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  WILD

  NEED

  A CHIASSON STORY

  DONNA GRANT

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Wild Need

  © 2014 by DL Grant, LLC

  Excerpt from Burning Desire copyright © 2014 by Donna Grant

  Cover design © 2014 by Leah Suttle

  ISBN 10: 19420170006

  ISBN 13: 978-1942017004

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book, or a portion thereof, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  www.DonnaGrant.com

  Available in ebook and print editions

  PRONUNCIATIONS & GLOSSARY

  GLOSSARY:

  Andouille (ahn-doo-ee) & Boudin (boo-dan)

  Two types of Cajun sausage. Andouille is made with pork while boudin with pork and rice.

  Bayou (by-you)

  A sluggish stream bigger than a creek and smaller than a river

  Beignet (bin-yay)

  A fritter or doughnut without a hole, sprinkled with powdered sugar

  Cajun (‘ka-jun)

  A person of French-Canadian descent born or living along southern Louisiana.

  Etoufee (ay-two-fay)

  Tangy tomato-based sauce dish usually made with crawfish or shrimp and rice

  Gumbo (gum-bo)

  Thick, savory soup with chicken, seafood, sausage, or wild game

  Hoodoo (hu-du)

  Also known as “conjure” or witchcraft. Thought of as “folk magic” and “superstition”. Some say it is the main force against the use of Voodoo.

  Jambalaya (jom-bah-LIE-yah)

  Highly seasoned mixture of sausage, chicken, or seafood and vegetables, simmered with rice until liquid is absorbed

  Maman (muh-mahn)

  Term used for grandmother

  Parish

  A Louisiana state district; equivalent to the word county

  Sha (a as in cat)

  Term of affection meaning darling, dear, or sweetheart.

  Voodoo (vu-du) – New Orleans

  Spiritual folkways originating in the Caribbean. New Orleans Voodoo is separate from other forms (Haitian Vodou and southern Hoodoo). New Orleans Voodoo puts emphasis on Voodoo Queens and Voodoo dolls.

  Zydeco (zy-dey-coh)

  Accordion-based music originating in Louisiana combined with guitar and violin while combing traditional French melodies with Caribbean and blues influences

  PRONUNCIATION:

  Arcineaux (are-cen-o)

  Chiasson (ch-ay-son)

  Davena (dav-E-na)

  Delia (d-ee-l-ee-uh)

  Delphine (d-eh-l-FEEN)

  Dumas (dOO-mah-s)

  Lafayette (lah-fai-EHt)

  LaRue (l-er-OO)

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A special thanks goes out to my family who lives in the bayous of Louisiana. Those summers I spent there are some of my most precious memories. I also need to send a shout-out to my team – Bridgette B, Candace C, Stephanie D, Kelly M, Kristin N, Vanessa R. You guys are the bomb. Hats off to my editor, Chelle Olson, and cover design extraordinaire, Leah Suttle. Thank you all for helping me get this story out!

  Lots of love to my amazing husband, Steve, and my kiddos - Gillian, and Connor. Thanks for putting up with my hectic schedule and for knowing when it was time that I got out of the house. And a special hug for my furbabies Lexi, Sheba, Sassy, Tinkerbell, and Diego.

  Last but not least, my readers. You have my eternal gratitude for the amazing support you show me and my books. Y’all rock my world. Stay tuned at the end of this story for the first sneak peek of Burning Desire, Dark Kings book 3 out Sepember 30, 2014. Enjoy!

  Xoxo

  Donna

  dpgroup.org

  PROLOGUE

  Algiers, Louisiana on the outskirts of New Orleans

  Six years earlier...

  The clear, cool October night was shattered with screams.

  And blood.

  Davena stood in horrified fear as she watched her mother being ripped apart in front of her. There was no attacker for her to see, no one to try and save her mother from. There was only...magic.

  “I told her,” Delia whispered.

  Blood coated every inch of their small living room from cut after cut that appeared on their mother. Through the window, Davena could see the cause of all the horror. She was dressed in all white, her midnight skin cast in an orange glow from the flames she brought to life around her.

  In all her seventeen years, Davena had never thought to see her family attacked by Delphine. Her mother kept clear of the Voodoo priestess, so what would make Delphine attack?

  Delia grabbed Davena’s arm and tried to turn her from the window. “We need to go. Now!”

  But Davena couldn’t leave. It was their home and their lives being ripped apart. She wiped at a tear and rushed to her mother who now lay still and quiet, her eyes staring blankly up at Davena. She tried to gather her mother against her, but the blood made it impossible to get a hold of her. Davena took her mother’s hand instead.

  Suddenly, her mother’s head turned and her brown eyes locked with Davena. “Run,” she whispered with her last breath.

