“Nice mask.” Some guy coming toward her pointed at her headdress.
“Thanks.” Be friendly, she reminded herself. “You, too.” Not really. His looked like one of those cheap five-dollar ones. She downed some more of the peach smash, hoping it would help her missing social gene kick in.
He slowed, his friends all busy with women of their own. “Hey what kind of bird are you?” His mouth bent in a lecherous grin. “A swallow?”
“Really? Is that supposed to get me hot and bothered? Because, um, no.” She sighed and walked away.
“Hey!” he yelled after her.
She ignored him and took another long sip of her drink as she kept going. Obviously, she’d had a very different idea about the kind of night this was going to be and the kind of guy she might meet out here. Someone… nice. And not just looking to get some action. Of course, that was kind of what she was doing. She just didn’t want to do it with a Neanderthal. Heading back to the hotel was starting to look better and better. But she’d shelled out the cash for this mask. She caught a few of the feathers floating around her shoulders and rubbed her gloved fingers over them, imagining their silkiness.
Maybe she could turn it into something for the next Comic Con she went to. At least then she’d be among her own kind. What character could she use this for? Some kind of—she stopped abruptly, causing a small collision of people behind her. What was she thinking? There was no next Comic Con. Not for her. Unless they held one in prison.
Traffic flowed around her, human, fae or otherwise, and none of them had any idea the mess she was in. None of them would likely care, either. And yet, she was contemplating choosing one of them to spend one of her remaining nights of freedom with in exchange for what? Some consensual fun?
She was a grown woman acting like a horny college girl on spring break. Sad. Maybe she’d just forget the hooking up part, walk around a little more while she finished her drink and enjoy the fact that no matter how sad she was, she still wasn’t as pathetic as some of these actual college kids. Most of whom appeared to be drunker than humanly possible. Hmm. The fact that she was contemplating walking around in this madness meant the alcohol was kicking in. She started to cut through the crowd to get to the sidewalk when two guys came tearing past her chasing each other.
The second clipped her shoulder hard as he went by, spinning her around and knocking her drink out of her hand. As she fell, a high-pitched shriek cut through the chaos. A hand clamped down on her forearm, catching her before she hit the ground and pulling her upright.
She glanced behind her, unable to believe she hadn’t hit the cobblestones.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m—” She turned to see who her benefactor was. Tall, dark and—judging by the horns—definitely fae. She ignored the trippy shiver of desire the sight of him inspired. Her body was betraying her over a guy who was fae? Wow. That was so not awesome.
“Are you kidding me?” A soggy brunette in a red glitter mask wiped peach smash out of her cleavage. She glared at Harlow from the side of her mysterious serpent-masked hero. “You spilled your drink all over me, you little—”
He interrupted her. “It wasn’t her fault, Ginger.”
Ginger? Harlow clamped her mouth shut, sensing this was not the time for snark. “Sorry about that. A guy ran into me and—”
“Whatever,” the blonde on the other side of him said. She wore the same kind of red glitter mask as the brunette. She sighed and looked at him, her mouth pouty as she stroked her hand down his chest, her fingers dancing over what looked like hard, trim muscle. Fae, yes. Repulsive, no. “Can we go now?”
“Yeah, my buzz is wearing off,” added a third girl, this one a redhead in yet another red glitter mask.
Did this guy buy in bulk? “I should go.” She turned to leave, then realized he still had hold of her arm as the heat and pressure of his grip sank through her sleeve and into her skin. When she glanced at his hand, he released her.
His little half smile was sort of endearing. “Sorry. You still didn’t answer. Are you okay?”
Was he really that concerned? She couldn’t imagine he was trying to pick her up when his dance card was obviously full. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Let me buy you another drink.”
Before Harlow could answer, the blonde spoke up again. “For real? C’mon, baby, we want to party.”
He turned to her, but not before a look of impatience darkened his stormy gray-green eyes. “Why don’t you three go ahead to the hotel? That way Ginger can clean up. I’ll be right there.”
“You sure?” The blonde’s hands wrapped his bicep like she was afraid to let him go. She sure loved to touch him.
He looked back at Harlow, mischief in his gaze. “Sure.”
She smiled, unable to help herself. Nothing about his answer sounded like he had any intention of meeting up with them.
As the trio melted into the crowd, he offered her his arm. “So how about that drink?”
She didn’t take it. “You’re ditching Charlie’s Angels for me?”
He shrugged. “This is going to make me sound like the world’s biggest creeper, but I could have those girls any night of the week, any week of the year. This is Nokturnos. They’re not who I want to spend tonight with.”
“And I am?” She was trying hard not to feel flattered and failing.
“You put time and thought into your mask. They didn’t. That says a lot to me.”
She put a few points on his side of the scoreboard. “I’ll accept that.”
“Have you been to New Orleans before?”
“No.”
“How’s your night going so far?”
“Not great.” Although she’d gotten the start of a good buzz before she’d lost her drink. That was something.
He extended his arm again. “I can fix that. I love this city and I’d be happy to turn your night around.”
She almost reached for his arm, then hesitated once more. “How do you know I even care how the rest of this night goes?”
