Page 23

Lach

I knew better than to try to convince Cate the party was a bad idea. Even though that was exactly what it was: a very fucking bad idea. Mostly because I was with her. Half the city’s covens were afraid of me; the other half hated me— and were afraid of me, which was even worse.

The moon crept higher in the sky as we drove into First Parish’s territory, new doubts occurring to me with each star that winked into existence overhead.

“You’re quiet,” Cate accused as the Mercedes wove through the streets of the French Quarter. She stared out the window as we passed Jackson Square. “We don’t have to go.”

When she said things like that, what choice did I have? I shook my head, allowing my beastly glamour to fade as we pulled in front of the valet stand at La Porte. “Just thinking.”

“That’s proven dangerous in the past.” Her eyes studied my face, narrowing to track some fleeting ink, my tattoos once again visible. “Change your mind about the costume?”

“It’s better not to hide,” I said gruffly. On Halloween, when creatures of every sort let their proverbial freak flags fly, even my human glamour would be seen as an attempt to disguise myself. As tempted as I was to blend in, I couldn’t risk undermining my own authority in a place like the Quartier Enchanté. Every eye would be on us from the moment we walked through the doors. “Sorry about the costume.”

“You’re beast enough without it.” There was something low and promising in her voice, as if she knew a reward might be in order for pushing me to attend tonight’s festivities.

She wasn’t wrong. The Danse Macabre could be counted on to get the blood stirring.

I paused before the fairly derelict entrance to La Porte and turned to her. “We can leave if anything makes you uncomfortable.”

Her brows shot up as she blinked rapidly. “Ciara told me that no one throws a party like a vampire.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Is this going to be like the Midnight Feast?”

“Not exactly .” I strained for the right way to explain what the evening held. “It’s a bit more theatrical than that, but…”

“Great. It’s an orgy.” She scowled. “Is everything this group does an orgy?”

I considered for a moment, tilting my head as I sorted through centuries of parties. “I mean, if we can help it.”

Maybe I’d discovered my free pass for getting out of walking through La Porte’s door, but Cate only rolled her eyes. “At least I’m prepared this time.”

“So…you still want to go?”

“Why not?” She winked at me. “It could be fun.”

I didn’t miss the suggestive note in her voice. “Fun?”

“Last time, we weren’t together.” She picked at her sleeve, a slight flush rising on her cheeks.

Well, it was clear what that implied.

“We can leave anytime,” I promised her. Cate might have thought she was up for this, but she’d been known to get in over her head before.

Her eyes lit up like she’d won some argument I didn’t realize we were having. But triumph faded as I started toward the beat-up old building.

“Wait! This is it?” She scanned the collection of official notices taped and stapled to the battered door, a frown deepening at the condition of the ancient theater’s crumbling brick facade. “This place looks like it should be condemned. There’s going to be an orgy here. Is that even sanitary?”

I bit back a laugh and extended my hand. “Appearances can be deceiving, princess.”

She took it, eyes still wide and uncertain. “I’m trusting you on this.”

Unlike most of the other magical enclaves in the world, the Quartier’s avenues were open for any magical creature to stroll along—no formal entrance or esoteric handshakes necessary. The magic in one’s blood served as a ticket, barring hapless humans from stumbling into our private spaces. La Porte was different. The street entrance to the theater had been built outside the Quartier’s bespelled boundary line. “The notices keep most of the humans away,” I explained to her as I reached for the door. The knob warmed in my hand, the threshold’s magic recognizing my own. “During the day, this door is locked to keep away the more curious ones.”

I pushed open the door with an ominous creak, a few thin cobwebs stirring across the top of its worn frame.

Cate didn’t budge from the cobbled sidewalk. “And at night?”

“Come inside and see.” I flourished a hand toward the dim entryway. She stared into the void, her eyes flickering over to me before she finally sighed and took a tentative step into the darkness.

