Julia Talbot & B.A. Tortuga - Absinthe.pdf - Tortuga B A - terranova.books

This is a work of iction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination

or are used ictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,

locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely

coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or

the publisher.

Absinthe

Torquere Press Publishers

1380 Rio Rancho Blvd #1319

Rio Rancho, NM 87124

Cover illustration by BSClay

Published with permission

ISBN: 978-1-61040-601-7

www.torquerepress.com

this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except

as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information

address Torquere Press. Inc., 1380 Rio Rancho Blvd #1319,

Rio Rancho, NM 87124.

First Torquere Press Printing: October 2013

Printed in the USA

Absinthe

By Julia Talbot and BA Tortuga

The booze was lowing like the river herself, pouring

freely and Bartholome was feeling no pain. He’d had a

little more to drink than ever before, his cheeks bright with

little numb spots.

The entire pack was celebrating the birth of Celeste and

Henri’s pups -- two of them, a boy and a girl, as pretty as

pictures. A pack couldn’t ask for better. He leaned against

the back of his lawn chair, watching the celebration, a

goofy smile on his face.

“You gon’ make us some babies, cher ?” Old Ouisa

sipped her drink, bare feet swinging. “That white one that’s

yours, he ain’t never gon’ grow up yet, him. You could sire

a bunch of pups for us irst.”

“He’ll get there, Maw-maw,” Bartholome said, his smile

fading.

His Rene was different, was all. Loic had found the pup

bled near dry on the riverbank years ago, and though the

moon swore Rene was his mate, Bartholome worried on it.

Barthe was a good ten years older than the lad, after all, and

there wasn’t nothing sexual about the wee white pup, even

now that his balls had dropped. He was skinny and sad,

as pale as light and skittish as all get out, not even letting

Barthe too close to him.

The pup stood at the edges of the younger adults who

were dancing, playing together. Hell, all those young’uns

acted like Rene was an odd one out, but Bartholome wasn’t

afraid of being different; he had a man for a mate, after all.

What he did fear was that Rene would never grow into a

real mate, one who could satisfy Bartholome’s enormous

appetites. Right now he could just crush the pup, mar that

pale skin.

Their gazes met, Rene’s eyes the color of the sky itself,

the pale hair the color of the moon, and Rene stepped

toward him. The temptation to move closer was ierce, to

take his mate’s lips, learn the length of the lean body, but it

was too soon. Too early.

Rene was still just a kid.

He turned his back, breaking the connection. At some

point they would bond, would mate, but not now. No, now

Rene needed to learn things, to be with his age-mates and

explore.

“You want to come with me, bonhomme ?” Alicia stepped

up to him, rubbing against him, her body warm and lush,

ripe for the picking. “You have to be bored, waiting for

your fantome to grow.”

“A bit. He’ll come around.” Ghost, hmm? It suited Rene

to a T.

“Well, we could make the next alpha.” She did a little

dance against him, sensual, but not appealing, really. He

did have a mate, whether or not they were in the same bed.

“The stories about you make me wet, cher , and I’d make a

mother, me.”

“He’s mine.” The voice was soft, but came from close

by, shaking with emotion.

Alicia smiled, and there was no malice in it. She wasn’t

evil or nothin’, just looking out for her eventual progeny.

“You’re so young, fantome . He’s got plenty to go around.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Child, enough. Go on, little one, ind someone to teach

you how to please a man and then come on home.” Briar

leaned against the doorframe, the big male the only other

Barthe known to have the moon give another male as a

mate. “You ain’t no use to him ‘til you do.”

Those blue eyes moved to him, searching him, begging

him to refute the words.

Bartholome stiled the urge to growl at Briar. He wanted

Rene close, but he had to let the chiot grow up, too. It was

only fair. “You are just a pup, Rene. You need to do things.

Learn things. Get on out of here.”

It wasn’t until the laughter started -- the sound racing

through the pack like a bonire caught kindling -- that

Rene’s eyes dropped and the pup backed away into the

darkness, disappearing like the bayou swallowed the sun

every night.

If he’d known it would be six years before anyone

even caught a whiff of his fantome again, he might have

followed.

***

Rene headed up the rickety stairs to his beloved salon off

Frenchman’s, intending only to grab some of his clothes

and what cash he had left before heading west.

The deep South had not been kind to him, non , not a bit.

He’d run from Bartholome for well over a year, once the

big male had caught scent of him in New Orleans, and he

had thought he’d be safe in the sticks, but no.

His mate had found him.

He’d run until his pads were torn, until his fur was gray

from soot and mud. Then he’d found his stash of clothes

and ID and come home, hoping Bartholome was still

heading east.

God, he just wanted to lie down somewhere and sleep.

Just sleep.

He got his locks opened and stumbled inside, the scent

of home perfect. Oh. Shower. He could shower irst. He

tore off his ilthy clothes and limped to the bathroom, hand

slapping on the hot water tap.

Cold water spurted from the tap, but it didn’t take long

for the steam to pour out. Oh, yes.

Rene climbed in, knees buckling as he landed on the

Julia Talbot & B.A. Tortuga - Absinthe.pdf

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