La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust (24 page)

He shook some Betadine onto a square of
cotton gauze, and carefully rubbed it over the marks. It stung and
she bit her lip. Unfortunately, he noticed.

"Julia, I cannot apologize enough."

"Not necessary. It's totally okay."

After finishing with the Betadine, he tossed
the used, rust colored gauze into a plastic bag. "No, it
isn't."

He reached for a jar tucked into the medical
kit, and she grabbed his arm. He looked at her, his frown lines
deep. "Please, stop. This was a perfect evening.
Everything
was perfect."

"I hate losing control."

"Well, I loved it."

With a snort, he shook his head. Pulling out
the jar and unscrewing the top, he dipped his fingers in the cream
inside. Brushing her hair aside, he dabbed the cream on the marks.
It felt cool and numbing.

"Alright. But next time, try not to be so
damn tantalizing."

She liked the idea of there being another
time. "I'll try," she said, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

Spying her from the corner of his eyes, he
unwrapped a square band-aid. "That might be impossible," he said,
pressing the bandage against her neck. "Lie down, let me treat your
leg."

She obeyed, surprised by how comfortable his
bed felt and how tired she found herself. He rubbed a little bit of
the cream on the small incision and covered it with another
band-aid. She glanced at the tiny cut on his chest. The blood had
stopped, and the wound looked like it was already closing up. "What
about you?"

"I'm fine." Screwing the lid back on the jar,
he returned it to the medical kit and set it aside.

She yawned. "Is it still storming?"

"Yes." He stretched along side her, wrapping
an arm around her waist. His naked body felt so good next to hers.
"It should pass in a few hours."

She turned into him and inhaled his perfect
scent. "Hmmm, it can take all the time it wants if it means I can
stay here." The drowsiness was beginning to overtake her. It became
harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

He pressed his lips onto her forehead.
"You're remarkable, you know that?" he said into her hair.

"Me?" she snorted weakly. "Please. You're the
incredible one. I'm nothing special, just...me."

He pulled her closer. "I couldn't ask for
more."

Nuzzling into his chest, she couldn't fight
the warmth of his arms, the softness of his bed, or the darkness
that was quickly consuming her.

Chapter Seventeen

Armand lay next to Julia for more than an
hour, enjoying the feel of her silky skin and the gentle sounds of
her breathing. He would have loved nothing more than to curl up and
actually sleep with her, but while it might be midnight, to him it
was essentially mid-afternoon.

It was shocking how good she felt in his
arms. As drawn as he was to her, he supposed he shouldn't be
surprised. It had been so long since he'd been truly intimate with
a woman, he didn't realize how much he craved the connection. The
contentedness he felt as a single man couldn't begin to compare to
the satisfaction of having her next to him.

Outside, the storm was beginning to taper.
The rain was still a steady patter against the shutters, but the
wind no longer screeched as it howled through cracks and
crevices.

Murmuring softly, Julia nuzzled into his
neck. Armand closed his eyes. The intensity of her touch was so
overwhelming it was almost painful. He welcomed it, savored it. She
could stay in his arms forever.

Faintly, he heard someone moving downstairs
in the bar. The noise was barely discernable over the sounds of the
fading storm outside, but that only made it more alarming. Whoever
was down there was trying not to be discovered.

Gently lifting Julia off his arm, Armand
eased from the bed. He paused long enough to slide on a pair of
silk pajama pants before padding silently through his apartment,
down the dark stairs, and into
Luxure's
back room. A flash
light beam bounced off the bar walls, giving him just enough light
to make his way though the neatly cluttered storage room in
silence.

Armand stopped at the doorway that led into
the bar, watching the movement in the room through the gape in the
velvet curtains. Whoever it was, they were obviously scanning the
bar. But if they were looking for something to steal, they weren't
looking in the right place. The flashlight was focused on the walls
of the club, scanning the perimeter and sliding past the bar
entirely. It didn't make sense, unless...

