La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust

by Cd Hussey

  "Really? I loved it."

  He met her glass with his. "Well, cheers."

  "Cheers..." She couldn't believe he didn't care for the Absinthe ritual. Oh well, Jeff wouldn't have either. It was simply further affirmation that Dave was not the man for her.

  The Absinthe was amazing. It was very lightly sweetened and herbal in flavor, with a hint of licorice, or more likely anise, a taste of fennel, and a bouquet of other flavors Julia couldn't quite place. Whatever the combination was, it was delicious.

  "Do you like it?" Julia asked Dave.

  He shrugged. "It's okay, kind of like watered down Jagermeister."

  It was nothing like Jager. They weren't even distant cousins. The only similarity was the licorice, and that was like saying Twizzlers and strawberries tasted alike. "I'll stick with beer after this though."

  "Hmmm, well I love it." She took another sip, letting the medley of herbal bliss dance on her tongue a minute before swallowing. "Mmmm." She clinked her glass against his again. "Cheers, indeed."

  They stayed in the tiny bar for at least an hour. Slowly, costumed patrons filtered in, and by the time they were leaving, the place was packed. Most that came in were Absinthe drinkers, and Julia ended up polishing off a couple glasses while chatting up her neighbors, a tourist from New York, and a local that lived just on the other side of Decatur in the Marigny neighborhood. The conversation ranged from the history of Absinthe and its 20th century ban, to prohibition, to the legalization of drugs. Dave stuck around for a little while, but it was obvious the topics and opinions were a little too liberal for his blood, and after a bit, he joined Mike and Beth as they lounged at the outside tables.

  The Absinthe had an interesting effect on Julia. She could tell she was getting tipsy by the ease words rolled out of her mouth, but her mind felt incredibly clear, and in some ways, she almost felt hyperaware. It wasn't until she joined the others in the alleyway and found her balance somewhat compromised that she realized how tipsy she was.

  "Hey, are you guys ready? Parade should start in about 20."

  Beth jumped up from where she was peeling the label from her beer. "Absolutely."

  Mike took a swig of beer and peered into his now empty glass. "I'm ready, but let's get some 'to-go' drinks before we head out."

  "Sounds good." Dave turned to Julia. "Do you want anything?"

  She really, really shouldn't, but...what the hell. It was a great night to get drunk. No wallflower tonight, that was for damn sure. "I'll take another Absinthe." Dave started for the open door. "Wait, let me give you some money."

  "Don't worry about it," he said as he disappeared into the dark, crowded bar.

  Julia sighed. This evening had "date" smeared all over it and that wasn't her intention at all.

  "Oh, let him pay," Beth told her. "It makes them feel like real men."

  "I just don't want Dave to get the wrong idea."

  Beth shrugged. "It's his problem, not yours." She grinned. "Let him scramble to make you happy, and enjoy being hot."

  Julia laughed. "You sound like my sister." Reactively she touched her phone. She still hadn't spoken to Clare yet. Later. She'd worry about it later.

  The guys returned with three beers and Julia's milky green Absinthe in plastic cups, and they made their way towards Decatur.

  * * *

  Kicking his feet onto the coffee table, Armand closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the smooth, leather couch. He was beginning to feel guilty for abandoning the bar on such a busy night. Besides Mardi Gras, Halloween was their most lucrative evening.

  His guilt was misplaced and he knew it. The bar would do well whether he was there or not. He had plenty of help, and while Armand might tend bar from time to time, other than the services he provided to clients, he was merely a figurehead.

  It didn't matter in the end anyway. As long as his employees were taken care of, if the bar happened to have a bad year it merely became a tax write-off. He preferred that Luxure was a profitable business venture, and it usually was, but he had enough investments that it wasn't essential.

  Something else was bothering him.

  Eve.

  No one he'd talked to the night before had heard, seen, or knew anything. Not that he was expecting any confessions, but the answers he received were straightforward and honest, and no one's body language suggested he believe otherwise.

  The entire ordeal had him so disgusted he was questioning the value of the Community and his place in it. He wasn't sure if he could be a part of something that had such disrespect for human life.

