Celeste Anwar - Born Of Night

“I’m sorry, chere. What were their names? Nawlins can be an intimate place.”

“Shelly and Jacques LaValle.”

He stiffened and straightened in his seat, setting his coffee down.

Jessica noticed his strange reaction, getting her hopes up. “Do you--did you know them?”

“No, chere, no. I’m sorry.”

Jessica felt downhearted. She was going to find answers, somehow. If she hadn’t cleaned out her adoptive parents’ house after their death in a car crash, she would’ve never known she wasn’t their child. Sometimes she wished she’d never found that damn birth certificate in all that junk. Sometimes she wished things were as they had been. But wishing wasn’t going to get her anywhere but smack in the middle of depression. “Any way, I’m going to the cemetery to see them today.”

“Which one?”

“It’s in the Garden district. I thought maybe I’d take a tour if I find a cheap one.”

“You shouldn’ go dere.”

Jessica blinked at him. “Huh? Why not?”

“It’s dangerous for you.”

Jessica rolled her eyes, finally getting what he was hinting at as she was brought full throttle back to the question he’d conveniently failed to answer. “Don’t tell me you believe that werewolf and vampire crap.”

He didn’t say anything.

“You do!” And here she thought he was normal except for wanting to get in bed with her. Her ego suffered a serious blow. She should’ve known it was too good to be true.

“It’s against pack law for me t’go dere,” he said finally.

It was a shame, really. He was so gorgeous. A beautiful man like that always had to have something wrong with him. “Well, you don’t have to come along. In fact, I’d prefer to be alone when I visit.”

“As you wish, chere. I jus’ hope you can handle yourself. Before you go runnin’

into trouble, why don’ you let me show you aroun’ a liddle?”

Jessica was sorely tempted. She sipped her coffee, considering it. It was still pretty early, not too long after noon. Hell, she could probably talk herself into anything as far as he was concerned--he didn’t have to be charming. “Okay, but you’ll remember to behave yourself, right?”

“I s’pose that depends on what you mean by behavin’, chere. Dis ol’ dog don’ do tricks without a treat.” Gabriel left some cash on the table and slid out of the booth, eyeing her appreciatively as she got up, as well.

“This girl doesn’t give them unless she sees something really special.”

Gabriel looked affronted as they headed out. “You sayin’ I’m no’ sometin’ special, chere? You don’ like my tricks so far?”

Jessica suppressed a laugh and walked along the building shaded street. The wind flirted in her hair and skirt, flashing a length of thigh. She caught him staring, and a little thrill shot through her. She grinned, feeling unaccustomedly saucy. “You remind me a little of Pepe Le Pew.”

He choked. “I stink?”

Jessica burst out in laughter. “No. You smell really good, actually--maybe too good.” And maybe she shouldn’t have admitted that. “No, I feel a little like the poor cat is all.”

He grinned, moving closer. “Hunted? Loved?” He caught her hand. “You wan’ me to kiss you all over and whisper French into your ear?” His kissed up her arm to her neck, making noisy smacking sounds.

Jessica screamed and giggled, and pulled her arm free before running down the street. He chased after her, ignoring the strange looks others cast their way. He caught her before she could elude him, took them into the shelter of a doorway.

Jessica felt breathless from her run and looked around, saw that they were virtually alone, and the shop was abandoned. He had a knack for finding cozy, lonely spots.

She glanced up at him to see him grinning down at her.

He leaned back on the opposite side, keeping some space between them.

“You gonna start callin’ me Pepe now?”

Jessica chuckled. “It crossed my mind. I’m mean, aren’t I?”

“Maybe a liddle. I like a mean woman though.”

“Hey! You’re not supposed to agree with me.” She mock kicked his shin.

He rubbed his leg with his opposite foot. “Ow. You know how to kill d’romance, chere. I don’ mind a liddle beatin’ now and den, but dis? Aren’ you s’posed to tie me up first before you have your wicked way wid me?”

Gabriel really knew how to implant a mental picture. Just imaging him naked, tied, and spread-eagled on a bed gave her hot flashes. “Uh. I’m not into that. And you, you’re changing the subject. Admit it. Don’t you think you come on too strong?”

Truth be told, it wasn’t him that was the problem, it was her. He was perfect. She just wasn’t used to a hot pursuit, particularly not from a man she actually wanted.

He shrugged. “I got to work fast. No time to take it slow.” He gave her a sultry grin.

“Besides, it’s workin’, ain’t it?”

She had no idea what he meant by that statement, but that smile said enough. She wasn’t going to admit just how much he tempted her to do all the wicked things she shouldn’t be doing. “No. As a matter of fact, you’re really just wasting your time.”

The look on his face said he didn’t believe her. “Why do you fight so hard, petite?

Why can’ you jus’ feel?”

Jessica’s humor vanished. She was forcibly reminded of past mistakes, of letting people get too close. Her self-esteem was bad about getting beaten, but she preferred to think of herself as a realist. Beautiful people stuck with other beautiful people, and she most definitely wasn’t in their class. “I’m afraid I’ll get addicted,”

she admitted, slanting him a look. “Guys like you don’t stick around, especially not with girls like me.”

“You sell yourself short,” he said softly.

Jessica shrugged. She wasn’t when it was the truth. “It’s better than getting hurt.”

“Livin’ in a shell ain’t really livin’ at all”

Hadn’t she heard that over and over again? She shrugged again, trying to be nonchalant. “I’m used to it. I like not feeling anything, especially with men. I like my life simple and uncomplicated. Love is so messy.”

“Some say it’s no’ good if it ain’t dirty and sticky.”

“Yeah, well, not me. I’m a clean freak. And I like freedom.”

As she talked, she sensed a growing tension in Gabriel, like some dark cloud building for a storm. She didn’t know what she’d said to piss him off, but she was definitely getting that vibe from him. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a way to dig herself out of her hole without really knowing what she’d done--only dug in deeper with her rambling. Finally, she dared to look up at him and saw his face had gone hard, his eyes cold and angry.

He stared at her a long, drawn moment, knotting her stomach with nervousness at his continued silence. It seemed he’d listened to every word she’d said--and he hadn

’t liked a one of them. “When I kiss you, you don’ feel nothin’?”

She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. “No,” she lied.

He was on her before she could blink, trapping her with an arm on either side of her head, his face inches from her own. Energy seemed to vibrate from him, forcing her still, forcing her insides to react. She could feel the heat of his breath on her face, felt enveloped by his subtle, masculine scent. Every nerve ending reached out to him, reached to feel his body press tightly against her. He didn’t close the distance, didn’t meld to her. Somehow, that near touching had her reacting more than if he’d been right up against her.

His voice low, husky, and full of promise, he said, “If I kiss you like dis, your breath don’ catch?”