The Satyr's Curse (The Satyr's Curse Series Book 1) (8 page)

Julian sighed beside her. “Ah, yes, Odette.”

“You’ve heard of her?”

Julian kept his eyes on his home. “The story goes she was promised to a wealthy merchant’s son, but the man was terribly foolish and only interested in drinking and chasing women. He treated Odette very badly. Overcome with shame, she hung herself in the gardens behind your home.” Julian paused and his features darkened. “Her betrothed was said to be cursed by Odette’s nursemaid, a slave named Eve. She was skilled in voodoo, and cast a spell on Odette’s fiancé, damning him to a life of misery.”

Jazzmyn, intrigued by the tale, rested her head against the gate and peered over at Julian. “How do you know this story?”

He shrugged his wide shoulders. “Odette’s betrothed lived a life of misery, here in this house.” He nodded to his home. “He was my ancestor, Julian Philippe Devereau. He built the house after Odette’s death and lived in it all alone until he died.”

Jazzmyn gaped at Julian in disbelief. “You mean our ancestors were engaged to each other?”

Julian frowned slightly and shook his head. “Yes, but it ended badly for them. Perhaps we can make amends and set it right between our families.”

“I never heard this story about Odette. In fact, no one in my family ever spoke about what happened to her. I only know about her because her portrait hangs in my living room. My father told me that I was the first girl born into the Livaudais family since Odette.”

“That was said to be part of the curse, as well,” Julian disclosed.

“The curse? You mean the nursemaid’s curse on your relative?”

Julian placed his hands behind his back. “Both families were cursed by Eve. My namesake was cursed to a life of misery, and your family was cursed to never suffer another daughter until the time of reckoning.”

“The time of reckoning? What’s that?”

Julian remained quiet for a moment. “The time when the curse is to be lifted,” he finally told her in a somber tone.

“Sounds like a bad Hollywood movie to me,” Jazzmyn commented with a slight snort. “Voodoo curses, family melodrama…next you’ll be telling me there’s a ghost floating around somewhere in my attic.”

“There are no ghosts in this tale, I assure you.”

Jazzmyn looked up at the imposing mansion. “Are you going to show me the house that your cursed relative built?”

Julian noticed the setting sun in the western sky and shook his head. “I think I’ll save that for another evening. On our next date, I will have dinner prepared for us here, and then show you my home.” He gazed at her profile. “For now, we should be getting you back to your restaurant.”

Jazzmyn reached for the gold Rolex on his wrist and checked the time. Her heart heaved with regret that their day had come to an end, but she needed to get back. Kyle could only be trusted for so long before all hell broke loose.

“Yes, I need to be there for the dinner rush,” she agreed. She glanced once more to the house. “But I do want to come back and see your home.”

He put his arm around her shoulders. “Next time, I promise, my Jazzmyn,” he whispered against her cheek. “Next time I shall show you everything.”

***

As Julian escorted Jazzmyn up the walkway to her home, a giddy wave of apprehension came over her. Was he going to kiss her good-bye? Should she invite him in and kiss him away from the prying eyes of her neighbors? Like a nervous teenager Jazzmyn ran the scenarios through her head as her large front doors loomed before her.

“When do you think you can get away from the restaurant again for an evening?” he asked as he held on to her hand.

“We are usually pretty slow on Wednesdays,” she said as they climbed the porch steps one by one.

“Then Wednesday night I will come at six to collect you and bring you to my house for dinner. How does that sound?”

Jazzmyn stopped and pulled her keys from her purse. “I would like that, Julian.” She put the key in the lock and then pushed her front doors open. “Would you like to come in?”

Julian pivoted his eyes from the doors to Jazzmyn. “I’d better not,” he answered, shaking his head. “I’m afraid if I come in you might never get to the restaurant this evening.”

