Fangs for Nothing

Chapter Twelve IF THESE WALLS COULD TALK

(Thankfully the Bouncer Can)

DRAKE knew exactly what Josie Lynn was referring to, but maybe it was the residual effects of the drugs, or that fact that she was standing only inches away from him and he really, really dug how she looked in his shirt, but his brain just didn’t seem to be working.

“Our kind?”

Josie Lynn nodded. “Yeah, she said, ‘our kind must stick together.’”

“Oh, that.” He started walking and she quickly fell into step beside him, casting glances at him, clearly awaiting an explanation.

“She was just referring to the fact that we—” he paused, then said quickly and rather proudly, “are performers. Because I’m in a band. So she considers us all, you know, contemporaries.”

She considered his explanation. “So why wouldn’t she consider the Chers contemporaries, too?”

“She’s just jealous of all the changes and other female impersonators’ success. Rivalry, I guess.”

Josie Lynn nodded, seeming to accept his explanation. Thankfully. There was no way Drake was going to tell her that Madame Renee Chevalier had been a vampire even longer than he had. Vampirism was going to stay out of the topic of conversation completely. Because first, she’d think he was totally mad. And second, if she didn’t, she’d be scared shitless. Neither a good option.

“So do we head to the nightclub on Royal?”

“I think we’d do better to see if I can get into my apartment,” Drake said.

“What? Not willing to go into the nightclub dressed like that?”

He shot her a look, although truth be told, he would be glad to get into some pants that weren’t squeezing his balls quite so much.

“I can’t say these are the most comfortable clothes I’ve ever worn,” he said, wriggling himself to adjust things a little, which didn’t help. Everything was smooshed against the unforgiving plastic. “But mostly, I think we are probably going to need cash. And I also wanted to see if Cort, my roommate, you know, Katie’s husband, is there.”

Josie Lynn gave a nod, and he realized he was probably overexplaining.

“Anyway, I’m hoping he might know or remember something. Maybe he saw something odd before we all started tripping.”

“Where’s your apartment?” She said, looking around like she wanted to keep their mission moving. So much for actually becoming comfortable around him.

“This way,” he pointed. “On Toulouse, on the block just across from The Dungeon. So maybe we should go to my place, hit The Dungeon to see if we can get any info there, then to Queen Mary’s.”

They started down Bourbon, dodging groups of revelers, a few drunks who’d gone way beyond revelry and damn near into oblivion. Then a bunch of religious fanatics waving signs and telling everyone they were going to Hell. Just an average night on Bourbon.

“Hey, Legs.” An obviously inebriated guy in his mid-twenties who, given his Saints jersey, appeared to be a local, grabbed Josie Lynn’s arm as they walked past.

“I like the short little dress you got going on here,” he slurred, his bleary eyes still managing to look focused enough on her. “Why don’t you join me and my buddies?”

“No thank you,” Josie Lynn said, her voice hard and annoyed. She jerked her arm out of the man’s grasp, but he only reached for her again.

“Hey dude, leave her alone,” Drake warned.

The guy gave him the once-over, then glanced at his two buddies before saying, “What are you going to do about it in your shiny, bright blue pants?”

Then he returned his attention to Josie Lynn.

“Come on,” the drunk coaxed. “I’d love to have a chance to see what’s under all those pretty ruffles.”

Drake didn’t wait for Josie Lynn’s response. Instead he grabbed the arm of the man that held her and twisted it, so the rude drunk was not only no longer touching Josie Lynn, but also not even facing her.

“I said leave her alone.” Drake jerked the man’s arm upward just enough that the drunk cried out in pain. “Now are you and your friends going to move along and not bother this lady anymore?”

The man didn’t answer right away, and Drake couldn’t help jerking his arm again.

“Alright,” the man shouted, the pain in his shoulder clearly making him more willing to answer promptly. Drake cast looks toward his two friends. Neither looked inclined to jump to their friend’s defense. In fact, they both kept glancing around them as if they hoped no one was even noticing the tussle. Yeah, they were no threat.

Drake jerked his arm one last time, then released the drunk. “Just get out of here. And try to remember your manners, will you?”

The jerk shot him an angry look but said nothing more. His buddy urged him to just come on, and the guy did, staggering off into the crowds.

