Expiez: Redeem Your Blood Lust (8 page)

Darus was sitting at a back table talking to two police officers.

"What's going on?" Armand asked Slade.

"I guess Clare's ex was harassing her and Darus intervened and got clocked a good one. He's pressing charges against the guy. McCoy told him it was the easiest way to get the bastard in jail and away from Clare. I offered my ass kicking services, but they were declined."

Julia remembered what Clare had said but couldn't believe it. Apparently, neither did Armand. "He's pressing charges…to protect Clare?"

"So it seems."

Armand looked utterly confused as he slipped into the back room.

Julia followed. "What?" she asked. He just shook his head and headed for the stairs, climbing them slowly, like he was chewing something over. "What?" she repeated, a half step behind him. "Armand, please, tell me what you're thinking."

"It's just…" He pushed open the door to their apartment. "…I've known Darus a long time. It's completely out of character for him to do something for someone else unless it directly benefits him. I don't see what the perks for him are."

"He gets Clare?"

"I think he was well on his way to achieving that goal—without going to the extra effort of contacting the police."

She barely heard the last part; she was fighting the bile trying to climb out of her stomach.

"I just wonder if there might be some truth to him wanting to turn over a new leaf."

"Not you too!"

"I'm not conceding to it. Just considering the possibility..."

"No."

"Not to even ponder—"

"No. Everyone else is team Darus. Angel, Kate, even Slade. Someone has to be on my side: team anyone but Darus. Or Chris. We can call it team Clare."

He laughed. "Okay." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, kissed her cheek, and guided her back to the couch. "I'm on whatever team you're on." Taking her with him as he sat, he released her to retrieve their wine and then slid his arm back around her.

She settled her head against his chest, closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth of his touch and his amazing scent. She used to think it was the cologne he wore that made him smell so delicious—and that
was
partially it—but he came out of the shower smelling divine. Most of it was simply his body chemistry combined with his clean, healthy, heavily spiced diet. Add the Myrrh he liked to wear and he smelled like heaven.

"So what do we do about Clare?" she asked.

"The only thing we can. Make her see what a deviant Darus truly is."

Chapter Seven

Clare woke up the next morning feeling like she had ants in her pants—well, panties—and her skin was two sizes too small. She needed a change, something to drastically alter her world—even more than leaving Chris and moving to NOLA. A metamorphoses, so to speak, to celebrate ridding herself of Chris. Something to mark the occasion, to signify becoming a new person.

Since she couldn't slip into a new skin suit, she'd have to settle for something modifiable, like her hair. A new tattoo might also satisfy the itch, but she was smart enough to think through her tattoos. She'd seen enough bad decisions permanently drawn on people's skin while working at Skintasm to know impulsive tattoos were rarely a good idea. A new piercing was also an option, but she couldn't think of a body part she wanted to pierce that didn't already have a hole.

So hair it was. A cut wouldn't be enough; she needed to change the color. The blue was way too peppy. She wanted something dark to match her mood, something that would easily cover the old color and her roots. Straight black was too boring, but surely there was another dark color that would work.

She knew she should go down to the police station and file a restraining order against Chris, but it was the last thing she wanted to do. Instead, the minute she was presentable enough to be seen in public, she headed down to a Goth/punk store on Decatur.

She picked up some dark purple vegetable dye and a cute mini that was on clearance, and headed home, stopping briefly for a cup of coffee.

After letting the dye saturate for a good hour, she went after it with the scissors. She routinely cut her own hair and had for years. Using a second mirror for the back, she gave herself an edgy, stacked bob that was shoulder length in the front and super short in the back. In some ways she was removing of the last piece of Chris, since she'd only grown her hair at his request. Chopping all the length off the back was the final fuck you to the relationship and it felt good for that weight to be lifted.

She was putting the final touches on the new 'do with a flatiron when Julia suddenly appeared in the bathroom mirror behind her.

"Looks good," Julia said.

"Thanks." Clare ran the iron a couple more times over the longer front strips of hair, making sure they framed her face perfectly before shutting it off and turning to Julia.

"Want to go get something to eat?"

"Yes. On one condition. We're not talking about last night."

Julia grimaced. "I—"

"I'm serious. There are plenty of other things to talk about."

"Fine."