  Still, going to the police wasn't an option he wanted to explore. Slade was right. The police didn't need to get involved until Armand has something tangible to tell them. Eve had been a promiscuous Donor and a frequent patron at Luxure, making a large number of his customers suspects. Implicating dozens of Community members in her murder just because they'd been involved, however briefly with her, seemed a serious breach of confidence. If he only had more information about that evening, he'd feel more comfortable speaking with the police.

  He should do more. He should have done more. That was all there was to it.

  With an exasperated sigh, Armand rose roughly from the couch and went to the window. Dwelling on mistakes made in the past never solved problems in the present. And as tempting as it was to wallow in his guilt, it was neither productive nor helpful.

  Sliding open the window, he unlatched the shutters and sat on the sill. The street below was empty and peaceful, but off in the distance, he could faintly hear the revelry on Bourbon St. It was usually quiet on this end of the Quarter, but the sound carried well on the moist night air. It was going to rain later, probably early tomorrow morning.

  A woman crossed the street at Royal, her vanilla perfume wafting up on the warm, balmy breeze. His thoughts turned unexpectedly to Julia. He wondered what she was doing tonight. Would she be at the parade?

  Everything about her was etched clearly in his memory, from her petite, slender form to her clean, fresh scent. She was such a simple, natural beauty with her brown doe eyes and sleek, chocolate hair. Nothing about her was over-done or over the top. She didn't wear too much makeup, her hair was soft and natural, her breasts weren't too big, the words from her mouth were honest, real, perfect.

  "Jesus." Armand rubbed his forehead. It was ridiculous to be so smitten by a woman he'd just met and barely knew. He didn't even know if she shared his attraction. In fact, all evidence pointed towards a conclusion that she did not. The incident in the oyster bar had made that painfully apparent. Hadn't he already decided to let it be? That her brand of female was better suited with another of her species, i.e. Polo Shirt Dave?

  And yet, here he was, imagining about how her hair would feel brushing against his cheek while she rode him to climax.

  He had to see her again. No matter what he assumed, he needed to verify if the connection he'd felt with her was real or not. If he didn't at least try, he'd spend his entire life wondering if he'd missed out on something amazing.

  Fueled by sudden determination, Armand rose from the sill, quickly latching the shutters and closing the window. Grabbing his coat, he clicked off the lights and headed out the door without glancing back. He may not be able to solve the issues within his community or Eve's death, but he at least had this one quest to cling to. He had to find Julia. If it took him all night, he would find her.

  Chapter Nine

  Wedged between a group of hipsters and screaming tourists, Julia somehow managed to hold down their spot on the crowded curb while Dave, Beth, and Mike went back to the bar to get drinks and use the restroom. By some stroke of unimaginable luck, they'd happened to find a section of Decatur that wasn't completely elbow-to-elbow packed, but the curb edge where Julia stood was still prime real estate.

  She was thankful for her oversized wig. It had deterred two screeching women from trying to reach over her shoulder for beads. They now stood beside her, beer sloshing from plastic cups as th
ey strained and clawed at the marchers in the parade, trying to get their cut of the booty.

  Julia was glad to be alone. It gave her the opportunity to enjoy the parade without the distraction of her associates. Beth was fine, but Mike was an ass and Dave liked to stand way too close. The feeling that they were on a "date" had intensified once they left the bar. On the walk over, the foursome paired off and Dave attempted to charm her the entire time.

  Even though she could certainly benefit from a man's touch, she had decided against following Clare's advice to sleep with him. She knew for certain he was not the love the fortune teller had spoken of, and would feel guilty having meaningless sex with him when he was clearly looking for more.

  Besides, there was only one man she wanted to be under right now, but there was zero chance of that happening.

  And unfortunately, unless she did something to stop it, the evening was leading up to that one, horribly awkward moment where Dave leans in for a kiss and she would have to reject him. She wasn't looking forward to it. Maybe she should have blown him off, after all. Now it felt like she was leading him on.

