shit, bébé. I need to be at my strongest right now, so I can protect you and that kid." I lick my lips, feeling a bit nervous over my next admission. "That's why I've been feeding every day since you arrived with all that nasty trouble chasin' your purty lil' tail. I need to be at full strength."

She searches my face and asks; "Club girls? You've been fucking and feeding from them while I was under the same roof?" Her expression is neutral, but I can sense the tension in her body. I can hear the incredulity and the hurt coloring her voice despite her efforts to hide those feelings from me.

I don't like the idea of her hurting, but I'd be a lying muther-fucker if I claimed to not be relieved. This stuff wouldn't bother her one little bit if she didn't still want me as much as I want her. If she didn't still feel our connection, she wouldn't care who I had sex with or fed from. But I can't let her hurt over this. "I've only fed from the wrist of my donors since I discovered you still lived, bébé." Her relief is obvious, and gives me encouragement... hope.

"Jenniene, I promise there's been no fuckin' around with other women when the only woman I want, have ever wanted, is alive and well, in the same city as me. No way, no how." She seems to consider this for a moment before she gives me a nod of acceptance. "If you decide to be with me, mon amour, there will never be any other women, got that? Not for blood, and sure as hell not for sex. If you decide you can accept me as I am, you'll be the only female I'll ever need."

"So, you only want to feed from me?" She sounds uncertain, but meets my gaze directly. The thought of being the source of the blood I need to survive might not thrill her, but she's not running away from it either. My Jenniene is no coward, that's sure and certain.

Our reconnection is so new, and fragile, and I know there's no room for anything less than total honesty between us. I can't sugarcoat what I want and need from my mate, just as I wouldn't want her to hide her wants and needs from me. "I want to share everything with you, bébé. The good and the bad." I lean down to kiss the tip of her pert little nose before I nip gently at her bottom lip, using a sharp fang to tease, but not break, her fragile skin. I notice that the tiny love bite I gave her earlier has already healed, telling me just how strong she truly is. "I want your body because you are truly the sexiest damn female I've ever seen and you fuck like a demon." I can't help but smirk at that. I know she recalls how damned good we were together. There's no way she's forgotten our passion. No way. "More importantly, you are my fated mate, the one the fates decided was my perfect match – the one I love. I have always, and will always, want you. I could never want another woman as I want you."

I give her a moment to process these truths before I move on to the part that is likely making her feel uncertain. "I want to feed from you. Only you. I want your blood because your innate gifts will make me stronger, Jenniene. You are powerful enough to be able to meet my needs without weakening yourself."

Surprisingly, she nods as though this is perfectly reasonable sounding to her. "I want your blood because sexual arousal goes hand in hand with feeding on blood, and I don't want to feel that with another female – ever."

I almost smile like a mindless fool cuz I can feel the wave of rage and possessiveness roll off my female at the thought of me being aroused with another female. I fuckin' like that she's jealous over me. That's as it should be between mates, and that's why I want to forever seal our connection so that the green-eyed monster will have no place in our lives ever again. "I also want your blood because exchanging blood between the two of us will complete our bond." I watch her eyes, searching for the acceptance I need.

Obviously, this idea intrigues my female. "You want me to bite you... and to take your blood?"

I nod and verbalize my agreement. "An exchange of blood will strengthen our bond. I'm certain of it."

"You want us to mark each other with claiming bites like other shifters?" she questions in what I think is a hopeful tone. I nod silently, letting her fill in the blanks for herself. Obviously, after living down in New Orleans and hunting rogue Immortals for all those years, she's learned a thing or two about the world of supernaturals. Surely she understands what that means for us, as a mated pair? She silently searches my face, and it feels like she is reading every secret hidden in the very depths of my soul. I'm praying to any god who might be listening that she can see the real me and still wants the male I am deep in my soul, not the Joker I've allowed myself to become.

After several tense moments, she simply nods before leaning in to capture my lips tenderly. A sweet entreaty for my body and soul. When my beloved pulls back, just enough to look into my eyes again, I can see my own emotions mirrored in the depths of Jenniene's soul. Her next words confirm that she's all in, finally. "So this blood exchange... it will bind our souls together like other fated mates? Will it seal our bond for eternity?"

I nod before I lean in to plant a chaste kiss on her full, red lips. "Yeah, mon amour, I believe that it will." I shrug my right shoulder. "I'm unique, but I am a shifter, like any other. All shifters originated when some being or outside force combined a human soul with the soul of an animal. I just happen to have been joined with a blood demon as well. Hence the need for blood and a few random demonic abilities. But honestly, our mating shouldn't be that different from any other shifter mating bond."

I growl my appreciation when she reaches up to clasp my face between her hands and draws me back for another kiss. This one is much less gentle and exploratory... it feels like my female is staking her claim. Thank fuck! I relish her taste, as I return her ardor and up the ante. I'm goin' for broke. We are both panting and pawing each other's bodies when I break the kiss to growl my claim against her swollen lips. "You are mine, bébé. I am yours. Now and forever."

"Hells yeah," she affirms with a joyful laugh. "Whatcha gonna do 'bout it, Joker-man? You plannin' on talkin' me to death or you gonna fuck me already?"

My female's bravado and nasty talk ignites my libido to a full-on conflagration. Before she can blink three times, I rip that teeny-tiny top from her body, and snag her wrists again to tie them to my headboard. I'm admiring my handiwork with a self-satisfied smirk and my Jenniene is laughin' happily as she gives the makeshift restraints a tentative, playful tug. I'm fairly certain she can break those makeshift restraints if she wants, but I need to give her an out, just in case. "If you decide you don't want this... any part of it... just tell ol' Joker to stop." I pause a second to let that sink in. "Understand, gal? You have the final say. You say stop, and I stop."

Jenniene leans up to trail biting kisses up my throat before nippin' my bottom lip, hard. "Not gonna happen, Zeke. I've had a long time to grow up and come to understand that being connected to a demon doesn't automatically make anybody evil. It comes down to the choices we make day after day. Everyone's gotta choose, every day of their lives, to do right or do bad. You 'n me, these enforcers you've bound yourself to, we all choose to do right. Day by day. Since I've come to Tulsa, to you, I'm finally able to accept myself, so I can certainly accept the male I love. The male meant to be my other half." She bites my chin hard and growls, real cute like, with her little human voice; "Make me yours forever, cuz I as sure as hell plan on leaving my mark of ownership on you and makin' you all mine from here on out. I won't be lettin' you get away again." 
CHAPTER NINE

JENNIENE

Oh shit! Zeke is starin' at me like he's never laid eyes on me before, and now I'm wonderin' if I pushed him too far. Zeke is as Alpha-Male as they come, I just basically told him I'm gonna own him. Maybe I'm letting my enthusiasm carry me away? Oh hell no. No way. I ain't gonna start second guessin' myself at this stage of my life. I've put that shit behind me. If me speakin' my truth was too much, he's just gonna have to git the fuck over it. I'm gonna stand up to whatever Fate has in store for us. I'm not the same timid female that I was back in the day. I no longer fear what I am under my skin. I accept all of me. And just as important, I am ready to accept all of Zeke.

Any lingering worries about our future instantly evaporate when he throws his head back to roar his laughter. I let my Joker laugh for a moment or two before I wrap my legs around his torso and pull his hard, sexy-as-sin body against me in a move so quick and hard that he oomphs in surprise. Yeah, my male needs to know his female's not some fragile flower who wilts easily. Back in the day, we both hid our true power, but no more.

Suddenly feeling playful, I give the restraints a little tug and decide to tease my demon-wolf a bit. "You thinkin' I've turned submissive over the last century or so?"

He laughs and cups both my breasts in his big ol' hands before givin' 'em a good, hard squeeze, just as I like. He follows that up with a wet lick, and a wicked nip of those sharp teeth. There's no doubt, he's enjoying my tits, and I am sure as hell not complaining, either. Especially not when he rolls the nipples hard between his thumb and forefinger. The electric pleasure/pain zings directly to my pussy, and suddenly my inner wild child is desperate for the wild, hard, and hot lovin' I know this male can give me.

"No fuckin' way, bébé. You ain't a submissive female. You do like it a bit rough and you like to take what you need... but you always was willin' to give me what I need, too. That makes you generous, not submissive." He sucks hard on one of my nipples only to release it with a loud poppin' sound. "But you has always been a bit impatient, shou-shou. You always want it hard and fast, but I think it's time you learn that gettin' there is half the fun." The wickedly pleased gleam in his eyes tells me he fully plans to use my eagerness to his advantage.

Zeke begins trailing hot, wet kisses and little bites down my belly, and hooks his fingers in the elastic of my boxers to tug them down my legs and toss them over his shoulder. He looks at my plain, white cotton panties and clucks his tongue in disapproval. "I'll be buying you some new drawers. Maybe a few sexy thongs, bébé. These granny-panties has gotta go."

I laugh and tease him back. "You think you can make me wear some sexy lil' fifi drawers?" My inner wild thing is rubbing her hands together in anticipation because I just challenged Zeke to take charge. And the Zeke I remember always rises to the challenge.

"Oh bébé, you will wear the pretty lil' panties I buy ya or ya will wear nuthin' at all. I'm fine with you goin' panty-less, if you prefer." I can hear the wicked tone of authority in his voice... his need for me to submit to him in this small matter. And a really big part of me enjoys it. My man is serious about this. He wants me in sexy panties, or none at all. And in that second, I realize I am happy to give him that. Hell, I'm happy to give him anything he needs in this moment. I love this man with all of my heart, my mind, my body, and my soul. I know he would ask more than I can give. He never has.

I am torn from my moment of epiphany when he rips those plain undies from my body and growls approvingly on my freshly shaved pussy. "You like?" I question with a knowing smirk. I keep it shaved to please myself, because going hairless makes me more sensitive, but I am loving the idea that Zeke is getting off on it as well. His rough finger tips caressing my bare mound, and the look of absolute adoration, is answer enough. My man loves my pretty, bare pussy.

"Now this is a treat," he says with a satisfied chuckle after he has spread my legs to open me wide for his perusal. He flicks the barbell of my hood piercing a few times before looking up to meet my eyes. The absolute lack of judgment and intense look of carnal lust on his sexy face is immensely satisfying.

