Swamp Kings 2 (Bayou Bishops #20)

CHAPTER FOUR

Juliette struggled not to fidget as she followed along in her workbook. The love languages Beth was explaining were a first for her. They made sense in theory—acts of service, quality time, physical touch—but she struggled to match them to her and Kaj’s relationship. His love felt… more ancient and grounded in the rituals of his Viking roots. Their connection seemed to transcend these modern categories—and she loved that it did—but did they actually fit into this structured idea of love?

She glanced at Kaj, who sat next to her, quiet and focused. What was he focused on? Maybe rituals. Maybe his stubborn clan. Maybe her. Didn’t matter what he was thinking, just his presence carried her on a cloud.

She glanced around, seeing Tegan and Patches, vaguely hearing a hot debate about who was which language. Claire and Hurricane seemed to be on the same page if Claire’s smile was any indication but then her love language was all things Hurricane. She continued casually glancing around, stopping on Cat and 8-Bit. Mixed signals there. Just next to them was Shank and Sophia. Lord, those two seemed right on top of the love track. Phelony’s sharp gasp drew her attention, and she caught sight of Bacon attempting his favorite love language under the table, earning her smacks and Juliette’s giggles.

“You’re being very observant, Pretty Wrangler.”

She snapped her gaze to Kaj, the look in his blue eyes scattering her nice and good. “I was thinking about the love language,” she muttered. “What about you?”

“I was thinking this is a very limited list of languages.”

That news excited her. “Right? I honestly don’t see us in any of these.”

She scooted her chair as close to his as possible, putting the book between them while whispering, “Tell me what you’re thinking, husband.”

Kaj leaned closer, his deep voice a soft rumble through her body. “In my clan, love isn’t spoken with words like these. We don’t categorize it the same.”

“Juicy,” Juliette whispered with an eager smile, listening. “Tell me.”

“There’s protection—shielding you from harm, both seen and unseen. Sacrifice—giving up comfort or life itself for your well-being. Honor—respecting you in everything I do. Then, devotion—time spent together in rituals, whether praying or working the land. And yes…” His voice dipped lower. “Passion. Our love is like a storm, wild and consuming.”

Juliette shivered at his words, recognizing their intensity and truth. These weren’t things that fit neatly into any modern category. They were much deeper. Primal. She smiled softly, feeling a surge of pride in knowing she shared something so unique with him. “Passion, you say?”

Kaj's lips curved in a slow smile. “I think that one is universal, don't you?”

“I do think it is.”

“You guys managing?” Beth asked when her teacher rounds brought her to their table.

“We are now,” Juliette beamed. “Not to brag,” she said, happily doing exactly that. “But it turns out Kaj has his own Viking love language.”

Beth sucked in a breath of surprise. “Really!” She held her own workbook against her chest. “ Please tell me. ”

Juliette grinned at her big brother behind his wife when he poked the tip of her nose like he used to when she was a kid. She regarded Kaj, seeing him uncomfortable.

“I’ll tell her,” Juliette said, realizing it might be against custom for him to do all that publicly. “So there’s…” she regarded Kaj, trying to remember what was first.

“Protection,” he helped.

“Yes, protection from harm, seen or unseen. And then… Honor,” she remembered, getting his nod. “Where he respects me in everything I do. And me him of course. Then uhhhh…”

“Protection, sacrifice, honor, devotion, and passion,” Kaj said, apparently not wanting to drag it out.

“But tell her what they all mean,” Juliette urged, excited, looking up at Beth. “That’s the good parts.”

Kaj restated them for her in his priestly tone which was its own kind of sexy to her and after, Beth turned to Bishop. “This is amazing.” She faced the class and called, “Excuse me everybody. I want to make an adjustment to the love language assignment. The five I listed are very general I'm realizing, so feel free to add your own way of expressing what you love, how, and why—something you feel that accurately fits. And if you don’t mind, bring it to the next class so we can share, I absolutely love this idea.” She turned back to them with a beaming smile. “Thank you Kaj and Juliette.”

“What kind of Vicki vocabulary you shootin’ your mouth off with?” Bullets said a few tables over.

“Ask my sister, gunny sack.”

Bullets did it immediately. “What kind of Vicki vocabulary is he talkin’ about, wife?”

“I have no idea,” she said, sounding intrigued.

“Fuck,” Kaj barely muttered.

“What?” Juliette whispered.

“She doesn’t know our most cherished customs, that’s what.”

“How wouldn’t she?” Juliette figured it out the second she asked. “Them bastards.”

“Exactly.” Kaj looked over at Bullets. “I’ll tell you later, my pew-pew paladin.”

