2. Nic

Chapter 2

Fuck. Yesterday, I'd held the very thing that would complete my full ascension to my father's throne in my arms—and I'd watched her run away. It wasn't like I could chase her down the sidewalk, though. People frowned on that kind of thing these days.

I sighed. It shouldn't be too hard to find that specific virgin again, though. It wasn't like the world was teeming with them anymore. And none had ever affected me quite like the brunette with the startling green eyes. Her scent alone… nothing screamed virgin quite like it.

In fact, something screamed mine.

I made it a habit to stay far away from humans. Fucking humans. But the virgin issue… I'd hoped to put it off for longer. Hadn't even really been looking. Mother was more anxious than I was, wanting me to make my final ascension to the throne. I was king in name—the rightful heir, but open to challenge before I claimed a pure woman…or something like that. I thought it all rather ridiculous, even though I knew I'd follow through on the lore one day, if only to cement my claim to the throne in the eyes of my people.

But Mother believed in all the old lore—the pent-up sexual energy of a virgin, the burst of power it would offer me, and the longevity her blood would grant. There were all kinds of rules I could only half-remember. Virginity had to be offered willingly—the energy would only work if freely given and couldn't be taken by force.

I wasn't so sure. None of what Mother said seemed to work with the modern world anymore… And the stuff about true mates? I'd always imagined it to be fairytales, something to hope for but not to expect…

But fuck, that kiss.

I stood in my closet, surrounded by the clothing that defined my entire image. All the shades of black. I selected a shirt—wrinkle free, of course—and a jacket to match my pants as I ignored yesterday's shirt, carefully arranged on a hanger and hooked over one of the small door handles that opened individual cupboards for me to peruse ties or shoes.

Every now and then, I tortured myself by wandering closer to that shirt, by inhaling until I filled my chest with the most tantalizing scent I'd ever fucking inhaled.

My cock jerked in my pants as I drew the breaths, as I engaged in the sweet torture of closing my eyes and allowing my nose to linger close to the fabric, stirring the memories of the woman I'd wrapped in my arms…at least until she pushed me away, forcing me to return to my senses and reclaim my control.

I'd been moments away from thrusting into her on the sidewalk and claiming her as mine.

I palmed my cock as it twitched again at the memory of the woman I'd allowed to run. I'd been on my way to a meeting when I detected her scent, like a siren call meant only for me, and I'd made Jenkins pull over.

But I hadn't meant to get out of the car. Or approach her.

Or fucking kiss her.

Because now I couldn't stop thinking about her.

And that wouldn't do. I knew how to control myself at all times.

Only I hadn't controlled myself outside that grocery store. I'd run on instinct. Centuries old instinct I'd never even known existed. Or I hadn't believed in it anyway.

Something else lurked below that kiss. Something other than merely virgin.

My cock swelled further under my touch, and I swallowed a groan. I'd already taken myself in hand to thoughts of the woman when I got home last night… Then in the shower this morning… And now I hungered for her again.

But I glanced at my watch. My body would have to wait for relief and release. I had a meeting at work I couldn't be late for. And today I would channel all of my frustration into making people pay.

I grabbed my jacket and shoved my arms into the sleeves then strode through the door—but not before I breathed in deeply by that damn shirt again. I'd never been so fucking tempted.

And I resented the temptation, because it brought a whole new set of problems to my door. I didn't spend my time with humans. And I certainly didn't run around kissing them like my soul would catch fire if I didn't.

I glanced around the meeting room at La Petite Mort and inhaled the mix of greed, lust and loss of control that seeped in from the casino beyond the closed door. The casino floor remained within my view through the giant one-way mirror that looked out over the main game room.

Even though it was still early in the day, tables were occupied, my dealers were busy, customers were drinking, and most were losing their money.

Yes, the day already smelled like success.

Success and one fucking human virgin who seemed to have invaded my actual blood.

"Benedict." I looked at my best friend and the man I trusted with all aspects of my life. "Have you prepared the list?"

Something about calling debts in today appealed to my sense of control. The house always won, after all. And it was a good outlet for my frustration. Something else to focus on so I didn't have to consider the family battle my discovery of such a tantalizing virgin might ignite.

