Fangs for Nothing (15 page)

“Your clothes are trashed. How about I find something of mine for you to wear.” Not bothering with a towel, because well, he liked to be naked, and she couldn’t stop him, he went over to his dresser.

Rifling through his T-shirt drawer, he found a Union Jack shirt. “Oh, look, here’s one for you.”

“Ha-ha. Aside from the subject matter, I cannot wear a T-shirt with these handcuffs.”

She was right. She would need a sweatshirt or something, which was ridiculous because it was ten million degrees outside. “You’re going to have to wear a T-shirt. It’s too hot for anything else.” He found one that was loose, and just a plain gray cotton. “Here, try this.”

Lizette turned her back slightly, which was ridiculous, but she did, and edged her towel to her waist to put the shirt on. Of course, her left arm fit in normally but the right one couldn’t, so her flank was completely exposed. But Johnny could fix that. He rifled through his dresser and found a stapler.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding alarmed.

“Trust me.” He stapled the shirt together, closing the gap from waist to arm pit. It looked weird, but she was in, and it was clean, even though the shoulder was bunching.

“But . . .”

“What?”

“I don’t have my bra on.”

He hated to tell her that no one would ever notice. She wasn’t exactly a busty chick. But he just told her quite honestly, “You can’t tell. I swear.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. The shirt’s really baggy, there is no way you can tell.”

“I feel ridiculous. I wish I had panties.”

He wasn’t sure what the one statement had to do with the other, but he could at least fix the second problem. “Do you want to borrow a pair of my underwear?”

“No! Of course not. That would be . . .”

“Inappropriate?” he asked, pulling a pair out of his drawer for himself. He bent over and stepped into them. Of course, the motion caused her to have to bend over, too, putting her face in very close proximity to his cock.

This had potential.

“I know precisely what you are thinking.”

“Yeah?” Good, then he wouldn’t even have to ask or suggest.

“It is not going to happen.”

Damn. “You’re sure? Because I would return the favor.”

“No. That is not something I have ever done.”

Was she kidding? She’d never blown a guy? Wow. “Because you think it’s gross or because it’s just never happened?”

He wasn’t sure how anyone could go several hundred years and never at least have the option of sucking cock presented to her, but then again, they didn’t move in the same circles. Maybe Paris was dead these days. His unintended pun made him want to grin, but he controlled himself and just stood in his underwear waiting for her response.

“I have limited experience with men, as I mentioned. Jean-Baptiste, he considered that particular action reserved for a mistress, not a lady.”

Jean-Baptiste sounded like a pretentious prick. “So wait a minute, you’re telling me he’d let a prostitute blow him, but not you? That he wasn’t even faithful to you?”

She swallowed visibly. Her words were defensive, but her tone was soft, maybe even sad. “Yes. But that was the way of our world. I never expected him to be satisfied with me alone.”

That was fucked-up. “But let me guess . . . you were expected to be faithful to him.”

“Of course.” She looked like that was a ludicrous question. “I never wanted to be with another man. I was in love with him.”

Johnny wanted to ask why, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know the guy, and she was right, times had been different. So he concentrated on what that meant. “So you never have, but have you ever wanted to?”

“Certainly. It has crossed my mind on more than one occasion that I would like to have the experience. I would like to know if I am capable of creating that sort of a response from a man.”

She had never given oral sex to any other man, yet she was open to the idea. That was the hottest thing he’d ever heard in his entire life. He could be the first man she put her mouth around and sucked to oblivion. An erection sprang to life, and he wondered if there was a casual way to ask to her to reconsider dropping to her knees.

“When I am ready, I will let you know,” she said.

For some reason, that did something really weird to the interior of his chest cavity. Johnny brushed her hair back off her cheek and looked into her deep brown eyes. “I really like you, Lizette.” It was a completely cornball, lame-ass thing to say, but it was how he felt.

She smiled. “That’s not going to make me change my mind.”

The ironic thing was, for once he didn’t have an angle, nor was he joking around. He didn’t even bother to explain that to her. He just found himself saying earnestly, “I wish you didn’t have to go back to France. I wish we had more time to spend together.”

The smile fell off her face and she tilted her head, studying him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I want more time to get to know you, both in bed and out. I don’t want you to leave yet.” He took her hand and held it a little more aggressively than romantically. But he had a point to make.

Her expression softened. “I don’t think that I want to leave yet either.”

“Then maybe it’s a good thing you canceled your flight.” He kissed the corner of her mouth because it looked delectable. She looked delectable.

“Perhaps it is.” She sighed. “But I only have a room at the hotel through tomorrow.”

“You can stay with me,” he said, because he was crazy. Crazy about her and just plain crazy. Because never once, in his entire life, had he offered for a woman to stay with him. Not even his sister.

