La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust

by Cd Hussey

  Slade clicked off the flashlight and set it on the bar. "When you didn't answer your cell, I got a little worried and came by to check the place."

  "Cell service is down."

  "Not anymore it isn't. In fact, it's been up for a few hours." Slade's eyes narrowed as he gave Armand a quick once over. "You have a girl upstairs, don't you?"

  It wasn't a question Armand was anticipating, and he didn't have a response ready. "Why do you ask?" he said finally, choking out the words.

  "First, you're running around half-naked and second, you've got some good marks on you."

  "What the fuck difference does it make?"

  "Shit, dude, no need to go on the defense. I don't care. I'm just happy you got laid. It's been long enough."

  "Well, thanks for coming by. I appreciate your dedication," Armand said tightly. "You can take off though. Bar's fine."

  Slade stared at him. "Holy fuck. It's her, isn't it? Miss vanilla princess. Jesus, Armand, what are you doing with that bitch?"

  Rage immediately consumed Armand. He slammed his fists on the bar, taking the aggression out on the old wood instead of jumping over it and putting his fists into Slade's thick skull. "Get the fuck out before I throw you out."

  Slade held up his hands. "Easy, man. Don't get your panties in a bunch over some broad. I'm just saying. She's bad news."

  "It's none of your fucking business," Armand growled, fire racing through his veins. Every muscle in his body was contracted as he fought the desire to tear into his friend. "Get. Out."

  Slade grabbed the flashlight. "Sure."

  Armand watched him walk out the main entrance before spinning on his heels and heading towards the stairs, his footsteps heavy with rage. He wasn't angry. He was seething.

  Maybe he shouldn't be surprised or even angered by Slade's comments. It wasn't like they weren't expected, but hearing the other man degrade the woman he'd just spent two of the most amazing and intense hours with sent his blood boiling.

  Why the fuck did it matter to Slade so much? Sure, Julia was an outsider to the Community, but everyone started out that way. No one was born a member. You had to be inducted. The only difference between Julia and the average newbie seeking to join the Sang Community was her outward appearance. Why the hell did Slade care if her skin was tattoo-free, or her hair color was natural, or her jeans were name brand?

  Slade was overprotective of the Community, for good reason perhaps, but being threatened by Julia's normalcy was ridiculous. It was even more infuriating that Slade hadn't had an issue with Eve, but Julia was somehow "bad news". The whole fucking business just pissed Armand off.

  He stopped at the stairs, unable to bring his legs to climb them. If he went into the apartment now, he'd taint the energy with the negative fury oozing from his pores. A walk was out of the question, and the only other viable option was to sweat the anger out.

  Choosing the door leading out into the courtyard instead of the stairs, Armand jogged barefoot across the wet bricks and up the stairs into the gym.

  He hit the punching bag first, filling the air with chalky dust and testing the strength of the I-beams that groaned with every swing of the heavy bag. When that didn't pacify him, he moved to the treadmill. Five miles passed pretty quickly. The steady pounding of his bare feet against the revolving rubber track and the sweat that coated his skin, helped ease some of the anger from his bones. He wasn't completely pacified, but enough of the edge had been taken off that he felt comfortable going back into his apartment.

  After grabbing a towel, Armand stepped outside. The rain was cold and refreshing against his heated skin. He didn't hurry across the courtyard. Instead, he took his time, letting the rain help wash away his worries.

  He loved it here, in New Orleans. He'd always loved it here. He was born here, grew up here. This was his home, plain and simple. None of the other cities he'd lived in could compare. Los Angeles had introduced him to the Community, and Paris had its own magic, but his travels had never taken him to a city that shared New Orleans' energy.

  Lately though, the city he loved felt off. But he couldn't blame the Crescent City for his discontent. The problem lay with him. Even before Julia showed up unexpectedly in the bar, looking lost and misplaced, even before Eve was murdered, Armand had begun to realize something was off in his life. The events of the last week merely reinforced it.