Drake turned back to Josie Lynn. “Are you okay?”

Josie Lynn answered with a furious glare, then she started walking in the direction of his apartment.

Drake stood there, stunned, then jogged to catch up with her brisk, determined pace.

“Cupcake? Why are you mad at me?”

She stopped so suddenly and spun toward him so fast that he almost mowed her over. Instead he caught her shoulders, both to balance her and to stop himself.

“Can you please stop calling me that?”

“Okay,” he agreed readily. It was an honest mistake anyway.

“I could have handled that,” she said, her tone not angry or irritated, but rather flat and resolute.

Drake frowned, confused. Okay, just a moment ago she had clearly been angry with him, and now she seemed guarded, pulling up a wall of strength. It made no sense.

“I have no doubt you could have handled it. I saw the gator deal. But I was just trying to help.”

“Well, don’t.”

She started walking again, and again he followed, although this time he didn’t rush to catch up with her. He couldn’t figure her out. In Madame Renee’s she had willingly accepted his protective touch when that letch Donald had been giving her a look like he’d like to eat her whole. Yet, he stepped in when some drunk dude was actually getting physical and she was pissed. Women were confusing at best. This one was utterly mind-boggling.

He started to hasten his pace to catch up with her, especially since she was going to walk right past Toulouse, when another man approached her. This man was tall and barrel-chested. Far more intimidating than the silly drunk.

What the hell? All this male attention was getting to him. She was definitely cute—well, beautiful if you asked him, but damn there were plenty of pretty women on Bourbon. Why did men feel the need to approach his lady?

His lady? Okay, where had that come from? And he needed to stop that kind of thought right away. Josie Lynn wasn’t even close to his lady. She could barely stand him.

Still he felt his protectiveness—and possessiveness, if he was being honest, rise up again like hackles on a feral dog.

“Hey Josie Lynn, how are you feeling tonight?”

Some of Drake’s protective concern tamped down as he realized the man knew her. Then he looked at Josie Lynn and realized from her puzzled expression that she had no idea who this man was.

Even though she’d just informed him she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, he moved to stand close beside her.

“Drake,” the man greeted, extending a beefy hand toward him.

Drake accepted in, knowing for a fact he’d never met this man before.

“I bet you’re feeling even rougher than this little one,” the man said, jerking his head toward Josie Lynn. “You two were pretty wrecked. And wild.”

The big guy smiled, but Drake didn’t sense any lasciviousness or even judgment in his grin. He’d genuinely found them amusing.

“Yeah, we were,” Drake agreed, really hating that he had no idea what he was referring to.

“Come have a drink with me before I start my shift,” the giant said jovially.

Drake looked at Josie Lynn, who shrugged. It probably made sense to do so, since clearly this guy remembered them from last night. And from his familiarity must have talked to them for quite some time.

“Sure,” Drake said and waited for the man to lead the way.

It shouldn’t have surprised Drake, but it did, as the man led them straight to The Dungeon.

They entered the dark entryway that seemed to be set up more like a novelty haunted attraction than a bar. The man led them through a few hallways to a back bar that was mostly empty, although the hard rock still pounded off the walls and made it hard to hear.

“What can I get you?” the man asked.

Drake ordered his usual whiskey, neat. Josie Lynn hesitated, then after an uneasy look around the place, asked for a glass of wine.

“So dude, you two had a pretty kick-ass night last night,” the man grinned with approval. He turned to Josie Lynn. “You are pretty damn feisty.”

Even in the shadowy light, Drake could see her blush.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get the better of Obsidian. Woman or man.”

Well that answered two suspicions of Drake’s. Yes, Josie Lynn’s run-in had been with Obsidian. And he’d been right to avoid that chick. She was scary.

He glanced at Josie Lynn, who looked embarrassed and bemused all at once. But she did seem to find her voice, having to practically shout over the music.

“Why did I fight with her?”

The man gave her a somewhat surprised look himself. Apparently he hadn’t caught on to the fact that they had no clue what had happened. For the entire night.

“She was trying to make moves on your man here.” He tilted his head in Drake’s direction. Then he frowned, his gaze moving over Drake. “Interesting outfit, buddy.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.” This guy clearly wasn’t terribly quick, if he had just noticed Drake’s look.