“La Porte and this neighborhood have always been largely…self-governing,” I told her, choosing my words with care. “I’ve tended to keep my distance over the years out of respect. At least, that’s one of the reasons.”

A visit to the theater meant she was likely to meet the other reason, whether I liked it or not. I forced a thin smile. Even the Quartier’s cherished autonomy only existed because I allowed it—a fact they might need to be reminded of right about now. Gripping her more tightly, I led us out of the shadows and into the lion’s den.

Uncertainty prickled my skin and set my pulse thrumming as the false frontage melted into an opulent lobby. A series of gilded plaster arms lined the rich burgundy walls, outstretched to hold flaming torches, their flickering light dancing on the polished marble floors. Cate’s mouth fell open as she took it all in. “This was not what I expected.” Her gaze snagged on a large archway, draped on either side by puddling yards of thick velvet curtains fringed with gold tassels. She craned her neck toward the sounds spilling from beyond. Piano and violins drifted toward us, their swelling notes punctuated by the clatter of roulette wheels and dice and subsequent cheers and groans. She glanced up at me. “Is it a casino?”

“Theaters used to be an excuse to gamble in the crescent city,” I explained as I led her slowly toward the bustling activity in the adjoining room. “Back when the local authorities were stricter about such things.”

“And it’s still like that here today?”

The wonder filling her voice made me smile. “Vampires cling to vices like they’re life rafts on a sinking ship. Technically, this is the oldest running casino in New Orleans.”

“ Technically?”

“You won’t find it listed on any historic registers,” I murmured as we worked our way into the crowd.

She clutched my hand, her eyes widening as she drank in the gamblers, most of whom were costumed in a strange mix of the glamorous and the grotesque. A man dressed in a Victorian tailcoat turned as we passed, revealing a porcelain mask with a long, curved beak and hollow black eyes. His head tilted ever so slightly in acknowledgment before he returned to his hand of blackjack. At the next table, a woman in a flowing blue gown, a crown of silver stars twinkling atop her pinned curls, blew on a pair of dice before scattering them across the felt tabletop. Her companion, dressed in a tattered lace wedding gown smeared with something that looked suspiciously like dried blood, cheered.

Cate halted so suddenly that I accidentally yanked her arm. Alarm sounded in my veins, and I took a protective step to her side. But she was staring at a group of drunken men wearing normal clothes. “Are they…human?”

Leaning close to her ear, I murmured, “Humans are only allowed in the parts of La Porte where they can lose money.” I hesitated before adding softly, “Or blood.”

She shivered, her gaze darting around the room. “I guess that’s why vampires never give up their vices.”

“Well, we try not to,” a lilting voice cut in, “but sometimes our hands are forced.” I tensed as Baptiste greeted Cate with a smile. Like most, she wore something from the past, the brocade gown with its ruffles and layers likely from an old stage performance, her powdered wig drawing out the tawniness of her flawless complexion. Among so many humans, her pupils had dilated into black orbs that zeroed in on the woman at my side. Baptiste’s nostrils flared slightly as her smile widened. “The rumors must be true.”

Cate stared at her, her own face composing itself into a careful mask in the presence of a vampire. “Oh?”

“They say the Prince of New Orleans is under a spell.” Her eyes flicked up to mine, mischief glinting in their bottomless black. “It must be true if Lachlan Gage deigned to show his face here, and you must be the witch who cast it.”

I stiffened. I hadn’t expected a welcoming party, but this felt like a test.

“I’m not a witch.” But Cate smiled. “I’m just better in bed than his past girlfriends.”

I barely smothered a laugh as Baptiste took a step away, surveying Cate like she was seeing her for the first time. Her face tilted to mine with a silent question.

“Cate, allow me to introduce Baptiste Du Roschiers.” I gestured toward her, already wondering how Baptiste would try to inflict retribution for Cate’s glib remark.

She extended her hand, a velvet glove stretched to her elbow. “The proprietor of La Porte,” she said as Cate shook it gently, adding, “and Lach’s ex-girlfriend.”

