Epilogue #2
The place was packed, as were all the bars near Bourbon Street this time of year.
The final parade of the evening had ended hours ago, giving the humans plenty of time to get shit-faced and the vampires a smorgasbord of unsuspecting victims. Mardi Gras and New Year’s Eve were the only times a vampire was allowed to bite inside a bar.
All other times of the year, they were required to have their meals in a secluded courtyard, an alleyway, or a bathroom stall, depending on how classy the vampire was.
“Vodka’s nice too.” Gaston followed a blonde onto the tiny dance floor, and Ethan leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and taking in the chaotic scene.
Patrons shouted their orders at bartenders, who rushed behind the bar, filling glasses and opening bottles, running credit cards and taking cash. An ass filled every seat in the room, but three-quarters of the patrons stood, laughing and talking with old and newfound friends.
Twenty-five years ago, Ethan might have enjoyed it. He liked to let loose every now and then, until the night he lost his fiancée, Vanessa.
He closed his eyes for a long blink, making room for the pain expanding in his chest. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit the ache had subsided over the years. But the pain was all he had left of the woman he’d loved, and he wasn’t ready to let her go.
He let it resonate for another moment or two before opening his eyes and returning to the present. He’d never forgive himself for what happened to Vanessa, and he didn’t deserve happiness. Not an ounce of it.
Shaking his head, he pushed from the wall and headed toward the dance floor. He’d given Gaston enough time to get his fill; it was time to go.
He maneuvered through the throng of people and made it halfway to his destination before a brunette stumbled into him. She fell backward, but he caught her by the shoulders, setting her on her feet with ease.
“Wow. Either you’re really strong, or I’ve lost a few pounds since I last looked in the mirror.” Her smile drew the air from his lungs, and though he technically didn’t need to breathe, shock brought out his human instincts, making him cough.
She had long brown hair, chocolate eyes, and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.
Her voluptuous curves made his fingers twitch with the urge to run his hands along the peaks and valleys of her gorgeous body.
The woman looked so much like Vanessa, his body seized.
He stood motionless, staring at her as he calculated the time in his head. Could it be?
“Are you okay?” She touched his shoulder, and something inside him burned.
He composed himself, making sure his fangs hadn’t extended, and smiled. “I’m fine.”
“Yes, you are.” Her friend, a tall blonde, handed her two shot glasses, and they both tossed them back, one after the other. The blonde smelled like warm cinnamon and cider. Like a witch. “You should do shots with us. I’ll go get more.”
“That’s okay,” he said, but she was already on her way to the bar.
“She’s trying to drunk me…get me drunk.” The brunette hiccupped and stumbled again.
“I’m afraid you already are.” Ethan tapped a man on the shoulder and motioned with his head for him to give up his seat. The guy blinked, then got up without protest, Ethan’s vampire glamour working its magic. “Have a seat. What’s your name?”
“Jane.” She sank onto the stool, rubbing her forehead.
“I’m Ethan.”
“You’re right.”
He tilted his head. “I hope I know my own name.”
“No, I mean I’m drunk. I don’t feel very good.” She held her stomach.
“Shots, shots, shots!” Her friend returned, carrying three glasses filled with bright yellow liquid. “I don’t know what these are, but the bartender promised they’re good.”
“Sophie.” Jane squinted at her through bloodshot eyes.
“I believe Jane has had enough.” Ethan held up his hands, refusing to accept the drink Sophie shoved toward him.
“Fuck you.” Sophie drank her shot and the one she’d bought for him. “Nobody tells Jane Anderson what to do.” She handed Jane the glass. “Drink up, babe.”
“Except for you, I see.” Ethan crossed his arms.
Sophie gaped, and when Jane didn’t drink her shot, she took the glass and set it on the bar.
“Look, I don’t know who you think you are with your looming presence and pecs you could bounce a quarter off of.
” She pressed her fingers into his chest. “Wow. Is your ass this tight?” She shook her head. “Who are you again?”
“Good evening, ladies.” Gaston approached from the dance floor, and Sophie gave him a once-over, cocking a brow like she wasn’t impressed.
“It’s time to go home, Soph.” Jane leaned her head on the bar. “I don’t think I’ll make it much longer.”
“It would be an honor to escort you both.” Gaston bowed formally, and Ethan caught a glimpse of fang as he smiled.
“Oh, no. That’s not happening.” Sophie crossed her arms and squeezed her eyes shut. “We can make it on our own. We can…” She swayed and opened her watery eyes. “Shit. I’m starting to feel those shots.” She spun toward a trash can and spewed the alcohol and part of her dinner into the bin.
“Get them out of here.” The bartender pointed to Ethan and jerked a thumb toward the door.
Jane rested peacefully on the bar, while Sophie leaned a forearm against the wall, dry-heaving into the trash can.
“I think I’m done.” Sophie stepped toward Ethan and doubled over.
She was definitely not done. Vomit hit the floor, splashing onto his shoes, the sharp, tangy scents of alcohol and pineapple juice burning his nostrils. Jane’s head slipped off the bar, and he caught her before she could fall out of her chair.
“You know how to pick them, my friend.” Gaston touched Sophie’s arm, and she yanked away.
“We’re not going anywhere with you. C’mon, Jane.” She reached toward her friend, and Jane slid off the stool, stumbling into Ethan again. They wouldn’t make it to the door without help, much less all the way back to their hotel.