The man frowned at him a moment longer, then turned back to Josie Lynn. “You definitely put her in her place.”

“Then what happened?” she asked, her words coming out stiltedly as if she really didn’t want to know, but knew she needed to.

The burly guy grinned again. “Well, let’s just say a good fight seems to turn you both on.”

Josie Lynn reached for her glass of wine and downed half of it. Drake personally wanted to ask for more details, but he was pretty sure Josie Lynn would have turned her Cajun fighting skills on him.

Instead he settled for saying, “We didn’t cause too much of a scene, did we?”

“Nah,” the man said. “Nothing that hasn’t happened here before.”

Drake wasn’t sure what that meant exactly. He was pretty certain a lot of things had happened here before.

“And you two got interrupted by Zelda, before you got too hot and heavy.”

“Did we leave with her?”

The man nodded, gulping down his Jägerbomb.

“She said she needed to find her wedding dress. And her groom.” The guy chuckled, his laugh deep even over the pounding bass of Nine Inch Nails reverberating in the room. “In that order.”

Drake smiled, not finding that information as amusing as this guy did. Where had they gone after that? Zelda’s sex room? Or somewhere else before they ended up there? And how hot and heavy had he and Cupcake really gotten? Damn, he wished he remembered. Especially that last part.

“Oh shit,” the man suddenly said. “Looks like your nemesis is back.”

Both Drake and Josie Lynn turned to see Obsidian walk into the room. Tonight she wore even more black eyeliner than last night, obviously trying to mask a pretty impressive shiner. But it did little to hide the injury, especially since tonight she wore a purple corset that just seemed to bring out the black-and-purple bruise all the more.

She paused when she saw them at the bar, but strode into the room anyway.

“She must be a masochist as well as a sadist,” the giant said, shaking his head and pretty much voicing Drake’s own thoughts.

She walked over to the bar, taking a seat just one down from Drake. The bartender, whom Drake didn’t recall either, shot all of them a rather wary look before going to take Obsidian’s drink order. Clearly she remembered them, too.

“Maybe we should just go,” Josie Lynn said, making her voice loud to be heard over the music. But the song ended midsentence so everyone could hear her, crystal-clear.

“Yes, maybe you should,” Obsidian said wryly, but then she smiled invitingly at Drake. “You can of course stay. Surely you are bored with the company of some uncouth, backwoods Cajun by now. Only good for one night. And only good for one thing.”

She gave Josie Lynn a withering look. “If you’re even good for that.”

Drake stared at the woman. Maybe the reason he instantly had found her so unnerving at the wedding wasn’t because she was a whip-wielding domme, but actually because she was nuts. What the hell was she thinking when Josie Lynn had already kicked her butt once? Masochistic was right.

Drake then shot Josie Lynn a look, because he sensed her shifting beside him. This was going to get ugly. Josie Lynn had already been annoyed when she’d walked in here, and he suspected Obsidian’s goading was not going to improve that mood.

And Drake was right. Josie Lynn now stood. There was going to be another brawl, and frankly he didn’t think Obsidian was going to just luck out with a black eye. But instead of pushing out her barstool, and going over to the clearly non-too-bright domme, Josie Lynn pushed the stool aside and stepped closer to him. In fact, she didn’t just step closer, she placed her hands on Drake’s knees to get him to swivel toward her, then she stepped in between his spread thighs.

Drake had no idea what she was doing, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to stop her. She then placed a hand on either side of his face, leaned in and kissed him utterly senseless.

So senseless that it took him a moment to react, but when it registered that Josie Lynn’s full, soft lips were moving over his, he groaned hungrily and caught the back of her head with his hand, taking control of the kiss.

She made a small noise and met his intensity without hesitation. Drake wasn’t sure how long the kiss continued, but he knew it wasn’t long enough, and he was reluctant to let her back away from their embrace. But he didn’t miss the lust-hazed look in her sky-blue eyes, making them almost glitter in the dim light.

Satisfaction filled him. She was as attracted to him as he was to her. Of course, being a vampire, he could also sense her desire, smell it. It was unbelievably arousing, the best, most heady scent he could recall ever encountering. Even more so than blood. Or maybe it was because the intense fragrance was a part of her blood, an essence unique to Josie Lynn alone. And just for him.

