Eveillez: Deny Your Blood Lust (17 page)

When her back hit the wall, he buried himself deep inside her. Nothing about him was gentle, but it didn't matter. All she could feel was his passion and his need to consume her. She readily gave herself to him. He could have every piece of her. Anything. Everything. If it belonged to her, he could have it.

He roared as his orgasm pounded into her, his body shuddering violently.

And then, just like that, every ounce of tension slid from him. His breath shallow and ragged, he rested his forehead against hers. She ran her hand over his face and he nuzzled into it, kissing her palm.

He released his death grip on her thighs and she lowered her legs, her feet suddenly unsteady on the towering heels. He caressed her arms. "What do I do, Julia? Tell me what to do."

The abrupt shift didn't shock her. In some ways, she'd expected it. "Let it go," she said.

He nodded. "Close the bar."

"No. Let Slade take that over. He's more than capable. You can't close the bar. You and I both know the Community needs
Luxure
and not only will Slade do a great job managing it, he takes the drama in stride. And you … you can go back to school. Finish medical school, become a doctor, help the Community from another angle. Vampirism is a condition, but who is researching it? You could do it. Or, if you don't want to go there, teach. I know how much you love sharing knowledge with others." She smiled. "There's no reason to torture yourself with problems no man can solve. So … separate yourself from it."

He kissed her. "You're right. Of course." He kissed her again. "What would I do without you?"

She smoothed his hair. "I don't want to think about it."

"You won't ever have to." His kiss lingered longer this time, sweet and sensual, so different from his recent aggressive touch. "You know, if I enter the real world, I'll have to cut my hair and remove the fangs."

"I think I can make some sacrifices," she said with an exaggerated pout. She would miss the soft brown curls and his teeth, but they weren't him. They never had been. "Besides, I know you know a good fangsmith. We'll get you a pair for play time."

He laughed. "I love you, Julia Laroque."

"And I love you, Armand Laroque."

He planted a quick kiss on her lips and then stepped back. "Let's go dance."

"I should probably clean up."

"Just toss on those panties you stashed in your purse and call it good."

"That's so dirty. People will smell the sex all over me."

His smile was wicked. "I know. And no one will doubt you belong to me."

"I'm not sure I like this possessive side of you."

He bent and growled in her ear, "Yes you do."

With a groan she shoved him away. It felt so good to be back normal, no matter how weird their normal was. "Okay, yes, it's fucking hot. Now put your codpiece back on, show me where the bathroom is, and then buy me another drink!"

Chapter Nineteen

His hands and head bandaged, Kevin watched the Forensic team pour over the courtyard. The entire area had been taped off, pictures taken, apartments searched … and no sign of Lohr. It was like he'd vanished into thin air. It had the Forensics team spooked and Kevin listening to whispered speculations that Lohr Varius was a
real
vampire. He chalked it up to the date—Halloween—and the fact that there seemed to be no actual information on Lohr. According to the United States Government, he didn't exist.

He didn't know what to think anymore. At this point, he'd rather not think at all.

Without interest, he watched Johnson approach. The stout detective had a cigarette in his mouth and a ketchup stain on his shirt. Built a little like a tank, he must have played defense in high school. The number of po'boys Johnson consumed might have more to do with his lineman physique, but Kevin doubted it. Johnson was simply a solidly built man.

"You really should go to the hospital," he said as he joined him at the iron Bistro table.

"The EMTs fixed me up just fine."

"You shouldn't mess around with head injuries," Johnson told him.

"My skull is thick." It looked like the Forensics team had wrapped up their investigation and now the crime scene cleaners had arrived. With their white Hazmat suits, they looked like they were getting ready to handle some sort of biological warfare agent and not just a little blood.

"There's an APB out for Lohr and your friend, Hail. All major airports within a hundred mile radius have been alerted, as well as ports, bus-stations, you name it. We've seized all of Lohr's accounts and are tracking his credit cards and cell usage. FBI's been alerted too. He won't get far."

He had a feeling Lohr had multiple identities the police couldn't begin to imagine. For some reason he wouldn't be surprised if Lohr was halfway to Venice or something. If someone had asked him yesterday, he would have bet a thousand dollars against Lohr. Today…? Wearing shackles and handcuffs, Lohr had somehow managed to get away from an armed officer. He did not doubt how slippery that bastard could be.

"Any word on Belk?" he asked, turning his attention back to Johnson.

"He's awake. A little dazed but otherwise unhurt."

"Does he remember what happened?"

