Mating Fever (3 page)

Jessica swallowed. Hard. She felt dazed and
not herself, and her pulse still raced with something akin to heat.
The loss of control unnerved her. “My necklace?” she managed to say
past her throbbing lips. She held out her hand, palm up, encouraged
by her ability not to melt in a puddle on the ground at his
feet.

He gave her an unreadable look and dropped
the necklace into her hand, closing her fingers over it. “It’s
broken. You’ll need t’fix it,” he said, releasing her hand.

She resisted the urge to rub where he’d
touched her. She felt positively branded all over. By the way he
was acting, it seemed to be just her reacting so heatedly to the
kiss--which was infinitely embarrassing to say the least. Jessica
looked down at the broken chain. “Yes, it is.” But she’d already
known that. The thief had ripped it from her neck.

“It’s not somtin’ you wanna wait
on,
chere
.”

Jessica looked up, distracted from her
unwanted physical response by the intriguing tone of his voice.
There was warning there. And something else she couldn’t quite
identify. “What do you mean?”

“Jus’ what I said. There’s a shop jus’ a ways
from the corner of Bourbon and Canal--Mikel’s. They can fix it for
you there. You wan’ me t’show you?” He grinned in the half light,
his teeth flashing white and sharp against his bronzed skin.

“Thanks. I can find it on my own.” She hadn’t
noticed any shops on her way down here--mostly just hotels and the
like. A few bars. Her own hotel was on Canal Street.

He frowned, eyeing her thoughtfully.
“You’re not gonna go, are you,
chere
?”

Whether she did or not wasn’t any of his
business. She shrugged noncommittally.

“Jus’ remember what I tol’ you.”

His advice brought the warning her
adoptive parents had given her fresh into her mind.
Never take this off. Never.
She knew
her neck was ringed with paler skin, the chain having long rested
around it ... for as long as she could remember. She half wondered
if he knew something she didn’t, but she shrugged the silly thought
off. He didn’t know her or anything about her. She’d gotten
paranoid since coming to New Orleans.

Jessica turned to go, then stopped. “What’s
your name?” she asked, glancing back at him over her shoulder.

He smiled lazily, propping one shoulder
against the building in confident male fashion. “Gabriel
Benoit,
petite
. At your
service.”

“Nice to ... uh ... meet you,” she murmured
and turned away before he could see her blush again ... or draw her
into further conversation. She put his disturbing presence and even
more disturbing kiss out of her mind.

She wasn’t here to get involved with
any man, especially not one like him. She knew the type--players.
Always charming, good looking, and absolutely horrible on a woman’s
self-esteem when they left and chased after the next piece of ass.
She wasn’t going to be any man’s conquest. Not that Jessica had
ever fallen for a player, but she damned well knew
now
why women did.

She still felt hot and bothered as she set
off for her hotel. She glanced back to see if he followed--not
because she wanted one last look at temptation incarnate--but he
wasn’t to be seen. She quickly lost sight of the small alley as she
made her way toward Canal Street and left the revelers behind.

She’d thought it strange how the further she
walked, the deader the area became. Soon the only sounds on the
street were the hum of car engines, the wind, and her own
footsteps. It was a long walk back to her hotel, and she was
contemplating finding and catching a cab when she noticed the
obscure shop Gabriel had spoken of.

It was practically invisible, overshadowed by
the giants around it, but the shuttered, double doors were thrown
open to let a cool breeze inside. Obviously, they were open, even
at this late hour. Jessica approached it, and the jangling music of
wind chimes grew louder as she neared. A man was inside, sweeping
the rugs covering the tiled floor. He looked up as she passed
through the door.

“Are you closing up?” she asked, stopping
inside the threshold.

“Not just yet,” he said, setting his broom
aside. “What can I do for you?”

Jessica held up her necklace, looking around
and feeling like she’d been duped. The shop didn’t look like a
jewelry repair place. “Someone mentioned I could get this fixed
here,” she said with a doubtful tone to her voice.

He took it from her and gave her a startled
look, quickly shuttered. “Yep. I’ll get this fixed for you in a
jiffy. Have a look around. I’ll be right back.”

Jessica nodded and watched him go through a
door into the back, then wandered around the cluttered shop. There
were racks of charms and potions on one side, including a row
dedicated to nothing but essence of garlic of varying sizes and
potencies. Weapons lined the walls out of reach near the ceiling:
crossbows, long bows, swords, and arrows with silver and wooden
heads. There were others she couldn’t identify, but that looked
almost like medieval maces.

Jessica continued looking and found an
umbrella holder filled with short wooden stakes and another with
mallets. It looked for all the world like some bizarre, witch
hunting shop ... or rather, one dedicated to vampire hunting. The
movie Blade popped in her head. Really, being Louisiana, she
would’ve thought they’d have more voodoo paraphernalia for the
tourists to buy.

The man came out again, moving behind the
front counter. He laid her necklace on the clean surface. “That’s a
fine warding medallion you have. Been a while since I’ve seen one
so old.”

“Warding medallion?” she asked, walking up to
the counter to check the work. She couldn’t even tell it had ever
been broken.

“Yes. Well, it’s an old, cryptic language.
Most people wouldn’t recognize it. See these markings here?” He
flipped it over and showed her a scrawling script. She’d always
thought it was some kind of ornate design--not words. “It’s
protection against the wolf.”

Jessica was intrigued. She leaned on the
counter, looking between him and her medallion. “What kind of
protection?”

“It depends on the wearer really. Now, if you
were a vampire, it would ward werewolves away ... supposedly.”

Jessica laughed. He wasn’t serious. “Okay,
you got me. There’s no such thing as vampires and werewolves.”

