Hosts to Ghosts Box Set

by Lynne Connolly

  “I can’t take much more of this!”

  “Oui tu peux, ah oui, mon ange!” Holding her waist firmly, he refused to let her lift away from him, refused to give her any respite from the shudders racking her body. They radiated up from her womb, encasing her body, surging up and beyond in impossible intensity.

  When she fell back, he went with her, covering her body with his, his thrusts getting harder, and her orgasm changing to pin sharp spikes of release, culminating in one great surge. Panting, she pressed his shoulders and he allowed her to push him over, so she was now on top. After a moment to recover, and enjoy the feeling of his body hot along her whole length Karey rose up and planted her knees either side of his hips. She traced his mouth with her fingers.

  Gazing at her, the steely gray eyes suffused with adoration, he took her fingers into his mouth, caressing them with his tongue, lifting one hand to her hip to hold her in place when she began to move on him.

  Starting slowly, she built up to a rocking, regular motion, eventually lifting up and slamming her body back down on his, driving his cock deeper still. His cry gave balm to her soul. Although he had willingly ceded the power to her, Karey still felt powerful, as though she could achieve anything with this man. She could not let him go. Ever. There had to be a way.

  Bending down, she teased his nipples with her tongue.

  “Karey, Karey, Karey, Karey, Karey!”

  She chuckled and sat up again, letting her fingers take the place of her tongue. Her thighs ached, but she didn’t let up, feeling him deep within her, part of her, as she was part of him.

  His balls tightened and she triumph surged through her every pore when his orgasm began. They had never done anything like that before; she had never done anything like that before. She had taken part in a mutual act of love, one she would never forget, whatever came after this.

  She felt him spurt within her just as his hand tightened on the sheets, clenching and releasing with the pulses of his climax. The change in rhythm was enough to detonate another explosion within her and they came together. He was in her body, in her mind, and she gave it all to him in that moment of ultimate togetherness.

  Jordan lifted his hands and clasped her waist, bringing her gently down to rest on his body. Hot and damp, they rested, until he swung her to one side and lifted her wrist to his mouth.

  While she watched, he took her blood. Fangs speared over his lower lip, and pressed against her skin, creating small dimples until with a light pop, they pierced her. She experienced no pain, but felt three strong pulls before he retracted his fangs, and licked the wounds, still oozing red. Before her eyes the piercings sealed as though they had never existed. No soreness, no pain. Just as he’d promised.

  He lifted his head and met her gaze. She still loved him, still wanted him. That small act seemed as much an act of love as anything else they’d just done.

  Tears glimmered in his eyes. “It can be an act of love. It’s nothing else with you.”

  “Thank you, Jordan.” She wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for, but she felt thankful for everything they had just done.

  “Thank you, Karey.” He drew her into his arms and reached for the sheet, covering them both. October wasn’t a particularly cold month in Louisiana, and they were hot from lovemaking, but the gesture made her feel protected and cared for. “Sleep now, mon amour. In the morning we’ll decide what to do. I won’t leave you tonight, I promise.”

  “I love you, Jordan.”

  “I love you, Karey. I’ll never stop loving you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jordan lay quietly, watching Karey’s breasts move as she breathed, committing the sight to memory. It would have to last him. Perhaps he would be able to live on the memories for a long time to come.

  He smiled when he recalled their lovemaking; passionate, frantic and tender in turn. With any luck he’d have a few more nights to sustain him before he left. Then he would remove the memories from her. His heart sank when he thought of it, but he would have to.

  There was no way he’d leave Karey with the yearning he’d suffer for the rest of his long life. She at least should have a chance at happiness. He’d leave her with a dislike of him, of the way he had treated her. Not as strong as the hatred he’d tried to engender in her. That way she would get over it, perhaps even find someone else.

  Unable to lie here and think of separation any longer, he flung the sheets aside and got out of bed. When Karey stirred he murmured to her, and she turned over, taking the sheet with her, revealing the long, beautiful curve of her back. Jordan wanted to go back and nestle against it, but another part of him knew he needed to go, to clear his head.

