Reynaud's Redemption Read online

  “I’m so sorry this happened,” Cameron said, averting his eyes.

  Reynaud turned Cameron’s chin so he could see his face. “I’m not. This confrontation was destiny. I am truly free now.”

  “You saved my life. How can I ever repay you?”

  Reynaud pulled Cameron into his embrace. “You don’t have to.”

  Cameron slipped his arms around Reynaud’s waist. Reynaud rested his head on top of Cameron’s silky blond strands, and Cameron sighed against his shoulder.

  “I love you, Reynaud.”

  He knew Cameron did indeed love him. Though he never said the words aloud, his behavior spoke them clearly. Hearing them, however, melted Reynaud’s heart. Suddenly Reynaud’s body grew warm as though he stood in the midday heat. A tingly sensation infused him from the inside out. His cock was suddenly hard, bobbing against Cameron’s body. The feeling soared through him, electrifying his senses, heightening his awareness, awakening his soul. He took in a breath then exhaled. Full restoration of his magic had occurred. Elation saturated his being. Reynaud smiled and held Cameron closer.

  “And I love you.”

  Chapter Five

  Reynaud reached inside the trunk of the SUV and gripped another box. He and Cameron had been unloading material for the last half hour. They had been crisscrossing each other, moving quickly and hardly speaking. He was glad they were almost done.

  “I can’t believe it’s been a year already,” he said with a chuckle.

  He carried the box into the restaurant. Cameron appeared beside him as he entered the kitchen.

  “Do you mean for us or the restaurant?”

  Reynaud thought he’d heard an uncharacteristic edge in Cameron’s voice. After stacking the carton on top of another near the dishwasher, he turned a raised brow to his partner. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Cameron lowered his own box to the nearby prep table behind them. “Nothing, really. I was just wondering how long we were going to pretend that nothing is bothering you.”

  “Baby, we’ve had this conversation. There’s nothing—”

  “Please don’t patronize me, Rey. I may be one hundred plus years younger than you, but I am not stupid.”

  Reynaud noticed the change in his lover’s voice when he’d cut him off. Cameron’s frustration was almost palpable.

  “It’s been about six months since you got your magic back and you’ve been…different ever since. Although you’re with me, it’s like you’re not.”

  Cameron’s words pierced his heart. The last thing Reynaud wanted to do was hurt him or push him away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell Cameron what bothered him. Just going over it in his mind made him anxious and frustrated because he really couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong.

  “That is not my intention, love. You know that.”

  “Okay, well then, just talk to me. I’m sure if we—”

  “Can we talk about it later? We’ve had a long day and there is still much to put away before we get to bed.”

  Cameron pressed his lips into a thin line. The muscles in his jaw twitched, as he seemed to struggle with whether or not to release a retort.

  “Fine,” he said through clenched teeth and walked away.

  Reynaud groaned. His little lover was not happy with him. The tight, one-word agreement was proof of that. Cameron continued to unload the vehicle with him, but he didn’t say another word or send a glance his way.

  Hours later, after food and a shower, Reynaud slipped into bed. He reached over to hug Cameron but the man rolled away, letting Reynaud’s hand slide off his body.

  “All right, Cam. Let’s talk.”

  Cameron looked over his shoulder. “I don’t have anything to say, Reynaud. There’s nothing bothering me,” he stated then rolled over again.

  Reynaud sighed. There’s that tone again.

  Fortunately, he had not caused too much friction in their relationship to merit the tone. On the rare occasions when it had come out, however, Reynaud knew that whatever the issue was that had created it needed to be resolved if there was to be peace between them again.

  “You’re right, Cam. It’s me, but… Well, I don’t know where to start.”

  Cameron shifted onto his back and folded his arms over his chest. “How about at the beginning?”

  Reynaud nodded. Sitting up, he propped his pillow behind him and raised his arm in invitation. Cameron hesitated only for a moment. With a surrendering sigh, Cameron scooted beside him and Reynaud held him close.

