Villere House (Blood of My Blood) (18 page)

"I know I shouldn't ask…"

"No, you shouldn't."

"But?"

Élise knew her grin matched Rosette's. "He is the most amazing man."

"I'm aware of that. What kind of lover is he?"

"Rosette!"

"It's a valid question."

"It's an inappropriate question."

"I know. So…?" Rosette pressed.

Élise bit her lip and then sighed.

Rosette laughed. "I knew it! Are you going to entertain him again?"

"Yes. Tomorrow." Squeezing Rosette's hands, Élise forced her smile to drop and gave the maid a serious look. "It must stay discrete, you know that right?"

"I'm no fool."

A boom, like the crack of thunder, shattered the air. They both looked around startled.

"What was that?"

Élise shook her head just as another boom sounded. "It sounds like cannon fire." She'd heard it during the war. She'd never forget the sound.

A sudden pit formed in her stomach. Nothing good came from that noise.

Releasing Rosette, she grabbed her robe. "Go to the children. I'm going to investigate."

~

"Lottie." Someone patted her cheek. "Lottie Boyd."

She blinked a few times, trying to put her brain back into her skull. At that moment it was floating somewhere above her, lost in the transition between Élise's world and the present. Her eyes slowly opened and the vampire Armand's face slowly came into view.

"Are you all right?"

"Um…"

"Here, let me help you up."

He slowly eased her to a sitting position. The modern décor of his apartment churned in a swirl of nauseating colors and textures.

"Where's Xavier?" She didn't bother asking what had happened. The bump on the back of her head and the askew barstool told her everything she needed to know.

"He never made it up here."

Fear flushed the dizziness from her head. He'd left with Julien, who was very obviously not right. He didn't even seem like the same man she'd first met in the store. Evil, cruel, filled with hatred.

She didn't trust him for a second. Not even with his own brother.

"I've got to go." She pushed to her feet.

"You might want to take it easy for a minute. I can check on Xavier."

She was pretty sure her brain was rattling around in her head as she shook it. At least that's how it felt. "I got it," she said, heading for the stairs.

Maybe she should have taken Armand up on his offer, but that same urgent tug pulled her down the stairs, out of the bar, into the courtyard, and right into Julien Villere. His grin was terrifying.

Swallowing the panic, she said lightly, "Hey. Where's Xavier?" She took a step backward but he mirrored her, maintaining their uncomfortably close proximity to each other.

"That's nothing you need to worry about. In fact, you should forget about him, about this city. We don't like you here."

We?

If she was frightened of him before, she was terrified of him now. His expression, his eyes, the tone of his words…evil, just evil.

She took another step back and he again took one forward. His body language was definitely threatening and even though he wasn't touching her, she felt trapped. He was so close, if she tried to run he could easily stop her. She had no doubt he would.

"Is he okay?"

"He'll live."

Oh God. Xavier. What had Julien done?

She had to get away. She had to find Xavier.

She was going to run. Maybe if she just bolted, she'd take him by surprise. And if he grabbed her she'd fight with every ounce of strength in her body. Aim for his balls, eyes, anything that looked soft and painful. She'd claw, bite, and kick if she had to. She just needed to run.

"What are you doing?"

It was Armand. He'd appeared out of nowhere and stood a menacing few inches from Julien. In the dim light of the courtyard he looked positively terrifying.

"You are not welcome here, Julien Villere," Armand enunciated the name like it a threat. "I assumed that was obvious."

Julien swallowed. She was shocked to see the fear in his eyes. She took the opportunity to move away. He didn't follow this time, clearly locked in place by the vampire's hard stare.

"I—"

"No. You will not speak. You will not make excuses. You will leave. Not just my property but you will also leave Miss Boyd alone. Is that understood?"

He nodded.

"Say, 'yes'."

"Yes."

"Good."

Lottie decided she'd watched enough. She slipped from the courtyard and down the narrow alley. When she emerged onto the sidewalk, her breath was once again sucked from her lungs. Slumped next to the building wall, like a homeless man passed out on the street, was Xavier, blood dripping from his nose.

"Oh my God!" She was in the process of kneeling over him, when just like before, the vision hit her, knocking her out of the present and into the past.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T
he panic in Élise's gut had spread to her chest by the time she reached the front door, squeezing her heart tight. There was no hesitation in her hand as it grasped the knob and turned.

What greeted her stole her breath. Lying in the street was Laurent, blood seeping from his chest.

"No!" She ran over to him, kneeling on the ground beside him. "Oh God." His shirt was already soaked through with red. "Oh God no. No, no, no, no, no, no."

What should she do? How could she stop this? Gingerly she touched his shirt. There was too much blood. It was beginning to spill onto the ground.

"No." It was a useless wail and she knew it. His wounds were too severe.

Gently, she touched his face. His lids slowly lifted. For a brief moment her heart lightened and then she saw his eyes. Those beautiful black irises were dull, the light behind them, so recently emblazoned with passion, dim.

