BAYOU NOËL

Christmas In The Wildlands

By

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 by Alexandra Ivy and Laura
Wright

Editor: Julia Ganis

Cover Art by Patricia Schmitt (Pickyme)

* * * * *

This book is a work of fiction. The names,
characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's
imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be
construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead,
actual events, locales or organizations is entirely
coincidental.

All rights reserved. With the exception of
quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in
whole or in part by any means existing without written permission
from the author.

ISBN - 9780986064142

Dear Reader,

We want to thank you all so much for
supporting this series. It means the world to us. As a little gift
at this holiday season, we’d like to invite you to peek inside the
Wildlands back before the start of the Bayou Heat series. It’s
2005, Raphael has no mate, and though the Pantera still grieve the
loss of their ability to produce young inside their waning magical
boundaries, there is much love, laughter and celebration to be
had.

We truly hope you’ll enjoy this holiday short
story.

Joyeux Bayou Noël!

Alexandra and Laura

Paris, 2005

Night had just fallen when Garrick Loriot
strode into his opulent Parisian apartment with a scowl on his
lean, starkly handsome face. After months of delicate negotiations,
he’d at last reached a tentative deal to purchase an apartment
building in Montmartre to use as a safe house for Pantera
Diplomats, only to have the negotiations fall apart when it was
declared a historical landmark.

Seriously. Was there anything in this city
that wasn’t a fucking historical landmark?

His pissy mood, however, swiftly disappeared
when he flipped on the light and caught sight of the envelope that
had been slipped beneath his door.

It was from her. He could just catch the
scent of vanilla mixed with earthy cypress. His heart did that
familiar leap as he bent to grab it off the priceless Parisian
carpet.

He always looked forward to hearing from
Molly. Especially this time of year. With his father deceased,
these letters were his one and only connection to the Wildlands and
the mother who had never fully recovered from a near-fatal
accident.

Like both his parents, Garrick was a born
Diplomat which meant he never knew where he would be from one week
to another. He depended on those letters to keep him connected to
his home.

Unlike those of the previous Nurturers who’d
cared for his mother, Molly’s letters weren’t dry reports of
medical facts. Hers felt like family, and were filled with wit and
humor, and captured his mother’s spirit, making him feel as if he
were there.

And after his shitty day, he could use a
pick-me-up.

Tearing open the envelope, he dropped into a
chair near the window, his six-foot-plus frame dressed in one of
the Armani suits Molly always called his “stick up his ass armor.”
And by the white glow of the Noël lights strewn on buildings,
lampposts and even the Eiffel Tower in the distance, he read:

Dear Mr. Loriot:

I am writing to inform you of my resignation
as caretaker to your mother, Virginia Loriot, effective December
24.

This was not an easy decision for me to
make. These past five years have been very rewarding, but it’s time
for me to move on. I have accepted a position at Medical, and will
be starting straight away.

Thank you for the opportunity to work with
your mother. I wish her nothing but the best. You’ll be pleased to
know I’ve found a suitable replacement. Virginia has met and
approved her.

Best regards,

Molly Cochell

What. The. Fuck.

It was as if all the air had been pulled from
the room. And the lights, which had only a moment ago twinkled
merrily behind him, dimmed. Garrick crushed the letter in his fist,
wondering if it was some kind of sick joke.

No. It
couldn’t be. Molly didn’t play cruel jokes. It wasn’t in her
nature. She was kind and sweet.
Too damned sweet
.

So what the hell was going on? She’d seemed
happy and content the last time he was there. When was that now…?
Nine, ten months ago? Had something happened while he was gone? Had
someone made her unhappy? What was this new position she’d found?
At Medical…

His jaw tightened.

At Medical, with all the other Nurturers.
Females, yes. But many single males, as well. Christ, maybe she was
looking for a mate…

The thought had him out of his chair and
heading toward the phone to order a car before he even realized
he’d made the decision to leave.

Screw the negotiations.

It could wait. Everything could wait.

He was going home for Noël.

Molly glanced around the room that had been
her home for…

What was it now? Five years.

God almighty.

How had time passed without her ever
noticing?

It seemed only yesterday that she’d arrived
at the elegant, rigidly formal house near the center of the
Wildlands. As a newly trained Healer she’d been eager to prove her
worth by tending to the infamous, always acerbic Virginia Loriot.
The female was considered one of the finest Pantera Diplomats ever
born.

Of course, Virginia was the reason she’d come
to this home. But Garrick was the reason she’d stayed.

With a low hiss she slammed the door on her
traitorous thoughts.

She was done thinking about the male who’d
stolen her heart. After five years, only an idiot would continue to
hope that her feelings would be returned.

And while Molly was many things, she wasn’t
an idiot.

Time to pack it up and call it a day.

