“I haven’t given you enough credit. How much do you really know about ancient Egypt?”
“That’s a whole different day, Pip, but feel free to call me Dr. Kitt. I have my PhD in archeology and anthropology. I was writing a book on mythology until I became the main character. Werewolves? Right now, you and I have a date on Bourbon Street. You hungry or do you want a cocktail first?”
“Wow, Doc! How about a car to get us there? Then it’s on to the restaurant. I’m famished.”
“I love your appetite, woman.”
“Ethan, you haven’t seen me in action yet.”
“No, but I’m looking forward to seeing a lot of you and very actively under me.”
“Not this week you won’t.” Savanah stepped closer to Ethan. Close enough to kiss him, but instead she whispered, “Once the keys are mine, I’ll take you for one, long, slow ride,” as she ran her fingers from his lips to his belt buckle. “It’ll be fun seeing who I get a smoother ride from, who packs more horsepower beneath their hood…”
“It’ll be a bumpy ride and there’s no hood. Trust me, you won’t make it a week. You’ll be mine by this evening.”
Savanah tugged at his belt. “You’re delusional. Come on, you promised me food.”
****
The black coupe corvette had all of three miles on it when they drove off the car lot. Savanah sank down into the buttery, soft, black leather interior. Getting comfy, she put her feet up on the dashboard, only to have them knocked down immediately by Ethan, a scowl etched into his very being. “I can’t believe you bought this car.”
“I can’t believe you just put your feet up on my brand new baby. That’s twice in twenty-four hours!”
Savanah gave him an indignant nose twitch and asked, “How are you planning on getting it home?”
“It? I’m leaving you here and flying her home with me. At least this way I’ll get to ride one beauty.”
Savanah waited to see if he was joking… Mr. Poker-face gave up naught. “You were teasing? You’re not really going to leave me?”
Ethan grabbed Savanah’s hair and tugged her toward him. When she was close enough to kiss he whispered, “No, little nut, I’ll not leave you. You can ride in the back seat of my car on the way home.”
“This thing doesn’t have a back seat, Ethan.” Savanah shoved him away.
“My bad. No, but my plane has a little compartment you can stretch out in. It has all the amenities of home. Bourbon Street Blues or Pat O’Brien’s first. Your choice.”
“O’Brien’s has the hurricane’s right?”
Once in the parking lot she watched Ethan pay the attendant for three spaces so no one would get near his newest toy. “Are you always this anal?” She pinched his backside.
“Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”
“Oh, Ethan,” Savanah yawned. “I have every intention of finishing you.”
Ethan perked up instantly.
“Give or take one hundred sixty-eight hours.” Her grin reeked mischief as she bumped into his side with her hip.
Inside Pat O’Brien’s restaurant the Creole crab steaming in the kitchen instantly flipped the switch on Savanah’s appetite. Her stomach started a loud rumble that made Ethan laugh.
Catching her, he threw his arm over her shoulder and brought her close.
She slipped her arm around his back, torn where to rest her hand. On his hip—boring! Or his ass? Her lips curled upward. Savanah slid her hand into the back pocket of his jeans and with a hint of stealthiness, copped a feel at his firm glutes.
Ethan kissed the side of her neck. “I’m glad you picked my pocket,” he teased. “I love this place. It’s rustic, old-world gentlemanly.” He pointed to the beer steins that hung from the ceiling and empty champagne bottles that doubled as lights on walls.
One foot inside the piano bar, Savanah’s jaw dropped. “This place is fantastic. Papa and Aunt Raven would kill to play here. Look, Eth, two copper-topped baby grand pianos. Oh, they’d so be in heaven. So would you if you heard the two of them play together. They’re better than Billy Joel and Elton John together until my dad sings, then the hooks come out.” Savanah walked to the edge of one of the pianos and ran her fingers across the top of it, gently stroking each ivory key. Melodies sifted through the air.
Envy struck Ethan with more accuracy than her fingers did the keys. He wanted her delicate hands tapping out tunes on him instead of the piano. His fantasy disintegrated when a young man in a green waistcoat, and a velvet green bowtie carried two tall, fruity, concoctions with oranges and cherries skewered onto tiny swords to them.