"Élise…Mon amour…" His hand rose, slow and unsteady, to touch her face. She clasped his hand tightly to her cheek. "My beautiful love," he whispered, the words choked. "I am so sorry."

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes against the tears pouring from them. There had to be something...

"Élise, please look at me." His voice was weak. She obeyed, but her entire body trembled with the effort. To look at him was to accept his fate. "Given the chance, I wouldn't take anything back. I only regret…my son…and that I won't be able to love you for a lifetime."

"Please, Laurent, don't…"

But at once she knew her pleas went unheard. The remainder of the dim light drained from his eyes as the life oozed from his body.

It was hardly the first time she experienced death, but this was different. It felt like her soul was torn from her body as his soul escaped his. She didn't think she could bear the pain. Her body shuddered as every piece of happiness, every ounce of hope she'd dared to dream died on the street with him.

~

Lottie woke up sobbing. Her insides were broken, twisted into a million knots that tortured her guts. Élise's pain devoured her...devastated her...consumed her. She couldn't think, could barely breathe. It was a good thing her heart beat automatically or she'd be dead.

"Lottie?"

The warmth below her stirred. She couldn't see who, or what, she lay on. She could only sob harder.

Strong arms encircled her body. "Ssshhh, I know." Lips pressed to her head.

Voice recognition finally kicked in. Xavier...she was in Xavier's arms. She wanted to be happy he was okay, wanted to rejoice at his gentle touch, but could only sob, burying her face in his firm, muscular chest.

Keeping her cradled tightly in his arms, he sat up. She remembered—they must have been lying on the sidewalk. And now they sat on the sidewalk, her crying uncontrollably, and him holding her.

"I know," he murmured again, squeezing her tight.

If only she could speak, she would thank him, express her eternal gratitude for him. But there were no words she could utter, only unending, overpowering sorrow.

~

Xavier was pretty sure his heart was being chipped away with every choked sob, every shudder of Lottie's body. He'd do anything to take away her pain. Anything.

All he could do now was hold her. Hopefully, it offered some comfort. He knew what she ached for though, and knew he would never be enough. He would never be his grandfather.

Oops, there went another piece of his heart.

It didn't matter. Right now, only one thing mattered.

He stroked the silky strands of her hair, momentarily smoothing the wild curls. Her sobs were getting quieter but he was in no rush. As long as it took…

It was the first time since he'd come to that he was able to process everything that had happened. First, Julien was getting his ass kicked so hard whatever craziness possessed him would be expelled. He had never been violent toward his brother, but at that moment, he was ready to tear the bastard's arms off.

Second, living Laurent's death had been intense. And he'd thought experiencing the night with Élise was heavy. The
memory
had hit him right after Julien rammed his head into the wall. It must have to do something with the gifts they'd doused on the altar before leaving the house, and that Julien happened to knock him out right where Laurent had been shot.

The only reason he wasn't taking Laurent's death as hard as Lottie was because he'd been having dreams about his grandfather for years, even if he hadn't realized it at the time. This might have been a little less "uplifting" than the other dreams he'd had, but Xavier was more pissed than anything. If he could find the grave of the southern bigot who'd shot Laurent he'd piss on it.

Which wouldn't be enough but it'd make him feel better. Somewhat.

Her sobs had eased to muted whimpers with the occasional shudder breath thrown in. It wasn't perfect but it'd have to do.

"Lottie," he said quietly. "I'm going take you home, okay?" He meant the Villere Guest House, of course, but saying "home" felt so much more natural.

She nodded into his chest.

The position was awkward and it took a little bit of contortion on his part and his head throbbed with every movement, but he was able to get to his feet still cradling her.

Her cries had subsided and now she was perfectly still, too still. She remained that way the entire walk back. Almost like she was comatose. He didn't prefer the crying, but at least then he knew she was working through the emotions that came with Élise's memories. Now she just seemed numb.

He had no desire to go through the house—there wasn't a single person in his family he wanted to run into, except strangely enough, his mother might not be too bad. He still wasn't interested in explaining anything, so he headed for the side alley instead.

As he walked past the front of the store, something caught his eye—a bright, flickering light coming from behind the shutters.

"What the hell?" Peering through the shutter cracks confirmed his suspicion. Sanite's altar had been restored, complete with dozens of lit candles. There might be even more candles than before.

He'd have to take care of that, but not until Lottie was safely in the suite. Assuming the fowl feet did indeed offer protection as they seemed to.

He was still coming to grips with the idea that his great-great-great…aunt was threatening the woman in his arms. He still wasn't sure why though. Other than being related to Élise Cantrelle, Sanite Villere had no reason to hate Lottie. He understood why she might not care for Élise, since, according to his recurring dream, Sanite hadn't exactly been keen on Laurent hooking up with Élise in the first place. And then when it did happen, he was shot and killed.

But could Sanite really blame Élise? And why would she hate Lottie, who had absolutely nothing to do with any of it?

Women…

Lottie remained completely still even as he set her on the bed—staring off into the distance. It was not only beginning to worry him, he was beginning to become irritated by the situation, which in turn made him irritated with himself. He knew it was only jealousy fueling his angst, but that didn't make it any better.

