La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust (8 page)

With the lipstick, she started drawing the
X's. On the second one, she pressed just a little too hard and her
lipstick line became a huge, pink lipstick blob. Shit. If the X's
weren't drawn correctly, would the request be denied? Or worse,
would it piss off the Voodoo Queen enough that she made sure the
opposite came true?

Julia wasn't about to tempt fate. Carefully,
she tried to draw out the blob into a line, first with the lid to
the lipstick container and then when that failed, resorted to her
finger. When she'd finally made a satisfactory attempt, she very
carefully drew the last X and stepped back to observe her work.

Well, they weren't perfect X's, but they were
recognizable at least.

"You do realize that's illegal," a deep voice
purred in her ear.

Julia's heart and stomach exchanged places.
She spun around startled, knowing exactly who she'd find. A hundred
years wouldn't erase the memory of that voice.

Armand was grinning at her, his long, sharp
canines gleaming brightly in the gloomy light. He was even paler
than she remembered, and better looking. Wearing a tall crowned,
black suede hat, and tailored, knee length military coat with the
collar flipped up, his dark hair brushed his broad shoulders in
soft curls, and his hazel eyes were fixated on her with that
unnerving intensity.

Oh God, she was alone, in the most
frightening place on earth, with this dangerous, gorgeous stranger.
She'd wanted to see him again, but not here, not like this.

Why was he even here? Had he followed her?
Maybe her attraction to him was clouding her judgment and he wasn't
as innocent as she imagined. She should've gone to the police while
she had the chance.

"Did I frighten you?" His tone was
amused.

That was the understatement of the
century.

But there was nothing threatening about his
body language, nothing overtly suspicious about the way he stood
nonchalantly before her, his hands shoved casually into the pockets
of his black wool coat. In fact, he appeared genuinely pleased to
see her.

She had to make a quick decision. Either she
give into her neurotic fears and run for her life, or give him the
benefit of the doubt and treat him like any other man she'd met and
didn't believe might be a serial killer vampire.

She laughed nervously as her decision was
hastily made. "A little." Running probably wouldn't help anyway. He
looked fast.

He chuckled. "Well, I apologize. You were
lost in thought and entirely too easy to sneak up on."

Her thumping heart pressed painfully against
her eardrums.
Treat him like a normal guy. Don't show fear.
Stand tall. Be strong.

She swallowed hard and attempted to appear as
cool and relaxed as he was. It was like meeting a Grizzly bear on a
wooded trail and saying 'what's up?' instead of screaming.

"
What are you doing here?" she asked,
trying unsuccessfully to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

"Like you, I came to ask Marie for a favor.
But..." his eyes swept over her, "it's already been granted."

She felt a blush creep into her cheeks. He
meant her. "Oh."

How was it possible to be scared of him and
attracted to him at the same time?

"Instead of defacing a historical tomb," he
grinned at her, "why don't we properly make your request? What was
the favor you sought?"

Treat him like any other guy. Treat him like
any other guy.

Oh, and breathe.

Following the advice scrolling through her
brain, she took a few calming breaths. She'd been arguing his
innocence all day and here she was freaking out because he happened
to show up at the same place she was. "Um, I asked to survive my
flight home," she told him after a thick swallow reopened her
throat.

"Alright." He stepped past her with that
graceful slink of his. He even smelled delicious, a mixture of
spice and something earthy she couldn't quite place.

Knocking three times on the tomb with crisp,
deliberate blows, he drawled, "Marie Laveau, most powerful and
generous Voodoo Queen, please make sure the beautiful Julia has a
safe flight home." Pulling out a small bottle of Grand Marnier from
his coat pocket, he handed the unopened bottle to her and indicated
she take a drink.

With uncertain hands she cracked the plastic
seal and took a small sip. She wasn't normally a Cognac fan, but
this was good, smooth and sweet, with a slight hint of orange. She
handed the bottle back to Armand. He placed it with the other items
in front of the tomb, and then pulled out three coins and set them
on the bottle.