  Through a break in the floats, and past dancers wearing black capes and pale, cake face makeup, Julia suddenly caught a glimpse of Armand, standing isolated across Decatur and looking dashing in late 18th century costume.

  He was the last person she expected to see standing on the street. Never in a million years would she have dreamed they'd randomly run into each other again. And if he'd actually been looking her direction, she might have worried he was stalking her. But he was carefully watching the floats as they approached, his hands buried in the pockets of his frock coat, his expression distant, like he was more focused on some internal monologue than the parade before him.

  She couldn't help the smile that crept over her lips. He looked amazing. His dark hair was poofed, powdered, and pulled back into a ribbon secured ponytail, his blue brocade frock coat a perfect fit over his V-shaped torso. Even the ruffled stock-tie and silk, cropped trousers couldn't deter from his overt masculinity.

  With an abrupt shift in gaze, his hazel eyes swung to meet hers, and her breath caught in her throat. Had he felt her watching him? It wouldn't surprise her if he had. Heightened senses were common in vampire lore.

  She offered a shy wave, and his face curled into the most devious smirk she'd ever seen. Even from across the street, she could feel his devouring gaze cover every inch of her form.

  She wished she knew what part of her he wanted to devour.

  A float with a huge Paper-Mache Death at its bow rolled down the street, blocking her view. Beads and glow-necklaces whizzed past her head, thrown from the living corpses standing on a trailer decorated with dozens of tombstones. Dark, heavy techno blasted from speakers mounted at the rear of the float, and a mass of fire spinners followed on foot, weaving their streaming orange fireballs in intricate, spiraling circles.

  Maybe it was the Absinthe, but from the fire tracers cutting the night air, the pulsing Electronica beats, the beads, feathers, costumes - her head started to spin and the sidewalk joined it. It was no longer only the fire spinners that streaked past her vision. All of the surrounding images whirled around her, gaining speed until they were a blur of colors and light. She stumbled back, blinking against the images attacking her senses. It was like being in the carnival funhouse, only this wasn't fun, it was terrifying.

  Closing her eyes, Julia focused on her breathing in an attempt to steady the earth. She hadn't consumed so much alcohol to get the spins. In fact, she didn't feel that drunk, tipsy maybe, but not drunk. But the earth continued to slosh around her in an accelerating vortex that was threatening to suck her down.

  "Vous etes une femme dangereuse dans cette robe," Armand's decadent drawl suddenly cooed in her ear, yanking her back to solid ground. The swirling earth skittered to a slow wave.

  She gasped, partly because he surprised her, and partly because the sound of his gorgeous voice in her ears sent pulses of heat through her body. God, he would speak perfect French. She now regretted taking Spanish in high school.

  She turned to face him, relieved when the image of his beautiful face remained perfectly still. It wasn't the Absinthe that made the world spin. It was Armand.

  "How did you get over here so fast?"

  He just grinned, like the answer was some cherished secret. She was pretty sure she knew his secret.

  "Your Majesty," he said with a little bow. "You make a lovely Marie Antoinette."

  "Thanks. Although I doubt she ever wore a skirt this short."

  "She might have if she'd had your legs."

  She tried not to blush as she looked him over. "And you make a rather dashing Marquis de Sade."

  He cocked his head and almost looked...disappointed. "Is it that obvious? I usually have to explain that I am not the vampire Lestat."

  She laughed. Except for the lack of blond hair, he did make a pretty convincing Lestat. "You do have a copy of Justine in your coat pocket."

  His grin broadened. "Impressive," he purred. "Have you read it?"

  "I have," she admitted. "I was both disturbed and turned on at the same time. It was very unsettling."

  He leaned forward. "Now that's something I'd love to hear more about." Even more heat pulsed through her body.

  He glanced at her drink and took a quick sniff. "Are you drinking Absinthe out of a plastic cup?"

  She bit her lip. "I am."

  "I don't think that's allowed," he teased.

  "Are you the Absinthe police?"

  "If it means I get to take you into custody, then yes."

  The alcohol was making her as bold and confident a flirt as he was. Hopefully, it made her half as sexy. "Arrest me then," she said.

