Born Of Night

Chapter One

The streets raged with the dizzying sounds and scents of Mardi Gras in full swing.

Women and men laughed, twisted and writhed to music, singing lyrics known only to themselves. Beads jangled like hollow bits of wood. Torn, dyed feathers floated in the air on a lazy breeze that carried with it the ripe smell of too many people too close together. The voices of drunken revelers warred with the exciting tempo of a zydeco band playing on one corner and a blues band on another. An alto saxophone and a clarinet played a moody, mellow song that stirred the blood of those close enough to hear it above the dull roar of carousal.

There was no other city quite like New Orleans, cozy as a small town with all the amenities of a metropolis. History drenched every street corner, every balcony on high, every facade along the waterfront. Traditions ruled the city with a firm hand, southern justice was always in effect, but everyone turned a blind eye when it came to the decadence of the holiday.

No, there was no other experience to be had like that at Mardi Gras.

It was dangerous times for the unwary, though. He’d never seen so many vamps prowling the streets, hunting prey, getting fat and drunk off the careless and ignorant.

Not that anyone would believe an underground war raged in the dead of night. The truce that had held long before he was born was as shaky as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. The Lycan territories were breached, and the feuds had spilled over onto the neutral grounds of the historic district--into the main heart of the city.

Since the vampire lord’s disappearance a month or two ago, things had turned from shit, to rancid shit.

Gabriel Benoit snickered at that thought. The pack thought he was crazy for braving no man’s land, especially at night. He didn’t let little things like caution get in his way though. He was just cocky and confident enough it didn’t bother him to think of being outnumbered. Some would call it stupidity. He called it weariness of denying his appetites.

Vamps traveled in packs, and when they could, they supped on Lycan. One bite was enough to take a Lycan down, paralyzed with their venom. If two struck, it was wolfie for dinner. Their potent, Lycan blood was the whole reason this damned war had been started in the first place, and frankly, Gabriel was tired of ceding hunting grounds and territory to the blood suckers. It was getting to where no decent Lycan could even roam the streets or bayous alone anymore--except during the daytime.

If he could’ve, he’d give up all his Lycan powers to just be normal and not have to worry with the bull-shitting politics and wars, the never ending battles that always seemed to flare and stir up the natives. It was just a damn miracle some tabloid hadn

’t caught on and got the humans started on a vamp and Lycan hunting season.

Gabriel sighed. He just wanted a simple life, with a woman ready, willing, and waiting in his bed ... and a car that stayed running more often than not. That wasn’t too much to ask.

Still, Gabriel relished the thought of taking on a pack of vampires, found it invigorating as only a man with too much time on his hands could. Thus, he’d come to the “party” looking for action ... of one type or another.

Moths clinked like tinny music against the heated light above him. The light flickered, making him almost annoyed enough to move--but not quite. Gabriel leaned against the lamp post, his arms crossed over his chest, lazily perusing the crowd with an easy grin and the heat of spiced rum flowing through his veins.

Even without the risk of battle, the others would not have come to the festivities.

They felt alienated from the humans, too obviously different. Gabriel suffered no such qualms, himself. But more and more, it seemed they grew more animalistic and less human as time wore on. He would be worried except for the fact that that was what had allowed them to survive through the centuries to start with.

A woman smiled as she walked by, catching his eye. She giggled, hooked her hands under the hem of her shirt, and flashed him before running off. Gabriel grinned, shaking his head.

He never denied himself this pleasure. This was his favorite time of the year, when the underbelly of the city exposed itself and its impurities were reveled in as only proper sinners could appreciate.

Plus, he enjoyed seeing women flash their breasts for something so trifling as beaded necklaces and a smile from an appreciative man.

He’d been lounging against the cool metal post for some time, enjoying the sweet blues spilling from a local bar and lost in his thoughts, when a scent tickled his nose, strange yet familiar. His beast leapt instantly to life, ruffling the hair on the back of his neck.

Gabriel straightened suddenly, sniffing the wafting air. Past the cloying alcohol and perspiration, he caught it again on the wind. Faint, it uncurled with a spicy sweetness in his senses like a rare perfume.

He dropped off the curb and pushed through the crowded street through sweat slick bodies, following the scent. It teased, taunting, drawing him in until he was helpless to do anything but follow.

Pale skin flashed before him as revelers begged for beads from those standing above in balconies. He ignored them all, intent on his quarry, stopping only when he found the source of his affliction.

Gabriel looped and arm around an iron lamp post, gaining height over the crowd, watching her. He knew instinctively she was the one ... the one that taunted unawares.

She was trapped in the throng, walled in by bodies. She looked mildly worried, as though she was claustrophobic but determined to have a good time regardless.

