Page 92

Lucien

L uc sipped his neat whiskey carefully. Not bad for a desert dive bar. He took a healthier swallow and perused the horrendous art decorating the darkly painted walls.

Was that a portrait of a horse in a tutu? Christ Almighty.

He easily ignored the looks being thrown his way by the other patrons.

He’d chosen a dimly lit corner booth on purpose, but the stares still came in.

He wasn’t surprised. Half of them were from people who wanted to fuck him—an immodest assessment but an accurate one, in his experience—and the other half were probably from people who thought he looked like a complete ass wearing sunglasses indoors after nightfall.

He definitely did look like an ass. But he also wasn’t taking them off anytime soon. After all, he didn’t want to scare off his desert flower before the young man even had a chance to sit down.

If his desert flower even showed up, that was. Luc was hoping very much that he would so he wouldn’t have to hunt the human down like a horrific creep. He was determined to make a better impression this time.

He could admit he hadn’t been at his best the night before. Some might even say he’d frozen completely after the stranger’s kiss. Unable to move, unable to speak, barely even able to hear the young man’s words over the roars of the monster in his own head.

Our mate. He’s our mate. We found him. We’ll take him. We’ll turn him. All ours.

Lord above, it had been deafening, that roar, starting from the moment the green-haired youth had approached close enough for Luc to breathe him in, and not ending until well after Luc had put multiple city blocks between them.

All day long it had been a struggle, the monster’s docility at the end of the previous night apparently only temporary.

It had decided in the morning it wanted to find their flower immediately.

Hunt him down. Stake their claim. It wanted to take him as theirs.

And it had required every bit of restraint in Luc to fight that urge.

He deserved a gold fucking medal for that restraint.

He’d continued to resist the monster’s urging. We’ll scare him. He’s young and human. He’ll hate us. He needs to be assimilated. He needs to be…courted. And we could be wrong. We’ve been wrong before.

The monster had scoffed at that last part, with good reason.

It had never mistaken Victoria for their mate.

It had been…ambivalent, to say the least. It had liked the smell and taste of her well enough, but it had never clamored for her.

Never truly craved her. Luc had thought that would change once she turned, once she became a vampire and solidified the bond.

But then, she never had.

She’d chosen death over eternal life with him. Had finally revealed the fear she’d always had of him and his kind. Of becoming like him.

Luc drained the rest of his whiskey in a gulp, wishing it were easier for his unnatural body to feel the effects. But he’d need the bartender to leave the bottle on the table for that. Not a good look for a first…date? Scheduled encounter with a mysterious stranger?

Luc wouldn’t freeze this time. And he wouldn’t scare the young man off either. He’d be…charming. He’d be patient. He’d learn everything he could about this little desert flower he’d found.

He wouldn’t repeat old mistakes.

Luc set his glass down and swept a hand through his hair.

It was back to a respectable length, shorn shorter on the sides than on top.

He’d compelled a stylist at the recommended hair salon to give him an appointment that morning, baring his teeth when the other customer waiting had raised a fuss.

His facial hair was also back to its stylish hint of stubble.

Luc held his breath as the scent of cinnamon wafted into the bar.

Finally.

He watched with a predator’s intensity as the young man from the night before entered, drinking in the sight like it was cool water on a hot day.

The human was almost equal in height to Luc’s own stature, probably an inch or so above six feet.

A little skinny, perhaps, but there was a wiry strength evident in his limbs. He definitely wasn’t delicate.

But he was…compelling.

Luc kept his gaze fixed as the human approached the bar, greeting the female bartender with familiar warmth.

Luc waited at his table for the young man to order his drink. See? He could be patient.

He tapped his finger on the table.

So fucking patient.

An eternity or three later and his human was arriving in the corner, setting a bottle of beer on the table. That smile—that fucking smile —lit up again as the young man sat down. “You showed up,” he said, giving Luc an appreciative once-over.

“I did.” Luc’s answer came out in a low growl. He watched in fascination as the youth’s dark eyes widened at the sound of it.

“And he speaks,” the man said, his voice coming out a little breathless.

“Your name, if you please,” Luc demanded.

The youth—he couldn’t have been much older than twenty, although clearly he was old enough to drink—cocked his head, brushing a lock of green hair out of one eye. Luc noted that he had rings on his fingers and the piercings in his ears were filled with little black stones. “Yours first.”

