Harvest Moon (Beaux Rêve Coven 4)

“I’m saying that the Goddess blessed us.”

“That true?” came Ali’s voice. He stood in the entrance to the kitchen, nude and scratching his head.

“Yes, it’s true. I felt the moment of conception.”

“Any idea whose…” Ali asked, his tone hopeful.

She smiled. “I felt both moments of conception.”

Nikon and Ali grinned. And suddenly, Nikon was whirling around the kitchen, his cock still lodged inside her. When he set her butt on the kitchen table and hooked her knees to finish fucking her, she glanced across at Ali.

His expression was bemused. “I’m going to be a father.”

“I’m fucking my baby momma’s pussy!” Nikon said and gave her a flourish of quick, jackhammer thrusts.

Radha rolled her eyes and laughed.

Khan took in the sight of them, his wife and her other mate, and realized he was more than okay with this arrangement. It felt right. Nikon was a good guy, and between the two of them, they’d give Radha everything she desired—whether she wished it or not.

Hot SEAL, New Orleans Nights

SEALs in Paradise

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author

Delilah Devlin

Chapter 1

Thibaut T-Bone Cyr braced himself, knowing he’d be overwhelmed the second he stepped outside into old, familiar territory. For him, the Orleans Bourbon Hotel wasn’t a place brimming with memories. He’d only passed the exterior in his youth, which was why he’d elected to stay there while he contemplated his options. However, leaving the hotel’s confines was like stepping straight into his past. He’d roamed the French Quarter of New Orleans as a teenager, looking for trouble, and had many hazy memories of Mardi Gras celebrations and pub crawls, as well as clearer ones that still filled him with a stinging regret over what might have been.

Squinting at the waning daylight, Thibaut exited the hotel only to be instantly jostled on the sidewalk by a group of sweaty, sunburned tourists. The women were dressed in skimpy tops and shorts with fanny packs encircling their waists, where no doubt they’d hidden away cell phones, cameras, and city maps. After giving him brazen up-and-down glances, they giggled and moved away. Again, he wondered why he’d opted to stay in the center of the French Quarter when he could have called any of his family for a bed.

But he knew the answer to that. He’d wanted to remain under the radar. This trip wasn’t about a kid’s graduation or a cousin’s wedding. For the first time since he’d entered the Navy, he was seriously considering his future beyond the SEALs, and he knew if his family got a whiff of that notion, the pressure would be on to convince him New Orleans was in his blood. That he belonged back among his own people. These few days of quiet, before he announced his presence, were about him seeing whether he still felt a connection to the place he’d yearned for all these years.

His cell phone vibrated, and he slipped it out of his jeans pocket. Sliding his thumb across the screen, he read the message from Tony Nitro Gallo, one of his SEAL teammates.

Nitro: Hey, T-Bone. Team’s all here. Or at least what’s left of us. Where are you?

His cheeks billowed around a deep exhale then he quickly responded.

T-Bone: Won’t make it. Not in San Diego.

There was a long pause, and then the opening notes of Offspring’s “Nitro” played.

Grunting, Thibaut tapped his screen and put the phone to his ear. “Yeah.”

“What the hell do you mean you’re not in San Diego?” came Nitro’s gruff voice.

Music played in the background, and Thibaut could see his friends in his mind’s eye, seated around their usual table at McP’s. He might never have that with them again. He squinted against the bright sun—that was the reason his eyes burned. “I decided to take some leave.”

“Someone die?”

Fair question. The last time he’d been in New Orleans had been to attend his Tante Rosalie’s funeral two years ago. “No one’s dead.” So far as I know. He wasn’t exactly on everyone’s speed dial these days. He’d gotten tired of everyone asking when he was coming back “where he belonged” and had let too many months pass without reaching out.

He started walking toward Jackson Square, the back of St. Louis Cathedral looming straight ahead.

“So, when are you coming back?” Nitro shouted unnecessarily. He probably couldn’t hear Thibaut’s responses over the noise inside the bar.