Chapter 7
7
brOGAN
T he streetlight cast shadows across Esme's face, accentuating the hollows beneath her eyes and cheeks. It made her look like something out of a dream as she stared up at me with pleading dark eyes and parted red lips, her breath ghosting from between them in the cold night air. I moved without thinking, forgetting to watch my speed, to act human. Grabbing her wrist, I pulled her close, careful not to hurt her in my fervor as I cupped the back of her head with my free hand and took her mouth with mine.
I could so easily crush her skull in my palm if I forgot myself.
She gasped in surprise and I used that to my advantage, sweeping my tongue into her mouth and groaning aloud at her taste. God . Her taste . I’d dreamt about this moment, but the reality was so much fucking better than anything my mind could conjure up.
The warmth of her body seeped through my thin Hawaiian shirt, a stark contrast to the sudden gust of cool winter wind that whipped between the buildings lining the street. I felt her heart pound against mine, heard the strong beats and the way her blood rushed through her veins. Could smell the sweet, earthy musk of her rising desire. My fingers tangled in her hair as my other arm slid around her waist and pulled her tighter against me so I could grind my hardened length against her softness. Fucking hell, she felt so fucking good. The world around us blurred and I could only feel. Only smell. Only taste the perfection in my arms.
Impure thoughts lead to damnation…
The Elder's voice suddenly echoed through my head and I stilled, but only for a second before I snarled against her sweet mouth, shoving that shit away and crushing her in my arms, refusing to give her up.
Esme's fingers threaded through the hair at my nape, and a moan escaped her throat. I froze as that little sound snapped me out of the haze of lust that consumed me and flung me back into the horrors of my childhood.
How was it that even as a vampire who'd lived more than a century longer than I should have, the cult's teachings still haunted me—women as temptresses, physical pleasure as sin, the commandment to worship only their God. Those beliefs had been beaten into me since childhood and refused to fucking fade, clinging to my consciousness like a blood stain I couldn't wash away. Even after decades of freedom, they lingered beneath my skin. And no matter how I tried to shove them down and bury them deep where they couldn't touch me anymore, they still echoed inside my skull and crawled beneath my skin like a parasite.
I broke away, her name tearing from my throat like a prayer, begging her to save me. "Esme?—"
My world spun in a crazy maelstrom of sound and color, and I desperately hung onto her, trying to steady myself, my eyes focused on her sweet mouth. Raising one shaking hand, I ran my thumb along the edge of her lower lip where her lipstick had smeared, using her to ground myself.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Her worried eyes searched mine.
The body is a temple. Keep it pure. Desire leads to corruption. "I'm..." Damaged. Broken. Unworthy. A fucking vampire who wants to feed from you as much as I want to fuck you. And I don't know that I'll be able to stop myself from doing either.
"You're what?" She touched my face, and I flinched.
Physical contact between males and females is forbidden.
My eyes darted around the dark street as my mind tried to reconcile the voices in my head with where I was.
I shouldn't be here. I shouldn’t be doing this.
In a last, desperate attempt to talk some sense into her…into us both…I bared my fangs with a hiss. "Why aren't you fucking scared of me?"
Her eyes dropped to my mouth before rising slowly back to mine with a glimmer of satisfaction that she’d been right about me. "Do I need to be?" she retorted softly.
No. No, she didn't need to be. I'd never hurt her. I didn't think I could, even if I wanted to. With something akin to desperation, I stared hard into those dark eyes that bared her entire soul to me.
"I don't know how to do this," I confessed as the voices screamed my damnation in my ears, my voice only slightly louder than a whisper. "They taught us that wanting someone was wrong. That feeling pleasure was a sin." The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I still hear them, Esme. And they won’t stop. Why won’t they stop? Is it because they’re right?”
Little lines appeared between her brows. "What are you talking about? They who?"
I dropped my head and stared at the dirty sidewalk between our feet, my hands falling away from her as the memories I'd tried so hard to bury clawed their way to the surface. My mouth opened and words poured out, my mind caught up in the past.
"I grew up in a cult, Esme. The Cult of Divine Purity." The name tasted like ash in my mouth, bitter and choking. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to continue. "Everything about desire, about wanting someone—" I paused. Took a breath. "It was beaten into us that it was wrong. Sinful. We were taught that our bodies were vessels of temptation, and that any physical pleasure was a corruption of the soul." I shook my head, a mirthless laugh escaping my lips. "And even after all these years, even after everything I've been through as a vampire, those teachings still haunt me. Scars that still hurt every time something tugs at them.” My throat grew thick with emotions I had no idea how to deal with. “You're pulling me apart, Esme."
"But…" Her eyes travelled over my face, full of confusion. "You're a vampire. And you strip in a nightclub. Those women —" she said the word like a curse, "—are all over you, all the time."
