Night Huntress 00.5 - Reckoning
Jeaniene Frost
PROLOGUE February 16, 2004
New Orleans
Eric swallowed the last of his beer and then set the empty bottle on the sidewalk. Not my fault there isn’t a trash can nearby, he thought, ignoring the glare the tour guide gave him. The brunette off to his right didn’t seem to mind. She smiled at him in a way that made him glad he’d blown off his buddies to take this stupid haunted tour.
“… in front of us is the LaLaurie house,” the guide went on, gesturing to the big gray structure on the corner of Royal Street
. “This is reputedly one of the most haunted places in the French Quarter. Here, in the mid–eighteen hundreds, an untold number of slaves were tortured and murdered by Dr. Louis LaLaurie and his wife, Delphine…”
Eric sidled closer to the hot brunette, who didn’t seem to be paying any more attention to the guide than he was. She was thin, the way he liked ’em, and though her tits weren’t big, she had great legs and a nice ass. Her face was pretty, too, now that he noticed.
“Hey. I’m Eric. ’S your name?” he asked, fighting back his slur. Smile. Look interested.
“Where are your friends?” she asked. She had an accent that sounded French, and it was a weird question. But she smiled when she said it, her eyes raking over him in a way that woke his cock up.
“They’re at Pat O’Brien’s,” Eric said, with a vague wave. The guide was glaring at him more pointedly now, going on about the LaLaurie’s medical experiments on their slaves and other weird, gross shit he didn’t want to listen to. “You wanna grab a drink?”
The brunette came closer, until she was right next to him and her nipples practically brushed his chest. “I’m in the mood for more than a drink. Aren’t you?”
Oh yeah. He had definite liftoff in his pants. “Baby, like you wouldn’t believe.”
Eric glanced around to find a few people staring at him. Okay, he’d said that a little loud.
“I’ve got a room at the Dauphine,” he tried again, softer. “We could go there—”
“My place is closer,” she interrupted him, taking his hand. Firm grip, too. “Come with me.”
She led him down the street, weaving past people and throwing those fuck-me smiles over her shoulder at him every so often. Eric was excited. He’d been here three days and hadn’t gotten laid yet. It was about time he got some strange on this trip.
The girl took him down an alley, walking just as quickly as before, even though he had a hard time seeing where they were going. He tripped on something—a bottle, probably—but she just tugged on his arm at the same moment, keeping him upright.
“Hey.” He grinned. “Nice reflexes.”
She muttered something he didn’t understand, and not just because he was drunk.
“Is that French?” Eric asked.
Her dark hair swung as she glanced back at him. “Oui. Yes.”
“Cool.”
She led him up a fire escape at the end of the alley, opened an unlocked door at the landing, and propelled him inside. The lights were off, wherever they were, but this must be her place. She locked it behind him and then her smile grew wider.
“I am going to eat you,” she said in a sexy, accented purr that made him even harder.
Eric grabbed her, squeezing that beautiful ass while he kissed her. She opened her mouth, letting his tongue explore inside while he ground himself against her. Rubber’s in my back pocket, Eric reminded himself. A chick this easy might have something.
She put her arms around his neck, holding on to him like she was desperate for it. Eric fumbled with the front of his pants. Right here, right now worked for him, too.
He’d gotten his pants unzipped and his hands up her short skirt, when she clamped down on his tongue with her teeth. And yanked her head back.
Eric screamed, staring in horror at the blood around her mouth when she smiled at him again. His tongue throbbed like it was on fire.
“Crazy bitch,” he tried to say, but it came out sounding like “’aaazy ’itch.” Blood was still pouring from his tongue, and when he felt the tip of it… there wasn’t one anymore.
“You fucking whore!” Eric spat, not caring if she understood the garbled words or not. His fist came up—and then he was falling end over end, until he reached the bottom with a thud that made his head feel like it had split.
For a stunned second, Eric lay there. Stairs, it occurred to him. Bitch pushed me down a flight of stairs. He felt the first stirrings of fear mixing with his anger.
A light flicked on in the room and Eric jerked, blinking for a minute at the brightness before the images focused.