Hunger (Witches of the Big Easy Book 2)

by Ts McKinney

  “Hey, Gabriel. You have a couple of visitors,” she glanced over her shoulder and added, “that don’t seem to be willing to take ‘no’ for an answer. I tried to explain that you’ve requested no visitors, but they—”

  She never got to finish before the door was shoved the rest of the way open, and Rafe, Nic’s future brother-in-law, waltzed into my office. Close on his heels was Detective Gage Arseneau, the police detective who’d been involved with the latest Delessard fiasco. He was, from what I’d witnessed and heard, Rafe’s latest bed-buddy. No, I’d actually heard they were in love and in a committed relationship, but I refused to believe it. Fuck, if an arrogant ass like Rafe Delessard could find someone to love him, surely even I had a chance?

  Rafe was one of the most annoying creatures on the face of the earth. I’d spent most of my life hating him and the rest of his family, but with Nic’s latest head-over-ass fall for the eldest Delessard, it looked like I was going to have to at least put forth some effort to drop my hatred down to severe dislike.

  “Oh. My. God.” Rafe burst out, a rude laugh erupting from his lips. “Ça va, Gabe? You look horribly lonesome. Are you sitting around your glitzy office pining away for your big brother? So you’re back in charge of New Orleans now that Nic’s gone, huh? Are you sure you’re not in over your head without Nic here to tell you what to do, Gabby?” He plopped his tall, lean frame onto one of the chairs in front of my desk and casually threw his leg over the arm of it.

  Nope, he was staying firmly entrenched in my hate column. Gabby? Was he being serious? My magic was twice as potent as his. I felt the urge to send him a little zap through the ether just as a reminder, but for the sake of keeping peace I let it go.

  I leaned back in my chair and regarded him through narrowed eyes. “Ça va bien, asshole. And keep your mouth shut about things you can’t begin to understand,” I snapped irritably. “Some of us still have responsibilities to our great city and take them seriously.” I frowned at him. “Are you even capable of doing that? Fuck, Rafe, are you capable of doing anything?”

  “Blah. Blah. Blah,” he countered in a bored voice. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s adorable. You pretending to be the head Législateur is cute—cute as hell.” He turned to look at his detective friend. “Don’t you think so, Gage?”

  “Sure,” Gage answered in a bored tone. “You know what’s even cuter? Two grown men acting like high school boys.” His eyes narrowed as he looked us both up and down. “There’s been another murder and for some dumbass reason I felt the urge to let you all know about it. And by the way, whatever games the two of you are playing with my head, I’d prefer you stopped. If either of you want inside me, let’s try it a different way, shall we? I have much more fun suggestions other than these magical head games you two play.”

  I choked on my laughter when I noticed how pissed off Rafe got over Gage’s joke. Possessive much? There was no lying about it, I enjoyed seeing Thibeau’s younger brother getting his chain yanked. At one time, early in the shitshow that just happened between Nic and Thibeau, I’d felt like there might be a spark between me and Rafe—like a spark where you dislike somebody so much that you start believing they’d be fucking awesome in bed. That’d quickly changed. Rafe and me…it would never happen.

  “What’s happened, Gage?” I interrupted before a pissing contest between me and Rafe started up—one he couldn’t win but seemed to always enjoy engaging in. “Why do you think the latest Quarter murder would interest me and Rafe?”

  Despite his objections to us “being in his head,” I started to compel him right away and my compulsion of Gage took him over immediately. Compulsion was the act of creating an irresistible urge in someone to behave in a certain way, especially against that person’s own conscious wishes and desires. For me, compelling a human and bending him to my will was especially easy, and I wanted to make sure he told me everything he knew about what was going on. I no longer had time for games. With Nic back in New York, the responsibility of being the Législateur in charge of New Orleans was mine, and I took the job seriously. I might be younger than Nic, but no less devoted to our calling.

