Chapter 5
5
ESME
A fter pinning me in place with his bright green stare, Brogan had studiously ignored for the rest of his performance. I watched him for a while, knowing his shift would end soon. And as soon as he left the stage, I ducked out the back door and waited in the alley, avoiding the puddles from the rain that had fallen earlier today as I nervously paced back and forth, determined to catch him before he could slip away.
The simple truth was, I didn't want to be alone. And Brogan—whoever or whatever he was—made me feel a little bit safer when I was around him.
It wasn't a logical thing, thinking one male alone could save me from a force as powerful as the djinn who had murdered my family. My rational mind knew better, but I wasn't being logical right now. Fear and loneliness had stripped away my usual careful reasoning, leaving me feeling raw and vulnerable. I was just a woman alone in a city that was no longer the refuge it was yesterday, desperately seeking any port in the storm. And even though I'd only known him for a short time, Brogan was that person for me.
As I’d predicted, the back door of the club suddenly burst open, and out came the man I was waiting for. He looked disheveled, his shirt unbuttoned and his boots unlaced. He was clearly in a hurry to leave, and I couldn't help but feel hurt at his attempt to sneak away.
"Not hanging around tonight, Brogan?" I asked, forcing myself to sound unaffected. Amused, even.
He jumped, looking genuinely startled. "Jesus fucking Christ!" he exclaimed.
I couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face. It wasn't often that I got the upper hand with him, and I savored the moment.
"Are you scared of me or something?" I teased, hoping he wouldn't sense the undercurrent of nervous energy within me.
"Pfft," he scoffed, clearly trying to regain his composure. "What do you want, Esme?"
I want you—and your coven—to help me fight a djinn. For a moment, I considered saying just that. What would he do if I blurted out the real reason I was here? Would he actually help me?
But as he stared at me, his bright green eyes looking at me like I was a stranger, what little hope I had slipped through my fingers like grains of sand, leaving me empty and defeated. No. He wouldn’t help me. It was more likely he would send me away. I was a fool to think any other way. Why would he help some woman he barely knew?
But then I remembered our kiss and the intense way he'd reacted to me and a small thread of that hope returned. He wasn't as unaffected by me as he was trying to make me believe. This I knew. And if I were honest with myself, I wasn't unaffected by him, either. An idea began to form. Perhaps I was going about this the wrong way. "Wanna go get something to eat?" I asked innocently, knowing full well what his response would be.
As expected, he gave me his standard answer. "You know damn well I don't date customers. I've told you this plenty of times."
This time, I refused to be deterred. I was not going back to my empty apartment. “You've only told me once or twice. And it's not a date," I countered. "It's dinner. Or a late-night snack, or whatever you want to call it. I never asked you to buy."
At the word “snack” his eyes dropped to the opening of my blouse before they snapped back up to mine and his jaw set with renewed determination. “It's not happening. I have things to do," he said, trying to brush me off.
But he didn’t try to leave. "I'll come with you. Keep you company," I offered, flashing him my most disarming smile. I knew the effect it had on him, and I wasn't above using it to my advantage.
He was weakening. I could see it in the way his eyes roved over my face, zeroing in on my lips before they dipped to my cleavage and returned to meet my steady gaze. There was hunger there, and it had nothing to do with food. "I didn't ask for company."
I stepped closer and laced my arm through his, refusing to allow him to push me away and send me home. He tensed at the contact, but he didn't pull away. Looking up at him, I opened my mouth to say… something , but I couldn't get the words out. What if I was wrong? What if, in my desperation, I'd imagined all the things that made him different? Inhuman? Powerful? What if he was just a normal guy who had way too much charisma and was a really good dancer?
He started to button up his shirt, catching my hand inside his elbow. “Esme, I told you I didn’t want company.”
No. No, I wasn't wrong. I couldn't be wrong. I could feel the power pulsing beneath his skin, deep within him, that he tried so hard to hide. "Well, I do," I insisted. "So, you're stuck with me. You might as well deal with it and let's get on about things. I don't want to be up all night. I have an early meeting." With my new boss.
"Tomorrow's Sunday," he pointed out.
