La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust (21 page)

Luckily, Julia was a step ahead of the group
and able to get to the stairwell before the others, avoiding being
trapped behind a mass of panicky people.

Once inside her room, she was able to
distract herself with an episode of South Park and some Bugs Bunny
cartoons. She avoided the weather and news, and kept the volume on
the TV loud enough to drown out the howling winds. When the power
failed in the middle of one of Bugs' cross-dressing scenes and
didn't come back on, Julia was left alone with her thoughts.

She tried to pick up her book, but after
reading three pages and having no idea what they said, tossed it
aside. It didn't matter anyway. She had no interest in reading
about some fantasy vampire romance when she had her very own live
vampire waiting for her.

The notion that Armand truly was a vampire
was becoming easier to accept. In fact, it was beginning to feel
natural. It was apparent he meant her no harm, and after his
explanation of blood drinking and the relative safety of it, not
only was she no longer afraid of the prospect of him drinking from
her, she found the proposition erotic.

Sleeping would have been a great way to pass
the time, but all attempts to close her eyes were interrupted by
vivid memories of the previous evening. She could still taste
Armand's mouth against hers, smell his spicy scent, feel his firm
cock pressed into her hips as his body pinned her against the hotel
wall...

With a weary sigh, Julia buried her face in
her hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her elbows
resting on her knees. There was no way she was going to survive the
afternoon without going crazy. Her stomach was already knotted up
like last years Christmas lights, and she couldn't think of
anything except being with Armand again. She was eight-years-old,
tomorrow was Christmas morning, and Armand was the Barbie dream
house she'd been begging for all year.

Hours painfully crawled by as she wore a path
in the carpet with restless pacing. The relentless wind that howled
past the shuttered window only slowed time further. The storm
wasn't letting up, and it didn't seem like it was just skimming the
city either.

Julia glanced at her phone. She might not
have a cell signal, but it still kept time.

3:45.

She still had at least an hour and a half of
endless waiting. Propping a pillow against the headboard, Julia sat
on the bed with a thud, kicking her feet up and leaning back
against the plush cotton. Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her
mind of everything and just let darkness fill her skull.

It wasn't easy. Armand's image was
permanently burned into her retinas.

Pulling up everything she'd learned when
Clare drug her to a meditation class last year, Julia focused on
the steady in and out of her breath, and pushed away every thought
that strayed from that focus.

It took a few minutes, and she had to kick
Armand out more than once, but soon her mind quieted and the
tension oozed from her body. The steady pattering of rain and
whoosh of wind became a lullaby, lulling her into a trace-like
state. She was able to turn her focus further inward, until her
breath roared through her lungs and her heartbeat pounded against
her ears. In the hours she'd spent with Clare in that Buddhist
temple learning the art of meditating, she'd never been able to
truly let go and relax. It was oddly freeing to be so in touch with
and disconnected with her body at the same time.

* * *

When Julia woke up, the room was pitch-black.
Blinking wildly in the darkness, she jumped up, scrambling to find
her phone. She tried the lamp, but the power was still out. After
shoving everything on the end table that wasn't attached to the
floor aside, she finally palmed her phone. The backlit was dim and
she was almost out of battery, but the digital clock read 6:07.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit!

She fumbled around the room, bumping into the
desk and stubbing her toe. Knocking her purse over when she reached
for it, Julia felt around until she found her wallet, and then
bolted out of the dark room. If she hurried, she could probably get
to
Luxure
in less than 10 minutes.

Chapter Fifteen

"You can't go out there; it's still
storming," the concierge said when Julia headed for the front
door.

"Is the storm still bad?"

"It hasn't let up all afternoon and isn't
expected to until early morning. You need to get back to your room.
It isn't safe to be out and about."

Julia's stomach sank through the floor. She
had to see him. She couldn't wait twelve or even one more hour. Her
plane left early on Saturday and there simply wasn't enough time.
Even if she were with him now, it still wouldn't be enough.

She glanced at the door. Through the lead
glass windows she could see the deluge of rain falling in buckets
onto the soaked streets. The burgundy awning from the building
across the street had torn free and was whipping wildly in the
wind.

If the storm was still this violent, she
couldn't possibly go out in it. Could she?

One look at the concierge's stern expression
gave her the answer. The woman looked like she'd tackle Julia
before letting her walk out the door.

"Your door key won't work with the power
out," the concierge told her.

Julia's heart sank into the marble floor. She
couldn't go back to that room. Not now. Not when Armand was less
than a mile away.

"Let me get the master and I'll walk you back
up."

As soon as the other woman disappeared into
the back room, Julia saw a chance to escape.

To hell with the storm.
Luxure
wasn't
that far.

The front door was locked, but with a quick
turn of the deadbolt, she pulled the door open and slipped
outside.

The wind hit her like a freight train, and by
the time she rounded the corner onto Royal she was completely
soaked. The rain was a cold slap across her bare skin, the droplets
moving with such velocity that they stung when they hit her.

She pressed against the building, but the
wind still tore at her clothes, and a couple of strong gusts almost
took out her feet. Hunkering down, she put her shoulder into the
wind, turned her face away from it, and trudged laboriously down
the street.

* * *

About the fifth time the wind nearly knocked
her down, Julia briefly considered turning back, but the memory of
Armand's lips against her skin kept the fire burning under her
feet. There weren't enough days left as it was, she wasn't going to
miss one because of a little rain. Besides, at this point, she was
almost halfway there.

Or so she thought.
La Luxure
was near
the Square, but she didn't remember which street it was on, and
with the torrential downpour and driving winds, Julia couldn't make
out any of the familiar landmarks. The world was a gray blur, and
every time she paused to get her bearings, the rain slammed against
her face and she had to tuck her chin to her chest to avoid the
assault.

