Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 5

by Sins-Flesh(lit)

  "So I see. Graceful, too." He winced inwardly at his sarcastic tone. What the devil was wrong with him? He never gave in to his emotions, especially where his constituents were concerned.

  Her expression turned annoyed. "It was an accident and it could have happened to anyone."

  "Anyone wearing a skirt that's too long, you mean?"

  Damn, there I go again.

  She put her small fists on her hips and cocked her head to one side. "Since when are you the fashion police? You probably own twenty suits, all in the same color and style. Black." She snorted. "That's original."

  He gave an exasperated sigh. "Look, I appreciate your bringing the envelope over." He ushered her toward the door, reluctant to touch her but desperate to get her away from him before he did something unforgivable-like kiss her. Or strangle her. Both were possible right now.

  "I need to ask you to leave. I have many issues I need to attend to post haste and I really don't need any help at this time. If I do, I will certainly contact you."

  She stepped to the side, her expression remote. The warmth and fire that had inhabited her eyes as she'd entered the room was now but a memory. Her gaze chilled his skin with its coolness. "Of course you will. As long as the task requires-how did you put it-my 'particular talents,' I believe?" She turned to exit the library. "Don't patronize me, Alexandre. I'm not a child and I'm fully capable of taking care of myself."

  "Sunni-" He followed as she stalked into the hallway.

  She ignored him. Throwing open the front door, she fled into the New Orleans night in a flurry of color and bells. The door slammed shut behind her.

  He dropped his head, fixing his gaze on the tips of his polished shoes. Silence surrounded him, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the far corner of the hall.

  Damn.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  "It isn't working." Sunni stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she completed a graceful sweep of the peacock's neck. The tube of henna moved along Maeve's skin in a slow, practiced arc, leaving the thick paste to mark a trail. The mehndi tattoo was taking shape; the peacock would be eye-catching when it was complete. Only the beak and a few tail feathers remained to be finished. She shifted her position and started outlining the beak. "What do you think I should do?"

  "Seduce him."

  Sunni's hand jerked. A sound of annoyance escaped her as the unexpected movement left a smear of henna in the wrong place. The beak now had a definite dip in the center. Great, a peacock with a cleft palate would adorn her friend's back. Setting the tube on a small table, she grabbed a cotton swab to dab at the bobbled beak before the henna could stain Maeve's skin.

  "Alexandre doesn't strike me as a man who can be seduced." Her friend, Jennifer Beaumont, lay on her stomach on a padded massage table a few feet away. Henna marked her left shoulder in a pattern of the sun and moon.

  "He's a man, isn't he?" Maeve asked. "If he has the necessary equipment and is of the proper sexual persuasion, he can be seduced."

  "Oh, I'm sure he has the essential equipment. He's just very...formal. The perfect gentleman, you might say." Jennifer shook her head as she reached for her glass of wine. "I've known him for years and I've never seen him even look at a woman."

  "Maybe he's gay," Maeve offered.

  Sunni laughed. "He's not gay, just reserved." She leaned back to inspect her clean-up job. That looked much better, like a real beak.

  "Very reserved," Jennifer agreed.

  "He's gay." Maeve reached for her glass of wine.

  "Quit moving." Sunni poked her in the shoulder with a finger. "He's not gay. Maybe he's shy?"

  "Uh huh, that's probably it, he's shy." Jennifer nodded.

  Maeve emitted a disbelieving snort.

  Sunni dropped the cotton swab into a trashcan and leaned over her friend's back once more. Picking up the tube, she continued the finishing touches on the beak and neck.

  "About thirty years ago there were rumors of him with a woman," Jennifer mused.

  "Who was it?" asked Maeve.

  "You won't believe this, but it was Cassiopeia."

  Sunni stifled a groan as she bobbled the beak once more. Annoyance streaked through her. Next time, no talking while working.

  "Really?" Maeve laughed. "I don't know Alexandre well at all, but that's an unlikely pairing, if you ask me."

  "Me, too. Mac mentioned once that it was short-lived and ended amicably. It broke off when she ascended to the Council. Knowing Alexandre, he decided it wasn't proper to have a sexual relationship with a fellow council member."