Cate fumbled, her composure slipping slightly as Baptiste’s words sank in. “N-nice to meet you,” she stammered, drawing her hand back quickly.

I cleared my throat, stepping closer to my mate. “That was over a long time ago,” I said dismissively. “ Ancient history.”

“Watch who you call ancient, Gage,” Baptiste warned me with a smirk that told me she was more amused by this encounter than irritated. She leaned closer to Cate. “Although, I could tell you some stories about this one…”

Cate—damn her—looked more intrigued than upset by this offer. A slow smile spread across her face as she regarded Baptiste with new interest. “Now that is tempting.”

Baptiste smirked at her. “He had a rather misspent youth.”

“I don’t remember that.” I searched the room for the nearest exit.

But Baptiste snorted, shaking her head and nearly sending her wig toppling. “You might not, but fortunately for Cate, I do.” She tapped a finger against her chin as she assessed Cate. “We should have lunch.”

Cate bit her lip as if even the promise of embarrassing stories wasn’t worth the danger of eating with a vampire. At least some of her self-preservation instinct was intact. “I’ll bring Ciara.”

“Perfect.” Baptiste’s grin turned feline.

I groaned inwardly, envisioning the three of them gossiping and giggling at my expense. But old stories were the least of the damage that Baptiste could inflict. I needed to put an end to this unholy alliance before it began.

“I think that’s enough trips down memory lane for one evening.” I hooked an arm around Cate’s waist to keep her from slipping off with the vampire. “étienne invited us. Have you seen him?”

“He’s around,” Baptiste purred, eyes still gleaming with triumph. “The show is about to start. He’s probably making his way to the stage.” She nodded to Cate. “I’ll see you very soon. Enjoy the Danse.” She blew us a kiss before disappearing into the crowd.

I tugged Cate in the opposite direction, away from the casino floor and toward the deeper recesses of La Porte—the spaces reserved for magical beings.

Cate nudged me as we approached a dimly lit corridor. “You could have warned me,” she said. “Baptiste seems…interesting.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” I muttered. “Look, she might seem charming, but Baptiste is dangerous.”

“Because she’s a vampire?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Because she’s Baptiste.” It was hard to explain what I’d learned the hard way over the centuries. “And hey, if you want my humiliating stories, just ask.”

She pressed her lips into a bemused line. “So you’re going to tell me?”

“In 1838, I mistook a woman for a werewolf on Bourbon Street and tackled her.” Not the worst of the tales, but I still grimaced at the memory.

“How did you do that?” Cate asked, laughing.

“In my defense, her fur coat looked like it was trying to swallow her,” I said, smiling a bit despite myself, “and I was also very drunk.”

“That can’t be the worst story she has on you,” Cate pushed.

It wasn’t. Not by a long shot. “I’ve got more. Just stay away from her.”

I didn’t care about what Baptiste could tell her about my past. Cate and I were mated. Nothing could undo that. But I doubted that Baptiste wanted to be friends with Cate for selfless reasons; more likely, she hadn’t given up on her opium proposal. Not that she would find an ally in Cate for that cause. But despite what I’d told Cate earlier this evening, there was a reason I’d learned to keep some distance from the city’s covens. Friendliness was easily mistaken as weakness.

Cate huffed. “Oh, please. I’m a big girl—I can handle myself. Or are you just uncomfortable with the idea of me being friends with your ex?”

I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair. “It’s not that. I just… I need you to be careful, all right? Promise me you’ll keep your guard up around her.”

She studied me for a moment before nodding slowly. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to lunch with a vampire alone. I said I’d bring Ciara, remember?”

She had. Because she was clever. I needed to remember that. Pulling her against me, I kissed her forehead. “I’m a little on edge.” I paused, something thick muddying my voice. “I know you can take care of yourself.”

But even as I spoke, unease wormed through me. Baptiste’s interest in Cate was far from coincidental. I’d have to watch the vampire closely.

