by C. D. Hussey
"Wow," Nikki said, leaning forward to get a better look. "That's even more impressive than it initially looks." Her fingers hovering inches above Clare's skin, she traced the lines of tattoo. "I love how the Persian miniature is incorporated into the pattern. Who did the work?"
"I designed it, but Troy at Skintasm in St. Louis handled the needle."
"You drew this?" Clare nodded. "You ever designed other tattoos?"
"All the time. I used to work there—at Skintasm."
"Really? You know, I've been looking for a new artist. I'd love to see your portfolio if you have one."
"Nikki owns the best tattoo studio in New Orleans," Slade interjected proudly.
"Judging by the amount of amazing ink in this room I don't doubt it," Clare replied with an enthusiastic smile directed mostly toward Nikki. "I can run and grab it if you like. It's in my car, but I'm just parked a block over."
"Please do. I have some business to take care of here, but I should be done by the time you get back." Slade and Armand had moved to stand behind her and loomed expectantly. Nikki glanced at them, they nodded in turn, and all three turned to leave.
"Sounds good…" As she watched the trio abruptly leave, Clare tried to keep the "what the hell" from her expression. She waited until they'd disappeared into the courtyard before turning to Kate. "What was that weirdness about?"
"Nikki is—was—is Slade's Donor."
"I'm not going to lie. I'm not any less confused."
"I'd be happy to take care of his blood needs, but with everything that happened…" Kate leveled her light blue gaze on her. "I assume you heard—about Lohr."
"I have." Clare felt a little ashamed admitting it since it was none of her business. She was a very open person, but she wasn't sure she'd want the whole world to know about her recent drama. And she'd only been smacked around, not tortured by some creep.
"Well, Slade doesn't want to overburden me with them. I told him I was fine, in fact with him I love it, but well, he's stubborn." The words were said with nothing but affection.
"Gotcha."
"It won't take them that long, you know. You probably should grab your portfolio. Slade wasn't lying. Nikki's shop is the best in town."
"Shit, you're right. I'd better hurry."
Clare loved working in a tattoo shop. She definitely needed a job and Nikki's place sounded like a great opportunity.
It was still drizzling when she hit the streets. Puddles of standing water dotted the sidewalks and roadways like a hundred Michigan lakes. Dusk had settled over the city, making the gray skies seem even grayer. With the rain, the streets were eerily quiet.
She found herself hurrying for a multitude of reasons: the rain, she was anxious to show Nikki her portfolio, and most importantly, she had a serious case of the creeps. It felt like someone was watching her, stalking her from some unseen vantage point. Like a building roof.
She immediately looked up, and then laughed out loud. Not only because the thought was ridiculous, but the only person who would possibly be stalking her was Chris. And he neither had the balls or the gumption, or even the initiative, to hole up on some rooftop with binoculars and a sniper rifle.
Okay, ridiculous or not, by the time she rounded the corner her beater was parked on, she was no longer hustling, but jogging.
The feeling of being watched didn't go away as she rummaged through her car. Sifting through the bags of clothes, knickknacks and various miscellaneous pieces of her broken life, she had this irrational fear that while her back was turned, while she was unguarded, Chris was going to grab her and drag her back to St. Louis and she'd be stuck in that tiny apartment with him while he dictated her every move, hacked her email account, followed her to work and then sat outside and watched her like a detective on a stake-out…
By the time she uncovered the box containing her personal documents, some sentimental sketches she'd drawn in high school, and the tiny amount of family photos she'd managed to save, she was on the verge of having a panic attack.
Pushing aside the photos haphazardly scattered in the box, she paused when she came across the last family photo taken before her mom died. Unable to resist, she picked it up. The picture was taken Christmas break her senior year. Julia was back from college. It was their first reunion since she'd gone away and Clare had been overjoyed to see her. Everyone had.
They all looked so damn happy in that picture. Who knew only one month later everything would change. Looking at the picture, it was hard to believe what a tool her dad would turn out to be.