He smiled full-on and her breath caught in her throat. Oh my. Why did fae men have to be so pretty? He tipped his head in toward her like he was about to share a secret. “I’m going with the mask again. You spent a lot of money on that so I’m assuming you planned on having fun tonight. Right or wrong?”
She took his arm, her hand sliding over an expanse of muscle that explained pretty thoroughly why the blonde had had a hard time letting go. “I’ll give you another point for being perceptive.”
He laughed. “I’ll take it. So what were you drinking? One of those fruity frozen things, right?”
“Are you psychic, too?”
“Not hard to smell what my date was covered in.”
She rolled her lips in to keep from laughing again. “That really wasn’t my fault.”
“I know. It was mine.” He glanced at her. “I bet those guys a hundred bucks I could beat them to the end of Bourbon Street.”
“But you weren’t running.”
“Nope. They were bothering the girls I was with. Seemed like an easy way to get rid of them.” He shrugged. “It worked.”
She just shook her head as he steered them through the crowd and toward another drink stand. He bought her a drink and got a beer for himself, then they started back down the street.
She took a long pull on the straw, trying to get as much of it in her system as she could. If she was going to kiss this guy, which seemed like the best idea of the night so far, she’d need the alcohol to tamp down her ability to read his emotions or he’d probably short-circuit something in her brain. “By the way, my name is—”
“Stop right there. No names on Nokturnos.”
“Really? Why not?”
“The belief is that you ensure yourself good luck for the rest of the year if you kiss a stranger. If you tell me your name, you’re no longer a stranger.”
That was fine with her. “Okay, I bought a mask, I guess I’ll play. What should I
call you?”
He glanced back the way the girls had gone. “How about Charlie?”
She laughed. “I like it. And I’ll be Angel.”
He snorted. “That’s the spirit. That is a really great mask, by the way.”
“Yours, too. It’s actually beautiful. Is that a weird thing to say to a guy?”
Before he could answer, loud whoops and shrieks caught their attention. A new group of revelers swept toward them, somehow noisier and more raucous than everyone else. They were all male, throwing beads and grabbing at every woman they passed. She froze, panicking. It was suddenly too much, the crowd, the noise, the—Charlie took her hand, pulled her through the crush and down a quieter side street where he brought them to a stop near a wall. The broad expanse of his back shielded her from the crowd behind them.
She felt like she should thank him, but didn’t. Instead, she tried to explain. “I’m… not always so great with crowds.”
He nodded. “I sensed that.”
“You did? How?”
He laughed softly. “The horns aren’t part of the mask, sweetheart. I’m fae if you hadn’t figured that out. Your pulse went into alarm mode when that group started toward us.”
Damn it. She’d tried to gloss over his being fae so much she actually had. Hopefully her heart was still beating fast enough to cover the new twinge of panic his reminder brought on. She did her best to play it off. “Yeah, of course you would have heard that. I guess I just didn’t realize you’d be able to pick up on it in all the rest of that noise.”
He bent in closer, the scent of something warm and smoky filling her nose. “You okay?”
It was easy to believe the softness in his eyes was genuine concern. Too easy. She blew out a breath and shifted so that her back was flat against the wall. “I’m fine. Just needed a break from all that.”
He sidled up against the wall next to her so that his bicep touched her shoulder. “It is nuts, huh? You should see it at Mardi Gras.”
She could do without that. “I can’t even imagine.” The horror.
“It’s the most fun you’ll ever have.”
Not repulsive but definitely crazy. Still, if her courage held out, the night might not be a total wash. Emboldened by the alcohol, she pressed him. “I thought being the most fun I’ll ever have was your job?”
His head swiveled around and the look on his face was pricelessly stunned. Then he burst out laughing. “Just when I have you figured out.”
She turned a little toward him. “Did you think I was going to cut and run?”
“Something like that.”
She swallowed, holding on to her intoxication like a safety blanket. “And miss the kiss that’s going to bring me good luck for the rest of the year?”
His lips slowly parted and his tongue came out to lick them. He cleared his throat. “It is almost moonset.”
Do it, she wanted to shout. Before my courage sobers up. But he didn’t need any further encouraging.
He pulled her against him, his legs straddling hers, his back against the wall and her weight leaning into him. One hand came up like he was going to cup her chin but she caught it with her gloved hand and pushed it to the wall. The kiss would be enough contact without his fingers on her skin.
Deep in his throat he made a sound of approval. Good. Let him think she wanted to be the aggressor. She lifted her face to his, hoping that would be enough.
It was.
Chapter Five
Augustine found Angel’s upturned mouth a second after she offered it to him. Her sudden control of the situation spiked heat along his bones with a mix of pain and pleasure unlike anything he’d felt before. The female in charge wasn’t new to him, but there was something so untried about her that her move shocked him. Even kissing her felt like tasting forbidden fruit. Sweet, ripe, juicy fruit.