  Julia awakened a need that had been lacking in his life. Eve's death reminded him of everything that was wrong with the Community. Now, he had to figure out how to fix the broken pieces.

  Dripping, Armand stepped into the apartment. Toweling off as best he could with the soaked towel, he paused at the door to his bedroom. Curled up on the bed, Julia's soft, even breathing was a soothing melody and filled the room with her warmth. God, she looked beautiful, with her sleek brown hair fanned out over the pillow, and her smooth, lightly tanned skin contrasted against the black sheets.

  "Don't just stand there," she murmured unexpectedly. "Come to bed."

  "I'm sweaty."

  "I don't care." Pushing the covers off her naked body, she held her arms open for him.

  It was all the invitation he needed. Armand slipped out of his wet pants and into her embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around her. The moment she touched him, every last trace of anger slid from his body. Every negative thought banished, every tense muscle relaxed until only bliss remained.

  She buried her face into his chest. "You smell good," she said, the words muffled against his skin.

  Kissing her forehead, Armand rested his chin against her head, and closed his eyes. With Julia in his arms, it seemed so clear. He'd made the Community his sole focus for too long now. Julia's silky skin pressed against his, and the intense emotions that touch evoked, reminded him that there was another passion waiting for him.

  It was by choice that he assumed such a strong role within the group. There was an inherent dysfunction within the Sang Community, but it was one Armand could never completely solve. For years, he had spent a great amount of energy educating and promoting safety and responsibility for blood drinkers, but maybe it was time he accepted the issues facing the Community were too large for him to fix. And if he wasn't happy, he didn't have to continue. He could close the bar or merely step back and let another, Slade perhaps, slide into his position. It didn't have to be complicated at all.

  He did owe the Community a great deal. He'd found them during a dark time in his youth, and they'd welcomed him with open arms, helping him through rough times and becoming like family. For years, the Community had been his only family, and he was forever grateful. He might find severing the ties impossible, but there was no harm in weakening them a little.

  Julia's breathing settled back into the slow, steady rhythm of someone asleep, and he wondered if she'd truly been awake at all.

  * * *

  Julia woke to the most delicious aroma of cooking food and an empty, black bedroom. The only light filtering into the dark room seeped through the crack under the closed door. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and then another moment to stifle the elation that tightened her chest once memories from the night before danced through her head. Armand's silky black sheets were a cool caress against her skin, and if it wasn't for her growling stomach and the fact that Armand was out there and not next to her, she might not have ventured out of bed.

  After clumsily donning a plush gray robe hanging on the back of the door, she stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes under the harsh glare of artificial lights. At least the power was back on.

  "That smells wonderful." Her voice was thick with sleep.

  Armand smiled when he saw her. He was hovering over a skillet sizzling atop a gourmet stove. The kitchen was an extension of the large, sleek living room, separated only by a wide, granite topped island lined with barstools.

  "I was hoping you'd wake up. Are you hungry?"

  "Starving." She fidgeted with the robe lapel. "I hope you don't mind I borrowed yo
ur robe."

  Abandoning the stove, he came to her. "I can't say I'm not disappointed you didn't come out naked, but," he slid one arm around her neck, "it looks damn good on you."

  He leaned in for a kiss and she quickly covered her mouth with the back of her hand. "Morning breath," she muttered into it.

  "Stop," he said, pulling her hand away and pressing his lips against hers. The kiss was soft and tender as he gently sucked then bit her lower lip.

  "Good morning," he whispered after pulling back.

  "Morning," she replied, still lost in the kiss, her eyes closed, head tilted back.

  Abruptly he released her, and she stumbled to keep from falling.

  "Your breakfast!" In a few silky, smooth strides, he jogged back to the stove and stirred the contents of the skillet with a spatula.

  "I'm going to go freshen up a bit," she told him.

  "You do remember where the bathroom is?" He glanced back at her with an evil gleam brightening his face. "I realize you don't have a map..."

  She laughed. "I think I can find it."

  "Because I'd be happy to show you the way," he teased.

