Blood Cursed: The Complete Duet
CHAPTER 1
Rue
Nerves flutter through my stomach as I shut the door to my sparkling red convertible and step toward the nightclub, brushing my hands down the side of my leather pants.
Glancing at my surroundings reveals a beautifully painted brick building with gorgeous sprawling vines crawling up the sides, like they’re reaching for something… anything, more. Much like my life as of late.
Peering up, I catch a glimpse of the painted sign that reads, The Growl - Bar and Nightclub with a symbol of a wolf howling at the moon. This place is not my normal haunt, but my friends wanted to explore the nightlife outside New Orleans for once.
While the city itself might seem large, there’s a close-knit community made up of witches, and we all know each other, which is the furthest thing I need with my current magic situation right now.
Every witch comes into their magic at thirteen, but we don’t gain full access to the coven and our powers until we turn twenty-three. Which happens to be tonight for me, and still nothing. No boost, no extreme awakening. Nothing.
I inhale the cooler night air, thankful that fall is on its way and we might get a small reprieve from the humidity. The air seems to settle deep in my lungs, calming me. Truthfully, being this far outside of the city is liberating.
Sure, my magic is probably never going to reach its full potential, considering my birthday is almost over—hence the trip to a nightclub—but it’s fine. I’ve come to learn that life doesn’t need to revolve around magic like the Witches Council would have us believe, and I’ve been doing fine without a ton of it, anyway.
I’d just like to find something or somewhere I truly feel like I fit in…
I shake my hands out a few times trying to expel the last of my nerves, and step toward the nightclub entrance. The steady thump of the bass reverberates outside from the music blaring inside. The electronic pop mixture is pumping so loudly, I swear my bones rattle.
I pull my blouse down so it showcases the sexy bralette I’m wearing underneath and fluff my hair.
Noticing as I walk, there’s not a bouncer standing outside the door judging people before they can go in. A relieved breath escapes me. Their silent judgment always rubs me the wrong way, even if I do look great tonight. I’ve been saving this outfit for this occasion.
The distinct tang of sweat is the first thing to hit me when I waltz inside, but underneath that is a strange tangy smell I can’t quite put my finger on. It does funny things to my insides all the same. Sadly, it disappears under everything else so quickly, I wonder if it was even there at all.
My gaze skates over the dance floor, which is full of bodies gyrating together in every single direction. Wow, this place is packed for a club on the outskirts of town. I’m pleasantly surprised. Maybe my besties have good taste after all.
This is exactly the kind of anonymity I need to forget all about my lack of powers.
My phone lights up in my hand and I glance at it, reading the first few words as they appear.
Tessa: Hey girlie, I’m so sorry, we can’t make it tonight. Have fun though!
Darcy: Yeah, sorry girl. I’m feeling under the weather.
My stomach drops as I read and reread the messages from my best friends Tessa and Darcy over and over, my eyes scanning for further explanation, or the punch line, or another text to come through saying it’s a joke and they’re already here… but nothing happens. Not even a happy birthday. What the fuck?
Rue: Uh, last time I checked witches don’t get sick like humans, Darcy? Besides, it’s my birthday. Ffs, Tess, you’re the one who picked this club!
A patron bumps into me and it distracts me momentarily. I scooch further out of the way, watching my phone screen as the three little texting dots appear beside both of their names and then disappear just as quickly. These bitches are leaving me on read. You’ve got to be kidding me! I never would’ve ventured this far outside the city if I’d known they’d ditch me alone out here.
Deciding to give it one more shot, I send off another text, trying not to let my emotions get to me, but it’s hard when two of your closest friends no longer want anything to do with you.
Rue: I thought besties were supposed to stick together?
Same thing happens again. Three dots appear beside their names and disappear. A millisecond later, a notification from Tessa’s social media pops up and I open it, instantly regretting it when I see a picture of them at a different club inside the city. One I’d recognize anywhere, judging from those red velvet walls behind their stupid smiling faces.
Tessa and Darcy are close to me in age, but they’re a few months older so they already have their full powers, and they use them to their every advantage, trust me. Darcy probably has more power than me and Tessa combined, and she’s never shy about boasting about it and the doors it’s opened for her. I hate the tiny part of me that’s jealous of it too.
Whatever happened to besties before testes? Cauldrons over cocks? Brews before bros?
Or whatever the hell the saying is.
Maybe we weren’t as close as I thought…
Then again, I’m guessing their behavior has something to do with my magic not strengthening today. After all, a witch is only as important as her power level in our society.
Complete cauldron of shit if you ask me. But when that’s what a society revolves around… it’s hard not to fall into that trap. It’s a witch-eat-witch world out here.
A headache forms behind my eyes, and I shut off my phone screen and shove it into my pocket before shaking out my limbs, trying to loosen up. It’s my birthday for crying out loud and there’s no way I’m going to spend it upset over two, no good rotten witches.
Rue Delacroix, party of one.
First things first though… Alcohol. I’d like to say I don’t need the liquid courage, but I most definitely do. Plus, I think I deserve a little, considering how my day has gone so far.
Sweeping my gaze over the nightclub, I find there’s an actual DJ controlling the music, spinning the tracks on a tiny stage at the very back. At least they have that going for them. I’m not a fan of the clubs who have an automated playlist that cycle through the same overplayed party songs again and again. Nothing compares to a real DJ.