“This way,” the waiter said as he led them through to the patio where they could be in a much more private setting. Outside, Ethan admired the flaming fountain, another hallmark of the restaurant. In between jet streams of water, flames sparked into the atmosphere defying the water’s ability to extinguish it. The fountain became his metaphor for Savanah, warm and wet, or at least she would be later in the evening if all things in their universe symmetrically coincided. Otherwise, he’d be cold, wet and alone in the shower!
“They’re potent, watch yourselves. One usually does the trick. More than that and you’ll end up like this.” The green coat shot his thumb over his shoulder to the table beside them. People weighted down with strands of beads, masks covering their faces and a table full of empty glasses, hooted and hollered and did what tourists do best, they enjoyed themselves.
Savanah clinked her frosty glass to Ethan’s. “Cheers, Ethan. Here’s to a lifetime of making up our own bedtime stories.”
With a subtle cock of his head, Ethan tipped his glass to her. “May each one be sensually erotic with a happily ever after.” Unable to stay away from her one second longer, Ethan reached out, hooked under her chin with his index finger and slowly brought her across the table to him. “No more teasing, Pippy, kiss me.” He puckered up. Every muscle in his body tensed with anticipation. With Savanah’s warm sweet lips caressing his, all he could think about was what the rest of her would feel like to kiss, suck and lap at from her pouty mouth to her private lips. Solid as a rock took on new meaning. There he sat, trapped between pleasure and pain and more than happy to be in the predicament. Ethan grabbed Savanah’s chair and dragged her next him. There was too much space between them. Shit, he didn’t want air between them.
Their kiss transcended time. Ethan wondered how he’d gotten her on his lap, straddling him, her private lips grinding into him with unrestrained fury when only moments prior he complained about the vast horizon that had separated them.
Savanah’s eyes glistened like black diamonds under the starry night. He tangled his fists in her thick curls, and tugged. “By the God’s you’re beautiful!”
Savanah pressed a soft kiss against his lips. The warmth of her skin against his blasted through him like electricity slamming against the breakers, waiting for the switch to be flipped and let loose. Tingles were replaced by rigors. The stars he saw were no longer in the sky, but behind closed eyes. She relaxed and gave herself to him as his tongue swept through her mouth. He wanted all of her and damn any consequences that happened their way.
“I’m so hot.” She picked up her glass and finished the last drop of her hurricane. “Did we scare everyone off?”
A quick glance around the patio, all the tables were empty. Before, when they first arrived, scattered couples basked in the late day sun. Now, just the two of them sat under a canopy of glistening gems with the moon glimmering overhead.
“Savage, how long have we been here? I don’t even recall the sun setting. I don’t remember drinking all these drinks either.” Ethan pointed to six empty hurricane glasses. “You and I should be trashed right now, Savage. Savage? I spoke to soon. Shi—”
Savanah’s eyes rolled backwards. Her long slender body slumped away from him, and she slipped out of the chair, heading toward the floor.
“Oh no you don’t. Savanah don’t pass out on me. Please? Nooo!””
Ethan tipped one of the glasses over, and trickled melted ice over her face, trying to get her to come around, but his attempts proved futile. “Out cold. You’re a cheap date.”
The green coat returned. “Mr. Kitt, there is a car waiting out front for you and your lady, Miss St. James.”
Funny how certain situations can sober a person instantly. Fear being one. Ethan asked, “How the hell do you know our names?” He searched the perimeter. Nothing.
“Sir,” the man answered, “I do not know you, but the gentleman outside seems to. He bought you the drinks and personally brought you them. You spoke for quite some time. Before that, you and your lady sat at our piano singing, some, Sonny and Cher, melody. Poorly, I might add. You remember nothing of this? The gentleman left a calling card with you.”
“I sing quite well,” he mumbled as he scraped up the tiny soggy, ink-smudged black card stuck to the bottom of one of the glasses. He read the inscription:
Draque. Thanks You For Your Indentured Services. Flipping the card over, scribed in meticulous penmanship it read: What you stole from me, has now been stolen from you. How does it feel? I want it returned, and just possibly I’ll spare the rod.
“What the hell? I don’t know any Draque. Do you keep a video camera surveying the restaurant?” Ethan hoped to see the person who bought them drinks and now had a car waiting for them. Call it a hunch, Ethan had a sneaky suspicion this new turn of events didn’t get the happily ever after ending he’d wished for.