  "I'm sure I'll manage." Heading towards the slate bathroom, she shook her head at him. "You really like to give me shit don't you?"

  He paused, looking pensive. "Yes, I really do. Almost as much as I like giving you something else."

  She laughed again. "You're terrible."

  "I know."

  She looked like a wreck. Not quite as bad as the previous morning, but a wreck nonetheless. Luckily, she hadn't been wearing makeup, so it was only her hair that was a giant, fuzzy halo around her head. After using the bathroom, Julia splashed water on her face and attempted to finger comb her hair into something presentable. She didn't want to be too nosy and rummage uninvited through Armand's medicine cabinet, but she desperately needed something to erase the nastiness that had taken up residence in her mouth. Opening the front of the vanity long enough to spot a bottle of Listerine, she swirled a swallow around in her mouth and left the bathroom feeling like a new woman.

  A plate filled with steaming eggs, and a glass of orange juice were waiting for her on the granite bar. "That looks delicious."

  "Take a seat."

  As she hoisted her rear onto the barstool, Armand beamed at her from the other side of the island. "Aren't you going to eat?" she asked him.

  His grin was sheepish. "I already did."

  Oh, of course. Her.

  She took a bite. The smell wasn't deceiving. It tasted amazing, too. An omelet stuffed with mushrooms, broccoli, feta, and spinach, with hints of garlic and a pinch of curry. She took another bite, washing it down with some orange juice. For a vampire, Armand was a skilled cook. "This is great."

  "You like it?"

  "It's wonderful. Thank you."

  "You are welcome." He went into the living room and turned on the stereo. After a moment's thought, turned it off and clicked on the TV instead. She heard the weather forecaster come on and turned around just in time to see the storm cell skittering north from New Orleans: the red, yellow, green, and blue swirls dissipating as they traveled.

  "Has it stopped raining then?" she asked.

  He glanced at her. "I believe so. Or at least it's down to a sprinkle." He moved to the window, opening it and the shutters. The light outside was gray, the early morning sun just beginning to cut through the darkness of night. It wasn't raining, but the cool air that blew in was scented with thick moisture.

  "Wow, it's really early."

  "About 6am."

  She yawned. "I thought I was still tired."

  After closing the window, Armand shut off the TV and turned on the stereo. The volume was low, but it quietly filled the apartment with the same industrial music he played in the bar. He sat on the barstool next to her.

  "Your place is really nice," she told him, finishing up the last of the omelet.

  "Thanks. I had it remodeled a few years ago." She'd barely set her fork down, when he took her empty plate to the dishwasher. "It was in desperate need of updating."

  She glanced around the sleek apartment. From the spacious bathroom to the state of the art kitchen, everything was fresh, modern, and clean. Armand kept a very tidy home. "Well, you did a great job. And thanks for breakfast. It too was fabulous."

  He returned to the seat next to her. Gently pushing her hair aside, he asked, "How is your neck?"

  She hadn't even thought of it. At his inquiry, it throbbed. "Fine."

  "I'd like to check it out, if you don't mind."

  "It's okay, really." The look on his face told her he had no intention of taking no for an answer. "But, if you must..."

  "I must. Have a seat on the couch. I'll get my supplies."

  For someone who'd only obeyed when she'd begged him to bite her, she was surprised at how fretful he was over the broken skin. It made her wonder if the cream was some sort of vaccine against vampirism.

  Armand returned a minute later with the first aid kit he'd used the night before. Sitting on her left, he placed the kit on the coffee table, pulled out the jar of cream and a fresh band-aid. With tender hands, he tipped her chin away, pushing her hair aside and gently removing the bandage. He padded around the wound. "It looks alright. I don't see any sign of infection."

  She didn't know if the infection he was looking for referred to the normal kind, or the vampire kind. If it was the latter, she wasn't sure she wanted to be cured.

  The revelation was a surprising one, but the moment the thought popped into her head, she knew she wouldn't mind becoming whatever Armand was.

