I shake my head and pull her into my embrace. She smiles.
“I’m sorry about last night and this morning,” she says apologetically.
“No need to apologize,” I answer, walking her back to the clinic.
I greet Clayton at the door when he arrives. He is in the second phase of a werewolf. The top portion of his body is human, and the bottom portion is a wolf. He is around six-foot-seven—I’m guessing and his long mane falls to his shoulders. His eyes are gold. He shakes my hand firmly.
“You got the juice?” I ask. He sets his book bag on the beige marble floor and rummages through it. He pulls out a green box and opens it.
“The blue liquid is for your lady, and the red liquid is for you.”
I reach for my wallet in my back pocket and give him a check for thirty grand. Clayton folds the check and tucks it in his bag. I grab the box and unscrew the top from my red bottle, gulping down the fruity drink. My body buzzes like I’ve downed ten cups of coffee.
We stroll to the dining room, and Sarah stands by the window, she turns around and peers at us, scrunching up her nose at Clayton.
“It is nice to meet you again.” Clayton’s voice is gentle; she gives him a puzzled look.
“I’m sorry, have we met?” she asks.
“Yeah, by the statue. I’m the wolf who chased you,” he says. Anger colors her face as she smacks him. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts.
“You monster, you tried to kill me!” she screams, Clayton rubs his cheek.
“Calm down, lass. I was only trying to scare you. I didn’t know you were a guest in Eric’s mansion,” he says. She turns toward me.
“Next time, tell your dogs to be more careful.” Sarah spins on her heel and sits at the table.
The servants bring Clayton and Sarah food. They both eat.
“What are you?” she asks Clayton. He ignores her and continues to eat.
“Are you a wolf?” she prods.
“It’s rude to ask people what they are,” Clayton responds.
“You’re not normal,” she shoots back. The servant pours me a glass of red wine.
“What is normal?” Clayton snaps.
Sarah uses a fork to poke at her Salmon.
“I just want to know. Just curious,” Sarah says. Clayton tosses his fork on his plate.
“Fine, I’m a werewolf.”
“You turn into a wolf every full moon or just part wolf?” Sarah inquires.
“At night, I turn into half wolf. During a full moon, I turn into a full wolf unless I use magic.”
“Can I get a blood sample? I would love to study you.” I hear the nervousness in her voice.
“What’s wrong with your mate?” Clayton asks me.
“She’s a scientist,” I say, shrugging.
Once they finish eating, I pour the potion into Sarah’s wineglass.
“Drink up, sweet cheeks,” I say. She gulps down the wine.
“It tastes good; what is it?” she asks.
“It’s the potion I told you about, your link to me,” I say.
“Sarah, if you say Eric’s name in your mind three times, he will appear in front of you,” Clayton says. I clasp her hand.
“I want you to feel safe,” I say.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Electric sensation floods through my body. The potion is taking effect. Sarah drills Clayton with questions about being a werewolf. He is the leader of the Wiltshire pack. I met him right after I was a slave. He has been giving me potions throughout centuries to suppress my memories. I study Sarah as she speaks to Clayton; she is intrigued by him. She grabs his tail and plays with it. Clayton doesn’t seem to mind. After dinner, I tell Sarah I will meet her in her room. She kisses me on the lips and dashes off.
Clayton and I walk outside. I lean against the stone wall, and he hops onto the porch rail.
“You’re going to bond with her,” he states.
“Yea.”
“Good, you need a lady to take care of you.” He pulls a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lights up.
The sky is dark, and the clouds cover the half moon.
“I like Sarah, she’s good for you. Don’t fuck it up,” he says, puffing on his cigarette.
I want to tell him that I already know that, but I don’t. My mind drifts to Sarah and how happy I am. I never thought in a million years that I would want to bond with a human.
Sitting on the balcony, I drape a blanket over my lap. I can’t sleep, so I stare at the green forest. The wind blows, tickling my skin as I take a sip of my hot tea. My mind drifts to Jessie and how much I miss her. How would she feel about me dating Eric? Would she like him? Did she ever believe in the paranormal world? Where would her life be? If I would have died, would Mom have given her the key instead? I wish I could have chosen a better life for us. When I was nine years old, my mother married Tom and left us with Mrs. Nora, the nanny. Jessie got tired of having a nanny, so she fired her. It’s just me and you, kiddo. Jessie uttered those words and she was right. I was eleven at the time, and Jessie was seventeen. She would cook dinner when I came home from school. She made sure that I completed my homework. I would ask her when Mom and Tom would come home, and she would look at me with sad hazelnut eyes and shake her head. After a while, I stopped asking. I knew my mom chose Tom over us. Jessie tried to be the parent my mom wasn’t. Even though we lived in a big house and were wealthy, I would have traded all of that for a stable home. Jessie did the best she could in raising me.
Eric comes out and leans against the balcony rail.
“It’s three in the morning, what are you doing out here?” he asks, standing in his boxers.
“I can’t sleep,” I mutter, resting my head on my knees.
“Come back to bed, you can’t stay out here long; it’s too cold.”
“I’m okay.” My voice breaks with emotion, and tears roll down my cheeks.
