Part 17 (1/2)
Nothing was as important as family and pack. Family was everything. He filled his head with images of this instead, his undying need to keep his people safe, including her. He felt a flutter of disappointment from her as she slipped out of his mind.
Irritated, he narrowed his eyes. ”I have a pack to lead. They're my responsibility, just as you are. My joie de vivre is not losing any more of my people.”
Jamie sagged against the staircase, her color blanching. She'd expended too much energy. But her voice was filled with spirit and pa.s.sion.
”You think everyone is out to get your people. Maybe fate steered me to infect you with that disease and make you so sick because for the first time, you were lost. You were helpless and couldn't beat it, if not for Nicolas healing you. Sometimes you need to give up everything to get back your life.”
Her accusations stung worse than the wasps. Damian glared at her. ”I never give up.”
”You never take risks, either. Life is about challenge and adventure, not just danger and hurt.” She took a deep breath. ”I know all about how life can spin you around like a crazy carnival ride until you just want to scream, but it doesn't stop. So you have to hang on for the moment, and then when it slows and you're finally able to get off, laugh and find your joy again because if you don't you'll end up like I was.”
Her voice dropped to the barest whisper. ”In the shadows, alive but really dead, like I was with the Morphs.”
He was silent for a moment, then spoke in a deep, weary voice. ”Sometimes there is nothing but shadows.”
”What happened, Damian? What happened to you that you forgot how to live?”
Annie died. I held her body in my arms and realized the d.a.m.n consequences of my actions, my neglect.
Damian gave her a long, cool look. ”I've lived, Jamie. I've lived through attacks on my people, through watching people I've known, even loved, turn evil and seeing blood and violence and death. I've done so for eighty years so don't lecture me about living.”
He stiffened as she drew near. Jamie took his hand, running her fingers over his knuckles. ”Oh, Damian,” she said softly. ”That's life. But that isn't living.”
His eyes closed, and a shudder went through him as she gently stroked. He wanted to crush her against him, kiss her senseless then lower her to the floor and put his mouth on her.
Make her come, again and again. Then finally open his trousers and free his erection, and mount her. Making her his at last.
”It's my life. It suits me fine,” he said tightly.
”Of course you're too old to change.” Challenge shone in her gray eyes.
”I'm not that old,” he muttered.
”Prove it. Come out with me tonight. We'll hit bars, whatever hits your fancy and mine. Be spontaneous.”
He placed his palm over hers, covering her hand as if trapping a winged insect. ”You're not going out.”
”Are you saying you, the big bad wolf who would give his life for his people, can't protect me from the dangers of Bourbon Street?”
Caught. And but good. Challenging him like this, daring him. Her hand still entrapped, she lifted both of his to her lips, gave his right knuckles a long, slow lick. He stifled a moan, feeling his groin tighten.
”Come on, Damian,” she purred in a sultry tone. ”Let's go out and live for the moment.”
”After dinner. We're all eating together tonight. As a family.”
He didn't miss her wary look. It s.h.i.+fted into a sultry pout. ”Please, just you and me? I just want us to go out on the town.”
Jamie ran a hand up his arm, her touch igniting him inside. Warmth nudged aside intense s.e.xual heat, layering it with a deeper, more tender affection. He savored her touch.
”You truly want this?”
She nodded.
Damian sang a Cajun tune softly as he sc.r.a.ped the heavy beard off his cheeks. Steam misted the air from the shower. With a towel about his waist, he stared pensively into the mirror. Full moon approaching. He could shave every hour and still sport dark bristle an hour later.
Sensing a presence, he turned and saw Jamie gawking through the open doorway. Her fascinated gaze dropped from the hair covering his chest, down to the towel tied tightly about his midsection. A knowing smile touched his mouth as he toyed with the knot.
”Get dressed, Jamie.”
”I don't need to get dressed up for Bourbon Street.”
”Fine. I'll go like this.”
He pulled the towel free. She gasped and scampered away as it dropped to the floor. His soft laughter followed as she ran into the bedroom.
Twenty minutes later, he joined her downstairs. Her knee-length red dress billowed out with her graceful pivot. The neckline was V-shaped, with long sleeves. She clutched a small red purse covered with sequins, her gray hands covered with smart lacy black gloves. Breath caught in his throat.
”You're lovely,” he managed to say.
”You look very handsome,” she said, sounding shy.
Damian grinned, rolling his shoulders beneath the black Armani jacket. He held out his arm in a courtly gesture. ”Shall we?”
As they walked on the sidewalk, he tried to relax. If this would make Jamie happy, and help her learn to trust him, he'd do it.
When they reached Ursuline and Royal, Jamie paused. A group huddled together before the Ursuline Convent. The soft glow of a flickering lantern illuminated their fascinated expressions.
”Vampire tour,” she realized. ”Let's tag along. I love these things. People have the strangest reactions sometimes to the stories.” She squeezed his arm playfully. ”Some even believe in ghosts.”
”Flakes,” he muttered.
They eased behind the group of about fifteen people. Enthralled with the tour guide's hushed narration, no one noticed them. The guide was explaining the local legend. ”When the convent was a school, girls from France arrived with large, mysterious trunks. It was later thought vampires were transported in those trunks.”
”Vampires from France, traveling in cheap trunks. Everyone knows vampires wouldn't be caught dead in anything but Gucci,” Damian muttered.
”Hush, I'm trying to hear,” she whispered.
”I'm trying to make a spontaneous joke,” he whispered back.
An adorable half smile lit her face. He dissolved into pure longing, wanting nothing more than to kiss her. Grimly he thought of the ugliest Morph to pare down his l.u.s.t.
The tour guide gestured to the dormer windows. ”And the girls, it's said, became vampires after the trunks were stored in the attic. The nuns closed it off, and never allowed anyone up there, fearing to unleash the evil inside....”
Damian gave a low, deep growl. A woman clutched her companion's arm and shrieked. ”Did you hear that? Wolves!”
Damian grinned. Jamie was right. This was fun.