Expiez: Redeem Your Blood Lust (11 page)

Chapter Ten

Her sleeping pills weren't doing jack shit, and all Clare did was toss and turn all night. Snippets from the past flashed relentlessly in and out of her brain. It wasn't a specific memory, but a series of memories strung together to form a movie of every mistake she'd ever made. The last conversation she'd had with her mother before she died, when Clare told her—in typical teenaged fashion—how she was ruining her life. The frat party she'd attended as a freshman where she'd gotten arrested for Minor in Possession. The first argument she'd had with Chris where the signs he was going to turn abusive were there and she ignored them.

It was like her brain was trying to remind her what an idiot she'd been over the years. She really wanted to tell it to fuck off.

And of course, swimming in the middle was her meltdown over Darus' jealousy. She couldn't quite figure that one out. Shouldn't she be happy she got away from him before he turned into another Chris? Shouldn't that decision go in the "win" column?

She finally gave up on the shut-eye around nine a.m., dragging her corpse-like body out of bed and dropping it into the shower. She stayed there until her hands and feet were prunes and she was afraid if any more purple went down the drain, her hair would be some weird bluish-lavender color.

The day passed quickly enough. A walk for coffee, a visit to Nikki's studio, several hours helping get the garage gallery in order...before she knew it, someone was ringing the dinner bell. And by dinner bell, she meant her phone.

"I want to call a truce," Julia said. "And to apologize."

"I'm listening."

"Why don't we do it over some food? How does a juicy pile of meat sound?"

"Why, Jules, what a personal question."

"I mean for dinner."

"And dessert."

"I'm serious."

"Let me guess: Armand is busy."

"He has a business meeting of some sort—I really am okay with the vegetarianism, by the way."

"So much so you're soliciting me to devour innocent animal flesh with you?"

"I was thinking barbeque," Julia said sheepishly. "Are cows and pigs really so innocent?"

"Devils, every one of them. I'm in."

"Great. There's a place in the Warehouse District that's pretty decent. I mean, it's not St. Louis or Kansas City—"

"—but it is animal flesh," Clare finished for her.

"Exactly. So, I'll swing by and pick you up…?"

"On your scooter?" Julia had traded her car in for a Vespa when she moved south.

"Will that embarrass you?"

Clare might not be able to see her face, but she could tell Julia was grinning like a damn fool.

"Bring it! Don't be surprised if I scream like a bitch as we race down the street at a speedy twenty miles per hour."

"We'll be lucky to break fifteen. I'll see you in five."

The restaurant was small and hole-in-the-wall-ish enough to be considered a respectable barbeque joint. The beers were cold, the table
cloths
plastic, and every chair had at least one rip in its vinyl seat. A few minutes after sitting, there were two pulled pork sandwiches and a huge pile of fries on the table.

Clare was glad her fingers weren't anywhere near Julia's sandwich as she lunged for it. "You're okay with the vegetarianism?" she asked as Julia took a huge bite and sauce dribbled down her chin.

"Yeph."

Clare raised her eyebrows. "The bloody evidence all over your face says otherwise."

Julia took a few more bites before she finally set down the sandwich and grabbed a napkin. "I'm fine with it." She dabbed at the rivers of sauce running from both corners of her mouth. "Really." She gave Clare a hard look. "It's just, I don't get the opportunity much, and well, animals are really tasty." She took another bite.

"Fine. I'll quit giving you shit."

"Hank-oo." After a few dedicated chews, a large swallow of beer, another pass with her napkin, Julia folded her hands neatly on the table and leveled her gaze on Clare—who suddenly felt like a kid about to get scolded for putting her elbows on the table.

Which she promptly removed.

"Armand said something to me last night that got me thinking."

"Uh oh."

"No, it's a good thing. I guess. You know, when I came back from New Orleans last year, I was convinced Armand was a lying, scheming creep."

"I remember."

"Well, what if you'd been as opposed to him and his lifestyle as I had initially been? What if you'd sided with me? If you hadn't encouraged me to let go of my prejudice, to accept him for him, I might not be here today. I might still be miserable and dating
Jeffs
in St. Louis."

"Maybe. I appreciate the 'thank you', but you thanked me profusely the next day if I remember correctly. Right after I noted you were walking funny." Julia just grinned and took a drink of beer. "What are you trying to say, sis?"

"I'm done with the Darus bashing. And I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time about it. I still think he's the worst possible choice, but if you want to," she grimaced, "be with—"

"No worries," Clare said, cutting her off. "It's not going to happen. Your reasons for hating him might be wrong, but my reasons for not wanting to be with him are not. I saw the signs. I ignored them with Chris. I'm not going to ignore them this time. I can't do jealous. I can't do possessive. I was with Darus one night and his giant green monster came out. And I'm not talking about his man meat."

"Jesus!" Julia nearly choked on her beer. "God…I keep forgetting you slept with him." Her expression turned both wicked and somehow apprehensive at the same time. "What's he like in bed?"

