Margo had never been in the employee’s only part of Ricky’s, but she had no other choice but to push through a door that led to a storage room with liquor stacked to the ceiling. She entered and prayed there was an exit. To her relief, there was.
She hurried past shelves of unopened bottles of booze and slammed through a door that had a sign warning of an alarm if opened. Hell, the way the men were acting inside, they needed an alarm.
Once outside, she inhaled warm, moist air that could only be characteristic of the Bayou.
“What the fuck was that?” she muttered to herself.
“It was you.”
Margo jumped, startled by the deep voice and the richness of the French accent. She spun around and came face to face with the ancient, very sexy vampire, Bishop Delacroix.
Good Lord
Viking was the word that came to mind when she looked at him. He was a giant of a man with icy blond hair and a lustrous beard.
“Don’t you know what you are?” he asked.
Margo frowned. What kind of question was that? Before she could even think to ask, the door she came out of flew open. Men were struggling like Archie and the Meathead to get past the threshold. The big, blonde vampire snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. Just as the men had figured out a way to get out of the door, a black SUV pulled into the gravel-covered parking lot.
Without a word, the vampire steered her by her waist to the SUV. He ushered her inside and climbed in after. After instructing the driver to go, he relaxed against the leather seat.
“Hi. I’m Beth,” came an overly chipper greeting from a dark-haired woman.
“Margo,” she offered in a mutter.
Margo looked around, surveying her cramped new surroundings. Sitting in the front seat was the handsome, dark-complexioned vampire from the council meeting.
“It’s nice to meet you, Margo.”
Margo nodded and looked out into the dark, Louisiana marshland and noticed that they were headed down a gravel road that she’d never traveled. She turned to the handsome vampire and was surprised by the tinge of jealousy she felt seeing the dark-haired woman sitting next to him.
“Where are we going?” Margo asked him.
“A better party,” he rumbled in a deep baritone.
Margo’s eyes narrowed.
He raised a golden brow and presented a mischievous smirk. Even in the dark, his eyes sparkled like the deep blue sea.
“Don’t worry, chéri. We don’t bite,” he chuckled. “That is unless you consent.”
Admittedly, his intense good looks and boss-man swagger were alluring. Just not alluring enough for her to be sitting comfortably in a car filled with strangers who might very well be the enemy.
“Where are we going?” Margo repeated without an ounce of mirth.
“Back to my estate. There’s a gathering,” he told her.
“A gathering of vampires?” Margo frowned skeptically. “I’ll pass.”
Bishop leaned forward, staring pointedly with a furrowed brow. “Why?”
Margo leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.
“Other than today, the only time I’ve come in contact with vampires was when I was fighting for my life. I’m sure you understand why I’m guarded.”
“Hmph.” His scoff was filled with indifference. “Guarded? You entered a vehicle full of vampires without the slightest hesitation. Something tells me you’re very comfortable. Maybe it’s your power of compulsion that makes you feel safe.”
Margo blinked, stunned that he was aware of a power that she, herself, had just recently discovered. Without responding, she turned and looked out of the window. But his large hand, on her uncovered thigh, demanded her attention. Margo twisted to look at him.
“You have no idea of the power you possess, chéri. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have broken out into song in front of a room full of men.”
The need to know what he meant was battling the urge to run her fingers through his lustrous beard.
“You’ve just come upon your powers, yes?”
Margo frowned. They knew an awful lot about her.
“Yes,” she admitted.
He nodded. “Soon, you will learn your capabilities.”
Margo raised a brow. Little did he know, she was fully aware of her capabilities. She knew that she was a siren, that she could control most men with just a whisper. Though she found out that her powers didn’t work on Gideon or Gabriel. Possibly because they shared the same blood. Margo wasn’t sure.
“Siren, did you not know that your song can drive men to madness?”
Margo tilted her head with a confused squint.
“What are you talking about?”
Bishop chuckled and leaned back in his seat.
“I’m talking about why you had to escape through the back door of a bar that you normally frequent? Surely, this was not your first time performing Karaoke.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“But it is your first time since you gained your gifts?”
Margo thought back. It was the first time she’d sang in front of anyone since she discovered her abilities.
“Your song can compel a man to do things that he would never do under normal circumstances. You must learn to wield your power correctly, Chéri.”
Margo wasn’t blind. It was impossible not to see how the men in the bar morphed into zombies on the hunt for flesh. Though, she never guessed that it was her singing that caused it. Truthfully, when Margo first found out she had the power of compulsion, she didn’t think much of it. She used it for her own petty desires.
Margo had no intention of ever letting her family know what she could do until she had no other choice. They were attacked, so she had to use her gift to defend her family. And now, she was curious as to what she could actually do.
“I will help you,” the vampire offered.
Margo narrowed her eyes suspiciously, wondering why a vampire, no... the vampire was so willing to help her. And she thought of asking. Instead, she asked, “How can you help me, vampire?”
“Bishop,” he corrected. “Call me Bishop, please.”
Margo nodded. “How can you help me, Bishop?”
His smirk was supercilious when he turned to the brunette. Bishop lifted her chin with his finger until she was looking in his eyes.
