“It’s just Paris. Get in the SUV, Jane.” His voice was still rough but, more Aidan. “I don’t know where that vampire went, and I need to get you out of here.”
She wasn’t about to argue. The night had been more than weird enough, thank you very much. She was ready for it to end. When the SUV rolled to a stop, she jumped in the back, and a naked Aidan followed right behind her. “Scout the area,” Aidan ordered Garrison through the open back door. “See if you can catch the bastard’s scent.”
“I didn’t catch it before,” Garrison admitted glumly as he rubbed his forehead. “The guy just—attacked. No warning. He came from fucking nowhere.”
And that was where he’d gone, too. Just vanished. Disappeared.
Garrison slammed the SUV’s back door shut, sealing them inside.
“Take us to the apartment, Paris,” Aidan said. “As fast as you can.” Then his fingers caught hers. He squeezed her. “You’re safe now.”
But…was she?
Jane looked at his fingers. The claws were gone, but they’d be back. With Aidan, they always were. His beast stayed close.
***
Vincent smiled as he watched the SUV’s tail lights vanish when the vehicle turned the corner.
A successful night.
He’d been able to get a little one-on-one time with Jane. Sure, she’d shot him, but the wound had been worth it.
And as for Aidan Locke…
Now maybe she’ll start to see just what you really are. The guy pretended to be a hero, but he wasn’t. There was nothing heroic about the werewolf. Vincent knew the man’s secrets. Soon enough, he’d make sure that Jane knew them, too.
Vincent swiped his hand over his bleeding throat. He didn’t feel weak, not yet, but the blood loss—both from the bullet wound and Aidan’s attack—wasn’t acceptable. He had to always be at full power, at least while he was in New Orleans.
He slipped down the street, making sure to stay in the shadows. Some of the wolves were searching for him, but they’d gone one way and he’d gone another. Vincent wasn’t about to be captured. If they got too close, well, he could always eliminate them.
Another few turns and he saw a small tour group huddled together. One person stood before the group, wearing a long black cloak.
“This is the LaLaurie Mansion,” the figure in the cloak announced with a dramatic wave of his hands. “Terrible, horrible crimes were committed here by Dr. Louis LaLaurie and his wife Delphine. They tortured their slaves. Performed fiendish experiments…”
A few gasps came from the group as they eyed the house.
They were all busy staring up at the imposing structure. No one noticed him when he slipped toward the group.
There are always stragglers in a group like this…
“Madame LaLaurie was rumored to be the ringleader, the one who ordered one of her servants to have her mouth sewn shut! Madame and her doctor husband created human spiders, they chained their victims to operating room tables…” The tour guide turned away, telling more of his grisly tales as he headed down the street.
The small group followed him.
All except…one woman. She stopped. She tilted up her camera and snapped pictures of the house.
Vincent smiled. “You like…scary stories.”
She gave a little jerk, then turned toward him in surprise. He was still in the shadows. The better for him to hide the blood soaking him. The woman’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail, giving him a delectably tempting view of her neck. She laughed, the sound high and nervous, before she said, “Isn’t that why we’re all on the paranormal tour? Because we like to be scared?”
He wasn’t on any tour.
She turned away. “Better hurry up. The others are getting ahead of us.”
He moved quickly, catching her arm. “I want them to get ahead.”
“G-get your hand off me.”
“I’m sorry.” He was. He didn’t normally feed this way. “But I have a need…”
She twisted against him. The woman opened her mouth to scream—
His left hand clamped over her lips. He bit her, his fangs sinking deep, and her blood spilled onto his tongue.
Chapter Five
Aidan was still asleep. Jane tip-toed around the apartment. Their apartment, she supposed. After her place had been torched, she’d planned to find a new place to live. She was still in that whole new-home hunt. But, meanwhile, Aidan had told her that he kept an apartment in the city, one that they could use for as long as she liked.
He’d had a heavy emphasis on the they part.
The apartment wasn’t Aidan’s home, not his real one, anyway. He had a massive, antebellum mansion—a serious freaking mansion—out in the swamp. But the place was pretty much werewolf central, and Jane didn’t like staying there. The one time she’d visited the place, all hell had truly broken loose.
So she and Aidan had been compromising with the little apartment in the French Quarter. A place that had top of the line security and a real killer view.
She felt safe in that apartment.