Johnson nodded. "I guess Lohr was peacefully walking along and then just turned on Belk, looping the handcuff chain around his neck and head butting him. Belk said Lohr moved so fast, he didn't have time to react. The next thing he knew he was on the ground. It looks like he was pistol whipped with his own gun."

"Damn. Well, I'm glad he isn't seriously injured."

"We did find some bloody prints on the gate. Forensics is running them."

"Hmm." It didn't seem to matter. So they'd discover the prints were Lohr's or Hail's or even another accomplice's, Kevin was sure they were all long gone. Lohr might be crazy but Darus and Hail were right. He definitely wasn't stupid. Hell, he might even be supernatural. At this point, not much would surprise him.

He took in the scene. Things were wrapping up here. Strangely enough, he didn't feel like he'd failed. He wasn't sure what else he could have done. Maybe if he'd stayed with Belk…

No, it had been prudent to check up on Hail. There was no way to know a handcuffed and shackled man would be able to take out a fully armed police officer. Not to mention an officer that outweighed Lohr by at least seventy pounds.

He rose. "I'm going to go," he said.

"You sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"I'm good." He turned to Johnson. "I'll see you at work. Thanks for your help tonight."

"Any time. Oh, stay home tomorrow and let your noggin heal. Your report can wait a day. I'll call you if anything comes up on Lohr."

Surprisingly, he didn't feel the need to argue. "Thanks. The report will be my final by the way. Besides Hail and Ash, there's no one else to prosecute."

"You caught one vampire at least. That's a win," Johnson said.

It sure as hell didn't feel like a win. He waved at Johnson and then headed for the exit.

The gate beneath the wall he had been painfully forced to climb was now open. He nodded to the officer on duty as he passed. There was one more place for him to visit before he could finally retire to the comfort of his bed.

Kevin watched three couples walk into the vampire bar before he finally followed them in. He had no idea what to think anymore. It was like two opposing armies had set up shop in his guts. One saw the entire vampire community as the enemy. The other…? Not only did it want to warn the patrons of
La Luxure
Lohr Varius was on the loose, but it also desperately wanted to snuggle up to a certain blond vampire queen.

At this point his emotions were such a fucked up mess of confusion, he had completely tuned them out. He was operating on
do
mode, not
think
mode.

In spite of a fairly packed bar, Slade noticed him the moment he walked in. The bartender served the drink in his hand and approached him. No longer wearing a sling, he held his hand outstretched in a handshake. Besides Julia Laroque, Slade was the only person in the vampire community who had ever offered to shake his hand. He would have accepted it graciously, but a quick glance at the bandages wrapped around his palms and he changed his mind, holding his hands up by way of explanation.

"I'm guessing this isn't a mummy costume." Slade gestured toward the bandages.

"I'm afraid not."

The bartender's youthful face turned serious. "What can I do for you, Detective?"

Kevin glanced around the crowded bar, taking note of Kate Miller waitressing tables in a black cat costume. "Do you have someone who can watch the bar?" he wondered, turning back to the over-muscled bartender. Slade was dressed as one of the droogs from
A Clockwork Orange
. "I'd really like to talk to you in private."

For a moment, Slade looked dubious. Then he spied someone and waved them over. It was a waitress with Betty Page hair and matching Betty Page outfit. Kevin recognized her from his trip to
La Luxure
the previous night.

"Can you tend bar for me for a sec?" he asked when she stepped into the waitress well.

"Sure thing, love."

She glanced briefly at Kevin, before she squeezed around Slade and started taking drink orders. The bartender gestured for him to follow as he pushed through two velvet curtains into a back room. When the heavy curtains falling behind him cut off the Goth rock raging the dance floor, all he could think about was Angel in her black keyhole dress.

Slade turned to him, folding his thick arms across his even thicker chest. He was leaning against a small, apartment-sized refrigerator. Kevin briefly wondered what was inside and then quickly decided it didn't matter.

"I have bad news," he started.

"Fuck. I don't think I want to know."

"You don't." He raked his hair in a nervous habit sort of way, wincing when his palms brushed a little too firmly against his scalp. "Lohr Varius has escaped custody."

"Fuck. Me," Slade spit out through gritted teeth. He paced the length of the room a couple times, the overdeveloped muscles of his arms bulging as he clenched his fists. Finally, he turned back to Kevin. "No chance I can help you track him down and beat his ass?"

"He's long gone."

"You've checked the Bywater warehouse?"

"Yes."

"And his house in the Quarter?"

Kevin nodded. "Do you know anywhere else he might go?"

"Out of town?"

"We're on it."

"Fuck. Then, no."