  “I don’t really know how to explain it, love. You’re right, though. Ever since my magic returned, something has been nagging at me. It almost feels like someone is calling out to me, but it is just outside my conscious reach.”

  Cameron looked up with a raised brow. “You think someone is looking for you? Wouldn’t all your people be dead after all this time?”

  “Not necessarily. Creolytes coexist with humans, but because we were born with magic, we live longer. Our powers make us stronger from the inside out. It enhances cellular regeneration, allowing us to age slower. Most Creolytes move from sect to sect so regular people don’t notice that they have not grown old after some time has passed.”

  “So it could be possible that someone is reaching out to you?”

  “Yes, very possible.”

  “Do you think it may be Angele?”

  Reynaud heard the apprehension in Cameron’s voice as he pushed the question out. He hugged him reassuringly then lifted his chin to place a soft kiss on his lips.

  “No, my love. Angele has been dead a very long time. Though our powers makes us more resilient, we share the same frailties as regular humans. We are very mortal, and can die in the same ways as people with no magic abilities. Baptiste killed Angele. He is dead.”

  Cameron let out a breath, seemingly relieved. “Then who?” he asked.

  Reynaud pondered. “I think it may be Madame Cousteau.”

  “The council leader? The one who was like a mother to you?”

  Reynaud nodded.

  “Could she still be alive after all this time too? I mean, she was old even then, wasn’t she?”

  Shrugging, Reynaud replied. “I don’t see why not. Barring any unforeseen disaster that may have ended her life prematurely, Madame Cousteau and the other leaders could be alive, albeit they’d be very elderly. Though she and the others were my seniors of at least fifty years at the time of my punishment, their magic was extremely strong. It would have preserved them.”

  Cameron gasped. Sadness filled Cam’s gaze when he looked up at Reynaud.

  “What is it?”

  “Reynaud, New Orleans did have a disaster. It happened about ten years ago. A storm came through and destroyed the levies. Water devastated everything. Some parts of the city are still recovering, even now.”

  As the ramifications of Cameron’s words sank in, horror swelled within him and unanswered questions became clear. Cameron had taken him to different parts of the city since his powers had returned to help re-familiarize himself with his surroundings as a man. It did not escape him that much had changed, but Reynaud hadn’t thought too much of it.

  More than one hundred years had gone by since his sentencing. He remembered the passage of time that had transpired while he was in his dog form and how he’d felt when people either liked or hated him, but noticing changes in the landscape were beyond his canine mind. Some of the anger and disappointment he felt toward his people still lingered after he’d been restored, but Cameron’s love had eased it away with time.

  Now that he had his man form, Reynaud expected his body to buzz as the magic inside him reacted to his surroundings, but that had not been the case. The territory was once abundant in the herbs needed to perform many enchantments, but he’d seen very few during his tour. The plants were one of the reasons why the first Creoles chose New Orleans to settle so long ago. They had not gone back to where he once lived yet because the café had become successful enough to o
ccupy all of his free time. Now a desperate need rose within him to verify its existence.

  “Cameron, you say there are places that have not yet recovered? Even after a decade has passed?”

  Cameron nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “I must see if my old home is one of those places. Will you take me there tomorrow?”

  “Of course.”

  Reynaud let out a breath and eased down the headboard onto his pillow, drawing Cameron with him. Fear of what he would find filled his thoughts. He made a conscious effort to quiet his mind, but he already knew the troubled feelings would prevent him from sleeping soundly.

  * * * *

  After the morning meeting with the restaurant crew, Cameron announced that he and Reynaud would be gone for the day. Reynaud followed him quietly to the car, apprehensive but determined. He looked out of the window, reminiscing and marveling at how things had indeed changed. A sense of melancholy settled upon him when Cameron turned down a familiar street and he saw its dilapidated form. Reynaud’s magic, recognizing the region, sparked within him a bit. Possibility raised its head, but it was quickly doused. A pit formed in Reynaud’s gut at the full sight of the area. The car pulled to a stop, and they got out. Devastation spread as far as the eye could see. Despair clutched his heart and tears stung his eyes.

