Bayou Bishops Box Set: Books 1-12

CHAPTER 5

Gracie decided to keep a lid on all the Ruckus details when Maggie inquired. The light slowly dimmed in the girl’s eyes as Gracie assured there was nothing worth reporting. How funny and sweet she was. Wanting her aunt to find love like she did. And Beth.

Gracie was a lot of things, but a beggar was not one. No matter how much she might drool over Ruckus, she’d never disrespect his boundary or her own self-esteem. She admired his convictions, actually. She still wasn’t sure about a lot of things and intended to ask him.

She remembered the tit-for tat bit. She owed him a big tit. Since he’d perfectly seen the shape of her boobs—God help her—he should know there wasn’t anything big going on there outside of bra stuffing. Which when brought to her attention was false advertisement, she’d stopped.

After going through her small wardrobe, alarm filled her. Every outfit carried those signals and Ruckus would surely give his noble, unsolicited advice on the matter. Geeze he was feeling more like a smothering brother than ever. Not that she minded him smothering her in that way but talk about bad timing.

She’d let him know the situation is all. She had three of those damn practical see through outfits. Bargain disaster. She had two other options. Jeans and a pink blouse with her cowboy boots and jeans with a t-shirt and sandals or tennis shoes. And mercy, the jeans were anything but modest. Her butt was her body-bitch and like her hair, she showed it off proudly. She’d always told herself it was for her own appreciation and nobody else. She got looks, but she learned to ignore them. Her body was her own damn personal property. People drove around in fancy cars and lived in fancy houses, and she never expected them to hide it so she didn’t drool over it. They had something nice, fine, show it off. And now she had Ruckus and his sex signal training. Well, just because she showed what she had didn’t mean it was available to buy. Why did everybody have to assume nice things were automatically available to be had or bought? Can’t a fine ass walk down the street without being a for sale item? Can’t it just walk down a street? Damnhumans.

Gracie settled on the jeans and pink blouse with boots. Mostly because they were in a swamp for crying out loud. Wasn’t her fault the boots made everything else look good. They were boots Christ almighty!

She did manage to turn one of her gauzy tops from her slut-signal ensemble into a butt covering. It was the best she could do. And he’d have to damn well appreciate it since she was clearly foregoing fashion to send the right signals to all the dumb male eyeballs. She made a silent bet with herself. The butt covering wouldn’t matter one damn bit.

On their way to the boat, Ruckus and Gracie let the love birds get ahead of them. “You ready for this?” she asked, wanting him to know she remembered her role.

He answered with, “What are you wearing?”

She glanced up at him as they walked, then at his clothing choice. “What are you wearing?”

“What I have.”

“Same here. I had to choose between see through slut material and blue jeans. I did manage to cover my ass if you hadn’t noticed.”

“And the boots?”

“What about the boots?” she barely cried. “They’re boots for crying out loud? You say it like they got fuck me written all over them.”

“They do.”

His matter-of-fact tone was a little edgy which excited and annoyed her. “Says who?”

“Says somebody who knows.”

“Says the man who trained himself not to need or want sex? Per chance you may be off the mark on that Mr. Marry Me Not?”

“Per chance not,” he assured with a chuckle.

“Sounds like a male problem. I can’t help if they see sex in everything they look at. That’s their choice just like it’s yours. Do you see fuck me on these boots?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you need to educate the male species how to see. I swear I’m fed up. They see sex in everything. Think about a toilet. Who do you think named the parts, a man or a woman? You got ball cocks and blow bags. Lube and O rings! Male ends and female ends and nipples galore. Reamers and tailpipes and sweating pieces. I dated a plumber,” she hissed at his raised perturbed browse. “To answer my own question, a man named the parts. Because all they think about is sex and therefore all things become sexual. Just like we are what we eat, well, what we think can become what we see. I see boots on feet, you see boots on feet. They see what? A woman bent over something and asking for it in the ass.”

He suddenly stepped in front of her, and she ran right into him. He took hold of her shoulders and pushed her off, looking down at her. But the way his large hands held her, the feel of his huge fingers, hot and pressing had her in dirty minded plumber land, turning her shoulders into nipples and his hands into sweating pieces.