His fangs descended, like an inexperienced teen unable to control his bodily reactions. That hadn’t happened to him since the very first years of his vampirism. He kept tight restraint over his vampiric desires. Not to mention, the last time he’d experienced a blackout, at Johnny’s wake, which was a long story in itself, he’d ended up with an implanted fang. That fang just didn’t descend down without conscious thought on his part. Yet there it was poking his inner lip.

And frankly, he didn’t care that he was having such lack of control. He was too aroused. Too desperate to keep touching his Cupcake.

Just when he would have leaned in and kissed her again, Josie Lynn moved back from the lee of his thighs. Still dazed by his own desire, it took him a moment to realize that her attention was now on Obsidian. A smug smile curved those lips he’d just tasted.

“Hmm,” Josie Lynn said with haughtiness that rivaled the self-assurance of any lady of the court that he’d grown up with, “does that look like boredom, darling?”

“Not to me,” the big guy still seated with them said with a great measure of admiration.

“Not to me either,” Drake said, pulling Josie Lynn back to him. He had to kiss her again. And she allowed it readily. Fortunately he did have the expertise to kiss her without nicking the soft, fragile skin of her lips with his fangs.

Oh, he wanted to. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to strip her naked and fill her completely. With his cock. With his fangs. He hadn’t wanted to bite a human for decades, always knowing what a slippery slope feeding from a mortal was. At the beginning of his life as vampire, he’d been insatiable. Biting anyone, everyone. He’d been dangerous. Much to his shame, he’d been deadly. But he’d gotten control of that until feeding from humans didn’t even tempt him.

Until now.

But this wasn’t just a desire to feed. This was a desire to feed from Josie Lynn. Only Josie Lynn. This was about a hunger that had nothing to do with satisfying his need for blood. This was about satisfying his need for this woman.

It was overwhelming. And this time he broke the kiss, afraid for the first time in probably a hundred years that he couldn’t keep his lust in check.

Josie Lynn swayed slightly in his hold, her lips parted and glistening from their kiss.

It was Drake’s turn to feel smug. Oh yeah, Miss Josie Lynn was definitely affected by him. Very affected.

“Please just get a damn room,” Obsidian said, picking up her martini and leaving the room.

“You really rub that one the wrong way,” the big guy said. “But then she never handles not getting what she wants very well.”

Drake tried to sort out his scrambled, desirous thoughts. Not easy with Josie Lynn still positioned between his legs. She seemed to be having the same difficulty, because she blinked a few times, then moved back to her barstool.

With a little distance between them, his thoughts cleared a little. “What—what does she do if she doesn’t get her way?”

“Oh, she’s a mean one,” the man stated, all humor gone. “Zelda is a dominatrix because she finds pleasure in it, and she wants her partner to find pleasure, too. Obsidian is a domme because she likes to hurt.”

Drake glanced at Josie Lynn, who was already looking at him, and he could tell she was thinking the same thing. Maybe Obsidian was somehow involved in the events of last night.

“You probably don’t have anything to really worry about. Hell, she knows you can definitely get the best of her,” the man said, offering Josie Lynn a smile of respect. “But I do think she could be a dirty fighter. So just be aware.”

He stood then. “And you know if you ever need my help you got it. And you can always find me at the door. Speaking of which, I better clock in.”

Drake realized the man was a bouncer here. He knew the guy looked familiar. Drake had probably seen him dozens of times. After all, Drake had been working on Bourbon for years. That was oddly comforting to know a bouncer had had an eye on them last night. They’d at least been safe here. Well, Obsidian hadn’t been safe, but this guy seemed to think she’d had it coming anyway.

“Thanks.” Drake offered the man his hand. “Sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“Marcus. And you’re with that band that plays right over at the Old Opera House, right? The Impalers?”

Drake nodded. “That’s me.”

“Dude, you are a kick-ass guitarist.”

“Thanks, Marcus. We appreciate you looking out for us last night.”

Marcus chuckled. “I didn’t need to look out for you guys. You had your own little bouncer right here.” He nodded toward Josie Lynn.