  “There’s been two recent murders in the Quarter that had magical implications. The first victim, Madame Babet LeBouvier, a trumped -up tarot card reader and conjure woman who styled herself as a Voodoo priestess or Bokor, was found with her throat slashed from ear to ear. Clutched in her hand was a voodoo doll. The poppet was sprinkled in blood, but testing has proven it wasn’t her blood, nor does it match any DNA in the police data base. I didn’t link it to dark magic, with all the hints of voodoo magic that thrives in the French Quarter, but another body was found this morning—same sort of poppet doll, same mysterious blood sprinkles, and yet another infamous denizen of the Quarter.”

  Gage’s eyes were slightly glazed over as my magic controlled him, but I could also see him struggling to break through the invisible restraints. The fact that he was capable of even that small amount of defiance told me there was some sort of magical blood flowing through his body, even if it was ninety-percent dormant. He was probably a léger. That literally translated to “lightweight” and it referred to his latent powers, and not his personality or his body. It meant that he wasn’t exactly a witch, but he had some latent magic in his bones and blood. Most Cajuns did, and Gage definitely had some Cajun blood in his veins. “Who was the other victim, Detective Arseneau?”

  “Baptiste Chameu,” he answered. “Slaughtered in the same way as LeBouvier.”

  The detective collapsed in the nearest chair, his body exhausted from fighting my compulsion. Rafe looked at me in anger. “What are you trying to do, Gabriel? Fry his brain? Back the fuck off!”

  I shrugged. “He shouldn’t fight me.”

  “No, he shouldn’t be able to fight you,” Rafe answered with a sneer. He gave Arseneau a proud glance. “Either way, it sounds like you have your hands full with a new job. Madame LeBouvier was a very popular voodoo priestess and Baptiste Chameu belonged to a coven that rules the east side of the Quarter. The latest murders are direct attacks on our kind. Handle it, baton,” he growled. “Your family has loved to toss the title and power around for centuries, so here’s your chance to finally do something productive with your authority.” He stood up and placed a protective hand on Gage’s shoulder. “Just do it in a way that won’t get Detective Arseneau in trouble or place him in danger.”

  “Awww, how sweet,” I said. “And here I was, thinking you were incapable of caring about anyone other than yourself.” I stood up and closed the distance between us. “Stand aside, Rafe. You know what I have to do here. Don’t try to interfere.”

  Before Rafe could argue, I grabbed the detective’s hands and linked us together through magic. As I felt his soul mingle with mine, I released another surge of power through both of us. Using my magic, I searched through his mind, finding and memorizing every detail he’d gotten from the murder scenes. The details were both gruesome and troublesome—the murder scenes horrendous. Not only had two members of the magical community been murdered, but they’d been tortured and butchered. Where they should have been capable of fighting off whatever dark magic that attacked them, they’d both been virtually defenseless.

  Odd…Rafe’s magic swirled inside of the detective. Hmmm.

  Having gathered all the information Detective Arseneau had saved in his memories, I disconnected our link and stepped away. Rafe grumbled about what an asshole I was but remained somewhat passive…which was, I guessed, a huge step for him.

  “Damn, my head hurts,” Gage hissed as soon as the link disappeared. He looked around the room, eyes landing on me and then Rafe, and an irritated growl rumbled in his throat. “Stay out of police business, both of you. I only told you because of that fuckery you’ve done to my head.” With that, he spun around, exited the office, and placed an extra emphasis on slamming my office door.

  I chuckled. “That must be incredibly frustrating for him—doing things and not knowing why you did
them.”

  “That’s borderline abuse of your power, baton,” Rafe countered. “He’s human. Toying with him is off limits.”

  Cocking an eyebrow, I countered with, “I feel confident I’m not the one wanting to toy with him, brat. That’s all on you. As for the other, it’s my responsibility to protect our kind and prevent the use of dark magic.” I felt my eyes glow with power. “And trust me, those murders were certainly the use of dark magic.”

  “Then handle it,” Rafe growled as he turned and strode out of my office, putting an extra spring in his step so he could catch up to Detective Arseneau. It was just as well. I had a job to do and didn’t need either of them interfering with it. They were birds of a feather to my mind—both of them a pain in my ass. If they were truly an ‘item’ like the rumors insinuated, maybe they’d disappear to do some nesting.