Benedict grimaced and slid five buff-colored files of paperwork across the table between us. "Each of these individuals owes more than one-hundred thousand dollars. One of them owes very much more than that."

Jason, my bodyguard, whistled then held his hands up when I glanced at him. "Seems like a lot to let get away, that's all."

I grinned, sure it wasn't a pleasant expression. "That's why I'm not."

A ripple of laughter ran around the table as members of my staff sought to ingratiate themselves with me.

"I think you'll definitely find the top one most fascinating of all. It's the one with the most debt, but also the most interesting things to call in." Benedict tapped it with the end of his pen. "And he's been calling to try to extend his line of credit."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow and flipped the folder open.

It all looked fairly standard, and I murmured aloud as I perused the usual conditions.

"He put his bar up as collateral—among other things. Check the most recent sub-clause." There was amusement in Benedict's voice.

I stiffened. "His bar?" Suddenly I spoke through fangs that threatened to descend to their full length as the details behind the file came into sharp focus and the first flickers of anger claimed me.

"Yes." Benedict wasn't bothered by my sudden display of temper, but some of my other staff shrank away. "And like I said, he's been calling on the phone since yesterday. Obviously got himself into some more…difficulties."

"Fucking humans." My voice was a low growl.

But Benedict laughed. "I thought you didn't believe in that?"

And just like that, my mind was immediately back with the woman from outside the store, and my dick twitched. But I swallowed down the sudden whisper of desire and recalled my anger before setting Jean Boucher's file to one side while Benedict talked me through the other collections cases.

I glanced back at the Boucher file for the rest of the morning, though. Stupid fucking drunk. Only reason I gave him a tab in the first place was because I'd known his family a long time. Well, his wife's family. Boucher had walked into a sweet setup of a marriage with the daughter of one of Baton Rouge's oldest families.

A family I'd known since the beginning here, and a bar I'd frequented nearly as long throughout the decades. I'd watched over every generation of that family, and it had only taken one drunk man with a weakness for giving his money away to bring everything tumbling around his ears.

It seemed he'd built his newest house with my cards, and I was about to bring it all toppling down.

Guilt gnawed at me, though. I'd lost touch with the family around the time of Camille's marriage to Jean, too caught up with Father's descent into his long, slow demise and my inevitable rise to the throne to bother with the only humans I seemed capable of tolerating. Even their presence had irritated me at the time, so I'd cut all ties and focused on my future role, doing my best to prepare and forge the alliances that would sustain me through my transition from heir to king.

Regret was a useless emotion, but I sighed as I stood and walked to the window, looking out over the humans who couldn't see me, the ones who might get lucky every now and again, but who would ultimately lose. Because I wanted to win. I controlled their every moment in here. There were no clocks, so they wasted hours of daylight, never aware when sunset passed to night or sunrise to day. The seats were just comfortable enough to relax into before the play at another table attracted their attention, and the high-stakes slots in another room played a celebratory tune no matter the size of the win.

Here, these humans were mine.

Only now, what Jean Boucher had was also mine. He might as well have gift wrapped it with a bow and presented it to me.

I rested my fist briefly on the glass. I'd long since become immune to the stupidity of humans, how they always reached in vain for the unattainable, but every now and again one of them surprised me with the extent of their belief that they would triumph despite the odds.

And in this particular case, I couldn't help but feel sympathy for the long line of family members I'd watched toil to build their small but worthy Baton Rouge empire—an empire that only took the mistakes of one man to crush. They kind of felt like my family, in some odd and remote way, and it would please me to watch Jean Boucher pay for his fucking stupidity.

Guilt at neglecting them for so long washed through me again, but that kind of sentimentality was ridiculous. Humans meant nothing to me, and Father's decline had needed to be hidden for as long as possible. It had taken all of my attention.

But I would make Jean pay now. It would help work out some of my frustration if nothing else.

"Nic?" Benedict's tone suggested this wasn't the first time he'd spoken my name as a question.

"Yes?" I threw the terse reply over my shoulder, barely even glancing behind me.

"I asked if you'd seen the sub-clause I mentioned." My friend sounded like this particularly interested him, but anger over the fact that it just took one dumbfuck in a long line of decent people to screw up a good thing still caused tension in my muscles.

