A slight hint of cigar smoke and sulfur, possibly from a match that lit the first, the crisp, woodsy scent of pine mixed with the clean smell of soap. Morgan breathed it in with an odd need to memorize the scent.
“Ma’am?”
His eyes were covered by dark sunglasses so she couldn’t see the color but his nostrils flared ever so slightly as if, like her, he was breathing her in. His face wasn’t perfectly symmetrical like her kind, was rugged instead of beautiful with a complexion that bespoke of hours spent outdoors in the sun as well as the hint of a dimple in his right cheek.
Morgan was grateful for her own dark lenses covering her eyes as she was sure they were black with hunger if not sparking red with her loss of control. She was completely fascinated, could look at this man all day, but the realization that she was staring at him instead of trying to get her fangs under control had her snapping her head down. Luckily, the dental anomaly that would have most likely had the man doubting his eyes had remained hidden from view behind her closed lips, but such a lapse in judgment was beyond problematic and had her quickly shifting her focus to the more important issue. The body.
The woman was Caucasian, with black, curly hair tied back with a deep purple scarf edged in gold. Her clothing of peasant blouse and broomstick skirt were colorful as were the multitude of bangles and rings left on the corpse. Not a robbery then and cause of death was pretty obvious, considering the odd angle of the woman’s neck and bruising around the throat – a throat absent of puncture wounds. The hint of vampire blood she’d scented? Most likely the woman had fought her attacker, perhaps clawed his face or got in a punch or two. Whoever the killer was, they had to have come straight at the victim then, perhaps tormented and taunted her first rather than sneaking up behind for a quick snap of the neck. Morgan was willing to bet they’d enjoyed the sport. Bastards. As Jourdain had said, this wasn’t about feeding. This was a game or perhaps an order carried out.
“Ma’am. This is an active crime scene. You need to leave now.”
Feeling her teeth with her tongue to make sure they were at least within the realm of normal, Morgan asked, “What happened?”
The man reached out a hand like he might be thinking of assisting her in leaving and Morgan quickly stepped back. If his mere presence had her practically coming out of her skin, what would happen should he touch her?
Both of his hands went up in front of him in a display that he wasn’t a threat just as Morgan heard others approaching. More police? Morgan’s gaze went once more to the body and the ground around the woman as she searched for clues knowing that she’d have to inform Destin Jourdain that he’d most likely lost another of his people.
“You have my assurance that we’re going to take good care of her, ma’am. We’ll find who did this to her.”
As more police converged on the area, Morgan nodded, feeling as she had the night before, that odd reluctance to leave the vicinity of this man. Who was he? Why did he affect her senses so strongly? Before she could stop the words from leaving her lips she blurted, “Who are you?”
The man nodded somberly and pulled a business card from his pocket. “Officer St. John, ma’am. You call me if you hear or see anything suspicious. Okay?”
Taking the card from him carefully so that their fingers didn’t accidentally brush, Morgan looked over the information. Travis St. John. Tucking it away in the back pocket of her jeans, she gave the man a brisk nod and forced herself to turn around and put one foot in front of the other until that odd jangling of her nerves finally ceased. Today, she’d meet with Jourdain as planned but tonight, she was going to have Jamie work her magic to look into Travis St. John so that Morgan could figure out exactly what she was dealing with.
∞∞∞
God, she was beautiful. Travis couldn’t keep from watching her as she walked away. Dark hair braided tight down the back of her head, the tail tucked underneath leaving him curious as to the length. Did it end at her shoulders? Or would it form a curtain all the way down her back to skim that delicious, jean-clad, heart-shaped ass?
Her skin had been pale, flawless cream, her lips a dusty rose unenhanced by any lipstick or gloss. Around average height, for a woman he’d guess, built lean and athletic. As soon as he’d seen her, his fingers had itched to remove those sunglasses that had hidden her eyes but he was willing to bet they were light-colored, blue or perhaps green. Too bad she was a vampire.
“Hey, Saint?”
He'd sensed her last night on Bourbon Street as well, but had kept his eyes averted when she'd approached to find the source to what had no doubt set her own instincts on full alert. She probably didn’t know it, most likely never having encountered someone like him, but they were mortal enemies. His kind having been created to destroy her’s, but despite what the prickle on the back of his neck might be telling him, he'd long ago learned to reserve judgment. Just as not every human deserved to be protected, not every vampire deserved to be killed.
“Saint?”
“Hm?” The fact that she was out during the day was intriguing. Only the Born could tolerate sunlight, so either something had happened to Olivier Rodolfo and Louisiana was now under new management, or the more likely yet disturbing realization, since it was practically unheard of for women in vampire society to hold a territory, was that such a beautiful creature might actually be marrying that sadistic prick, Rodolfo. He was almost tempted to chase her down and find out so that he might warn her away from what would surely be the biggest mistake of her life.
Olivier Rodolfo was the reason he’d come to Louisiana and joined the force here in New Orleans. He’d done so for his sister, but the rumors and whispers that surrounded this particular Born had been reaching Travis’s ears long before Sophia went missing. Black market dealings, weapons, drugs, trafficking in both human and shifter children – the guy was a piece of work and one vampire he’d be happy to watch burn – if he could just get close enough.
Unfortunately, Rodolfo also had a seemingly never-ending supply of flunkies and sycophants willing to take the fall for him whenever they had enough evidence to build a case against the Frenchman, coming forward with full confessions that completely absolved Rodolfo of any wrongdoing. Someday…
“Hello! Earth to St. John.”
Blinking away the slight haze that had settled over his eyes from staring overly long at the spot where the vampire had disappeared, Travis shook his head and turned to face Miller. He must have been preoccupied for quite a bit longer than he’d realized as the scene was now cordoned off with tape and the numbered evidence markers had been set up for the photographer.
He couldn’t resist one last look over his shoulder before he got back to business but he also fully intended to seek out that vampire and find out what she was doing in New Orleans the first chance he got. If it turned out she was to marry Rodolfo, perhaps being forced by her family – not a stretch of the imagination when it came to how the Born worked – he might just have to kill the psychotic bastard to free her from her obligation. Call it his good deed for the week.
Chapter Six
Morgan wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting the headquarters for the Order of Witches to look like, a mansion similar to Rodolfo’s perhaps? But the address to which the GPS on her phone had led her was not it. The small, unassuming yellow house looked similar to every other abode in the vicinity, but there was no mistaking that the large man standing in the doorway to greet her was none other than Destin Jourdain. Power practically rolled off the male in waves. So much so that Morgan felt like she needed to catch her breath as she accepted the hand of friendship he’d extended before he ushered her inside.
“I expected you to be taller,” he said with a booming laugh that was so loud Morgan thought for sure it would shake the foundation.
She looked up at the man that had to be six and a half feet, if not slightly taller, and grinned. “Not all of us can be giants, but I have yet to fail to get the job done.”
“I’ve heard that about you, Miss Rhys. It’s one of the reasons I contacted you.”