"I'm a vampire because Killian made me one when he found me trying to take my own life. I dance because…because it feels like freedom. Like rebellion." One hand tugged at my hair, feeling like a fool for baring my soul like this, but unable to stop. "But I've never really...I don't know how…" I trailed off, struggling to find the words to explain the depths of my inexperience and insecurity when it came to intimacy.
Understanding suddenly dawned across her face, her dark eyes widening with realization. "To be with a woman?" she asked softly, her voice a mix of surprise and something else I couldn't quite decipher. Compassion, perhaps? Or pity? I wasn't sure which one would be worse.
I frowned, trying to gauge how I felt hearing the words said aloud. They were true, and not true. "I've been with a woman. Once," I conceded. "Shortly after I was turned, before I learned control."
"Did you enjoy it?"
I shook my head. I honestly didn't remember. "I don't know."
"Did she enjoy it?"
Slowly, I lifted my eyes to hers. "She's dead," I told her calmly.
"Because of you?"
"Yes." I felt absolutely nothing as I confessed this truth about my past. It happened a long time ago, and what I'd just told her was true. I didn't remember anything because of the insanity of the bloodlust that had overtaken me. I remembered hunting her. And I remembered licking the blood from my lips and fingers, then sitting up and seeing the woman dead beside me, the smell of her cunt still on my flaccid cock. I didn't think about it anymore. Not because I didn't care that I'd taken a life, but because I did. Very much.
For a few seconds, we stared at each other in the dim light of the streetlight. After that particular confession, I expected her not just to walk away from me, but to fucking run. To get as far away from me as she could, like any normal human woman would do.
Instead, Esme stepped closer, and shudders overtook my body as she slid her arms around my waist and hugged me. I breathed in her scent with a longing so strong it nearly brought me to my knees, and my arms came around her to hold her close. Gods. She smelled so fucking good. Had she always smelled this good? Why hadn't I ever noticed?
But that was a lie. I had noticed. I'd fucking noticed every goddamn time she'd gotten within twenty feet of me, her presence obliterating any semblance of focus or control I'd managed to cobble together in her absence. And every single time, without fail, she’d consumed my attention entirely, hijacking my thoughts and desires with nothing more than the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her full, tempting lips. It was maddening, the way she could unravel me so effortlessly, leaving me weak and wanting with just a look or a gesture.
Leaning back just enough to look up at me, she asked, “Is that why you won't help me with the djinn? Because getting involved means getting close to me?"
"No." I met her gaze. "I won't help because I can't protect you. Not from him."
The confession burned coming out. Oh, I would fight for her. I wasn't a fucking coward. Every cell in my body wanted to go hunt that bastard down right fucking now, even knowing I wouldn't survive. Not alone. And neither would she. Vampires had very little magic, not enough power to fight a thing like the djinn. And neither did humans.
I could tell by her expression that she was rejecting my words. That it wasn't what she'd wanted to hear, and she refused to believe me.
But beneath the denial, the fear, I also saw the same raw need that was still tearing through me, and I couldn't stop myself from reaching out to touch her face again. Her skin was as satiny smooth as the finest silk under my fingertips, and I knew the rest of her would be just as soft. Carefully, I traced her jawline with my fingertips, unable to believe she was still there.
"Brogan." The way she pleaded my name shattered what little remained of my control.
I took her mouth again, drinking in her taste, her scent, the feel of her lips beneath mine. She surged against me, and I moved, backing her up against the brick wall of the building so I could get closer, afraid I was crushing her but unable to give her any space. Her hands found the hem of my Hawaiian shirt and slipped beneath it, her cold fingers trailing fire across the bare skin of my sides and back.
My gums ached and my fangs shot down. And my cock, which had gotten distracted during my blathering confession, hardened again until I thought it would burst if I didn't get inside of her soon. I kissed her hungrily, desperately, feeling her wince as one sharp fang sliced through her lip and her rich blood coated my tongue.
A low growl started in my chest and increased in volume as I pulled her lip into my mouth and sucked.
MINE.
I broke away from her mouth to trail kisses down her neck, hovering over her pulse, feeling it beat fast and strong beneath my lips. The sweet and spicy scent of her made my mouth water and my muscles tremble with the effort it took to hold myself back.
MINE.
The knowledge pushed everything else out of my mind. Fucking hell. I wanted to taste her— all of her.
"You smell so damn good." Unwilling to break contact, I spoke the words against the silkiness of her skin.
In response, Esme tilted her head, exposing more of her throat, and I ran my tongue over her pulsing artery. Her breath came out in little short gasps that quickly became my very favorite sound.
“You need to run.”
“What would you do if I did?”