The plantation home and bar Jean Boucher had gambled away had been in Baton Rouge nearly as long as I had, and I'd always taken a little comfort in knowing they were both here unchanged. An immortal life was a long one with many changes, and I'd taken my comfort in a constant.

I grinned ruefully. That probably made me the dumbfuck.

"I remember the sub-clause." I turned away from watching the people gambling their lives away. Gambling their lives to me.

"Doesn't it interest you?" Benedict quirked his eyebrow, but I shrugged.

"Not particularly. What's an extra piece of collateral wagered by a drunkard?" I took my seat and flipped through the paperwork again. The outstanding amount on his tab probably didn't even reflect what he'd poured into La Petite Mort over the years.

When he'd stopped having free cash to plow into his habit, he'd turned to credit. To his house. To his bar. To other valuable things.

"I'll collect this debt myself." I shoved the file from me, disgust at Boucher making my movements sharp.

"You?" There went Benedict's fucking eyebrow quirking again, and with good reason.

My entire staff was well aware of my thinly concealed intolerance of humans, but I needed to do something that wasn't demanded of a new king. I wanted to just be a casino owner again, needed some action.

But being a casino owner didn't negate the fact that I was now king, and I'd spoken, and Benedict had dared question me, so I glared at him. And at every other fucker at the table for good measure. They all dropped their gazes, suddenly busy with other files. Any other files.

"What do you need me to do?" Jason asked. He was the only one I didn't scare, which was endearing when I was in a good mood and frustrating when I wasn't. But beyond being my bodyguard, he was also my sireling, and he never had anything to fear from me because that bond between us was strong.

"Get legal to draw up the paperwork we require to call in Boucher's debts. All of his debts." I passed the file to Jason so he'd be able to follow my instructions.

He tucked it under his arm and slid his phone from his pocket. "I'll call them now."

"No."

He looked at me.

"No. You go there, and you fucking stand over them. Make yourself at home in their office. We do this today." I watched Jason until he all but saluted.

I needed this win today, this control, to take my mind off the human woman. I couldn't dedicate time to finding her today, so I needed something else to focus on. I'd find her later, though. Find her and explore all of the delicious opportunities her scent offered, so fucking help me.

A human. I could hardly stand to think about it, even though I'd known this day would come if my mother was correct in her superstitions. It wasn't like virgin vampires still existed.

"Let me know when you've got the paperwork. Benedict, I'll leave you to handle the rest of these files."

Benedict nodded as I left the room and strode to my office. Jason was already on his phone, warning our legal team of his impending arrival.

I grabbed my gun from my safe and secured it in the shoulder holster under my suit jacket. Technically, I absolutely didn't need a gun. I was quite capable of… I grinned… neutralizing any threat without the use of firearms. However, and also on a technicality, I absolutely needed the gun. I couldn't reveal myself as vampire to humans because we weren't supposed to actually exist, never mind roam among them. We pretty much all obeyed the creed—even the newly turned ones. And those who didn't… Well, we dealt with them. Just not with guns.

Still, I was seeing humans today, and sometimes a gun was the only way to scare them. It was what they understood.

Although usually my natural charm was scary enough on its own.

Jason knocked on my door very quickly with the contracts I needed, and soon I was in my limo and heading to Jean Boucher's plantation property just outside town. I remained quiet as we sped along, my mind alternating between the task at hand and the woman from last night. Desire flared through me again, but I restrained it by refocusing on the contract, reading it over, preparing for all the arguments Boucher would likely have.

He didn't deserve to keep the properties his wife's family had worked so hard to establish and maintain. They were both better off with me. I couldn't do anything else for Camille and her ancestors, but maybe I could rescue what Jean had ruined.

The stores and concrete soon gave way to open land and trees. It was boggy out here but the Boucher house was in a nice area, and I could probably make it quite useful or lucrative. I could even open a second casino location or a boutique hotel, perhaps.

But when Jenkins, my driver, swung into a heavily pot-holed driveway, driving between cracked and leaning gateposts, complete with wrought iron gates hanging lazily from their hinges, I sat up a little straighter, eager for my first glimpse of the house beyond the overgrown bushes and shrubs.

Spanish moss hung from the trees like tangled hair instead of graceful curtains, giving the impression that this place was no longer worth what Jean Boucher had led me to believe.