Luc smirked at the demand. “Lucien Volaire. You can call me Luc, if you like.”

“Luc. Lucien. Luc.” The young man repeated his name, rolling the syllables in his mouth as if taste testing them.

Luc liked hearing his name from those red lips. Maybe a little too much. He cleared his throat. “And yours?”

Slender fingers toyed with the beer-bottle cap. “Jamie. Jamie Hernandez.”

“Jamie,” Luc mused. It suited him. “What did you mean when you said you’d been waiting for me, Jamie?”

A mischievous glint entered Jamie’s eyes. “Exactly what it sounded like.”

“Explain,” Luc demanded gruffly. So much for being charming. So far he was just barking out orders, like Roman on one of his moodier days. But he needed to know.

Jamie pursed his lips, studying Luc’s face. “Take off the sunglasses first.”

Luc narrowed his eyes, hidden behind the dark lenses. “Why?”

Jamie gave him a look like he was wasting both their time asking pointless questions. “Because I want to see your eyes again.”

“Why?”

“Because even knowing what they’ll look like, I want to see them for myself.”

Luc tensed. Even knowing what they’ll look like? What did that mean? Luc had never run into this human before; he was sure of it. He would remember if he had.

He would remember every single second of it.

Luc raised a hand and lifted off the sunglasses, keeping his eyes on Jamie as he did. The youth sucked in a sharp breath at the reveal, but there was no hint of fear or disgust in his dark gaze. He only smiled that charming, open smile. “There he is.” He bit into his lower lip. “Man, you’re a fox.”

Huh. “You’re not frightened.”

Jamie shot him an exasperated look. “Listen, I don’t care about the eyes. Or the fangs, for that matter. I know what you are.” He shrugged. “At least, I think I do.”

Luc resisted the urge to flip the table in frustration. “ Explain ,” he gritted out. “Please.”

Jamie took a swig of beer, seemingly for courage, then set the bottle down and met Luc’s gaze head-on. “I get visions. And I’ve been getting them of you. For years.”

Luc cocked his head. “You have the Sight?”

Jamie flicked at his bottle cap. “Whatever you want to call it. But I get visions of the future sometimes. Usually in dreams, but it’s been known to happen when I’m awake.”

Oh, now that was interesting. Very interesting. Luc had met someone like that before, a very long time ago. They hadn’t seen the future, but they’d been able to glimpse into a person’s past with a touch. There were supposedly other humans out there with different types of gifts beyond the norm.

Their blood was supposed to be incredibly delicious.

Let’s take a taste and find out , his monster wheedled. Luc ignored it. “You’re a seer.”

Jamie shrugged. “And you’re a vampire. Or some other monster I don’t have a name for yet.”

Luc was at a loss. All his plans for easing Jamie in, for going slow, for hiding the monster within—and here Jamie already knew Luc wasn’t human.

Had known it before they’d even met. Before Luc could fully register that idea, the bartender approached with two whiskeys.

She smiled at them both as she dropped them off.

“You all looked like you could use these.”

Jamie turned his smile to her. “Thanks, Monique.”

Luc shifted, barely containing a surly growl. He wanted that smile focused back on himself; he didn’t want it given to anyone else. That smile was his. He cleared his throat, and Monique caught his eyes, her hand jostling the whiskey out of its glass in her surprise. “Whoa.”

Jamie glanced between them, then gave Luc a cheeky grin. “Oh, the contacts? He’s an extra in a play. It’s a real goth production. Demons and witches and shit.”

“Oh, dang.” She gave Luc an appraising look. “That’s pretty cool. Gotta love the arts, man.” She tossed them both a sardonic salute and turned back to the bar.

Luc was frozen again, wondering what exactly had just happened. He’d been outed as a…thespian?

Jamie laughed in delight at the look on Luc’s face, then slammed back his shot of whiskey, gesturing for Luc to do the same. “Come home with me, vampire. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

It was a quaint little house, painted a deep orange, with sharp little stabby plants in every corner. Luc eyed one particular cactus at the front gate, an impressive specimen.

Jamie looked from it to him. “You like my saguaro?”

“It’s quite…phallic.”

Jamie laughed. He had a way of doing that with his whole person, throwing his head back, chest shaking. Luc rarely saw someone so…sincere…with their reactions. So unstudied.

“We didn’t have to go far,” Luc remarked as they entered the little house. They’d barely walked two blocks to get there.