He angled his body toward her, and though his feet didn’t move, the distance between them seemed to shrink. “No one knew what happened to you. One day you were at school, and then you were gone.”
She laughed dryly. “And I’m sure people spread all kinds of rumors, right? The devil took me back to hell?”
“I’ve never been one for rumors.” He shrugged. “Is it true, though? What happened to you when you were a baby?”
She chewed the inside of her cheek and glanced at her altar. She really should get to work, and that would be the perfect reason to excuse herself from this conversation. But something about being near this man made her want to be closer. The warning bells sounding in her head turned to full-blown sirens, but she felt compelled to tell him the truth. At least a little of it. “I did die when I was born, yes. But my mom didn’t make a deal with the devil to bring me back; she prayed to Baron Samedi.” She nodded at her altar. “He’s the loa of death, and he’s in charge of the crossroads…whom he takes to the spirit realm and who gets another chance at life.”
James clutched his hands behind his back and stepped toward the altar. “I’ve heard of this guy.”
She moved next to him, close enough to invade his personal space, but not nearly as close as the fire inside her urged her to be. When he didn’t step away, the flames grew hotter. “He’s not evil or a demon or anything else people claim. He granted my mom’s wish, and he spared my life.”
He leaned in closer to the altar, examining the offerings she’d laid on it. “He’s the rum god, right? He makes good rum.” He grinned and winked.
She laughed. “He’s not a god, and he doesn’t make rum.” Taking a small bottle from the mantle, she ran a finger across the label. “I make the rum to honor him. My parents opened the distillery as an offering to Baron Samedi in exchange for my life. Now that I’m back in New Orleans, I’m running it.”
He blinked. “You’re the Baroness?”
Returning the bottle to the altar, she ground her teeth. “Only people who don’t know any better call me that. Baron Samedi crowned me when he gave me my life back, but I’m not his wife.”
“Crowned you?”
“He’s my met tet. Sort of like a guardian angel. He’s the main loa who walks with me, and he gave me my abilities to communicate with the dead.”
“Fascinating.” He looked at her, an expression of awe softening his handsome features.
Her pulse quickened. The self-preservation instinct caused most people to back away the moment she mentioned her guardian angel was death himself, which was why she rarely mentioned it. “You’re not afraid of me now that you know I’m crowned by death?”
He chuckled. “I’ve never been afraid of death.”
She held his gaze a little longer, and the spark she’d been failing miserably at extinguishing grew hot enough to consume her. If the suspicion gnawing her gut was true, he needed to be very afraid.
She’d done everything she could to avoid this. Ever since she figured out her horrific life cycles, she’d steered clear of men to prevent the possibility of falling in love. She needed to squelch the desire burning in her core and get away from this man before her feelings could form into anything more than attraction.
“Right, well, I have to get to work. Is there anything else you need from me?”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but he closed it again. Sweeping his gaze across the room, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re sure your ghost friend won’t be an issue?”
She couldn’t hide her grin. “So, you are scared of something?”
“I’m not scared, but I’d rather not wake up on the floor again.”
“He won’t try to jump you.” A sense of unease settled in her stomach. Nicolas was strong, and controlling him had been way too easy.
He nodded. “The rest of the crew should be here any minute, and we’ll get started. I’ll always be the first one here and the last to leave, so I’ll lock up if you aren’t home. No worries.”
“I’m not worried.” Not about the renovation, anyway. “Thank you, James.”
“My pleasure.” His smile could have lit a city block. And the way his eyes crinkled with the curve of his lips had her mouth watering.
Not good, Odette. Walk away now.
She turned on her heel and strode to the kitchen. Shoving her laptop into her bag, she swung it over her shoulder and headed out the door without looking back. So she was attracted to a sexy werewolf. Who wouldn’t be? Just because she’d felt a little something for a man for the first time in more than a year, it didn’t mean he would be the one to doom her to death. Everything would be fine.
Chapter Six
Rolling his neck to stretch out the soreness, James shuffled into the living room. He’d spent all day in the house prepping it for the retexturing of the walls and painting, and his shoulders ached from hunching over to tape off the baseboards.
As Odette had promised, the ghost didn’t mess with him again, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him, following him through the house as he worked.
The crew had done their best to steer clear of this room. His men had taken one look at Odette’s altar to death, and they’d found any excuse they could to work somewhere else. He couldn’t blame them. Voodoo was a mysterious religion, and people on the outside…werewolves included…often misunderstood it. Once she’d explained her reasoning for having the altar, though, it made sense.
James wiped his hands on the towel he’d been carrying all day and peered at the smear of blood on the fabric. After staying wadded up in his pocket, the stain was probably set. He owed Odette a new towel. He wouldn’t mind taking her to dinner for the trouble too. Getting to know her.
He scratched his head. His wolf had been dead set on claiming a woman he’d never met, but the moment he’d laid eyes on Odette, his beast started having second thoughts.
Normally, any inkling of wanting to know a woman on a deeper level stopped him in his tracks, warning him it was time to move on. If his wolf wasn’t on board, he wasn’t wasting his time. But as this train of emotion blew its whistle, preparing to depart the station, the beast seemed to have one foot on the train and the rest on the platform. Make up your mind, buddy.