“Get out,” he whispered.
Without the tiniest bit of hesitation, the woman... Beth reached for the doorknob and tried to open the door. When she couldn’t get it open, she pushed a button to lower the glass and tried to go head first out of the window.
When Margo realized that Bishop, or no one else in the car, was going to stop her, she grabbed the woman’s arms to keep her inside. Beth yanked her arm away with force and continued her escape attempt via the window. When her shoulders cleared the opening, Margo panicked. Beth was tiny, and if Margo didn’t do something, her fragile little body would have violently smacked the pavement.
Margo turned to Bishop in a panic and screamed, “Do something!”
Bishop laughed but did nothing to save the frenzied woman from sudden death. Margo pulled the women’s leg and anchored herself by pushing her foot against the door, but she let go when she got kicked. Still, Bishop did nothing. Enraged by his callousness, Margo turned to him with a fuming glare.
“Make her stop!”
“That doesn’t work on me,” Bishop informed with a grin.
He seemed callously amused.
“Bishop!” she shouted, hearing the ferocity and desperation in her voice.
“Okay, okay,” he acquiesced with an irritating chuckle.
He leaned forward and whispered for her to sit. And just like that, Beth instantly stopped struggling to get out and sat demurely in the seat next to him. The woman was behaving as if she hadn’t just tried to hurl herself out of a speeding vehicle. Margo sat back in her seat and stared at her as if she were from outer space.
Margo shook her head.
“What the fuck!” she scoffed.
“Watch your language, siren,” Bishop scolded.
He should’ve thought better of scolding her like a child.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, watch your language,” he repeated, frankly. “Nothing so vulgar should come out of a mouth so beautiful.”
“Let me tell you something, vampire,” Margo began with the roll of her neck. “You may control these motha-.”
“That is enough!” the vampire barked.
Margo’s lips pressed instantly shut. Maybe her body was heeding a warning that had yet to connect with her brain. Her instinct was to fight, but her common sense told her to shut the fuck up. After all, she was in a car occupied by vampires, headed God knows where. Margo considered herself tough... not stupid. So, she scooted closer to the door and stared defiantly out of the window.
While lost in the darkness of a warm Louisiana night, Margo wondered where he was taking her, and if she’d survive the trip.
“I apologize for my tone, mon chéri. Please, believe me when I say, that you are under my protection. You are perfectly safe.”
Taken aback, Margo turned to him suspiciously. Could he read minds? The last thing she needed in her life was another clairvoyant.
“So, you read minds too?” she asked, unable to mask her irritation.
The dark-skinned vampire chuckled, but Bishop smiled, displaying beautifully white teeth. Admittedly, while she admired his smile, Margo was searching for fangs.
“No, beauty, I read faces. I’ve been around an exceptionally long time. I’ve learned to read a person’s body language.”
“How long?” she knew that she was being intrusive, but since he felt like he could censor her words, she would ask whatever she wanted. “How are old are you?”
Bishop smirked; a lop-sided grin that showed a slightly prominent white canine. He was undeniably sexy.
“I may have lost count,” he admitted through a chuckle. “But I can tell you I am older than New Orleans.”
Margo’s brows furrow in disbelief.
Aw damn!
“Older than New Orleans?”
“Oui.”
A million times, she’d teased Nola about falling for an old man, Gideon. But he was a baby compared to the ancient vampire.
“We’re here!” Beth announced in a high-pitched bubble that made Margo’s eyes narrow.
She looked out of the window, but all she saw an abyss of darkness. Where exactly was here? She leaned forward for a better look. Finally, she saw a giant, black wrought-iron gate that slowly separated in the middle.
Once the gates opened, the driver continued down a dark, vaporous pathway to... where? Upon closer inspection, Margo could see bushels and bushels of plants along the way. Though, she couldn’t tell what flowers, if any, were blooming.
Soon they were pulling in front of an estate that seemed vastly out of place in any part of Louisiana. It was a giant palace made of brick and stone, complete with moat and drawbridge.
Once they crossed the short bridge, Margo suppressed a gasp. She refused to reveal how awestruck she was with the imposing opulence of the medievalesque castle.
“Marguerite?”
The vampire’s deep rumble diverted her attention. He was already out of the vehicle, with his hand inside, waiting to assist her.
“Oh, sorry,” she softly apologized, placing her hand inside his. As soon as her fingers touched the rough skin of his palm, a jolt of excitement rushed throughout her entire body. Margo shivered and pulled her hand from his.
“I’m good,” she told him, climbing out of the backseat.
Once both feet were on the ground, Margo looked up, and was reacquainted with his arrogant, but oh so sexy, grin.
“What’s your problem?” Margo scoffed.
He shook his head. “No problem, chérie. Shall we?” Bishop angled his hand toward giant double doors with elaborate carvings.
Margo fell behind Beth and followed her to the entry. Her heart raced at the realization that her curiosity could very well get her killed. Vampires were their enemies. Why was she so compelled to see inside their lair?
Margo stood with the rest as the massive doors creaked open. Without a lick of hesitation, Beth damn near skipped across the threshold. Margo turned and looked up at Bishop.
“Is she a vampire or a human?”
