Born Of Night cd-4 Read online

  “A kiss?” she exclaimed. Her heart tripped in her chest, staggered up, and started to run.

  He rubbed a thumb against his jaw, measuring her. “Your name and ... a kiss.”

  Jessica released an exasperated breath, trying to block out the breathless feeling in her chest at the idea of letting those sultry, pouty lips touch hers. She wasn’t going to play these games. She’d give him what he wanted all right. “It’s Jessica Talvert, and here’s your reward.” She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. She dropped down and gave him a syrupy smile of satisfaction at outwitting him.

  Who said she was a dumb blonde?

  “Sweet, but I’m no’ your brodder, chere,” he said in a voice brimming with enough sensual menace a delicious primal shiver skated through her body. He caught her arms about the same time she realized his intent, blocking her defensive ball busting move with one knee and her titty twister with an unbreakable hold. Before she knew what was happening, she found herself whirled around and thrust against one wall, hauled tightly against his body.

  Shadows cloaked them, spilling across his face. He seemed a lot bigger and more dangerous so tightly against her. She should’ve abandoned her necklace to him.

  “Some hero,” she gritted out, squirming in his hold, trying to free a hand. Despite her struggles, she insanely anticipated him stealing a kiss from her. Didn’t it make it all right to enjoy herself if she didn’t really give in? That was a rule somewhere, she was sure.

  Something dark and predatory flashed in his eyes, like a slumbering wolf had been awakened. Her breath caught. All the silly little, nervous thoughts washing through her brain froze. He smiled ferally, then bent his head to claim her lips.

  Jessica gasped, partly in outrage, but mostly from a surge of heat so sharp and drastic, her heart stopped for a breathless moment.

  He seized the break in her defenses and plunged his tongue into her mouth, filling her with hot persuasion and the stroking glide of his tongue. He tasted spicy, like cinnamon and rum and something infinitely wilder and more dangerous. Jessica wanted to bite him, to fight him off, but he rubbed sensuously against her own tongue, silky, slick and rough. It took only moments for vengeful thoughts to disappear entirely and be replaced by the seductive call of desire. Jessica gave a shocked whimper when he retreated and sucked her tongue into his mouth.

  She tried to pull back, but he captured the back of her head with an easy, merciless grip, holding her to the thrall of his mouth and his hungry, sucking kiss. Slowly, she began to realize a pressure that had never been there before built low in her belly.

  Arousal cramped her pussy with a jerking spasm of pleasure. She gasped into his mouth at the piercing, sweet agony, the awakening of some long slumbering beast inside her. His mouth drove her wild, made her respond in a way she’d never dreamed possible. Heat rippled through her.

  He cradled his body into hers, stroking those rough jeans against her trapped slit, melting her core until she felt her wet arousal trickle between her thighs. His groin nestled in the juncture of her thighs, so incredibly close to where she needed it, unbearably hard and erotic, wrecking what little resolve she still possessed. At some point, he’d freed her hands to draw his around her waist and bring her tighter against him, slipping them down to clutch her buttocks and mold her to the hot tightness of his cock.

  Jessica clung to him, her fingers stroking his satiny skin and muscled back. She squirmed in pleasurable agony as he thrust against her, fighting the thrill that surged in her blood at his possessive hold and the knowledge that she’d conjured his lust.

  She couldn’t seem to get enough air. She felt dizzy with it and the tingling pleasure between her thighs. Her lips and tongue felt gloriously bruised from his kiss, so sensitive she could orgasm if only he’d continue devouring her.

  He broke away from her mouth suddenly, leaving her gasping for breath and her knees weak.

  “You’re so sweet, cherie,” he said with a drowsy, heated look, rubbing his thumb across his lips and licking the moisture lingering from her mouth off the pad.

  Jessica swallowed. Hard. She felt dazed and not herself, and her pulse still raced with something akin to heat. The loss of control unnerved her. “My necklace?” she managed to say past her throbbing lips. She held out her hand, palm up, encouraged by her ability not to melt in a puddle on the ground at his feet.