Josie Lynn smiled, but Drake could see that she wasn’t comfortable with everything that had happened. Last night or just earlier.

“Okay, have a good night.” Marcus left them.

After Marcus left, Drake glanced at Josie Lynn, who appeared very focused on her glass of wine. Yeah, she wasn’t going to want to discuss their kiss, or how fabulous it had been. In fact, he suspected she was going to attempt to act like it never happened.

As if just to validate his thoughts, she said, without looking away from her infinitely fascinating wineglass, “So maybe Obsidian is the one who put the drugs in the punch.”

Drake nodded. “She seems like she could be a likely candidate, but we should keep looking for the Chers. There’s definitely something suspicious about them. And as we discussed, it seems like they would have needed an inside person to drug the guests.”

She polished off her wine like it was shot of tequila. “Let’s keep moving then.”

Oh, she was absolutely not discussing the kiss. No way, no how.

“Okay,” he said.

KEEP MOVING. THAT was Josie Lynn’s first instinct, just like it always was. She wanted to forge ahead and get the answers they needed. She certainly didn’t want to be making out with a Bourbon Street band guy. Talk about the king of all bad boys.

No, she had to amend that, she did want to be making out with a Bourbon Street band guy, and that was why she had to keep moving. Get this mystery solved and get away from him ASAP.

Hadn’t her last bad-boy boyfriend taught her enough of a lesson about why this type of man was exactly the type of man she needed to avoid? Sure, this guy would be fun for a while. But then things would go horribly wrong. He’d want to “borrow” money. He’d want a place to crash for “just a couple days.” Or he’d be seeing other women on the side. Or all of the above. Josie Lynn had experienced it all. And she wasn’t going there again. Ever.

“So should we head to your place?” she asked as she stood, reaching for a pocket she realized she didn’t have—not that it mattered, since she didn’t have any cash either. Shit, this no-money thing was a real pain in the ass.

“Don’t worry,” the bartender, a pierced and tattooed woman in her early twenties said as she brushed a shock of fuchsia hair out of her eyes. “Marcus picked up the tab on these for you.”

“That was nice,” Drake said, clearly relieved, too.

“Well you did buy all the rounds last night,” the woman said, giving them a look that stated it had been a lot of rounds.

“Oh right,” Drake said, not sounding nearly as worried as Josie Lynn felt. How much money had they spent last night? And did that mean they’d had their wallets—and clothes—at that point last night? And exactly how much money did we spend, she thought again. She didn’t have money to spare.

She didn’t have any money at all, it would appear.

Drake thanked the bartender again, then waited for Josie Lynn to lead the way.

“You first,” she said. She had no idea how they’d gotten to this back room, and frankly the combination of loud, thumping metal music, dim lighting, and winding hallways was too much for her to deal with.

And it definitely wasn’t the fact that she was so shaken by Drake’s kiss. No, not at all.

She followed him through the hallways that just seemed to lead from one bar or nook to another. The Dungeon didn’t seem like an appropriate name for this place. The Creepy, Really Loud Maze seemed like a better name to her.

The operative word being creepy. A cold shiver snaked up her spine, and she found herself looking behind her. She expected to see another patron—after all, it was a bar and club, but the hallway was empty.

Drake made another turn only to end up in another hallway. They passed another strange little alcove and again, Josie Lynn felt that weird shivery feeling at the back of her neck.

She looked behind her again just in time to see a flash of purple and red and black slip into the nook they’d just passed.

Obsidian.

Was she following them? The idea unnerved Josie Lynn. A lot. Marcus made it sound like the woman had a reputation for being more than a little strange. And they’d just considered the idea that she was nutty enough to drug a whole wedding party.

Josie Lynn touched Drake’s arm, and he immediately stopped.

“I think Obsidian just stepped into that alcove,” Josie Lynn said leaning close so he could hear her over the thundering industrial music. “I think she might be following us.”

“She is,” he said with full certainty.

“Did you see her, too?”

Drake shook his head, which suddenly turned to a nod. “Yeah, I did.”

Josie Lynn frowned. She hadn’t seen him looking back at any time. But maybe he had at the same time she did.

“What do we do?” she asked, truly disturbed by this weird chick.