“Talk to me, love.”
“It’s about my sister,” I whisper.
“I didn’t know you had a sister.”
I want to bare my soul to him, but will he look at me in a different way? I am a selfish person. Everyone is selfish to a certain extent, but what I did was horrible. I don’t deserve a happy life. Anxiety bubbles in my chest.
“I did something unforgivable to her.” I don’t bother glancing up at him; I’m too ashamed.
“What is it?” he insists, moving next to me. The tension is so thick that I can barely breathe. Another hot tear slips from the corner of my eye.
“Talk to me, Sarah,” Eric pleads. This time his voice is gentle as he pushes my bangs from my face, tilting my chin up so I’ll meet his gaze.
“When I had liver cancer, I needed a portion of a liver. Jessie gave me hers and…” I sob uncontrollably as the memory comes back to me. “And the anesthesia was too strong for her, so she stopped breathing.”
“It’s not your fault, Sarah,” He pulls me into his arms and strokes my back. He is the only one I have ever admitted it to. Vanessa knew because she read my diary, but I never openly confessed it to anyone. Eric cups my chin and drops a kiss on my mouth.
“It is my fault. If I hadn’t pressured her to do it, she wouldn’t have died.”
“You think she would want that?”
“What?” His question isn’t making any sense.
“Do you think she would want you to die so she could live?” I don’t respond.
“She knew the risk of having the surgery, right?” he asks.
“Yea, but it doesn’t justify her death.”
“I’m not justifying her death; I want you to see it from her point of view. Sarah, she was your sister; she wanted to protect you. Believe me, I know you shouldn’t beat yourself up about it.” I let his words sink in. It doesn’t take away the guilt, but it makes me see it from his point of view. It feels so good letting him know how I feel. He didn’t judge me or look at me any differently, which is what I was afraid of. Eric picks me up from the chair and carr
ies me to the bed. I crawl under the sheets. Eric lies next to me, and I kiss the bridge of his nose. “Eric, if I ask you something, do you promise to tell me the truth?”
“What is it?” I smell his minty breath.
“How did you get that scar on your back?”
He frowns, and I press my forehead to his.
“I promise I won’t judge you,” I whisper.
I hope he trusts me enough to let me in, give me some kind of glimpse of his life before me.
“I was a slave,” he says.
“To which coven?” I ask, he raises his left eyebrow.
“How do you know about the different covens?” He doesn’t need to know I’ve been asking Odessa questions about vampires.
“I have my ways. Now talk.”
“The Hudson coven,” he says.
I want to ask him more questions about being a slave, but I don’t want to open up old wounds. I am happy he admitted that he was a slave. I was testing him to see if he would tell me something about himself. I lay my head on his hot chest.
“You can always talk to me about anything, Eric,” I say sweetly.
He doesn’t respond. Instead I feel his lips brush against my forehead.
Today, Odessa and I meet with the construction workers that are supposed to build the health facility. Since the sun is out and the weather is chilly, I decide to wear a yellow long-sleeved shirt with white pants and knee-high boots. It fits my mood. I comb my curly hair and head downstairs. Outside, Odessa stands by the statue where I met Clayton. And speaking of Clayton, he never gave me his blood sample. He is the most fascinating paranormal creature I’ve ever met. Things have drastically changed since my arrival. I went from not wanting to be around Eric to falling in love with him. I can’t believe I just thought that. Yep, I am in love with him. I haven’t told him yet, because he might not feel the same way.
Odessa wears a sweater dress with knee-high hooker boots. She speaks to a short guy. He studies me from head to toe and offers his hand.
“Hi, my name is Milton, I am an architect, It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says, shaking my hand firmly.
“Sarah, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” I say through a smile.
“What do you need me to do?” I ask Odessa, and she hands me a picture of the blueprint of the building.
“Where do you want your office?” she asks as I scan the design.
“I want my office to be in the front of the building.” I tap my index finger on my chin. “I was thinking that we should start hiring ghouls to work at the facility, so they can feel close to home. I believe it would give them a place where they don’t have to hide from the world.”
Odessa’s face pales with shock.
I forgot that humans don’t know about the ghouls. The worker looks at me like I’m crazy, and I shake my head.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been watching too many horror movies,” I lie. I didn’t mean to give away the secret. Odessa yanks me into a hug. Did I miss something?
“You’re a freaking genius, Sarah, I haven’t thought about employing our kind.”
The worker gives me a devilish grin.
“Yeah, we ghouls want to be under our own roof for once. The humans are cool, but it would be nice not to hide.” He is amused that I thought he was human.
“You know what else we can do?” I ask, they both wait for me to answer.
“We could start opening a few shops just for the ghouls on the island. I know you guys can’t move back to Italy, but you could try to make a home here, too. Start rebuilding your kingdom.”
“You’re right, Sarah. I will talk to Nicholas and David and see what they say.”
My good deed is done for the day. My phone chimes with a message, and Eric’s number pops on the screen. I smile like a hormonal teenager as I click on the notification icon.
Sarah, come with me to New Orleans.
I grin at the text message.
When? I have to tell Dr. Edward.
Eric responds almost instantly.
