La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust (9 page)

A neon sign blinking directly behind Armand's
head suddenly caught her eye. "Oysters," she blurted.

Armand paused, glancing at the café behind
him. "Would you like some oysters?"

"Oh, um, no. I'd just gone looking for
oysters the other night, but the place I went to was packed so I
didn't. I mean, I'd like some but I'm fine right now." It was more
than a little frustrating the way words tumbled recklessly out of
her mouth whenever Armand made her nervous, especially since his
always seemed so carefully chosen.

He pulled open the door. "I'm not the kind of
man to deny a woman her oysters."

"Um," she hesitated, unsure what to do. Ten
minutes ago she was arguing whether or not Armand was a murderer
and now she was contemplating having dinner with him.

Feeling the corner of her lips curl up in a
smile, she couldn't believe what she was about to do. It was
completely unlike her. But she wanted adventure, and this was
territory far, far away from her comfort zone

"Are you hungry?" Julia asked as she eased
past him into the café.

He leaned forward. "I'm always hungry," he
said directly into her ear.

Her body temperature jumped up at least ten
degrees and most of it radiated from between her legs. Clare was
right. It had been way too long since Julia was intimate with a man
if a few sexily spoken words from one she'd just met, and knew very
little about, made her light up.

"Do you want to get a table...?"

"Why don't we stand at the bar," he
suggested. "It'll be more of a New Orleans experience that
way."

They stepped up to the cool, stone counter
next to a couple of 20-something men with Bloody Mary's and a dozen
half-shell oysters spread out on the granite before them. The
server cracked shells and tossed them onto the bar almost as
quickly as the men sucked them down.

"What can I get you miss?" he asked, still
rapidly shucking oysters, his knife never missing a beat.

"May I have a half-dozen, and a water?"

"And you sir?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

Julia turned to Armand. "I thought you were
hungry."

"Unfortunately, there's nothing on this menu
I can eat."

Okay, how much evidence did she need? Was it
possible? The thought was so preposterous, but the clues were all
there. Could Armand really be -?

"Julia!" Her own name crashed through her
thoughts like a raging bull. Annoyed at the interruption, she
turned to greet a beaming Dave.

"Oh. Hey Dave."

"We're going to grab a drink." He gestured
out the door towards one of the many bars on Bourbon St. "Do you
want to join us?"

No, she did not want to join him. Things were
way too interesting here. "Um..." She glanced at Armand, trying to
figure out how to politely turn Dave down and introduce her
neighbor at the same time.

Armand's face was dark and unreadable, but he
must have misinterpreted her glance because he said, quite
formally, "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Julia. But I'm
afraid I must excuse myself."

She'd barely opened her mouth to protest by
the time Armand had inclined his head and was out the door.
Exasperated, she turned to Dave. It might not be his fault, but she
felt like yelling at him anyway.

"Wow," Dave said, looking at the dark doorway
Armand had just bolted through. "Where'd you meet that freak?"

Her appetite left as quickly as Armand had.
"Dave, I'm going to have to pass on the drink. I'm suddenly not
feeling well. All those cocktails last night have been wrecking
havoc with me all day. In fact, do you want some oysters?" She
found it incredibly irritating that the moment Armand was out of
sight, she could miraculously manage her tongue.

"I guess." The furrows between Dave's brows
were ready for corn.

Julia tossed some money on the bar. "Great,
thanks." She headed for the door. "Hey, I'll see you tomorrow,
okay?" Completely lacking Armand's grace, she slipped out the door
before Dave had a chance to reply.

If she hurried, she could probably still
catch Armand in the crowds. She jogged as far as Bourbon. Greeted
by blaring music and throngs of tourists crowding the sidewalks,
she scanned the busy street. A delivery van was blocking the
intersection, and her view of the street in either direction was
obstructed by the sheer masses of people.

He could be heading towards
La Luxure
.
If she started that direction, she might find him. Julia pulled out
her map. Bourbon would be too crowded to negotiate quickly. If she
took the parallel street, Dauphine, she could move much faster.