He chuckled, watching as she put the necklace
on. “I’m not joking around. I would’ve thought you’d heard of the
war by now.”

“What war? Does it have something to do with
all this stuff in here?” she asked, waving an expansive arm,
playing along.

He propped an elbow on the register. “Of
course. I’m just a supplier, mind you. I don’t take part, but I’m
partial to the Lycan side of things.”

“Why’s that? I mean, I don’t see why vampires
and Lycans would fight. Lycans are werewolves, right?”

“That’s right. Lycanthropes.” He rubbed his
jaw, considering it. “It must’ve been in the early part of this
past century. The Lycans rebelled against the vamps using them as
food and slaves ... but they mostly objected to being eaten, and
still do. Must’ve been a sight to see them tearing into the
vamps--if you were on the inside, that is. I’ve always been partial
to the underdog, so I supply them when they come in.”

Jessica was completely unnerved and
fascinated by his story. She didn’t doubt but what there were
plenty of nuts running around claiming to be a werewolf or a
vampire. Given the turn of movies and television, she’d known of
plenty of people who were fascinated by the subject matter.

She guessed anyone had a right to make a
living selling to them. “So is this war still going on?” she asked,
amused by the old man but trying not to show it.

“It flares up every now and again, but they
usually stick to their territory. Just stay clear of anything
Southwest of the Ponchartrain Expressway. Oh. And especially the
warehouse and Garden district.”

Jessica nodded, humoring him. She was going
somewhere around there to check out the cemetery where her birth
parents had been buried--at least that’s what she’d managed to dig
up about them.

“Mmmhmmm. How much do I owe you for the
repair?”

“Ten dollars,” he said.

Jessica paid him and turned to leave, but he
stopped her with one last warning.

“You’ll remember what I said, right? I can
tell you’re not from around here and don’t know about the
territories just yet. I wouldn’t want you to have a run in with
those bloodsuckers. There’s only so much protection that warding
medallion will give you.”

Chapter Two

Gabriel stood in the shadow of a doorway,
watching as Jessica left the shop and walked up the street,
completely unaware of his presence. Her senses were too dulled from
human living, but he could change that. And he would. Even with the
distance, he sensed the necklace about her throat. He was grateful
she’d heeded his advice and gotten the chain fixed. A warding
medallion was no real worry to him, but he hoped its power would
keep the others from sensing her presence in the city a while
longer. He’d staked his claim with that kiss, but there were too
many to challenge him.

Given what she was, he had little doubt she
would be allowed to choose a mate, and better him than another. The
fact that he had little remorse for his action proved just how
Lycan he’d grown, but it mattered not.

He waited until she’d gained some distance on
him before pushing away from the door jam, following her, keeping
her within sight. The streets here were empty of other pedestrians.
He couldn’t smell Lycans or Vamps nearby, but that didn’t mean they
weren’t out there, prowling the streets. Still, he was satisfied
they were relatively alone.

He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, rubbing
his fingers on the rough denim. They still burned from holding the
chain, but no more than the studs in his nipples. If anything, it
served as reminder of the kiss he’d taken.

His cock tightened at that thought, and the
sight of her hips swaying gently as she walked only worsened the
sweet pain. He smiled darkly. She remained oblivious to the fact
that he followed her. But wasn’t that how he wanted it? She was
blissfully innocent, and he knew the inevitable warning Mikel had
given her had fallen on disbelieving ears.

She’d become a believer soon enough. It was
amazing how quickly a person could change their mind when
confronted by living, breathing evidence. Seeing with her own eyes
would banish that last, clinging ignorance.

Now that she was here, the warding power of
the medallion would grow weaker and weaker, until it lost its power
completely amongst the overwhelming presence of his brethren.

Gabriel almost regretted what she’d go
through. But she should not have come to New Orleans. Now that she
was here, he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of seducing
her. The subtle nuances of her nervous desire excited him
immeasurably: the breathless sigh, the pulse in her throat, the
fight against her own base appetites that mirrored his own. He
could still taste her on his tongue, feel the rounded firmness of
her ass in his palms. His groin felt imprinted by the cloaked heat
of her femininity and the moistness of her desire dampening his
jeans.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling so
frustrated in all his life. He wondered if fucking both their
brains out would satisfy the lust boiling his blood, or if it would
only worsen, make him insane with lust. He wondered if it was worth
the risk in tempting the beast. Could any woman be worth so
much?

She stopped suddenly on the sidewalk. Gabriel
ducked into a doorway, waiting to see what she would do. He watched
her indecisive profile, as she crossed and uncrossed her arms,
kicked at a ball of trash on the pavement. Finally, she made up her
mind and moved forward and into a local bar that was more empty
that it was full.

This end of the city was for serious
drinkers, not the tourists. She didn’t belong down here.

But apparently, she wasn’t ready to give up
the night just yet.

He grinned and trotted up the sidewalk. Just
his kind of girl. He liked a woman who didn’t know when to
quit.

But she didn’t need to be out too late. He
couldn’t sense any danger, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t out
there. He wanted to make sure she got to her room okay.

He chuckled, thinking of a few ways to wear
her out and entertain her if she was feeling restless.

Gabriel waited a few minutes before
sauntering through the door. Inside was darker than out, almost
smoky-like. A live band took up a space on a far, center wall, and
most of the light and noise came from there and the dance floor.
Looking around the hazy space, he saw mostly locals mixed with a
few tourists, probably from the nearby hotels. Their scent gave
them away--they were missing that certain spice that only natives
had to them, not like his Jessica though. She was a force unto
herself.