“This is a public establishment, a place where people come to relax and enjoy themselves without anyone’s watchful eyes. Just as you and your lady were doing.”
“Just how much were we doing?” Ethan’s chest tightened. A few vague memories swam in his head of Savanah gyrating on his lap, pressing her breasts into his chest, her hardened nipples rubbing against him. Was it a dream? Please say no.
“Not enough to get you kicked out. The lap dance cleared a few people, but you two kept your clothes on.”
Ethan wiped the sweat from his brow. “Do you have a back door?”
“What about the man?”
“My lady and I came here alone. We told no one where we were headed. Do you understand?” Frustrated, Ethan gripped the green coat’s velvet collar. “I’m sorry. Please? Get us out of here?” He released him and smoothed out his collar.
The waiter brushed him away. “I have explicit instructions, Mr. Kitt, that states…”
“Screw your instructions. Now, get us out or the only tip I’ll ever give you is how to get your head out of your ass once I put it there. Although, I can’t tell the difference anyway.” Ethan shoved the waiter out of his way. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty, over my shoulder.” Ethan started toward the back of the patio with Savanah flopped over his shoulder. The waiter bolted toward the front of the restaurant, shoving people out of his way. Holding onto Savanah tightly and running, Ethan took off, like a cadaver dog chasing down a zombie. In the car lot, Ethan noticed his newest baby had been tampered with. He continued past. The gas cap lay on the ground next to a puddle of pale yellow, fluid. Bending over gingerly with the girlfriend out on his shoulder, he sniffed out the substance on the ground and backed away. A sweet fragrance permeated the area. He looked around to see if anyone watched him or the car. Oddly, he found no one.
“Come on, Savanah. You have to wake up. Just long enough to start a fire. Oh, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he whispered to no one conscious. “Up you go, Savvy.” Ethan leaned Savanah against a Hummer parked about fifty feet from his ’vet. Kissing her for lack of anything better to try and get her to come ’round, he gave it his best shot. Savanah sloppily returned the gesture. “Open the baby blues for me, Savage.”
Savanah squinted then began to laugh and continued until she vomited all over the Hummer.
Hanging on to his shoulders she asked, “I don’t feel so well, Eth. What’s wrong with me?”
“I’m pretty certain we were drugged, Savanah.”
“How come you don’t feel like I look?”
“You said that backwards, sweets, and I’m a shifter. The drugs wear off much faster in me. About three times as fast. You, on the other hand are going to be out of it for a bit. Can you walk?”
Savanah shook her head yes, but she slid to the ground the moment Ethan let go of her. He scooped her up and flattened her against the vehicle with his body.
“Can you start a little fire for me, my little witch?”
“Just aim and shoot. Pick a finger, any finger, and we’ll see.” Savanah huffed a large curl from her vision and wiggled all ten fingers at him. “Are you cold? Is that why you want a fire? Ethan—I can warm you up.” Savanah tried wrapping her legs around his waist, but lost what balance she owned and tipped sideways.
“Oh, Savanah, not now.” Saying no to her was the hardest thing Ethan ever did. “Right now we need to get away from here so later—yes later, you can warm me up, but first ignite that puddle under our new car.”
“Our car? Oh, I’ve always wanted a ’vet.”
“And a beamer. Anything else you want?” he asked still scanning the area for trouble. He hoped if someone wanted them dead seeing the car turn into a fiery death trap it would satisfy someone’s fatal attraction.
“You. That’s three letters, Eth. So’s your name.” Savanah giggled. She leaned forward and tried to kiss him, but she missed and continued forward until he caught her in his arms.
The bulge in Ethan’s pants spiked. He couldn’t help it. She’d said the one and only thing he needed to hear come from her lips. Granted she’d been drugged and the alcohol factored into the equation, but she’d said she wanted him. Right now, even blowing up his car didn’t bother him.
Ethan lifted her finger and aimed it at the yellow oily puddle. Some bastard added instant Kaboom to his gas tank. He knew because chemistry had been his saving grace in college. He understood the world very clearly from a molecular level. The tiniest details mattered. C3H5(NO3)3 or dinitrooxypropan-2-yl nitrate aka Nitroglycerin. The numbers would forever be engrained in his gray matter. Archeology and anthropology became a passion later in life, one that he could share with Savanah, if they lived that long. “Now, Savage. Let’s heat things up. Kiss me and light my fire.”
