La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust (29 page)

Who was he kidding? Julia was a big girl and
fully capable of coming up with her own asshole ideas. It'd be nice
to blame someone else, but as much as he hated it, he had to accept
that Julia simply wasn't who he thought she was, and definitely not
for him in spite of the false connection he thought he'd felt, or
the amazing sex.

Still, imagining the blood trickling out of
Dave's nose after Armand clocked him gave him a small amount of
pleasure.

It was fleeting.

A tall, thin man dressed in a valet uniform
came in carrying a bundle of fabric and looking a little shell
shocked as his eyes darted around the bar and across
Luxure's
employees. Armand recognized the bundle as the
frock coat he'd loaned Julia Halloween night. His chest immediately
tightened, blood rushed to his head, and his pulse quickened.

"I'm supposed to deliver this." The valet
held up the coat tentatively.

With clenched fists, Armand crossed the room
to take it from him. "Yes, thank you," he said tersely, slipping
some money into the young man's hand.

"Thanks, sir. The lady tipped me pretty good
but man, she was so upset, I woulda done it for free."

Armand felt his face turn into a rock. "Your
service is appreciated. But you can get out now." The muscles in
his jaw were so tight, his mouth barely moved. With a steel grip he
clutched the coat, grateful that his fists had a distraction. This
poor kid didn't deserve Armand's anger just because he couldn't
keep his mouth shut.

Armand couldn't figure out why hearing about
Julia's misery should bother or anger him. She'd brought this on
herself. They could have been enjoying another amazing evening
together if she hadn't suddenly turned into someone else.

"Well, I can see why she's trying so hard to
get out of the city," the kid said, giving Armand a once over.

The fucker had balls, that was for sure. But
he wasn't a complete idiot. Before Armand had a chance to react,
the valet split, leaving Armand even more flustered and ready to
kill something.

So, Julia was so desperate to get as far away
from him that she was scrambling to put a couple hundred miles
between them. He repulsed her so much that she couldn't even stand
to be in the same city with him for one fucking night?

He shoved past employees trying to look busy
doing other things. Only Slade caught his eye as he stormed by.
"Dude."

Armand held his hand up, silencing the big
man before he could utter another word. "I said don't, and I
fucking mean it."

He couldn't take another minute. If he didn't
hit the weights or run off his fury, he was going to explode, or do
something stupid like sprint down to the Conti Royal and confront
her. Or worse, drive to the airport and make an ass of himself
confronting her there.

No thanks. She'd already made a fool out of
him once.

Chapter Twenty-One

The next several hours passed in numb blur.
Julia somehow managed to make her flight, feeling nothing as she
hustled from the ticket counter through security. Her heart didn't
even beat faster when she sprinted to the gate and handed the
flight attendant her ridiculously overpriced ticket.

The high pitched whine of the engines buzzing
right next to her ear didn't faze her, nor did the offensive smell
oozing from the bathroom behind her. When turbulence rocked the
tiny jet and sent the flight attendant scrambling for her feet, the
only emotion that gripped Julia was a secret longing for the plane
to crash so she could put all of this miserable business behind
her.

The temperature was unseasonably cold in St.
Louis, a frigid homecoming to match the temperature of her heart.
Her car reluctantly started, and Julia made the long trip home on
autopilot. She kept the radio turned up and her mind turned
down.

It was after midnight by the time she pulled
onto the quiet, frozen streets of Alton. They were not normally so
empty on a Friday night, but even the most dedicated Riverboat
partiers could be deterred by frigid temps. She was thankful not to
have to fight hordes of motorcycles for her parking space, and
climbed wearily up the back stairwell to her loft.

After dropping her bag unceremoniously on the
floor by the door, Julia trudged towards the couch. Bubbers was
overjoyed to see her. Purring loudly, he rubbed voraciously against
her legs until she bent and stroked his back. He immediately
flopped on his side, stretching and kneading sensuously at the
air.