After their mom died and their dad responded by removing himself entirely from the situation, Clare wanted to believe it was because he couldn't deal with the death. That he was so in love with her he couldn't bear to be in the house they'd shared for twenty-five years. But knowing the reality now—how he had two young kids, a new wife, and a strong aversion to his older children—she was pretty sure he'd been a dick hiding in awesome dad clothing all along.
Tossing the photo into the box, she dug to the bottom, grabbed her portfolio, shoved her things back into the car, locked the doors, and made a bee-line back to the garage/soon to be art gallery.
Nikki oohed and ahhed over Clare's illustrations, which was a great ego boost. Chris' constant barrage of insults had given her confidence a work out.
"Well I love your work," Nikki said, sliding Clare's portfolio back to her. "And if you want a job..."
"Yes. Definitely."
"Great." Nikki rose. "Come in Monday and we'll work out the details."
A job. It looked like she had a job. Packing her stuff and driving to New Orleans had been the first step to making the city her new home, getting a job would make it even more real.
A celebration was in order. After dinner and a little plotting with Julia, Clare changed into something worthy of a night out and made her way down to Luxure.
She joined Kate sitting at the bar. "Are you working tonight?"
"Not unless it gets really busy. Why?"
"Julia and I are going out. You should join us."
Kate glanced at Slade. "Don't look at me," he said. "I'm not getting in on that vagina party."
"Don't worry, you aren't invited," she told him. "I was only looking at you to see if you thought you'd need me."
He placed both hands over his heart. "Only to fill the empty holes in my soul."
Kate rolled her eyes and turned back to Clare. "Where are you headed?"
"Just Bourbon Street. I need the type of drunken debauchery only Bourbon can offer."
"I'm not much of a drinker."
"That's okay. I'll drink enough for both of us."
"Well…"
The door opening interrupted her. It was a bar, not a living room, so it wasn't like people coming in was some big surprise. Clare turned to see whose entrance would make Kate stop talking.
It was Angel. On the arm of a very good-looking, very masculine, very normal looking guy. He looked nothing like the men Clare had seen decorating Angel's arms the last time she met her. Broad-shouldered in a button-up shirt and jeans, he had tousled brown hair that looked like it belonged to a 1980s movie jock—the kind that stood up on its own without an ounce of product—and bright blue eyes that did a sweep of the bar like he was looking for snipers. Clare did not care for the way he looked at her, like she might be the enemy.
"Sorry, Miss Miller," he said to Kate. "No word on Lohr yet."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Detective."
"Trust me, I hate having to tell it to you."
"Hey Copper," Slade said. "I got those papers for you to sign. Want to come back to the office?"
The detective gave Clare a wary look before turning to Angel. "Go ahead," she said, kissing his cheek. "I'm just going to say hello to Clare, Julia Laroque's sister, before I join you." He glanced at Clare again before disappearing with Slade into the backroom.
"New man?" she wondered as Angel joined them.
"I guess you could say that."
&nb
sp; "He's cute."
"So I've noticed," Angel replied with a wink. "It's good to see you. What brings you in town?"
"I couldn't stay away any longer."
"New Orleans is a hard city to resist."
"Hey, you should join us." Angel raised her eyebrows in question. "Julia and I…and Kate," Clare gave the redhead a sidelong glance, "are going out for a night on the town."
"Sounds like a lot of fun, but…" Angel glanced toward the back room where Detective Hottie was with Mr. Muscles.
"C'mon. When was the last time you had a girls' night out? I know I desperately need it, and from what I've heard about the crap going on here, you both need it, too." Angel hesitated and Kate still seemed dubious. "Pleeease."
Angel looked her over, a little too critically for Clare's comfort. She lifted her hand to her mouth, casually trying to cover her still swollen lip.
"You're right," Angel said. "I could use a night out with the girls. What do you say, Kate?"
