La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust (6 page)

No one did, and she was soon on the dark,
damp, quiet streets of New Orleans.

Julia decided to take Bourbon back to her
hotel. The debauchery was suddenly more inviting than the quiet
isolation of any of her other options.

Chapter Four

Wearily, Armand pulled his 1977 Jaguar XJ12
though the automatic gate and into his narrow drive. This business
with Eve was exhausting. Not only because of the danger women like
her posed to the Community, but dealing with the endless drama of
eager Victims took its toll.

He was always surprised how many there were.
They seemed to come in waves, their numbers surging with every
popular vampire movie or book that swept the nation.

It was frustrating but less surprising
knowing how many in the Community were happy to fulfill the
"victim" fantasies. It would be easier if he could just look the
other way, to let those with a death wish realize it, to simply
quit interfering. But turning a blind eye to the depravity was akin
to asking him to stop breathing. The guilt alone would kill
him.

Besides, the primary reason Armand had even
opened
Luxure
was to provide a safe blood source for those
who needed it, and a safe outlet for those that desired to donate
it. When he'd first been introduced to the Sang Community in LA,
still reeling from the death of his parents and rebelling against
years of being stifled in a Debutante society, he'd found a kinship
with the LA Community he'd never experienced within traditional
society. But barely a year and a half-dozen tattoos after moving to
California, he began to understand how twisted the Community could
be. When a close friend died after a night of heavy drug use and
indiscriminant blood sharing at one of the frequent blood parties,
he knew there had to be a better way.

Luxure
was born shortly after
that.

Instead of heading back to the bar, he
considered retiring to the privacy of his living room and
disappearing into a mind-numbing movie. But remembering what he'd
left behind when he'd taken Eve to the hospital made him skip the
narrow steps to his 2nd story apartment and slip into the back door
of
Luxure
instead.

Julia.

What a breath of fresh air she'd been, so
different than the women he encountered on a daily basis. He loved
the Community, it was a part of him and he belonged to it, but
there were a lot of fucked up people associated with it. It was
nice to meet someone
normal
for a change.

But not too normal.

Scanning the dark room, he was disappointed
when she wasn't there. He glanced at Slade, his bartender for over
10 years. "Did Julia leave?"

Slade gave him an icy look. "Not long after
you."

"I see."

The big man set the glass he was rinsing out
on the bar with a thud. "It's a bad idea," he growled.

"What is?"

"Little Miss Vanilla."

"Julia." Armand corrected.

"Whatever. It's a bad idea."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Give it up, man. I saw the way you were
looking at her. I haven't seen you look at a woman that way in
years."

"I suppose I don't see the problem."

"She's dangerous," Slade said.

"Hardly."

"You can't just bring outsiders in here. A
lot of shit went down tonight. I'm sure some of it freaked Miss
Vanilla out. You don't want her blabbing her mouth."

"This isn't a private club, it's a public
bar," Armand reminded him. "There are no
outsiders
."

"Well you know my feelings on that." Slade
had been arguing to make
La Luxure
a private club for years.
Armand saw his logic, but he didn't want to ostracize newcomers to
the Community, or Donors (as long as they weren't Victims) for that
matter. It was important to keep out the undesirables, but with
Slade and he tending the bar every night, it usually wasn't a
problem.

"I think you're making too much of this,"
Armand told him. "With Victims like Eve passing out from blood
loss, Julia should be the least of your concern."

Slade snorted and roughly started washing
another glass. He barely made two swipes with the rag before
tossing the glass back into the soapy water. "What the fuck do you
see in her anyway?"

Armand sighed. It wasn't necessary to explain
himself, but Slade was not only one of his closest friends, he was
arguably the most tenacious. It wasn't like the big man was going
to let it go anytime soon. "She's attractive?"

"Not half as pretty as most the sexpots that
usually throw themselves at you."

Armand shrugged. "I don't know. There was
something about her."

"Yeah, she actually shops at the mall."