By calling in his debt, I was inviting all kinds of further financial problems.

I cleared my throat, and Jenkins half-glanced over his shoulder.

"Yes, sir?"

I shifted in my seat, leaning forward, and rolled down my window. "You know, maybe we should just turn arou—"

The main house came into view and a tantalizing, familiar scent drifted into the car. The scent of a viable, of-age virgin. But surely two in Baton Rouge in as many days was too much of a coincidence? I wouldn't have remained oblivious to two of them, surely? And especially two that made my dick stand up and take notice like this.

"Sorry, sir?"

I shook my head. Maybe virgins were like buses. You waited for one for ages and then two came along at once. "You know what? Nothing. I shouldn't think I'll be very long here. You can just wait outside."

Now, I'd only come here for one thing. But there appeared to be a virgin inside who belonged to me, unless my nose was playing tricks on me.

"Very good, sir." He rolled smoothly to a stop in a driveway overgrown with weeds, and when I stepped from the car, I let my gaze wander up the building. More weeds sprouted from the steps at the front, and some sort of creeper plant covered the side of the building and had invaded its way under the roof tiles.

I shook my head. "For fuck's sake." This looked increasingly like a bad idea, but a contract was a contract, and I owed this to Camille's line. Her family line of women had always been particularly strong. Special, almost.

I approached the front door, stepping over rotten boards as I went. No one answered the knock on the door, but when I twisted the handle, it swung open to reveal a dark entrance hall. Dust motes hung in a thin stream of light seeping from around the edges of heavy velvet curtains.

"Hello?" My voice echoed in the vast space. Had Boucher gambled away every stick of furniture, too? His wife should have nailed things down before her passing.

I drew a deep breath—a prelude to a sigh—then stopped as my head spun. That woman. She was definitely here. Her scent filled my nose, and I almost groaned as I took another breath. She was here somewhere, and…shit. It was like she'd put a spell on me. More than simply being a virgin, every fiber of my being raged that she was meant for me.

I steadied myself on the doorframe before looking at the folder in my hand, trying to remember what the hell I was doing.

"Hello?" I called again, and a muffled groan answered me from beyond the closest doorway. I followed the noise and found a man sitting on a sofa, his head in his hands.

"Jean Boucher?" I phrased his name like a question, but of course it was fucking him. I'd observed him in La Petite Mort often enough.

He looked up, and his eyes widened. His face paled and he covered his mouth with his hand. "I didn't think you'd come."

He inched away from me until he was almost at the edge of the chaise, and fear radiated from him, turning the air in the room thick and cloying.

I moved aside some dirty glasses on a low coffee table and set the paperwork down so he could see it. He swayed a little and his face paled further.

"What's going on?" A voice spoke from the doorway, and I didn't even need to turn to know it was the woman whose scent seemed to have become part of my DNA, however impossible.

"I… I called Nicolas. This is Nicolas Dupont. We need his help." Boucher's voice was shaky, but I shook my head.

I hadn't gotten those messages, beyond Benedict's brief mentions. "That's not why I'm here."

Boucher tried again. "There are some things I need to explain, Leia." His eyes pleaded with the woman I still hadn't looked at, and I held myself stiff as I tried not to glance at her. "I've made a mistake," he whispered.

"You've made a lot of fucking big mistakes, Dad," Leia—her name was Leia—said. "But what have you done this time?"

"I used the house." Boucher closed his eyes and groaned. "I used the house and the bar as collateral. I wanted… I wanted Mr. Dupont to extend my line of credit, but it looks like he's come to call in my debt instead."

I nodded then clucked my tongue and shook my head slowly. "Ah, Jean," I said, trying to look as though I was considering a problem when I'd already worked out my next play. "I have come to call in what you owe me, but I might have a more favorable solution."

"Anything." He almost reached for me as desperation lit his bloodshot eyes.

I fanned the paperwork over the table, then drew his attention to the relevant subclause. "Do you remember this addition you made?"

He looked at me, his eyes widening as he slowly shook his head. "Not that," he whispered.

I nodded. "Oh yes, you've got something of great value that I'd like very much indeed."

I looked over my shoulder and allowed myself a small smile at Leia's surprise as she met my gaze.