The blood seemed to fizz in Jean-Luc’s veins and his whole body was a mass of restless energy. He didn’t try to shake off the desire to shift. When the moon was at the height of her powers, he could not resist. She pulled him to her, just as she pulled the oceans and caused waves to beat against the shore.
“Are you just going to lie there all night?” Jean-Luc strode over to the bed to pluck the book from Benoît’s hands.
“Hey, I was reading that!” Benoît protested.
He glanced briefly at the cover with its illustration of a country manor house shrouded in mist. “Don’t you already know how this one ends? As always, the wrongdoer will be the very last person you’d suspect.” Giving the bed an impatient pat, he snapped, “Come on, Benoît. I need to run. I’ve been tied up dealing with suppliers all day, and all I could think about was the moment when you and I would finally be able to give our desires free rein.”
“You should let Marcus deal with that,” Benoît retorted. But he’d risen to a kneeling position and was taking his T-shirt off, giving Jean-Luc a mouthwatering view of his taut, toned belly.
“Marcus left for England this morning. He’s combining a delivery run with a visit to his family. But you’d know that if you paid any attention at all, instead of constantly having your nose stuck in a book.”
“I need to relax, Jean-Luc.”
“You never do seem to do anything but…” Jean-Luc growled affectionately. He eased down his sweatpants, the only garment he had on. Like all shifters, he found clothing constricting and would have been happier walking around naked. But in a big house where he might bump into some member of staff in the corridors, it was safer to maintain some level of decorum. No one he employed had any clue as to his true nature and he didn’t want to give them the impression he was some kind of freak who liked to walk around with his dick hanging out.
At this time of night, however, there was no danger of being seen. The people who worked in the vineyard had long since gone home and the live-in staff would all be tucked up in bed. Still, he was careful to creep down the stairs as quietly as he could. Benoît followed behind, the thrill of what they were about to do causing his eyes to shine.
They let themselves out of the back entrance, making their way through the rows of vines and out into the quiet countryside beyond the estate. Jean-Luc sniffed the air, catching the musty scent of a fox that had recently passed this way. His keen hearing picked up the monotonous chirping of crickets and the sound of vehicle engines on the road that led to Épernay. Ahead of him, Benoît had broken into a jog, his bare, nut-brown arse cheeks flexing enticingly.
While Jean-Luc ambled behind, Benoît dropped onto all fours and began the swift transformation from man to beast. His slender limbs became sturdy paws, his face reassembled itself into that of a lion, complete with whiskers and fangs, and his body acquired a shaggy, sandy-colored pelt. He looked quite magnificent as he shook out his mane.
Jean-Luc closed his eyes and surrendered to the same process. He let the animal part of him take control, all but forgetting about his human needs and emotions. The petty irritations of his daily life no longer mattered. He was free to run.
Benoît had already streaked away into the trees. Jean-Luc scampered after him, his paws making no sound where they landed on the sun-baked earth. The scents of small animals assailed his nostrils but he ignored them. The only spoor to lure him was that belonging to his mate, and he was compelled to follow it wherever it led.
They traveled for miles, tracking a circuit that ran parallel to the main road but never came too close. Here, the farmhouses were few and far apart, open fields stretching out to the horizon. Back in the direction they’d come, the land was hilly. Perfect for growing grapes but not so good if all they wanted to do was simply run.
When they reached a lightning-blasted tree they used as a distance marker, they doubled back on themselves. By the time they were within a mile or so of the château, its turreted roof just visible against the skyline, Jean-Luc had satisfied one of his urges but not the other. He still needed to be buried deep inside Benoît’s glorious arse.
He came to a halt, rolling on his back in the long grass. Taking a couple of deep, steady breaths, letting his heartbeat slow, he shifted back to human form. Benoît lay down beside him. Jean-Luc rested his head against Benoît’s flank. For a moment, soft fur tickled his cheek. Smooth, hairless skin took its place and he knew Benoît had completed his own change.
“Have you ever noticed how the stars seem so much brighter after you’ve been running?” Benoît mused, staring up at the clear night sky.
“Are you just going to lie there and spout philosophy or are you going to let me fuck you?” Jean-Luc leaned up to purr the last two words into Benoît’s ear.
