La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust (28 page)

"I see," he said quietly as he slowly rose
from the table. "So my life is somehow less real than yours?"

"You have a fake name!"

"No." The word came out painfully slow.
"Armand is my middle name. William Armand Laroque. I am named after
my grandfather. I'm told there's a striking resemblance."

"The picture in the museum," she groaned. Was
she really this gullible? Obviously, if she wanted to believe
something badly enough she was. So much for being a smart, logical
engineer.

"Part of a collection I donated when my
parents died," he said quietly. "Tell me, Julia, what difference
would it make if Armand was a pseudonym? What if my real name was
actually Jack, or John, or Billy?"

She didn't have an answer to that. "I just
want something real."

"You keep tossing out words like 'real' and
'fake'. I run a legitimate business based on an alternative
lifestyle. There might be a little more...
pretense
in what I
do, but I started this business because of my interest in this
community, and a desire to provide a safe environment for those
involved. This is who I am. Perhaps a bit embellished at times, but
really, I don't see any difference between this," he tugged gently
at the tailored waistcoat, "and Joe Football who likes to wear a
Saints jersey." He leaned close to her and her treasonous heart did
a little pitter-patter of excitement. "Except maybe when you're
fucking Joe Football, you never get confused and think you're
actually fucking a Saints player."

It was all she could do to force anger to
replace the attraction. "So you are just playing a role."

"No more than you are. The conservative City
Engineer, with your trendy jeans and sensible pumps, living a
vanilla life. That's not the woman I had in my bed last night, the
woman who eagerly took my blood and orgasm'd while doing it." Julia
felt her cheeks flush and her core moisten at the memory. "We all
assume roles in our lives, Julia. Some are more traditional than
others, and some are more fun."

His words made her blood boil, and that final
burst of anger helped sharpen her thoughts. She was not an idiot,
nor was she completely at fault here.

"Must be a nice challenge for you," she said
snidely. "Seduce the naïve tourist and expand her narrow little
world, give her some great memories to take back to her
vanilla
life. I especially like the line in front on my
hotel the other night, where you were afraid of 'losing control'.
It really added to the whole danger aspect." Julia rolled her eyes.
"I bet you love the power, love being able to kink up a normal
girl. How many other women have you lured into your twisted web?
"

Armand gave a disgusted, mirthless chuckle.
"You've completely misjudged me. I'm pretty selective about who I
fuck. I'm even more selective about who I drink from and who I let
drink from me. It's a hell of a lot easier to slap on a condom and
much less intimate. But then, I thought you understood that." He
shook his head. "I guess I'm not the only one who was misjudged.
You're obviously not who I thought you were either." He opened the
door for her. "Have a safe flight home, Julia."

His dismissal slapped her sharply across the
face. Swallowing against the tears stinging her eyes, she set her
jaw, pushing past him and out of the bar as quickly as her legs
would carry her. She'd barely made it out of the front courtyard
when her defenses gave out and tears sprang from her eyes like
escaping prisoners.

* * *

In disgusted shock, Armand stared at the open
door Julia had just stormed out of.

What the fuck just happened?

As of this afternoon, everything had been
going so well. No, not just well, perfect. Less than three measly
hours had passed since she'd left his apartment, what could have
possibly changed in that short amount of time?

Closing his eyes, Armand fell against the
wall. He didn't want to believe it, didn't want to accept it. It
couldn't be over. It had just begun. All the potential, the promise
of bliss, the intense way she stirred him...gone, just like that.
His chest felt heavy and empty at the same time, and ached like
he'd broken a few ribs. What had started off as one of the most
enjoyable days of his life had turned to shit in two
heartbeats.

Maybe he'd kicked her out prematurely. The
argument had escalated so fast, he was tempted to chase after her
and demand more of an explanation. Maybe he could argue with her
until she turned back into the woman he'd had in his bed.

Her accusations rang in his ears, and pride
kept his feet planted.

He was not some blood drinking freak seducing
innocent vampire groupies into his bed as she charged. The feelings
he'd had for her were real, or so he thought.