  Davena looked up as she heard the crackle of fire. Smoke billowed up from beneath the front door. She quickly covered her head with her arm as all the windows shattered and flames shot high. The fire consumed her mother, and Davena barely got away without being burned. Hands grabbed her from behind and half-dragged, half-carried her into the hall.

  Davena looked into her sister’s face. Delia’s green eyes were wide, and there were tear marks down her cheeks. She had a bag on her shoulder overflowing with clothes. Delia let it drop as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. “She’s not going to let us live. We’re going to burn alive, Davena. All the doors are locked with her magic.”

  They could either remain huddled in fear, or they could fight. Davena was about to head to her room to see about climbing out the window when she remembered her mother had foreseen this day - and a way out.

  Davena grabbed Delia’s bag. “Get up,” she said through the thickening smoke.

  Delia coughed, her arm covering her mouth. She climbed to her feet with the help of the wall. “Why?”

  “Because we’re getting out.”

  Davena blinked against the smoke stinging her eyes and burning her throat. She desperately wanted to breathe in clean air. Their time was running out. If they didn’t hurry, they would never get out.

  Fire flared up just as they reached the doorway to their mother’s room, as if it knew they were trying to get free. Delia screamed. Davena hastily covered her sister’s mouth and put a finger on her lips to urge her to silence.

  If Delphine thought they were alive, she wouldn’t stop. Ever.

  Davena pulled her sister in front of her and then shoved her through the flames. A moment later, she jumped through them herself. The fire singed her skin, the heat crushing. Never in her life had she ever been afraid of anything. Now she was terrified of everything – especially fire.

  It destroyed without conscience, killed without consideration. It was judge, jury, and executioner.

  And it had its sights set on them.

  The room was enveloped with flames. Delia’s screams could be heard over the roar of the fire. Davena didn’t try to hush her sister again. The screams would help Delphine think they were dying.

  Davena focused on shoving aside the dresser to reveal a small door. She managed
to slide it a few inches when the flames suddenly fell back. Hesitating, Davena listened and heard the tell-tale squeak of the front door hinges. Delphine wasn’t going to let the flames kill them. She was coming for them herself.

  Delia was on the floor coughing uncontrollably. Davena shoved the dresser with all her might, her teeth gritted. Suddenly, the dresser slid against the carpet enough that the small door became visible. She let out a relieved sigh at seeing it. Davena had been a small child when her mother had told her about it, and then never brought it up again. Until that moment, Davena thought she had dreamed it.

  But her mother was nothing if not prepared.

  With tears stinging her eyes from the smoke and her mother’s gruesome death, Davena reached for the handle on the door without thinking. She hissed in a breath as the metal burned her skin. It was all she could do to hold in the scream of pain.

  Davena pulled her hand back as some of her skin stuck to the handle. She blinked through her rapidly falling tears. There was no time to see to the wound. She snatched a shirt hanging out of Delia’s bag and wrapped it around her hand before she reached for the handle again.

  It took three tugs, but the door finally gave and flew outward. Davena glanced inside and saw nothing but cobwebs and a tunnel. It was their only chance at freedom – and life.

  She grabbed Delia and shoved her through the door. Her sister landed on her hands and turned her head around to look back. Davena hesitated in the door as the light from the fire illuminated Delia. The terror that found them that night would be with them for the rest of their lives.

  That second of hesitation was all Davena allowed them before she stepped into the tunnel and closed the door behind her. They crawled through the tiny, dense space for over fifty feet with no end in sight. The air was oppressive and sweltering, but at least they were no longer in danger of burning to death.

  She was glad she couldn’t see what was around her, because she was certain it wasn’t just the ground that her hands kept touching. Her right hand throbbed in time with her heart from the burn. Later, she would have to see to it, and no doubt it would be impossible to use for a while, as well as scar, but how could she complain about that when she had her life?

  Davena didn’t know how far they had crawled. The silence was as eerie as the flames. Just when she thought she couldn’t go anymore, she heard the faint trickle of water.

  “Do you hear that?” Delia whispered.

  Davena swallowed hard as she recognized the drainage ditch the tunnel led them to. “We made it.”

  Delia gave a soft whoop and stood suddenly, her foot splashing in the water. “We actually did it!”

  Davena climbed out of the tunnel and wiped her good hand on her filthy jeans. She and her sister were both covered in sweat and dirt, their faces stained black with smoke, but they were alive. Davena sucked in mouthfuls of clean, fresh air and looked to the night sky that was red-orange with the flames from their home.

  “She’ll find the tunnel,” Delia said and motioned to the tunnel. “You know it.”

  Davena adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “She’ll burn the house until there’s nothing but ash. There won’t even be bodies to identify.”

  “I hope you’re right. If not, she’ll come for us.”

  “No,” Davena said confidently. “We’re safe now.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Crowley, Louisiana

  Present day...