Gaston shook his head, making a tsk sound as he brushed his fingers to Sophie’s temple, activating his glamour. “You will allow us to escort you to your hotel.”
Sophie’s expression went blank for a moment before she blinked, scrunching her forehead and turning to Jane. “Maybe we should let them take us. Our rental house is all the way on Esplanade. We can’t walk that far.”
“We don’t need an escort,” Jane said as adamantly as her current state of inebriation would allow. At least she had some of her wits intact, but how long would it last before someone took advantage of her vulnerability?
Ethan wiped his shoes with a napkin as Gaston gestured with his head toward Jane, but he hesitated to use his glamour. She, and this entire situation, reminded him so much of Vanessa, he wasn’t sure his undead heart could handle being so close to her.
But he had to see these women to their hotel. If he could get them back safely, maybe he could atone for his sins. He slid his fingers into her soft, dark hair, focusing his magic to ensure her trust in him. “We’ll take you to your rental house. I promise you’ll be safe.”
Jane’s face slackened, and a pang of guilt shot through Ethan’s chest. He would have preferred she trust him willingly, but with the pair of bouncers approaching from the left and the manager giving him the stink eye, he didn’t have time to woo her with his charm. Not that he had any to begin with.
He pulled her to his side, lifting her slightly to feign the appearance that she could walk, and carried her out of the bar. Too many monsters lurked in the shadows of the French Quarter, most of them human, and he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to the women.
Especially since—judging by the way his body was reacting—this Jane could very well be his Vanessa reincarnated.
His body hummed at the thought, and his fangs instinctively elongated, his mouth watering with the desire to taste her. If she’d been sober, he wouldn’t have been able to help himself, but he’d spend eternity rotting in hell before he’d ingest another drop of alcohol.
“Keys, Gaston.” He held out his hand as they approached his sire’s jet-black Maserati Quattroporte in the parking lot.
Gaston hit the key fob, unlocking the car, but he kept the keys clutched tightly as he lowered Sophie into the back seat. Ethan settled Jane in the front passenger side and buckled the seatbelt across her lap before zipping over to the driver’s door and blocking Gaston’s entrance.
“Step aside, young man,” Gaston said.
Ethan held out his hand again. “Keys.”
“You, sir, are mad as a hatter if you presume I’ll allow you to drive Genevieve. She’s the only bit of modern technology worthwhile in this day and age.”
“And you’re batshit crazy if you think I’m letting you drive.” He snatched the keys from Gaston. “This was part of the deal. You bring Genevieve into the city, but I drive her home, remember?”
Gaston narrowed his eyes. “Even drunk out of my mind, my senses are a hundred times sharper than a sober human’s.”
“I don’t care.”
“You really aren’t any fun at all, my friend.” He touched a fang with the tip of his tongue as he eyed Sophie in the back seat.
“Don’t even think about drinking from her. We promised to get them home safely.”
“Boring,” Gaston sang as he sank into the back seat.
“I’ll oblige you this one. I’m still rather full from the bar, and I’m not sure what kind of magic she possesses.
If she belongs to the coven, I’d hate to break our truce.
” He gently shut the door, running his hand along the leather armrest, caressing his precious car. “I do miss the taste of witches.”
With the slightest pressure on the gas pedal, the car zipped through the streets, cornering like it was on rails. Speed and power. It was a car fit for a vampire, much more appropriate than Ethan’s sensible Ford Taurus.
Ethan’s glamour had sobered Jane enough for her to give him directions, and she sat quietly in the passenger seat, grinning at him as he rolled to a stop in front of the rental house, a white, two-story Second Empire style with green shutters and a balcony.
Jane had a disarming smile, and his overwhelming need to see her to safety convinced him this was fate.
He’d been given another chance, and he would not fail this time.
“Shall we rid ourselves of the baggage and return to the fun?” Gaston slid from the car and carried Sophie to the front door.
Ethan rolled his eyes and helped Jane out of the car.
“Did he just call us baggage?” she asked.
“Ignore him. He’s old and ornery.”
She giggled. “I like you. You’re funny. Sweet too.”
If that were only true. “You don’t know me.”
“I’m an excellent judge of character.” That had to be the glamour talking. She’d completely misjudged him.
He’d seen her home safely tonight, but even through the alcohol, the scent of her blood sang. She’d be a temptation for any vampire who got near her, and the thought of another person’s fangs piercing Jane’s neck made his muscles crawl beneath his skin.
He couldn’t let anyone else have her, so, brushing his fingers across her forehead, he marked her. The temporary magic would glow in her aura for a week, making her off-limits to any other vamps while her body replenished her blood supply. Some of the SWO regulations had their merits.
As he pulled his hand away, something in his core snapped, like a glow stick cracking and coming to life.
Funny, he’d never felt that sensation before.
Then again, he was supposed to drink from her before he marked her.
It had been against the law to mark humans without consuming their blood for the past hundred years, ever since some asshat decided he wanted every woman in New Orleans for himself and went around marking them all, leaving the rest of the vamps to fight over the men.
Still, it was a minor law to break, and it wasn’t like anyone would find out. He scanned the sidewalk for signs of the British constable just to be sure.
No one saw him do it, so no harm done.
By the time he walked her to the porch, Gaston had returned to the car and laid on the horn. Impatient bastard.
“Goodnight, sweet Jane.” He kissed her hand, and the light that she’d sparked inside him glowed a little brighter.
“Thank you. You’re a good man.” She smiled and closed the door.