Fighting through the storm, Julia continued
down the street, desperately trying to recognize something,
anything. It was pointless. She could barely see the buildings next
to her, let alone something in the distance like the St. Louis
Cathedral spires.

Without a map, she had no idea how to get to
Luxure
.

An alarm squealed helplessly from an
abandoned vehicle, and loose shutters banged from several locations
in unison like some kind of hurricane drum band. Water splashed at
her ankles, rising from a river that started in the gutters and
spilled over the sidewalk.

Unable to see anything that looked remotely
familiar, Julia turned at the next street, keeping her fingers
crossed. She reached Bourbon St. without spotting
Luxure's
tiny entrance. Of course with the chaos around her, she might have
walked right past it.

Which way should she turn? It felt like she'd
been walking forever, but she was also moving at a turtle's pace.
On the off chance she'd gone too far, Julia turned left. She
spotted The Cell, and was pretty sure it was between
Luxure
and her hotel, so she turned left again on Royal, and continued to
push through the blanket of rain.

It couldn't be far. It
couldn't
be.

* * *

Armand set down his laptop with an
exasperated sigh. He was usually able to exercise patience and
considered it to be one of his strengths, but tonight, he was
finding the task grueling. He was so distracted, he'd nearly pulled
a muscle during his earlier workout, and now, the numbers in his
spreadsheet had this annoying habit of blurring together.

The storm was still raging furiously outside
and didn't sound like it would be letting up any time soon. It was
barely after six, and judging from the sound of the wind and rain
pounding against the shutters, it might be midnight at the earliest
before there was a break. He didn't know if he could wait that long
to see Julia again. It had been hard enough walking away from her
last night, and his dreams had been crowded with her image.

He wondered how she was doing. She'd been so
nervous about the storm, and his pathetic reassurances had been so
weak. If he could just talk to her, make sure she was well...

There was a landline in the bar.

He stood up with a jerk. The power might be
out, but the phone was usually the last thing to go. Grabbing one
of the many candles lighting his apartment, Armand jogged down the
interior stairwell, and emerged in a small, somewhat cramped
storeroom. Boxes of beer, wine and liquor were neatly stacked
against the wall, and the locked refrigerator that housed small
quantities of bagged blood was a massive, dark shadow in the
corner. Collected from private, safe donors, the blood was reserved
for those members of the Community who didn't care to
drink
from the source.

He set the candle on the bar. The soft,
golden glow of the flame flickered across the liquor bottles, and
danced with its reflection in the mirror. It added so much to the
ambience of the place that if it wasn't such a fire hazard, he'd
love to light the bar with nothing but candlelight.

Retrieving a phone book from beneath the cash
register, Armand slid it close to the candle and thumbed through
the pages. He located the number and picked up the phone, thankful
for the dial tone on the other end. He was even more thankful when
a gruff voice answered.

"Conti Royal."

"Hi, yes, my name is Armand Laroque. I have a
strange request. I'm looking for a guest, but I only know her first
name."

"Do you know what room she's in?"

"I'm afraid not. We met earlier this week
and, well, I just want to make sure she's doing alright."

"I'd love to help sir, but our phone service
is down, and I've run the battery out on my laptop."

"I understand. Would it be possible to leave
a note for her? We were supposed to meet tonight, but I want to
make sure she waits there and I'll come get her when the weather
breaks."

"Sure. What's her first name?"

"Julia. She's been there all week if that
will help you track her down."

"Julia," the gruff voice on the receiving end
of the phone repeated. "Wait, what does your girl look like?"

"Late twenties, long dark hair,
slender..."

"I'm pretty sure she was just down here."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she was trying to leave and I told her
not to. I went to get the master key to let her back into her room,
and when I got back she was gone and the front door was unlocked. I
think she left."

Armand's stomach twisted into a huge knot.
Julia couldn't be out in the storm, it was too dangerous. "Thank
you ma'am," he managed. "You've been most helpful."

Hanging up the phone, Armand blew out the
candle and dashed through the storeroom and up the dark stairs on
memory. His night vision might be excellent, but even it couldn't
penetrate the pitch-blackness that enveloped the building.

He paused only long enough to grab his trench
coat before yanking open the door and bracing himself against the
rush of wind that slammed against him.

* * *

Julia was beginning to grow hopeless. She was
utterly lost. Not only did she not know where
Luxure
was,
she had no idea where
she
was. Even finding her hotel was an
impossible task at this point. She was wandering in circles,
weaving aimlessly through the French Quarter streets, lost in its
maze-like similarity. She didn't even have a plan of escape. What
street signs that still stood on their metal pillars called out
names she didn't recognize.

Finally, exhausted, freezing, and soaked in
places not designed to see water, she sat on a covered stoop where
the adjacent building offered a tiny amount of protection from the
wind. The rain still managed to blow in from impossible directions,
but her drenched body barely noticed.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Julia
pressed her face into the wet fabric, and squeezed as close to the
building wall as possible. She could probably wait out the storm
here with minimal damage, maybe a little hypothermia or pneumonia,
but nothing a trip to the ER wouldn't cure.

It would all be worth it if she could just
manage to find Armand. As ridiculous as that statement sounded as
it rang in her ears, she knew it was true. She'd happily take a few
days in the hospital to expand on what she'd barely experienced the
night before.

God, if she could just get to him. He'd left
an ache in her that only his touch could ease. She was ready to
turn her body over to him, eager to sate every one of his desires,
no matter how dark they ran. She wondered if this is what the
fortune teller saw in his cards when he predicted her decent into
evil.