They had dinner at an upscale French/German restaurant in the Central Business District. Armand was apparently meeting with a counselor at Tulane University to see what classes he needed to finish up his undergrad degree. Clare was pretty sure Julia chose the restaurant because there wasn't a single vegetarian item on the menu. Julia ordered lamb.

"Chris was arrested last night," she said midway through the meal.

Clare wasn't surprised. Relieved, but not surprised. "What for?"

"Drunk and disorderly."

Clare groaned. "Great. That'll keep him for what, two hours?"

"I think he'll be in there a little longer than that."

"I've been arrested for drunk and disorderly. Trust me, the cops only keep you until the drunk part is out of the equation. God, I should have filed that restraining order today."

"I don't think you have to worry. Yet. It's a little more serious than that."

"What do you mean?"

She may as well have asked the meaning of life the way Julia was chewing on her answer. After Clare stared her down for a good minute, she finally spoke. "He's also been arrested for battery."

Again, she wasn't exactly surprised or anything, but unless someone was flirting with her, Chris didn't usually attack random strangers. Plus, Julia's hesitance when answering made her suspicious. "Against who?"

Julia moved her food around on the plate.

"Against who?" Julia took a bite. If she was avoiding this much, it could only be one person. "It was Darus wasn't it?"

"Yes." She exhaled the word like an exasperated teenager.

"Why would he do that? I mean, I know Chris hit him, but he seemed more worried about me calling the police than pressing charges himself… Wait!" Clare felt her face light up. "He did it for me, didn't he? Because I didn't call."

"I doubt it. Darus is completely self-serving."

She wanted to argue about how stepping in front of Chris' fist as it flew toward her face was the opposite of self-serving, but decided it wasn't worth her energy. Julia wouldn't be convinced unless Darus took a bullet for her or something.

"Well, whatever. At least Chris is in jail."

"The battery charge won't last forever. You still need to file a restraining order."

"I will. Maybe tomorrow."

Neither Chris nor Darus was brought up again, and that suited Clare just fine. She still had an itch that needed scratching, so after dinner and after they got back home, she excused herself from Julia's company with an "I'm beat" excuse. Once again, she felt like a defiant teenager as she threw on her new mini, a lot more makeup, and snuck out the back entrance into the courtyard.

It wasn't that she didn't love her sister or want to spend time with her, but she needed to dance, drink too much, and maybe flirt inappropriately with a guy. To get crazy. Julia was cool, but she was enough of a fuddy-duddy that Clare doubted she'd approve if she made out with a random stranger.

Besides, flying solo was just the freedom she'd been craving—no arguing, no drama, no restrictions. She could go to whichever bar she wanted, leave whenever she wanted, talk to whoever she wanted… And as she walked down Royal toward the Square, she felt a rush of exuberance. Free. She was finally free.

* * * *

By about eleven p.m., Darus needed to take a break from his latest work in progress—a post-apocalyptic graphic zombie novel. Since the artwork was mostly complete, he was working primarily on the text. Being a graphic novel, there wasn't much of it. He was shocked it was giving him such a hard time.

A little inspirational break was what he needed. Fifteen minutes later he was lounging in the private room at The Cell, watching dancers get sweaty on the dance floor and sipping on a Gin Rickey, one of the few classic cocktails this bar had the ingredients to make. That was one of the things preferable at
Luxure
. Slade was an excellent mixologist.

He would never admit that to his face, of course. But the man who could body double for Arnold Schwarzenegger in the Conan days was one of the best bartenders in New Orleans. And there were a lot of bartenders in the city.

He was about midway through his cocktail when one of the dancers caught his eye. She was a hot little number, with short, dark purple hair and a skirt that covered her ass and not much more. In spite of her attire, she was dancing alone and appeared perfectly content that way. He couldn't see her face but her body language said it all. She was dancing for herself and no one else, and that made it damn sexy.

When she finally turned to face him he nearly choked on the liquid in his mouth. That was Clare dancing with her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her pretty face.

Two coyotes were circling her, trying to figure out how to slip in for the kill. He wasn't about to let them. Tossing his drink on the end table, he bolted through the door. Squeezing through the crowd, he slipped into the tiny empty space between her and one of the coyotes, placing one hand on her shoulder and matching his body's rhythm to hers. Her eyes flashed open and registered shock when they saw him.