Savanah kissed him. Her lips were magic in the making against him, but no big boom came from behind. No rush of heat or flames. The car sat beautifully intact. However, the heat and flames inside his body now threatened spontaneous combustion. All he wanted right then was her but as his luck would have it, Ethan noticed a shadow crawling toward the car. The giant ink-splat seemed to soak up the pavement better than paper towel soaked up spills. “Come on, Pip.” Ethan grabbed Savanah’s finger, flicking it toward the car in a last ditch effort.
Savanah held her belly and laughed. “That’s not how it’s done, silly. I’m not a lighter, Eth. And don’t pull this finger,” she wiggled her pinky finger under his nose, “It’ll make me toot.”
At that point Ethan just wanted to kiss her again, thinking she was the cutest drunken and drugged witch alive.
She wiped her mouth off with the back of her sleeve then flicked her nail off her fingertip. “You’re such a sloppy kisser.”
Ready to protest he kissed better than Casanova, a bluish-red spark seared across the lot toward the car followed by a thunderous clap, which shook the earth they once stood upon. Savanah and Ethan went air born almost twenty feet, only to land in a soured, rotted-meat stench of a dumpster. The vet rocketed into the night sky like the space shuttle lifting off, with bright orange flames pushing the car higher into the sky. The brilliantly crafted automobile exploded and chunks of fragmented metal filtered through the night like a firework display gone awry. Ethan covered Savanah with his body as the debris rained down, and bounced off their invisible shield. Ethan looked at Savanah, perplexed.
How did she do that unconscious, because she’d passed out again. And he didn’t do it. Being a werewolf didn’t give him magical powers, just some
serious strength. Ethan checked her pulse. Nice and strong. Picking her up, and brushing off gooey leftovers of people’s lives, he inspected every square inch of her, making certain she wasn’t broken or bleeding. One beautiful piece. He let out a long slow breath and then jumped when his cell phone started chirping at him.
The caller ID came up unknown. One ring. To answer it, or not to answer it, he pondered. Could be the mystery man from the bar. Two, three…four rings later, Ethan growled into the phone, “Who is this?” hoping to intimidate whomever was on the other end and sounding just like Savanah earlier this morning.
“Get my daughter out of there right now.”
“Jovan? How did you…?”
“Listen to me, you little mutt,” she screamed, “get her away from there now! Get back to the airport and get your little tub…”
“It’s a plane, not a tub, and stop calling me a mutt,” Ethan screamed into the cell. “What’s happening?”
“Semantics, Ethan. Call me when you’re in the air.” Jovan hung up.
“But I don’t have…your number, Mom, and your daughter’s not really in a chatty mood!” Ethan flipped the lid on his phone, and jammed it into his pants pocket. Looking at Savanah, he wondered what possible feat it would be to get them to the airport with her draped over his shoulder and not end up in the big house.
“Come on my edible nut, wakey, wakey. Your mother just called. We had a most pleasant chat as usual. I really think she’s warming up to me because she sounded pretty hot on the phone!” Unable to do anything else at the moment, Ethan laughed at the ridiculousness of the night. His girlfriend was down for the count, his brand new vet resembled the last car left on the field after a demolition derby and some random man, Draque, left them his calling card and they were up to their eyeballs in only God knew what. It was best left that way. In the far distance the piercing screams of sirens echoed through the vacant lot.
“Yeah, Pippy, your mom’s right. We’re outta here.” Ethan picked Savanah up, draped her in his arms and held her tightly to his chest as he climbed out of the bacteria-ridden tin box and navigated the back alleyways. Coming out onto Bourbon Street, he realized they blended right in; lovers and drunks alike enjoying each other and the night, dancing in the street to their own tune. The street didn’t have the flavor of Mardi Gras, but it came close. Holding Savanah, he wished they could enjoy the ambiance of the evening like this instead of fading into the darkness. This was not how he envisioned their first date. Oh—far from it. Pushing and shoving through the maraud of people, he finally scoped out a vacant patch of sidewalk where he sat down with her draped in his lap. He leaned over and rested his lips on her head.
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