Free Bayon/Jean-Baptiste (Bayou Heat) by Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright Page B

let her bully him.
    The perfect combination.
    With a short nod, he turned to melt into the shadows, his movements as silent as hers as they swiftly searched the dense foliage that surrounded the rapidly decaying cabin.
    Finding no sign of recent activity, she returned to the front of the cabin, studying it with a growing sense of familiarity.
    The tin roof was rusted, and the paint peeling from the wooden planks, but she had a vivid memory of the small wooden structure with its white shutters and shallow, wraparound porch.
    “It’s clear,” Bayon murmured as he moved to stand at her side, his brows drawing together at her obvious preoccupation. “Keira?”
    “I remember,” she said softly.
    “Remember what?”
    “Coming to this place.”
    She shivered as she had the mental image of walking up the once-cleared pathway, her mind distracted by thoughts of the next week’s rotation of guards she’d been working on rather than her surroundings.
    There hadn’t been any premonition of danger.
    Not until too late.
    Another shudder racked her body, threatening to steal her fragile courage until a warm arm wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her against a solid male chest.
    “I’m here,” he promised in low tones. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
    Absorbing the strength he offered, Keira sucked in a deep, steadying breath and allowed the memories to flow through her mind.
    “I was early. I’d gotten Parish to cover my duties.” Her head tilted back to study the thick canopy of trees that nearly blocked out the sky. “The moonlight was just beginning to peek through the leaves as I walked up the steps.”
    Still holding her tight, Bayon led her up the sagging steps, his gaze scanning the darkness for hidden dangers.
    “Did you smell anything?” he asked.
    “Yes.” She gave a sharp nod. “Humans. But that wasn’t unexpected. The cabin was used by the local gator hunters.” Her nose flared as she abruptly recalled the weird, sour scent that had surrounded the cabin. “And the same stench I’d caught on Sean the night before.”
    They stepped past the door that had rotted off its hinges and into the cramped kitchen. Bayon frowned as he moved across the floor to study the interior of the cabin. There wasn’t much to see. On one wall was a row of rotting cabinets that hung at a drunken angle. Below the cabinets was a short countertop that was chipped and covered in layers of dust with a sink at the end. On the other side was a sofa and chair that had been invaded by a growing population of rodents. In the middle was a kitchen table, and at the far back a door opened to a bedroom that was barely big enough for a narrow cot.
    Bayon turned back to stab her with a narrowed gaze. “Show me where he was waiting.”
    Keira pointed toward a spot directly in front of the empty doorjamb. “Here.”
    “That close to the door?” he pressed.
    She paused, shuffling through her memories. She’d walked across the porch and yanked open the door. She’d been startled to discover Sean standing directly in her path.
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    She frowned at her mate’s persistence. “I don’t understand.”
    “He wasn’t expecting you until later.” Bayon waved a hand around the cramped interior of the cabin. “Why was he standing at the door? Did he hear you arriving?”
    Oh. Keira paced the floor, struggling to clear away the murkiness that made it nearly impossible to recall exactly what had happened. The door had opened, and Sean had been standing there…
    Wait. He hadn’t just been standing there, he’d been pressing against the door.
    “He tried to keep me out,” she muttered.
    “Because there was something he didn’t want you to see?”
    She continued to pace, her heart suddenly lodged in her throat, and her palms damp with sweat as she pressed past the fog in her mind.
    Yes. She’d shoved open the door and then forced her way past Sean, more annoyed than worried by his strange behavior. And