Obviously, everything that passed between
them had been nothing more than misguided lust. It wasn't often
that he was such a horrible judge of character, but he'd fucking
missed the boat on this one.

Building deep in his gut, he could feel the
fury rising. He welcomed it, savored it. Any emotion was better
than the hollowness she'd left him with.

Slade's head popped in the doorway.
"Everything okay in here? Your vanilla princess nearly shook down
the walls when she stormed out."

"Don't fucking start with me," Armand
snapped, shoving past the bartender as he leaned on the doorjamb.
"Get back to work. All of you," he barked at his employees. "Show's
fucking over. We have work to do."

It was going to be a long night. If he was
going to survive it, he needed to keep busy. If he didn't contain
the rage that was quickly consuming him, he was going to be in a
dangerous state. Anyone who happened to cross him tonight was
likely to lose their head, or balls, or both. A large piece of him
hoped some drunk, dumbshit wandered off Bourbon and into his bar so
he had an excuse to kick some ass.

Chapter Twenty

By the time Julia fell onto Royal, her tears
were falling so hard she was choking on them. Gasping for breath
and clutching her stomach, she forced her legs to move as quickly
as her lead-filled shoes would allow.

At times she didn't think she would make it
back to the hotel. The tears were attempting to strangle her, and
the pain in her stomach was so severe, she wanted to curl up on the
sidewalk and cry herself into a puddle of numbness.

In order to get air into her lungs, she was
forced stop several times. Falling back away from the hordes of
tourists crowding the street, she huddled under whatever shelter
presented itself, and strained to regain control. Minutes would
pass before she could move again. People stared but she didn't
care. There was no room in her for embarrassment. All she could
feel was the pain.

There was no logic to her misery, and
somewhere deep inside her shredded insides she knew it. She'd
confronted him. She'd come to him accusing and angry. She shouldn't
be so hurt and devastated by his rejection. She didn't even know
what she expected or wanted from him. But when he kicked her out of
Luxure
and out of his future, he might as well have stabbed
her it hurt so much.

Somehow, she managed to make it back to the
Conti Royal. She'd cried so much on the hurried walk from
Luxure
that she'd exhausted her tear supply, leaving her
empty and emotionally spent, with red, stinging, puffy eyes, a
massive headache, and a hollow ache in her gut. She entered the
lobby a numb shell, proceeded straight to the stairwell, and
plodded heavily up the stairs.

Her room was coldly comforting, a welcome
reprieve from any memories associated with Armand. She was thankful
he'd never actually made it up here or she'd have nowhere to
escape. Her flight didn't leave until 10:30 tomorrow morning.

After carefully picking up her computer from
where it sat overturned on the bed, Julia quickly closed the cover.
The last thing she wanted to see was the scandalous image of
Armand. She scooped to retrieve the discarded case and accidentally
grabbed something soft and silky instead.

She stared at the luxurious fabric resting in
her hands, realizing in dismay that it was the 18th century frock
coat she'd borrowed from Armand on Halloween. The numb shell she'd
encased herself in was abruptly washed away by the tsunami of
emotion that crashed through her. She fell back on the bed in a
heap, her empty tear ducts springing to life.

She felt so stupid. Vampires. What kind of
idiot believed in vampires? How could she have let herself be so
easily duped? Was she so desperate to find a man who excited her
that she was willing to believe anything? Even vampires?

Julia buried her face in the soft fabric,
Armand's spicy scent filling her nostrils. It sucked that he
smelled so damn good, sucked that the only man that had managed to
make her feel anything in the 29 years she'd been alive was some
perverted, vampire wannabe.

Disgusted, she tossed the coat aside. None of
it was real. Not the way she thought she felt, or the way she had
imagined Armand felt. It couldn't possibly be real. The Armand
she'd fallen for was nothing more than a fantasy.

She finished packing in a hurry, shoving the
few remaining things she hadn't packed earlier into her suitcase.
She had to get out of New Orleans and she had to get out now.