Very closely.

Cate inhaled sharply as we stepped into the dim hallway. The world shimmered around us, magic allowing us passage. The darkness melted into a light-soaked private room, neon and candlelight clashing in an unholy combination. A few heads turned in our direction, eyes studying Cate. I stepped closer to her, my unease deepening as they roamed over her human features.

“They’re staring at me,” she muttered, flushing as a particularly curious vampire tossed his cards on the table and blatantly ogled her as he lifted a champagne flute, the red liquid inside morphing into electric blue when it met his lips.

“Can you blame them?” I asked, doing my best to sound smug instead of concerned.

She glanced up at me. “Am I allowed here?”

I pinned my gaze on the vampire until he looked away. Wrapping a protective arm around her waist, I guided her into the bustling chaos. But more than a few pairs of eyes followed us.

“Oh my God.” She kept her voice low. Not that it mattered. Every creature in the place could hear us if they wanted. “It’s like stepping into another century.”

Her gaze flitted from one elaborately costumed creature to another. Fae adorned in shimmering gossamer gowns from the Otherworld. Vampires in velvet tailcoats and regency ball gowns.

“I feel like I just walked into a very weird Jane Austen novel,” she admitted. “It’s all very…historical.”

I chuckled, but my mood remained dark. “They’re probably just wearing old shit from the backs of their closets.”

We wandered past the tables where the magical beings of New Orleans played very different games of chance.

“Are those…?” Cate paused to study an ivory-inlaid roulette wheel.

“Runes.”

The assortment of items placed on squares across the table was mesmerizing. There were the standard poker chips but also precious, glittering gemstones. She frowned as a man laid a single strand of light across one. “What is he doing?”

“It’s a bet only the desperate make,” I whispered in her ear. “He’s offering what he has left.”

Her eyes remained glued to the strand as the wheel spun. “And what is that?”

“It’s hard to know. A bit of his soul, a memory, a moment of joy?” I shrugged.

“Those have value?”

“Don’t they?” I tried to hurry her along, but her breath caught as the ball fell.

No winner. There rarely was.

The man’s shoulders slumped as the dealer raked away the piece of him along with the rest of the offerings on the table. “Come on.”

Cate glanced behind us, worry knitting her brows as the man produced another glowing thread. “What is he—”

“Some people never learn,” I reminded her, ushering her through the crowd. We only made it a few more steps before she stopped again.

“Why are they playing with tarot cards?” she asked. “What game is that?”

“One you should never play.” I urged her forward as a werewolf sniffed the air and looked over at us with a frown. Cate noticed and froze, but I squeezed her hand reassuringly, even as I scanned the crowd for other potential threats. “Just stay close.”

But the crowd nearest us parted, étienne striding through. The room fell silent as he approached us, everyone aware that the city’s most powerful vampire was walking toward the crown prince of the Nether Court.

“You came!” he called out. “And you’re just in time for the show!”

The spell of silence broke, conversation and music resuming as if nothing had happened. But as étienne led us away from the gambling, more attention focused on us—most of which was disapproving. A vampire muttered something under his breath as we passed, too low for Cate to hear. The insult was meant for my ears.

I whirled on him, lips curling back in a snarl. The vampire paled as he backed away a step, seeking shelter among the others. But the people around him scattered, no other souls stupid enough to dare being lumped in with him.

“Hey,” Cate whispered, tugging gently on my arm. “You’re only dressed as a beast, remember?”

I stared at him until he turned and fled the room. “Not to them, Cate. Not to them.”

“I’ll make sure he’s placed on the blacklist,” étienne promised. He wagged a finger at a nearby security guard, who dashed toward us. “See that that man is escorted out and his access is revoked.” The guard nodded before rushing to perform his duties. étienne turned an apologetic smile on us. “Perhaps we can find you a more private place to watch the Danse.”

“That would be great,” I said through gritted teeth.