But my sex-on-two-wheels Joker wants to play. He shakes his head in mock disapproval and assumes a haughty tone to say; "What do we have here?" he demands in a pretentiously severe tone. I give him a wide-eyed, innocent stare that wouldn't fool a child. "Oh, Mistress Jenniene, you are indeed a very, very naughty girl." I can only bite my bottom lip, as I do my best to play along and pretend to be suddenly shy and embarrassed of my piercing. But I can't carry the farce off, and soon I am giggling breathlessly as I delight in our lively exchange.

My playful laughter is instantly turned to moans of delight when Zeke pinches the metal piercing against my now engorged, if smallish, clit which has finally emerged proudly from the hood. "We's gonna have some serious fun with this," he says with a clear note of awe in his voice. Obviously, Zeke likes the modifications I have made to my body and I am on cloud nine as I revel in his acceptance of my wilder side.

"Some serious fun, indeed," he continues huskily. Tearing his lascivious gaze from my slick and engorged pussy to meet my eyes, he queries; "You got that piercing to make it easier to coax that tiny clit out to play, didn't ya?" He watches with patently alpha male satisfaction as I pant eagerly when he repeats the pinching motion a few times. Words are just not something I can muster in this moment, so I only nod breathlessly.

He chuckles playfully. "Oh sweet, sweet Jenniene, that beautiful undersized clit of yours always needed jes a bit more attention, an' I was always happy to give it what it needed. But this pretty little trinket is gonna be fun to play with." I can only nod again like a mute and horny fool. I simply refuse to think about the few lovers I have had since Zeke. The men who didn't always take the time to coax my slightly undersized clit out to play, leaving me needing more. Not everyone has my man's skill and need to please his woman before finding his own pleasure.

His skillful fingers continue to tease and torment my clit, dragging my abundant slick juices up to spread around and around the bundle of nerves, only to lightly slip over the neediest bits without enough pressure to actually give me what I need. Pushing me closer, and closer, to my first orgasm, yet keeping my release just out of my reach. I'm panting openly and ready to beg for more. Ready to demand that he make me come, when he backs off to trace the contours of my swollen lips, and tease around my clit without directly stimulating the tiny nubbin of nerves. "You like that, don'cha, my bad little girl?"

"Yes, I like it, but I want more. I want..."

He chuckles. "I knows what you want, bébé. You want me to fuck you hard and fast. You want me to rub that clit hard and make you gush." I grin like an eager fool, only to whimper when he shakes his head slowly from side to side, denying me my immediate release. "Mon amour, you need to be savored, teased, tormented, and loved like you deserve."

He drags his devouring gaze from my face and returns his rapt attention to my pussy. "Fuck, Jenniene. You are so wet, so swollen, so fucking perfect!" He uses his talented fingers to stimulate my shy little clit in earnest now. I can only nod wordlessly and try to push into his touch... wanting to feel more of his exquisite torture. Desperately seeking the release I know he can give me.

But Zeke has always been a tease at times like this. Pushing me farther and farther, until I think I will die if I don't climax, before giving me the explosion I crave. Even though I know how my man likes to play, I whimper in protest when he abruptly releases the pressure on my now ultra-sensitized clit. "Zeke," I whine pitifully. Slowly and deliberately, he trails a couple of fingertips from my piercing, through the swollen and sopping wet folds of my labia, over my quivering slit to my sensitive asshole, and then back again.

He looks up to meet my gaze again before verbally staking his claim on me. "All of this..." he taunts my needy flesh without tearing his eyes from my face, "...is so fuckin' beautiful and so, so fuckin' mine, bébé." I gasp my surprise when he hikes my legs over his shoulders before using his hot, wet tongue to travel the same trail his fingertips have already blazed so skillfully. "But first, I'm gonna eat my fill," he growls against my cunt. I revel in the vibrations of his deep and gravelly voice against my sensitive flesh, and push forward, wanting more of his talented mouth.

A man of his word, Zeke eagerly laves my quivering sex from slit to clit, before greedily sucking my bejeweled and aroused bundle of nerves into his mouth to suck gently. When he bites down hard enough to make me squeal, while inserting two fingers to slam home, he drives me over the edge. I scream out in mindless ecstasy as he chuckles, like a man who knows he's completely in control, against my throbbing sex. "FUCK! Fuck me, Zeke!"

He pulls back just enough to taunt; "Not just yet, ma fille coquine." My hands, which have been curled into tight fists, are now shaking violently, and I wonder if I'm going to snap my restraints, when he calls me his naughty girl, so that I can punch him for taunting me this way. Knowing I am really on edge, Zeke crooks his long, elegant fingers to hit that hidden sweet spot and make me snarl animalistically; "You bastard. Gods yes! More!"

My beloved chuckles softly as I thrust repeatedly to meet his punishing, fevered strokes. "That's it, bébé. Just like that. You bad lil' gal. Take what you need. Git it, mon amour. Fuck yourself hard on my fingers." His filthy words, each line punctuated with a deep, penetrating stroke, are delivered in such a coaxing, tender, and loving tone as to be my utter undoing. His words, his verbal adoration, and his skillful tactile manipulation act as the final wicked impetus upon my vulnerable body while it teeters wildly on the knife's edge between mindless need and wild release. Perfect explosions of unimaginable pleasure generate glaringly bright light to cloud my vision, as I free-fall from the heavens into the blissful oblivion of true satiation.

When I eventually break the surface of reality from the depths of insensibility, Zeke is hovering over me, planting tender, loving kisses all over my face. His expression conveys the very image of a happy and wholly besotted male. While I am basking in this tender show of adoration and affection, I'm surprised to realize that my hands are no longer bound above my head, instead, I am cupping his beloved face. My wrists are very sore, and I look to see that the tattered lengths of my old shirt are still tied to my wrists. Obviously, I broke my bonds during that earth-shattering orgasm. Zeke's chuckle makes me smile weakly when he tells me I ripped the stretchy synthetic material in my fevered bid to touch him as I climaxed.

Always one to take care of me, he gently begins to remove the tattered bonds which are now cutting into my flesh painfully. Once my wrists are free of the remnants of my shirt, he massages them gently before he continues his adoration of my body. His sweet kisses and tender petting of my sensitized flesh continues for long moments as I slowly regain my footing on this mortal plane. Just as I am once again feeling the faint stirrings of renewed desire, my male begins urging me to rest. Oh, hells no! He's not getting off that easily.

A surprised growl erupts from my man when I flip him onto his back and straddle his hips. With more skill, strength, and speed than he seems to expect from me, I pin his wrists above his head, much like he did to me earlier. "Now, now, Zeke, did you honestly think I'd just curl up and sleep off this fucking incredible high?" He smirks wickedly at me but doesn't say a word. I'm clucking my tongue and shaking my head back and forth, like one would chastise a child for some amusing puerile behavior. "I'm claiming you, Joker-man. You are mine, and I am taking the first step to sealing our bond. Forever begins today."

I lift just enough to reach behind me and grasp the stretchy fabric of his gaudy boxer briefs before whisking Betty Boop down to Zeke's mid-thigh area. His long, thick cock springs free with enough momentum to sling a dollop of pre-cum against my lower belly before the swollen head smacks wetly against my still throbbing clit. We both cry out in surprised delight at the sensual torture of the inadvertent contact.

Although I am breathless from my acrobatic maneuvers to free Zeke's cock, I quickly reach up to recapture the wrists I was forced to abandon when I lowered his briefs. I note with considerable pleasure that he did not lower his hands, yet it's also plain that I am desperate to allow nothing or no one to interfere with our claiming of each other. I realize I am demon-woman on a mission, and nuthin' is getting in my way.

Hovering over my mate like a lethal predator, I lean down to capture his delicious, meaty lips with my avaricious mouth for a rapacious kiss. I lick, suck, and nip ravenously as I position the head of his impressive shaft at the entrance of my pussy. I pull back just enough to look into his eyes as I begin to slide, ever so slowly, down his dusky length. Inch by amazing inch, I lower myself onto his engorged cock as it stretches me painfully, amazingly, gloriously. My quivering, slick inner walls welcome my lover eagerly as my body quickly adapts to his heavenly invasion, rapidly transmuting the slight pain into intense pleasure.

During my slow descent, we never break eye contact. Power, love, lust, and longing flows between us like a completed electrical circuit. The depth of the connection between our very souls fills my heart with so much love that I sob out loud, almost as though in agony. But this isn't pain, it's heaven. Pure heaven.

"Let go of my godsdamn hands, Jenniene. I need to touch you, woman." His earnest command warms my heart and compels me to obey. But I am feeling powerful, and I don't want to cede even a modicum of control in this moment, so I shake my head playfully. I am eagerly savoring this passing sense of power as I willfully deny his dominance for this small portion of our sensual dance.

When I begin to slowly move upwards, reluctantly allowing his thick shaft to withdraw from my wet heat, Zeke snarls and shakes his head. "I don't want to force you to let go, but I gotta touch you. I want to play with those beautiful tits while you ride my cock. Let. Go." The power of his primal command is unmistakable and irresistible; leaving me with only one option. I immediately comply, just as I plunge down forcefully to once again take my lover into my body.

We both cry out in ecstasy, and Zeke cups my face to drag me down for a mind-bending, but all too brief kiss, as I continue to ride his manhood. He lovingly trails his massive, calloused hands down my throat, over my chest to cup both of my breasts. Using his thumb to flick the nipples, before rolling them between thumb and forefinger, he orders me to ride him faster. "Ride me hard, bébé! I wanna watch these glorious tits bounce." He grips my full hips hard, and uses his strength and filthy words to urge me on. Faster. Harder. Deeper.

When I know I am about to lose my ever-lovin' mind to another soul-bending orgasm, I lean down and bite him hard at the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. His hot, coppery blood fills my mouth as my suddenly razor sharp teeth rend his flesh. In the back of my mind I am wondering if the demon's soul is taking over, or if I am just borrowing physical characteristics for my own ends. I savor the sweet, heady flavor of my male for a moment before a flood of images, emotions, and sensations fill my consciousness while rocketing me into another climax. Instantly, the cosmic magickal connection between us vibrates wildly, widens, and empowers me, before I pull back to look into the eyes of my beloved, my forever.