  Sunni gritted her teeth as jealousy burned under her skin. If Jennifer was correct and Alexandre had had an affair with the outlaw, this was yet another reason to hate the lovely Cass.

  "I still think Sunni needs to try seducing him," Maeve offered.

  "I've never actually tried to seduce a man."

  "That's the problem. You need to learn how, my dear." Jennifer reached for the wine bottle.

  "That's easier said than done." Sunni shrugged. "I've never been the seductress type."

  Maeve shook her head. "You're a woman. You can learn."

  "Well, I haven't managed it yet. I grew up in the early twentieth century. Women rarely voted, let alone seduced men."

  "When did you become a vampire?" Jennifer refilled her glass, then Maeve's.

  "Nineteen-thirty-eight, I was twenty-five."

  Maeve snorted. "A twenty-five-year-old virgin?"

  "Times were different then."

  "No kidding." Maeve's tone was wry. "What happened in the sixties? Didn't you learn how to handle men in the age of free love?"

  "Well, no. It was the age of free love but I wasn't very free with it." Sunni dropped the empty henna cone into the trash and reached for a fresh one. Clipping the tip with a small pair of scissors, she started detailing another feather. "It just never seemed...right, I guess. I wanted more than just emotionless couplings."

  Maeve whipped her head around, her face registering disbelief. "Are you saying you've never had sex?"

  "Damn it, Maeve." Sunni reached over and shoved her friend back into her previous position. "You keep moving around and your peacock will look like a molting chicken." She snatched another cotton swab to repair the damaged feather.

  "Are you?" pressed Jennifer.

  "I never said that." She dropped the swab in the trashcan and reached for another. "I'm not a virgin. How could I have stayed chaste for over sixty years?"

  "Not very easily," Maeve drawled.

  "Okay, Sun." Jennifer placed her glass on the table with the mehndi supplies. "What do you want to accomplish with this seduction?"

  Uncomfortable, Sunni shrugged. She could barely remember a time when she hadn't been in love with Alexandre. Since the day they'd met in 1947 when he'd rescued her from a gruesome death by sunshine, she'd been head over heels in love with him.

  She frowned. There was definitely something pathetic about being in love with the same man for so many years and never making a move. He barely knew she existed, and it was her own fault. She'd been too much of a coward to make a move. Until now.

  She discarded the swab and straightened. The time had come for her to muster her flagging courage and deal with him once and for all.

  She took a deep breath and spoke in a rush. "I either want a relationship with Alexandre or exorcise him from my life forever."

  "A relationship?" Maeve asked. "You want a relationship?"

  "What's wrong with that? You're in one now." Jennifer grinned. "Quinn has certainly tamed the angry woman that was once inside you, my dear."

  Maeve sighed, her tone dreamy. "And then some."

  "Back to Sunni's problem." Jennifer looked at her. "Knowing Alexandre, you'll need to be subtle."

  "I still think he's gay," Maeve grumbled.

  Jennifer ignored her. "You need to take him by storm. Seduce him, but make him think it's his idea. A subtle yet ruthless assault on his senses."


  Sunni bit her lip as she contemplated the idea. Could she seduce Alexandre?

  Not in a million years...

  She shook her head. "It doesn't sound like something I can do."

  "If you want something bad enough," Jennifer said, "then you'll do anything to get it."

  "Try showing up naked. That seems to work for most men," Maeve said. "After that, getting him into bed will be the easy part."

  "I don't know how," Sunni wailed, narrowly managing to not stomp her foot. "I just told you guys that my education was stunted in this arena."

  "That's an understatement if ever I've heard one," Maeve said.

  "You're not helping," Jennifer ground out.

  Maeve rolled her eyes.

  "We need to come up with a plan." Jennifer's expression turned thoughtful. "Let's think about this. In a woman, what would appeal to a man like Alexandre? What would he value in a potential mate?"

  "Well, if he had a relationship with Cass, let's take a look at her. Other than poor judgment and the penchant for treachery, what positive qualities does she possess?" Maeve said.