His mouth went hard, and he released her with a little shove that would’ve normally caused her to have a fury flip. “What?” she demanded, at least wanting an explanation.

“Your life is not my business. How you dress is not my business. How you think is not my business. I don’t care about any of it outside of me helping you be aware of something. You don’t agree with me, that’s fine. I’m not asking you to or wanting you to. I’m here to give you pointers, you’re here to give me pointers.”

She drew back a little. “Ah yes. Tit for tat. I remember. Then let’s close this entire fashion classroom up. You don’t advise me about sexual fashion flares, and I won’t advise you on yours.” She made sure to eye his outrageously sexy outfit before heading down the pier.

He caught up to her in two seconds without trying. “If you need to advise me on my clothes. Go right ahead.”

“As if I’d advise a man who lives in isolation on his wardrobe. But if you had the ability to choose, I would surely choose wearing more. Newsflash,” she decided to straight up tell him. “You likely aren’t aware that you look like somebody that should only exist in fiction and I don’t mean the kid kind, I mean the adult kind, the kind women love reading to be more exact. Being impossibly gorgeous isn’t even a thing and yet there you are, being exactly that. Like the son of Zeus which I think is very ridiculous!”

It was the first time she’d heard him laugh, and the sound made her quake inside. She pointed at him. “Even your laugh is cruelly sexy,” she hissed, not wanting to be heard. “Everything about you screams take me home and force me to be your sex slave.”

She stormed off again, not sure what she was so damn flustered about now. Again, he caught up to her without effort in his casual long-legged stroll. “Thank you,” he muttered, bringing her to a sudden halt. She watched his back then he finally stopped and turned.

She raised her brows as high as they could go. “For what?”

“The compliment?”

She stood there with her mouth open, shaking her head. “You would take that as a compliment,” she said, flying past him.

“It wasn’t?” he wondered, catching up again, humor in his voice.

“No, it wasn’t!”

“You were insulting me?” he asked, sounding maybe excited about that while confused.

“Mr. Genuinely Clueless, here. You better stay close by, or you may find yourself abducted by a gaggle of swamp sluts.”

“I’m disappointed that I’m already at sorry with you.”

They were nearing the boat landing and a ping of guilt hit her at remembering his inadequacies. She gave a sigh. “No, I’m the sorry one. I forget about your shortcomings in these matters,” she barely muttered. “Maybe stop being so damn confident. No, don’t stop that,” she hurried, realizing that was bad advice. “I’ll just keep my mouth shut and my opinions to myself.”

“Unless you think I need pointers,” he reminded.

“Don’t worry, I’m not abandoning you.”

“Thank you.”

****

At the boat, Gracie was required to sit right in front of Ruckus, facing him. He could see she was extremely uncomfortable but wasn’t sure why. He could turn and put his back to her but something about that seemed wrong. Plus, he liked looking at her. But after hearing what she thought of his looks, and being mostly uninterested in those things, he’d missed that her signals were aimed at him. He’d grabbed her shoulders and saw it immediately. He wasn’t sure how to feel about her dramatic opinions of his appearance, but he did like her as a learning companion.

He had a hunch she was perfectly accurate about her being different. He’d find out the more he socialized. The term rolled through his head like a bad omen. A doorway to trouble. He needed to find a way not to touch people. But that might not even matter with the rolling of their Fate Dice. Ideas like putting an entire swamp in the hands of dice was why the insanity term was invented. If it was decided he join his powers to theirs, then he’d do it with all his might. The fact that his son wanted that helped ease the tension building in his body. Hopefully his son’s powers were stronger than his because once his were out, he couldn’t guarantee what would happen.

After arriving at the main house, it became clear there was some kind of event happening. Gracie assured Maggie she’d keep an eye on Ruckus then turned to him with an “Oh my. Can we say social event from hell?”

“Yes we can,” he agreed whole heartedly.

“Just follow my lead. Stay close. I’ll guide the conversations and make it easy for you.”

Halfway up the hill, Bishop and Samuel approached. “Sorry about the unannounced party,” Bishop said. “Ma-Ma is a party-holic. I think it’s her coping mechanism. When the going gets tough, time to throw a party.”