The second our eyes meet; all seems right in my world. I instantly know a deep peace and contentment, the likes of which I have never experienced – until I see the damage I have wrought on Zeke's neck and I am nearly overwhelmed with empathy and sorrow for causing him pain. I lean down again to tenderly lick the jagged wound, as my beastly lover continues to viciously drive his massive shaft up into my body. I look again and smile happily because his rent flesh has healed already, only leaving a slight scar.

When I open my mouth to tell Zeke how much I love him, I am cut off as he flips me to my back to loom over me like an avenging angel, bent on divine retribution. "My turn, mon coeur!" Just as he calls me his heart, his pounding assault gentles, his features morph from an animalistic mask of carnal need to a soulful visage of love and adoration. "Nuthin' is gonna keep me from you, ever again. Nuthin'." Sharp fangs sink into the mirror image on my neck, and another orgasm washes over me, dragging me down into the abyss of unconsciousness.
CHAPTER TEN

JOKER

I'm still licking the wound I inflicted upon my mate to mark her as my own when I realize she's unconscious. I can't help but grin like one self-satisfied mother fucker. Not many males can fuck a strong female like Jenniene into oblivion. The wound almost instantly heals as I watch, and I am delighted to see that it will leave a faint scar – a mark of my claim on her. Any Immortal who sees it will instantly know this female has a mate. The indestructible connection between us slammed into place like iron manacles the moment my fangs broke her delicate skin and her divine blood filled my mouth, inundating me with power like I have never before experienced.

Joining my fate to my Jenniene is an eternal bondage I have craved for so long. I'll never regret binding my soul to hers this way, and I have every intention of never giving her a reason to look back on this day with anything but pure joy. I reach up to delicately trace the full contours of her ruby red lips, the delicate line of her chin, and savor the silkiness of her cheeks. I utterly adore this female.

"Mine," my wolf growls gleefully. I'm a bit surprised that the beast found an outlet with my human voice. And yet, it makes perfect sense, because I now feel more at peace with my wolf and demon natures. It's almost as though bonding with Jenniene was the glue that I needed to bond all of my internally warring pieces into one fully functioning being. Before I can chastise myself for sounding like a love-struck pussy, I utter the inescapable truth. "You've made me whole, Jenniene Marie Xavier."

Her eyelids flutter like the wings of a hummingbird for just a moment before her eyes open to gaze upon my face. The deep regard, pride, and admiration I see in her glittering eyes fills my soul with peace and sends blood rushing to my cock. I smile when I realize every part of the male I have become wants this woman with an undying fervor. I may want to devour her body again, to feed deeply upon her blood as I sate my feral lusts with her beautiful body, but first I need to make sure she's okay with everything that's happened.

"How you feelin', mon coeur?" I can hear a slight tremor in my voice and I reach out to toy with those sexy, raven-black curls, while I watch her face for any indication of distress or regret. But all I see is a joy and a sense of peace that mirrors my own.

"I feel like I could wipe out BonFreete's Ghouls single-handedly," she says with a satisfied purr, before stretching like a contented feline.

That makes me chuckle and I give one of her bouncy curls a little tug. My woman is pretty bad-ass and taking on Ghouls by herself just might be doable. But I'll be by her side from now on. Whatever dangers she might face, I'm stickin' to this female like white on rice. She smiles brightly when I say as much. "Same here, Joker-man." Her expression turns impassive as she reaches up to trace the scar her bite made on my shoulder. "Uh... I'm not sure what happened here."

I chuckle and query drolly; "Remords de l'acheteur?" I lightly chuck her chin to tilt her face up to look at me. "Thinkin' you got a raw deal bonding with me?" My tone is playful, but a small part of me wonders if she did get the dirty end of the stick.

She smacks my chest with her open hand before stroking the defined bulges of muscle and flesh. Her touch soothes my soul and inflames my passion for her simultaneously. "No, dumbass." She giggles prettily and the musical sound of her happiness makes my dick throb. "I'm not experiencing buyer's remorse. I knew precisely what I was getting when I claimed you – the only male I want and need to make me happy." She smiles so radiantly my old jaded heart nearly thoo-thumps out of my chest. Day-um! This female truly owns me heart and soul. "I'm just not sure why my teeth went all razor sharp and demon-like when I claimed you."

I shrug carelessly. "I don't give a fuck. I'm just proud you claimed my sorry ass." Her expression is intent as she focuses on tracing the faint scar on my shoulder. "I love that you left your mark on me, la bien-aimée." I mirror her action to trace the scar I left on her perfect flesh. She meets my eyes and smiles knowingly. I'm pretty sure she's just as proud of her mating mark as I am of mine. "I love seeing my mark on you," I growl possessively before leaning down to kiss it sweetly.

When I pull back, her hand continues to trace my slightly raised scar lovingly. "Yeah... me, too," she admits with a grin and a dreamy quality to her voice. "But I'm wondering what it means that I suddenly had demon teeth and now they are back to normal."

No way am I gonna let my female obsess about this shit. I wrap an arm around her waist and roll over to lie on my back with her body covering my own. She giggles and quickly moves to straddle my hips, her splayed hands resting possessively on my chest. Our new position quickly reminds me of her aggressive lovin' earlier. I usually want to be in charge, but having a female bold enough to take what she wants and needs from me feels mighty fucking good. And my mate is certainly powerful enough to do just that. My Jenni has gotten much stronger and more assertive over the years we've been apart. I suspect the demon bond has a little something to do with that, just as it is likely the source of her inhumanly sharp teeth earlier.

"You know, I've gotten a lot of strengths and abilities from my bonds with the wolf and the blood demon." I reach up and cup her gorgeous face with both of my massive hands. "Perhaps those teeth and your kick-ass tracking and fighting skills come from the demon that's bonded to you?" I smirk. "You are a strong woman, cher. Demon bound or not. You have a core of inner strength. You easily take what you need from me, and I suspect that's what happens with your bond to that demon. You take only what you need, and leave the less desirable traits behind."

I tease her bottom lip with one of my thumbs and say; "I think a lesser woman would be overwhelmed and lose herself in such a bond. But not you." The pride and admiration I feel for this woman flood my very being. "You, my sweet, have taken the skills you need from the bond to become an avenging angel who protects the mortals of New Awlins." She stiffens a bit at the mention of her home town, but doesn't argue with me. I am left to assume she's at least considering my assertions. "When it came time to leave your mark on my flesh, to tear my skin, to taste my blood and forge our bond, you simply took the available tool you needed... par consequent, the razor sharp teeth."

Her hand has worked its way up from my claiming mark to cup the back of my neck. Her fingers are now playing with the close tufts of hair there as she seems to be deep in thought. "Does the thought of taking on demon characteristics when you need them really bother you so much, Jenniene?" She shakes her head no. "Then what's bothering you? Your thoughts seem a million miles away."

She shakes her head again and smiles wanly. "No, my male. My thoughts are not a million miles away, just about six-hundred and fifty miles."

The clatter of the penny rolling around in the cavernous spaces of my head is thunderous before it finally drops with a resounding clang, and realization of what's truly troubling my mate finally hits home. "New Awlins," I say quietly. "You don't want to leave your home... for me."

Her smile is sad. "It's obvious that your place is here now, with the Twin Ravens MC." She leans down to kiss me tenderly before lithely scampering from my bed to stand beside it. Despite the tension of the moment, I can't help but drag my gaze down the length of her naked body and devour the tasty sight she makes standing there in all her natural glory. Her next words immediately remind me that there are things more important than my cock, and its need to be buried balls deep in her curvy body. "I can do what I do anywhere." She shrugs like it's no big deal, but I can see the tension in her face. "It's just, I've never called any place else home. It scares me a little."

I rise to sit on the side of the bed and wrap my arms around her waist and pull her to me. I nuzzle the soft flesh of her belly and breathe in the intoxicating perfume of her lingering arousal for a moment before I speak. "Don' you be frettin' bout that stuff now, chér. It will all work out."

She chuckles dryly and leans down to kiss the top of my head before gently removing my arms from around her waist. She looks around my room until she spots an old tee shirt of mine draped over a chair and slips into it. I find her boxers lying on my floor and quickly snag them up to hand them off to her. Wordlessly, she slips into them and smiles uncertainly at me. "You know, Zeke, I am fully aware that worrying about where we will make our home is silly. especially when you consider we might not survive tonight..." Her voice trails off and she casts an ambiguous look my way.

I stand quickly, intending to take her into my arms to quiet her fears. I know she doesn't fear the coming attack, it's the uncertainty of her place in my life that's bothering her. She's been a strong leader of the supernatural community back home for over a century. There's no doubt in my mind that it is a position she has earned and she fulfills her responsibilities admirably. I'm guessing she's worried that now she will be relegated to the role of Joker's old lady if we remain in Tulsa. No way, no how. Whatever city we decide to live in, my female will shine. She's too strong and powerful to do any less.

But before I can wrap my arms around her again, she makes a mad dash for the door. I catch her just before she can slip out of my room. I can see the wild need to run away in her eyes. It's the same crazed look she wore the night she cast me from her life over a century ago. Suddenly, the shit's gotten real on so many levels, and she's scared. Again. Oh, hell no! There's no way I'm letting her run again. We both have a date with fate.

With a wicked chuckle, I embrace my fleeing female to inhale the heady combination of our scents that have once again been branded into her essence by joining our bodies. "You are mine, Jenniene. Now and forever." When she tries to push me away, I can only smirk knowingly before I set her straight, once and for all.

I trace the mark of my claiming on her shoulder and make her a vow. "My MC brothers may call me the Joker, but that don't make me a fool, mon amour. I've finally, finally, got you back in my bed and my life. Ain't nuthin', not hordes of blood thirsty Ghouls, psycho Gods hell bent on dominion of the earth, or even your own stubbornness, is gonna be enough to make me let you go. Not ever."