  "She's beautiful." Sunni picked up the henna tube and reapplied herself to completing the peacock.

  "Very. But so are you." Jennifer eyed Sunni's short blonde locks. "You're as light as she is dark."

  "Cass is very beautiful. Polished." Maeve held out her hand and counted off as she spoke. "Intelligent."

  "So is our Sunni. Even though she tries to hide those long-haired books she reads." Jennifer nodded toward the slim volume of Rimbaud half-hidden under a hastily tossed towel. "I cannot imagine why you'd do that."

  Sunni ducked her head. As a child, her mother had pounded the idea into her head that men didn't like intelligent women. While she knew it wasn't true, such ingrained habits were hard to toss aside.

  "He strikes me as someone who appreciates subtlety in a woman," Maeve offered.

  Jennifer nodded in agreement.

  "That's pretty much the last thing I am." Sunni sat back to admire her handiwork. One more feather and it would be done.

  "We'll have to work on that," Jennifer said.

  "No, we don't have to work on anything." She drew the spine of the feather in a graceful dip, following the gentle curve of Maeve's own spine.

  Under normal circumstances she loved nothing more than to lose herself in a mehndi design. The traditional Indian patterns were her favorites, but she enjoyed the free hand designs her clients often requested. Unfortunately, with her two friends in the shop and the recent downward spiral of their conversation, there was no way she could lose herself to the creation of her design this time.

  "I've got it." Jennifer sat up, swinging her slim legs off the side of the table.

  "What?" Maeve raised her head, forcing Sunni to shove her flat once more.

  "You need to make yourself indispensable. Alexandre values goals, logic and intelligence above everything else, even beauty. He's a man of science. That is the language he speaks."

  A quiver of excitement ignited in Sunni's stomach. This could very well be the answer to her dilemma. If she could make herself indispensable to Alexandre, maybe then he'd look at her as something other than a silly woman with more hair then sense. She knew she was intelligent; now she had to clue him in on the fact.

  She nodded. "You might be onto something-"

  Maeve shook her head. "I disagree. Sunni is definitely not a woman of science. She's more a child of nature. No offense, my dear, but you don't think before you speak and you never look before you leap."

  Stung, Sunni straightened. "That's not true." She tossed the cone into the trashcan. "I do think before I speak. I simply choose not to censor myself."

  "Which gives people the impression that you're a bit...flighty," Maeve replied. "You've just illustrated my point."

  "Yeah, well... some people don't know how to have fun." Sunni stepped away from the massage table, the peacock complete. "Now don't move. We have to let this dry before you can get up."

  Maeve raised her head. "How long do I have to lie here?"

  "At least three hours."

  "I have to go to the bathroom," she wailed.

  Sunni shot a pointed look at the wineglass and the almost-empty wine bottle. "You should have thought of that before you guzzled all the wine. Besides, that's what you get for calling me flighty." She grinned as Jennifer burst into laughter and Maeve's scowl deepened.

  Revenge was sweet, indeed.

  The New Orleans night surrounded him like a humid blanket.

  Alexandre inhaled the thick air, scented with the sea and the crush of humanity on Bourbon Street. Brightly dressed crowds moved along the legendary street, imbibing Hurricanes and partaking of the eclectic mix of music, which poured from the nightclubs scattered along the avenue. Mardi Gras. There was nothing like it in the world. Drunken revelers dancing in the streets, women flashing their breasts for strands of cheap beads. It was cheap, tacky and ill mannered.

  It was good to be home.

  He moved down the street, weaving between groups of bewildered tourists and drunken partygoers. Normally he'd find a place to watch, unobserved. Nothing intrigued him more than humanity, and he considered himself a scholar of such creatures. As a vampire hundreds of years old, he barely remembered how it felt to be mortal. Some memories stuck in his mind, such as the warmth of the sun on his skin, the sensation of eating food, the heady effects of a bottle of fine merlot. But now that's all they were-mere shadows of memory. By studying humanity, though, he maintained a tenuous grip on his sense of former self.