So the fact that he had just suggested to Lizette that she shack up with him for an undetermined amount of time meant that he had completely lost it. Her body had numbed his brain. There was no other explanation.

Of course, there was another explanation, but he refused to consider it.

Which was why he suddenly found himself hustling her out of the bedroom after he yanked on his jeans and grabbed a clean shirt to take with him. “You know, I just had a thought. There is a metal shop down on Rampart. I bet they can cut us out of these cuffs. Your skin is starting to chafe.”

“I’m fine.”

“Well, we have to get out of them sooner or later.” He handed her a pair of basketball shorts from his dresser to wear.

“What is this?”

“Shorts for you. Unless you want to put your skirt back on. But the shorts might help with your concern over a lack of panties.”

“Oh, that is true.” She sat down and pulled them on. “Thank you, that is very sweet of you.”

Feeling like he couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, Johnny led her through the apartment and out the front door, feeling much better when the sultry night air hit his skin.

And since they were passing the bar with a vampire bartender on the way back to his place, he decided he needed a drink. Bad. Like a big gigantic drink that would make him forget that for a split second, he had felt pleased that Lizette had canceled her plane ticket and ordered lingerie sent to his apartment. He wanted to obliterate the idea that he might actually be happy living with a woman from here to forever. With Lizette. That she was
the
woman.

Holy crap.

Johnny yanked the door open to Fahy’s and held it open for Lizette, anxiety crawling up and scratching him on the balls. “Do you mind if we stop for a second?” he asked, even though he’d already pulled open the door. If she said no, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but it wasn’t going to be pretty.

He had just freaked himself the fuck out.

And Lizette was going to be staying with him.

Chapter Twelve

IF THESE WALLS COULD TALK

(Thankfully the Bouncer Can)

D
RAKE
knew exactly what Josie Lynn was referring to, but maybe it was the residual effects of the drugs, or that fact that she was standing only inches away from him and he really, really dug how she looked in his shirt, but his brain just didn’t seem to be working.

“Our kind?”

Josie Lynn nodded. “Yeah, she said, ‘our kind must stick together.’”

“Oh, that.” He started walking and she quickly fell into step beside him, casting glances at him, clearly awaiting an explanation.

“She was just referring to the fact that we—” he paused, then said quickly and rather proudly, “are performers. Because I’m in a band. So she considers us all, you know, contemporaries.”

She considered his explanation. “So why wouldn’t she consider the Chers contemporaries, too?”

“She’s just jealous of all the changes and other female impersonators’ success. Rivalry, I guess.”

Josie Lynn nodded, seeming to accept his explanation. Thankfully. There was no way Drake was going to tell her that Madame Renee Chevalier had been a vampire even longer than he had. Vampirism was going to stay out of the topic of conversation completely. Because first, she’d think he was totally mad. And second, if she didn’t, she’d be scared shitless. Neither a good option.

“So do we head to the nightclub on Royal?”

“I think we’d do better to see if I can get into my apartment,” Drake said.

“What? Not willing to go into the nightclub dressed like that?”

He shot her a look, although truth be told, he would be glad to get into some pants that weren’t squeezing his balls quite so much.

“I can’t say these are the most comfortable clothes I’ve ever worn,” he said, wriggling himself to adjust things a little, which didn’t help. Everything was smooshed against the unforgiving plastic. “But mostly, I think we are probably going to need cash. And I also wanted to see if Cort, my roommate, you know, Katie’s husband, is there.”

Josie Lynn gave a nod, and he realized he was probably overexplaining.

“Anyway, I’m hoping he might know or remember something. Maybe he saw something odd before we all started tripping.”

“Where’s your apartment?” She said, looking around like she wanted to keep their mission moving. So much for actually becoming comfortable around him.

“This way,” he pointed. “On Toulouse, on the block just across from The Dungeon. So maybe we should go to my place, hit The Dungeon to see if we can get any info there, then to Queen Mary’s.”

They started down Bourbon, dodging groups of revelers, a few drunks who’d gone way beyond revelry and damn near into oblivion. Then a bunch of religious fanatics waving signs and telling everyone they were going to Hell. Just an average night on Bourbon.

“Hey, Legs.” An obviously inebriated guy in his mid-twenties who, given his Saints jersey, appeared to be a local, grabbed Josie Lynn’s arm as they walked past.

“I like the short little dress you got going on here,” he slurred, his bleary eyes still managing to look focused enough on her. “Why don’t you join me and my buddies?”

“No thank you,” Josie Lynn said, her voice hard and annoyed. She jerked her arm out of the man’s grasp, but he only reached for her again.

“Hey dude, leave her alone,” Drake warned.