"Same here, Joker-man. I just need a moment to catch my breath," she assures me quietly before slipping out of my hold and dashing from my room in an instant. I debate chasing after her, but I can see where she might need a moment to absorb everything. And I know I sure as hell don' wanna listen to all the shit I'd get from my MC brethren for chasin' after my female without a stitch of clothes on. "Yeah, but she's worth it." Yet, I remain where I am. It's time to get my mind on the upcoming battle.

I glance over at the clock beside my bed and swear softly before heading for my private bathroom to shower. It will be dark in less than an hour. We aren't sure when the horde of BonFreete's Ghouls are gonna hit us, but most of us agree it could be any time after dark. That's why the strip club is closed and Tara's witch coven has bespelled the entire area to keep mortals away. No way we can protect a shitload of idiot humans as well as a helpless shifter child, all while flying under the radar of the mortal realm. Better to jes keep the humans away so we concentrate on winning this upcoming battle. And it's definitely gonna be one helluva fight. Those Ghouls have some big n' nasty plans for the human race, and they want the child at any cost. We all know that war is coming to Tulsa.

****

Thirty-six minutes later, I descend the staircase at the MC to find my female sitting at the bar. When our eyes meet, the connection between us sizzles, and we both take comfort from our physical nearness. I grin cuz my female don' let no grass grow under her feet, she's already in her leathers, and new armored vest, casually loading spare cartridges for the pair of Desert Eagles she carries in twin shoulder holsters. Her three Bowie knives are laid out on chamois cloths in front of her with a whetstone at the ready. Obviously, my mate has her own pre-battle rituals she observes. Hell, I guess we all do. I watch with an approving smile as she tucks each fully loaded cartridge into specifically designed slots on her armored vest. My woman is a delightful cross between modern commando and an avenging angel of old. I like it. A lot.

Tara is behind the bar filling drink orders for our brethren before the shit hits the fan. I'm standing at the foot of the stairs, still admirin' the sight of my bad-ass female in warrior mode, when my friend stops in front of Jenni with a tumbler and a bottle of that expensive ass hooch they both love so much. "Armored vest?" Tara snorts derisively. Her tone is derogatory, but I can see the teasing glint in her eye. Tara accepts my woman as one of us now, therefore, Jenniene is subject to a load of shit any time Tara feels inclined to share. That's just the way the bad-ass little vamp rolls. "Girlie, if you are that afraid of getting an owie, maybe you better stay outta this fight."

Jenniene simply sips the Scotch and then grins knowingly. "Ghouls eat flesh." Tara nods and has this expression on her pretty face that says; Well, duh! But Jenniene isn't gonna rise to the bait. "This particular band of flesh eating fuckers especially like biting soft fleshy things so they can make more Ghouls to join their end of the world party." With an impish smirk, and pure devilment blazing in her eyes, Jenni reaches across the bar and cups one of Tara's boobs before she says; "You might be able to grow another tit if they bite one off, but I can't. I plan on keeping my fleshy bits intact."

My brethren fill the room with laughter at my mate's remark, but I am one seriously sick fuck who just got a major hard-on when I saw my mate's hand on a tit that was not her own. A flood of illicit images flash through my mind, and I readjust my package before I end up with permanent zipper impressions on my cock. Day-um! Saints preserve me from my own filthy imagination.

I stride away from the stairs, intending to join my female, when there's a knock on the barred front door of the clubhouse. Who the fuck has come a knockin' right before a battle? I don't smell like Ghouls, so got past the wards? I look around and realize my brothers are as much at a loss as I am. Only Blood and Jenniene seem completely unaffected by our unknown new arrivals. Jenni seems to sense the tension in the room because she looks up from sharpening one of her Bowie knives to look around the room at my fellow enforcers. "Uh... is anyone gonna open the door? That'll be Breena Summers and her boys."

"Who the fuck is that?" Writhe has stopped his frenetic pacing and snaps irritably at my woman..

His tone and attitude piss me the hell off, and I'm ready to rip his ugly fuckin' face off, when Wrath comes striding outta the kitchen with a sandwich that would do Dagwood proud. "Breena is my sister at arms. She's Morna Michael's sister and her mate is lead enforcer of the Blood Coalition."

"Don't give a fuck," Writhe snarls like a cornered animal. "We don't have time to play games with some cunt and her crew when we are facing possible annihilation at any moment."

Jenniene spins around on her stool and stares daggers at Writhe. "That's one, asshole. It's also the only one you get." She rises from the stool gracefully to stroll over to stand in front of Writhe, setting off every single protective instinct in my body. Once she standing two feet away from my cantankerous friend, she casually props her hands on her hips and says; "She's my best fucking friend, jackass. Call her a cunt again and I'll take your balls so I can wear them for earrings." She pats one of the Bowie knifes on her hip and smiles nastily. "She's also the Chronicler of Airendell, and one seriously bad-ass enforcer. She's put down more rogue Ghouls, Demons and Stone Colds 'round New Awlins than most folks have ever laid eyes on. We need her help. So, stop snarling like a rabid mutt and make nice."

Blood chuckles deeply and strolls over to unlatch the magickally reinforced door and let the newcomers in. A group of nine Immortals stroll in and I recognize the vamp in the lead, as well as the two males bringing up the rear. The rest of 'em are strangers to me, but they all have the look of fighters about 'em, so I'm hopeful they'll be more help than hindrance. Our reconnaissance over the last few days has proven our enemies has some serious numbers and hidden allies. If all of them come at us at once to snatch that baby girl, we are gonna need the back up.

I give Writhe a what-the-fuck look and turn my attention the newcomers. The young vamp in the lead of this little group was human the first time I met him. His name is Damian Summers and he was just one of hundreds of street kids I've met over the years who accidently come to learn a thing or two about the hidden supernatural world. I had heard several years back that he got caught up in some petty vamp war or another. Word on the streets said he was turned as part of some push to build an army to take over feeding territory. Fucking rogue Stone Cold vamps used to be a real problem around Tulsa, but they are much better since the Blood Coalition came into power. I'm pleased to see the kid has found a home among some more established and seemingly civilized Immortals.

In fact, he seems to be the man in charge. Blood shakes the kid's hand like they are old friends, slapping him on the back before turning to hug the tiny red-haired beauty at the vamp's side. I am further mystified when Blood treats the little female with a level of respect he usually reserves for gods and realm leaders. My Jenni strides up and lovingly hugs the female and three males surrounding the tiny red-head.

I am surprised to learn that the two males behind the couple are their sons... hell, I thought they were brothers of the leader. They all look to be about twenty years old. What the fuck? That kid can't even be 30 years old. No way he's daddy to those men. I know strange things happen in the preternatural world, hell, I'm a perfect example of that truth, but how can a male so young be father to two grown ass men?

I'm confused as hell, but don't have the time to ask questions, before three Spell Weavers are introduced next. Two females, one is statuesque and blonde, while the other one is tiny, pixie-like, and blonde as well. Both ladies are sexy as sin but also give off a bad-ass warrior vibe. These gals are almost as hot as my Jenniene. I watch them as Blood introduces them to our Brethren. It's immediately apparent that these ladies are lovers. The male with them, who smells of wolf as well as Spell Weaver, is the third in their triad. Lucky bastard, I think off handedly.

The two males who complete the group are old friends of the MC. Roi, is an ancient Spell Weaver who runs BDSM clubs for supes. They've recently expanded to include a new club here in Tulsa. His partner in the business is also an enforcer who lives his life as an outlaw biker here in the mortal realm. His name is Anton Dracul. He's the lesser well-known cousin to the infamous Vlad Tepesh, or Dracula to those dumb enough to use that name in his presence.

I'm pleased for the extra help. Jenniene and Blood are convinced that if the Ghouls can get their hands on the child and complete the blood ritual, which will entail that sweet baby's sacrifice, the barriers between the realms will crash. Obviously, those of us who spend our lives protecting mankind from Immortals who want to subjugate them for their own purposes are not in favor of letting those barriers fall. And nobody but sick bastards are ever in favor of baby killin'.

Just as my mate is leading her friend the Spell Weaver upstairs to place some sort of protective spell on the kid, another knock sounds at our front door. Tank, who's finally come down from playin' with the baby and keepin' Glory company, checks the surveillance feed and chuckles. "I knew the locals wouldn't stay out of this fight." When he unlatches the door, we are all pleased to see about 20 local Immortals stroll in, obviously ready to join the fight. There's one panther pride princess and two wolf pack alphas leading this band of reinforcements.

When Katrina Conti, the princess, strides up to give our leader a hug, she smirks playfully and quips; "Blood... you didn't think we'd let the Twin Ravens stand alone, did ya?" I'm just standing there shaking my head with a big, dumb grin on my face when a massive concussive blast hits the MC.

Oh, fuck! Jenni!
CHAPTER ELEVEN

JENNIENE

The moment Breena completes the protection spell on Sunny, a deafening explosion concusses through the massive three story building of the Twin Ravens MC with enough physical force to throw me and every adult in the room against the walls hard enough to rattle our bones, and momentarily scramble our senses. Fortunately, Sunny was safely asleep in her bespelled and heavily warded crib, which didn't even wobble in the wake of the blast. The sleeping infant didn't even seem to hear or feel the results of this initial attack on the Immortal stronghold. I hope it remains that way, because I have no doubt that was just the first round of attacks.

The building creaks ominously as clouds of white dust billow up, while clumps of sheetrock and spackle rain down on our heads. I notice that Glory has splayed her body over the crib protectively, and a wide expanse of golden wings are shielding Sunny from the falling debris. I've known Glory was an Immortal since meeting her, I just had no idea what type. Seeing those wings and the golden aura radiating from her form does nothing to clear up the mystery of her origins.

But we have much bigger problems on our hands right now. Just as we begin to scramble to our feet, another explosion from downstairs shakes the building's foundation, yet again and two snarling Ghouls charge into the room. I don't even have time to think about what's going on before I reflexively put them both down with a .50 caliber slug between their eyes. What the fuck? The impossibility of what we are experiencing is not lost on me or my companions. The wards and protections on this place should have made this sort of attack impossible. Uncertainty over exactly what kind of enemy we are facing forces me to go to my fall back plan.