I gave him a look that clearly said this wasn't up for discussion.
Finally, he grudgingly relented. "Fine," he said, and I couldn't help but smile triumphantly.
" Gracias ," I told him sincerely as he led the way out of the alley. I felt his searching gaze as he looked down at me walking beside him, but I kept my eyes straight ahead, too afraid he would see the truth.
"For what?"
"For keeping me company," I explained.
"Esme, are you alright?" When I didn't respond right away, he pulled me out of the way of a group of retirees walking behind us and pressed me back against the brick wall of the little pizza place we’d just passed, one hand braced beside my head, shielding me from prying eyes with his large body. "What's going on, darlin'?"
I started shaking my head as tears welled in my eyes. It was silly of me to come running to him like some damsel in distress. Even if he could help me, my problems weren't his. It wasn't fair of me to ask him to risk his life for someone he barely knew.
Concern etched his features as he watched me, and I felt pressure at the front of my skull as he tried to get past the mental walls I always kept up when I was around him. "Esme…"
"You know what?" I sniffed and glanced up at him briefly before turning my head away. "I changed my mind. I’m just going to go home."
He didn't move a muscle. "No, you're not."
I bristled at his domineering tone. "Excuse me?"
Slinging his heavy arm over my shoulders, he started walking again, bringing me with him. I couldn’t help but notice how perfectly I fit against him. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking.
“Something obviously has you all shaken up. And I can't in good conscience let you wander off alone in The Quarter at night when you're feeling like this." Secretly relieved, I walked beside him in silence for another half a block before he said, "If you don't want to tell me what it is, you don't have to. We can just keep walking.”
"I thought you had things to do?"
He gave a little shrug. "They can wait."
Keeping his arm around me, he steered me away from the crowds on Bourbon Street until only the occasional lost tourist kept us company. Yet I wasn’t scared at all to be out this late on a practically deserted street. And for the first time, I realized why: people naturally made room for him, as if they sensed the dangerous aura I’d noticed that first night. But fear was exactly why I felt safer whenever I was near him.
“I’m just feeling quite alone," I started, my voice barely above a whisper. "And I don't have anyone else to talk to."
He kept walking. "No friends?"
“Only you," I told him with a shaky smile.
"What about your family?" He glanced down at me.
A lie was on the tip of my tongue, but then I decided what the hell. I was out of time. "My family…they were killed. All of them. My parents. My brother. And I…" I had to take a moment before I could get the words out. "I was there. I saw it happen."
Brogan's arm tightened around my shoulders, and I felt the weight of his stare on my profile as his steps faltered. He watched me for a long time before he spoke again. "I'm so sorry, darlin'."
Unable to speak past the knot in my throat, I nodded, fighting back tears as we started walking again. It was a while before I got my voice back. "It was a fire. And it happened recently. Shortly before I came here, actually. And I...I needed to not be alone tonight.” I paused, thinking. Thinking too much. Too fast. And then I blurted, "Brogan, I think you might be able to help me."
Although his steps didn't falter this time, I felt him tense beside me. "Help you? How?"
I looked up at him, meeting his green eyes directly. "I know this might sound crazy, but the fire wasn't an accident. And the thing that started it, the thing that killed my family...it wasn't human."
Brogan's face remained impassive, but something flickered in his eyes before he faced forward again. Caution? Fear? I couldn't be sure.
"What do you mean, not human?" he asked carefully.
I swallowed hard. "It was...a man. But not a man. Its name is Marcus. And it can do things...impossible things."
I watched his reaction closely, looking for any sign that he understood what I was talking about. "I know how it sounds," I continued before he could say anything. "But I also know what I saw. And I think it might be after me now." True fear made my blood run cold, and I shivered despite the heat radiating off his body. "And it's here. In New Orleans." I stopped walking, stepping out from underneath his arm to face him. "I need help, Brogan."
One eyebrow went up. "And you think I can help you?"
"Yes."
He looked at me like I was crazy. "Why the hell would you think something like that?"
"Because I know what you are."
He stared at me for a long moment, his usual teasing manner nowhere to be found. "And what is that?"
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs.
Here we go. The moment of truth. "You're a vampire, are you not?"