Kicking her shoes off, Julia crawled onto the
couch, pulled the throw off the back and over her body, and clicked
on the TV. Perfect, a Simpsons marathon. That ought to help keep
her numb a little while longer.

Bubbers curled up next to her chest, his
unending purr like the constant hum of an overworked air
conditioner. Bumping his face continuously against her hand until
she finally conceded, he closed his eyes in pure pleasure as she
ran her fingers over his silky gray fur and scratched him on the
corner of his jaw where he loved it so much.

Oh, to be a cat and find contentment in
simple pleasures instead of fucking them up.

Only two more days and everything would be
back to normal, and she could put this whole New Orleans mess
behind her.

Back to normal. Julia sighed. Whatever that
was.

Planting herself on the couch for the night,
Julia left her plush cocoon only once, and that was to use the
restroom. Her butt quickly became a permanent indention in the red
Microsuede fabric. Bubbers was content to lie beside her for a long
time, his furry gray body an unbelievably efficient furnace, but
even he eventually got bored and wandered off.

She was able to fall asleep sometime after
two am, but her sleep was restless, and filled with images and
memories she was ready to forget. She woke up again barely an hour
later. A South Park episode and a few bad judge shows were
successfully able to push the memories from her brain, and she
eventually dozed off again just as the sun was peaking through the
blinds.

It wasn't until mid-morning on Saturday, when
Clare came crashing through the front door, that Julia roused from
the couch. Well, by roused, she actually sat up.

Standing in the doorway, her short,
multicolored hair clipped back with a couple sparkly barrettes,
Clare stared at her. "Are you okay?"

"Sure?"

Clare stepped into the living room. "Wow, you
look like shit." She sat on the armchair, the bold pattern printed
on it contrasting with her bright hair.

The chair and couch had come as a set. In
fact, all of Julia's living room furniture had been part of a
neatly laid out display in some generic department store. None of
it was original, and all of it lacked any true personality. Like
every other piece of bland, store bought decoration in her
apartment, she was beginning to see it as a metaphor for her
life.

"Thanks," Julia replied dryly. She was pretty
sure Clare was being kind. Julia knew she looked way worse than
shit.

"Why didn't you tell me you were home? And
why is your phone off?"

"Probably because I didn't want to talk to
anyone," Julia snapped.

"Tough shit. You can't blow me off for days,
disappear during some tropical storm, call me to tell me you hooked
up with the hottest guy in New Orleans only to freak out and then
not tell me what the fuck is going on. No. Your mouth better start
moving."

Tossing her throw blanket aside, Julia rose
roughly. Her legs hadn't moved in so long, the muscles felt like
jelly.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said.
"End of story."

She went to the kitchen and pulled a glass
out of the cabinet, filled it with water and drank it in one
endless gulp.

Clare followed her. "Too bad. I'm not leaving
'til your lips start moving."

Julia flicked a dirty look at Clare from the
corner of her eye, and then refilled the glass. She hadn't
appreciated how thirsty she was until the water touched her tongue
and realized she hadn't had any liquid since the airplane.

Julia returned to the living room, Clare at
her heels. "Okay, if you don't want to talk," Clare was saying,
"I'll start guessing."

"Whatever you have to do."

Clare sat cross-legged on the chair, and
rested her pierced chin on folded hands. She was unfazed by Julia's
scowl.

"So you hook up with Armand Laroque, which is
fucking awesome by the way, and then you freaked out over the
Internet shit. Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Clare ignored her. "Did he blow you off
yesterday or something? When I met him last year, I seriously threw
myself at him, as did a bunch of other chicks, and he very politely
declined. In fact, he was always a perfect gentleman when he
dismissed my advances. For a little while I thought he might be
gay, but he seemed pretty cozy with this hot blonde. She's a model
too, but she does more pin-up stuff."

Julia's throat closed up at the thought of
Armand with Angel. Jealousy was such a preposterous emotion at this
point, but she couldn't seem to help it.