"Really fucking good. He has a huge cock. Like, Black Mamba dildo huge."

Simultaneously they both burst out laughing and continued laughing until tears streamed down their faces and Clare could barely breathe. People in the restaurant turned to stare at them.

"Look," Julia said after a few minutes and her giggles started tapering off. She wiped at the tear stained makeup under her eyes. "I know you know my stance on Darus, giant dick or not." She choked on a giggle. "So I won't keep beating that dead horse." Another giggle swallowed.

Clare half expected someone to yell, "Giggity."

"But you've been through a lot," Julia continued, twisting her face into a serious expression. "First just Chris in general, and then him showing up here... It's no wonder you freaked out last night. And rightfully so. But it'll get better, I'm sure of it. I know I've been weird about stuff and I'm sorry. I don't want you to think I don't, or won't, support you. I will. No matter what. Darus is the wrong guy, though. I just worry..."

Clare leaned over and embraced her sister. "I know," she whispered.

Now they were both crying. First a giggle fest now tears... Weren't they a couple of bipolar bitches. The other restaurant patrons probably thought they were crazy.

Knowing she had Julia's support made her feel better, even optimistic, like everything would work out. Or if it didn't, it didn't matter because they had each other and that was what really mattered.

"You don't have to worry about Darus, though," Clare said as she pulled back. "Really. I'm 100% done with him. Jealousy and I do not mix."

"Good. Can't say I'm disappointed."

"I didn't think you would be." For some reason her smile felt forced.

But she wasn't going to cave this time. She'd done it every time with Chris. Every time he'd gotten drunk and punched the wall. Every time he'd screamed at her, belittled her. Every broken dish, every innocent drive-by when she was having drinks at a friend's houses, every screened call… She'd convinced herself he didn't mean it, it would get better, things would change.

And everyone knew how that story ended.

So no matter how much she wanted to pretend Darus' jealously was a brief lapse in judgment, that it didn't mean he'd eventually turn into a controlling, possessive prick, she was not going to let herself be fooled. What did President Bush number two say? "Fool me once, shame on…shame on you. Fool me, you can't get fooled again."

With a smile that wasn't so forced, she raised her glass in a silent toast that Julia happily met. Bush might not have gotten the saying right, but he'd certainly gotten the sentiment right. She wasn't getting fooled again.

Chapter Eleven

Ignoring Darus, or the emotions he stirred in her, wasn't as easy as she'd hoped. For the first few days she was able to avoid him. Physically at least. He was on her mind a lot.

Thankfully, she was able to stay busy. The gallery itself took a lot of time. Kate was prepping for a Friday opening and even though it was over a week away, they still had a shit-ton of work to do. She also started work at Nikki's studio. Mostly just design work and receptionist duty, but she began training with the gun, practicing basic designs on honeydew melons. She gave one melon a really horrible unicorn tattoo, but otherwise, working with the tattoo gun didn't seem so different from a pencil.

She saw Darus a couple of times in the evening, always coming into
Luxure
. She quickly learned to avoid the bar completely—a pain since it was the cheapest place to get a cocktail. Free.

But she wasn't ready to deal with him, especially since seeing him in the flesh made her doubt her decision to
not
be with him. It would remind her how great their night together had been, and how much potential there had been in those few hours. Before he ruined it with his jealous rant.

Whenever they crossed paths, she'd smile courteously, wave, and promptly blow out of the room. It worked a few times, until she ran into him on the street outside the bar.

It was still pretty early, so she hadn't expected to bump into him as he rounded the corner. Unless she just rudely turned around and fled, there was nowhere to go, no easy, polite way to escape.

"Hey," she said, aware she sounded painfully uncomfortable.

He held up his hands. "Please don't run away."

She laughed, but realized she sounded like someone was giving her a rectal exam and she was trying to make light of it—like when the Gyno made awkward conversation with you while their hand was shoved up your hoo-haw.

"Who's running?"

"You are. Or you have been all week. Can't we talk about this?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"At least let me explain..."

"Look, it's no big deal. We're incompatible, end of story."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"Maybe I'm not compatible with you..."

"Also bullshit. If you'd just give me a chance—"

If he kept looking at her with those beautiful, pleading puppy dog eyes, she was going to crack. "No," she said firmly. "I'm done with second chances."

It took her brain demanding with every electron in its combined synapses to command her feet to respond, but she successfully turned around and walked the opposite direction.

There was a part of her that did a happy dance for her strength of resolve, but that part was small compared the chasm forming in her gut. It didn't matter. She wasn't changing her mind. She was going to go grab a bite to eat as planned and nothing, not her aching heart, or the persistent voice in her head telling her she was throwing away something potentially phenomenal. After all, she'd won, right?

* * * *

Darus wanted to chase Clare down, to beg her to forgive him, to at least consider his apology, but knew that would only push her further away. This could all have been prevented if he'd just kept his stupid mouth shut. If he'd been smart enough to let her have whatever she needed—including her freedom. To offer his support instead of his insecurity.