In response, Benoît reached to put his hand around Jean-Luc’s neck. He pulled Jean-Luc’s face to his and kissed him hard. Their tongues twined, Jean-Luc relishing the soft warmth of his lover’s mouth. He maneuvered so he was on top of Benoît, staring into the depths of his honey-gold eyes. The devotion he had for Benoît seemed so clearly mirrored in his mate’s gaze. Nothing could be as perfect as this moment. The warmth of the summer night. The hard, muscled length of Benoît’s body beneath his own. The strength of the love between them, impossible to deny. He prayed it would never end.
Benoît kissed Jean-Luc’s cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. He stroked long tendrils of Jean-Luc’s hair away from his face. “Fuck me,” he murmured.
It was all the invitation he needed. The pressure in his groin had been building steadily since he and Benoît had shifted back and now his cock was fully hard. When he snaked a hand between their two bodies, he found the thick length of Benoît’s erection and gave it a teasing squeeze.
Benoît groaned and humped his hips against Jean-Luc. “I’m so hot for you.”
Jean-Luc gave a satisfied chuckle. “And that’s just the way I like it.” He encouraged Benoît to roll over and present his rump. “But I need to make sure you’re ready to take all of me.”
It wasn’t an idle comment. His cock was thick, and longer than his palm’s span. He’d had lovers in the past who’d struggled with his dimensions. With Benoît it had never been an issue. The fact he fit so perfectly in his mate’s rear hole was further proof to Jean-Luc that they were meant to be together. Still, he needed to get that passage nice and slick so he could slide into it with ease.
He slithered down until his mouth was on a level with Benoît’s arse. Blades of grass prickled deliciously at his belly and shaft, like a thousand tiny fingers stroking him. The sensation didn’t distract him from his task. Jean-Luc urged Benoît to spread his thighs wider, giving him room to work. At first, he simply ran a saliva-slick finger over his lover’s anus, causing Benoît to squirm on the ground. Then he stuck out his tongue and lapped at the puckered skin there, tasting the ripe earthiness that was unique to his mate.
“
Merde alors
, that’s so rude but so good,” Benoît groaned. “I love the way you lick me, Jean-Luc.”
Encouraged by his mate’s enthusiastic response, Jean-Luc ran his tongue tip a little faster over Benoît’s arsehole, getting it nicely wet. Once he was satisfied with his efforts, he sat up, eliciting a whimper of disappointment from Benoît.
“You were enjoying that entirely too much,” he chided. “But if you thought that was good, what comes next will be better…”
He spat into his own palm and used his saliva to lube himself up. Then he climbed on top of Benoît, putting the head of his cock to his mate’s entrance. With one push he was inside, enveloped in delicious, clutching heat. Benoît’s arse seemed to welcome him and he sawed gently back and forth, gradually burying more of himself in his lover.
“Do it hard,” Benoît urged. “I really want to feel you fucking me.”
Spurred on by the urgent demand, Jean-Luc obliged, thrusting with smooth, piston-like motions. He licked and nipped at the nape of Benoît’s neck, lost in the taste and scent of his lover’s skin. The irresistible need to come built in his groin. His balls tightened and knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back.
“Benoît,
je t’aime
.”
I love you
. The words he always spoke in the seconds before orgasm overtook him. He clung tight to his mate, giving one final jerk of his hips as he came.
Beneath him, Benoît groaned, and Jean-Luc realized he was reaching his own climax.
“Stay with me forever,” Jean-Luc murmured in Benoît’s ear. “Never leave me.”
The image faded to nothing. Jean-Luc, still holding his cock in his fist, had reached orgasm at the same moment as he’d come in his memory.
Stay with me forever. Never leave me.
Had he really spoken those words to Benoît or was his mind sending a message he knew his mate would never be able to answer?
He went into the bathroom to clean himself off then returned to the room that doubled as his bedchamber and study. The armoire where he kept his clothes was an antique that had been in his family’s possession for over three hundred years, but Jean-Luc didn’t care about its provenance. All that mattered was it held one of the few remaining tangible links to Benoît.