She looked like a china doll: fragile porcelain skin, baby blue eyes, a pink blush tingeing her cheeks. She smiled and pushed back a loose tendril of pale blonde hair behind her ear. One pert breast lifted with the action, and even with the distance he caught the slight pucker of her nipple beneath the thin cotton.

He rubbed one thumb against his bottom lip, drawn by her movement and imagined sensation.

An instant fog of lust clouded his brain. She was in heat. Never had he smelled a woman so ripe for fucking. The scent and knowledge threatened to burn away all rational thought. His hands clenched into tight fists, his fingers digging into his palms. His arms bulged with the effort to restrain himself. For a few minutes, he could think of nothing but taking her and laying her on the street, pushing her legs apart and burying his cock deep inside her.

The knowledge that he was reacting as an animal didn’t stop the feelings raging in his blood. If anything, they worsened. His balls tightened, his cock throbbed. He gritted his teeth, pained with the hot surge of blood in his groin.

Slowly, his beast backed down when it realized it would get no satiation. Thoughts churned like sluggish clock wheels, and he finally realized something had tamed the waves of pheromones fanning off her, or else he would have been driven to nothing but pure animal instinct. He didn’t flatter himself by thinking it was his strength of will that had kept him in control.

For the first time since he’d been turned, it had nearly slipped. He didn’t want to think about what could’ve happened.

He continued calming himself, watching her dance, sip her drink. One of thousands, she was more precious than she could ever begin to imagine. And he’d found her.

He wondered where she’d come from, how she’d gotten here.

She could not have been in the city long or else she’d not be standing here, but be trapped in some alley, her skirt up to her waist with a slick cock thrusting into her.

His groin spasmed at the illicit thought, of parting her soft thighs and smelling her want of him, of feeling the thick cream that would ease his passage inside her.

Had the spicy musk of heat been in full effect, he and any other Lycan would’ve been on her like the pack of beasts they were. He knew he could not allow that to happen--and it would if she wasn’t careful.

He growled low in his throat, animal instincts surging to the surface once more.

Then and there, he determined he would take her ... before another could. She was his, and he had every intention of staking his claim to her, tonight.

Now.

Someone jostled her elbow from behind, sending her plastic cup flying from her grasp to clatter dully onto the ground.

“Hey!” Jessica Talvert yelled, whirling around to deliver a blistering tirade.

A hand snaked out and snatched the necklace from her neck. Her throat burned as the chain snapped under the pressure. The thief took off through the crowd before she could even raise a hand to stop him.

Jessica gasped in outrage, following the thief without thinking. The necklace was her only physical link to her past. She was never supposed to take it off--never. She couldn’t lose it!

Jessica pushed through the milling throng, running after him as best she could. He stayed ahead of her, slippery as an eel, weaving through the bodies effortlessly while she was hemmed in. She soon lost him, and jumped up to look over the crowd, ignoring the angry looks she got. She spotted the hooded figure running toward an alley squashed between a strip club and a bar.

Heart pounding with adrenaline, Jessica squirmed through the closed bodies. It was like trying to squeeze through a crack in the wall, and she wondered how the thief had managed it so quickly and easily. After a minute, she broke through and raced past a man hawking naked girls and went into the alley.

An immediate feeling of danger clutched her chest, squeezing her ribs like two gods snapping a wishbone.

A narrow band of light stretched through the center, leaving the sides in utter blackness. Garbage littered the cracked pavement. A clatter of cans sounded deeper, stirred by wind or fleeing feet, she didn’t know. She heard the sounds of a scuffle, of meaty fist strikes and the crash of metal.

Jessica stopped halfway down the alley, catching her breath, wondering what kind of shit she was in now. Was it worth it? She thought the necklace was, but there was no way she could take on a grown man by herself. Or whatever was fighting up ahead.

Suddenly a man stepped out of the shadows and walked towards her with a cocky stride. Had she run headlong into more trouble? Jessica instinctively backed up a step, remaining wary and tense ... until she saw what dangled in his hand.

The silver medallion twirled on its chain, glinting in the failing light and the glare from a distant street lamp. Startled into immobility, Jessica looked blankly up from her necklace to the man. Whatever questioning words she’d had fell forgotten from her mind.

A tension seemed to fill his body, belying his easy, relaxed stance. His left thumb was hooked in his waistband in easy confidence. He held her necklace with his right hand, playing with it as he watched her steadily with an unblinking stare that missed nothing and seemed to see straight through her clothes. Jessica didn’t stop to wonder why he was standing there, or what he’d done to get her necklace back. She should’ve been grateful. She should’ve demanded that he return it to her. But she couldn’t do anything but stare at him, dumbfounded.