I turn to meet Breena's worried gaze and mutter; "Do it." My bestie, the Spell Weaver, dashes over to the crib where she politely tells the winged protector, "Excuse me," before she scoops the still sleeping child into her arms. Once she's holding the baby, she turns to nod her assurances at me. My dear friend doesn't utter a word, but I know she's promising to protect Sunny with her own life.

I stand there and watch for several seconds before I frantically screech; "GO!" What the hell is she waiting on? Worry for the child is eating at my soul and clouding my thinking. Breena shakes her head and shouts back; "Something is blocking me. I can't translocate." She seems to try again, but only ends up looking a bit constipated. "I can't even use a finding spell to take us to Morna," she shouts, looking dismayed. Under different circumstances it might be a bit funny to see my always together buddy with such a confounded expression on her face as she struggles with something that comes so naturally to her. But knowing that our enemies have something powerful enough to block Spell Weaver magick is truly terrifying.

Breena places the still sleeping child back in the crib, and Glory again assumes her protective stance over the child. I am counting our blessings that Sunny is able to sleep through all of this. But even that small bright spot is dimmed when I hear the thundering noise of several large beings clamoring up the stairs, and then down the hallway. Obviously, whoever is coming our way, knows exactly where the child is. SHIT!

Taking up a defensive stance, I face the door, and then I cast a brief glance over my shoulder to see the others have done the same thing. "We are about to have company," I mutter, stating the obvious to Glory and Breena.

When Zeke, Blood, and Damian crash through the door of the bedroom, I breathe a sigh of relief. However, our reprieve is short lived as I hear the deafening sounds of battle from the hallway. The MC has obviously been infiltrated.

"Our brothers won't be able to hold them off for long," Blood growls as he approaches the crib. Once again, Sunny is unceremoniously scooped up from her bed into protective arms.

When Blood begins to chant in some guttural and ancient sounding language, the air in the room begins to shimmer and vibrate. I look to Zeke for assurance and he simply nods. I still don't know what the hell the leader of the Twin Ravens is doing, but if Zeke isn't worried, I can only trust in his judgment. After a few tense seconds of Blood's chanting, a portal opens in the middle of the large bedroom, Blood nods and orders everyone to follow him.

"Day-um," Breena quips with a grin on her lovely face. "Casting portals is a hella helpful ability to have at a time like this." She immediately follows Blood and steps through the iridescent blue oval which is now floating in the air. Before I can question what is going on, Zeke pushes me and Glory through the glimmering doorway. I'm expecting the trip through the portal to feel like entering the gateways or being translocated, but it simply feels very cold upon my first step into the darkness. Another step and I find myself in what is obviously a cave. A really big cave!

At the center of this massive cavern, a warm, fluctuating golden glow emits from a large hole in the cave floor. The power coming from the source makes me feel strong and confident that we can overcome. Before I can spend even a moment wondering about that, translucent forms that I can only assume are ghosts of ancient sabretooth shifters, emerge from the glowing orb to surround Blood and the infant in his arms. When Blood speaks to the specters in the same language he used to open the portal, I realize these must indeed be his fellow guardians. The primordial protectors of the deep, ancient magick which populated and guarded this land for eons before the supes who now think to rule ever stepped foot on the land.

He hands the infant to Glory with a reassuring smile. "My ancient brothers will guard you and the infant, my love." The kiss he lays on the surprised female is anything but platonic. Whoa! How did I not know that Glory and Blood had a thing going on? I look at Zeke, and he seems just as surprised as me.

Blood casts his eyes my way and says; "Mistress Jenniene, you were chosen by my ancient brethren to deliver the child into our care. Will you continue to protect her, even now in the face of the horde that's about to crash through the barriers into this sacred place to steal the child?"

I can only nod at first, until I find my voice in the face of so much ancient magick. "Hells, yeah, I'm not gonna let anything happen to that kid! I've come this far, I won't be backing out now," I assure the guardian. I feel Zeke at my back, and I realize that because of our mating, I just committed him to protecting the child as well. But I know in my heart, he would have done so even without our bond.

"Excellent," the behemoth says with a grin that tells me he's relishing the battle to come. He chuckles his amusement when my mate grabs me up for a quick, but passionate, kiss.

I hate to admit that, even though our situation is dire and we are facing some really bad odds, I manage to lose myself in my lover's kiss for a moment or two. When Zeke finally breaks the kiss and looks into my eyes, his love and fear for my well-being rocks me to my core. "Promise me you will stay alive," he breathes against my lips before planting a chaste kiss that is less about passion, but promises his undying devotion. I nod, but that's not good enough for my mate. "I need the words, mon coeur. Give me the words."

I smile... big and huge. I'm not sure how, but I know deep in my soul that we are going to come out of this alive. Strong enough to build our lives together. "We will both stay alive," I assure my lover confidently. "We have nearly a hundred and fifty lost years to make up for." He nods and kisses my forehead tenderly and then I turn to take up a defensive stance to await our enemies.

Before we can do much more than draw our weapons, the massive cavern is inundated with Ghouls, Stone Colds, and Blood Wraith. What the hell? Why are Blood Wraith helping the Ghouls? I don't have time to wonder about such allies as the battle has well and truly begun.

With an inhuman roar of rage, Zeke assumes his massive wolf form. I can hear him snarling and growling ferociously as he protects my back from attacking monsters. I pull both of my firearms, and begin doing my best to thin out the ranks of our enemies. All around us, the battle rages viciously and I don't have time to take my eyes from the attackers in front of me to check on the child. At this point, all I can do is trust that Glory and the spirit protectors are keeping Sunny safe while the rest of us fight of this horde of invaders.

About twenty feet from our position, I see a tall gangly male with matted and shaggy gray hair who seems to be living up to Hollywood's version of a Ghoul. Despite his haggard and caricature-like appearance, I can feel the immense power radiating from the male and I realize he must be BonFreete, the Ghoul leader. The female Blood Wraith at his side radiates even more power. Obviously, she's leading the Blood Wraiths. When I realize they are surrounded by the rank and file of their attack force and seem to be avoiding engaging in the battle, I get an idea. I shout over my shoulder to my mate. "Take out Bonfreete and that female Wraith with him...they are controlling the others."

I'm not sure where this certainty comes from, but I know I am right. Zeke doesn't even pause for a second. He begins to work his way through the onslaught of attackers, obviously targeting the pair I indicated. Under different circumstances, watching his massive brown wolf tear his way was through so many bodies would be horrifying, but in this moment, I am grateful for his ferocity.

I had lost sight of Breena and Damian in the melee, but it quickly becomes clear that they are intent on the same goal as us. They are fighting their way through the enemy's defenders from the right, while Zeke and I are battling our way through from the left.

Once I have gone through every magazine of ammo stashed in my vest, I drop my well-loved Desert Eagles and draw a pair of Bowie knives. Before I can get both weapons unsheathed, a crazed Ghoul lunges at me, biting me on the shoulder. The filthy creature still has his razor sharp teeth embedded in my flesh as I scream out in agony. Some putrid element or magick is flooding my body from the wound, setting every molecule of my being on fire. I lash out furiously, trying to shove my attacker away, just as I bring up my blade to take off the bastard's head.

I take a split second to look down at the headless corpse of my attacker and realize this crazed fucker has sealed my fate. I can already feel the change beginning.

I am becoming a Ghoul! Oh, hell no!

Thoughts of being infected with whatever is turning humans to Ghouls sickens my very soul, but I can't give up. Reaching BonFreete and ending his miserable life is now more important than ever. With a roar of unbridled rage, the likes of which I didn't realize I was capable of emitting, I lunge in BonFreete's direction. Slashing at his defending minions like an avenging angel of death, I plough through a tsunami of attacking bodies, lopping off heads, arms, and using my blades to slash at bodies to spill their innards.

Just as I think I am about to get my hands on BonFreete, two more Ghouls emerge from the rank and file to viciously attack me in defense of their leader. This rabid pair of screeching and clawing Ghouls buries their teeth into my flesh, one at my left bicep and the other at my right thigh, and I go down. My helpless screech of rage and futility fills the cavern, and is surely heard by all above the din of battle. When a third Ghoul attacks, biting and slashing my throat and chest, all seems lost.

In that one dark and agonizing moment, my hopes and dreams for a future with Zeke seem to go up in a hopeless wisp of contaminated smoke. I feel a dank, cold shroud of eternal darkness closing in, and I'm praying it is death coming for me and not my conversion to a mindless, flesh eating freak who will serve BonFreete. My eyes flutter closed and I can feel myself drifting away until a sweet, warm liquid seeps into my mouth and I hear Zeke's voice, blaring into my head. "Keep your promise, Jenniene! Stay Alive!" The weight of his command is unmistakable and compelling.

I swallow weakly, nearly choking on the blood in my mouth as I struggle to obey my beloved. Somehow, I find the strength to open my eyes just enough to watch as my lover, in his massive wolf form, savagely rips the head from the Ghoul leader. An overwhelming sense of satisfaction fills me. I can feel a slight smile tug at my lips as I watch the foul head of our enemy roll across the cave's floor. I hear what sounds like bodies dropping all around me, I just don't have the strength to look around, and yet I know this signals the battle is won.

Not a single vestige of strength remains in my battered and bloody body. I've come to the end of my strength and I simply want to drift off to rest. I close my eyes just as I feel Zeke's warm, calloused hands cup my face before he begins raining kisses down on my forehead, eyes, and lips. I can faintly hear his voice commanding me to stay with him...but he sounds like he's miles and miles away. Darkness and utter silence finally wins the fight for my conscious mind and the world disappears without even a whimper of protest from me.

EPILOGUE – One year later

JOKER

Jack 'o lanterns flicker brightly in the chilly fall night, as discount store ghosts flutter manically in the breeze, seeming to dance along, just out of time, to the strains of Monster Mash blasting from the speakers positioned throughout the grounds. I can't help but chuckle as I admire the "new" building and watch the clueless horde of humans enjoy our hospitality during our re-opening celebration.