It was relief enough to see the Bishop didn’t hold to that theory. Ruckus eyed his son, who gave him a nod and a muttered, “Pier.”

Pier. He’d called him that a few times. Ruckus nodded back, resisting the urge to ask what that meant.

“Don’t worry, I’m babysitting Ruckus and Ruckus is babysitting me,” Gracie announced to Bishop who eyed him.

“Keep her close?”

“I intend to,” Ruckus said, having no problem with that.

“Enjoy the festivities. We’ll see you in the Basilique in two hours.”

Nods were exchanged and they headed back to the main house, leaving them standing there on the outskirts of misery. “Basilique,” she muttered. “What is that?”

“It’s where they hold meetings.” Ruckus eyed the place, realizing how huge it was. “What is Pier? My son keeps using that word with me.”

“Huh,” she muttered, brows drawn. “No clue. We need to start a list, I’m as lost as you on that.”

The odd connection that existed between them tightened more with that one.

“Maybe we can sneak around the fringe of this place and see what we can see without being seen.”

Ruckus nodded. “I like that idea.”

“I need to avoid my nieces. They’ll want to drag me around and introduce me to people. I love people and all but I’m not really ready for that tonight. I can’t believe I just lied.”

“How?”

“I don’t love people, they’re damn annoying mostly.”

He had to laugh at her honesty. “I share this notion.”

“I bet you do. We’re on the same team then,” she said, falling into him as they headed to the right of the clearing. “Lord, these boots have zero grip,” she muttered as he put his forearm out for her. Just so he wasn’t doing the touching. The sound of music filled the not-so-distant air as his brain hyper-focused on her fingers. Size and feel and temperature. Her touch was nearly hot and he found an odd comfort in it.

“I’m trying really hard not to feel you,” she whispered as they walked.

He sure couldn’t tell. They found a gravel path on the outskirts of the yard that seemed to take them along a row of buildings or houses. How many people lived there? Was it like a compound?

“Well, who do we have here?” a woman’s voice called from the porch on their right. Even in the thickening dusk Ruckus saw it was a beautiful brunette leaning her forearms on the porch rail. But her eyes were focused on him.

“I’m Gracie, Maggie and Beth’s Aunt, and this is Ruckus.”

He glanced at Gracie wondering why she didn’t give who he was related to while also wondering what to say. “Hello,” he said, feeling like that was normal enough.

“And who is Ruckus in these parts?” the woman asked.

“I’m Samuel’s father,” he answered before Gracie could.

The woman drew in a breath, her mouth forming a perfect oval. Ruckus had never met a woman who gave off so many sexual signals as she was. And unlike Gracie, she did it openly. Wanting him to know. He regarded Gracie to see if she saw them.

“I didn’t even know he had a father,” the woman said, walking along the porch and making her way down the steps in shorts that reached the very edge of her ass. The woman ignored Gracie, stopping right before Ruckus and dragging her finger over his exposed chest between his leather vest. “There is no way you’re old enough to be his father. I surely see where he gets his good looks.”

Ruckus wasn’t sure how to escape the situation. At finding great expectancy in Gracie’s cool gaze on him, she was leaving it to him to figure that out and quick. Ruckus moved the woman’s hand off him using his arm and the smile she gave when he did said this was a game she often played. He sure hoped all the women weren’t like this.

“I’m Katrina,” she said, holding her hand toward him.

Ruckus caught Gracie’s eye roll and lowered his head with a chuckle when she snuck two fingers behind the girls head and held them there like little horns. The girl suddenly turned as if sensing it and Gracie pet her hair. “Beautiful hair you have. What kind of shampoo do you use?”

“Passion fruit,” she said, back to eyeing Ruckus.

“Ohhhh, do you harvest it yourself.”

The woman pushed Gracie’s petting hand off her “I’m The Bishops ex-wife. His first love,” she said to Gracie, smiling. “We have a daughter together.”

“Oh, really,” Gracie gasped, regarding Ruckus with wide eyes then the woman again. “And you live here?”

“I do. He wants me here.”

The darkness in Ruckus stirred as her lies piled up. He was suddenly inches from her, looking down in her surprised face. “Keep your darkness away from the light,” he ordered quietly. “Or I will crush it. Spawn.”