To the right is a swanky, roped off VIP section with a lot more than dancing happening, like the vampire with her teeth currently sunk into a fae’s neck whose face is contorted in utter bliss. I’ve heard that it can be quite an erotic sensation if the interaction is consensual, but I’ve never been brave enough to try it myself. I quickly dismiss the VIP section in my search for the bar.
Standing up on my tiptoes to see over the crowd, I finally spot it in the back left corner. It’s surprisingly updated, sleek black siding with gray and silver accents giving it a modern feel. How at odds with where this place is located, though I can’t say I hate the vibe.
There’s an interesting woman behind the ebony-topped counter, her fiery pink hair illuminated in the darkness of the club. She’s shaking some sort of cocktail with a giant smile on her face as she stops to pour it into a glass before handing it to a woman, who if I’m not mistaken, is a pixie. The slight tip to her ears poking through her short bob gives her away.
As I cross the distance to the bar, the bartender’s eyes flick to mine like she couldn’t resist looking over and they widen. Her nostrils flare and her expression turns panicked, making me glance behind me to see what has her so alarmed. There are quite a few people bumping into each other and dancing, nothing out of place. I turn back around, and the bartender is making another drink, no longer looking up and her expression back to a pleasant smile. Huh. I shrug off her weirdness and waltz over, sliding between two stools, tapping my nails on the counter while I wait.
The bartender finishes with the customer and then timidly makes her way toward me. Once again, I glance around me, trying to figure out what’s making her so squirrely, but no one else is paying us any attention. “What can I get for you?” she croaks out, her nostrils flaring again.
What the hell is with this woman?
Do I stink?
I try to inconspicuously sniff my armpits and if she notices, she doesn’t say anything. Only continues to stare at me warily. “I’ll take a shot, something really strong, if you don’t mind.”
Her head tilts to the side and she nods. “Coming right up.”
With practiced hands, she picks up a bottle in the shape of a skull and flips it upside down, somehow managing to not spill a drop. Instead of approaching me again, she opts to slide it down the counter and instantly moves on to the next guest. How rude. I almost ask what her deal is but decide better of it. Maybe she’s having an off night. I slap ten bucks on the counter to pay for my drink and tip. After downing the shot in one gulp, which burns the whole way down, I make my way into the throng of people.
The music is unlike anything I’ve ever heard, almost hypnotic, and my hips automatically sway to the beat. It pounds through my blood, and I close my eyes, tipping my head toward the ceiling, letting the music control my movements, getting lost in the faceless sweaty crowd. Until a very large hand on my hip has my heart skipping a beat, and a smile curls my lips.
My shirt has ridden up from dancing and the barest hint of his skin brushes against mine. It’s enough to send a spark through me, making my nipples tighten and my body temperature rise. The feeling intensifies when the mysterious stranger scoots in closer when it’s obvious I like his attention, shielding my body from the rest of the crowd.
I feel his heartbeat thudding in time to my own, both of us moving to the rhythm in sync, his skin igniting mine where it touches. I offset my hips slightly, just enough to grind against him, causing a soft moan to feather against my neck. The sensation sends a shiver down my spine. Heat radiates between the two of us, burning hotter with each sway of my hips. The feel of his giant erection glides against my ass as he presses in ever closer, and his hold tightens like he doesn’t ever want to let me go.
His fingertips dip lower, sweeping underneath my pants, and it’s as if he took a match, lighting a fire in my veins. We’re already so close, but we need to be closer. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck, and he’s taller than I expect. He leans in so his lips graze my ear, his stubble brushing against the sensitive area. Even in the dim lighting, I make out how muscular his arms are. They’re covered in brown hair, so I’d wager a guess the hair on his head matches. His hands are large, one splaying out on my stomach to keep me against him.
For some reason, I don’t turn around to find out what he looks like. I don’t want to break this illusion between us. The anonymity and his rapt attention are so refreshing. Being able to enjoy the moment without any pressure, any judgment, or talk makes everything even hotter.
Everything but our thudding heartbeats fade, and I lose myself in the movements. Sweat drips down my spine but I ignore it. I ignore everything but the feel of him against me.
Until the music cuts out and the club suddenly becomes quiet. A few patrons are caught off guard, practically screaming whatever they were saying, and the dancing immediately pauses.
“I apologize,” the DJ announces into a microphone. “I’m experiencing technical difficulties. Give me a moment and I’ll have everything back in order.”
The crowd lets out a groan and the DJ puts his hands out placatingly. It’s not his fault, tech is buggy, but without the lull of the beat my anxiety starts to creep in along with my feelings. I don’t like it. And I’m not willing to shatter the anonymous allure of the stranger in my mind. Instead, I extract myself from him, albeit with difficulty because his scent is still swirling in my nostrils.
My heart pangs the further away from him I get, begging me to shove down my anxiety, but I don’t—can’t. “I’m going to the bar,” I murmur as my feet carry me in that direction. I don’t turn around to face him, even though every part of my body wants to explore our connection further.
It might be my imagination, but I swear I hear a husky voice whisper, I’ll find you again, darling.
I shake off a shiver as I cut through the bustling club goers who are all making a beeline for the bar. When I reach the counter, I release a breath. “I need another shot. This time make it the strongest one you’ve got.”