Immortally Yours (Damned To Love Duet #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Warren

The angel of the night was my reckoning, my ruin, and my salvation.

Make no mistake, I knew from the moment I met him that I would succumb to whatever fate he held for me.

I was a willing instrument in his play of life, and I gave myself over to him with ease.

There was no hesitation, no stumbling at the last minute.

He exuded all I wanted from life, and I allowed myself to be swept up in the vision he painted for me.

It was a crisp, chilled evening in the downtown district of New Orleans.

I remember everything about that night so vividly.

The night I met him; the one who would change everything for me.

The patrons rushed into the bar, tripping over themselves like they were already drunk—some of them were.

They’d stagger from tavern to pub, drowning their sorrows in mugs of stale ale and whatever watered-down beer they could stomach.

I would watch with fascination from behind the bar, getting my laughs from the wild things they would get up to.

It was on a slow, February night that he entered the bar I was working in (I’m sure it was called The Carousel back then).

The air was stagnant, smelling of sweat and booze.

I was laughing—falsely, on my part—with a customer about the turmoil of his day as I poured him another pint of house ale, when it felt like everything shifted.

Like I could sense the way my life was about to be altered completely before he had even stepped foot inside.

The tattered, wooden doors were thrust open and a gust of cold air swept through the bar. Like a whirlwind, he swaggered through the double doors with a nonchalance that only a man with no cares of the world could muster.

That was my first thought of him: another rich man, ready to brag about his wealth and swindle his money.

My second thought, one that entered my brain so quickly that it almost shocked me, was that I found him to be the most handsome, enrapturing man I had ever laid my eyes on.

Before I allowed myself to think more about that, about him, I quickly averted my eyes and went back to pouring drinks. He, however, had other plans.

I know now that he had formed a plan in his mind when he saw me, but I was oblivious at the time.

He rapped his knuckles on the edge of the bar, calling for my attention. “Service, if you’d be so kind.”

He had a rich voice, deep and melodic. I remember thinking to myself that I would have loved to hear him talk for hours so I could listen to that voice—a thought that turned into a wish which formed into my reality.

Removing his top hat, he swept a strand of his silken, dark hair over his shoulder and fixed his gaze on me.

I forced myself to swallow down the gasp from locking eyes with him.

Under the poor lighting, his irises reflected the candlelight like sparks of fire glowing.

Breathtaking, I could admit, and even more so the closer I got and saw that they were icy violet.

I allowed myself to believe at that time that it was a trick of the dim lights… But I know better now.

“What can I get you?”

“What an interesting accent. Irish?”

I offered a stiff smile. I didn’t like to talk about myself with patrons. I wanted to work and leave with my wages. I didn’t like small talk.

But there was something about him…

“A good ear. Moved here when I was young, but I never quite managed to shake the accent fully.”

“It’s beautiful,” he said, quietly enough that only I could hear. His eyes stayed on me as I inclined my head in a small thanks. His own voice was deeply accented, but one that I had grown up with.

“You’re from here?” I asked inquisitively.

“Oui, I grew up just a few streets over. New Orleans was my home for most of my life.” His voice was laced with something I couldn’t decipher at the time. I recognize now that it was loneliness and deep sorrow.

“Well, I’m sure your family is happy to have you home.”

His answering smile was forced. “I highly doubt that. Now, I’ll take a bottle of the finest wine on your shelf up there. The older the label, the better.”

I grabbed a bottle from the top shelf, one with a label that was deteriorating and gathering dust, and poured a glass.

He closed his eyes and sniffed the glass, inhaling the notes of whatever berries were pressed alongside the grapes.

Opening his eyes, he raised his brows at me before taking a slow drink. I watched as he swallowed, feeling my pulse quicken as though I was watching a lewd act.

He had that way, always. To make you feel like you were witnessing something special, sensual. Like you were a part of something secret, just you and him.

It made me fall in love with him, even when I didn’t know it.

“Some things grow better with age, do they not?”

I merely nodded, my tongue suddenly unable to form any words. I didn’t trust myself to be coherent or speak any sort of sense.

He leaned forward on his elbows, propping his perfectly chiseled face onto his hands as he stared. It was so obscene, that minuscule act, that I had to look around me to make sure nobody else was watching his brazenness.