Letting her curiosity overpower her fear, she
asked, "So, the three knocks, X's and coins, do they really
represent the Holy Trinity?" She watched his reaction carefully,
wondering if he would respond to the mention of the Church.

Why, because he was an undead, unholy
vampire?

Of all the stupid-

"That's an interesting theory," Armand
replied, his smooth voice slicing through the clatter in her brain.
"Three is a strong number in Voodoo because of the power it brings
to an incantation, but I've never really stopped to think why three
in particular. I suppose it could represent the Trinity." He
certainly didn't appear to be bothered by the topic of religion,
and she felt silly for thinking it in the first place.

This was good. This was fine. They were
simply having a normal, perfectly innocent conversation in the
middle of a crumbling cemetery.

"New Orleans Voodoo and Catholicism
are
strongly linked," he continued. "And Marie Laveau was a
devout Catholic."

"Really?"

Armand gave her a sly smile. "Oh, you'd be
surprised how many dabblers in the darker arts are Catholic. I am,
after all. I may no longer take Communion and it's been ages since
I attended Mass, but I am Confirmed and according to the Church,
that's supposed to last a lifetime. Of course," he went on, tossing
a wink at her. "If I ever make it to confession again, the poor
priest is going to be there all night. I might have to bring him an
espresso."

She laughed. "I'm not Catholic in the least,
but I imagine my confession wouldn't be much shorter."

He leveled his hazel gaze on her. "I'd love
to hear all about what dark secrets you need to confess."

For a long moment she was trapped by his
stare, while crows sang their sweet tune overhead, and the misty
breeze kissed her skin. Like their encounter at
La Luxure
the previous night, it was too much and Julia had to look away.

Clearing her throat, and hopefully her head,
she asked, "What do the X's represent?"

"From what I've read, the X is an African
symbol representing the junction between life and death, but...it's
also how Marie Laveau signed her name. So, by marking the X's on
the tomb, or preferable,
knocking
," giving her a sidelong
glance, he emphasized the word heavily, "you are calling to the
dead in a language she can recognize."

"It was just lipstick."

"I think I can forgive you this one sin."

"Well, isn't that kind of you."

With the smooth, easy flow of conversation
and flirtatious banter, Julia forgot to be scared of him. If the
encounter wasn't so weird, it would feel perfectly normal.

The sun suddenly broke through the clouds on
its decent below the horizon and Armand winced, turning his face
away from the light. He adjusted his position until he stood in the
tomb's shadow.

Add "aversion to sun" to the list of his
suspicious behaviors.

The fear rushed back, sending her heart into
a flurry of activity and her brain into cartwheels. She was so
confused. Every nerve in her body was giving her conflicting
messages.

"It looks like our daylight hours are
limited, and this isn't the best neighborhood to be in after dark,"
he said. "Let me walk you back."

At this point, she wasn't sure if walking
alone with him was a safe alternative to being alone in a not so
great neighborhood. She glanced around, looking for an escape.
Maybe when there were more people around she'd be happy to continue
their conversation, but there were too many unanswered questions
for her to feel safe strolling alone with him down the narrow,
dark, French Quarter streets.

"Um, no, don't worry about it." She took a
step away. "I'm fine. My hotel isn't too far from here." She took
another step. "I mean, I grew up in St. Louis, and it consistently
makes the top 10 most dangerous cities list. I should be fine." Her
nerves were making her ramble.

"I insist," he said firmly. A subtle darkness
had washed over his features. He must've picked up on her
hesitation and wasn't pleased about it. The last thing she wanted
to do was piss him off. You don't poke a Grizzly bear with a stick
and you don't piss off a man of questionable intent. "I couldn't
live with myself if something happened to you."

It was an odd statement, the content of which
could imply a million things. He did seem genuinely concerned, but
he'd appeared concerned about Eve the night before and now she was
dead. Then again, if he'd wanted to hurt her, he'd already had
ample opportunities. They'd been alone in an isolated cemetery for
a while now.