After giving the room a quick once over to
make sure she hadn't left anything, Julia grabbed her suitcase, and
as an afterthought, Armand's coat. She might be hurt, infuriated
and humiliated, but she could at least try to get his coat back to
him.

Julia knew she looked like a wreck. The look
the concierge gave her merely confirmed it. "May I help you?" the
woman asked.

Julia flopped the coat on the counter. "I
need to check out, and see about mailing this." She gave the coat a
sidelong glance.

"Are you leaving?"

"I hope so," Julia said, her voice wavering.
"I also need a cab to the airport."

"The airport? Do you have a flight?" The
concierge's face was a mixture of concern and confusion.

Julia dropped her eyes to the counter. "I'm,
um, I need to catch one." She was trying hard to keep any stray
tears at bay. Excessive swallowing seemed to help.

"Well, let's see what we can find. I wouldn't
get your hopes up too much." The knot in Julia's stomach tightened.
She had to leave tonight. There was no way she could stay in this
city any longer. Not with him so close. "Where are you
heading?"

"St. Louis."

"Let me check." The clerk clicked feverishly
on the keyboard, her long, bright pink fingernails clacking at a
record pace. "So, where do we need to send the coat?" she asked,
still typing away.

"I don't know the exact address. The place is
a bar called - " Julia swallowed. This was harder than she thought.
Just saying the name made her throat tighten up. "
La Luxure de
Sang
on St. Philip."

"Here in the Quarter?" Julia nodded. "Do you
have the recipient's name?"

"Armand," she replied, her voice quivering.
Quickly, she wiped at the tears that tried to escape. "Um,
Laroque."

"I know the name, and I think I've heard of
the bar. Between Royal and Chartres?" Julia nodded again. Suddenly,
even without her map, she could picture the streets perfectly.
"I'll send one of the valets there. Andrew!"

"It's about a ten minute walk."

"He'll be okay." With warm, gentle fingers,
the concierge touched Julia's arm. "It might make your evening a
little less stressful."

The gesture made her tear up. Swallowing
against the lump in her throat, Julia quickly wiped her eyes.
"Thanks."

"Of course darlin'." The concierge handed
Armand's coat to the valet. "Run this over to St. Philip, 'tween
Royal and Chartres, to a place called
La Luxure
. It's small,
so you'll have to look hard."

"I think I've seen it."

Julia handed him a 20. "Thank you. I really
appreciate it."

The valet pocketed the bill. "No
problem."

Julia watched the young man hustle out the
door and then turned back to the concierge. "Were you able to find
a flight?"

"It looks like there is a flight at 9:15 with
a couple of seats left. If you hurry, we might be able to get you
there in time." She picked up the phone. "Do you want me to call a
cab?"

"God, yes. Please."

* * *

The evening was not progressing well for
Armand. Slinging beer boxes into the cooler only offered a
momentary distraction that didn't last long enough. Fueled by
Armand's agitated state, the shipment was unloaded in record
time.

The tension in the bar was so thick it was
unbearable. No one spoke. There wasn't a smile to be seen, and
everyone, Slade included, avoided making eye contact with
Armand.

Armand needed to work, needed something to
keep his mind off the afternoon, but he knew his mood wasn't good
for business. If he didn't stay at the bar though, if he went out
like this, he'd probably get arrested and someone would end up in
the hospital.

Oh, but how good would it feel to run into
that prick Dave and kick his ass. Armand had a pretty good idea
where to find him. There were a few bars on Bourbon that Dave's
type liked to frequent. It would only be a matter of time and
systematic elimination before Armand tracked him down.

He wasn't sure why hurting that asshole
sounded like such a good time. It wasn't like Dave had anything to
do with Julia's personality shift. Armand knew he was merely
projecting his anger, shifting it from Julia to Dave. But that
prick represented all the fucked up thoughts that had spewed from
Julia. Hell, maybe she'd even run into him after she'd left this
afternoon. Maybe he'd planted those bullshit ideas into her easily
brainwashed skull.