The spunk she’d always prided herself on possessing deserted her. She blamed it on shock, on unfamiliar surroundings, on being practically attacked. But those were lies. She’d been all ready to kick ass and chew bubble gum until she saw him. She felt like she’d been kicked in the gut and all the breath knocked from her lungs.

He easily outdistanced her own height, standing at least 6’ 2” , but that wasn’t what had her entranced. He was naked from the waist up, and though she’d seen plenty of practically naked men and women running around the streets, this man put them all to shame. Thin, silver studded rings glinted wickedly from each nipple. His sculpted chest was sparsely covered with hair, hiding none of the beautiful planes, and it moved in a straight, purposeful dark path down his rippled belly and into his jeans--which were tantalizingly unbuttoned, as though he’d hastily thrust them on after carnal pursuits and raced out into the night.

That alone was enough to fuel the coldest woman’s fantasies--even her own. She’d never seen a man with pierced nipples. She wondered what they felt like. Her fingertips prickled with the need to flick those rings.

The shredded, torn jeans he wore fit him like a glove and left little to the imagination.

What they covered had her mind racing to find out his secrets, and hoping he’d slip and fall and tear the jeans the rest of the way off. A patch of skin on one hip showed, and one lingering glimpse at it told her he didn’t wear anything beneath those jeans. If the zipper slid a little lower, she could see everything....

She’d been schooled to at least make a pretense of being a lady, to quash baser instincts. Lessens of ‘good girls don’t’ and ‘bad girls do’ seemed to mesh in one confusing jumble, and she couldn’t for the life of her think of why any good girl wouldn’t do a man like this.

Jessica swallowed, working moisture down her tight throat as she tore her eyes away from his groin. Her eyes felt indelibly seared by that prominent bulge, just waiting to burst out at any moment. Slowly, she worked her astonished way back up to his face. The hard line of his jaw came into view, sharply outlined with black stubble. Full lips quirked at her in a cocky half-smile.

He closed the distance between them, but Jessica barely noticed, only knew he was coming closer. All the better to see him.

She frowned at his amused lips, then peered straight up at his eyes. Sleek, inky hair clung to his throat and streamed over his forehead in rakish abandon, looking mussed and incredibly sexy. Bedroom hair. Smoky bedroom eyes. Brown and flecked with gold, they were mesmerizing and glowed with sensual promise from the light behind her. He appeared to have trace Spanish blood in him--as did many of the locals, giving them darkly sensual looks and deep, bronze skin.

He looked as delicious and sinful as chocolate ... but with bite to it.

He was definitely a heart breaker. Women probably fell all over themselves for one peep at him ... just like her. She tried to be annoyed, but irritation was the furthest thing from her mind.

He held her gaze, watching her intently beneath heavy, straight brows, eyes reflecting the tension in his body.

Jessica blushed so brightly under his intense, knowing stare, she was sure she glowed in the dark. She tore her eyes away from his and focused on his lips, blushed again at her errant thoughts, and dropped her gaze yet again to his chin. Her eyes kept straying down that belly to his unbuttoned fly. His fly bulged impressively, and she wondered absently if anything was going to jump out and bite her. And if she’d really fight it off if it attacked.

“Like what you see, chere?” he finally asked in a velvet drawl, breaking her out of her stupor.

If she’d had fur, she was sure it would ruffle and prickle under that stroking, baritone voice. With an effort, Jessica dragged her gaze back to his, hating that her interest was so damned obvious. Hating more that she continued to blush. She was so hot, she felt like she’d break out in a sweat at any moment. What did she expect?

She’d probably been drooling at him like he was a juicy steak for at least five minutes.

Something changed in him, and his look turned to one of amusement at her perusal.

His gaze dropped to her feet, and he roamed his way up her body, leaving her strangely flushed and aroused. She hadn’t thought it was possible to become aroused just looking at someone, let alone a stranger, and she didn’t like the feeling one bit.

Get a grip, she told herself, and fixed him with a stern stare. “Did you see someone run by here?” she asked, then immediately thought about how stupid that probably sounded. She didn’t know how long she’d gaped at him, because her brain was strangely foggy, but he was holding her necklace and she’d heard the brief fight.

Dammit. She normally curbed her impulse to ask dumb questions. It was hell being a blonde. Society just had no idea the burden they placed on already burdened minds.

He didn’t seem to notice her dumb blonde moment.

He leaned back on his heels. “I did. I found sometin’ you lost, cherie,” he murmured, cocking that smile again. He held up his hand, dangling her necklace before her eyes. The medallion glinted and twirled on its chain.