Was there something else walking the streets
of New Orleans she should worry about? Besides Armand? Besides the
drunks?

This raging battle of "am I scared or not"
that was going on in her tired brain was giving her a massive
headache.

She forced air into her lungs. It was all
about giving him the benefit of the doubt. She'd decided that
already. "Alright then. Thanks, Armand. I do appreciate it."

His expression softened and he motioned for
her to lead the way.

"What hotel are you staying at?" he asked as
they emerged from the walled cemetery.

That definitely wasn't information she was
comfortable sharing. "It's near Bourbon and Conti."

His strong exhale sounded suspiciously like a
sigh. "Very well."

He led her across the busy street and into
the quiet of the French Quarter without saying another word. There
was tension oozing from his erect body and his jaw was clinched so
tight the muscles were twitching. She really didn't want to make
him angry, and not just because she was afraid of his
wrath
.
So far, he'd been nothing but gentlemanly. If she wasn't ready to
turn him into the police because she thought he might be innocent,
she needed to quit treating him like a serial killer.

"So do you visit the cemetery often?" she
asked in an attempt to soothe the situation.

There was a substantial pause before he
replied. "I used to. It has a tattered beauty I find soothing."

Tattered beauty was the perfect descriptor.
It was refreshing to have her opinion of the cemetery echoed. Jeff
would have hated the place.

She took another deep breath. He wasn't
trying to attack her or eat her or anything. They could have a
normal conversation. How else was she going to determine what to
tell the police? "But not anymore?"

"The trash gets to me. No matter how
thoroughly the grounds are cleaned, the trash always finds its way
back."

"I've never understood why it's such a burden
for some people to carry their trash with them until they can
properly dispose of it," she agreed. "Cigarette butts are the most
annoying. Just because they're small doesn't mean they disappear
into the ground. Besides, it's not like they weigh a lot. Pack it
in, pack it out." Once again, she was rambling and talking entirely
too fast.

He glanced at her for the first time since
they'd left the cemetery. "Absolutely." At least, he no longer
seemed as irritated and some of the tension had eased from his
body. "How is your seminar going?" he wondered.

"Pretty well. It can be a little tedious at
times."

"That's too bad. It sounded interesting."

He was being polite. There was no way utility
management, even disaster utility management, would be interesting
to a man like Armand.

"I don't think it's the seminar's fault. I'm
just having a hard time concentrating."

"Why is that?"

Because crazy fortune tellers, vampires,
blood drained dead girls, sexy Goth bars with even sexier patrons
made it hard to pay attention to some monotone guy in a plaid
button up shirt talk about water mains exploding and taking out
highways.

"This city is distracting me," Julia said
instead.

"She has a way of doing that."

His sharp tooth grin, sly wink and decadent
drawl made her heart race for two distinct reasons.

No kidding.

As they walked deeper into the Quarter and
the population increased, Julia slowly relaxed. If Armand truly was
dangerous, and she was pretty sure he wasn't, it was unlikely he
would attack her in a crowd full of people. Or so she hoped.

But she had to ask the question that had been
plaguing her all afternoon. There were plenty of places to flee and
people to help...

"So, what happened with that woman who passed
out in your bar?" she asked quickly, before she had a chance to
change her mind. Watching his reaction carefully, she prepped her
muscles to run.

"Eve? I dropped her off at Tulane."

"The university?"

Armand smile was barely perceptible. "No, the
hospital. Specifically, the emergency room."

Julia actually felt the tension slide from
her body and drip onto the dirty street. "Oh," she breathed. So,
her instincts had been correct after all. Well, except for the part
where she'd wanted to run screaming from the cemetery when he snuck
up on her.

The smile dropped from his lips. "It's a
shame. It should never come to that."

She looked at him with fresh eyes, startled
by how drawn she was to him. "It is a shame."