"It's Bourbon Street…" Kate replied with a groan.
Angel grinned. "Perfect. We'll be anonymous. It'll be like going on vacation."
From what Julia had told her, even though the famous street was only blocks away, the locals rarely ventured there. "C'mon, when was the last time you enjoyed a good frat party?" she asked Kate.
"Last year. In college."
"Gah. I forgot you were so young. Okay, when was the last time you watched me enjoy a good frat party? I might even show you my boobs."
Kate smiled. "Fine, I'll go. But I'm not holding anyone's hair when they puke."
"Fair enough." She threw an arm around each woman. "I'm so glad you guys are coming. This is going to be so much fun!"
"What is?" Julia stood in the doorway, the deep red of the velvet curtains behind her a beautiful contrast against her dark brown hair and tan skin. Wearing a black cocktail dress and platform heels, Clare was once again shocked by how beautiful she looked. Not that Julia hadn't always been beautiful, but now she was radiant. Plus, the plunging neckline of her dress was downright daring. A year ago, Julia would've been in a sweater and jeans.
Clare glanced at the other women. Actually, everyone looked great—Kate in a pin-stripe mini, black tank, and knee-high boots, and Angel in high-waisted shorts paired with a fitted white top and polka dot heels. Together, they represented a wide spectrum of fashion: classy, Goth, pin-up, and Clare in steampunk. There was even a brunette, a redhead, a blond, and a blue.
"Angel and Kate are coming with us."
"Fun." Something in Julia's tone told her "fun" wasn't actually the word she had in mind. And the cool way she regarded Angel told Clare she must have left out some details when recounting the previous week's drama.
She wasn't going to let it spoil the evening. "Great! I'm ready whenever."
"Just give me five minutes." Angel turned and headed for the back.
"Julia, you might want to put away the skunk eye," Clare said once Angel disappeared.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please. If your eyeballs could turn into daggers they'd jump out of your sockets and Norman Bates Angel. Anything wrong?"
"No. Everything's fine." Again, her tone and words didn't match.
"You're a horrible liar. Well, just save the bitch slapping for after I've had a few drinks. That way I'll find it entertaining."
Chapter Four
Kevin had his back to her when Angel entered the office, and jumped when she touched him.
"Don't be so nervous," she whispered in his ear. "I don't bite."
"That's not what I hear." The way he purred the words made her lick her lips.
He looked fabulous. All previous signs of fatigue erased, his rugged good looks and firm, masculine body made her want to tell Clare "some other time" and show him how much fun biting could be.
Slade cleared his throat, reminding them he was still in the room.
"Is everything settled?" she asked him.
He took the contract from Kevin. Membership for Luxure's unique services. "Yep."
"Good." She turned to Kevin "There is a slight change in plans."
"What's up?"
She glanced at Slade. "Do you mind bringing two shots? Flavor's unimportant." He took the hint and left the room. Once he'd disappeared she turned back to Kevin. "The ladies are going out tonight and want me to join them."
"Don't worry, you don't need to ask my permission. I'm not that kind of lover."
"Thanks, but that actually isn't it." He raised his eyebrows. "I want you to follow us. Discretely. I don't want the others to know you're there."
"Why? Oh... You're worried about Lohr."
"Maybe. But I'm more worried about Clare, Julia's sister. She showed up rather unexpectedly and I don't know if you noticed she's hiding a swollen lip."
He nodded. "I saw that. You think she's running from an abusive boyfriend or husband."
"I do. I know a night out will be good for everyone, but with everything that's been going on, it makes me nervous."
"You have amazing instincts," he said, pulling her into an embrace and kissing her gently. "Of course I'll follow you. It's been a while since I got to stalk a beautiful woman." His grin told her he was teasing.
"We'll probably get hit on…" They hadn't been together long enough to know whether Kevin was a possessive man or not. She knew from the other evening at Velvet he was a little jealous, but that had been perfectly natural and not overbearing.