étienne gestured for us to follow, leading us to a paneled wall. He waved a hand, and a hidden door slid open. “Backstage, perhaps?”

I ducked to avoid hitting my head on the low frame. Cate moved closer to me as étienne led us through the dark passage, the scents of greasepaint and old wood growing as we stepped into the backstage area.

“Wait, there’s actually a theater?” she whispered, her gaze roaming over the rigging and velvet curtains.

étienne’s laughter echoed in the space. “Indeed, my dear. Vampires like spectacle as much as gambling.” He turned to me. “You may watch from the wings or find a place amongst the audience. Your choice.”

“I think we’ll stay here.” It was a relief to be away from the prying eyes.

“As you wish. If you stick to the rear wing, no one should bother you.” étienne tilted his head to Cate. “It was a pleasure to meet you. It’s been too long since Lachlan seemed happy.”

“Have I ever?” Only half of me was joking.

His eyes sparkled. “Not like this,” he murmured, looking again at Cate. “ Enjoy the show.”

He winked at me before he strode away.

Cate swallowed as she watched him go. “What kind of show is the Danse Macabre, exactly?”

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “It’s the story of life and death told by various creatures.”

Before she could ask more questions, a few stagehands rushed past. I grabbed Cate’s hand and dragged us behind the partition shielding the rearmost wing from the stage. Tucked in its shadows, we had a clear view of the actors as they took their places. We turned our attention to the stage as the curtains parted, and Cate gasped when music swelled from the orchestra pit. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

I moved behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and drawing her body against mine. Leaning down, I brought my lips to her ear. “No one can hear us.”

Her hands covered mine, gripping them tightly as the lights rose to reveal a collection of creatures in a circle, their nude bodies a mosaic of colors. They knelt around a single woman tucked into a tight ball on the floor.

The haunting music rose, and the one in the middle began to stir, stretching her arms and legs as she extended her body. She raised her face to the sky, opening her mouth in a silent scream.

Cate craned her neck to the side, her eyes flickering to me. “Birth?” she guessed, and I nodded.

She fell quiet as the actress continued to move, pushing onto her palms and knees before slowly rising on unsteady feet to take her first steps. She continued uncertainly before gaining speed and running into the wing opposite us.

The others continued to dance until she reemerged before them. They surrounded her, raising their arms above her as they began to chant.

“The witches’ blessing,” I explained in a low voice to her. “Witches are born like humans, but they are reborn before their coven when they come of age.”

I had barely finished my thought when two pale figures emerged from the wings to begin another scene. I tightened my grip on Cate’s hips, drawing her closer as I murmured in her ear.

“And now a different kind of birth,” I breathed.

The man strode toward the woman, who paused under a painted streetlamp, and beckoned her with his index finger. She hesitated before taking a single step, and he grabbed her. Cate gripped me tightly as he plunged his fangs into the woman’s neck. “Let me guess. Vampire,” she said faintly. “They’re made, right?”

“Some of them,” I said, but Cate was too wrapped up in the stage to ask more, the finer points of vampire procreation forgotten. The man stopped feeding and offered his own wrist to the woman. She drank from him before going limp in his arms.

“First death, then the thirst for blood,” I whispered as the actress arched to life, opening her mouth to reveal her own fangs. She sank them into his neck, their hips rolling in a single, shared motion.

The man yanked away, and the actors circled each other, lunging and baring their teeth. “Then the bloodlust,” I continued, my voice dropping lower. “The need to feed…and fuck.”

Cate shivered in my arms as the man lifted the woman off her feet. The other actors onstage rose again, ignoring the vampires.

“I guess this is happening,” Cate said in a strained voice as the creatures onstage paired off, licking and kissing and tasting one another as they danced to the strange, hypnotic symphony.

“I tried to warn you,” I said with a soft laugh. She elbowed me in the ribs, and I chuckled again before growing serious. “Life begets life, Cate. The Danse is a celebration of our purest and most basic instincts.”

