“Oh, Mel,” she speaks quietly, touching my arm. “You can’t give up. I won’t let you give up.”

“Didn’t you hear what they said?” My voice has switched from rage to intense sadness. “The old woman said there’s no cure, and if a voodoo queen says there’s no cure—”

“Then Mariska promised to find one.” Elaine’s voice is strong. “She’s going to do it, I can tell. I read her thoughts, and she’s passionate about helping you.”

The last bit is true, at least. I’d felt the intensity of the girl’s commitment. It confused me. “Why?” My voice is soft. “What makes her want to help me so much? She doesn’t even know me.”

Standing, Elaine goes to the closet and slides hangers across the brass bar. “She’s not psychic, but she has gifts. She could tell you had been forced against your will. Her sense of justice is incredible.”

“She’s very generous.”

Elaine turns to face me, and her shoulders drop. “If you could only see yourself. The reality of this hangs on you so cruelly. Still, you’re so clearly a good person.”

“I’m not so good,” I mutter. “Every day, I feel the evil growing inside me. Every day it’s harder to fight.”

“You can, and we will! We’re going to wait for Mariska, and in the meantime we’re going out. We’ll have drinks, laugh and dance, and then we’ll come back here and sleep.”

For a moment I think about her words. I weigh the options of lying in bed versus going out, forgetting these dismal circumstances for one more night. It can’t get any worse.

With a deep inhale, I find the strength in me to rise, to force a smile. “If you say so. I can’t sleep anyway.”

“That’s the spirit!” She pulls out a strapless, ruched-top dress made of thin rayon and hands it to me. “I’ll wear mine, and we’ll head over to Bourbon Street. Tomorrow will be a new day with new answers. I promise.”

I stand and take the dress, hoping with everything in me she’s right, yet at the same time, I hear his whispered laughter in my head.

Enjoy it while you can.

5

Tasting Derek

Patrick swears at his wounds while I nurse my scotch. “Fucking god damned motherfucking blood suckers.” I watch him wince as he binds the gaping slice of a vampire bite on his forearm. “Their saliva burns like acid.”

“You’ll be healed in less than an hour,” I mutter, sipping the amber liquid. “You’re lucky you’re immune. Nothing more to worry about.”

“You’re lucky you’re immune.”

“It isn’t the first time.” I take another pull off my glass of scotch. It’s taking longer than usual for me to calm down after a hunt. “I’m only immune to their hypnosis. If I hadn’t brought that gun…”

My partner’s lips press into a tight line. “We need Stuart here.”

I nod. I’d already thought of that. “He’ll be here tomorrow.” That’s how it is with Stuart and me. I call, he appears, and vice versa. “Did you have any idea what we were walking into?”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” Patrick isn’t one for sarcasm, and I only laugh.

“Then we really are a couple of lucky sons of bitches.”

“Damn straight.”

An icy chill passes down my spine at how wrong tonight could have gone. It isn’t often an unprepared vampire hunter and a weredog—even a young, strong shifter like Patrick—walk into a nest of vampires and make it out with only a scratch. I’m wrestling a mixture of fatigue, relief, and uncanny amusement.

“We are so fucking lucky.” I exhale, rubbing my hands over my face.

“Sazerac,” Patrick says to the bartender. We’re sitting at the bar in Razoo’s off Bourbon Street, and my partner is jumpy. I can’t stop drumming my fingers on the shiny wood in front of me.

“What exactly did you read in Sloan’s journal?” At this point it doesn’t really matter. Still, I’m curious, passing the time, waiting for us to come down. I can’t shake the image of that nightmarish clown-face, that grinning undead fucker coming down the wall at me headfirst like a giant fucking lizard. Shit.

“Nothing like what we encountered.” Patrick shakes his head, taking a sip of his cocktail. “Sloan’s notes said ‘an old one with answers’ lives in the crypt in Lafayette cemetery. It said if we went with flowers, played the role of gracious mourners, he’d talk to us.”

“Looks like he got bored with gracious mourners. Decided to turn a few.”

“No shit.”

Razoo’s is also a karaoke bar, and a young south Asian-looking woman approaching the mic draws my attention. She’s sexy with long, wavy black hair. I try to let her swaying and singing ease my mood, but it isn’t working. Her dark eyes only make me yearn for sapphire blue. I want Melissa. I want to burn off this excess energy in her arms.

“We should’ve stayed close tonight, done more research.” I should’ve been at Mr. B’s.

“That sounds like you’re second-guessing me.” Patrick’s itching for a fight, but I’m not interested.

“I’m not,” I answer honestly. “Just post-mortem.”

A group of drunken college kids stumble through the doors, laughing and adding to the crowd coming in off of Bourbon Street. It’s so late in the evening, I have no reason to believe anyone I’d want to see might come here. Melissa would be with her friend Elaine, most likely dining at Brennan’s or Galatoire’s, then heading back to her hotel to sleep, her beautiful dark waves spread out over her pillow.

“Fucking no way.” Patrick’s hiss cuts through my distraction. “It can’t be.”

Snapping to attention, I can’t help wondering if our friends are back. “What is it?”

He doesn’t answer, and I follow the line of his sight to the door. A beautiful blonde stands just inside, off the street. She seems a little lost, as if she’s looking for someone or trying to decide if she’ll stay.

I’m ready to guess she’ll leave, but her eyes move as if directed by an invisible guide directly to my partner.

I turn and look at him as well. His posture is as confident and strong as ever, but his expression is stunned. He’s trying to play it off, but something is happening to him.

“Do you know her?”

“No.” He looks down at the bar, his voice barely controlled.

“She’s headed in our direction.” Looking up, I see the confident smile on her lips. It’s as if she’s aware of her power over him. “You sure you’ve never—”

“It’s Patrick, right?” Her tone is happy, like she’s found something she lost.

My partner straightens, facing her, and though I’ve never seen it before, I know exactly what’s happening.

“Yes,” he says in a husky voice. “Elaine?”

“Yes!” Her green eyes sparkle, and she touches his arm. His entire body stills at her caress. “We were walking by, and I knew you were here.”

She laughs, but he only smiles.

Fuck me, Patrick’s imprinting. If I thought we needed Stuart before, we sure as hell need him now. I have no idea how finding his mate is going to impact his performance.

As much as I’ve wanted this to happen, it irritates the shit out of me it’s happening now, until I glance up toward the entrance and my entire body snaps to attention. She’s there, just outside the door, watching this woman with my partner. Her brow is lined in frustration, as if she can’t enter—or she doesn’t want to.

“Melissa…” The word is a whisper on my lips, and I’m on my feet.

Elaine and Patrick are talking. He’s turning on all the charm, and she’s falling for it hard—or maybe she’s already fallen for him, and all his charms are sweet icing on the cake. She sure walked into this bar and straight to him as if she knew full well the strange transformation happening in his mind.

None of it matters. I’m consumed by the discovery of Melissa. She sees me. Her sapphire eyes hold me, and a mixture of deep longing and cautious optimism moves through me.