  “What is this place called today?” he managed after a while.

  “The locals call it the Ninth Ward. It took the greatest hit when the flood came,” Cameron told him.

  Reynaud nodded as he looked out over the site of Lieu de Rencontre, where the Creolyte council hall once stood. He’d spent every day of his adult life there as a magical trainer. With so many users performing tasks of all kinds for countless years, the very walls of the dwelling hummed with enchantment.

  Their sect wasn’t as large as a few of the others in Louisiana. Many of their people were content to build their homes near the structure to remain near the energy that flowed from it. It allowed them to be a close-knit group.

  Reynaud strolled down the hill. Everything around him lay in ruin. The tiny twinges poking at his magic were miniscule compared to the full body throbbing the neighborhood’s former glory used to instill. Suddenly he snapped his head around to look over his shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?” Cameron asked, coming to his side.

  Reynaud hesitated, wondering himself. He walked along the overturned soil, stepping over tossed debris, not knowing exactly where he was going. Cameron followed in his footsteps, almost bumping into him when he stopped abruptly looking around again.

  “There’s something…familiar… Something”—he shook his head—“something pulls at me, Cameron. Its touch is very faint, like someone trying to tap me, but I’m just out of their reach. It tugs at the magic sitting in my soul.”

  “Maybe you should follow it.”

  Reynaud turned to him. “Follow it?”

  “Yes. Can’t you do that if you focus on it? It could be like a lighthouse is to ships at night. I don’t know how your magic stuff works, but…” he suggested with a shrug.

  Reynaud thought a moment. There were so many things he could not yet do. He had been doing small tasks to strengthen his long inactive earth magic since it had returned to him. In the beginning, concentrating on his power was exhausting each time. He practiced by healing trees and the grounds in the general area, multiplying the growth of healing herbs he found in the places Cameron had taken him and enhancing Cameron’s own vegetable gardens in their atrium. Those things were much easier for him than they were six months ago when he’d started.

  Although uneasy, Reynaud closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensation. Heat vibrated inside him, consuming his senses and intensifying as he focused. Something pulsed just outside his consciousness, just as Cameron had suggested. Fatigue brought him back. He wavered on his feet, but Cameron remained at his side.

  “Rey, are you all right?”

  He leaned forward, supporting most of his weight on his knees to catch his breath. “Yes, I’m fine. And yes, I can follow it,” he added with a grin.

  Chapter Six

  Baptiste St John sat at his desk, glowering at the man before him. He tapped the pencil in his hand on the cherry wood desktop in a slow, methodical rhythm. As he stared at the man, Baptiste played with the idea of striking him, but he knew he couldn’t until he had all the information he needed. When he leaned the chair forward to speak, his visitor jumped.

  “Are you telling me that you caused me to miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Andrew?”

  Distain filled his deep baritone voice. Andrew’s Adam’s apple bobbed over his shirt and tie. As he nodded, he fidgeted in his chair under Baptiste’s glare.

  “Y–y–yes, I guess I am, Mr St John,” Andrew stammered. “But it wasn’t our fault,” he added quickly. “How were we to know—?”

  Baptiste held a hand up, and Andrew’s words stopped instantly.

  “I do not want your excuses. I want you to tell me, once again, what happened. This time go slowly. The punishment you receive depends upon my full understanding.”

  Although Baptiste’s tone was calm with a soft octave, Andrew widened his eyes at their obvious warning. He nodded vigorously, shifting in his chair again.

  “Yes, sir. Well, we were all there—the same four that took Tomas to the house back in 2010. We did just like you said, made him comfortable and watched his status, keeping you abreast of how he was doing.”

  Baptiste rolled his eyes then slammed the desk with an open palm. Andrew’s bottom left the chair and he gasped at the sound.

  “My patience is wearing thin with you, Andrew. I suggest you fast forward to yesterday.”