For the first time, ever, the Twin Ravens has been able to focus on the joy of All Hallows Eve. After last year's all attack on the veils between the realms, groups like ours and the UCI have worked tirelessly to strengthen the defenses and track down everyone who tried to bring the veil down. In honor of our success, the MC decided to host a big festival type blow-out to celebrate the modern holiday of Halloween.

It's been a true pleasure this past year watching Blood's adopted daughter, Sunny, toddle around the grounds of the MC compound tonight. I am always delighted to see that kid, because her need for a protector brought my Jenniene back to me. And the pretty little tyke truly had a blast tonight with all of the young costumed visitors who joined our first annual Twin Ravens Halloween celebration. Since it is now well after midnight, the kids who participated in the Trick or Treating, games, and costume contests, are long gone for the year. Hopefully, they are all home, snug in their beds, as the witching hour has long since come and gone.

Apparently, the veil between the realms remains intact for yet another year, because when I look around the grounds, I notice that the brothers who had Trick or Treat Patrol seem to be trickling back into the fold and eagerly joining the party. Even though only a few die hard mortal partiers remain on Twin Ravens territory, there is still plenty of obnoxious laughter, debauchery, and terrible dancing to the drivel that passes for Halloween music while they swill the free hooch provided by the MC. In short, a rowdy but happy party is full swing.

I shake my head at how easily mortals ignore the existence of what they deem unexplainable and therefore impossible. Sometimes I think they are like children hiding their heads under their bedclothes, thinking they are safe from the monsters that go bump in the night. I laugh and take another swig of my beer before muttering quietly; "If you dumbasses only knew the half of it." I, like my brethren, know that one day humans will have to face the truth. One of these days, those Immortals who seek dominion over man-kind will find a way past the defenses of Immortals like the Twin Ravens MC.

But today is not that day. Nope, tonight we've celebrated surviving another year. Another year of defending the clueless humans. Another year and new fortress to call home here in the mortal realm. Rebuilding our clubhouse structure was one helluva lot easier than selling the bullshit story of a major gas leak and explosion that we had to push over on the local human authorities after the epic battle that went down here on Halloween night a year ago.

Knowing how close we came to failing last year, we contacted the most gifted builders of all the Immortal realms to help us build a structure that will not fall again. The new building, modeled after the old clubhouse in appearance, is a massive, native stone, three story structure which looks like it's at least one hundred years old, and yet it could withstand a nuclear blast or a magickal attack even greater the one BonFreete and Anteria threw at us.

Why was all that necessary? Simple. The fate of mankind. This clubhouse and band of enforcers protect the cave and the source of the primordial magick that keeps this part of the human realm alive and functioning. It simply cannot fall into the wrong hands. We got lucky last time, and there's no way we will trust in luck to keep the source safe in the future.

At the beginning of the attack by the Ghouls and Blood Wraiths, my leader, Blood, and I realized that BonFreete used the blood of one our brethren to get through the protections surrounding our clubhouse. It turns out that fucking Writhe wasn't just on the edge of turning rogue, the fucker had been in league with those warped flesh eaters from the very beginning. In fact, it was later discovered that BonFreete had sleeper Ghouls working for him in nearly every single group of enforcers on the mortal plane. BonFreete and the freak demi-goddess Anteria, of the Blood Wraith empire, had a detailed and likely effective plan in place to take over this entire realm. Had BonFreete not foolishly insisted on being in the middle of the battle a year ago, their plan might have succeeded.

Jenniene, my mate, was the one who figured out that BonFreete was the key to it all. When she told me to take him down, we broke his hold over the humans he had converted to Ghoul. Once I ripped that fucker's head from his body, every single Ghoul under his command, here and across the human realm, dropped dead on the spot. My own precious Jenniene only survived because I fed her my blood before taking that fucker's head. My bond was strong enough to nullify the magickal infection spread by BonFreete's minions.

Other magickly infected Ghouls did not fare so well. Immortal enforcers around the world had one helluva time explaining all the dead humans when those dead Ghouls instantly reverted back to their natural forms. But thankfully, the magick that allowed BonFreete and his minions to make more Ghouls with just a bite, seems to have died with him. We have searched every Ghoul settlement and stronghold since that night, and there's no hint that such dark magick is still in use. The odd alliance between Ghouls, Stone Colds, and Blood Wraiths remains uncertain, however. Apparently, at the same moment I removed BonFreete's head, Breena and her mate, Damian, transported his co-conspirator from this plane to a holding cell in Airendell. Anteria, the Blood Wraith demi-goddess who assisted BonFreete, is still being held by the UCI, United Council of Immortals. I roll my eyes and take another drink of my beer. That little soap opera likely won't be solved any time soon. That bitch, Anteria ain't talkin' and neither are her followers and the UCI is still dithering over species' rights and ancient traditions instead of coming down hard on the rogues.

I chuckle because I like Jenniene's nickname for the esteemed council much better than the official moniker. She refers to them as the Unorganized Collection of Idiots. It is a fitting handle for that bunch of losers. But as I look around this motley gathering of celebrants, I realize I have too much to be grateful for to spend my energy bemoaning the UCI's weaknesses and flaws.

I finish the now warm dregs of my beer and marvel at how different this All Hallows Eve has been from those of the past century or so. This year I had no reason to crawl into a bottle of rum and try to ignore the worlds around me. Nope. This year, I had a very good reason to be fully present in my own life. And that reason just wrapped her arms around my waist. The feel of my female's body pressed against mine and her delicious scent of sweet sage, wood smoke, and magnolias wafting up to tantalize my senses puts a massive fucking smile on my face and an equally huge erection in my pants.

"Hey sexy wolf, havin' fun?" Her sweet voice, rich with the flavor of New Orleans, makes me turn to take her into my arms. I capture her sexy, ruby red lips for a devouring kiss. I'm starving for this female. Her body, her mind, and her blood. She's been so busy tonight, helping Blood host this shindig, that I have actually had very little time to spend with my mate. But now she's back in my arms and I have every intention of making up for lost time, beginning right now.

She finally pulls away from my dominating embrace to laugh happily up into my adoring gaze. "Patience, Joker-man. The night's not over, yet." I nod and throw an arm over her shoulder as we turn to watch the party winding down. The sight of so many of my MC brethren and fellow supes from the area enjoying the celebration with their new mates at their side fills me with hope for the future of the Tulsa Immortals. After several moments, Jenniene asks; "So, Joker-man, after nearly a hundred and fifty years of heartache, I blew into your life last All Hallows Eve bringing trouble of the worst kind with me. And yet, you saw past all the bullshit and decided to build a life with me. Any regrets? Did I turn out to be a trick or treat?"

I laugh so hard at her question, that half of the party attendees turn to watch us. When I can finally speak, I turn my woman to face me. I cup her lovely face between my massive, work roughened hands to stare into her gorgeous eyes. Surely, she knows what a blessing her return to my life has been? She can't harbor any doubts about us, can she? But I as I watch her carefully, I realize she is busting to tell me something. Her question was simply a pre-lude to sharing her news... whatever it might be. I have my suspicions, my hopes...but I need to hear it from her own precious lips.

I lean down to kiss her tenderly and whisper; "Mon Coeur, every moment in your company is always a treat." And that's the godshonest truth. We've spent one helluva year, dividing our time between Tulsa and New Orleans. Doing our best to protect both places we call home. So, yeah, it's been a challenging year – but it's also been the best damn year of my long-ass life. I am confident that each year is just gonna get better.

She giggles and kisses me back with all the unrestrained passion we share for each other. When she breaks the kiss, she whispers; "Before I translocate us to our bed back at Haven House, I have some news." I grin happily at the pride I hear in her voice over her newly developed skillset, and wait... not so patiently... for my female to reveal her big secret. The merriment I see dancin' in her eyes tells me plain as day she's just bustin' at the seams to share. Finally, she gifts me with one of her sexy smirks and drawls her news with the thickest Cajun patois she can manage. "You is gonna be a daddy!"

I was hopin' for this news, and I know my smile must reveal my joy. Upon seeing my face, Jenniene's delighted squeal attracts the attention of everyone here. I kiss my female again before turning to face my friends and brethren to announce our joyous news. "You fuckers hear dat? I'm gonna be a Daddy!" A loud cheer of celebration goes up and nearly drowns out my own jubilant howl as I scoop up my gal to give her a wild celebratory whirl in my arms.

THE END... for now!

Continue reading for a sneak peek at Leo's Salvation by AM Halford, (prologue & the first chapter) Special Bonus content FREE for my readers. Find an excerpt from Leo's Salvation after my bio, media contacts and backlist.

THANK YOU for downloading and reading this first installment of the new TULSA IMMORTALS series of multi-author paranormal romance adventures! I hope that you enjoyed Joker & Jenniene's sexy adventure and will take a moment to leave a review. Reviews are essential to indie authors like myself, and I truly appreciate it every single time a reader takes the time to tell others about my writing. If you enjoyed the story, please help others find it at their favorite ebook vendor... just a few words is all it takes.

Cajun Queen & Joker is just the beginning for the TULSA IMMORTALS. This exciting series will be filled with stand-alone novels and novellas by several authors with a variety of writing styles. Each story will be a standalone, no cliff hangers, and can be enjoyed without reading the previous books in the series. But to get a good feel for this Magickal Universe, we will recommend a reading order. Find more about the sexy new waitress at the Twin Ravens MC clubhouse and the deadly Norse demi-god enforcer in Gin & Wrath by Audra Hart. https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/gin-wrath/

**AUDRA HART'S BIO** :

Audra Hart is a southern gal with plenty of wonderful life experience, which has lent itself to a colorful and somewhat naughty imagination. Audra truly loves to read and write sexy paranormal romance novels and strives to write romantic tales which are so exciting, so hot and so moving that her readers can gleefully escape their daily concerns while immersed in her fictional universe. As a lifelong fan of the Happily Ever After, Audra strives to give her readers true moments of joy within the pages of her books.

If you enjoy paranormal romance loaded with tons of action, in and out of the bedroom, as well as a fresh twist on mythology and folklore, then Audra Hart is the author for you. The heroines in these stories are always strong and sensual survivors who find themselves bonded to powerful and sexy alpha-male heroes. If you enjoy well developed characters, intricate plots and surprising twists... check out these stories! All of Audra's novels are written to be enjoyed by adults only.