  He dabbed a bit more of the cream on her skin and then covered it with the band-aid. "I'll think you'll be fine."

  She leaned back against the couch, spying him from the corner of her lidded eyes as he returned the cream to its case. "I knew I would be."

  Turning back to her, his eyes suddenly locked on hers, and the small smile she wore slowly dropped away as the heat of desire washed over her. She met him mid stride as he moved in for a kiss, cupping her hands on his jaw as he slowly pushed her back against the couch. His lips left hers, trailing over her chin and down her neck, while his hand pushed the folds of the robe aside, exposing her breasts and instantly hard nipples. His tongue danced across her erect nipples, teasing, sucking, and nipping. She'd never been that into having her breasts played with, but Armand's sensual touch sent chills of pleasure through her, and whimpers of pleasure to her throat.

  Sliding smoothly from the couch, he knelt at her knees, his mouth never leaving her skin. He pushed the robe and her knees aside, easing his big body between them. His lips danced down her skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps and an aching throughout her entire body. His touch left her so aroused she actually had to force her muscles to relax, and practice breathing techniques to keep from exploding.

  When his lips met her core, she couldn't hold back the moan, nor could she keep her hips from pressing into his mouth. He responded voraciously, his tongue flicking and caressing her into a quick orgasm.

  He'd barely let her finish before his mouth covered hers in a heavy kiss. Pressing her knees further apart, he slid into her, his full cock catching the last wave of her orgasm and fueling it with new energy. Every stroke carried the orgasm further, the endless waves of pleasure refusing to cease until his orgasm met hers head on, and his body relaxed above her.

  "My God, you are amazing," he said in staccato between post-race runner breaths.

  "Me? I didn't do any of the work."

  He pressed his lips into her hair. "Trust me. You are amazing." Gingerly, he slid out of her, lowering to his knees and resting his head against her chest. He stayed there for a long time, until both breathing and heartbeats returned to a normal pace.

  "Julia?" he said finally.

  She felt so relaxed she could barely open her mouth, let alone her eyes. "Hmmmm?"

  "I'm exhausted."

  Strangely, she was too, even though it seemed like she'd slept al
l yesterday, and she knew she'd slept at least six hours last night.

  "Let's go to bed then."

  He smiled against her chest. "I thought you'd never ask." He rose, but she was so comfortable, she didn't bother to open her eyes. Every bone in her body had turned to mush, her muscles to liquid, and she and the couch were slowly becoming one.

  "I'll meet you there," she mumbled.

  Armand laughed and she heard him leave the room. She wanted to get up, she really did, but there was no commanding her body to do anything but lie there like a lump of clay. Armand returned a few moments later, and she made a half-hearted effort to rise, but he scooped her up before she managed to move a millimeter, swinging her up and over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

  That shook her out of the post-sex daze. "What are you doing?" she asked his back.

  "I've looked forward to lying with you in bed all night. I'm not going to let the couch steal my pleasure." He set her gently on the bed and climbed in next to her, pulling her into his arms and the covers over them. He sighed into her hair. "That's better."

  Indeed it was. She settled into his embrace, enjoying the scent of his skin and the warmth of his touch. This couldn't be any more perfect. She didn't want to go home.

  "Have you ever thought about moving to New Orleans?" he murmured just as she was drifting off. "I know the director of Public Works. He's looking for another City engineer..." His voice trailed off and his body relaxed against hers.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Once again, Julia awoke to a pitch-black room and the most amazing smell. This time though, it wasn't the promise of a delicious omelet tantalizing her nostrils, but Armand's spicy, earthy scent. He was pressed against her, his heavy arm draped across her chest, his breath soft and warm against her neck.

  Julia peered into the darkness, trying to capture even the teeniest amount of light. It was like a cave. No matter how hard she strained, she only saw darkness. It had to be daylight out there somewhere. As much as her muscles ached, and as stiff as her back was, she knew she'd been sleeping a while, but she was pretty sure she hadn't slept through the entire day.