Spinning on her heels, Julia headed back up
the street, jogging past the café and around the corner onto
Dauphine. She slowed her stride to a brisk walk with an occasional
jog thrown in. Dauphine St. was the opposite of Bourbon, or even
Royal. It was virtually empty, and the few street lamps lining the
street did, at best, a mediocre job of illuminating the way.

Her jog/walk quickly ate up two blocks. She
was about to finish up the third and turn onto St. Peter heading
back towards Bourbon, when a familiar silhouette made her pause.
Standing on the opposite side of the street, a mere 50ft away, was
the guy she'd met at the entrance to
Luxure
the first night
she was in New Orleans. His face wasn't clear in the darkness, but
the waist length dreads, fitted Victorian style coat, and top hat
gave him away.

Apparently he recognized her too. Flashing a
smile that practically sparkled in the dim light, he said, "What's
the rush O Negative?"

Every instinct in her body stood up and
shouted for her to run. She wasn't sure if it was an irrational
fear or not, but took note anyway and pushed her stride back up to
maximum walking velocity.

"Just meeting some friends," she told him
with a nervous laugh. "I'm running late." St. Peter was feet before
her. Once she rounded the corner she could sprint the short block
to Bourbon and the safety of the masses of people there.

"Where are you headed? I could escort you."
He'd started to cross the street, his sauntering stride slow but
surprisingly ground covering.

"Oh, that's not necessary. It's right up
here. Thanks though!" She gave him a jittery smile as she turned
onto St. Peter. As soon as the large, square corner building
blocked his view of her, she started to run, and didn't stop
running until she'd merged into the crowds on Bourbon and there
were a hundred people between her and St. Peter.

Once her heart slowed down to something less
than 100mph, she fell back against the wall of a grimy building.
What the hell was she thinking? What on earth possessed her to try
to track Armand down at
Luxure?
Maybe he hadn't killed Eve,
but someone had, and that someone was still out there and likely
associated with Armand's bar. A bar that, from what Julia could
tell, was filled with something dark, scary and suspiciously
vampire-like.

Vampires? Really? Was she still hung up on
that nonsense?

With a sigh, Julia tucked the map clutched in
her right hand back into her purse. Picking her way through the
crowd, she headed back to her hotel. She didn't know what to think
anymore. It was all such a crazy, bewildering mess. Maybe the
solace and safety of her hotel room and a few chapters of her book
would help clear the confusion in her head.

Chapter Six

Armand escaped into the crowds on Bourbon,
the bitter taste of Julia's rejection stinging his taste buds.
Halloween was a popular time in New Orleans and the street was
crawling with tourists eager to taste some of the darker lore of
the Crescent City. Of course, the darkest sides of the city weren't
found here.

Normally, Armand loved walking down Bourbon
when it was like this. Busy, but not shoulder-to-shoulder and still
early enough that people weren't yet puking in the alleys. The
energy was amazing. It buzzed around him in a flurry of charged
air, so thick one could almost drink it. Hoping to erase the
lingering bad taste from his encounter with Julia, he absorbed as
much of the energy he could stand before turning onto a quieter
street.

A couple staggered towards him, hunkered over
and arms entwined. They clutched at one another as if the copious
number of beads about their necks was about to drag them down, and
it was only the other's embrace that kept them upright. They were
an attractive couple. Both were obvious regulars at the salon and
gym, and it was hard to tell who had more highlights. They took one
look at Armand and crossed the street.

He wasn't usually bothered when the general
population avoided him. In fact, there were times he relished in
it. But with their "everycouple" good looks, this pair reminded him
of Julia and Dave, and the obvious avoidance tossed concrete
encased rocks into his sinking stomach.

Maybe Slade was right. Maybe pursuing any
contact with Julia was a bad idea. Her fear and suspicion of him at
the cemetery had been painfully apparent. It wasn't something he'd
expected and had surprisingly angered him. That fear only
strengthened Slade's arguments. It was dangerous enough bringing an
outsider into the Community. Bringing one that was already
frightened and wary was asking for trouble.