The blue chambray work shirt hung at the far end of the rail, covered in protective plastic. He removed it carefully and ran trembling fingers over the soft fabric. Benoît had changed out of it before going for dinner with his parents on the last night of his life and had left it crumpled on the bedroom floor. His untidiness had been one of his most aggravating characteristics but at this moment Jean-Luc would have given anything to be able to lecture Benoît about putting his dirty clothes in the laundry hamper.
He pressed the shirt to his nose and breathed in. Traces of Benoît’s scent still clung to it but so faint now that he struggled to draw it into his nostrils. Soon it would be gone entirely, despite his best efforts to preserve it.
“Benoît, I lost you once and now it feels like I’m losing you all over again. Don’t go…”
Jean-Luc hadn’t realized he was crying until he noticed the damp spot on the collar of Benoît’s shirt. He managed to hold back the full flood of tears till he’d once again stowed the garment in its plastic shroud. Then he threw himself on the bed and howled for his dead mate.
Chapter Four
“Okay, so the car rental stand should be somewhere round here…”
Ethan glanced up at the signs, trying to get his bearings in the vast, crowded airport terminal. It seemed like forever since they’d boarded the plane at LAX. They’d left at nine a.m. yesterday. With a change of flights in New York that they’d only made by the skin of their teeth thanks to a late departure slot, their total travel time had been a little under fourteen hours. That would have been arduous enough without the fact Paris was nine hours ahead of California, which meant it was now eight in the morning local time. He’d been able to sleep for a good part of the flight—one of the perks of working for the hottest ghost-hunting show on TV being he got to travel business class, with seats that reclined till they were flat—but still his eyes were hot and scratchy. He felt like he wore contact lenses made from sandpaper. At least he wouldn’t have to drive their rented van from here to the château. Dex had drawn that particular short straw.
He consulted the instructions and map he’d printed off, along with his receipt for the rental. “According to this, it’s just by gate twenty-six.”
Kim looked round. “There.” She pointed to the stand.
Ethan wandered over and addressed the dark-haired woman in a stylish green uniform who sat behind the desk. “
Bonjour. Parlez-vous Anglais
?”
“Of course,
Monsieur
,” she replied in impeccable English. “How can I help you?”
“We have a van and a car reserved in the name of Archer Film and Television.”
She typed something on her computer keyboard. “Ah,
oui
.
Monsieur
Wayne, isn’t it? Let me just find the keys for you…”
A couple of moments later he’d signed the necessary paperwork and they were on their way outside to pick up their vehicles. They’d reserved a minivan in which Ethan and Kim would travel, along with the third member of the on-screen team, Jerome Dexter, universally known as Dex. Before he’d entered the world of paranormal research, the solidly built black man had been a quarterback in the NFL, playing for the Oakland Raiders and the San Francisco 49ers. When injury had cut Dex’s football career short at the age of thirty-one, he’d discovered an aptitude for working with electronic equipment. Now he was responsible for setting up the monitors and other pieces of technical wizardry designed to pick up any evidence of ghostly activity during their investigations.
The second, smaller vehicle—a black saloon car—would be occupied by Pete Hills, the show’s regular cameraman, and Leon Rice, the sound engineer. Pete had been working on
Spirit Seekers
since its pilot episode while Leon had joined halfway through the second season. Today, the two would be driving ahead of the van to get shots of its progress through the French countryside, which would later be edited into the finished program.
“Okay, let’s make this baby look beautiful…” Pete said. He’d brought with him magnetic cards bearing the
Spirit Seekers
logo that he stuck to the van’s rear doors and engine bonnet. Ethan had complained that branding the vehicles they rented in this way made them seem like they were riding around in the Mystery Machine from
Scooby Doo
, but Kim thought it reinforced the idea they were a team. “Whatever happens, whatever we see, we’re all part of it,” she’d said on more than one occasion.
In the meantime, Dex and Leon set up a small digital camera on the van’s dashboard. This would capture the conversation between Kim, Ethan and Dex as they talked about the reason for the investigation and what they hoped to see when they arrived. Though the show used a brief introductory voiceover to let viewers know where that particular episode was located, the team had to fill in all the remaining blanks. At first, Ethan had worried these conversations would sound stilted and unnatural but the three had quickly developed an easy, bantering relationship. They genuinely enjoyed being in each other’s company and it couldn’t fail to show on camera.