“What is your name? I fear I will be too distracted by you to adequately drown my sorrows this evening, so perhaps knowing your name will soothe my curiosities.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but my name sat useless on my tongue, lost somewhere in my fascination with him.

“Warren.”

The man smiled, his entire face lighting up from how glorious it was. “Well, I consider it my utmost pleasure to make your acquaintance, Warren.”

“And you? You got a name, sir?”

“Bien s?r! My name is Levette Fortier.”

That name would change my life forevermore, and I have been damned to love and hate it every day since.

Levette moved to a table at the back of the establishment after a few glasses of wine, taking another vintage bottle with him. I could feel his eyes on me as I worked; his gaze boring into me every time I offered a customer a small smile.

It’s a strange feeling to meet someone and just know without a shadow of a doubt that everything was about to change, but I knew. I felt the charge in the air, and understood the meaning behind my breath catching whenever I caught his eye.

He sat cross legged in his linen suit, drumming those long fingers off the table as he watched the comings and goings of the bar. Occasionally, he would rub his beard or wipe a hand over his mustache, rolling his eyes as though he was bored. But still, he sat and watched. And drank. And watched.

At some point during his long wait, he made friends with one of my regulars.

Edwin Landry was a plantation owner with a long history of being a bastard to not only those in his employment, but his wife and children, too.

Seeing him boast and try to impress Levette sent waves of sickness through my gut.

“Another round!” Edwin hollered, waving me over.

Levette winked at me over the man’s shoulder as he stood, shaking his head. “Non, no more for me. I fear I won’t be able to stomach any food if I continue to drink with a companion such as yourself, monsieur Landry. Forgive me, but I must take my leave.”

Edwin tutted, smacking his hand on the table, causing his glass to fall and roll off the table. I sighed at the smash, seeing the pieces scatter across the floor, knowing I would be the one to clean it. Edwin appeared to reach the same conclusion as he laughed and motioned to the mess.

“Get your broom, boy!”

“Ah, ah. Why should he be the one to clean up after you made the mess yourself, Edwin?” Levette questioned, placing a hand on my arm to keep me rooted on the spot. Edwin looked at him and barked out another laugh, but Levette’s tone suggested he didn’t find anything humorous.

“You’re a funny one, Fortier. That’s why we have the working class, isn’t it?”

Levette loosened his hold on me and leaned down to meet his new companion’s gaze. “I do so hope you’re joking, Mr. Landry. You are, aren’t you? I highly doubt you would let poor Warren do something you are capable of. You plan to sweep the glass up yourself, oui?”

Something in Edwin’s eyes shifted as Levette spoke to him, a glassy look taking over his face. When Levette was finished speaking, Edwin nodded and dropped to his knees, sweeping the glass up into his bare hands.

I tried to stifle my shock, stepping back when Levette turned to me and smiled. He tipped his hat, whispering, “I’d be loath to let someone try and embarrass you in my presence,” before striding out and leaving me staring at the wooden doors in his wake.

Edwin’s hands were dripping blood from a series of small cuts by the time I turned my attention back to him. He had scooped the shattered pieces up and dumped them onto the table, staring at them in confusion.

“Let me get you a rag, Mr. Landry,” I placated, running to the bar and back with a semi-clean rag for him to wipe away the blood.

He looked at me with a blank stare, letting the rag drop from his fingertips.

“Are you alright?”

Blinking, Edwin nodded slowly. “Me? Yes, quite alright. I…um—I’m feeling a tad unwell.”

I offered my hand to help him up but he swatted away my touch like I was diseased, instead choosing to stumble his way to the exit unassisted. Again, I found myself staring at those old wooden doors and wondering what the hell had happened.

The tug in my chest and the whispers at the back of my brain told me that Levette had caused the man his unease, yet some other part of me whispered back that he had done it for me.

It felt wrong to be flattered, but Levette Fortier’s soft words before his exit had planted a seed firmly in my heart and had already begun to take root.

It had been a long time since anyone had found me worthy enough to defend, but that strange man had done it within hours of meeting me.

I was a foolish child then, na?ve even, but I can’t say I regret anything that happened afterward.