Well, he couldn't do shit about that now. He probably couldn't do shit about it ever, which blew giant goat dick.

He
could
do what he'd trekked down here to do, to take care of his Craving. Since he'd suddenly lost his taste for Dolls,
Luxure's
services were the only way to meet his needs.

And as bad luck would have it, Julia Laroque was the only other warm body in the bar. The gray cat lounging on a barstool didn't count.

She didn't seem any happier to see him than he her.

"Where's Slade?"

"Not here."

He tried to swallow his irritation. It didn't work. "Obviously. I'm just asking…"

"He's doing some art thing with Kate," Julia snapped back, cutting him off.

That's right, Slade was a painter. And apparently a pretty damn good one from what he'd heard.

"You're welcome to come back later when he's here," Julia added.

"You know, I really don't need your stink eye. I just need a shot."

"Fine. You have a
type
?"

Her emphasis on the word, type, wasn't lost on him. It all went back to him calling her by her blood type. What was really sad was at the time he was flirting. A ridiculous thought now…

"Look, I don't want to be your enemy. I'm tired of it. What do I need to do to end this feud?"

"There's nothing you can do." She disappeared through the velvet curtains.

With a sigh, Darus sat on the barstool next to the cat, which looked at him expectantly. Reaching down, he scratched the animal between its ears. A loud purr immediately erupted from it, and it pushed its head into his hand.

He smiled. Cats were such unashamed attention whores. If only humans could be so accepting of their needs and desires.

He continued to pet the cat wherever it directed until Julia returned with a glass of blood. "Hope you don't mind a little A positive." Her tone told him she didn't give a shit whether he minded of not.

A dozen snarky retorts got shoved to the back of this throat as he uttered a tight, "It's perfect. Thank you," and took the glass from her.

The blood helped calm his brain. At least a little. "Really, Julia, I do want to end this… animosity between us."

"Why? So you can fuck my sister?"

Okay. That was unexpected. He swallowed snarky retort number thirteen. "Um…"

"What am I supposed to forgive anyway? That you took a great deal of pleasure torturing me? That you killed a woman?"

"Forget it." He shoved the glass toward her and his ass out of the stool, the rising rage making his muscles tight and spastic.

There was no way he was going to keep snarky retort number fourteen from spewing out of his pie-hole unless he got the fuck out of there, and he couldn't get out fast enough. If he stayed even a second later he was only going make things worse than they were—if that were possible.

There was only one place he knew to go. One place he'd be welcome, where he wouldn't be judged… The one woman—if he couldn't go to Clare—who would empathize with his plight.

* * * *

Clare had walked four blocks before she realized she was going the wrong direction. She started to head the right way, got halfway there and realized she wasn't remotely hungry anymore.

All she could think about, all she could focus on, was what Darus might have to say. How was he going to talk his way out of his jealous comments? What bullshit excuse would he come up with?

She had to hear it. She had to know what possessed him to suddenly get so...possessive. Suddenly she realized she was pissed. He'd royally pissed her off with his jealous act. Before that crap, everything had been so damned amazing. They connected on so many levels, for him to fuck it up with jealousy? She wanted to rip him a new one for that.

When she'd run into him on the street earlier, he was obviously on his way to
Luxure
. She returned to the bar. Unfortunately, only her sister and a couple "closet vamps", as Armand liked to call them, were there.

Julia gave her a strange look. "I thought you were getting dinner."

"I lost my appetite."

"Oh..."

She gave the bar another once over, like he might be hiding in a back corner table. The closet vamps fidgeted uncomfortably on their stools.

"Are you looking for someone?"

"No." But she glanced toward the bathroom as she said it. Maybe we was just taking a leak...

Julia looked at her folded hands on the bar and twiddled her thumbs a few times. "He was here," she said quietly, lifting her gaze. "Darus."

"Why do you think I'm here for Darus?" Why was she getting so defensive?

"Um..."

"Okay fine, yes, I came here looking for Darus."

"He left."

"Where did he go?" Julia gave her a hard look. "Of course. Why would you know."

"Clare—"

"Okay, I'll see you later," she said, cutting Julia off. Feeling awkward and strangely unwelcome, she turned and headed outside.

She had no idea where Darus might be. Well, she had a couple, but the last thing she wanted was to search a dozen French Quarter bars for him like a crazy jealous lover. Instead she decided to do the proper thing and stalk him at his house.

They'd never gotten to the
exchange numbers
part of their whacked out relationship, so she couldn't even call him. It was okay; what she wanted to say needed to be said in person.

Luckily, she managed to remember where he lived, and within a few moments was yanking open the gate leading to his back courtyard. She didn't waste time knocking on the shutters locked tight around his front door. It was doubtful any sound could penetrate the layers of wood and glass.

She also assumed the gate being unlocked meant Darus was home. She didn't realize how wrong she was until she rounded the corner and ran right into a tall, thin man with waist length, straight black hair.