  Beau Chiasson was tired and hot. The September sun was brutal on the already roasted earth. The summers were always vicious in the bayou, but this past one had been exceedingly so. The thick, ominous rain clouds tempted everyone with the promise of a brief respite from the heat.

  He put his truck into park and reached the store just as the first fat drops of rain landed on the windshield. Beau smiled and leaned his head back as he closed his eyes. The sound of the rain was soothing, restful. He didn’t know how long he sat there before he opened his eyes and saw the steam rising from the concrete as the rain continued. It was now a steady downpour that would cool the temperatures several degrees.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of golden blond, and immediately his gaze snapped in that direction. Instantly, he sat up and focused. Beau could still recall the first time he saw Davena Arcineaux. It had been just a year before, with the same stormy weather. She had swerved to miss a dog running across the road and landed her car in the ditch.

  Beau hadn’t helped her that day. Others had been quick to reach her before he could. She had stepped out of her car into the mud and was immediately drenched.

  He still wasn’t sure if it was the uncertainty he saw in her gaze as she looked around, or the take-charge attitude she had as she got her sister out of the car. Either way, there was definitely something appealing and altogether fascinating about her.

  Snapping out of his reverie, his gaze followed Davena as she walked laughing in the rain. Most shielded themselves from getting wet, but not Davena. She welcomed it, eyes bright and lips wide. Her head tilted back to let the rain fall on her face. She remained that way for several seconds before she smoothed her hair out of her face and walked to the doors of the veterinary clinic.

  Beau could stare at her all day. It was the same every time he saw her. He gave a rueful shake of his head and opened the truck door to step out into the rain. He shut the door and started to walk away when he glanced back at Davena. He paused when her gaze met his. Even from across the street, he knew the exact color of her eyes – spring green.

  They were as bright and enchanting as her laugh.

  Davena and her sister kept mostly to themselves, just as the Chiassons did, so Beau had yet to actually talk to her. Not that he would. Why bother getting to know her? The Chiasson name would be carried on through Vincent and Lincoln. That was enough for him and Christian. Especially Christian. If anyone was adverse to finding a woman to share life with, it was Christian.

  Beau nodded a greeting at Davena before he strode into the store. He tried to forget the way her shirt molded to her breasts, or how her hair looked like spun gold, even wet. He desperately tried to ignore how his body instantly came alive at seeing her.

  He grabbed a basket and pulled out his list of the items he needed for dinner. It didn’t take him long to get them and start toward the check out. He turned the corner and heard a soft intake of breath right before he collided with someone.

  There was a soft, feminine gasp. Immediately, Beau released the basket and grabbed a hold of the person. His hands wrapped around thin arms as he looked down into spring green eyes. He could only stare dumbfounded at Davena. The ends of her blonde hair dripped onto her soaked pink plaid shirt. It was the closest he had ever been to her, and he found it wasn’t nearly close enough.

  Beau felt a shiver run through her, and even though he knew he should release her, he couldn’t. He held her, marveling at her simple beauty.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her gaze skating away for a heartbeat. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s my fault. I had my head down.”

  Beau knew he should let go of her, but his fingers refused to loosen their hold. Her skin was warm beneath his palms, and a slight flush stained her cheeks. She was utterly charming without even meaning to be. Beau was thoroughly shocked to discover he wanted to know her, to hear her laugh, to walk with her down the street.

  Then he remembered who he was.

  He released her and took a step back, instantly missing the feel of her smooth skin. “My apologies.”

  Beau bent to pick up his basket. He straightened and threw a glance at her over his shoulder. Her guileless eyes watched him. He blew out a breath and started to walk away.

  Only to be halted when she said, “I’m Davena Arcineaux. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  Everything he had learned as a Chiasson, as a protector of the parish, told him to walk away and keep a professional distance. Yet, he found himself turning back to h
er.

  Her oval face with her soft, clear skin was sun-kissed, making her golden locks stand out even more. She tucked her hair behind her ear, giving him a glimpse of her long neck. How he wanted to slide his fingers along the column of her throat and then kiss his way down.

  His balls tightened just picturing it in his head. Beau mentally gave himself a shake. “I’m Beau. Beau Chiasson.”

  “I know,” she said with a faint smile.

  His gaze locked on her lips. Did she know how appealing she was? Did she have a clue how much he wanted to yank her against him and kiss those luscious lips?

  “Everyone knows the Chiassons.”

  Beau had to get away from her. She was trouble with a capital T. “Is that right?”

  “You know it is. I just haven’t figured out why everyone all but whispers the Chiasson name.”

  And there it was. The reason why Beau, like Christian, knew it was better to keep himself apart from any entanglements – no matter how attractive and tempting.

  That was the curse of a Chiasson. They kept the bayous safe from supernatural elements, but in turn, they were outcasts. If they dared to marry, it never ended well. Most of the time it was with death – like what happened to his mother.