  ****

  Marchand

  “I’m not in the mood, Dominic,” I explained. “Maybe later tonight.” I tried to shrug off Dominic’s hold on my arm without being too obvious, but my gesture proved futile—he held me even tighter and pulled me against him. What should have probably turned me on, since he was my fiancé and all, caused a strange feeling to form in the pit of my stomach; it felt…greasy. Wrong. Deadly. It hadn’t always felt that way, but as each day passed, my feelings toward Dominic became more and more like hatred instead of love. I hated myself for it but still couldn’t change what was in my heart.

  I looked around the store, hoping for customers, but the shop was empty except for one man who lingered in a far corner, his back to me and not paying either of us any attention. From where I stood, I could see him toying with one of my handmade poppets. Another strange feeling slithered through me as I watched one of his fingers play with the criss-crossed thread where the mouth of the doll should be. Danger, perhaps? I couldn’t identify it and doubted the man was dangerous, but it had still been the first thought to pass through my mind.

  “You’re never in the mood any more, Marchand!” Dominic growled in frustration. His cock, hard and heavy, pushed against my lower stomach, demanding attention that I wasn’t interested in giving. “We used to fuck like bunnies but now you seem to have a fucking headache every time I’m around you.” He stepped closer, crowding me even more. “What’s wrong, March? Thinking of trying to leave me?”

  You can never leave him!

  The denial tore through my skull as soon as Dom said the words. “No, of course not. I—I just don’t feel well. Maybe I’m coming down with something?” Although the words were nothing more than a lie, I tried to make my features appear as earnest as possible. The last thing I wanted was yet another physical altercation with my fiancé.

  I never won those.

  “It’s a serious case of being a cold, prude bitch, if you ask me,” Dom hissed in anger. “I’m getting tired of your excuses, March. It’s been four days. I don’t intend to wait another.” He grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him. “Understand me? Tonight. I don’t give a damn if you’ve got a brain tumor gnawing away in that empty head of yours! I’m going to be buried so deep inside you that you’ll ache for days.”

  Doubtful, I thought but was smart enough to keep my lips sealed—no reason to make a bad situation even worse. “Of course,” I answered meekly, wondering for the thousandth time why I stayed with him and allowed this type of dominance and abuse. It didn’t turn me on, that was for fuck sure. In truth, there was absolutely nothing about him that turned me on. Not his looks. Not his scent. Not his personality. And, most definitely, not his prowess in the bedroom.

  Meh, at best.

  He shoved me away from the wall. “I’m going to grab some lunch. Take care of the customers while I’m gone.” He started to walk away but turned back to me before he’d even taken two steps. “Don’t leave the building, March. You know what will happen if you disappoint me.”

  Oh, I knew what would happen; it’d already happened more times than I could count. Disobeying Dominic always led to serious consequences. “Yes, Sir,” I mumbled…just to shut him the fuck up. I kept my head down, staring at the scuffed hardwood floors until I was certain he’d left the building. After I heard the bell jingle above the door, I counted to twenty-five. I learned, through countless trials, that twenty-five was the magic number—the exact time that it would take for Dom to get far enough away from me in order for me to feel safe…to feel more like myself. I always felt him lingering, but the feelings eased up the farther away he’d go.

  Like myself…whoever the hell that was. Regarding my past, I had to rely solely on the stories that Dom fed me. According to him, I’d been diagnosed with a rare brain disorder three years ago. We’d traveled from hospital to hospital trying to find a surgeon willing to at least try to help me. No one would, though. It was useless, they’d claimed. Dominic, his love and dedication to me so strong, wouldn’t take no for an answer. He kept pushing, kept pleading. As he worked to save me, my health continued to decline. When he couldn’t legally find a medical option, he’d finally used every dime in his savings account to fly us to France, where he’d managed to convince a surgeon to try and save me. And by convince, I meant he’d paid him off—an ungodly amount of money. How did I know? Because he told me practically every damn day.