Luke would have his ass if he made a move on her without approval from his wolf. Not that she would be receptive to his advances if he tried. Up until that ghost slammed into him, knocking him out, she’d lived up to the rumors he’d heard about the Baroness. Stiff. Proper. All business.
It was a shell though, and he’d witnessed it crack when she’d cradled his head in her lap. She had a soft and tender side, and it intrigued him.
“I have to admit, I was expecting a shit hole.” Noah sauntered into the living room, pulling James from his thoughts. “But this place is nice. We’ll probably finish ahead of schedule.”
“Yeah.” James scanned the room, but he couldn’t remember why he’d wandered in here.
Odette didn’t want anything done to the fireplace, and he could see why. The previous owners had kept it in…or restored it to…its original grandeur. A dark wood mantle lined the exposed brick of the hearth, and with winter lasting all of two or three weeks in the South, the inside was as pristine as if it had never been used.
“That’s creepy.” Noah reached a hand toward the altar, and the skull and top hat flew into his palm. “It’s not real is it?” He turned the skull, and the hat slipped off.
James caught it before it hit the floor. “Put that back, dumbass. It’s a religious altar.” When Noah didn’t move to return the item, James yanked it from his hands and gingerly set it back in place. “Would you go into a Catholic person’s house and take their crucifix from the wall?”
“I guess not.” Noah leaned in to examine the artifacts. “Is she a devil worshipper?”
“She’s a vodouisant, and she has psychic medium abilities. She can talk to the dead, so she honors the Voodoo loa of death.”
>
Noah curled his lip. “Like I said. Creepy.”
“She’s not creepy. She’s…never mind.” There was no use in trying to explain it. Odette had close ties with death. Hell, she’d been dead at one time. Most people would find that disturbing, but James had grown up around death. It was part of life.
“At least she has good taste in liquor.” Noah reached for the bottle of rum on the altar.
James slapped his hand. “Don’t touch that. It’s an offering for the loa.”
“Not like the dude’s ever going to drink it.” He rubbed his hand and cut his gaze between the bottle and the skull. “Is that the same guy?”
“Yeah.”
“So she’s offering The Baron rum to Baron Samedi. Kinda cliché, isn’t it?” Noah laughed.
James ground his teeth. His friend’s clowning attitude usually didn’t bother him, but when Noah’s jokes were directed at Odette, they struck a chord. “She owns the distillery. The whole operation is an offering to the Spirit.”
Noah lifted his eyebrows. “Wait. We’re working for the Baroness?” He let out a disbelieving huff. “No room for mistakes then, I guess.”
“You know her?”
“One of my old man’s drinking buddies works there. I’ve heard stories. She’s all business. Dresses like she’s on her way to a funeral. Never smiles.” He crossed his arms. “They don’t even have company picnics or Christmas parties or anything. They go in, get the job done, and go home. Have to save the socializing for their own time.”
James furrowed his brow. His friends knew more about Odette than he did—he hadn’t even known she was back in town, and that bothered him more than it should have.
Noah grinned. “I recognize that look.”
James tried for a neutral expression. “What look? I don’t have a look.”
“You’ve got the hots for the client.”
“No, I don’t.”
Noah slapped him on the shoulder. “Whatever you say, man. Better not let Luke know. He’ll have you reassigned faster than a topless woman gathers beads at Mardi Gras.”
James narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have the hots for Odette.”
“Then why are you still here? The crew left half an hour ago.”
If he were honest with himself, he’d admit he was hoping Odette would come home from work before he left. That she’d show up and invite him to stay for dinner. Then one thing might lead to another, and… Damn it. She was a client. He couldn’t think of her that way. “Why are you still here?”
“I came in to see if you needed any help patrolling tonight. You’re on the first shift, right?”
Crap. After his run-in with the ghost and his strange feelings for Odette, he’d forgotten about his demon-patrol duties. Those little minions rarely showed up alone. “Yeah. Let me lock up, and I’ll meet you outside.”
Noah paused. “You don’t think she’s responsible for summoning them, do you?” He nodded to the altar. “I mean…”
“No.” He shook his head. “We were friends in school. I know her; she’s not like that.” At least, he didn’t think she was. Really, he didn’t know the woman at all. Being acquaintances in grade school didn’t count as much of a relationship, and based on the rumors he’d heard about her, she wasn’t the sad, scared little girl he remembered. His judgment was based on a feeling he had about her, but unless his wolf put all four paws on the train, it would be leaving the station empty.
“If she is responsible, we’ll find out soon enough.” James jerked his head toward the exit. “Let’s go patrol, and we can hit the club after.” With his wolf finally allowing him to notice another woman, maybe he could satiate his desires with someone other than Odette and forget all about his feelings for his client. That would prove his attraction to her was nothing more than the shallow desire of a man for a beautiful woman.
Shoving her key into the ignition, Odette leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. The cool leather seat pressed into the backs of her legs, and the air freshener stuck to the vent filled the car with the subtle scent of lavender.