  A brief shower in his own room, a clean set of clothes and he decided to walk. Where didn’t matter too much, but he’d gotten into the habit recently and found it a solace. In Paris he’d spent hours talking to Jim Morrison. At least to his grave.

  As plain old Jordan Arcenaux, he’d rarely seen the dawn, rarely noticed the beauty of the early morning. Here in Louisiana, he found it especially precious. Not only was this the place where he’d spent at least half his childhood, the heat of the day made the mornings special. Not that it was particularly hot at this time of year, and rain often swept down in sheets, but this morning was like the dawn of an Paris summer. The carefully cultivated lawns surrounding Belle Sauvage gleamed, full sapped and brilliantly green; the trees lining the drive rustled gently in the early morning breeze.

  Jordan took the opposite direction to the cemetery. He didn’t feel like confronting death today. He had a few more days of happiness, while he protected Karey from Didiane and Bernard Foret. Perhaps Sarah could help him with that. He’d call her later. He’d left Karey surrounded with all the protection he was capable of giving her; the doors and windows barred psychically and psychic barriers erected, too. Moreover, he kept his presence in her mind and could flash back at the least twinge of danger.

  But he needed this time, a quiet hour to reflect and commit the wonder of last night to his memory in every tiny detail. He might live for hundreds of years to come and he wanted to take every scrap of last night with him. All the way.

  Jordan decided on a circular course. Auguste and he ran wild in this place as children, the old, near-derelict ancestral home. Jordan still didn’t understand why Auguste had decided to renovate, to make this house live again. The disturbances had raised more than dust. Auguste had never given much credence to the old stories, but now, with the increased activity at the house, and a personal experience he’d never told anyone, he had to believe. Auguste always laughed at Jordan’s crazy theories, theories that turned out to be as crazy as Auguste always claimed. But real, for all that.

  What was left? A strange new world Jordan wasn’t sure he liked very much, but which excited his intellect beyond reason. Every city, every town held people different in some way from what was laughingly considered the norm. They chose not to reveal themselves, and in some communities it was banned.

  He looked up, startled, when a car whipped past on the main road. He hadn’t noticed that he’d come this far. He’d walked the length of the drive under the soothing shade of the spreading branches overhead and hardly noticed it. He’d go back the long way. She should be stirring by then. Perhaps she would let him help her shower. At the thought, Jordan’s cock stirred, too.

  A heap of black attracted his attention, some kind of metal gleaming in its depth. Black fabric of some kind. This close to the road, it was probably a hobo. Jordan decided not to disturb whoever it was. Until the scent of freshly spilled blood seeped into his senses.

  Deeply disturbed, Jordan approached the heap of fabric.

  A girl, no more than twenty. Very dead. She didn’t need her pale make up any longer, because the skin underneath the streaked foundation was just as pale. Little blood had spilled on the ground because someone had drained her of the precious liquid, the gash across her throat gaping emptily. The heavily mascara’ed eyelashes spiked aro
und open, sightless eyes, staring at the sky and the clouds wheeling above them. Jordan stared up and blinked away his tears.

  This was a vampire death. The slashed throat merely hid the bite marks that were the true cause of her death. This was a cold, deliberate killing.

  The girl’s dress had ridden up to her knees, but Jordan couldn’t sense any sexual attack. His heightened sense of smell would have detected it. Her flowing sleeves had been pushed back, but nowhere on the body could he see bruises or a sign of struggle. The fingernails were long and carefully shaped, none of them broken, the blood-red varnish unchipped. She wore the jewelry he remembered from the night before, expensive but not precious.

  When he’d left Thalia she had been healthy and missing only a small amount of her blood, the snack he’d taken from her. Now she was dead. She would never, finish her studies, never have children, never fall in love.

  Cold, deliberate fury roared through Jordan’s body. He shook with it. That anyone dared to do this, especially on his home ground, his territory. He owed someone for this and he would have justice.