The guy gave him the once-over, then glanced at his two buddies before saying, “What are you going to do about it in your shiny, bright blue pants?”

Then he returned his attention to Josie Lynn.

“Come on,” the drunk coaxed. “I’d love to have a chance to see what’s under all those pretty ruffles.”

Drake didn’t wait for Josie Lynn’s response. Instead he grabbed the arm of the man that held her and twisted it, so the rude drunk was not only no longer touching Josie Lynn, but also not even facing her.

“I said leave her alone.” Drake jerked the man’s arm upward just enough that the drunk cried out in pain. “Now are you and your friends going to move along and not bother this lady anymore?”

The man didn’t answer right away, and Drake couldn’t help jerking his arm again.

“Alright,” the man shouted, the pain in his shoulder clearly making him more willing to answer promptly. Drake cast looks toward his two friends. Neither looked inclined to jump to their friend’s defense. In fact, they both kept glancing around them as if they hoped no one was even noticing the tussle. Yeah, they were no threat.

Drake jerked his arm one last time, then released the drunk. “Just get out of here. And try to remember your manners, will you?”

The jerk shot him an angry look but said nothing more. His buddy urged him to just come on, and the guy did, staggering off into the crowds.

Drake turned back to Josie Lynn. “Are you okay?”

Josie Lynn answered with a furious glare, then she started walking in the direction of his apartment.

Drake stood there, stunned, then jogged to catch up with her brisk, determined pace.

“Cupcake? Why are you mad at me?”

She stopped so suddenly and spun toward him so fast that he almost mowed her over. Instead he caught her shoulders, both to balance her and to stop himself.

“Can you please stop calling me that?”

“Okay,” he agreed readily. It was an honest mistake anyway.

“I could have handled that,” she said, her tone not angry or irritated, but rather flat and resolute.

Drake frowned, confused. Okay, just a moment ago she had clearly been angry with him, and now she seemed guarded, pulling up a wall of strength. It made no sense.

“I have no doubt you could have handled it. I saw the gator deal. But I was just trying to help.”

“Well, don’t.”

She started walking again, and again he followed, although this time he didn’t rush to catch up with her. He couldn’t figure her out. In Madame Renee’s she had willingly accepted his protective touch when that letch Donald had been giving her a look like he’d like to eat her whole. Yet, he stepped in when some drunk dude was actually getting physical and she was pissed. Women were confusing at best. This one was utterly mind-boggling.

He started to hasten his pace to catch up with her, especially since she was going to walk right past Toulouse, when another man approached her. This man was tall and barrel-chested. Far more intimidating than the silly drunk.

What the hell? All this male attention was getting to him. She was definitely cute—well, beautiful if you asked him, but damn there were plenty of pretty women on Bourbon. Why did men feel the need to approach his lady?

His lady? Okay, where had that come from? And he needed to stop that kind of thought right away. Josie Lynn wasn’t even close to
his lady
. She could barely stand him.

Still he felt his protectiveness—and possessiveness, if he was being honest, rise up again like hackles on a feral dog.

“Hey Josie Lynn, how are you feeling tonight?”

Some of Drake’s protective concern tamped down as he realized the man knew her. Then he looked at Josie Lynn and realized from her puzzled expression that she had no idea who this man was.

Even though she’d just informed him she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, he moved to stand close beside her.

“Drake,” the man greeted, extending a beefy hand toward him.

Drake accepted in, knowing for a fact he’d never met this man before.

“I bet you’re feeling even rougher than this little one,” the man said, jerking his head toward Josie Lynn. “You two were pretty wrecked. And wild.”

The big guy smiled, but Drake didn’t sense any lasciviousness or even judgment in his grin. He’d genuinely found them amusing.

“Yeah, we were,” Drake agreed, really hating that he had no idea what he was referring to.

“Come have a drink with me before I start my shift,” the giant said jovially.

Drake looked at Josie Lynn, who shrugged. It probably made sense to do so, since clearly this guy remembered them from last night. And from his familiarity must have talked to them for quite some time.

“Sure,” Drake said and waited for the man to lead the way.

It shouldn’t have surprised Drake, but it did, as the man led them straight to The Dungeon.

They entered the dark entryway that seemed to be set up more like a novelty haunted attraction than a bar. The man led them through a few hallways to a back bar that was mostly empty, although the hard rock still pounded off the walls and made it hard to hear.

“What can I get you?” the man asked.

Drake ordered his usual whiskey, neat. Josie Lynn hesitated, then after an uneasy look around the place, asked for a glass of wine.

“So dude, you two had a pretty kick-ass night last night,” the man grinned with approval. He turned to Josie Lynn. “You are pretty damn feisty.”