Don’t worry. I already spoke to him. We will be gone for a few days. I need to talk to a witch about the box. C U in an hour.
Saying goodbye to Odessa, I rush upstairs to my room. I check the weather for New Orleans and it’s still warm on that side of the United States, so I pack summer clothes. There is a knock at the door, and Eric stands there looking sexy and dangerous with his bag draped over his arm. He bends down and kisses my lips. I pull away, trying to keep my composure.
“You ready to go, love?”
I nod as I smile.
We stroll along the streets of downtown New Orleans. The people are vibrant. Women dance in the street as a short, round woman sings blues, and I unconsciously sway to her beautiful song. It’s amazing here.
“Do you want to eat before we go to Meagan’s house?” Eric asks, tugging on his baseball cap.
“Sure.”
I settle for SoBou which is located in the French Quarter. The light is dim, the smell of Cajun food lingers in the air, and jazz music hums in the background. A perfect date for a human and a ghoul. The host shows us to our booth and hands us our menus. Five minutes later, the waitress comes to our table with a pen and pad in her hand. She eyeballs Eric, placing her hand over her mouth. Her face is white as paper.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” I ask. She nods, trying to regain her composure.
“What would you like to order?” she asks with a shaky voice. I scan the menu and settle with Caribbean Style Shrimp Salad and a medium coke. Eric orders a glass of water. She collects our menus and storms off. As soon as she is out of earshot, I turn my focus to Eric.
“What was that about? She looks like she saw a ghost,” I say. He places his hand over mine.
“She knows I’m a ghoul,” Eric deadpans.
“What? How?”
He clears his throat before speaking.
“Louisiana is the most supernatural place to live. Most of the people here are witches; this is their breeding ground.”
The same waitress sets our drinks down and quickly walks away. I take a sip of my coke, letting the bubbles burn my throat.
“So you can be yourself here and not worry about being killed?”
I search his face for an answer.
“Yes and no. Most of the witches won’t bother me unless I’m harming a human, but some are not too fond of ghouls.”
The waitress sets my salad in front of me. I scoop a shrimp into my mouth. The food is tasty. I think back to the auction and the girl mistaking me for someone else. I remember how startled she looked when she saw Eric.
“You remember the redhead back at the auction? Is she a witch?” I ask between bites. Eric sips his water before answering.
“She is a white witch, which means she is a healer. They don’t believe in harming others.”
The supernatural world is so complex compared to the normal life I am used to. There is so much I could learn about each race or species. My mind wanders to Clayton, the son of a bitch who tried to kill me. How he looks so different from any werewolves I’ve read about. Everything around me feels surreal.
I finish my meal and drink the remainder of my soda. Eric pulls out his wallet, and I slap it out of his hand.
“My treat,” I say playfully. I fish for my wallet in my designer purse and slap a twenty on the table.
The drive from the restaurant is about an hour away from the witch’s house. Louis Armstrong plays through the speakers.
“I didn’t know you liked Jazz,” I say as I lean my head against the car window.
The sky is the hint of purple and orange; it’s almost nightfall.
“Jazz is my favorite genre,” Eric answers. He takes his right hand off the steering wheel and intertwines his fingers with mine.
“What do you like to do besides watch porn?” I recall what he said to me when I was trying to have a conversation with him in those tumultuous first days. He laughs at my question.
“I was fuckin
g with you when I said that.”
“Sure.”
“You annoyed the shit out of me when I first met you.”
“Did not. For real, what do you like to do?”
“Do you really want to know?”
I nod.
“Being around you,” he says on an exhale. “When I’m around you, I feel like a nobody.”
“Meaning?”
“You don’t try to kiss my ass or hook up with me because of my status. Most females want to bond with me because I’m a king.”
I bet that’s annoying; people always trying to use you.
An old run-down house comes into view, and Eric stops the car and kills the engine. Teeth and dead rats hang from the porch ceiling. The place looks to be over a hundred years old. I get a creepy feeling from it, and my mind tells me to run like hell.
We jump out of the car and walk to the porch. Eric bangs on the door and a blind woman opens up. Her brown skin is wrinkled, and she wears dirty clothes, looking like she needs a bath.
“What do you want, demon?” she spits.
Eric and I exchange looks.
“I’m talking to you, ghoul.” I have a feeling this conversation is going south, fast.
“Meagan, I’m Ki—.”
“I know who you are.” You can see the tartar on her teeth. Either she hasn’t brushed in over a decade or she is a chain smoker.
“You have the paradox box, and I want to make a deal with you,” Eric says.
“Follow me.”
She turns her back on us and opens the door wide. We walk in and the inside looks better than the outside. The smell of neck bones and collard greens fill the room, reminding me of home. I take a seat next to Eric on the dingy yellow couch.
“You have the key to the Zenith book and you want the map,” Meagan states.
“How did you know that?” I blurt out.
“I’m psychic. It’s not in my possession anymore,” she says.
“Where is it?” Eric asks.
“I gave it to the Dark Light organization for safety. We don’t want it to get into the wrong hands. Since you’re with this half-breed, and we don’t know what her intentions are with the book.”
Ghoul Kisses Page 11