Bishop chuckled.
“She is not a vampire. She is very much human, but not like you, chéri.”
Margo glared at him with a frown.
“What do you mean, not like me?”
Bishop smiled and placed his hand in the small of her back.
“You’re special,” he pointed out, urging her toward the entrance.
Margo knew that she was special, compared to most. But she was still human. She could bleed and die like the rest. Without digging into his comment, she turned and walked through the doors.
As she crossed the threshold, Margo reassured herself that if the ancient vampire wanted her dead, he could have killed her as soon as their path crossed in the dark parking lot.
When she stepped into the large foyer, the sound of dark ambient music floated throughout the castle. The walls were a soft gray with white moldings. She walked across the room, looking down at a mural made of ceramic tile that depicted what seemed to be a historic battle.
The volume of the music increased when Margo accompanied Bishop into a common room filled with fashionably dressed... people? Since Beth wasn’t a vampire, she had no way of telling who was or wasn’t human. But, human or not, every one of them looked like they’d just stepped off of a Paris runway. Some were sipping from champagne flutes, others from golden chalices. Margo imagined they were filled with the blood of some innocent human victim.
With every eye trained on her, Margo crossed the room with her head held high. There wasn’t a smile in the room. No doubt, every vampire in the place knew exactly who she was. They glared rudely as she moved among them in what felt like slow motion. She returned a few scowls before crossing an archway into a long corridor. Once they made the turn, Margo noticed that Bishop’s entourage stayed behind in the common room.
“This place is huge,” she marveled.
“Yes. There’s none like it in all of Louisiana.” He held his palms out in front of him and smiled proudly. “Built by these two hands, along with a few others.”
The unreachable ceiling and the light gray walls were an illuminating contrast to the medieval architecture. Adorning the walls were paintings in vintage frames with subjects that may have been relatives.
“It’s beautiful,” Margo admitted.
“Merci.”
Every time he spoke, the rumble and richness of his deep, accented voice sent jolts of fervor straight to her core. Feeling a bit warm, Margo pushed loose strands of her long African locs out of her face. She started to ask him exactly where he was taking her when she stumbled upon a painting that stopped her in her tracks. Margo stared through a squint, recognizing someone that she possibly knew.
“Is that-,”
“Oui.”
Margo gasped. To her incredible surprise, it was Auriette Moreau, her ancestor, that was burned at the stake. She had never seen a picture of her, but the artist placed great emphasis on the woman’s golden eyes. They seemed to glow. And if illuminated eyes weren’t enough proof, sitting next to her was Gabriel. Next to him was Gideon. The two appeared exactly as they looked that very day. They hadn’t aged a day.
With her feet cemented to the marble floor, Margo stared in awe at the painting. At the head of the table was a clean-cut, gorgeous version of Bishop. Her lips crept into a smile as she stared at the more conservative image of the rugged, blue-eyed vampire standing next to her.
“Wow,” Margo marveled in a whisper. “Look at that handsome fellow. You’re almost pretty,” she teased.
“Hmph. That’s not funny, chéri.”
He pressed his palm to her back, urging her to continue dow
n the hall.
“Okay, okay,” Margo acquiesced with a giggle.
Bishop led her to a large wooden door.
“But, really... what was up with that painting? Weren’t the vampires and my tribe of Voodoo practitioner’s mortal enemies?”
Bishop shook his head and pushed the door open with a frown.
“Absolutely not. That, chéri, is a portrait of The Ancient Counsel of Mystics. There was a time when we were of one accord, and we worked well together.”
“Really?” Margo squinted. That was surprising to hear.
“Oui. It wasn’t until the priest became obsessed with Auriette did the conflict between the witches and your tribe begin. And foolishly, the vampire I appointed as regent allowed himself to be used as a tool for the priest.”
“Here,” Bishop told her. “This is where I unwind. Come. Have a drink. Grey Goose, right?”
Margo wanted to ask how he knew her drink preference, but she didn’t bother. He knew a lot of stuff he shouldn’t know.
“Oui, monsieur.”
Margo followed him inside and took a seat on a velvet settee near a giant picture window, adorned with elaborate, gold drapes. Bishop chose a large antique chair that likened a throne and sat directly across from her.
As soon as his ass touch the seat, a young blonde entered the room and leaned in to him to hear his instructions. He hadn’t so much as pushed a button or rang a bell, and there was already someone there to serve him. Benjamin could certainly take a lesson from the young blonde. Then it dawned on Margo, she may not have been young at all. For all she knew, the woman was a hundred years old. Vampires, like wolves, apparently didn’t age like humans.
“Ça vous plaît?” Bishop asked, snapping her attention to him. “How do you like it?”
“Oh,” Margo smiled shyly. “Um... chilled. Thank you?”
He nodded at the blonde. As soon as she exited, Beth entered.
“Monsieur, will you be needing me?” she asked timidly.
When Bishop turned to her with a smile that seemed tender, the burn of jealousy heated Margo’s cheeks.
“Not at the moment, chéri. Enjoy the party. I will call on you shortly.”
“Okay,” she complied.
She turned to Margo, smiled politely, then left.
BLOODLUST Page 4