His husky, drawling accent caressed her ears like a melody, sending shivers up and down her spine like smooth silk. Jessica shook herself with an effort. It was time to stiffen her spine and stop thinking between her legs. She was as bad as a man.

“Thank you.” She reached up to take it, but he snatched his hand back.

“No’ so fast, cherie. Don’ your champion deserve sometin’ in return?”

Maybe she did owe him something for the trouble ... but she wasn’t so sure about just giving in to his demands though. “What kind of rescuer would demand payment?” she asked, propping her hands on her hips.

His teeth flashed in a wide grin. “One who’s smitten with your beauty, chere.”

Jessica rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. Why did all Southern men lay the charm on so thickly? “Oh puhlease.”

He looked hurt that she doubted him. “You wound me, chere. Have you no heart? I have risked my life only t’please, and you begrudge me so small a token as a kiss?”

“A kiss?” she exclaimed. Her heart tripped in her chest, staggered up, and started to run.

He rubbed a thumb against his jaw, measuring her. “Your name and ... a kiss.”

Jessica released an exasperated breath, trying to block out the breathless feeling in her chest at the idea of letting those sultry, pouty lips touch hers. She wasn’t going to play these games. She’d give him what he wanted all right. “It’s Jessica Talvert, and here’s your reward.” She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. She dropped down and gave him a syrupy smile of satisfaction at outwitting him.

Who said she was a dumb blonde?

“Sweet, but I’m no’ your brodder, chere,” he said in a voice brimming with enough sensual menace a delicious primal shiver skated through her body. He caught her arms about the same time she realized his intent, blocking her defensive ball busting move with one knee and her titty twister with an unbreakable hold. Before she knew what was happening, she found herself whirled around and thrust against one wall, hauled tightly against his body.

Shadows cloaked them, spilling across his face. He seemed a lot bigger and more dangerous so tightly against her. She should’ve abandoned her necklace to him.

“Some hero,” she gritted out, squirming in his hold, trying to free a hand. Despite her struggles, she insanely anticipated him stealing a kiss from her. Didn’t it make it all right to enjoy herself if she didn’t really give in? That was a rule somewhere, she was sure.

Something dark and predatory flashed in his eyes, like a slumbering wolf had been awakened. Her breath caught. All the silly little, nervous thoughts washing through her brain froze. He smiled ferally, then bent his head to claim her lips.

Jessica gasped, partly in outrage, but mostly from a surge of heat so sharp and drastic, her heart stopped for a breathless moment.

He seized the break in her defenses and plunged his tongue into her mouth, filling her with hot persuasion and the stroking glide of his tongue. He tasted spicy, like cinnamon and rum and something infinitely wilder and more dangerous. Jessica wanted to bite him, to fight him off, but he rubbed sensuously against her own tongue, silky, slick and rough. It took only moments for vengeful thoughts to disappear entirely and be replaced by the seductive call of desire. Jessica gave a shocked whimper when he retreated and sucked her tongue into his mouth.

She tried to pull back, but he captured the back of her head with an easy, merciless grip, holding her to the thrall of his mouth and his hungry, sucking kiss. Slowly, she began to realize a pressure that had never been there before built low in her belly.

Arousal cramped her pussy with a jerking spasm of pleasure. She gasped into his mouth at the piercing, sweet agony, the awakening of some long slumbering beast inside her. His mouth drove her wild, made her respond in a way she’d never dreamed possible. Heat rippled through her.

He cradled his body into hers, stroking those rough jeans against her trapped slit, melting her core until she felt her wet arousal trickle between her thighs. His groin nestled in the juncture of her thighs, so incredibly close to where she needed it, unbearably hard and erotic, wrecking what little resolve she still possessed. At some point, he’d freed her hands to draw his around her waist and bring her tighter against him, slipping them down to clutch her buttocks and mold her to the hot tightness of his cock.

Jessica clung to him, her fingers stroking his satiny skin and muscled back. She squirmed in pleasurable agony as he thrust against her, fighting the thrill that surged in her blood at his possessive hold and the knowledge that she’d conjured his lust.

She couldn’t seem to get enough air. She felt dizzy with it and the tingling pleasure between her thighs. Her lips and tongue felt gloriously bruised from his kiss, so sensitive she could orgasm if only he’d continue devouring her.

He broke away from her mouth suddenly, leaving her gasping for breath and her knees weak.

“You’re so sweet, cherie,” he said with a drowsy, heated look, rubbing his thumb across his lips and licking the moisture lingering from her mouth off the pad.

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 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.

“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 Bourbon revelers behind. 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 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 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.

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.”

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. She guessed anyone had a right to make a living selling to them. “So is this war still going on?” she asked, amused.

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

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