"I'd be shocked if you didn't," he said. It was the answer she'd hoped to hear.
He kissed her again, slowly at first but quickly growing deeper. She loved the way his stubble irritated her lips, and it wasn't long before her body was pressed against his.
"Shots are up," Slade called from the other room.
Kevin reluctantly pulled back. "There's always later," she told him. "And if I get tipsy, there's a good chance I'll do things to you that you've only ever imagined." She nipped at his lower lip. "But only if your imagination is really good."
"I'm liking this 'evening out' idea more and more."
Taking his hand, she led him from the office. Two crimson shots were waiting for them on a stack of beer boxes. Slade was nowhere to be seen. Angel picked them up, handing one to Kevin and keeping the other for herself.
He eyed his with a bit of trepidation but looked at hers in general question. "I thought you'd arranged Donors through your studio?"
"I have, but I figured you would prefer not to drink alone. Besides, a little extra blood never hurts. Not for me."
He glanced at his glass again. "You are going to include me in your Donor rotation, right?"
"Of course. I'd drink from you every day if I could."
"You could…"
"I wouldn't do that to your body."
"I'm sure I'd be fine," he mumbled, still staring at the glass. "I know I've done this a couple times, but it still feels so strange."
"Would you rather drink live?" His bright blue eyes shot up to her. "Now that you're a member, we do have access to the blood room…"
"Are you serious?"
"I am," she said.
The memory of the one time her blood had been in his mouth sent a rush of heat to her core. She pressed her knees together, a gesture that didn't seem to be lost on him. His gazed dropped to her bare thighs and his brows pushed together.
"I would, um, love…"
"Here, give me your shot. I'll take it." He handed it over. As she prepared to tip the glass back she glanced at him in question. His expression was lustful, his eyes hooded. Apparently her drinking blood from a glass didn't bother him in the least.
Finishing the shots off quickly, she reentered the bar, putting the empty glasses into Slade's outstretched hands. He dropped them in a sink full of sudsy water and clearly labeled, "blood". Glasses for liquor and glasses for blood were not washed in the same sink. Or even stored on the same shelves.
"Do you ladies mind waiting a few more minutes? I need to
take care of something first."
"Not a problem."
"Slade, do you mind giving us access?" She was speaking in code, but knew he would catch on.
"Sure." After walking to the blood room door and unlocking it, he pushed it open. "I take it you don't need Armand's help."
"No. I'll be fine."
"Everything is sanitized. Please leave whatever tools you use out so I can get them in the 'clave."
"Of course."
"They know," Kevin said when Slade closed them in the room. He sounded defeated.
"Doubtful. They'll think we're here for me." Relief washed over his face. "There's no need to be ashamed, though. Not here."
"You're probably right. It's going to take some time getting used to."
"I know."
He ran a hand through his hair. In the short time they'd been together, she quickly learned it was a nervous habit, and increased in frequency when he was uncomfortable. His thick hair refused to be tamed, smoothing for a brief moment before springing back up in a rebellious sort of way.
Pulling his hand away, she replaced his fingers with her own, sliding them through the soft brown strands. Easing her body close to his, she continued to rake her fingers through his hair. "Relax," she whispered, exuding a calming vibe. He closed his eyes, sinking into her touch. "There's nothing to fear."
His hands wrapped around her waist. "It isn't easy."
She brushed a soft kiss over his lips. "You just have to trust me."
He nodded and opened his eyes. "So, what now?"
"Tell me where you want to take it."
His gaze drifted over her body, lingering on her thighs. "Somewhere that can be hidden with clothing," she clarified. "Unless you want everyone to know…"
"Not yet." He peeled back the edge of her blouse. "Anywhere?"
"It has to be fleshy."
He unbuttoned the top buttons of the blouse, pushed the fabric aside and then reached inside her bra and cupped her breast. He bent and nuzzled the rounded crest. Running his tongue along the exposed flesh he murmured, "I think I know just the place."