Gage nodded. “I’ll get everyone in here.”
“I have to get back to the Inn. Saria had to leave because her leopard was goin’ crazy with Bijou there.”
“Did Bijou’s leopard actually emerge?” Gage asked, his tone cautious.
“No.” Remy’s abrupt answer didn’t invite discussion.
Gage ignored him. “Her mother? Bodrie?”
“Not Bodrie,” Remy said firmly. “He didn’t have any leopard in him.”
“You certain about that?” Gage replied. “His sexual excesses were legendary. That’s a by-product of a leopard without a mate.”
Remy shook his head. “I would have known. My leopard would have known. I was around him a few times.” There was distaste in his voice. He couldn’t help it. Taking an eight-year-old child into a room filled with naked men and women and endless drugs sickened him, and every time he thought of how he’d chosen the easy way out—palming her off on Pauline and taking off—he wanted to kick himself all over again. “Bodrie was no leopard,” he repeated.
“You can’t know that for certain. It isn’t as if we haven’t had our own mess here in the lair with half leopards and crazed leopards doin’ things they shouldn’t. Look at Bannaconni’s family. And right here, Tregre’s family. Not all leopards are worth anything,” Gage reminded.
Remy swung around. “What kind of crack is that?”
Gage didn’t back up even a step, although Remy was once again seeing in heat images. “It’s no crack. I know you didn’t like Bodrie. You never talked about why, but you had to have a reason. I liked his music, but I didn’t know the man. I wasn’t referrin’ to Bijou.”
Remy took a breath. The stench of the stalker felt like an infection in his lungs. “Sorry, Gage. I’m a little jumpy. Her leopard didn’t emerge last night and when she wakes up . . .” He shook his head. “She isn’t a one-night stand kind of woman. I was pretty brutal last night with her and she was innocent. I need to get to her and explain what’s goin’ on before she takes it into her head to bolt.”
“Imbecile. Remy, are you insane? She wasn’t even experienced and you just left her? What if her leopard decides she’s ready and you’re not around? She goes runnin’ in the swamp or bayous and half the lair will be chasin’ her whether you’ve marked her as yours or not. You know what happens to males when a female is in her time.”
“She’s exhausted.” Remy glanced at his watch. Like everything he’d done, there were risks. He calculated them against the benefits. He didn’t have much more time, which was why he was directing his brother to get the members of the lair to his apartment now that the forensic team was finished.
“She’d better be.” Gage shook his head in disgust. “You’re a damn good detective and a smart son of a bitch, but you don’ know jack about women, bro.”
Remy was beginning to be more than uneasy about leaving Bijou. Gage was right, although he wasn’t going to admit it.
“Have you talked to Saria? Is she back at the Inn?” There was worry in Gage’s voice.
Remy realized he relied heavily on his own reputation. The males in the lair had grown up around him. They knew him and his leopard. Few could hope to best him in a challenge, even if they tried double-teaming him as they had Drake. If you crossed one Boudreux, you crossed all of them. Remy had the reputation of swift and terrifying punishment, and the males had always backed off if he stepped into a fight. But an unmated female was rare in their lair. More, Bijou was a celebrity with millions of dollars. On top of that she was beautiful and intelligent. Perhaps Gage had a point and he’d overestimated his lair’s fear of him.
His gut churned. Turned over. Yeah. He’d been an idiot to leave her. He needed to get back to the Inn as soon as possible.
* * *
BIJOU pried her lashes open, groaning, afraid to face the light—or herself. Even the slightest movement sent pain crashing through her body. Every muscle hurt. She hurt in places she hadn’t known existed. Bijou groaned and threw her hand over her eyes. Last night had been the most intense, exhilarating and absolute best night of her life. So why couldn’t she just admit she loved every second of it and move on?
Why lie in bed and feel like she could never face Remy again? She was grown up, for God’s sake. She could have a night of crazy sex and face him the next day, couldn’t she? She let her breath out slowly and forced herself to sit up, drawing her knees up and rocking herself gently back and forth. She was traumatized, that’s why. Totally, absolutely traumatized. She’d never done anything like this in her life. What had gotten into her?
She’d been utterly shameless. She groaned and wiped her hand over her face. Did it have to be Remy? Her Remy? Her white knight? Her fictionalized, fantasy Remy who was her dream man. She’d had a one-night stand with him. Given up her virginity to him in a wild night of crazed sex. She’d done things she hadn’t ever imagined—or even knew she could do—and she loved it. She was some kind of pervert when it came to sex.
She always thought she had inhibitions, scarred from seeing her father on the floor having sex with multiple women. How many times had she walked into the kitchen, or their enormous living room or gone out to the pool and found him actually having sex. He didn’t even stop when she walked in, just looked up and asked her what she wanted.
She’d been around three when she began to realize what he was doing with those women. Her nannies. The housekeeper. The maids. They came and went as he tired of them. When she was seven her teacher came to the house to talk to Bodrie about absences. He’d had sex with her right there, nearly on the front steps, right in front of Bijou. When Bodrie refused to see her after that, she’d tried using Bijou to get to him. When that plan failed, she’d hated Bijou and had made her life miserable.
How could she possibly have turned out like Bodrie? But she would have had sex with Remy on the front lawn. On the hood of her own car. Anywhere. She wouldn’t have even recognized she was in a public place. She was a nymphomaniac. There could be no other explanation.
A sound escaped. A low, keening moan. She rocked herself back and forth for comfort. There was no blaming Remy. She would have gone into town and seduced someone, maybe—God help her—a total stranger. Remy at least had saved her from that humiliation.
How could she have gone from someone who refused to have sex with a man even when she was semi-interested, to such a total crazed, nymphomaniac? The last couple of days she and Saria had been out of step. Had she inadvertently flirted with Drake? Could she possibly be the kind of woman who would sleep with her best—her only—friend’s husband?
She groaned again and once more covered her face with her hands. Her first inclination was to pack up everything and just get the hell out of New Orleans, but she knew from experience, she couldn’t outrun who she was. No one could. The only good thing that would be accomplished would be not having to face Remy and not acting like her father in front of him ever again.
She didn’t want to lose Saria as a friend. All she could do was apologize and move out. She could easily stay at a hotel until the renovations on her apartment were done. Avoiding Remy wouldn’t be easy if he didn’t want to be avoided, but she didn’t trust herself around him. And maybe, hopefully, the physical attraction she felt toward him had been simply confused with her fantasies of him, and now that they’d had sex, she wouldn’t think about him anymore.