Jazzmyn’s round cheeks were consumed by a bashful flush. “Julian, I’m not—”

He took a step toward her. “I can feel your apprehension, and do not worry. When you are ready, Jazzmyn, then and only then will we be together. It is for you to determine the right moment, not me.” He trailed his long finger along the curve of her jaw. “I can wait. I am a very patient man.” His finger came to rest under her chin and he gently tilted her head upward. “Until Wednesday,” he stated and then slowly backed away from her.

Jazzmyn watched, a little mystified, as Julian turned, jogged down her steps, and confidently strolled to his waiting Maserati.

Jazzmyn hurried inside her home, and when she had secured her front doors, she pressed her forehead against the cool leaded glass, trying to quench the flurry of desire burning her cheeks.

“Damn, damn, damn! I have got to get a grip.” She pushed her body away from the front doors. “Enough of this silliness, Jazzmyn. It’s time to get back to the real world.”

Chapter 8

An hour after closing the restaurant, Jazzmyn was seated in her cubbyhole of an office going through the nightly receipts when Kyle came bounding through her open door.

“So how was he?” he asked as he leaned his hip against her small desk, causing it to move slightly and making the pile of receipts she had been adding up scatter.

Jazzmyn glared up at him. “How was who?”

Kyle rolled his impatient blue eyes at her. “You know who. The wino? Did you sleep with him, or just shove your tongue down his throat for a good night kiss?”

“Jesus, Kyle. Would you not be so crude? For your information, I did not sleep with him.”

“Not yet. But we both know you want to.” He nudged her with his hand. “So, what kind of kisser was he; the soft and mushy kind or the wet and sloppy kind?”

“Are you drunk?”

He shook his head. “No. Why, should I be?”

“I thought you hated my seeing Julian. So why are you pumping me for information about our date?”

Kyle looked over the business cards tacked to the bulletin board on the far wall. “I figure you need to get this guy out of your system. Maybe after a date or two you’ll realize that he’s all wrong for you, and then….”

“Then what?”

Kyle dropped his eyes to her and grinned. “You’ll run him off. Just like you ran Doug the UPS guy off.”

“I didn’t run Doug off.” She shifted her attention to the disarray of invoices on her desk. “We just found out we didn’t have that much in common.”

“It only took you one date to figure that out. Might take two for you to realize the wino is an asshole.”

She pushed him away from her desk. “You’re impossible. Go home.”

“I can’t. I have to wait for you to finish, so I can drive you home.”

“Oh, now you want to take me home? You haven’t wanted to do that since the other night with Julian.” She sat back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest. “All right. What is it? What did you break today?”

He threw up his hands, appearing shocked by her accusation. “I didn’t break anything. Today went along perfectly fine without your being here.”

“Then why are you sucking up to me?”

“I’m not sucking up to you. I just want to watch out for you. With all these crazy murders going on in the city, I thought you should—”

“What murders?”

“They just announced it on the ten o’clock news. They found another body of a mutilated woman in a house off Freret Street. It’s the same as the other in Mid-City.” Kyle gaped at her ignorance for a moment. “You know it’s not safe for you to be walking home alone, Jazz. Scott and I talked about it earlier. One of us is going to be taking you home every night. But Scott had to go home early because little Scottie is sick, so you’re stuck with me tonight.”

Jazzmyn shook her head and went back to her receipts. “I have my gun, Kyle. I’ll be fine.”

Kyle leaned over her desk and put his face in front of her. “This is not a suggestion, Jazz. You will be going home with me tonight, even if I have to hog-tie you with cooking string and throw you in the back of my pickup.”

She smirked at him. “You would love that, wouldn’t you?”

He gazed into her dark green eyes and Jazzmyn felt an uncomfortable tickle rise from her gut. She hastily lowered her eyes to her paperwork.

“I must admit, tying you up would be the highlight of my day,” he conceded in his deep voice.

Jazzmyn knew when Kyle set his mind to something he could be like a spoiled child, determined to have his way.

“All right. Fine. You can take me home.” She reached for a pen. “Just let me finish up with these tallies and then you can take me home.”

“You never did answer my question about the wino,” Kyle persisted, never backing away from her.

Jazzmyn sighed, feeling her patience waning. “What question?”