  He gave her an unreadable look and dropped the necklace into her hand, closing her fingers over it. “It’s broken. You’ll need t’fix it,” he said, releasing her hand.

  She resisted the urge to rub where he’d touched her. She felt positively branded all over. By the way he was acting, it seemed to be just her reacting so heatedly to the kiss--which was infinitely embarrassing to say the least. Jessica looked down at the broken chain. “Yes, it is.” But she’d already known that. The thief had ripped it from her neck.

  “It’s not somtin’ you wanna wait on, chere.”

  Jessica looked up, distracted from her unwanted physical response by the intriguing tone of his voice. There was warning there. And something else she couldn’t quite identify. “What do you mean?”

  “Jus’ what I said. There’s a shop jus’ a ways from the corner of Bourbon and Canal--Mikel’s. They can fix it for you there. You wan’ me t’show you?” He grinned in the half light, his teeth flashing white against his bronzed skin.

  “Thanks. I can find it on my own.” She hadn’t noticed any shops on her way down here--mostly just hotels and the like. A few bars. Her own hotel was on Canal Street.

  “You’re not gonna go, are you, chere?”

  Whether she did or not wasn’t any of his business. She shrugged noncommittally.

  “Jus’ remember what I tol’ you.”

  His advice brought the warning her adoptive parents had given her fresh into her mind. Never take this off. Never. She knew her neck was ringed with paler skin, the chain having long rested around it ... for as long as she could remember. She half wondered if he knew something she didn’t, but she shrugged the silly thought off.

  He didn’t know her or anything about her. She’d gotten paranoid since coming to New Orleans.

  Jessica turned to go, then stopped. “What’s your name?” she asked, glancing back at him over her shoulder.

  He smiled lazily, propping one shoulder against the building in confident male fashion. “Gabriel Benoit, petite. At your service.”

  “Nice to ... uh ... meet you,” she murmured and turned away before he could see her blush again ... or draw her into further conversation. She put his disturbing presence and even more disturbing kiss out of her mind.

  She wasn’t here to get involved with any man, especially not one like him. She knew the type--players. Always charming, good looking, and absolutely horrible on a woman’s self esteem when they left and chased after the next piece of ass. She wasn’t going to be any man’s conquest. Not that Jessica had ever fallen for a player, but she damned well knew now why women did.

  She still felt hot and bothered as she set off for her hotel. She glanced back to see if he followed--not because she wanted one last look at temptation incarnate--but he wasn’t to be seen. She quickly lost sight of the small alley as she made her way toward Canal street and left the Bourbon revelers behind. Soon the only sounds on the street were the hum of car engines, the wind, and her own footsteps. It was a long walk back to her hotel, and she was contemplating catching a cab when she noticed the obscure shop Gabriel had spoken of.

  It was practically invisible, overshadowed by the giants around it, but the shuttered, double doors were thrown open to let a cool breeze inside. Obviously, they were open, even at this late hour. Jessica approached it, and the jangling music of wind chimes grew louder as she neared. A man was inside, sweeping the rugs covering the tiled floor. He looked up as she passed through the door.

  “Are you closing up?” she asked, stopping inside the threshold.

  “Not just yet,” he said, setting his broom aside.
“What can I do for you?”

  Jessica held up her necklace, looking around and feeling like she’d been duped. The shop didn’t look like a jewelry repair place. “Someone mentioned I could get this fixed here,” she said with a doubtful tone to her voice.

  He took it from her and gave her a startled look, quickly shuttered. “Yep. I’ll get this fixed for you in a jiffy. Have a look around. I’ll be right back.”

  Jessica nodded and watched him go through a door into the back, then wandered around the cluttered shop. There were racks of charms and potions on one side, including a row dedicated to nothing but essence of garlic of varying sizes and potencies. Weapons lined the walls out of reach near the ceiling: crossbows, long bows, swords, and arrows with silver and wooden heads. There were others she couldn’t identify, but that looked almost like maces.