"You changed your hair," he said before she could say anything. "I like it."

"I needed a change."

"I understand. You look absolutely gorgeous." Her smile was both sassy and shy. "You know you have a couple stalking predators," he told her, indicating the coyotes sulking at the edge of the dance floor.

She turned to look at them. "And you thought you'd rush in to protect me?"

His body rolled with the music and she mimicked him perfectly, keeping her hips close to his. "Something like that."

"Because you're
less
of a predator?"

His hand moved from her shoulder to the small of her back, pulling her in closer. "For you, I'm the good kind of predator. T
rust me. You'll like it when I eat you."

She laughed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. The gestures might have been dismissive; her body language was anything but. She closed the miniscule distance between them, keeping her body pressed against his as she took control of the dance with a suggestive sway of her hips.
She moved like liquid silk, luring his body to forget it had bones and follow her. It was easy to do and he would have happily given up his bones to do it.

As the song shifted to more aggressive tune, she took his hand and led him from the dance floor. "Come on. Let me buy you a drink."

* * * *

Clare felt like the most powerful woman in the universe as she guided Darus toward the back bar. Sure he was full of swagger, and probably had a dictionary filled with pickup lines, but there was something about the way he looked at her made her feel sexier than she ever had. And despite what Julia said, at this moment she felt like he would do anything for her. He could probably make her come a dozen times, too. If she decided to take it that far.

She wasn't a sexually inhibited girl by any means, nor was she opposed to a casual fling. But she didn't make a habit of it either. Tonight though, all bets were off. She wanted to be crazy. She needed to be crazy. And getting dirty with Darus was exactly the crazy she needed.

They ordered drinks and when she went to pay, he put a hand over the money to stop her. "I told you I'd buy you a drink," she said.

"Let me get it."

"Are you trying to be chivalrous or something?"

"Me? Chivalrous? Please. They just give me the hookup on drinks."

His expression was completely neutral as he nodded to the bartender, but something about the way he casually sipped his cocktail told her he was full of shit.

She smiled inwardly. She knew a cover when she saw one. Why he constantly played the bad guy when he was so obviously not was one mystery she'd like to solve.

"Your face looks better than I expected. The bruising really brings out your eyes."

"I'm a fast healer." He gave her a sidelong glance. "Or maybe it was the soybean cold pack."

She sat on a barstool, swirling the ice around in her glass with the straw. He didn't sit, but leaned on the bar and watched her.

"Did you really press charges against Chris?" she asked after a moment.

"I did. Did you file a restraining order?"

"Not yet." He gave her a hard look. "I will, I will."

"Please do. I don't think my face will hold up if I have to get between you and Chris' fist again."

"Thanks again for that."

"Don't mention it. So what are you doing here by yourself? Where's your entourage?"

"I ditched them."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"Clare." He feigned shock. "Are you here to get frisky?"

"Maaaybe."

He looked at her like she was filet mignon and he was starving. "I can help you with that."

"I'm sure you can."

He flashed his teeth in a grin. "I do like your hair." He looked around her head at the back. "There's less to pull, but I can improvise."

"You don't stop, do you?"

"I won't stop until your blood is in my mouth and my cock is inside you."

"Fat chance." But her core definitely clenched at the thought. She took another drink. She had to admit, she'd put on this skirt tonight with him in mind.

"Which part?"

"All of it."

"You can't tell me you aren't turned on right now."

"No." But her voice caught in her throat.

He leaned close. "I can smell your arousal, Clare."

"That's the patchouli."

He chuckled. "Really? So your panties aren't soaked right now?"

"Who says I'm wearing panties?"

His fingers dropped to her thigh. "So if I slid my hand under your skirt, what would I find?"

She bit her lip. His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering on the teeth pressed into her lower lip. He moved in closer, his hand slowly inching higher. She found her legs parting for him.

He lifted his gaze to hers, his gray eyes lustful. Keeping her lip firmly clamped between her teeth she grinned.

It was all the invitation he needed. His hand reached the top of her thigh. "You lied to me. Not only are you wearing panties, they're drenched." His thumb brushed across her clit—swollen and aching behind the satin fabric. "I want to make you come on this barstool," he said into her ear while his thumb continued to rub over her sex.