  * * * * *

  “Karey!”

  Karey opened her eyes and blinked at Jordan. “What is it?”

  He shook off the instinctive urge to kiss her senseless. “The police captain’s here and he wants to see you.”

  “Damn!” Karey sat up, and the sheet fell away, revealing the most perfect pair of breasts Jordan had ever seen. “What time is it?”

  “Ten o’clock.”

  “I’ll go down as soon as I’ve showered and dressed.”

  She flung back the sheet to get out of bed, but he held her arms, preventing her moving. “Karey, something terrible has happened. There’s been another death.”

  “What?” He watched her blink away the last of her dreams.

  “Thalia, the girl I took to the restaurant last night. She’s dead. Murdered.”

  “Oh Jordan! Oh the poor girl!”

  “It was a vampire death.”

  The blood fled from her cheeks, and she stared at him, lovely eyes wide. “Didiane?”

  He loved that she didn’t suspect him, not for a minute, not for a second. They’d fallen asleep in darkness; theoretically he had time to do it, but she didn’t even consider it. “Perhaps. There are many vampires in New Orleans. It could have been any of them. I took her blood, Karey. A very little, and she gave it willingly, but that was all, I swear.”

  “I believe you.”

  He pulled her close, relief surging through his body. That she believed him meant more than he thought possible. He felt her, warm and dear, and swore to keep her safe. “I won’t leave you again until this is over, darling. Not for a minute.”

  “The occasional minute?” She drew back to look into his face.

  “I won’t be far away.” He kissed her, a gentle kiss of greeting, not like the passionate exchanges of last night.

  “Does that mean you’ll leave me when this is over?” Trouble entered her gaze. He couldn’t bear it, but he couldn’t lie to her.

  He grimaced. “I wanted to make you hate me, and look what I’ve done. Do you think you could pretend a little?”

  “Do we have to?”

  “I think so, chérie, at least until I can persuade Didiane to leave. I’ve erected a barrier in your mind, but it won’t hold her forever if she’s close. If we behave as though we hate each other, she won’t bother to pursue you. At least I hope so.”

  “What about when she’s gone?”

  He dropped his head so their foreheads touched. “I don’t know. We have to talk, that’s clear enough. I don’t know if I can let you go this time, but I have to. I can’t put you in danger.”

  “What if it’s my choice?” She pressed her lips to his. “What if I’m willing to take the risk?”

  He swung her up and reached for her hands. “It’s not something we should do in a hurry. Shower and dress, and we’ll go down to deal with this latest tragedy.”

  “What can you do?”

  “If the police don’t deal with it, the vampire community will. Murder isn’t acceptable in any society, love.”

  He was true to his word, leading her into the bathroom and waiting while she showered.

  She called to him from the shower stall. “I’ve already kept the poor captain waiting twenty minutes. He’ll come up and fetch me himself.”

  Jordan bared his teeth in a mock growl. “If he does, he’ll have me to deal with.”

  “A vampire in his prime,” Karey suggested.

  Her roguish smile melted his heart. He held out a bath towel to wrap her in when he heard the water stop. She wasn’t in the least intimidated by his new status. Exactly what he wanted. He’d tried to make his feeding as undramatic as he could, but she’d watched him all the time, with that analytical expression he remembered so well from their time together at Hosts to Ghosts. He’d give anything to have that time back. Anything.

  He folded the towel around her and helped her dry herself, although she laughingly protested he was getting in the way. Ten minutes later Karey was dressed. No green silk sheath today, just pants and a t-shirt, with a faded logo of Iron Maiden’s Eddie on it. She still looked good enough to eat. And he meant to do just that at least once more before they had to part.

  They found the police captain in the office, Bernard Foret in close attendance and Didiane hovering nearby. With a sense of weariness he opened his mind to her. “I found the girl.”

  “I know. Why did you do it?”

  That from Didiane? She thought he did it? “I didn’t. There are more of our kind here than just us two.”