  Jessica continued looking and found an umbrella holder filled with short wooden stakes and another with mallets. It looked for all the world like some bizarre, witch hunting shop ... or rather, one dedicated to vampire hunting. The movie Blade popped in her head. Really, being Louisiana, she would’ve thought they’d have more voodoo paraphernalia.

  The man came out again, moving behind the front counter. He laid her necklace on the clean surface. “That’s a fine warding medallion you have. Been a while since I’ve seen one so old.”

  “Warding medallion?” she asked, walking up to the counter to check the work. She couldn’t even tell it had ever been broken.

  “Yes. Well, it’s an old, cryptic language. Most people wouldn’t recognize it. See these markings here?” He flipped it over and showed her a scrawling script. She’d always thought it was some kind of ornate design--not words. “It’s protection against the wolf.”

  Jessica was intrigued. She leaned on the counter, looking between him and her medallion. “What kind of protection?”

  “It depends on the wearer really. Now, if you were a vampire, it would ward werewolves away ... supposedly.”

  Jessica laughed. He wasn’t serious. “Okay, you got me. There’s no such thing as vampires and werewolves.”

  He chuckled, watching as she put the necklace on. “I’m not joking around. I would’

  ve thought you’d heard of the war by now.”

  “What war? Does it have something to do with all this stuff in here?” she asked, waving an expansive arm, playing along.

  He propped an elbow on the register. “Of course. I’m just a supplier, mind you. I don’t take part, but I’m partial to the Lycan side of things.”

  “Why’s that? I mean, I don’t see why vampires and Lycans would fight.”

  He rubbed his jaw, considering it. “It must’ve been in the early part of this past century. The Lycans rebelled against the vamps using them as food and slaves ... but they mostly objected to being eaten, and still do. Must’ve been a sight to see them tearing into the vamps--if you were on the inside, that is. I’ve always been partial to the underdog, so I supply them when they come in.”

  Jessica was completely unnerved and fascinated by his story. She didn’t doubt but what there were plenty of nuts running around claiming to be a werewolf or a vampire. She guessed anyone had a right to make a living selling to them. “So is this war still going on?” she asked, amused.

  “It flares up every now and again, but they usually stick to their territory. Just stay clear of anything Southwest of the Ponchartrain Expressway. Especially the warehouse and Garden district.”

  Jessica nodded, humoring him. She was going there to check out the cemetery where her birth parents had been buried--at least that’s what she’d managed to dig up. Jessica paid him and turned to leave, but he stopped her with one last warning.

  “You’ll remember what I said, right? I can tell you’re not from around here and don’t know about the territories just yet. I wouldn’t want you to have a run in with those bloodsuckers. There’s only so much protection that warding medallion will give you.”

  Chapter Two

  Gabriel stood in the shadow of a doorway, watching as Jessica left the shop and walked up the street, completely unaware of his presence. Her senses were too dulled from human living, but he could change that. And he would. Even with the distance, he sensed the necklace about her throat. He was grateful she’d heeded his advice and gotten the chain fixed. A warding medallion was no real worry to him, but he hoped its power would keep the others from sensing her presence in the city a while longer. He’d staked his claim with that kiss, but there were too many to challenge him.

  Given what she was, he had little doubt she would be allowed to choose a mate, and better him than another. The fact that he had little remorse for his action proved just how Lycan he’d grown, but it mattered not.

  He waited until she’d gained some distance on him before pushing away from the door jam, following her, keeping her within sight. The streets here were empty of other pedestrians. He couldn’t smell Lycans or Vamps nearby, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there, prowling the streets. Still, he was satisfied they were relatively alone.

  He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, rubbing his fingers on the rough denim. They still burned from holding the chain, but no more than the studs in his nipples. If anything, it served as reminder of the kiss he’d taken.

  His cock tightened at that thought, and the sight of her hips swaying gently as she walked only worsened the sweet pain. He smiled darkly. She remained oblivious to the fact that he followed her. But wasn’t that how he wanted it? She was blissfully innocent, and he knew the warning Mikel had given her had fallen on disbelieving ears.