  The surgeon performed the surgery and while the tumors were successfully removed, my body had been too weak to bounce back. After the surgery, I was in a coma for a little over a year. When I awoke several months ago, I had no memories whatsoever. Nothing. My mind was like a big black empty chalkboard. It was smeared, like thoughts and memories had once been there, but were wiped away with an invisible eraser. It was both frustrating and heartbreaking. Half the time I wanted to kill someone and the other half I wanted to sit down and have a pity party that would go down in the history of pity parties.

  Like Dominic reminded me, he’d taken care of me all those months I’d been in the coma. He could have left me, taken the small amount of money he had remaining and walked away, but he hadn’t. He’d waited for me. He’d sat by my side every day, slept next to me every night. His love for me had kept him by my side even when I’d been a liability, his word-not mine.

  Yes, he reminded me daily. I owed him everything.

  I tried to love him back because apparently, I had at one time. He’d sacrificed so much for me. I’d stolen three years of his life. It was the least I could do, right?

  I hated having sex with him. Hated it. It felt so fucking wrong. I’d done fairly well at faking it at first, but it got more and more difficult each time he touched me. I didn’t want him. Something inside of me screamed that I’d never wanted him, but I pushed it down. That couldn’t be true. He wouldn’t have sacrificed so much for me if our love hadn’t been strong.

  “Excuse me.” A voice interrupted my pathetic trip down memory lane. “Could you please help me by answering some questions about your poppets?”

  I looked up and my gaze slammed into the most gorgeous creature I’d ever seen in my fucking life. He was at least six inches taller than me and wore a suit that probably cost more than most people made in a month. Stormy gray eyes that looked like they could see straight into my soul. Strong jawline—I liked that, even if Dom didn’t possess one. His lips, although forming a frown as he studied me, could only be described as a secret weapon that could be used to render even the strongest man or woman defenseless against their attack. Then, to top off the dangerous look, he had inky black hair that had to be cut shorter to try and tame the curls. My fingers itched to touch the silkiness, but I wasn’t a fool. My hands remained lifeless, hanging at my side.

  I wonder what he would taste like. Shit, where the fuck had that thought come from? Not only would Dom beat me within an inch of my life if I cheated on him, but who really wondered what somebody tasted like?

  Me, that’s who.

  A hand waved in front of my face. “Hello, boy. Are you listening to me?”

  Dammit, his voice was sexy, too. Wait. What? Boy? I
didn’t think so.

  I straightened myself to my full height and answered, “I’m not a boy, as you imply, and I’d appreciate you not calling me that again.” There. Take that. Boom. I put him right in his place, something I couldn’t seem to do with Dom.

  The man smiled. It could only be described as wicked. It made the lower half of my body want to melt. “No, I didn’t imply it. I said it.” The man corrected.

  Well, so much for trying to be a badass. I’d never done it before, and it looked like I wasn’t going to do it now. Whatever. I could care less. I didn’t back down to anyone. Except for Dom. I backed down for him every damn time.

  Why? Not a clue.

  “I’m sorry, Sir. No, I wasn’t really listening to you. I guess that’s our problem. You’re talking but I’m not caring at all what you’re saying. I could easily see how that might lead to a communication problem.” I snatched the poppet from his hand and added, “There’s plenty more of these all-over New Orleans. Take your business elsewhere.”

  Dom had drilled the old adage of the customer is always right bullshit in my head, but that didn’t mean I was going to sit back and allow a stranger to be rude to me…regardless of how drop-dead gorgeous he was. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen. I already had one asshole controlling my life so there was zero room for another asshole. Yep, I’d hit my asshole max.

  The man’s eyes narrowed, and the color turned from a stormy gray to a threatening black—right in front of my very eyes. Black. Black was an ominous color, especially when you’re there to see an eye color change. Yeah, I was ready for this dude to make a hasty exit.

  “Take my business elsewhere, Darkness? I think not. You must know who I am. So you’ve got about one second to give me the proper respect my position demands or I’m going to do something very…unfriendly to you.”

  “Darkness? Did you seriously just call me Darkness? Dude, you know your eyes just turned black, right? If anybody in this store is going to be referred to Darkness, it’s gonna be you.” I gave him a warning shove. “Now, take your business somewhere else. Don’t make me tell you again.”