9. Leia

Chapter 9

So many different sounds and smells surrounded me as I stepped onto the street and left the quiet interior of the restaurant. It would have been easy to get swept up in the crowds of laughing people making their way between bars and restaurants, but I'd long since learned how to move between drunk people while maintaining minimum damage to myself.

I glanced at the colors of the different bars, at the people spilling from the doors and the happiness that seemed to roll along the street like a wave. Snatches of foul smell were over-powered by cheap cologne and seafood. From somewhere, I smelled sweetness, like powdered sugar and beignets, and even after the meal I'd just devoured, my mouth watered in anticipation of tomorrow's breakfast.

Neon signs glowed in a rainbow of colors, and wrought iron filigree balconies packed with tables and chairs seemed to contain an impossible number of people. Their shouts and chatter echoed over my head as they leaned their heads increasingly close to one another to hear conversation while they occasionally cast their gaze on the busy street below, where I walked.

Maybe Nicolas would have liked to see this too. But truthfully, I didn't know what he enjoyed or if he wanted to play at being a tourist. It wasn't something in my contract. I'd only stepped out because I wanted to experience something in New Orleans that wasn't the inside of a restaurant. And if I only took a short walk and went back, Nicolas never even needed to know.

The little shops packed between the bars were closed now, but I drifted closer to the windows to peer at the wares. There were traditional tourist shops selling ball caps with bold slogans emblazoned across them and plastic pens and trashy keyrings that would break off in pockets or purses, but the one with the alligator eating the beignet made me laugh—it was the kind of thing I would have picked up for Harry or Pierre.

I moved along, stepping around a drunk guy emptying his stomach against the wall—apparently making room for more because the night was still young—and walked past the open door of a bar where the music was still jazz, but not the smooth kind that had accompanied my meal with Nicolas. No, this was raucous and almost made me want to dance, my muscles finding a new rhythm as I walked.

Something about the energy here seeped into my soul, and if my roots hadn't been in my rundown home and bar in Baton Rouge, I could maybe have seen myself walking this street as a local.

I wandered toward another of the tiny stores before recoiling slightly as the word voodoo caught my eye. Fascination drew me closer, even as a cold shiver worked through me at the multitude of skeletons in the window. Some of them were comical, but some of them looked downright fierce.

Perhaps it was a good thing the store was closed—I wasn't sure I could have resisted the allure of the unknown, even though the detectable thrum of power bade me stay away.

I turned from the store, ignoring the prickle at the back of my neck as I continued walking, heading toward a giant geode showcased in a third window. The energy here felt cleaner somehow, and my chest loosened as I blew out a deep breath. A range of pretty stones and gems gleamed from glass cases, and I allowed my gaze to wander over them—then took a step back as I met someone's eyes on the other side of the case.

The lady raised her hand and beckoned to me, her gnarled fingers crooking in indication that I should go inside.

The opening hours on the door stated that the store had closed long before, but when I pulled gently on the worn handle, it opened easily enough, and the scents of sage and patchouli raced out onto the street.

"You shouldn't be here." The woman's voice was cracked and as dry as her frizzy gray hair as it escaped the bun at the top of her head to wave in a wild mist around her face.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I murmured, sudden embarrassment heating my cheeks. "I thought you said to come in."

"New Orleans is very dangerous for you. Not safe." The woman tutted and reached out to touch my hair. "So pretty," she crooned. "Needs protection."

She darted across the tiny store with the rapid movements of a bird, her eyes bright, her hands already reaching toward one of her displays.

"Protection… Protection…" She muttered the word over and over again, one hand plucking various stones from the display before replacing them as she tried to smooth her hair back into place with the other hand.

I edged closer to the door and away from the obviously crazy lady. "Nice to meet you," I called. "I should probably go now, though."

This definitely wasn't where I'd planned to end up when I left the restaurant.

"Aha!" The woman snatched a purple stone like those that made up the geode in the window. It glinted a little in the low light. "Amethyst," she murmured as she clutched it in her palm. "But is it enough?" She looked back at me before nodding. "For now."

Then she pressed the crystal into my hand before cackling a laugh and withdrawing it to insert it into a cage attached to a thin silver necklace.

"Now, listen to old Lettie. This will keep you safe in the next part of your journey." She looped the necklace over my head, and the caged stone disappeared beneath my dress to nestle against my cleavage.

"Thank you. But I don't have…" Shit. I didn't have any money.

"You have need." Her eyes seemed to clear like she could focus again. "This old witch knows." She grabbed my hand, startling me. "And your future path is clear. I see great wealth, love, and power, but it's all shadowed by pain. And danger."

"Thank you," I said again as I moved myself from her grip. I didn't believe in visions and fortunes and bullshit.

The door blasted open behind me, but no one was there, and Lettie pointed a spindly finger, indicating I should leave. "Now go, but stay out of the shadows, child."

I half-ran back onto the street, the unfamiliar weight of the pendant heavy between my breasts. I almost removed the necklace, taking the delicate silver chain between my thumb and forefinger, but then I left it. I had no purse or pocket to carry it in, and there was something comforting about it that I couldn't quite place.

The store behind me was quiet again, and when I glanced behind me, there was nothing to indicate Lettie and I had been talking only moments before. It looked as closed as every other store in the street. I had no idea how long I'd been away from The Neutral Zone or whether Nicolas would have finished conducting his secret squirrel business dealings, but it was probably time to get back to the restaurant. Luckily, I'd walked in a straight line and not very far. I was too much of a magpie in places like this—attracted by pretty sights and color—which always slowed me down.

I looked at the sidewalk as I picked my way along the street and drew my wrap tighter around my shoulders as I walked as fast as I could back to Nicolas.

Only to stop abruptly when someone stepped into my path further down the street. My gaze skimmed from his heavy work boots to his dark, loose-fitting jeans and the two guys with him.