Juliette snickered with the rest of the couples near enough to hear. “Lordy, I love y’all’s name war.

“Much obliged, my boudin barbarian,” Bullets said, bringing an eruption of laughter.

“Okay, I know it’s late,” Beth called out after the chuckles subsided. “But if you guys are willing, we can wrap up with one final thing. Fifteen more minutes?”

“Let’s do it,” Tegan said.

“I’m ready,” Cherie urged.

“I could stand another four hours of this.”

Juliette recognized Gracie’s voice and leaned to see where she was. All the way at the back with Ruckus looking like he could stand walking out. Must all be weird for him after living alone for all those years. Would love to hear his love languages. Silence. Staring. Grunting. Pushing. Shoving.

“So, since love languages aren’t always obvious, how about we discuss ways to better understand what you and your partner need. Learning and communicating, all without judgment, that’s what this is about. So…” She brought her hands together at the front of the room, looking all around with a smile. “I just want to pause and say how good we’re all doing, I think?” she praised with nods before jumping back in.

“Ain’t she precious,” Juliette muttered.

“So very amazing,” Kaj muttered back.

She angled warning eyes at him, and he chuckled lowly.

“Another one of your love languages not listed.”

“Yeah?”

“Me despising all other women.”

She stifled a big laugh right on his mouth then whispered, “Very good my Valhalla Hunk.”

****

“Oh, this one’s for us, momma,” Hurricane muttered, stealing another kiss, obsessed with how she blushed every single time he did. Kissing her was definitely his love language. Touching her. With every part of himself. Like a fucking leech. He needed to add that to the love language list. Leeching.

“I realize this may be new territory for a lot of us,” their Belle Eveque went on, “but I promise it’ll be well worth it.”

Oh, it already was. He’d never learned how dumb he was about something in such a short span. Everything she laid down was a grand revelation.

“Now… let’s take a step back and think about the tools we are all born with—touch, taste, smell, sight, and sound. How can we use these in the five love languages? Well, so very many ways,” she assured. “Le t’s start by focusing on one sense at a time. Think about touch, for example. When your partner touches you—whether it’s a hug, holding hands, or a casual brush on your arm—how does that make you feel? Does it make you feel closer?”

“More like makes me fear for my life.”

Hurricane turned and a laugh escaped him at seeing T-Boy with his arms crossed in his chair, eyes all for real.

“Okay,” Belle Eveque said, curious. “If you’re comfortable, I’d like to understand more.”

Bruh, he was ballsy to say that with a wife like Georgia. She did not play. And the way she glared at him had Hurricane turned in his chair, ready with grins and giggles at what was brewing. “Well, go on, Harold,” his wife urged cooly. “Tell the class why you fear for your life so we can all be clued in."

“Well, the hugging part, for one,” he clarified, getting a dramatic what the actual fuck all look from his wife.

“And when the hell’s the last time you ever tried to hug me?” she challenged.

His eyes went huge. “I don’t remember ‘cause I like breathing.”

She jerked a whole six inches back in her seat. “That’s some bullshit right there!” She regarded the Belle Eveque. “He ain’t afraid uh shit, that man ain’t hugged me since my mother died and that was like gettin’ a beatin’ with dumb wooden arms.”

Holy fuck. The snickers were afoot.

T-Boy fired back with, “Lady, you damn well know you’re like a venus fly trap. She even has one,” he informed the class. “And they’re as innocent looking as she is, shardy teeth in every direction, ready to bite off the first head that’s stupid enough to get too close at the wrong time which is every minute she ain’t sleepin’.”

“Well it sure as shit don’t stop you from getting in my bed, now does it,” she said loud and pissed.

“Never said you’re not worth some risks,” he amended, adding another foot to his grave. “But if I’m gonna put my life on the line it ain’t gonna be for no hug. And look, I’m fine with never huggin’,” he swore up and down, “I realize it ain't for everybody.”

She jerked back again, chair and all this time. “That is some swamp stupid right there. So I don’t mind wrappin’ around you in bed but I mind huggin’? Harold, what the hell kind of boggy-brained-backward is that?”

His eyes fuckin’ bugged in shock. “You sayin’ you want hugs?” he cried .

“How the hell would I know, I never get ‘em!” she yelled.

“Okay,” Beth cut in loudly, hurrying to their table with Bishop right on her six. “Believe it or not, this is good,” she said. “Seems we’ve uncovered a massive misunderstanding. Harold thought Georgia didn’t want hugs and it turns out—”

“I don’t want hugs,” Georgia said, annoyed.