She stared at him, and he pushed his power far enough out to let her feel what he meant. “Get the hell away from me,” she muttered, moving in reverse before nearly stumbling up the steps.

“My pleasure,” he said, putting his arm out for Gracie. She placed her hand on him again and they moved along.

“What the hell was that?” she hissed at him.

“Just dealing with ex-family members.”

“You know her?” she wondered, glancing behind them.

“I know her lying kind.”

“That was the greatest rejection on the planet.” She shoved her finger in his face. “Get back you dirty ugly bitch or I’ll beat your ass down!”

It would be the second time Ruckus discovered he was capable of laughter.

“Shhhh, you’ll attract more whores!”

He laughed louder at that as they came to another building. She jerked to a stop. “Another house,” she whispered as they inspected for lurking shadows.

“Looks safe,” he said.

As they passed it, she paused again. “There’s a swing on the porch. Let’s take a break.”

He found that funny seeing as they barely walked. “Anything to delay the inevitable.”

“I soagree,” she said, sitting at the far edge.

He took the opposite end remembering not to give her the wrong signals even while being near her gave him a peace he only found with his induced trances.

She lifted up her arm, peering at the watch on her wrist. “We have…one hour and thirty minutes before your meeting. And what is that about anyway? Are you allowed to say?”

He thought about it. “Not really sure if I am. They’re rolling the Fate Dice.”

“I heard him say that. What in the world does that mean? Is it a metaphor?”

“I think it’s literal dice they roll.”

“Wow,” she said, astonished. “Talk about ballsy.”

He grinned, deciding he liked her way of speaking. It was direct as it was funny. “I agree.”

“Wonder what they’re rolling about. Don’t tell me, I’m just wondering out loud to myself. I talk a lot to myself, it’s one of the symptoms that get me the crazy card. I don’t know what’s so bad about talking to yourself thought. Honestly, I think everybody does it, I just happen to be very talkative so the conversations can carry on and on.”

He chuckled. “Did this shut you up?”

“Does it look like it?”

“Not at all.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

He glanced at her. “About what?”

“Me talking so much?”

He shrugged. “So far I don’t hate it.”

“I best tread carefully. And how do you feel about indiscernible mumblings?”

“I’d rather words I can understand,” he said, entertained as usual with her.

“I still can’t believe my niece talked these swamp thugs into marriage.”

He wasn’t sure what to think of that either.

“You never did tell me why you’ve decided not to marry. You mentioned because of who you are, but I never did get around to how that prevents you from marriage.” She threw up both hands. “Don’t tell me if you don’t want to,” she hurried. “I’m just curious.”

“Because when I touch people, the things in me attach to them. Like a black plague.”

“Black plague?” she whispered. “Is that a metaphor?”

“Yes and no. It’s something that happens in a person’s mind. An evil imprint or stain that gradually and steadily leads them to hell.”

“Wow,” she muttered. “Like a…demon contagion?”

“Something like that.”

“You touched me on the pier,” she reminded, angling a look at him.

“I did.”

“I don’t feel any different.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“Ah. It’s slow?”

“It’s whatever it needs to be. Every person is different.”

“It works on everybody? Because honestly, I feel no difference at all. Not that I want you to touch me.”

“You do,” he decided to say.

She went quiet. “Fine, I do. Like you said there’s nothing wrong with it.”

He took in a slow breath and released it. “That’s right.”

“So, what if there was a way to have somebody and not give them the devil’s germs?”

“There’s not.”

“How do you know? Do you keep a tab on everybody you touch?”

“Yes, I do. Did,” he corrected. “Even if there was a chance do you think I’d risk it? I wouldn’t.”

“Okay,” she said in light defense. “Just seeing what your life has in store for you is all.”

“The usual.”

“Unmitigated misery?” she asked.

He regarded her brown gaze, able to see the softness even in the darkness. “You get used to it.”

She tore her eyes from his, shaking her head. “That is…such a waste.”

“How?”

“Well, here you have this…top fictional quality of a man just going to ruin!”

“Here it is,” he chuckled.

“It’s true! You are denying the world human thoroughbreds, Ruckus.”

He let his laugh out at that. “Human thoroughbreds. You are comedic.”