Something about them resonated trouble, and I started to cross the street, but a light breeze blew across me, catching my hair and teasing some of the loose strands. All three looked up as one, their gazes suddenly trained on me.

Shit. The air of danger increased when the one in the middle smiled, although smile was overstating it. The expression was little more than a cruel upturn to his lips. I hurried forward, suddenly clutching my pendant as my pace increased.

"I can do this, I'll be safe. I'll be safe," I repeated, like the words alone could make it so.

I started to run in the direction of the restaurant, but the guys caught up with me, using their bodies to maneuver me into a wide doorway so I could barely see into the busy street beyond them.

"Hello, baby." The guy clearly in charge brushed his fingers down my face, and I froze, fighting against closing my eyes because I couldn't just give up and not look. "Have you come to play?"

He leaned closer and murmured against my ear, his hot breath wafting over my neck. He smelled like booze and stale sweat, and I flinched away.

The other guys laughed, but one closed his fingers over mine. "Come play with us," he urged, his voice dangerously soft. "We like you."

The third guy had his nose almost in my hair. "Why do you smell so good?" he murmured, but it was clear I didn't need to bother answering.

But for fuck's sake. Had none of these guys heard of shampoo or soap or basic personal hygiene? I tried to stand on my tiptoes to see beyond them, but a hand rested on my shoulder to press me back down, and I lashed out with my foot, landing a kick on his shin.

"Play nice now, little honey," a voice said, and it was like I hadn't even touched him.

I tried again, kicking out, and attempting to jerk away from their holds. But nothing I did had any effect.

"You smell amazing." The one with his nose against my hair had a fetish or something.

I tried to work out a plan, because being raped on the street was not going to be the end result of this trip to New Orleans. It couldn't be. I'd dealt with dicier things at the bar…but Harry and Pierre had always been there, just in case. My vision blurred at the sudden thought of the two guys who'd always protected me without seeming to think about it. They were just always there when I needed them.

And now Dad had gambled me away to Nicolas. Someone far less reliable, apparently. Someone who had actively brought me somewhere really dangerous, if my current situation was anything to go by.

Beyond the three men, laughter still rang out in the street, but I couldn't make a sound. My voice was lodged like a stone in my chest. I could barely breathe around it.

The leader nuzzled against my neck. "Mmm… I can smell her master, too." He lifted his head. "Why hasn't he claimed you yet, darlin'?"

Holy crap, the guy was on drugs. My fear turned cold. He was high as a kite, obviously. There'd be no reasoning with him. Shit. Maybe they all were.

One of the others laughed roughly. "Must be our lucky day, finding such a sweet treat wandering the streets."

The third one laughed too, his nose still in my hair. "The perfect dessert. I could die happy just smelling her."

I gritted my teeth. They were pissing me off. They weren't doing much more than smelling me, but I'd taken a shower today and I wasn't wearing perfume. I huffed a sigh and started to push forward, trying to work my way between them, but the leader pushed me back, slamming me against the wooden door.

"That's not nice, cher. Why're you leaving so soon? We're not finished. Stay and sample proper New Orleans hospitality." He grinned maliciously as he grasped my thigh, digging his fingers in like he might rip a chunk away.

I sucked in a fractured breath, and his grin widened.

"Even her fear is sweet." He inhaled deeply, and there was the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

"No." I found my voice as I tried to push through them again.

"Hold her," he growled, and as I watched him, his brown eyes blazed to red, like two jewels shining in his face.

I took a breath to scream, squeal, shriek… anything, but one of the men pressed his hand over my mouth.

"Make sure she can breathe," the guy with the red eyes and his hand down his pants commanded. "I prefer them conscious."

"Hurry up, though. I want my turn." The third guy, who'd turned his back and appeared to be keeping watch, laughed. "But I don't care if she's conscious."

I expected to cry or try to scream or fight my way forward again, but I stood, numb, and watched as the men discussed me like I wasn't even there. The guy who'd had his hand down his pants stood in front of me and bent toward my neck, his breath mostly alcohol fumes.

"Where to pierce first?" His words were a murmur as he grabbed me between my legs. "This untouched pussy or her pretty little neck?"

"You're killing me," the guy with his back turned said.

"I vote neck." The guy with his hand over my mouth spoke, and his eyes glowed a dim red, too, but surely that was wrong.

One of the neon signs nearby must have been casting the light. Or I'd had too much to drink at the restaurant. That would also explain my slow reaction times. Usually, I was a fighter. But the more scared I became, the less I seemed able to do. The man with his hands on my body drew back and grinned, and I gasped, jerking my head back so it slammed on the wood behind me, sending pain lancing through my skull.

Fangs.

Holy shit, his teeth had grown, and he had fangs.

With a malevolent chuckle as I made a list ditch struggle, he bent to my neck, and his warm breath was followed by the scrape of teeth. I couldn't even think. My mind had nothing left to give.

As he waited, those impossible fangs resting lightly against my skin like he was savoring something, there was an inhuman roar, and a shadow whirled in front of me, ripping the man away from me. I collapsed to the ground without anyone keeping me on my feet, and the other two men stood for a moment before a flurry of curse words colored the air and they ran away, their out-of-rhythm footsteps echoing the pounding of my heart.

Before my eyes closed, the whirlwind of a man who'd dragged my attacker away took off after the escaping pair and took them both to the ground. But before I could see what happened, my eyes drifted closed, and I almost ignored the footsteps beside my head. It was so nice just to rest.

No. That was wrong. I forced my eyes open again as adrenaline pumped through me. I couldn't collapse on a street in New Orleans. Those guys had already shown me it wasn't safe.

"Miss Boucher?" At Jason's familiar voice, I finally gave in and let myself drift away.