Harold shot his hand out at her. “Now you heard it.”

“No, you don’t fuckin’ hear shit ,” Georgia assured, leaning toward him. “I don’t want hugs, and I don’t not want hugs, but you are full of fuckin’ shit about what you said.”

He stared at her, shaking his head. “You tellin’ me there’s a chance in heck you might want hugs?”

“I’m tellin’ you I don’t give a rip if you hug me or not. You don’t wanna hug me, that’s you. I’m not begging you for no fuckin’ hugs.”

“I’m sorry,” Belle Eveque cut in quickly. “Can I ask you a question, Harold?”

He eyed her with his arms still crossed, then shrugged. “Go for it.”

“Do you want to hug Georgia.”

He regarded his wife then Belle Eveque. “If she wanted hugs, yeah.”

“Okay let me ask this differently. Do you want to hug Georgia regardless of if she wants to be hugged, erase that part.”

He considered it for a few seconds. “I mean… I love touching her.”

Belle Eveque looked at Georgia. “And would you want to hug Harold?”

“Would I want to hug my husband?” she asked. “I would think yes since I want to do all the other physical stuff with him.”

“Okay, that’s good but just a note. Sometimes we might do those other physical things because we feel obligated.”

She shook her head real big. “That ain’t how I work, honey. If I didn’t wanna do that other thing, then I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

Harold nodded real big, confirming.

“I got me a swamp twin,” that Butterfly lady laughed.

“ Hey sis,” Georgia called out without turning.

“So final question,” Belle Eveque said, a hand aimed at each of them. “Big huge favor, you can call it a class demonstration for the rest of those needing it. Would you both be willing to stand up right now and give each other a hug?”

They both regarded each other, and Georgia shrugged. “Fine by me, it’s just a damn hug,” she muttered, like it was blown way out of proportion.

Belle Eveque stepped quickly back, giving them room.

Hurricane glanced at Claire after grabbing hold of her hand. Fuck, the frantic look on her sweet face. She surely had hugging issues, but he was working on those.

“Okay, who wants to hug first?” Belle Eveque asked.

They both looked at her, confused. “I thought that was like a duo job,” Georgia said.

“Me too,” Harold muttered.

“Oh, it can be,” Belle Eveque hurried. “But it can also be a one-sided thing. Where you have a hugger, and a huggee. Or the one being hugged,” she clarified with a little laugh.

“Ladies’ first,” Harold suggested.

Georgia side-eyed him and muttered, “Chicken shit,” while stepping closer. She eyed him for several seconds. “You want a straight-jacket or a hug?” she cried quietly. “Open your arms!”

The second he did, she moved in, hugging him tight while Harold’s arms remained up in the air like a fuckin’ zombie tasting brains for the first time and realizing he might really like it.

Georgia released him and stepped back then opened her arms. “Your turn, dumbass,” she said, when he stared at her in confusion.

He went in, his towering height requiring him to bend his knees a little. He wrapped his arms around Georgia who wrapped her arms back then giggled when he lifted her off the floor. “Damn, you’re light.”

“Perfect, but don’t stop yet,” Belle Eveque said. “Georgia, how does it feel?”

“Well, it don’t hurt none.”

“Does it feel good?”

She eyed Harold. “I guess it does.”

Harold grinned. “I like how light she is.”

“Great! Now, this is what we’d call a general hug,” Belle Eveque informed the class. “There are many types of hugs. Family hugs, comforting hugs, sorry hugs, passionate hugs. And this here demonstration hug.”

“You can set me down now,” Georgia said.

“Yes, we’re done, great job you two. I want you to practice that at home and tell me all about it at the next class.”

She turned to the rest of them. “Hugging,” she announced, amazed. “Seems so little a thing and yet can be so powerful. Communication,” she added, turning back to Harold and Georgia. “Can I ask how many years you both had the wrong idea about hugging one another?”

“Apparently since we’ve been married,” Georgia said, annoyed. “So, seventeen years.”

“Seventeen years,” Belle Eveque marveled, facing the class again. “For seventeen years they could have been enjoying one of the very biggest power-tools of marriage but couldn’t because?”

“You gotta talk.”

All eyes turned to the deep voice of Lazure, their senior alpha, while Mah-Mah nodded with a sad face next to him.

“No communication, is no fun,” she assured. “I went years missing out on a lot of amazing things all because I was too afraid to speak up.”

“We both missed out,” Lazure said.

“But not anymore.” Mah-Mah’s smile beamed as she lay her head on his shoulder, drawing a room full of sha-pee-chays.