"It was more than that, asshole." How did he
explain to Slade how refreshing it was to talk to someone outside
of their sordid little Community? "She was smart, funny..." He
struggled to find the right words. "And she smelled different.
Clean." Unfortunately, the ones he chose came out sounding like a
bunch of bad clichés. Armand usually chose his words carefully.
Even if there was less of a necessity to put on a show with Slade,
he didn't like sounding like a badly scripted romantic comedy.

"So, what? You think you can turn her? Bring
her over to the dark side?"

Now it was Armand's turn to be angry. "It's
nothing like that. Look, it's not like I'm going to stalk her while
she's in New Orleans. She's only here for a week, so there's a good
chance I'll never see her again." Slade's grin at the statement
only added to Armand's irritation. "But I would like to," he
continued. "If she's comes back in here, I expect you to be
nice."

"Whatever, boss."

Armand glanced around the bar. At the moment
it was practically empty, but there'd be another surge at midnight.
"I'm going for a walk," he told the other man. "Call me if anything
comes up."

"Sure."

He needed to clear his head and a walk along
the river had a way of calming his thoughts.

Slade was right about Julia in one context.
It had been a long time since Armand had been interested in a
woman. Oh, he fucked enough of them, but that was the extent of his
interaction with the fairer sex. And he certainly hadn't felt half
the connection with any of them during those scattered encounters
between the sheets that he had with Julia in the 15 minutes he'd
talked to her.

He needed to see her again. It'd be easy
enough to find her, but it would be better if she came to him.

* * *

Eve woke up just as Armand was pulling his
Jag into the circle drive at Tulane's emergency room. Her lids were
heavy, so she didn't bother to open them. The swaying of the car
was like a gentle lullaby, and she wanted to protest when it
suddenly jerked to a stop. It felt so good to rest.

The car door opened and strong arms lifted
her out of the plush seat. The spicy scent that filled her nostrils
told her the arms belonged to Armand. Sexy, unobtainable Armand. It
was a shame he wouldn't help her, but he was obviously too
good
to drink off her. As far as she knew, few were good
enough for him.

If only he would. She was so...full.

The whoosh of automatic doors hissed in her
ears, followed by beeps, hums, coughing, and the low murmur of many
people talking.

Armand set her down in a hard chair. "This
woman needs blood." She heard him tell someone.

"What happened to her?"

"I'm just the courier," he said.

"Wait, sir. What's her name? What's your
name?" Faintly, Eve heard the whoosh of the automatic doors again
and she knew Armand had left. It was just as well; she was getting
the hell out of here as soon as she could.

A cool hand patted her arm. "Miss? Miss, can
you hear me?"

With great effort, Eve opened her eyes. As
she'd suspected, that fucker had brought her to a hospital. "Yeah,
I can hear you." She glanced at the plump woman starring down at
her. "Help me up, please."

"Let me get you a wheel-chair."

"I don't need one," Eve snapped. The woman
didn't budge. "Whatever. I'll do it myself."

This night couldn't get any worse. First,
Armand's rejection at
Luxure
, then she's brought to this
germ-infested hellhole, and now, this stupid sow wouldn't give her
a hand.

And to top it off, her skin felt like it was
crawling as excess blood pooled and squirmed in her veins. She had
to get out of here. Now.

It was laborious and it certainly wasn't
graceful, but Eve managed to heave herself out of the rock-hard
chair.

"Shawna, the labs are back from your patient
in 20. You wanna take a look at them?"

While the nurse was briefly distracted, Eve
made it across the bustling waiting room. She'd almost completed
her escape when the nurse cried, "Miss, wait!"

As luck would have it, a crash cart rushed by
just as Eve was stumbling through the emergency room doors. "Car
accident," the EMS worker was saying, "male, early 20's-"

The glass doors whooshed closed behind her.
No one followed her out. It appeared the plump nurse was held up in
the confusion.