  She’d become a believer soon enough. It was amazing how quickly a person could change their mind when confronted by living, breathing evidence. Seeing with her own eyes would banish that last, clinging ignorance.

  Now that she was here, the warding power of the medallion would grow weaker and weaker, until it lost its power completely amongst the overwhelming presence of his brethren.

  Gabriel almost regretted what she’d go through. But she should not have come to New Orleans. Now that she was here, he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of seducing her. The subtle nuances of her nervous desire excited him immeasurably: the breathless sigh, the pulse in her throat, the fight against her own base appetites that mirrored his own. He could still taste her on his tongue, feel the rounded firmness of her ass in his palms. His groin felt imprinted by the cloaked heat of her femininity.

  He couldn’t remember ever feeling so frustrated in all his life. He wondered if fucking both their brains out would satisfy the lust boiling his blood, or if it would only worsen, make him insane with lust. He wondered if it was worth the risk in tempting the beast. Could any woman be worth so much?

  She stopped suddenly on the sidewalk. Gabriel ducked into a doorway, waiting to see what she would do. He watched her indecisive profile, as she crossed and uncrossed her arms, kicked at a ball of trash on the pavement. Finally, she made up her mind and moved forward and into a local bar.

  Apparently, she wasn’t ready to give up the night just yet.

  He grinned and trotted up the sidewalk. Just his kind of girl. He liked a woman who didn’t know when to quit.

  But she didn’t need to be out too late. He couldn’t sense any danger, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t out there. He wanted to make sure she got to her room okay.

  He chuckled, thinking of a few ways to wear her out and entertain her if she was feeling restless.

  Gabriel waited a few minutes before sauntering through the door. Inside was darker than out, almost smoky-like. A live band took up a space on a far, center wall, and most of the light and noise came from there and the crowded dance floor. Looking around the hazy space, he saw mostly tourists, probably from the nearby hotels.

  Their scent gave them away--they were missing that certain spice that only natives had to them, not like his Jessica though. She was a force unto herself.

  Gabriel sidled up to the bar, got a beer, and turned
around, propping his elbows on the bar as he scanned the crowd for her. He spotted her at a table, nursing a drink and giving a brush off to a man hitting on her. His ears prickled to hear her soft rebuttal, barely audible, even to his own keen ears.

  Doesn’t like to dance?

  A challenge, and she didn’t even realize it. She was damn well in the wrong place, not to be a dancer. Music was a part of life here, dancing in the blood, necessary as air or water to live. He was going to introduce her to one of the finer points of Louisiana living.

  * * *

  Jessica just wanted to watch. She liked watching people dancing, drinking, talking ...

  flirting. Interaction had always fascinated her for some reason, even after she’d become disillusioned with society. She just liked the atmosphere, especially down here. Of course, just because she liked to watch didn’t mean she wanted to do it herself--especially not with some slush who could barely stand and reeked of stale beer.

  A chair scraped behind her. Jessica mentally rolled her eyes and shuddered. She sensed more than saw someone come up behind her elbow.

  Much as the guy deserved a hit to the gut, she wasn’t going to get physical.

  Dammit! She’d tried to be nice. Repeatedly. There was just no way to be nice to people any more. Courtesy had disappeared fifty years ago, along with manners. She hated being mean--it always made her feel like a dog when she got through.

  Jessica swiveled in her chair, her stomach clenched with the rebuttal she was going to have to deliver.

  She stopped, stunned to look up and see Gabriel Benoit standing before her.

  Her brain only took a few seconds to jump-start this time. She was getting better at recovering. A few more times seeing him and she might even act normal. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. Before she could demand to know what he wanted, he surprised her by speaking first.

  “You followin’ me, cherie? Dere’s laws against stalkin’, you know,” he said with that husky, lilting tone that made her want to melt to the floor in an orgasmic puddle.