Closing the lid on the last suitcase, Molly
shoved her fingers through her unruly mop of golden curls that
contrasted with the dark, velvet beauty of her eyes. She’d often
regretted her resemblance to a china doll.

Who wanted to be cute and cuddly? Even if she
was a Nurturer. She wanted to be a tall, super-slinky brunette who
screamed SEX APPEAL. Ha. She’d bet her favorite pair of Jimmy Choos
that Garrick wouldn’t have ignored her then. Hell, she would’ve had
to lock the door to keep him out of her bed.

Dammit.

She was doing it again.

On the point of grabbing her bags, she
hesitated as she heard the unmistakable sound of Virginia’s cane
hitting her door and shoving it open.

The older female might be frail, but she
still commanded the entire house with the precision of a military
general.

She even had the look of a general.

Entering the room, Virginia stood with a
rigid posture, her body tall and thin and her face angular. As
always, her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of
her neck.

“You sure you have to leave?” the older
female demanded.

Molly swallowed a wistful sigh.

She didn’t know when or how it’d happened,
but at some point she’d started to think of this place as her
home.

Perhaps not so surprising.

She’d lost her parents in an accident years
ago, and while she’d been taken in by other Nurturers, she’d never
truly had a place to call her own. It was understandable she would
ache to build a sense of home and family.

A pity that the male she loved didn’t feel
the same way.

The painful reminder was all she needed to
stiffen her spine.

“It’s time.”

Virginia arched a dark brow, a mysterious
smile tugging at her lips. “You know Garrick won’t be pleased about
this.”

“
I can’t
worry about him anymore.” Molly shrugged, though just the mention
of his name sent curls of awareness through her. “I have to get on
with my life.”
Before it’s too late
, she silently added.

“You know you always have a home here with
me,” the female affirmed.

Molly did know.

Virginia could be cool, even aloof, but over
the years, Molly had slowly discovered the caring female beneath
the proper façade.

“I appreciate that,” she said, her gaze
skimming over the room that looked starkly bare now that she’d
packed away the small touches that had, only a few days ago, made
it seem like home. “But I don’t truly belong.”

The older female looked as if she might
argue, before she gave a small shake of her head. “Maybe this is
for the best,” she said beneath her breath. “Garrick needs a little
wake-up call.”

Molly frowned in confusion. “What do you
mean?”

“Ms. Loriot,” Sylvia called, poking her head
in the doorway. The Nurturer who had been sent to take Molly’s
place was a young, fresh-faced, innocent, with dark hair and kind
blue eyes. Molly didn’t doubt for a second that she would be a more
than adequate replacement for her. “Time for your medicine.”

“You go with Sylvia,” Molly urged. “I’m going
to take my suitcases downstairs.”

The female cast her a warning look. “Don’t
forget to say goodbye before you leave.”

“Course not,” Molly assured her.

She felt a pang of loss as Virginia left the
room. She would miss the older female. Despite her sharp-edged
tongue, Virginia had become a true friend. And the closest thing
Molly had to family.

With one last look around the room, she
grabbed her bags and easily carried them downstairs.

Virginia had offered the assistance of her
household staff to haul Molly’s belongings back to the dormitory
used by unmated Nurturers, but she’d declined.

She needed to leave as she’d arrived.

Bags in hand…her heart filled with hope for
the future.

Call it closure.

The thought had barely flared through her
mind when the door flew open, hitting the wall with enough force to
make the priceless paintings rattle on the wall.

Molly shivered, but it wasn’t because of the
blast of chilled, early evening air. No, that honor belonged to the
tall, dark-haired male with rich caramel skin and eyes the color of
melted honey.

Garrick.

Molly felt as if she’d been kicked in the
gut.

God. Even after five years the sight of him
still managed to steal her breath.

He was so freaking gorgeous.

The chiseled perfection of his features. The
ebony gloss of his hair that had been neatly trimmed. The whipcord
body that was encased in one of his outrageously expensive suits,
this one a pearl gray with a dark burgundy tie.

He looked like he should be stepping off the
cover of GQ. Until you glanced into those honey eyes.

Then it was easy to see the razor-sharp
intelligence and lethal danger of his cat that lurked just below
the civilized surface.

And tonight, his cat was more obvious than
usual.

“What the hell are you thinking?” he snarled,
his powerful presence cloaking her.

Molly had always found it ironic that this
male was so distantly elegant, and yet carried the scent of the
wild elements.

Tonight he smelled like an impending
thunderstorm.

“Garrick,” she breathed, the suitcases
dropping from her suddenly numb fingers. “You’re supposed to be in
Paris.”

He prowled forward, his expression clamped
down tight. “Your letter brought my ass home.” He halted mere
inches from her, his anger whipping through the cavernous formal
living room. “You aren’t going anywhere, Molly. So you can bring
those bags right upstairs. Better yet,” he reached down and picked
up one of her bags. “I’ll do it for you.”