  His golden-green eyes locked on her, his face mere inches from hers. He was going to kiss her and she was going to burst into flames.

  "Julia?"

  She pulled back abruptly, shaking off Armand's spell and breathing for what felt like the first time in hours. She swallowed hard and turned to greet a confused looking Dave. "Oh, hey."

  "Your drink." He handed her the Absinthe, his narrowed eyes never leaving Armand.

  "Thanks." She had to swallow again to keep her throat from closing. The men were sizing each other up like a pair of dueling bucks. "Dave, this is Armand. He lives here in the Quarter." She turned to Armand. His posture had stiffened and his face was like a stone statue. If either man had fur, their hackles would be raised. "Dave is here attending the same conference I am," she added, trying to assure Armand that his hackles could relax.

  "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." All the formality in the world could not hide Armand's disdain. "Happy Halloween."

  Dave actually grunted, not even pretending to be genial. "Nice costume. So what are you supposed to be, Count Dracula or something?"

  Armand's tiny smile looked like it would crack his face. "Not quite," he drawled. His hazel eyes swept over Dave like he was the most insignificant insect on the planet. "Let me guess, you must be the sales prick from the Gap."

  Julia choked on her giggle, covering her mouth and coughing in an attempt to hide it. Dave glanced at her. "I'm sorry," she said, clearing her throat. "The Absinthe..."

  Dave looked back at Armand. "No," he said slowly. "I quit playing dress up years ago, when my Spider Man jammies no longer fit." Obviously pleased with his retort, Dave glanced at Julia with the most obnoxious grin on his face, like she was going to pat him on the back or something. Didn't he realize he had inadvertently insulted her?

  "How sad for you." Armand said coolly, calmly, and with a hint of pity.

  Dave's smile dropped and Julia had to bite her lip to keep hers at bay. He looked like he was attempting a response, but was luckily interrupted by Mike, who suddenly burst through the crowd. "There you are. Dude, where's my beer?"

  Mike trotted over with Beth in tow. He had the same reaction to Armand Dave had. He took one hard look at him and grimaced. Beth on the other hand ga
ve Armand a coy smile and approving bat of her eyelashes that sent Julia's hackles up.

  While Mike diverted Dave's attention and the brass band passing by in the parade overwhelmed everything else, Armand turned to Julia, moving their conversation away from the others.

  "I didn't mean to interrupt your date. I'll get out of your way."

  "It's not a date."

  "Your friend doesn't seem to think so."

  "I don't care what he thinks. Please don't leave."

  Armand glanced at Dave who was attempting to shoot him down with a glare. "I doubt I'm welcome in your little group."

  "Then we'll ditch them. But I do want to be cordial about it. They've been really nice to me and...I did invite them out."

  He didn't look convinced and Julia knew she had to make him stay. Suddenly, nothing else mattered, not hurting Dave's feelings or pissing him off. The only thing that mattered was keeping Armand within her grasp.

  "Please Armand, promise me you won't leave. I'm not here that much longer. I don't want to miss this opportunity to be with you." She meant to say 'hang out', but 'be' just slid from her mouth. It was more appropriate anyways.

  His brow knitted together as he studied her. "Ditch them, eh?"

  "Nicely."

  He inclined his head. "Always."

  "Maybe we could just go somewhere they wouldn't want to follow?"

  Armand considered it. "I think I know just the place."

  "La Luxure?" The prospect was both exciting and terrifying. There was no way Julia would venture there alone, but she'd feel somewhat safe as Armand's guest.

  Armand grimaced. "While I imagine it would be effective, it's not a good idea. There's another bar called The Cell that's close to Bourbon. It's similar but less...dangerous."

  That Armand worried for the safety of the others when he obviously did not care for them erased the last of Julia's fears and confirmed what she'd felt about him all along. He wasn't a danger to her or her colleagues.

  Suddenly, the idea that La Luxure was filled with vampires didn't bother her in the least. In fact, she was beginning to like the idea. It was intoxicating to be on the inside of some monstrous secret.