He caught a glimpse the intruder's silhouette
and rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he wondered as he
shoved through the heavy fabric.

Slade almost dropped the flashlight as he
jumped back startled, swinging the blinding light right into
Armand's eyes. Armand threw a hand up to block the offending
brightness, and Slade dropped the light from his face.

"Fuck, dude. You scared the shit out of
me."

"I hadn't noticed."

Grabbing a book of matches from the napkin
caddy, Armand struck a match and lit the candle he'd left on the
bar earlier. Shaking out the flame, he tossed the blackened match
in the sink. "So, what are you doing here?" he repeated.

Slade clicked off the flashlight and set it
on the bar. "When you didn't answer your cell, I got a little
worried and came by to check the place."

"Cell service is down."

"Not anymore it isn't. In fact, it's been up
for a few hours." Slade's eyes narrowed as he gave Armand a quick
once over. "You have a girl upstairs, don't you?"

It wasn't a question Armand was anticipating,
and he didn't have a response ready. "Why do you ask?" he said
finally, choking out the words.

"First, you're running around half-naked and
second, you've got some good marks on you."

"What the fuck difference does it make?"

"Shit, dude, no need to go on the defense. I
don't care. I'm just happy you got laid. It's been long
enough."

"Well, thanks for coming by. I appreciate
your dedication," Armand said tightly. "You can take off though.
Bar's fine."

Slade stared at him. "Holy fuck. It's her,
isn't it? Miss vanilla princess. Jesus, Armand, what are you doing
with that bitch?"

Rage immediately consumed Armand. He slammed
his fists on the bar, taking the aggression out on the old wood
instead of jumping over it and putting his fists into Slade's thick
skull. "Get the fuck out before I throw you out."

Slade held up his hands. "Easy, man. Don't
get your panties in a bunch over some broad. I'm just saying. She's
bad news."

"It's none of your fucking business," Armand
growled, fire racing through his veins. Every muscle in his body
was contracted as he fought the desire to tear into his friend.
"Get. Out."

Slade grabbed the flashlight. "Sure."

Armand watched him walk out the main entrance
before spinning on his heels and heading towards the stairs, his
footsteps heavy with rage. He wasn't angry. He was seething.

Maybe he shouldn't be surprised or even
angered by Slade's comments. It wasn't like they weren't expected,
but hearing the other man degrade the woman he'd just spent two of
the most amazing and intense hours with sent his blood boiling.

Why the fuck did it matter to Slade so much?
Sure, Julia was an outsider to the Community, but everyone started
out that way. No one was born a member. You had to be inducted. The
only difference between Julia and the average newbie seeking to
join the Sang Community was her outward appearance. Why the hell
did Slade care if her skin was tattoo-free, or her hair color was
natural, or her jeans were name brand?

Slade was overprotective of the Community,
for good reason perhaps, but being threatened by Julia's
normalcy
was ridiculous. It was even more infuriating that
Slade hadn't had an issue with Eve, but Julia was somehow "bad
news". The whole fucking business just pissed Armand off.

He stopped at the stairs, unable to bring his
legs to climb them. If he went into the apartment now, he'd taint
the energy with the negative fury oozing from his pores. A walk was
out of the question, and the only other viable option was to sweat
the anger out.

Choosing the door leading out into the
courtyard instead of the stairs, Armand jogged barefoot across the
wet bricks and up the stairs into the gym.

He hit the punching bag first, filling the
air with chalky dust and testing the strength of the I-beams that
groaned with every swing of the heavy bag. When that didn't pacify
him, he moved to the treadmill. Five miles passed pretty quickly.
The steady pounding of his bare feet against the revolving rubber
track and the sweat that coated his skin, helped ease some of the
anger from his bones. He wasn't completely pacified, but enough of
the edge had been taken off that he felt comfortable going back
into his apartment.

After grabbing a towel, Armand stepped
outside. The rain was cold and refreshing against his heated skin.
He didn't hurry across the courtyard. Instead, he took his time,
letting the rain help wash away his worries.