“Ignore her. She’s no threat.”

She looked behind her again to be sure Obsidian wasn’t coming. “But Marcus made her sound pretty much like a wackadoo.”

Drake smiled. “She may be a wackadoo, but you are definitely safe with me. No worries.”

He took her hand and continued down the hallway. Josie Lynn glanced back over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure if she was really safe with Drake, but his strong hand around hers did make her feel better.

And once they were out of the tangle of shadowy hallways and back onto the crowded, garishly lit streets of the French Quarter, she decided she had a new appreciation for Bourbon Street. All the people made her feel safer. Although she had to admit, Drake was making her feel safe, too, and she definitely wasn’t willing to release his hand.

There was no way around it. Obsidian was weird.

“Now you understand why I was avoiding her. She’s not right,” Drake said as if he was reading Josie Lynn’s mind, and she had to admit she did understand why. She just wished she didn’t always react so strongly to his method of avoiding.

Damn, he was a good kisser.

And those thoughts, my friend, will get you neck deep into all sorts of trouble. Trouble with a naughty smile, an amazing kiss, a killer body, and sexual skills she was willing to bet would leave her a heap of cum-soaked Jell-O.

Okay, that image was kind of gross . . . but she suspected very accurate.

And one she had to forget about. But what other things could he do with that mouth?

“Are you okay?”

She frowned up at him, wondering if she’d actually said some of her thoughts aloud or something.

Oh dear God, please tell me I didn’t say that Jell-O thing aloud.

“You’re squeezing my hand,” he explained, clearly seeing she had no idea why he’d asked.

She instantly released his hand. “Yeah—yeah, I’m fine. I just wish we could figure out what happened last night.”

He looked down at his now-empty hand, then back at her as if he didn’t believe her, but he said nothing more, leading her across Bourbon to the other side of the street. They walked past a bar that she recognized as the one Marcus had mentioned they played at. Instead of walking into the bar door, he took a small side one.

“You live over the bar where you work?” she said as soon as they were in the somewhat quieter stairwell.

“Crazy, huh?” he said. “But I’m rarely late for work.”

They went up a rickety flight of stairs to a door covered in peeling red paint.

“Here’s hoping Cort is here.” He turned the doorknob and the door opened, but instead of looking relieved, he stared down at the knob.

“What’s wrong?” She tried to see what had him looking so concerned.

“The door was jimmied open.” He cautiously pushed the door open and poked his head inside. He remained still.

Listening, Josie Lynn guessed, although something about his utterly motionless stance seemed like he was doing something beyond listening. Sensing seemed like a better word, even though she knew that couldn’t really be what he was doing.

“The apartment is empty,” he said after a moment.

“How can you tell?” She hadn’t heard anything either, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t hiding inside. Hell, for all they knew, there were five Chers lying in wait. Truthfully, that didn’t sound too scary, but at this point Josie Lynn wasn’t trusting anyone.

“Well, I’m not totally sure,” Drake said, sounding almost . . . guilty like he’d been caught in a lie or something. Maybe he was just trying to sound certain to comfort her. “But I think it’s safe. I’ll go in first though.”

“I certainly hope so,” she said wryly. “It’s your apartment. I know I fought a gator for you, but this one is all yours.”

He smiled. “If there’s a gator in here, I’m deferring back to you. Sorry.”

She smiled, too. “Okay. Fair enough. But everything else is yours.”

“Deal.” Drake pushed open the door without hesitation and strolled in the door. The entrance led directly into a small but tidy kitchen. The lights were on and everything looked normal.

Again, Drake walked into the hallway without any signs of hesitation. He really did seem pretty confident the place was empty.

Brave? Or foolish? Josie Lynn couldn’t decide.

The hallway was flanked by a few sets of doors, three were closed and one was open and dark. The room at the end of the hallway, which Josie Lynn could already tell was the living room even from this distance, was lit as well.

Drake headed directly toward that room, not acknowledging the other doors as he passed them. Josie Lynn was no cop or detective. She wasn’t even that good at Clue, but she was pretty sure they should be checking every room just in case. She didn’t want to get it with the candlestick in the conservatory by Bob Mackie Cher.

“Aren’t you even going to check the other rooms?” she whispered.