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FIND OTHER BOOKS IN THE EXCITING TULSA IMMORTALS SERIES:

Cajun Queen and the Joker is Book One of the Tulsa Immortals multi-author series. You can find them all by visiting Audra Hart's website at <https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/>

Cajun Queen and the Joker by Audra Hart - Things are getting STEAMY for the TULSA IMMORTALS when the sexy lil' Cajun Queen who broke Joker's heart over a century ago shows up in Tulsa with trouble hot on her heels, will it spell disaster for the Twin Ravens MC or a second chance for these star-crossed lovers? <https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/cajun-queen-joker/>

Gin & Wrath by Audra Hart – If you enjoy a hint of kink with your romance, you've got to check out Gin & Wrath. Born of magick, Wrath is a dedicated Immortal Enforcer at the Twin Ravens MC. He keeps his inner monster at bay with carefully controlled violence, sex, and utter domination... Until sweet Virginia shows up at the MC, a target of the supernatural underworld. Her first encounter with the ageless Viking binds them together in a magickal connection that won't be denied! Can a savage and sadistic demi-god seduce a sweet, young virgin, and defeat her deadly enemies at the same time? Gin & Wrath is a very sexy M/F paranormal adventure that features an innocent human female and a jaded demi-god with sadistic tendencies. <https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/gin-wrath/>

Leo's Salvation by AM Halford – Are you a fan of sexy M/M paranormal romance? Then do yourself a favor and check out AM Halford's first installment in the Tulsa Immortals universe. This story features a cagey warlock, a grumalicious berserker bear shifter and salamander familiar that will leave you in stitches! <https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/leos-salvation/>

Darkheart's Valentine by Audra Hart – this installment of the Tulsa Immortals is fairly abbreviated version of Silas & Tina's story that I wrote to help a group of authors raise money for St. Jude's. You will find Darkheart's Valentine in the Claiming My Valentine anthology. To support this project and enjoy some steamy paranormal romance, visit Audra Hart's website: <https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/darkhearts-valentine/>

Coyote's River by AM Halford – Discover more exciting M/M romance in AM Halford's second installment of the Tulsa Immortals series. River has been on his own since the day he was born and he has learned to distrust everyone while struggling to understand his abilities as untrained warlock. Coyote is a good natured, overprotective shifter who serves as an enforcer with the Twin Ravens MC. When River's past returns to Tulsa determined to use him for evil can these fated lovers overcome their issues and defeat these deadly foes? <https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/coyotes-river/>

Devlin's Desire by Elaine Barris – For those readers who adore a very naughty vampire adventure, Elaine Barris has joined the Tulsa Immortals family with her exciting cross-over tale. Devlin Wick fell in love, and tried to shield her from the realities of his supernatural existence. But now an evil Stone Cold vampire in the service of a corrupt goddess has Devlin's sweet Jolie. Now this swaggering vampire with a checkered past is desperate. He's willing to swallow his pride and beg for help on bended knee, if necessary, to save his one true love, Jolie! Devlin appeals to the Twin Ravens MC for help, but their hands are tied by United Council of Immortals. In desperation, he turns to his own kind and attends The Decrees to get help. This is an action packed tale where we meet exciting cross-over characters from the universe of the Flames of Vampire Passion series and the Master for Tonight books. In short, it's a bunch of bad-ass vamps, a sweet human captive in need of rescuing, and one crazy magickal dude who thinks he's the prophet Elijah. FUN STUFF! <https://audrahart.com/tulsaimmortals/devlins-desire/>

Additional works coming soon to this exciting series from Audra Hart, AM Halford, Elaine Barris and Candi Fox. Connect with all of the authors in this exciting series on Facebook at our Tulsa Immortals FB Page: <https://www.facebook.com/TulsaImmortalsMagickalUniverse/>

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## Leo's Salvation

Copyright © 2017 A.M. Halford

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Prologue

"Oh, thank God you're here!" Mrs. Arndell ushered Leo into the beautiful cottage style house quickly, and closed the door behind him like she was trying to keep his presence here a secret. "It just won't stop. The nightmares last all night long and I'm losing sleep, but when I wake up, I can't move," she continued to speak as she showed him into the kitchen. It was a nice enough space, white cupboards, dark granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. "Please, tell me you can do something?"

Leo smiled warmly at the tired young woman. She couldn't be any more than twenty-five years old. Judging by the Catholic rosary she wore, and the crucifix he'd seen in the living room, he was going to guess she was Catholic. Either that, or she thought the items would somehow shield her from the entity she believed was in her home.

Unfortunately for Mrs. Arndell no modern-day symbols were going to ward off her nightly visitor. He could already feel the creature tapping at his consciousness, trying to figure out if he was friend or foe. With a gentle nudge, he sent the specter a warning to get out before he got rough. The backlash he received made him smile. This was going to be fun.

"Did you do as I instructed?" Leo asked, looking about the kitchen for any signs of the specter. He didn't see it.

"Yes," she nodded, moving to the fridge and grabbing a glass of wine from it. "My husband cleared out our bedroom this morning."

"Good. Then, show me the way," Leo said. Other than that one psychic greeting, Leo hadn't felt anything else since coming into the house. Meaning whatever it was that was haunting the Arndells, it had retreated to a place it felt safe, the master bedroom.

Mrs. Arndell showed him to the large room and instantly Leo saw it. A ghostly figure of a woman standing in the center of the room, hovering over the dark wood floors. Her garb indicated she was a native American, perhaps a spirit disturbed when they built the house here?

No, Leo looked closer and sneered. The specter's deceiving visage melted away showing a gnarled old hag. It was a Mare, a creature very similar to a succubus. She fed off humans through their nightmares, causing sleep paralysis in the process. If left unchecked she would kill both of the residents of this quaint suburban home.

"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to leave the room," Leo said calmly.

She didn't argue, merely nodded, and dashed from the room. As soon as she was gone Leo withdrew his staff, his Salamander familiar Ignis crawled out from his hiding place in Leo's jacket and perched himself on his shoulders. The large lizard like reptile hissed at the Mare standing in the center of the room.

"You aren't welcome here," Leo said firmly.

"And what are you going to do about it?" the creature's voice crackled as it spoke. "A weak little wizard like you seeks to run me off?"

Leo smiled, she didn't recognize him. Good. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "Incanto." When the Mare gasped, and shrank away from him, he knew exactly what she was seeing. Instead of his usual, nonthreatening brown hair and blue eyes, he stood before her with his true face. The face of one with genuine demon blood running through his veins.

"You, your kind are dead!" the Mare shrieked.

"Leave. Now!" Leo ordered again, black flames collecting around him in a lotus shape. The pendant he wore around his neck glowed as he spoke.

The Mare attacked and Leo sent his fire to encircle the malevolent woman. She wailed as the fire licked at her astral body. Obviously, she hadn't been expecting Leo's fire to be able to burn her directly.

"Why! Why do you kill your own?" she demanded as the fiery cage shrank in around her.

"Atonement," Leo answered before he closed his eyes and heard the last pained cry of the Mare as the flames swallowed her up. Unlike when a demon was banished from the mortal realm, his fire could kill them, so long as they were lower level demons like those that haunted humans. Anything stronger than mid-level and even he had to resort to just banishing it back to whatever hell it originated from.

"You wasted perfectly good Hellfire on such a weak opponent," Ignis hissed in Leo's ear. "Why not just exorcise it?"

"Because, the Mare would've just found another way to get back to this realm," Leo sighed, as he placed his staff back inside his coat, sliding it into the custom-made holder at his side. It was meant to keep the magical tool concealed.

"Your brethren would weep if they saw you now," Ignis reminded him again.

Leo didn't even bothering pointing out it was because of his brethren that he did this job. With a mental order, he sent Ignis back into his coat and left the bedroom to go in search of Mrs. Arndell. She wouldn't have any more trouble sleeping.

* * * *

Paid, and back at his office, Leo stripped out of his coat, letting the leather material rest comfortably on the mannequin made especially for it. Ignis crawled from his pocket in the coat and perched himself at the top of the mannequin, hissing irritably. He always did when they got back from a job. Leo had learned to ignore the irate Salamander.

Walking by his desk Leo noticed he had one message on his answering machine. Yeah, it was probably time he just routed all his calls to his cell, but he didn't like the interruptions when he was working.

Pressing play, he walked over to his mini-fridge and grabbed one of the cold coffees he kept in supply as the message played. "Hello? Um, my name is Danny Loreen, and I was told Leo Eaus was the best at helping with demonic possessions. I," tears started to clog the man's voice, "I think I'm being possessed. I have blank spaces in my memory and I don't know why. I live in Tulsa Oklahoma, and I really need your help. My number is 539-555-3453."

Leaning against the filing cabinet that didn't hold files exactly, it held his weapons, Leo considered if he should take the job. A blank in memory didn't necessarily mean demonic possession. The guy could just be suffering from a mental illness. Then again, judging by his desperation, Leo was willing to guess he'd already ruled that out.

"We going?" Ignis sounded interested. It was never a good sign when his familiar was interested in a case.

Still, it was a job and if the mortal was being influenced by a demonic or evil magick in any way, he was sworn to help. Sighing, Leo knew he was going to take the job. Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't be wary. If Ignis was interested in this job, then God only knows what was waiting for him in Tulsa.
Chapter One

Leo arrived in Tulsa a week later, and instantly felt the change in the air. It was like everything was super charged with energy, and he didn't like it. The ancient sensation he sensed sent chills down his spine. This area was dangerous for someone like him.

Thankfully, he was headed toward the edge of town, so hopefully he'd be far away from whatever it was that was causing this uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Even Ignis appeared upset, and not his usual surly mood. His familiar wouldn't stop hissing and clutching at Leo's back from his perch on the headrest of the driver's seat.

"We shouldn't be here," Ignis complained again.

Yeah, Leo already figured that out. Too bad though, he'd already contacted Danny Loreen and told him they, well he, was coming. He'd done his research before coming this far and he knew the local enforcers were an MC calling themselves the Twin Ravens. So long as he stayed far away from that group, and any other locals, Leo should manage to get out of Tulsa without being recognized. As added protection, he'd reinforced the magick hiding his true nature from other supernatural creatures.