  “Oh. Yes, sir. Well, we took turns keeping watch over him, you see. I guess when Louis left the room to get one of us, he must’ve missed it. When I walked in to take his place, I saw Tomas glowing like a light bulb, just like you said he would. It was amazing. I ran for the boys. We were all kind of frozen, just staring at him, you know. None of us had ever seen an elder die.”

  Baptiste pressed his lips into a thin line and pushed against the back of his chair. He heaved a breath and clenched his hand into a fist.

  “The magic seemed to just burst from his body, shooting toward the ceiling—into the very atmosphere was more like it—just as he died,” Andrew continued excitedly, gesturing to the ceiling. “You couldn’t really see it but you could sure feel it. It was like standing near a reverse waterfall or something. The whole room was filled with heat, then this wall of pressure pushed against us with a big whoosh, you know?” He flapped his arms back.

  Baptiste narrowed his eyes as Andrew moved his hands around in an animated fashion.

  “The sensation was so strong it made us stumble backward—then it was over,” Andrew concluded. “We pulled Louis from the floor, and Laurent went to check to see if Tomas was really dead.”

  Baptiste stopped rocking the chair and regarded Andrew with a raised brow. “Louis fell?”

  “Well, yeah. Louis only weighs about one hundred pounds soaking wet. Just about anything can knock him over.”

  Baptiste narrowed his eyes again.

  Andrew cowered under the look. “But it could have been the force coming off Tomas that did it,” he added in haste.

  “Are you saying you experienced some kind of power exchange when the magic escaped Tomas’ body? That’s what pushed you backward?”

  “I don’t know what it was, but we felt something for sure. My body was all warm and tingly afterward. Like an electric charge had gone through me.”

  “I see. And what of François? Is his health fading as fast as Tomas’ did?”

  “I believe so, sir. I sent Laurent, Moreau and Martin to watch him before I came over here.”

  “And what of Louis? Where is he now?”

  “Louis is in the waiting room, sir. He came with me. He wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Baptiste was silent for long moments. He rocked ba
ck in his seat, nodding. Then he snapped the chair upright and smiled.

  “Excellent. So, to be clear, only you, Moreau, Laurent, Louis and Martin were in the room and you all were pushed back? Yes?”

  Andrew thought for a minute then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well, then. That’s all I needed, Andrew. You are dismissed.”

  Andrew’s eyes grew with surprise. He gripped the arms of the chair and leaned forward but hesitated before standing. “Are you sure that’s all, sir?” he questioned.

  “Yes, you may go,” Baptiste said with a dismissive wave.

  Andrew wavered for a moment longer then left his seat.

  “Oh, wait,” Baptiste called out with his finger up, as though he’d just remembered something. “There is just one more thing, Andrew.”

  Andrew released the knob and turned around. “Yes, sir?”

  Baptiste’s stride was steady as he closed the distance between them. Without hesitation, he walked directly to his subordinate and gripped Andrew’s neck. Andrew’s gasp stuck in his throat as his back hit the door. His stunned expression locked onto Baptiste’s face as he muttered incoherently in protest. Baptiste kept his arm erect as he lifted the shorter man to his line of sight, tightening his grasp. Andrew’s feet dangled as he beat Baptiste’s muscled forearm in an effort to relieve the pressure—but to no avail. Baptiste’s strength was superior. Andrew’s eyes began bulging and his resistance waned as his windpipe collapsed.

  Bending his elbow—and careful not to loosen his hold—Baptiste stepped closer to Andrew’s face. “I’ve been waiting a long time for these elders to die off. No matter how insignificant you think that power you share with the others is, it belongs to me,” Baptiste told him through gritted teeth.

  Baptiste clenched his fingers, cutting off Andrew’s air supply completely. His gaze locked onto the protruding blue orbs before him. The transfer of magic was swift. Baptiste welcomed the sensation reminiscent of hot wax touching the skin then quickly cooling, but the electric current that raced through his body was unexpected. It raced along his nerve endings, hardening his cock, making his nipples erect. A shiver ran up his spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Baptiste couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped his mouth as a result. He gasped and dropped Andrew’s lifeless body to the floor, as the abrupt feeling jerked his body backward.