“Just fatigue from the long flight,” Shogun’s lieutenant muttered, helping him forward. Seung Kwon gave both Chin-Hwa and Dak-Ho a warning look to watch their backs as he ushered Shogun forward.
The two muscular enforcers bringing up the rear exchanged sidelong glances as they cleared the Jetway. None of the tense, silent exchanges were lost on Shogun. Pure humiliation burned his face. He should have passed on Sir Rodney’s kind invitation. Were it not for the insistence of his half brother, Hunter, he surely would have. It had been bad enough that his need for Sasha was a private matter known and acknowledged only by him, but now, once again on North American soil, the desire to be with her had become excruciating.
Shogun wiped the sheen of sweat beading his brow, sipping in shallow inhalations. Her scent littered the air. She was already in New Orleans. To covet another man’s wife was dishonorable; to covet one’s brother’s wife was tragic.
Seung Kwon’s steady hand landed on his shoulder. “Cousin, are you still not well?” He stared into Shogun’s eyes, his voice low and private and laden with concern. “The long flight, the lack of raw food so close to the moon shift… or maybe some human contagion is simply passing through your system as you purge it. They are germ conveyors-sickly beasts-and we’ve been in recycled air so long… unnatural for wolves.”
Watching his cousin try to understand what he could never impart twisted Shogun’s conscience. The only response he could give right now was a curt nod. He had to remember that above all else, he was a head of state. Deep within his core he sought that element of strength that made him the alpha clan leader of the Southeast Asian Werewolf Federation. The fact that Seung was also searching for something plausible, something that would allow him to save face, only seemed to make the humiliation more profound. How could one explain that losing Sasha was like losing a limb… or that the other women he’d burned his way through once home in Korea were merely prosthetic devices-temporary, clumsy by comparison, without warmth and fluidity and offering only dulled sensation, even though they were necessary, aesthetically appealing alternatives. But they would never be Sasha.
Damn what his aunt and her elderly advisors had to say about the appearance of grieving for the Shadow female. His mother’s sister sounded like his dead sister Lei. Lady Jung Suk’s name fit her well: chaste rock.
What would a Were Snow Leopard know of wolf causes or passions? Just because his mother, father, and sister were now deceased didn’t give his aunt any familial rights of inheritance or a place in his den of government. So who was Lady Jung Suk to attempt to now interject herself into the running of a Werewolf Federation?
The Snows never mated with the ferocity of the wolf or stayed in a familial pack, never bonded for generation upon generation… They were loners who lived in the barren, icy mountains of Tibet and only came together to procreate once a season. And now his aunt would attempt to counsel him about appearances?
Shogun almost spat but refrained. She needed to be more concerned about how her dead sister and dead niece had committed treason, rather than trying to pretend that him marrying a nice Korean female Were and bearing an heir would wipe away the sins of the past… or allow her into his advisors’ council.
How could anyone understand how the phantom pangs of holding Sasha near, his fingers playing against her supple skin, tasting her mouth, now haunted him? Even though their intimate union had never been fully consummated and had occurred long before he’d known that Hunter was his half brother, the memory of his sensual shadow dance with her refused to leave him.
It was so much worse now that he was back in New Orleans. He could almost feel her in the air and he tightened his grip on his carry-on duffel bag to keep from howling. Clan leaders could not go to war over a woman… Brothers could not go to war over a woman. Any hint of impropriety for such dubious reasons would make both men lose face. Hunter had saved his life; he had saved Hunter’s life. Shogun repeated each fact to himself, making each one a silent mantra. A fragile peace between the once rival Werewolf and Shadow Wolf Federations had been forged, had followed the prophecy of a reign of peace ushered in by an amazing female of their kind… yet she also held the keys to more than mere peace; she owned both the keys and a lock on two men’s hearts.
Tears of regret filled his eyes and quickly burned away as his cousin lowered his gaze, seeming confused and ashamed for him, but clearly not sure why. Shogun let out a slow and quiet breath to steady himself. The humor of fate was cruel. What the hell was wrong with him? This sentimental weakness was not the way of the wolf!
A few moments of reflection disappeared behind Shogun’s normally controlled facade. He squared his shoulders and glanced around at his men. He refused to allow them to witness any distress that he owned. His wolf struggled for freedom but was trapped inside his skin waiting on the full moon, waiting on her. That was a private pain that he’d take to his grave, if necessary.
“I’ll be fine,” Shogun finally said as he briefly closed his eyes, again recalling Sasha’s heated touch during their shadow dance in the teahouse, reliving it in his mind as he’d done a thousand times. “It will pass.”
The figure moved out of the shadows and stood by the tree line near the Bayou House. Within moments, Buchanan clan sentries had picked up the scent, and Butch strolled over with a smile.
“It is in place. Make sure you do your part when the time comes.”
Butch smiled, his gold-covered teeth gleaming. “Don’t worry, we will. The heads of the Wolf Federation will fall.”
“Excellent.”
Before the wolves could howl their agreement, the shadowed figure was gone.
This was absolutely insane. Returning to Ethan’s bar had resulted in nothing after an hour of talking to distraught employees. Hunter looked like he was ready to climb out of his own skin. But Sasha had to talk to Claudia, the waitress that was usually on Desidera’s shift.
“Are you sure that she didn’t have any beef with anybody around town?” Sasha said, willing her voice to remain calm.
Claudia shook her head. “Only a little fracas with Mike, but that was stupid.”
“Mike the bartender?” Sasha said, now looking at Hunter.
“Yeah,” the young woman said, her nervous gaze going between Hunter and Sasha. “He’s due in at four.”
“Uh-huh,” Hunter muttered and then fell silent when Sasha shot him a look.
“So what was this little argument about?”
The young woman glanced around and then smoothed her auburn hair away from her round face. “Okay, this was not the kind of thing I want to see a guy thrown in the dungeon about, all right?”
“That’s not what we’re here for,” Sasha said calmly. She ignored Hunter’s raised eyebrow.
“Okay,” Claudia said quickly, glancing around again. “He liked Desi, but she was
“When was that?” Sasha stared into the frightened woman’s eyes. “Believe me, we are not going to be locking him up.”
“It was the day before everything happened.” Claudia let out a hard breath. “He got mad at her and said that she was the kind who would only lay down with rich kings that paid for it. But whatever she told him, he never said a mean word to her again.”
Sasha didn’t blink. “I already know about the Blood Oasis, so spill it.”
“Okay, okay, she told Mike to fuck off because she was an employee over there and when he didn’t believe her, she flashed her card. The guy went white, apologized, and left her alone, okay? Mike is a really decent guy. He’s not a… you know.” Claudia looked around quickly again and lowered her voice. “He’s not a murderer.”
Hunter wiped his palms down his face and pushed off the ladies’ changing-room wall. “Yeah, we gathered. C’mon Sasha, everything here’s a dead end.”
Hunter was right. Ethan’s place was making her skin crawl, and her nerves were so shot she could scream. Whoever killed Desidera had obviously found and removed what the poor girl had tried to stash for Sir Rodney, leaving them at yet another stupid dead end. Ethan had been virtually no help, either, not having a clue as to what it could have been-for all his Fae knowledge.
Sasha’s cell phone buzzed and it gave her such a start that her hand flew to her chest as Hunter whirled at the sound.