"Why did you accept this job?" Ignis hissed. He'd obviously forgotten it was Ignis that showed the first glimmers of interest in this job.

Leo ignored the Salamander as he navigated the streets in his silver 2000 Honda Accord. It wasn't exactly the flashiest car in the world, and Leo liked it that way. Even more so when he was driving cross country for a job.

Stopping at a red light, Leo checked his GPS one more time to ensure he was on the right track. He could always just use magick to take him directly to Danny' home, but that could alert all sorts of nasty things to his presence. When the light turned green, Leo made a left turn and continued out of the main metropolitan area and toward a street lined with old housing.

Parking at the curb Leo looked up at the subdivided home that had at one point probably been a really nice manor for a rich business man. Now it was the same for several nonrelated people. His client lived in the ground floor apartment on the right.

Making sure his coat was on, Ignis hiding within the folds of the heavy material, Leo walked up to the door and knocked. He heard what sounded like someone tripping over something and a muttering a few choice words, before the door opened and a surprisingly beautiful young man stood before him. Blond hair, green eyes, and clear pale skin made him stand out enough, but add in the heart shaped face, cupid bow lips, and why in the hell did this guy have eyelashes that would make a woman jealous?

"Danny Loreen?" Leo asked, hoping that maybe he'd gotten the wrong address after all.

"Are you Leo?" so much for that, and hopes dashed, Leo nodded. "Thank you for coming so quickly. Come in, come in."

As Leo walked over the threshold he instantly noticed something off. Not like demonic energy off, but there was definitely something going on that wasn't entirely human. Whatever it was, he could rule out demonic possession, which was nice. Exorcising a demon that had taken possession of a human host was always a pain, and never left the human with fond memories.

"So?" Danny worried his hands as he looked about his stylishly decorated apartment. The man certainly had taste, modern taste. "What do we do?"

"You tell me what's going on, in detail," Leo answered.

He'd been trying to get a read on the man since he'd opened the door, but the most Leo could tell was he'd encountered some form of strong magick recently. That's it. The fact there was someone here in Tulsa powerful enough to confound him bothered Leo. He was over 200 years old, not old by immortal standards, but he prided himself on the fact he was powerful. Worse was the fact the magick didn't have a finite feeling. Almost like whoever cast it wasn't entirely one thing.

I'm not going to enjoy this job. Leo frowned when he watched Danny squirm. He wasn't talking.

"Danny? I need you to tell me exactly why you think you're possessed if I'm going to be able to help you," Leo smiled at the nervous human. At least that much he could tell. The pretty guy was certainly human.

"Well," Danny bit his bottom lip and looked up to Leo from beneath his long lashes. It was certainly an enticing look, one Leo ignored. "When I go out at night I can't remember what I've done when I wake up the next morning. I've been to the doctor and they just said I should stop drinking so much."

Yeah, Danny didn't exactly come off as a binge drinker. Maybe a bit of a partier, but not to the point of blacking out.

"Where do you go?"

"Twin Ravens MC strip club." With that Leo felt his heart freeze in his chest. Ignis hissed and dug his nails into Leo's back making him wince. "Are you okay?" Danny asked, noticing the movement.

"Yeah, stiff muscle from driving. No big deal," Leo lied smoothly. "Does it happen only when you've made plans to go to this strip club?"

Danny nodded.

Fuck me. Leo had no plans to go anywhere near the Twin Ravens while he was in town, and now his client was sending him directly there? This was not his lucky day.

"Give me the address and I'll check it out," Leo had to force the instructions passed his lips.

Again, Danny nodded before hurrying off into what looked like the kitchen.

"You're an idiot," Ignis complained. "What are you going to do if they recognize you?"

Yeah, that was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? What was he going to do if the enforcers at the club recognized him for who, or more accurately, what he was? Then again, it was believed his entire lineage had been wiped out, so hopefully he could use that to his advantage.

"Here you go," Danny came back to him and handed Leo a card.

"Thank you," Leo accepted the card and turned for the door. "I'll be by tomorrow to give you a report on what I find out."

Danny waved and continued to look nervous as all hell as Leo left the house and headed for his car. Glancing at the card he noticed the opening time and the fact he had several hours before this strip club would be opening its doors for patrons. That meant he had time to run to his hotel and get checked in.

* * * *

As always when he came to this club for a drink the music was deafening in its assault on his ears. Then again, there weren't too many places in Tulsa where someone like him could get a drink and enjoy it in relative peace. That being the case, Agnar was willing to put up with the music.

He did have to admit though, the place looked good, for being a repurposed garage. After the main bar had imploded during the Halloween fiasco—blood wraiths and ghouls attacked the Twin Ravens trying to get to a young sabretooth child who was later adopted by Blood—Blood had made the decision to use the remaining garage as their base of operations for the time being. At least until the new bar could be built.

"Refill?" the new waitress asked. Agnar glanced at her just long enough to say yes. He knew better than to piss off Wrath and the little lady was his. "Be right back."

Agnar nodded and continued to split his attention between the dancers on the floor and the girls on the stage. He wasn't sure where he was supposed to look. The gentler sex never really did do it for him. In his entire six hundred twenty-seven years of being on this earth he hadn't found a single female that even stirred his interest.

"Hey, you drinking alone?" Ignoring Coyote, Agnar accepted the drink from the waitress when she passed by. "Come on, let's chat."

"Go away," Agnar responded. He wasn't here to talk. Blood let him operate within the same area as the MC enforcers, but that didn't make them chums.

Coyote huffed in irritation, "You really do have a stick up your ass." Agnar said nothing to the obvious provocation of the Navajo shifter, as he left him to his bourbon on the rocks.

Deciding it was futile to try and watch the girls dancing, Agnar turned his attention to the people on the dance floor. Most were far too gone to even call what they were doing dancing, but it was still something to keep his mind occupied and off the endless parade of boredom and loneliness that seemed to be his life recently.

He watched as a group of men, drunk beyond what was considered safe for a human, were escorted to the door by Tank and a few other enforcers. They'd tried to climb up onto the stage and get to the girls. Look, don't touch, was a major rule in any strip club.

As the group left a man slipped inside, a man that didn't fit into the crowd. His dark brown hair, slicked back away from his face, and blue eyes were certainly an unusual combination that made him stand out as it was. It was his unease and how he stuck to the shadows that drew Agnar's attention though. That and the long leather trench coat. The newcomer instantly slipped into a back table tucked into the folds of the shadows of the club and just sat there watching everything.

The guy tensed when Gin, the new waitress, approached the table. He seemed flustered as he ordered a drink, Agnar frowned when he realized the man hadn't ordered alcohol but instead a club soda. Something was off with him.

Standing from his table, Agnar moved across the club until he was only one table away from the new guy. Maybe it was the fact he seemed suspicious that drew Agnar to him? His primary job as a bodyguard made him sensitive to such things. Still, that didn't feel accurate. There was something else drawing him to the blue-eyed man.

Agnar tensed when he spotted what looked like a lizard's head pop out of the man's leather coat. It appeared to hiss into the man's ear prompting the guy to say, "Witch craft, but not entirely human."

Eyes narrowed, Agnar realized this was no mere human, as he'd first thought. The lizard hissed again and the newcomer snapped angrily. Something was definitely off here, and before Agnar could figure out what it was Tara—the bartender—stepped up to the table.

"Have something against my drink?" Tara demanded, her voice dripping with venom.

"I'm driving," the man answered smoothly. "Last I checked it was illegal to drink and drive."

"Why the fuck come to a bar to drink then?" Tara asked.

"First place I found," he responded.

"Bullshit," Tara hissed, her fangs flashing in what little light was provided in the club. "Who, or more accurately, what are you?"

Agnar watched as the man went ramrod straight, worry entering his light blue eyes. Why did Agnar get the feeling he wasn't afraid so much of Tara but of her question?

"I have no idea what you mean," he said, standing. "Thanks for the drink." He placed a few bucks on the table and brushed passed Tara, "Blood sucker."

"What did you call me?" Tara hissed.

Instantly Tank was beside the guy, grabbing his arm, and Agnar gaped as the large lizard he'd caught a glimpse of earlier emerged from the new guy's coat and flat out bit the bouncer. It was easily four feet from nose to tail tip, but looked more like a salamander with obvious deep red scales. How in the hell had something like that stayed hidden beneath the man's coat? What did he have, an extra dimensional pocket in there? And what in the hell was it? Agnar couldn't remember seeing anything quite like that before. The closest creature he could think of was a Gila monster in resemblance.

"Back off bear." Did that lizard just speak?

"A Salamander," Tara gushed. "What the fuck? Who are you?"

"Told you this was a bad idea," the Salamander hissed.

"A job's a job," the man replied. "Now just shut up and," he froze, his eyes going wide as he started looking around the bar with a true look of panic now on his face.

Agnar stepped closer, a strange sensation making him move in to protect the guy. Shaking his head, he reminded himself the man was a stranger and was obviously some kind of supernatural. The fact he'd entered the MC without announcing himself could be seen as a threat. So why did he want to push Tank and Tara away from him and place himself between the guy and all those that would threaten him?

"What's your name?" The appearance of Blood made this entire situation that much weirder.

The guy shook his head as if trying to clear it of a fog. No doubt Blood had been reading his mind, or at least trying to.

"Leo Eaus, I'm an exorcist." Agnar almost laughed at that. Was this guy for real? An exorcist? Who the fuck did he think he was fooling with that line?

"Just roast them and let's go," the Salamander's tail wrapped around Leo's arm as he hissed at Blood. "We can still run."

Leo nodded and whispered, "Incanto."

Agnar opened his mouth to shout a warning when all the lights went out in the bar, followed by a pillar of flames engulfing Leo. The only thing Agnar registered in that split second between the lights going out and the fire surrounding him was that Leo's eyes and hair had both changed color, each taking on the appearance of the very fire he called on. And then everything went dark.

Find more exciting M/M romance by AM Halford: http://www.amhalford.com/