  Karey only glanced at him once, but Jordan felt her anguish with every sense he possessed.

  The captain, a well-built African American, turned to face him, his face grave, his eyes suspicious. “Jordan Arcenaux?”

  He bowed his head slightly. “Yes.”

  “I believe you had dinner with Miss Angela Friedman last night? You went to the Deux Regali and later accompanied her to her apartment.” Thalia’s real name was Angela, then. Sweet Jesus, the irony was too much. A dark angel, she would have said, but she had only ever been playing with the lifestyle, drawn, like many her age, by the legends.

  “Did you accompany her back here?”

  “No. I returned alone. I left the girl at her home.” The girl had been sweet, needy, looking for something she couldn’t have. Innocent, even. “How?”

  “How did she die?”

  He waved his hand. “Yes, how did she die, in your expert opinion?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  The officer grimaced. “She suffered a laceration to the carotid artery. She had lost nearly all the blood in her body, although we discovered little in the spot where she was found. I believe you found the body, sir?”

  He nodded. “I went out for an early morning walk.”

  “Anyone see you?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Jordan knew he should display shock. He supposed staring at the cop would count. He knew of three vampires, and probably more in New Orleans. The police would never catch the murderer, using conventional methods, but he had a chance. It was the least he could do for the confused, sweet girl he’d befriended, and her family, who must be distraught.

  “She worked here, didn’t she?”

  “Yes. She came in every day and went home at night.”

  “Then she was probably on her way in.”

  Before he could work out what to do next, a voice came from behind him. “Captain Armstrong, how are you today?”

  He’d forgotten, but Sarah was supposed to come to see the house today. She stood in the doorway, frowning a little, a statuesque woman wearing a simple dark blue dress, and her hair in braids, woven flat to her head before falling just past her shoulders in tight, shining strands. She’d brought sunshine with her on this overcast day.

  She smiled easily at them, just as if making a social visit. Jordan greeted Sarah with a kiss on
each cheek before turning back to the others. “Sarah has some psychic skill. I was hoping she could help cleanse the house.”

  Sarah lifted a dark eyebrow and Jordan smiled. “I did get it right, didn’t I?”

  “Captain Armstrong knows some of what I do. I’ve helped the police in the past.” She glanced around the crowded room and her gaze lingered on Bernard. She nodded to him coldly and turned away. “I’m a mamba, I practice vodun. I hoped to cleanse this house although I haven’t visited for years.”

  “Have you heard of the murder?”

  She shook her head. “How could I have heard anything?” Her eyes took on a graver tinge. “What murder?”

  Captain Armstrong frowned, his brows forming a straight line over his eyes. “You knew already, didn’t you? I know you. You know everything before most people.”

  Sarah sighed. “I heard on the way here. Someone called me. I didn’t come here because of that. I had a prior arrangement and I was already on my way.”

  “Nevertheless, I would appreciate your opinion. Have you heard any details?”

  Sarah shook her head, and the captain brought her swiftly up to speed. At the end of his gruesome but necessary description, she sighed. “No, it doesn’t sound like something a vodun practitioner would do. Nothing of the ritual about it, at least, not vodun ritual. The other one, the vagrant you found, that was vodun.”

  The captain nodded and turned away to address everyone. “I’d prefer it if nobody leaves the house without permission today. Keep your activities to within twenty miles until further notice. Forensic officers are working on the site, but they’ll be gone soon. I’ll want statements from each of you.” Abruptly he turned to Jordan. “Where were you last night?”

  The tactic might have been effective, had Jordan not been expecting it. He shrugged. “I came back and went to bed.”

  The captain took a step toward him, and Jordan saw determination in his eyes. “Didn’t you get involved in something similar in Paris?”

  Jordan almost snarled at him. The way they’d disposed of Gillespie’s body didn’t exactly make him proud. “I was questioned about a body found a couple of streets away from my apartment, that’s all. He was a distant relative.” That was how they’d explained the transfer of property to the authorities.