  However, tonight he had no time to linger.

  He stepped into the street to avoid a couple of drunken men as they staggered down the sidewalk. Stepping back onto the walk, he continued his journey, ignoring the brightly colored store windows and the raucous music. Barely clothed women danced in the windows of one nightclub, trying to entice men to come inside, and he barely spared them a glance.

  Raphael was waiting and Alexandre could only hope that the young vampire had the information he sought. In the past twenty-four hours, two disturbing deaths had occurred in the city. Both vampires, each younger than fifteen vampire years, had been found dead, their bodies charred beyond immediate recognition. So far, nothing had surfaced as to the cause of their deaths. Was it murder? Suicide? Something else?

  Alexandre suppressed his frustration at how little he knew of the situation. Younger, streetwise vampires were reluctant to give information to an elder such as himself, and it was this information that he needed in order to get to the bottom of the situation. Without Raphael, he knew he'd be going into the situation blind. The young vampire could gather information that few others could as he'd lived in New Orleans for all of his vampire life. He could certainly get information that Alexandre wasn't privy to.

  A peculiar sensation, not unlike that of a low-voltage current, rippled across his skin, bringing him to a halt. He raised his head and scanned the area with his vampire senses. The noise of Bourbon Street faded into the background as he concentrated.

  Another vampire was nearby.

  A hapless pedestrian plowed into him from behind and Alexandre didn't flinch. The man staggered around him, muttering under his breath in slurred tones as he continued down the street.

  Alexandre scanned the area to pinpoint the vampire's location, his gaze coming to rest on a brightly lit storefront across the street. Bold golden letters were scrawled across the front:

  S S Designs

  Tattoo and Mehndi Artists

  The vampire was within.

  He stepped into the narrow, congested street and moved toward the store. Looking through the window, he scanned the room, his eyes narrowing as he found her.

  Sunni.

  He glanced at the window again and noted the smaller lettering, Sunni and Sasha, Owners and Resident Goddesses.

  He frowned and turned his attention to the occupants of the tiny room. Sunni wore yet another messy-looking skirt, this one in the pales
t of pink swirled with streaks of gray. A slim- fitting tank top in matching gray completed her ensemble. She sat on the edge of a massage table, swinging her bare feet as she spoke to a massive, tattooed man seated in what resembled a dentist's chair. Another woman stood beside him, working a tattoo centered on his right shoulder.

  Sunni's golden hair gleamed in the bright lighting and she gestured with her hands as she spoke, her expression animated, her eyes sparkling. Her nails were painted shell pink. Her fingers were bare of rings save one on her left index finger, the jewel a blood red.

  The oversized customer grinned and said something that caused Sunni to shout with laughter, her entire body vibrating in merriment.

  The sounds of her mirth reached his acute ears through the glass. He watched as she tipped her head back, exposing her soft throat to his gaze before bending double. One of the first things he'd ever noticed with Sunni was her propensity for laughter. She was almost always merry and laughing was a whole-body experience for her. He hadn't spent much time with her, but he'd lost count of the number of times when he'd see her bent double with glee.

  He watched as she sat upright, her eyes dancing. She licked her lips and his groin tightened. He wondered if she was that unrestrained in bed.

  Down, boy.

  Annoyed, he swung away from the window and continued down the street, his stride lengthening as he shouldered drunken revelers out of his way.

  What was it about her? Sunni wasn't anything he looked for in a woman. She was blonde; he liked dark hair. She was tiny; he preferred tall, statuesque women. She didn't seem to be terribly bright; he admired intelligence. She had the maddening habit of laughing at everything, even herself. To her, everything was amusing. It was rare that he'd ever seen her completely serious. And the most maddening of all, she was never quiet. Even her jewelry was noisy.

  Lately he'd been thinking about having another affair. It was long past time. It had been too many years since his ill-fated liaison with Cass. His mouth tightened. That had certainly turned out to be a huge mistake as she'd betrayed him in the worst possible way. She knew too much about him and had almost managed to bring about his downfall and that of the Council. Never again would he open his heart and, more importantly, his mind to another woman.