“Whether he was a mushy kisser or a wet kisser?”

“Kyle,” Jazzmyn said in an exasperated tone of voice. “You do realize I have a gun in my purse.”

“So?”

“Unless you stop pestering me about Julian, I will shoot you in the ass.”

Kyle stood back from her desk. “I always knew you were into kinky stuff.”

“Kyle!” she shouted.

He held up his hands in surrender, and then walked out of the office.

Once he had left, Jazzmyn could not help but chuckle. The man always had a way of making her furious, but she could never stay mad at him for long. She didn’t know if it was his playful blue eyes, boyish grin, or chiseled features that got to her, but Kyle Baker always knew how to push her buttons.

And Julian? The man’s dark good looks sashayed into her thoughts. Their afternoon together had left her even more intrigued by Julian Devereau than before their date. She wondered where they would end up and how they would be together. If ever there was a man who was the epitome of sex for Jazzmyn, it was Julian. Every time he touched her, came near her, or breathed against her flesh, she thought she was going to go absolutely insane. 

“Great,” she whispered. “I’ve got one I want to kill and the other I want to….” Then she smiled.

***

“Come on, Jazz,” Kyle pleaded as he followed her through the wide doors of her home later that night. “You know I’d tell you about it if it was my date.” He walked past her into the foyer.

Jazzmyn glared at him as he stood before the entrance to the living room. “I don’t remember inviting you in,” she said gruffly.

“Since when do I need to be invited?” He headed down the hallway along the stairs toward the back of the house. “I’m going to make some coffee. You want any?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Isn’t it a little late for coffee?” she called from the foyer.

“No,” he answered as he kept walking. “Would you prefer I made myself a drink?”

“Fine. Coffee is in the upper cabinet next to the sink.”

“I remember. I’ll put the coffee maker on,” he shouted from the kitchen doorway.

Jazzmyn shook her head, knowing what Kyle was doing. Whenever Kyle wanted to talk about something that was bothering him, he would follow her inside and plop down on her green velvet sofa in her living room. Over the years they had shared a great deal on that sofa.

“Maybe a little too much,” she mumbled as she reflected on their night together.

She went to the arched doorway that marked the entrance to the living room and pulled the heavy cypress pocket doors open. After flipping on the lights, she surveyed the room.

The green velvet Queen Anne mahogany sofa sat facing the enormous marble fireplace over a green and white Oriental rug. Against the far wall on either side of the walnut fireplace mantle with its delicate carvings of mythological creatures were matching green velvet Queen Anne mahogany chairs. Next to both chairs, white french windows looked out over the edge of the property. Just above the mantle, two brass sconces long ago converted to electric lights flickered to resemble gas lamps. Finally, Jazzmyn’s eyes rose above the decorative lights to the huge painting of a pretty, round-faced, young woman in a stylish lace gown.

She approached the mantle and browsed the delicate features, pink, cherubic cheeks, and bright blue eyes in the portrait. The young woman’s dress was corseted at the waist and flared out in a hoopskirt fashion all the way to the ground. In her hand was a white fan, and around her slender shoulders was wrapped a white lace shawl.

“Why are you staring at that painting?” Kyle asked as he stepped into the room. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“Ah, no.” Jazzmyn motioned to the picture. “I was just remembering something Julian told me about the woman in the painting.”

“Julian?” Kyle snorted with contempt. “What could he possibly know about old Odette?”

She wheeled around to face him. “How did you know her name was Odette?”

Kyle came up to her. “Jazzmyn, how many times have I been in your house?” He pointed at the portrait. “I’ve read the nameplate on the bottom of that painting about a hundred times.”

Jazzmyn turned back to the mantle and admired the young woman’s innocent beauty.

“What did the wino tell you?” he pestered.

“Julian knew a lot about my family history.” She shook her head. “He knew a lot about many of the families in the French Quarter, as well. He told me stories about each family that lived in all the different houses we walked past. Funny thing was, all the people he spoke about have been dead for over a hundred a fifty years.”

