Chapter 4 Kayla #2
He reached inside his leather jacket and drew out even more paperwork — this time, more wadded than folded.
I almost groaned when I recognized that mess.
It was my old contract. He smoothed it out in front of me and traced his finger under the line of text as he read out the portion stating that I was in service to the royal family of New Orleans.
“It doesn’t specify which family,” he said.
I scoffed. “That’s what you’re hanging all of this on? Really? I signed a contract in good faith with Francois. Of course the royal family concerned is the Ricard family.” My hope was thinning, but it wasn’t entirely gone.
The small print didn’t look good for me, but both of us in this room knew what I thought I’d signed. Surely that counted for something?
But his next words whisked away the last of my hope.
“Contract law doesn’t allow for goodwill in my experience. You shouldn’t have left loopholes in yours.” He shrugged like my plight meant nothing to him at all.
Nausea churned in my stomach, and I had nothing left but my stubbornness. “I’m not signing it.”
“Well.” Normal people would have drawn a long-suffering sigh here, but this guy acted like he didn’t even need to breathe.
“This would have been the easy way.” He narrowed his eyes slightly.
“But I guess this means we do it the hard way. I’ll just take you up to the club to see Sebastian, and the two of you can work it out between yourselves.
” Everything about the way he held himself declared he didn’t have time for this.
A whisper of excitement teased through me at the idea of seeing Sebastian again, but I chased it away. I was safe in my house. I wasn’t safe anywhere else. I had to get rid of Kyle, and then I could leave as I’d planned.
This wasn’t what I’d envisioned. I wanted to pack my bags and waltz out of my door, hit the city limits, and be gone. But I had to get rid of the vampire who’d come to call so I could still see those city limits before the night was over.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” And I even meant it.
He didn’t say anything, just leveled me with a look that dared me to try to resist. Maybe he had a point.
I swept my gaze over him, calculating the odds as quickly as I could.
But there were no odds even remotely on my side.
There was no way I’d ever be stronger than this vampire. He was way more powerful.
Being a witch still meant being human. I was no match for superhuman strength or speed. I was lucky he was behaving like a normal guy. He probably could have lifted me over his shoulder and speed-walked to his car by now if I’d really pissed him off.
I could possibly stun him. Maybe. There might even have been a spell that could buy me enough time to leave and run away if it knocked him out…
But my magic didn’t usually work like that.
I didn’t have knock-out spells committed to memory and those kinds of incantations ready to trip off my tongue.
I would have also needed to prepare the right ingredients, and nothing would raise his suspicions like me taking thirty minutes out of our chat to go stand in my kitchen and ritually prepare a spell.
He grabbed my jacket from where I’d hung it over the back of a chair and offered it to me.
I flinched away. “What are you doing?”
“I told you we’re going out.” His face was grim, tense.
I was sure I was pushing his buttons now, nudging at boundaries.
I glanced at the jacket, still in his hand. “It’s New Orleans. It’s not cold outside.”
He shrugged. “I keep the AC freezing in the car.” Then he didn’t move, but his insistent gaze made my skin prickle.
Heaving a sigh, I began to reconsider. Perhaps this was the only way I’d get free—to see Sebastian Dupont and plead my case directly. He was the boss, after all, and he’d certainly seemed like he could be charming.
“Okay.” I huffed the word as I took my jacket from him and rolled it into an awkward ball before grabbing my keys. “Let’s get this over with.”
I followed him down the concrete steps that smelled faintly of weed in the sun and more strongly of piss when it rained, and we approached a sleek car.
I barely contained my whistle. Holy hell. I could almost guarantee there weren’t many of those in New Orleans—maybe not in the whole of the state.
“I brought Sebastian’s car in case I needed to take you to him. Didn’t think you’d appreciate my bike.”
His words surprised me. He didn’t seem like the chatty type.
I tossed my hair back, the universal gesture for not impressed and forced a bored-sounding, “Oh.”
I slid into the passenger seat and goosebumps broke out on my arms as we drove away. He hadn’t been joking about the air conditioning, but I wasn’t so weak as to prove him right by putting my jacket on.
He studied me on and off throughout the drive — I caught sight of his head turned toward mine in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t look back at him. He didn’t say anything else, and I didn’t want to engage at all. This was all just horse crap.
I was in a car with a vampire, going to visit another vampire, when my vampire employer had just died.
I didn’t need anything else in my life but to get rid of the fucking vampires.
I didn’t have a whole lot of hope of making nice with the covens again, though, so it was definitely a new city, fresh start situation — if I could get out of this.
Releasing a quiet sigh, I turned my attention out of the window and watched the streets of New Orleans as we drove down them.
We soon arrived at a house close to the club. Walking distance anyway. I didn’t know what I’d expected—maybe another big, out-of-town mansion like Francois had lived in. Something old, that smelled of family money, but was burdened by too much history and general decay.
Still, the Duponts were new. They probably didn’t have any New Orleans history.
That thought brought me some relief. I knew this town. Sazerac cocktails, our city’s drink, flowed through my veins almost like blood, and I breathed the smells of the swamp and French Quarter sewers like they were oxygen. Maybe I had the upper hand here after all.
Gates rolled out of the way to allow us access to a private parking space, and it took a lot of effort to keep my jaw clamped together. I had no intention of letting myself look unduly impressed with the Duponts’ grandiose house. It was just showing off, as far as I was concerned. Trying too hard.
Nothing about the Dupont royals had impressed me so far, and I wasn’t about to start letting them now.
I ignored the tiny voice trying to tell me that Sebastian was definitely a little bit impressive.
The gates rolled shut behind us and Kyle turned the engine off after he parked. He got out of the car first then came to stand at the passenger side and waited for me. He didn’t open the door. He just stood and waited like he had all the time in the world—and he probably did.