Her secretary had fielded her calls, sending through the important ones, while Odette spent most of the workday locked in her office. She’d meditated, but it didn’t clear her mind. She’d hyper-focused on the marketing proposal for the upcoming line of white rums, but it didn’t distract her from the sinking feeling of dread hollowing out her stomach.
Her prayers to the Baron hadn’t been answered yet. Her met tet would know if James was the one who’d doom her to a horrific death, but Baron Samedi was either too busy to provide insight, or the question was too big for a simple prayer.
She ran her hand along the soft leather of the console and reached for the key again. Turning it, she started the car, the engine purring to life as she gripped the steering wheel and eased on the gas, exiting the parking garage. Driving along Tchoupitoulas Street, she took in the majestic view of the Mississippi River until she turned onto Poydras and headed into the Central Business District.
Breathing deeply, she tried to keep herself calm as she made a right and headed into the French Quarter to Mambo Voodoo, Natasha’s store that doubled as both a tourist shop and a temple. She parked on the curb and walked two blocks to reach the quiet shop. The woody, sweet scents of sandalwood and lotus greeted her as she opened the door, and the tension in her muscles eased. Something about this place always felt like coming home.
“Evening, Cybil.” She nodded to the vodouisant manning the cash register.
Cybil tucked a strand of deep-blue hair behind her ear. “Hi, Odette. Natasha’s in the back, waiting for you.”
She glanced at her watch. The emergency appointment she’d made with her Mambo was set for fifteen minutes ago, but she’d been so distracted that she’d left the office later than planned.
As she stepped through the first threshold, she swept her gaze across the plethora of altars lining the walls, and even more tension slipped from her shoulders. Vévés sewn into colorful cloths adorned the spaces set up to honor the loa. Various offerings from tourists and vodouisants alike lay about the altars: keys for Papa Legba, perfume bottles for Erzulie Freda, silver for Damballah, and of course rum and tobacco for Baron Samedi.
She stopped in front of her met tet’s altar and pulled a cigarette from her purse. Though she’d never smoked one herself, she always carried them to make offerings to the loa. “I could really use some help, Baron.” She laid the cigarette next to the skull and closed her eyes, opening her senses in hopes of receiving a message.
But the Baron seemed to be ignoring her. She sighed and shuffled to the back room.
Pushing aside the beaded curtain hanging in the doorway, she found Natasha sitting at her reading table, shuffling a deck of tarot cards. “Sorry I’m late.”
“I expected you would be. Sit.” The priestess set the cards on the table and folded her hands. “What’s so important, child?”
Odette settled in the chair across from her and swallowed the thickness from her throat. She’d had all day to mull over the fact that James might be the one, but saying it out loud, and possibly getting confirmation, had her stomach tied in knots. “I met someone today.”
“Oh?” Natasha arched an eyebrow. “Any someone or the someone?”
She let out a heavy breath. “I think it might be him. I hope it’s not, but there’s…something. I feel connected to him somehow, and I shouldn’t. I hardly know him; he works for my contractor.” She wrapped her arms around herself, clutching her elbows.
“It could be your libido talking. A capable man, who’s good with his hands, working on your house. Who wouldn’t find that attractive? You’ve been denying yourself any fun at all for years. Maybe you need to let loose. See where it goes.”
“No.” She straightened. “I feel this in my bones. Our destinies…our souls are entwined somehow, and if it’s because…” Closing her eyes for a long blink, she took a slow breath. “Please, will you do a reading for me? If i
t’s him, I have to make it stop.”
“If it’s him, I don’t think you can.” Pursing her lips, the Mambo gave her a sympathetic look. “All right. Let’s see if the Spirits will shed any light on it. What’s his name?” She slid the stack of cards toward Odette.
“James.” The edges of the weathered cards had smoothed from years of use, and a tingle of magic seeped into Odette’s fingers as she shuffled them. “James Malveaux.”
Natasha reached for the cards but paused, her hand hovering over the center of the table. “The werewolf?”
“Yes. I hired the alpha’s construction crew to do the renovations.” She slid the deck to the Mambo.
Natasha pressed her lips together and drummed her fingers on the cards.
“What aren’t you telling me?” The hollow sensation in her stomach expanded, taking in half her chest.
“Did he mention his readings?”
And there went the rest of her chest, sinking into oblivion. “No. Why? What have you read for him?” Werewolves rarely let their issues leak outside the pack. If James had come to a House of Voodoo for help, it must have been his last resort.
The priestess picked up the cards. “Let’s focus on you right now.” She turned over the cards, laying out ten in a Celtic cross spread, scrunching her brow, and lightly humming with each addition to the shape.
Tapping a finger on the top card of the deck, Natasha hesitated to turn it over. Odette gripped the sides of her chair, tensing as she waited for her to finish. The look on the priestess’s face and her reluctance to display the final card made Odette want to explode with anticipation. This was bad. She could feel it.
Natasha peeked at the final card and locked eyes with Odette. “Remember this card has many meanings, especially for you.”
A brick settled in Odette’s stomach. She didn’t need to look at the card to know what it was, but as she lowered her gaze to the table, a skeleton stared back at her. “Death.” Lacing her fingers together, she rested her head on her hands.
A Deal with Death Page 6