But she frowned. “There are no fae…”

“Our world is apart from theirs.” The flesh on the back of my neck burned as if questioning my answer for her. “Most of the creatures in New Orleans think we’re nothing alike, but they’re wrong.”

Despite our long lives, we were flesh and bone, too.

“Even immortals bleed,” she whispered, a lingering note of pain in her voice.

The music changed, building in intensity as lovers untangled, shouting and crying out before flying from one another into the arms of someone new, partners changing and shifting over and over, claiming and reclaiming each other in a dizzying variety of positions.

Cate squirmed, her breathing growing shallow as their movements became more intimate and primal.

“This is the dance of life and death.” I dragged my teeth along the shell of her ear, one hand roaming upward to her breasts. “Blood and sex. Desire and lack. Control, temptation, and sin—all mixed together in one fucked-up symphony.”

I snaked a hand beneath the gown’s bodice to her corset strings.

She inhaled sharply, trying to cover the slip with a snorted “Good luck.”

“I’ve had centuries of practice, princess.” I loosened them deftly, staring down at her. Cate continued to watch the show, her chest rising in punctuated heaves as my fingers dipped to her freed breasts.

Her back bowed as I circled the pad of my thumb over a nipple.

“Tease,” she muttered. “You’ll never get through all these layers.”

Challenge delivered.

She whimpered as I abandoned her breasts, but I only grinned down at her.

“Oh, the trick isn’t getting through the layers,” I purred, hiking up her skirt and petticoats. My hand slipped between her thighs, finding the thin fabric covering her already soaked. “It’s knowing what you’re doing.” A moan escaped her lips as I slid a finger past her panties. “My, my,” I taunted. “Is watching them fuck exciting you?”

“Don’t be dense,” Cate snapped, her voice breathy.

I pulled my hand away from her slick heat and traced her thigh. “If it isn’t, my apologies…”

But she grabbed my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. “Don’t you dare stop,” she hissed.

Laughing, I nipped her ear, sliding two fingers inside her. Her body clamped around them. “Keep watching.”

I matched the pace of the scene, plunging into her with each thrust of a witch’s hips, each bite from a vampire, with every moment of witnessed pleasure. Cate rolled her hips, urging me deeper as the scene onstage reached its crescendo, until she erupted.

She sagged against me as the theater went dark, her body trembling, but I couldn’t wait any longer. The need to possess her—to claim her—consumed me like wildfire. We stumbled together behind the backdrop, deeper into the shadows. I spun her around, bracing her against a truss in the stage rigging, and crushed my mouth to hers.

Her fingers tangled in my hair as my tongue swept over hers, giving in to our own dance of life and death.

“Lach,” Cate gasped between kisses. “I need you.”

“Gods, I know,” I growled, pushing her skirt up higher. With a swift motion, I tore off her panties. Her arms hooked over my shoulders as I cupped her ass and lifted her from her feet.

Cate wrapped her legs around my waist as the sounds of a new scene began behind us.

“Hurry. We don’t know when it will be over,” Cate whispered, her eyes locked on mine.

The cruel irony of her words struck me. I’d walked our worlds for centuries before I met her, and now we had so little time left.

“We don’t,” I admitted in a hollow whisper.

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean—”

But I kissed her, sinking inside her in one smooth motion. “All that matters is this.”

We moved together in a frantic rhythm, our bodies speaking a language older than time. My memento mori stung with each thrust of my hips, pain edging my pleasure. How much longer could I escape my fate?

Cate reached up, her fingers brushing the mark before she clasped the back of my neck. Her eyes searched mine.

“I’m yours,” she breathed, as if answering my unspoken question. “For whatever time we have left.”

“Whatever time we have left,” I vowed as I drove us harder and faster toward the inevitable. The music rose, building toward the show’s unescapable conclusion, death chasing every note as it hunted. It would find us. It would find me. And when the score spiked on one final frantic note, we went over the edge together—clinging to each other like we would never let go.