"At any rate," Clare continued, "I'm sure he
pulls tons of tail, but he's a confirmed bachelor as far as I know.
Did you hook up with him and then he blew you off later or
something?"

"What part of me not wanting to talk about
this don't you get?"

"Oh, I get it. I just don't care. I never see
you this upset, especially over some guy you just met. What the
hell did he do to give you such horrendous bags under your
eyes?"

Julia sighed loudly. It was only a matter of
time before Clare's incessant questions broke her down. It wasn't
necessarily that she didn't want to discuss the messed up events
that brought her to this point, she was merely trying to avoid the
inevitable rush of blabbering that would follow. All she wanted to
do was forget everything and put it behind her.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Just tell me what the fuck happened and I'll
get off your case."

"Fine." Julia swallowed hard. She could
already feel the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes,
waiting for their cue. "No, he did not blow me off. He did kick me
out of his bar, but he didn't blow me off."

"Why'd he kick you out?"

"It's so stupid." Julia chewed on her lip.
She took a deep breath.
Here goes
. "I accused him of acting
like a vampire in order to seduce me."

"He does own a blood bar for Human
Vampires..."

"I know that now," Julia snapped, and then
sighed. "I had no idea what
Luxure
was when I went inside, I
really didn't. I thought it was simply a Goth bar. So when all this
crazy stuff started happening..." She caught Clare's gaze. "Really
crazy stuff, like this girl I saw at
Luxure
ended up dead,
and there was this fortune teller that told me I would turn evil,
and then I saw this picture of Armand in the museum from like, 100
years ago - "

"Really?"

Julia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's apparently
his grandfather." She shook her head at the memory. The resemblance
was uncanny, but it had been the eyes that captured her. She would
never forget the intensity of the Laroque gaze, not if she lived a
thousand years.

She pulled her hair back into a tight pony
tail and held it at the back of her head, clamping her forearms
against the sides of her face as if she could squeeze the memories
from her brain. It didn't work and she released the hair, and yet
another sigh, at the same time.

"It had taken me all week to convince myself
that Armand was a vampire and by then, I'd fallen so in love with
the fantasy that when I saw those pictures on the Internet and
realized the truth, I freaked out and confronted him about it."

Clare looked confused. "But before that,
everything was good?"

"Better than good. It was perfect." Julia
wiped at her eyes, and concentrated on getting air deep into her
lungs in a quiet, steady rhythm, hoping to keep the tears at bay.
It was futile, but she was grasping at anything to ward off the
pain for a few moments longer.

Clare looked even more confused. "Okay, let
me see if I understand this correctly. You hook up with him
thinking he's a vampire," thankfully, Clare didn't have a hint of
ridicule in her voice, "and it was this amazing experience, but
when you discovered he was human, you accused him of pretending to
be a vampire to seduce you?"

Hearing the synopsis of her week simplified
to a few meager sentences reminded Julia of what a fool she was.
She wanted to hold onto the anger, wanted to wrap it around her
like a blanket and wield it like a shield.

"It was more than that. I mean, sure it was
great and magical and all when we were together, but how can I
possibly think that was real when everything about him is
fake?"

"Julia, it isn't Armand's fault that you got
caught up in some fantasy."

Julia snorted. "Please. You expect me to
believe that seducing easy prey like me isn't part of his M.O.?
That he doesn't amp up the vampire act to 'pull some tail' as you
so eloquently put it?" Even as the words spouted from her mouth,
she knew in her heart it wasn't the truth. She wanted desperately
for them to be true, because if they were, if Armand was simply
some vampire wannabe player, she wouldn't have to admit she'd
screwed up.

"I don't know. Maybe? What difference would
it make anyway? It's just all part of the fantasy isn't it?"

"I don't want fantasy. That's what I was so
pissed about."

"I still don't know why. Call it what it was,
an amazing NOLA fling. It's not like you were expecting more."
Clare stared at her. "Were you?"

Julia bit her lip. She didn't have an
answer.

"Oh my God, you were!"