“You said he liked New Orleans history,” Kyle mentioned with a shrug. “Maybe he read that stuff in a book?”

She glanced back at him. “When did I tell you he liked New Orleans history?”

“You didn’t. You told everybody else in the restaurant about it and it got back to me.” He walked over to the sofa and sat down. “What did he tell you about Odette?”

Jazzmyn traced her fingers along the dusty fireplace mantle. “That she was apparently engaged to some rich merchant’s son. The guy ran around on her, and out of shame she hung herself in the back garden.”

“Oh, great!” Kyle howled. “If that doesn’t give you nightmares while sleeping in this old, creepy house, I don’t know what will.”

She wiped the dust from her fingers. “Here’s the kicker. The rich merchant’s son Odette was engaged to was Julian’s ancestor, another Julian Devereau, and the one that all the male heirs in his family are named after.”

“All of them? That must make for interesting family reunions.”

Jazzmyn stepped over to the sofa. “He showed me his family home, built by his ancestor who was engaged to Odette. It was a big place on Bourbon and Esplanade.”

“Not The Satyr House?” Kyle challenged with a look of trepidation in his eyes.

“I think so.” She sat down next to him. “There was a big plaster shield above the front door of a half-man, half-goat creature playing a flute. I think that’s a satyr, isn’t it?”   

“That’s The Satyr House,” Kyle confirmed, nodding. “Big yellow mansion. I know it well. Didn’t know it belonged to the Devereaus though. The place is supposed to be haunted.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve taken the ghost tours in the Quarter. It’s one of their stopping points.” He sat back on the sofa. “The place belonged to some guy who was cursed by a voodoo priestess to spend eternity as a man who only wanted women and wine, but would never know love. In other words, he became a satyr.”

“How come I never heard about this place?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Have you ever taken a ghost tour?”

“No,” she replied.  

“That’s why. The tour guides know all the gossip on those old houses in the Quarter. That, or they make it up.”

“But Julian told me the same story,” she pointed out.

“Maybe he took one of the tours. Did you get to go inside?”

She shook her head. “But he is preparing dinner for me there Wednesday night, and promised to show me the house then.”

His light brown brows went up. “He’s preparing dinner? Cooking or catering?”

Jazzmyn chuckled at the idea of Julian cooking. “Does he look like he can cook?”

Kyle’s features squinted into a scornful scowl. “The man acts like he has had others serving him all of his life. So no, I’m sure he can’t cook.” Kyle studied her face as he sat back on the sofa. “Do you really like this guy, Jazz?”

“I don’t know. There are times when I’m not really interested in him, and then times when he really….” She glanced over at Kyle and decided it was better not to tell him what she was thinking.

“When he really turns you on. That’s what you wanted to say, isn’t it?”

She rubbed her hand anxiously behind her neck. “Kyle, I don’t think we should talk about this.”

“No, I want to hear this, Jazz.”

She let her body sag into the sofa. “No, you don’t.”

He leaned in closer to her. “Yes, I do. I want to know what he has that I don’t. I’ve been racking my brains for weeks, since he first came into the restaurant, desperate to figure this out. I’m not an idiot, Jazz. I know you feel something for me. I just want to know why you think this guy will make you happy.”

She pushed him away. “Maybe you should go.”

Kyle reached for her, but Jazzmyn pushed him away once more. She stood from the sofa and began to leave when Kyle stood up in front of her, blocking her retreat.

The instant she saw his face, she knew. His eyes appeared to be lit by a raging fire, and his countenance became uncharacteristically serious. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms with a strength she never knew he possessed.

“Do you know how it feels to watch you be seduced by another man?” he murmured against her mouth.

“Kyle, don’t do this. You’re my—” But she never got to finish her words before his mouth covered hers.

Just when she was about to raise her fists and begin fighting him off, a strange thing happened. A spark from somewhere deep within the reaches of her belly came forward. As his lips tempted hers, she felt that spark grow in intensity until, without realizing, she slipped her arms about his neck.