She giggled. “I am,” she admitted, sounding proud. “It gets me through.”

“Through what?”

“Oh…you know. Stuff.”

He watched her brush off invisible things from her jeans. “Why don’t you find a mate?” he asked.

Her exaggerated snort was already telling. “Never found a male worthy.”

He could imagine. “That I can surely get behind.”

“Because you know the condition of the male species?”

“I do.”

“But clearly there’s some good ones, look at Spook and Bishop.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

He kicked his leg out. “Just agreeing with the anomaly.”

“I wonder if the other twelve that are marrying are good like that?”

“You could find out.”

She was eyeing him, and he decided not to look at her. “I could,” she said or tested. “Seeing as your unavailable.”

“If you want to mate, then you should.”

“You think mating and marriage is a singular thing too? Maggie said that’s their code. You mate with a woman only if you intend to marry her.”

“Patriarchal.”

“You think that’s bad?”

He shook his head. “Not if they’re sincere.”

“How do you feel about just mating and no marriage?”

“It was once the only life I knew. Didn’t hate it or like it. I was groomed to be detached about such things.”

He waited for her to voice what weighed in the silence. “You still…detached about it?”

“What are you asking me, Gracie?” He looked at her. “You want to mate with me without attachments?”

He wanted to be offended but the look on her face stopped him. “You’re right, that’s a bad idea. I don’t think I could manage it, anyway.”

“Manage what?” he asked, holding back the aggression building in his muscles.

She regarded him with raised browse. “Well surely not the mating part, dummy. The attachment part.”

This woman. “Why are you even discussing this with me?”

“I’m just talking,” she cried in defense. “Is it just no pain no gain in your world? Does pleasure have any use whatsoever?”

“Pleasure,” he scoffed. “That word doesn’t exist in my world.”

She sucked in a breath. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

She turned in the swing facing him. “You’ve never had…sexual pleasure? Didn’t’ you have a child?”

“There wasn’t anything pleasurable about that.”

She shot up her hand, facing forward again. “I don’t want to know.”

“You don’t,” he assured.

She turned again to him. “I’m just going to come out and ask this. Can I?”

He sucked in a huge breath and shook his head. “Fire away, Gracie.”

She turned forward again. “No, I can’t. I won’t.”

“Then don’t.”

“Have you ever had an orgasm?”

He shot out a laugh. “How else would I have a kid?”

She punched him. “I don’t know, they have their crazy ways.”

“They surely do but not with that one.”

“Well…did you ever have an orgasm just for the pleasure of having one?”

“Did I not just answer that?”

“You’re mad at me,” she muttered.

“I’m wondering still why you’re asking this.”

“I told you I’m nosy, I’m curious.”

“And you’re wanting to mate with me,” he added. “It can never happen. It will never happen.”

“Never say never,” she shot out like this was some game.

“And yet you just said it,” he muttered, still unable to be anything but entertained by her. “What about you, Gracie?”

“Nope, never orgasmed,” she said lightly.

“You’ve never mated?”

“I didn’t say I never mated, I said I never orgasmed. There’s a difference.”

Ruckus sat there, going over his limited sexual data he’d gained in the coven. He realized he never cared to even know such a thing. Orgasms were necessary for offspring, and it was the singular time it was permitted. “There was no pleasure.”

“There was some, but not an orgasm,” she said.

“I meant with the women in the coven,” he said. “There was no pleasure for them. Or maybe there was, and they were trained not to show it. We were all groomed to perform. To say what anybody felt would be a guess.” Unless there was pain, then you knew. And there had been many more occasions with that. He returned to the topic, curious. “You’re saying there’s a difference between having an orgasm and mating?”

“For a woman, yes,” she whispered. “I think I’m broken,” she barely muttered, like it was a sad fact she’d come to terms with.

“So…why are you wanting to mate with me? Offspring?”

“No!” she barely whispered. “I mean…I wouldn’t be opposed to that but…I often wondered if it was the mate that was the problem. And not me.”

She’d just given him the option to disprove a lifelong fatal flaw in the male species and he found himself wanting to before remembering, “I can’t mate with you.”

“That’s the thing, orgasms don’t even require mating for women. Or men, for that matter. Surely you’ve heard of masturbation.”