He’d live for fucking forever. Waiting days or weeks for me to finally get out of the car was nothing compared to that lifespan.
I could either stay in the car and grow increasingly sweaty, or I could leave, throwing myself directly into the lion’s den.
And all these lions definitely had teeth.
It wasn’t like I had a lot of choices.
I opened the door and got out, but Kyle had reverted to not speaking at all, and he simply turned and led the way to a door that took us directly into a kitchen. I glanced around, wondering if they brought all of their guests through the tradesman’s entrance.
We walked through an almost silent house, where the only sound was the ticking of a large clock somewhere nearby, but I couldn’t even see it down one of the corridors.
If this house had looked large from the outside, it was a goddamn vortex on the inside. And pure luxury living.
“The parlor,” Kyle suddenly announced, like he was the world’s most unlikely butler. Then he turned and left as Sebastian stood smoothly from an uncomfortable-looking chair.
He made the item of furniture seem impossibly delicate like the narrow legs shouldn’t have supported his weight at all.
Sebastian smiled as I met his gaze, and the merest hint of fang grazed his lower lip.
I should have recoiled from the overt display of dominance, but something inside me tugged toward him instead. I put my hands out like I could grab a physical object and steady myself, but I grasped air.
“Sebastian Dupont.” He reached for me, clasping my hand warmly as he needlessly introduced himself again.
I’d read his name on his business card, running my gaze over the delicate script like it was some sort of secret code, more often than I’d admit to anyone.
“I’m very pleased to finally meet one of my witches.” He gestured to a sofa that didn’t look any more substantial than the chair he’d risen from when I entered the room.
I shook my head and pasted what I hoped was a sweet smile across my face.
I aimed for apologetic but probably didn’t make it that far.
“Not one of your witches, I’m afraid. I don’t belong to anyone.
My servitude died with King émile.” I rarely gave that man his title, but perhaps it would help in this situation.
Except Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, so maybe not.
“Whatever contract I previously had is now null and void. I’ll be leaving New Orleans as soon as I finish packing and make the appropriate arrangements.” There they were then. All my cards on the table.
His gaze lost some of its friendly welcome, but his tone remained light when he spoke.
“That’s not going to happen.” Light, but with an edge of steel.
“You are very much my witch, and if you try to leave the city, I’ll imprison you for breach of contract.
” He met my eyes directly, and his determination was clear to see.
He was focused and serious — he meant every word he’d just said.
“But why?” I blurted out the question before I even thought it.
He lifted an eyebrow.
I scrambled to clarify myself. “I mean, why me? I’m not special. We’re in New Orleans.” I lifted my hands like I could encompass the whole city. “Witches here are a dime a dozen.” Well, wannabe witches, anyway, but he didn’t need to know that part.
His eyes had flared when I said the word special, but he was just watching me with his usual clear blue gaze now.
He tilted his head like he was considering his response.
“I need someone familiar with how Francois ran things with his employees and his club. Someone who worked on the inside, if you like. You were both a club employee and a family employee, so yes, perhaps that does make you special.” Light flared briefly through his eyes again bringing the merest touch of red to the color.
My knees weakened, but I tensed all my muscles to remain standing. Well, shit. Not being special had been my whole argument.
He gestured to the sofa again like he’d seen my brief wobble, and—again—I ignored him. Stubborn, remember?
“I thought we could start easy,” Sebastian said. “Perhaps you could tell me a little about what the New Orleans witches…”
I drew a startled breath. He’d referred to us as New Orleans witches—not Ricard witches, as I’d always believed myself to be.
That was… different. And not entirely unwelcome.
But I wasn’t one of the New Orleans witches.
They’d never acknowledged me as such, anyway. Still, Sebastian’s assertion warmed me.
Part of me still wanted to belong, even though everything inside me indicated I really didn’t. After all, here I was mixed up with vampires again. Shit like this kept happening, whether I wanted it to or not.
When I returned my attention to him, he was no longer speaking. Instead, he was watching me. “Are you okay, Ms. McKenna?”
“Kayla.” The correction was automatic but even as I cursed myself internally, a grin captured his lips as if I’d pleased him.
“All right.” He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Kayla, can I get you something to drink while we have our discussion?”
I shook my head and finally sank to the sofa. If we were to have an entire discussion, I really should sit down, after all.
“As I was saying.” Sebastian drew the chair he’d been sitting in previously a little closer. “I’d like to know what the New Orleans witches have been doing and the types of spells you created for émile and Francois.”
I swallowed, fighting the urge to leap from the sofa and run.
But even if I got out of the house, I had nowhere to go.
I hadn’t been able to locate Lettie, so she couldn’t protect me, and Naomi wasn’t exactly skilled in battle magic.
Plus, I couldn’t take trouble to my friends’ doors. I wouldn’t do that to anyone.
I’d burned my bridges with the local covens as soon as I’d started doing black magic for King émile and his crazy son, and they wouldn’t exactly welcome me back now that I was tied up with the newest royal family.
I was definitely persona non grata all over the city for me, and I had only myself to blame for that.
I glanced at Sebastian again, and his gaze hadn’t wavered from me while he waited for me to start talking, like I was just going to spill my guts and tell him everything I knew.
As if that was going to happen. If the covens hated me now, they’d hate me even more if I started using their secrets as currency for my freedom from a vampire.
I looked at the doorway a second time. For all I knew, Kyle was still lurking around out there. Or maybe Sebastian had an entire staff of vampires just waiting to ensure I didn’t leave before I’d told him the things he wanted to hear.
Spreading my hands on my lap, I studied my fingers and counted my breaths, calming myself as I bought time. I didn’t know what to say or what to tell him.
I couldn’t stay here and have this conversation.
But I couldn’t leave, either.
I was well and truly stuck.