He loved it here, in New Orleans. He'd always
loved it here. He was born here, grew up here. This was his home,
plain and simple. None of the other cities he'd lived in could
compare. Los Angeles had introduced him to the Community, and Paris
had its own magic, but his travels had never taken him to a city
that shared New Orleans' energy.

Lately though, the city he loved felt off.
But he couldn't blame the Crescent City for his discontent. The
problem lay with him. Even before Julia showed up unexpectedly in
the bar, looking lost and misplaced, even before Eve was murdered,
Armand had begun to realize something was off in his life. The
events of the last week merely reinforced it.

Julia awakened a need that had been lacking
in his life. Eve's death reminded him of everything that was wrong
with the Community. Now, he had to figure out how to fix the broken
pieces.

Dripping, Armand stepped into the apartment.
Toweling off as best he could with the soaked towel, he paused at
the door to his bedroom. Curled up on the bed, Julia's soft, even
breathing was a soothing melody and filled the room with her
warmth. God, she looked beautiful, with her sleek brown hair fanned
out over the pillow, and her smooth, lightly tanned skin contrasted
against the black sheets.

"Don't just stand there," she murmured
unexpectedly. "Come to bed."

"I'm sweaty."

"I don't care." Pushing the covers off her
naked body, she held her arms open for him.

It was all the invitation he needed. Armand
slipped out of his wet pants and into her embrace, wrapping his
arms tightly around her. The moment she touched him, every last
trace of anger slid from his body. Every negative thought banished,
every tense muscle relaxed until only bliss remained.

She buried her face into his chest. "You
smell good," she said, the words muffled against his skin.

Kissing her forehead, Armand rested his chin
against her head, and closed his eyes. With Julia in his arms, it
seemed so clear. He'd made the Community his sole focus for too
long now. Julia's silky skin pressed against his, and the intense
emotions that touch evoked, reminded him that there was another
passion waiting for him.

It was by choice that he assumed such a
strong role within the group. There was an inherent dysfunction
within the Sang Community, but it was one Armand could never
completely solve. For years, he had spent a great amount of energy
educating and promoting safety and responsibility for blood
drinkers, but maybe it was time he accepted the issues facing the
Community were too large for him to fix. And if he wasn't happy, he
didn't have to continue. He could close the bar or merely step back
and let another, Slade perhaps, slide into his position. It didn't
have to be complicated at all.

He did owe the Community a great deal. He'd
found them during a dark time in his youth, and they'd welcomed him
with open arms, helping him through rough times and becoming like
family. For years, the Community had been his only family, and he
was forever grateful. He might find severing the ties impossible,
but there was no harm in weakening them a little.

Julia's breathing settled back into the slow,
steady rhythm of someone asleep, and he wondered if she'd truly
been awake at all.

* * *

Julia woke to the most delicious aroma of
cooking food and an empty, black bedroom. The only light filtering
into the dark room seeped through the crack under the closed door.
It took her a moment to remember where she was, and then another
moment to stifle the elation that tightened her chest once memories
from the night before danced through her head. Armand's silky black
sheets were a cool caress against her skin, and if it wasn't for
her growling stomach and the fact that Armand was out there and not
next to her, she might not have ventured out of bed.

After clumsily donning a plush gray robe
hanging on the back of the door, she stumbled out of the bedroom,
rubbing her eyes under the harsh glare of artificial lights. At
least the power was back on.

"That smells wonderful." Her voice was thick
with sleep.

Armand smiled when he saw her. He was
hovering over a skillet sizzling atop a gourmet stove. The kitchen
was an extension of the large, sleek living room, separated only by
a wide, granite topped island lined with barstools.

"I was hoping you'd wake up. Are you
hungry?"

"Starving." She fidgeted with the robe lapel.
"I hope you don't mind I borrowed your robe."

Abandoning the stove, he came to her. "I
can't say I'm not disappointed you didn't come out naked, but," he
slid one arm around her neck, "it looks damn good on you."