Even in the shadowy light, Drake could see her blush.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get the better of Obsidian. Woman or man.”

Well that answered two suspicions of Drake’s. Yes, Josie Lynn’s run-in had been with Obsidian. And he’d been right to avoid that chick. She was scary.

He glanced at Josie Lynn, who looked embarrassed and bemused all at once. But she did seem to find her voice, having to practically shout over the music.

“Why did I fight with her?”

The man gave her a somewhat surprised look himself. Apparently he hadn’t caught on to the fact that they had no clue what had happened. For the entire night.

“She was trying to make moves on your man here.” He tilted his head in Drake’s direction. Then he frowned, his gaze moving over Drake. “Interesting outfit, buddy.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.” This guy clearly wasn’t terribly quick, if he had just noticed Drake’s look.

The man frowned at him a moment longer, then turned back to Josie Lynn. “You definitely put her in her place.”

“Then what happened?” she asked, her words coming out stiltedly as if she really didn’t want to know, but knew she needed to.

The burly guy grinned again. “Well, let’s just say a good fight seems to turn you both on.”

Josie Lynn reached for her glass of wine and downed half of it. Drake personally wanted to ask for more details, but he was pretty sure Josie Lynn would have turned her Cajun fighting skills on him.

Instead he settled for saying, “We didn’t cause too much of a scene, did we?”

“Nah,” the man said. “Nothing that hasn’t happened here before.”

Drake wasn’t sure what that meant exactly. He was pretty certain a lot of things had happened here before.

“And you two got interrupted by Zelda, before you got too hot and heavy.”

“Did we leave with her?”

The man nodded, gulping down his Jägerbomb.

“She said she needed to find her wedding dress. And her groom.” The guy chuckled, his laugh deep even over the pounding bass of Nine Inch Nails reverberating in the room. “In that order.”

Drake smiled, not finding that information as amusing as this guy did. Where had they gone after that? Zelda’s sex room? Or somewhere else before they ended up there? And how hot and heavy had he and Cupcake really gotten? Damn, he wished he remembered. Especially that last part.

“Oh shit,” the man suddenly said. “Looks like your nemesis is back.”

Both Drake and Josie Lynn turned to see Obsidian walk into the room. Tonight she wore even more black eyeliner than last night, obviously trying to mask a pretty impressive shiner. But it did little to hide the injury, especially since tonight she wore a purple corset that just seemed to bring out the black-and-purple bruise all the more.

She paused when she saw them at the bar, but strode into the room anyway.

“She must be a masochist as well as a sadist,” the giant said, shaking his head and pretty much voicing Drake’s own thoughts.

She walked over to the bar, taking a seat just one down from Drake. The bartender, whom Drake didn’t recall either, shot all of them a rather wary look before going to take Obsidian’s drink order. Clearly she remembered them, too.

“Maybe we should just go,” Josie Lynn said, making her voice loud to be heard over the music. But the song ended midsentence so everyone could hear her, crystal-clear.

“Yes, maybe you should,” Obsidian said wryly, but then she smiled invitingly at Drake. “You can of course stay. Surely you are bored with the company of some uncouth, backwoods Cajun by now. Only good for one night. And only good for one thing.”

She gave Josie Lynn a withering look. “If you’re even good for that.”

Drake stared at the woman. Maybe the reason he instantly had found her so unnerving at the wedding wasn’t because she was a whip-wielding domme, but actually because she was nuts. What the hell was she thinking when Josie Lynn had already kicked her butt once? Masochistic was right.

Drake then shot Josie Lynn a look, because he sensed her shifting beside him. This was going to get ugly. Josie Lynn had already been annoyed when she’d walked in here, and he suspected Obsidian’s goading was not going to improve that mood.

And Drake was right. Josie Lynn now stood. There was going to be another brawl, and frankly he didn’t think Obsidian was going to just luck out with a black eye. But instead of pushing out her barstool, and going over to the clearly non-too-bright domme, Josie Lynn pushed the stool aside and stepped closer to him. In fact, she didn’t just step closer, she placed her hands on Drake’s knees to get him to swivel toward her, then she stepped in between his spread thighs.

Drake had no idea what she was doing, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to stop her. She then placed a hand on either side of his face, leaned in and kissed him utterly senseless.

So senseless that it took him a moment to react, but when it registered that Josie Lynn’s full, soft lips were moving over his, he groaned hungrily and caught the back of her head with his hand, taking control of the kiss.

She made a small noise and met his intensity without hesitation. Drake wasn’t sure how long the kiss continued, but he knew it wasn’t long enough, and he was reluctant to let her back away from their embrace. But he didn’t miss the lust-hazed look in her sky-blue eyes, making them almost glitter in the dim light.