"I'm going to run you a bath," he told her. Hopefully that would snap her out of her daze. Or make her feel better, or both.

Was it possible she wasn't exactly herself? Like Julien wasn't exactly himself? Pausing in the bathroom door he glanced back at her. Still sitting against the mass of pillows piled in front of the headboard, still staring into the distance, her beautiful face still troubled.

He had to wonder if it was actually Lottie on the bed, or Élise.

The chicken feet dangled from the shower-head, their painted toes curled and twisted. He plugged the tub and started the water. Right before leaving he covered the feet with a hand towel. He didn't dare remove them, but Lottie didn't need to look at that while relaxing in a bath.

She hadn't changed position, not even a millimeter. He sat on the bed at her feet and said her name. She grimaced but didn't move. "Hey. I got the water running." Nothing. He started removing her shoes. "Well, I guess if you won't take off your clothes, I'll have to."

Finally her eyes flicked to his. With a grin, he set her shoes aside and rested his hand on her smooth ankle. "Are you back?" he asked.

She didn't give him much warning. She stared at him for a brief minute, her eyes scanning his face, before leaning forward and pressing her lips to his.

What started as a soft kiss quickly became a deep kiss, and then her hands wrapped around his head and she was on her knees, body pressed close.

It wasn't—he didn't—he shouldn't—he couldn't stop...

Was it him she kissed? Or Laurent? Was she acting as Élise or herself? He had no idea.

One hand gripped her close and the other kept her just far enough away that her groin wasn't pressed to him. "Lottie," he gasped between kisses. "I don't know—"

Her tongue, firm yet sweet, slid into his mouth and he forgot what he didn't know. Or that he probably shouldn't be taking advantage of her vulnerability.

She managed to snake her body closer and her hand under his shirt. Between her hands all over his flesh, her hips undulating slowly against him, and her fiery kiss, he forgot everything that wasn't her.

Especially when she yanked off his shirt and her lips found their way to his neck, then his chest, then his stomach. When her fingers found the waistband of his jeans, his brain clicked back on. He wanted this, wanted her, but he needed to know she felt the same. That she wasn't just reaching to him to have a piece of Laurent.

He started to stop her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he was prepared to gently push her back when she moaned. "God, Xavier. I want you so much. I need you." Her blue eyes flicked up. "In my mouth. In me."

Well, there went the last bit of his brain attempting to hold out.

Which was good because his pants were unbuckled and Lottie's mouth was all over his cock. Good because making any decisions that didn't revolve around pleasure weren't even on the table at this point.

But shit, he was going to come if she didn't stop.

"Lottie," he breathed her name.

She seemed to increase her efforts. She added a hand in addition to her mouth, sliding up and down his shaft with perfect rhythm.

"Lottie, please."

Her other hand cupped his balls and that was it. This time when he said her name, it came out with a moan. He couldn't stop the wall of pleasure that burst through him and she seemed to welcome it, taking him deep inside her mouth.

When the last wave of pleasure shuddered through his body, she pulled back, delicately wiping the corners of her mouth. She glanced up at him, her big blue eyes sparkling, and grinned.

That snapped him out of his post-orgasm coma. There were still so many things he wanted to do to her.

Guiding her up until she was mostly eye-level, he wrapped her lips in a soft, warm kiss that quickly escalated into a heady, deep kiss. He could taste the sex on her tongue and that only excited him more. Soon enough it would be her sex he tasted.

She pulled back, coyly pulling off her cotton dress and then unhooking her bra. She bit her lip as she slid the bra straps from her shoulders. The moment her hands were free, he dove in for another kiss. She eased back onto the mattress and he followed, keeping her mouth firmly embraced by his.

It was his turn to explore her body. Starting with her neck and earlobes, trailing over her collarbones, down to her perfectly sized breasts and erect pink nipples. She moaned and arched into him. Fuck, with the noises she made just by him teasing her nipples, he couldn't wait to hear her come.

He stayed at her breasts for a while—thoroughly enjoying the way she squirmed as his tongue circled her nipples—before heading south, pausing briefly to enjoy her delicately curved, perfectly feminine belly.

Her panties came off with a quick tug. There was no resistance in her muscles as he pushed her legs wide, exposing the delicate pink skin of her sex, glistening and just waiting for his tongue.

Fuck, she tasted better than he imagined, and the way she moaned and twisted her hips as he lapped her clit and dipped in, out, and around, made him just want to devour her more.

She cried out as she came, shoving her hips into him. He loved it, savoring every last drop of her orgasm.

His cock was rock hard again. As much as he'd love to be inside her, he wasn't sure that desire was mutual. But as he rose from the glorious valley that was the space between her thighs, she reached forward and gently grabbed his member, guiding it into her smooth slick depths.

He about lost his ever-loving mind. Especially when she moaned his name.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deep inside as she ground her hips into him.

He closed his eyes. Jesus, the feel of her sweet, warm sex, the feel of her soft body rocking beneath him, the feel of her.

"Xavier. Look at me."