Eve staggered through the dimly lit downtown
streets. If she could get back to the Quarter, she could find
someone to help her. All this blood was making her body heavy.

She tried hailing a cab a couple of times,
but her lead filled arms were always too slow to respond quickly
enough when one passed. So she continued her journey on unsteady
legs. No one paid any attention to her as she tottered along,
confusing her with the multitude of drunks stumbling about.

Finally, she crossed the chaos of Canal St.
and emerged, relieved, on a dark, quiet street. She'd barely
traveled 100ft when she saw her salvation.

"Darus," she breathed. A single oil lantern
barely illuminated the sidewalk where he stood, and her vision was
blurred for some reason, but the long dreads and top hat gave his
identity away.

He eyed her curiously as she lurched towards
him. Those last feet were the most exhausting steps she'd ever
traveled. He needed to take from her now, before it was too
late.

She clutched at his velvet coat. "Darus,
please, you have to drink from me. I'm so full I can't stand
it."

He cocked his head. "We can go back to my
place..."

"No. Here. Now. Just bite me! I can't take it
any longer. My skin feels like it's going to burst."

Darus studied her for a moment, then scanned
the dark street in both directions before pulling her out of the
light and onto a shadowy stoop. As soon as his sharp teeth sank
into her flesh, Eve let out a blissful moan and then everything
went dark.

* * *

Julia's dreams that night were filled with
dark, morbid thoughts that had nothing to do with airplanes or
elevators. Instead, vampires danced through her dreams. They
weren't the tattered soul, redemption seeking type that only
feasted on wild animals or bought blood from a bank. No, these were
the vampires that stalked their victims down the dark streets of
New Orleans to drink them dry. The kind that lured their victims in
with sexual prowess only to feast on their fluids until nothing but
a withered corpse remained.

They certainly weren't the sexy blood
drinkers in her books.

Well...

The most vivid and last dream she had took
place at
Luxure
. The low ceiling and painted black walls
were oppressive as the pulsing bass vibrated through her spine.
Julia was on the dance floor, her body a supple, writhing form
sandwiched between other undulating bodies. Her red silk dress slid
across her skin like a lover's embrace, caressing her thighs with
every sway of her hips.

The music pulsed stronger, becoming harder,
more intense. Behind her, strobe lights flickered, breaking up
every movement in the bar into broken, confusing images. A door
opened slowly and Armand emerged from the hidden room, a limp form
with tattered red hair cradled in his arms. Pin-up girl was pressed
against his side, her perfect curves molded to every void in his
muscular body.

Armand's gaze flickered across Julia. He
grinned, flashing his perfect white teeth in a menacing smile. The
music surged and he dove for the limp girl's neck, his teeth
sinking into her flesh like a hot knife through butter. His victim
gasped, arching her back in what looked like ecstasy as Armand took
long, hard draws from her flesh. Pin-up girl moaned in approval,
grinding into him and running her hands over his chest and down his
arms.

Finally, the woman's body stilled and Armand
lifted his head from her neck, blood trickling over his full lips
and onto his strong chin. His eyes snapped open and locked on Julia
from beneath his dark brow. He released the woman, her colorless
body falling into a motionless heap at his feet.

Stepping over the body, he came for Julia.
His eyes were locked on her and he wore a mischievous, blood
smeared grin. Even though her mind told her she should be scared,
that she needed to run, her body refused to obey. She was unable to
stop dancing, the music commanding her, driving her. Even as Armand
stalked nearer, her body merely heaved harder. She wanted to be
frightened. She wanted to scream in terror, but his intense hazel
gaze refused to let those emotions in.

In perfect rhythm, Armand matched the sway of
her body, pressing his hips into hers. Any fear was immediately
turned into a stabbing heat that started at the spot where his
erection was pushed against her and quickly spread through her
body.

He grabbed her face and pulled her in for a
searing kiss that tasted sweet and metallic. The kiss lasted long
enough to rob Julia of her breath, and then, using her hair, he
yanked her head back, exposing her neck.