"I did shoot him if that's any consolation."

"Well I guess that's good news. Except obviously it wasn't enough to take that skinny asshole down, was it?"

"Doesn't look like it."

"You know I'm not going to be happy until a couple of bullets are bouncing around in his bony skull," Slade admitted.

Kevin grinned. "I figured as much. Look, I just came here to give you a head's up. If Lohr—or Hail—show up, call the police. Don't hesitate."

"Hail too? Not really a surprise." Slade shook his head, looking exasperated. "I won't lie, Detective, if Lohr shows up here I'll probably break his neck. Hail's too."

Kevin suddenly understood what Johnson had been saying all along. This was a good man. Armand was a good man. And maybe it
was
better if the vampires policed themselves. "I know." He gestured toward the bar. "Those wood floors are slippery and the bar is solid. Accidents happen."

Slade's grin was evil. "They do, don't they."

"I am sorry. I should have aimed for Lohr's head."

Slade grasped his forearm in a modified handshake. "I know. Thanks for stopping by, man. I appreciate you taking the time to personally tell me."

"Do you want me to tell Miss Miller?"

Slade grimaced. "No. I will. Later."

"Hey, you know Lohr. Any chance he'll come after her? We can put her under police surveillance…"

He grimaced again. "Not necessary. I seriously doubt Lohr would risk it. He's too much of a coward to face me directly and I don't plan on letting her out of my sight."

"Good. That's kind of what I thought."

He gripped Kevin's shoulder. "So we're good?"

"Absolutely."

"Mind if I head back in…?"

"No, go ahead."

"You look like you're ready for a shot anyway," Slade said as he led him back into the bar. "A whiskey man right?"

"Good call."

"I got your back."

And for the first time, Kevin truly believed it. Slade, Armand, Kindle … were all men he would happily call on when shit went down. He had no doubt he could count on every single one to have his back.

He skipped the liquor store on the way home. Granted, he had a decent buzz from the multiple whiskey shots Slade poured him, but he didn't want a repeat of the previous night. Given where his head had a tendency to go late at night, keeping liquor at home was a bad idea. Especially when there was a loaded gun within reach.

Though not on the direct route from
La Luxure
to the station (where his car had been returned), he found himself walking past Angel's studio. He paused at the front door. Not a light was on in the building: not upstairs where Angel lived nor in the studio below.

Was she out? It
was
Halloween. She was probably performing, or maybe with a man…

It felt weird when jealousy slugged him. Just as it had been strange her relationship with Ash made him jealous. Sharing a couple spontaneous steamy moments didn't exactly make them a couple. He had even less of a claim on her after running out on her after coitus, and then rejecting her again at the police station this afternoon. She'd surprised him already, though. After everything—from their first encounter at the police station to him fucking and running—she'd still called him this morning to see how he was feeling.

Pulling up the history on his phone, he noted the unassigned phone number that could only belong to her. His finger hovered on the TALK button.

What
would
he say if he spoke to her?
"Sorry I've been such a dick and I'm completely freaked out by your claim to being a vampire, but I'd really like to have sex with you again."

Skipping over her number, he called the station to see if there was an update on Lohr Varius. When the report came back empty, he started to return the phone to its carrying case and stopped. Impulsively, he pulled up Angel's website on his phone's browser and checked her performance schedule. Even though the information was out there for people to find, it felt a little stalkerish.

Sure enough, she was scheduled to perform at Velvet, the venue where he'd first met her, at ten-thirty. He glanced at the clock. If he hurried, he could make it. He had to see her again. Even if it was from the audience.

He wasn't the only one wearing bandages at Velvet. The bar was packed with costumed patrons and no one gave him a second glance as he pushed his way to the base of the stage. Besides some fucked up drive to watch Angel's lithe body twist and contort on the silky red fabric hanging in the middle of the stage, he wasn't sure what exactly he hoped to accomplish by coming here.

On the off chance he decided to face her, what
did
he want to come of it? Was he going to cry on her shoulder, expose his demons and let her gentle voice soothe his woes? Bury his face between her thighs and let the taste of her sweet orgasm distract him from his failures? Drink her blood again?

Shit. Every one of those possibilities sounded amazing. Even the last one. Especially the last one.

Hanging out with vampires was wreaking havoc on his psyche.

The background music faded and soulful violin replaced it. Angel emerged from backstage wearing a black mesh catsuit with slashes of glittering fabric crisscrossing her body. Her platinum blond hair was swept up into a sleek updo, and netting covered her face. As gorgeous as she looked, something felt off about her as she sauntered toward the fabric.