Page 1 of Undo Me

Chapter 1

“See the way she sifts her hair through her fingers, lifting it away from the kissable nape of her neck? She’s inviting you to smell the sun on her skin. To taste it with your tongue. Look at her. Right now, she couldn’t care less about securities and paperwork. For reasons that escape me, all she wants is you. She is ripe and ready for a good, hard fu—”

“Thank you, Ms. Dane,” the man said abruptly, glancing at his watch with an impatience he couldn’t quite conceal. “This was a very productive lunch, but I have a three o’clock so I think we should wrap this up.”

“Bah!” BD grunted in frustration, throwing his hands in the air. “Idiot. Did you hear nothing I said?”

“Of course, Mr. Bonneville. I’ll have the report in your inbox by morning.”

“Don’t forget to drop the receipt with accounting.” The man stood and turned away without a backward glance, his phone glued to his ear as he left the outdoor café.

And rudely walked right through BD.

“Fool.” He shouldn’t be surprised the man couldn’t see or hear him; the poor bastard didn’t even know when a beautiful, willing woman was offering herself up like a five-course meal.

The blonde’s shoulders drooped with a disappointed sigh. She drew her wallet from her purse and BD shook his head at the shame of it. He hadn’t even paid for lunch. The poor neglected thing. She couldn’t see him either, but maybe she could feel him.

He blew against her temple, focusing all his energy on ruffling the tendrils that had curled in the damp heat of the day. “You deserve better than that man, cher. Don’t waste your hopes on someone who is unwilling to appreciate you. If I were in his body, or any body at all, I would prove to you just how desirable you truly are.”

She shivered, glancing around suspiciously. Shaking her head and grumbling about stupid men and vibrators, she snatched up her briefcase, left her money on the table, and rushed off in the direction of the blockheaded male, leaving BD behind.

It was a state of being that had been happening far too often for his comfort.

First, Rousseau had ended their body-sharing bargain after years of mutual satisfaction to embrace monogamy with the admittedly breathtaking and courageous Allegra Jarod. And then Benjamin and Michelle had stopped bickering long enough to admit their feelings for each other, and were now blissfully playing house in a crumbly old mansion that should have been condemned years ago.

To be fair, Michelle had invited him to stay. They’d come a long way from her initial dislike of all things voodoo. But despite how tempting it was to remain in the company of someone who could actually see him in his current form, he couldn’t force himself to linger within those walls. Other than the young ghost who glared at him before scampering away without bothering with introductions, he wasn’t sure why.

He would almost swear some bokor had cursed the ground beneath it, to keep good spirits away. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have been pinned to the side of Michelle Toussaint these last few weeks? Not only did she have a sweet ass and a penchant for exhibitionism, she had also become a true ally after he’d rescued her brother.

She liked him. Not sexually, but in truth, and wasn’t that a rare and unexpected treat? That he would get to know her and Allegra now, see Rousseau and Ben in such a different light here, near the end of his grand, potentially mistaken adventure on this side of the Gate, seemed unfair in the extreme.

For over seven years he’d used a loophole to stay in this world, reveling in all the instant gratification, passion and excess that humanity had to offer. The things he’d done to those who knew to ask for him might someday be legend. But—and he’d never admit this out loud—he’d savored the quieter moments just as much. Rousseau’s visits with his mother. Casual conversations with vendors for Café Bwe. Reading a good book on a rainy day.

He loved everything about these mortals. Their resilience, their decadence, the sensations and heights they were capable of achieving. Which was why, when the open-ended deal Rousseau’s father selfishly made for his own pleasure landed in his immortal lap, well, he’d impulsively accepted.

If that had been against the almighty rules of the Loa families, they might have mentioned it years ago. Or forced him back to their side, as he’d seen them do to others who’d broken their laws.

To be honest, when so much time passed without repercussions, BD couldn’t help but wonder why his flagrant disobedience had been ignored. It was true that in his world, time had no meaning, and that seven years here might be seven hours there. Or seven lifetimes. He wasn’t sure how it all worked. He’d never cared. But still, no one had sought him out at all.

He might have gotten a complex if he hadn’t considered it the best of fortunes to be forgotten in New Orleans and left alone to indulge himself. Everything inside him told him he belonged here, and it wasn’t as if he’d hurt the people who called for him. If anything, he left them better than he found them.

“If we overstay our welcome where we don’t belong, the path twists and darkens, and we lose our way. Forget our purpose.”

How many times had Legba told him that? And as the keeper of the crossroads, he knew a lot on the subject. The basis of that belief came from experience. There were stories of those that had stayed on this side too long and become a creature like the djab, the rogue spirit who’d gone after Michelle, nearly killing Ben and her brother, Gabriel in the process.

BD had never been tempted, but that didn’t put him above the law, as he’d been reminded when he was forced to seek his brethren out to make his bargain. So now, in exchange for getting him to Michelle on time and saving her from the rogue, BD had to agree to finally leave the human realm for good. Because his request was selfless and for the benefit of a Toussaint, he would be allowed to remain in New Orleans until All Saints’ Day.

He should thank Michelle’s mother for that, he knew. The mambo was favored by the Loa.

It was a little extreme, particularly after their protracted silence, but the decision was final and absolute. Not a death penalty, but eternity under house arrest.

One day. The day the Ghede family, and a few selected Loa, could walk the earth in human form. Their own human form. It was a strange idea. He couldn’t even remember being human. In fact, it was one of the reasons his unique agreement with Rousseau had been so tempting. His desire to experience what so many Loa remembered and were allowed to recall one day a year. Until now, his name had never been on the list. And now it would be the only time it was.

He’d take it, even as a consolation prize. What Loa wouldn’t walk through fire for the chance to be in a body all his or her own? No struggles with a mortal’s soul, no guilt or hesitation. He could do what he chose, who he chose, and feel everything firsthand. It would be paradise from the first rays of one dawn until the next.

Bone Daddy unchained.

When it was done, he would pass through the Gate of Guinee—the gate to the other side. There he would remain, regardless of the pleas of the needy and sexually frustrated voodoo practitioners. It would be difficult to ignore their call. What was he if not the Love Doctor of the Big Easy? Merely a specter, a wraith. A nothing.

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