Why was he so fixated on her? Was it as the
bartender suggested? Was he trying to seduce the doe into a pack of
lions?

He needed to forget the whole thing. She
already had her buck in Dave. Let them have each other. Armand had
no business socializing with her in the first place.

His phone buzzed.

"What can I do for you, Slade?"

"Dude, have you seen the news yet?"

"No, why?"

"Eve was found dead last night on Burgundy
near Conti."

Armand nearly dropped his phone. "What?" He
shook his head in exasperation, even though the gesture was
pointless. "I dropped her off at the emergency room. She was still
unconscious when I left."

"She must've checked herself out. Look
Armand, it gets even worse."

"Stop. Don't say any more. Where are
you?"

"At the gym."

"I'll be there in five minutes." Armand hung
up and kicked his stride into high gear.

He was at the entrance to
Luxure
in
less than three. He sprinted down the narrow walkway, through the
small courtyard, past the front door to the bar, and through a
locked, wrought iron gate that opened up into a large central
courtyard. He crossed the courtyard in a few long strides and took
the stairs to the personal gym he'd years ago converted from an old
hayloft two at a time.

Slade was sitting on one of the weight
benches, watching the flat panel TV mounted in the corner with deep
creases between his brows. Armand couldn't remember when he'd seen
the big man look so worried. Slade might be protective of the
Community, but he wasn't normally a worrier.

"That bad?" It was more a statement than
question. It was never good news when Victims turned up dead.

Slade clicked off the TV. "They're talking
about it again on the news. Fuck, dude, this is some bad shit."

Armand sat on the inclined press bench across
from him. The gym was filled mostly with free weights, but there
were a couple treadmills and two oversized punching bags. "What is
the media saying?"

"They found her body early this morning and
they're estimating the time of death sometime after midnight."

About an hour after he dropped her off at the
hospital. "Cause of death?" Maybe it wasn't as bad as Armand
feared. Eve was a pretty heavy drug user.

"What do you think?"

"Blood loss." Slade nodded grimly and Armand
cringed. It was exactly as he feared.

"It gets worse. Apparently she was bitten
right before she died. The media's all freaked out about it.
They're speculating about some Halloween sociopath fulfilling a
Dracula fantasy."

"Fuck." It was worse than Armand feared.
Biting was pretty taboo but it happened. It was one thing to bite a
Donor in the midst of passion, but to tear into one like an animal
and then leave them on the street was unforgivable.

Closing his eyes, Armand rested his forehead
on a clenched fist and tried to breathe through the anger that was
quickly rising from an inferno deep in his gut.

"Yeah, some asshole
bit
her, drank
what little blood she still had keeping her heart beating, and left
her on a stoop to die."

At Slade's visual, the anger surged. "I
should have checked her into the hospital," Armand muttered through
gritted teeth. "I shouldn't have just dropped her off like a stray
at the shelter."

"You did the responsible thing," Slade said.
"You took her to the ER."

"And I set her down in a chair and washed my
hands of it. Because what? I didn't want to get
involved
?"
Armand shoved himself roughly to his feet. His attempts to keep his
temper subdued were unsuccessful, and pacing seemed like a suitable
distraction.

"Keeping the law out of our business is
simply prudent. You didn't do anything wrong."

Pacing wasn't helping. "Fuck prudence,"
Armand hissed as the anger peaked. "A woman is dead because I
couldn't be bothered to make sure she got the help she needed." He
slammed his fist into the punching bag, the chains groaning in
response. It felt good to hit something, too good. Armand was
forever trying to quiet the beast that brewed beneath his skin.

With a few calming breaths, and nails that
dug into his palms, he managed to turn back to Slade without
exploding.

"What do you want to do?" the big man
wondered.

"Go to the police. Make a note of everyone
that was here at her time of death in case they become suspects.
And if we find out who finished her, we turn them in."