His free hand slid up her rib cage until the curve of her breast stopped him. He stayed there, unwilling to go farther without some sign from her. Then her other hand came up to grip one of his horns and he inhaled at the caress of her silk-clad fingers on that sensitive area. The sensation only made him kiss her with greater hunger, eager to show her what she was doing to him. How odd that she could fire him up while at the same time kissing him with the tentativeness of someone unused to such intimacy. Even her fingers seemed to twine with his in a questing way that bordered on exploratory.
The awareness of her innocence flared into a thousand different things inside him, but the strongest of them was the sudden desire to protect her, to keep her innocent, to have her for himself. The want of those things pulsed within him, dark as dying stars.
She gasped and pushed away from him, her hand untangling from his instantly. Her mouth was open and her breath was coming as hard as the thumps of her heartbeat. Fear and regret tinged her amber eyes with a feral orange gleam. One gloved hand wiped at her mouth as she backed away. “I have to go.”
“Wait.” He reached for her, unsure of what had happened but thick with the need for her to stay. “Angel, come back to me.”
“No,” she whispered, her voice ragged. “Leave me alone, fae.” And then she turned and ran down the dark street.
He wanted to chase her, to make her explain, but that wasn’t his way. If a woman said no, she said no and he stopped right there. But no did little to ease his curiosity about what he’d done to upset her. And nothing to quench the fire she’d ignited in him.
He tore his mask off and stared after her, but she was long gone. Her words, “Leave me alone, fae,” echoed in his head. He frowned at the strangeness of her word choice. Not that he hadn’t been called fae before in a derogatory way. Since the covenant had been broken, it happened more than he liked, but there were worse things to be called. It wasn’t a big deal, except that it was an odd thing to hear from the mouth of another fae. At least he thought she was fae. With those eyes…
With a soft snort, he slipped his mask back on. Angel might not want him, but tonight was Nokturnos. There were plenty of other women looking for company. But even as the thought entered his mind, it lacked appeal. He wanted Angel. Ridiculous that he’d want a woman who didn’t want him, but there it was. Her sense of innocence combined with her sharp wit and the knowledge that her trust would be hard-won only piqued his interest. After having that small taste of her, she was all he could think about.
It would be sunrise before he headed home, but the only company he’d be sharing the rest of his evening with came in a bottle.
Chapter Six
If there was anything last night had taught Harlow, it was that straying from her comfort zone rarely produced positive results. And yet here she was anyway. At her mother’s house. With the early morning sun beating down on her like a punishment. If Olivia had only relented and given her the information about her father she’d begged for, they’d have a very different relationship. But no, Mother knew best. And now Harlow was finally going to have to capitulate and agree to let the issue of her paternity rest if she wanted Olivia’s help. Somehow, she would have to find a way to ignore the empty place in her heart that she’d lived with her entire life. Resigned to the reality of what lay ahead, she pushed her sunglasses back on her nose, stopped leaning against her car and walked to the front door.
At least this part of New Orleans was blissfully quiet. A few blocks down, a woman walked her dog. Other than that, the streets were empty.
The house was impossibly beautiful, but Harlow hadn’t expected anything less. Olivia Goodwin lived her life in a very certain way, with a very certain style. One Harlow had long ago forsaken. What would her life have been like if she’d let the issue of her father drop when she was a teenager? Would she be someone different now? Would she have embraced her fae side?
What would her life have been like if she’d known her father? Had a parent who understood her need to be human? Because she was sure her father was strictly human for no other reason than that she’d believed it for so long it had become part of his canon.
Part of why she denied her fae side as much as she did. Part of why she clung to being human. His human blood in her veins was the only thing of him she had. Her only connection.
And she was about to give up any chance of solidifying that connection to save her own skin. That was if her mother wouldn’t hold the years of estrangement against her, but that hope was as thin as the whole in her heart was large.
Feeling like a traitor to the father she’d never known, she stood in front of the big, leaded-glass doors and lifted her hand to knock. She was trembling a little. Not because she was afraid to see her mother, but because real-life confrontation on this scale scared the breath out of her. Online she was a warrior. In person… not so much. As she rapped her knuckles on the glass, she wished she could do this wearing her mask from last night. There was such comfort in anonymity.
An older African-American woman came to the door. The housekeeper and her mother’s companion. Eulalie, if Harlow remembered correctly. She opened the door. “Can I help you, miss?” Then her mouth went slack and she blinked hard. Her hand went to her throat. “Miss Harlow?”
Harlow nodded. “Hello, Eulalie. Is my mother home?”
“Lands, child. I cannot believe—” Eulalie smoothed the skirt of her flowered dress and straightened. “She sure is. We’re just fixin’ to have breakfast. You come on in now.” She opened the door wider.
“I’d rather wait here.” Something about entering her mother’s house without her mother knowing about it didn’t feel right. She’d wait until Olivia invited her in. If that happened.
Eulalie didn’t close the door. “All right then. I’ll go fetch her.”
“Thanks.” She sat in one of the rockers to wait, the smoky scent of bacon and strong coffee wafting out from the house and making her stomach grumble with upset. It was probably a combination of last night’s alcohol and this morning’s nerves, coupled with the sense that she was about to lose her father.
House of the Rising Sun Page 6