A low growl rose up from my chest. If she ran, it would only make the hunt that much more fun.
A familiar voice laced with amusement suddenly cut through the fog of desire clouding my senses. "Well, I guess I didn't need to come looking for you. Seems to me you're doing just fine."
I spun around, automatically placing myself between Esme and Dae-Jung, who stood not thirty feet away with his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans, his bare chest peeking through the opening in the jacket I was sure someone insisted he wear. It was just for show. If it wasn't for the humans lingering in The Quarter, he'd run around half naked all the time. The cold didn't affect us like it did them, and Dae had no issues showing off his body.
He held his hands up, palms up. “It’s just me, man. Chill.” Though his tone was calm, he didn’t try to come any closer.
That was good, because I tracked his every movement as though he were a threat, my muscles tensing and my senses now on high alert. Giving my head a little shake, I fixed him with a hard stare. "Following me now?" I growled, my voice low and menacing.
Dae shrugged. "You snuck out. Wanted to make sure you weren't getting into trouble." His eyes slid to Esme, and he smirked. "But clearly, you are."
"It's not what you think."
"No?" Dae's eyebrows rose and his smirk widened into a full-on grin. "Because it looks like you're about to feed from—and possibly fuck—a human on a public street.” He rocked back on his heels. “Killian is gonna love hearing about this."
Heat rushed to my face. He was right—I'd been on the verge of doing both of those things. “This isn't any of your fucking business, Dae," I said. I wasn't really worried that he would tell Killian. I knew he wouldn't. I just wanted him to fucking leave.
"True." Dae shrugged unapologetically, trying to see around my shoulder. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"
"No."
But Esme stepped around me and walked toward Dae, holding out her hand. "Hi, I'm Esme."
He met her halfway and took her hand in his, raising it to his mouth and kissing the back. I nearly lunged at him, checking myself just in time.
"Yeah, I've seen you around the club. Dae-Jung," he told her. "But you can call me Dae."
I shifted uncomfortably as Dae held onto Esme's hand a moment too long. His eyes flicked to mine. "She does smell good."
A possessive growl rumbled in my chest before I could stop it, but he just laughed. The fucker.
"Marcus is back," I told him, drawing Dae's attention away from Esme.
His eyes snapped to mine, and the teasing grin fell from his face as his eyes narrowed in warning. He dropped her hand. "What?" he asked carefully.
"She knows what we are, Dae. It's okay."
He glanced between the two of us, but gave no indication that he knew what I was talking about.
"He killed her family in Mexico,” I continued. “That’s why she came here. Which probably wasn't the best place to end up, because now he's back."
"Wait," Esme interrupted. "Back? What do you mean by 'back'?"
Dae's playful demeanor vanished in a heartbeat. "You're sure?" he asked her.
"Yes," Esme told him. Then she turned to me. "What do you mean, he's back? He's been here before?"
"Yes." There was no reason not to tell her that much, at least. "Not for us. Because of some acquaintances of ours." Anything more wasn't my story to tell.
"When did this happen to your family?" Dae asked her.
After a moment, she tore her eyes from mine, and I didn't need to read her mind to know we'd circle back to this conversation later. "Right before I showed up here in New Orleans," she told him. "I'd just arrived in the city the night I first came to your club."
"And how do you know he's here now? Did you see him?"
"I can feel him."
He cast a disbelieving glance in my direction before asking, "Feel him how?"
She hesitated, and a shadow of guilt flickered across her expression. I wondered what that was about, but showed nothing on my face. I never thought to ask her how she knew. Just took her at her word.
That adorable chin went up in that stubborn way she had. "I just do. I'm…sensitive that way."
Dae studied her for a long moment, then turned his attention back to me. "Does Killian know?" Apparently, he'd decided to take her at her word as well.
I shook my head. "Just found out myself. A few minutes ago."
"If this is true, then we need to tell him."
Esme's hands went to her hips. "What do you mean, IF this is true? I just said it was."
Dae crossed his thick arms over his chest and looked down at her. "Look, sweetheart. No offense. It's just that I don't know you. Therefore, I don't know whether or not to believe you."
"She's not lying, Dae."
Without breaking the stare down they were engaged in, he asked me, "How do you know?"
I knew what he was asking me. "I just do," was my lame reply. But it was the truth. She wasn't lying. I didn't know how I knew that for a fact, but I just did. I felt it all the way to my bones. I didn’t have to go digging around in her head. "How would she know about him…how would she know his name…if it wasn't true?"
Dae cocked his head, looking at her with new interest. “How much exactly do you know about Marcus?” he asked.
Esme took a breath and her red lips parted, but before she could answer, the street lights flickered and an icy wind whipped down the nearly empty street, carrying with it the metallic tang of dark magic.