“Yes,” he remembered. “That was an abomination in our coven.”

“For the women too?”

He regarded her, realizing how much he lacked on the subject. He’d assumed it meant for the men since they were trained separately. “Explain.”

“I mean…were the women allowed to masturbate?”

His brain turned the concept over in his head, mostly the physics of it. “How?” he decided to just ask.

She eagerly turned in the swing. “You’ve never heard of it?”

“I wouldn’t be asking,” he said with certainty.

She nodded. “On the woman, there’s this…spot called…the clitoris.” She covered her face and sat forward. “This is embarrassing.”

“And what does the clitoris do?” Just saying it gave him an odd stir.

“It gives the orgasm,” she whispered.

“I figured as much. Where is it and how does it work?”

“Ohhhh that’s a little TMI to give.”

“What’ TMI?”

“Too much information.”

“As in too complicated?

“No as in too private!”

God she was a piece of work. “You’re going to have issue with telling me how a woman has an orgasm but not about wanting to mate with me?”

“Fine, it’s actually the part of her that she pees from and when you rub it for a length of time, you orgasm.”

“You’ve heard this?”

“I’ve had one!”

“You said you never had one,” he returned, confused.

“With a mate, no! With myself, yes. It’s called masturbation and women can do it too.”

He faced forward as missing pieces became need to know. “What are we talking about again? You want to see if you can have an orgasm with the right mate. I’ve told you that I can’t mate with you.”

“We are just talking,” she shrilled smacking her hands on her lap then covering her face. “Can we just…pretend this never came up? I want to change the subject.”

“Like hell I’m changing the subject. You dragged me this far, we’re getting to the end of it. You want something from me, and I want you to tell me what that is.”

“I want nothing form you that you can give.”

“You mentioned wanting an orgasm because you can’t have one while mating and you thought with the right mate, you might be able to and now you’re telling me you don’t even need to mate to have one. What do you really want Gracie? Just tell me.”

“I want to see if I can have an orgasm with the right man! Or…if a man can give me an orgasm. Are you happy now? I’m totally humiliated right here, I’m going to die now, thank you.”

“Was that really so hard? You told me what you wanted. And I’ll tell you my answer. After I think about it.”

“Oh no you don’t! That’s not how this works.”

He had to laugh. “How does it work?”

“I can’t just leave from this swing knowing you’re…thinking about that!”

“I’ll be thinking about it whether you know my answer or not.”

“Why not just decide! What’s so hard? If it’s that hard to know, then I don’t want you to. You want to or you don’t. God you suck, I am somehow more humiliated than I was ten seconds ago! I’m dead. Twice.”

He pulled her back to the swing when she got up to leave. “We’re not done.” He held her wrist when she fought to pull away.

“Are you going to make me like a bully?”

“Isn’t that what you want? Me to make you?”

She went still with her mouth open. “Why would you say that?” she barely muttered, no longer fighting.

“It’s not what I’m saying, it’s what your body is saying.”

“Can you let go of my wrist please?”

He stared at her, then released it.

“I change my mind. I don’t want an orgasm.”

“Now you’re lying.”

“I can want it and not want it, just like you.”

“There is nothing I want and don’t have. I don’t have what I don’t want,” he reminded her.

“Oh yes,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “You killed all your needs, so you didn’t have to suffer wanting them.”

“I killed what I didn’t need, Gracie. I have suffered plenty of other things,” he said, amazed to find that peace he got around her still intact.

She lifted her wrist, staring at her watch. “Wow, how time flies when you’re dying from humiliation,” she said lightly. “Thirty minutes till your meeting.”

“Aunt Gracie?”

Gracie turned. “Beth?”

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you two. People area wanting to meet you!”

“Oh boy, we’ve been hiding here.”

The Belle Eveque. The woman who managed to pull him out of hiding.

She waved at him with a bright smile. “Hi Mr. Ruckus.”

“Hello,” he returned, noting there was the same peace he felt with Gracie in just her greeting.

“Bishop was looking for you. Come on!” Beth held her hand out to her aunt and he followed them, amused with Gracie’s ability to go from dying in humiliation to jubilant in the span of ten seconds.