“Now, later, when everybody goes home, check out page sixteen in the booklet. I wrote down the power of hugs. And since I memorized them, I’ll quickly tell you what they’re capable of. Especially passionate hugging.” She listed them off on her fingers. “They reduce stress, promote feelings of safety, boost bonding, improve mood, lower blood pressure, relieve pain, enhance immune function…” She paused for a few seconds. “Foster trust, strengthen relationships, and… improve sleep quality,” she finished with finality. “The book offers an in-depth explanation of how a hug is capable of so much and so when I ask you all to practice this lost art, realize you’re not just practicing a simple hug, you’re exercising one of the most powerful weapons in our three-legged race/war against life and all it throws at us.”

“I got a question.”

Everybody turned to the Butterfly lady again.

“Yes,” Belle Eveque urged, eagerly.

“Asking for a friend,” she began with a nervous laugh. “What if you’ve had so much bullshit happen to you in life, you just can’t hug, like… there’s a wall they may wanna escape but don’t know how and you try to bust through, but you just can’t seem to.”

Hurricane raised his hand. “I know that one.”

Belle Eveque turned to him in surprise. “Great! Can you share?”

He regarded Claire and leaned in. “You mind? ”

“Don’t say no private stuff,” she whispered quickly.

He kissed her cheek. “Never, baby. All your secrets are safe with me.”

When it came time to speak, Hurricane remembered he wasn’t the best at that. “Hell, you know me, I like to plow through things and words is no exception. Maybe a demonstration would be better.” He looked around for a suitable brother.

“Bishop,” Belle Eveque offered. “He’s here for the demonstrations.”

Bishop approached, looking like the devil playing dress up, his halo crooked, his wings filthy and his face a mask of you’ll be dying later .

Fuckin’ hilarious.

“What do you want from me, Loverboy?” he asked.

“Okay so, I’m gonna re-enact a situation. We need a little space.”

“Up at the front,” Belle Eveque suggested, eagerly.

They made their way to the front and Hurricane turned to the class. “So, sometimes when I come home, I might find my sweet wife at the sink doing dishes. Ten steps away and I can feel an entire swamp fortress surrounding her with the meanest alligators guarding the moat.” He turned to Bishop and angled him with his back to him. “You’re at the sink doing dishes.”

Everybody chuckled when Bishop started pretending to wash and Hurricane ran back a few steps, pretending to stand outside the house.

“Now, first,” he informed the class. “I’ve got to get past the gators, then knock on the gate.” Hurricane opened the pretend door and called, “Hey baby, I’m home.”

“Well, hello, honey,” Bishop called in a crackly feminine voice, filling the room with guffaws.

“How was your day, momma?” Hurricane said, creeping up behind her. “Lie and pretend it was amazing,” he instructed.

“Oh, I had the best damn day, my category five snuggle bug,” he squeaked while the entire room laughed their asses off.

Hurricane slowly opened his arms while making his way toward her. “So happy to hear that, momma.” He glanced at the class. “Now I gotta sell something she can’t resist,” he explained. “How about a big hug?” he asked loudly before telling Bishop, “You’ll let me but you don’t like it, but you’re pretending you do.”

Hurricane grabbed Bishop from behind in a big bear hug .

“Oh yay, a hug,” Bishop yodeled while standing there like a dead person. “I love hugging so much.” Everybody cracked up when he let his head fall back in boredom. “Are we done? I think the phone is ringing.”

“No!” Hurricane laughed. “Let the phone ring. I’m not done.”

“I think I smell a fire.”

“There’s no fire! Just the fire of my passion !”

“But I need to pee!” he sang, laughing too now.

“I got you! You’re safe to let go!” Hurricane yelled. “Don’t fuckin’ piss on me, bruh!”

Bishop dragged them both to the floor and before Hurricane could recover, he turned him into the huggee. “Oh my Hurricane,” he yelled, only in a demonic voice now, putting him in a full body lock. “Let me love you to death!”

Hurricane grappled with him then gave up when laughing made it too hard. Bishop suddenly let go and hopped to his feet, holding his hand out. Hurricane took it and got yanked up then manhandled in another rough hug before getting shoved off.

Hurricane held both hands out to Bishop while looking at the audience between laughing breaths. “Ladies and gentlemen. Our Eveque. The Cuddle Kingpin!”

He gave a grand bow as everybody clapped while all the brothers still howled and laughed their asses off. “Now listen up,” Bishop yelled at the class with a clap. “I want everybody to get their asses home and hug the fuck out of their spouses.” He pointed at all of them. “Or you’ll report to me for hugging therapy.”