Chapter Seventeen
Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop was darkand mysterious, the perfect setting for the beginning of such a fun adventure. Savannah laughed softly as a couple of locals shook their heads at the pack of crazy tourists crowding into the tavern to join the vampire hunt. She could feel Gregori inwardly wincing, the desire to dissolve and be invisible paramount in his mind, but he hung in there grimly. He turned heads with his impressive stature, the power that sat so easily on his broad shoulders. His expression was stoically impassive, the silver eyes restless, merciless, missing nothing.
Within the bar’s darkened interior, the peculiar night vision their species had gave them an advantage. Gary flanked them, astonished at how many tourists actually went on these hunts. Savannah shot him a glare. “We’re here to have fun, Gary. Don’t start acting like Gregori on me. One grump raining on my parade is enough.”
Gary leaned close. “If you wouldn’t read people’s thoughts all the time, snoop, you might not get so bent out of shape.”
“I was not reading your thoughts,” Savannah objected with an injured expression, her lush mouth in a frankly sexy pout. “It was written all over your face.”
Gregori was definitely having a hard time. Carpathian males rarely allowed other men near their lifemates, certainly not unattached males. He hated the press of bodies. Savannah attracted men the way bees went for honey. Heads turned, and hot gazes followed her progress as they wound their way through the throng toward the back room of the building. Savannah exuded steam. Even in a room filled with bodies, so many that there was really nowhere to sit, Savannah made men feel as if she was the only one there. Dimly lit, with flickering candles, the room held a faint trace of mystery, and she was part of that.
It was inevitable that someone would recognize her; it always happened. Gregori was surprised the press hadn’t gotten wind that she was somewhere in the city and had every tourist spot staked out waiting for her. He gave a little sigh as the first wave of fans swarmed them, pressing close to Savannah, wanting to get near her. Gregori instinctively placed his solid frame between her and the crowd. You are going to start a riot.
She signed several autographs, a hard enough feat with Gregori acting like her bodyguard. Gary walled her in from the other side, recognizing the menacing glitter in the cold silver of Gregori’s eyes. Savannah paid no attention to the two of them; instead, she was sweet and friendly and entered into conversations with people.
When their guide entered, a faint hush followed him. He was impressive, with his long, thick braid, his walking stick, and his dramatic appearance. Gregori raised an eyebrow at Savannah, but her fascinated gaze was on their host. He lit a candle, held his audience for a moment in a theatrical pause, then delivered a warning about the dangerous journey they would be undertaking. He made it clear that drinkers weren’t welcome and emphasized that it was not recommended that small children go on the tour.
He’s good, this guy,Savannah whispered softly in Gregori’s mind. Hegrabs everyone right away and holds them. Good showmanship.
He is a fake.
This isn’t meant to be real, Gregori,she scolded it is fun. Everyone is here to have a good time. If you prefer not to go, I can meet you later. It isn’t as f it’s really dangerous. We aren’t going to meet any real vampires.
Like hell I will meet you later. If I left your side, every man in the room would be swarming around you.
Gregori knew the moment the two society members entered Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop. He felt the dark compulsion of the kill, knew they were searching for a likely target. He scanned the darkened interior of the bar. The vampire was alive and well, and his dark army was spreading out to do his bidding. No one else could have known they would be here. He sighed. He had not realized until that moment how important a night out for Savannah was to him. A single night without incident.
He followed the group through the door, dropping money into the outstretched hand as he did so. Savannah was close to him, his hand on the small of her back. Three teenage boys were flirting outrageously with her, and her laughter turned heads and earned her the sudden attention of their host and the two society members.
Gregori watched them shift into position, trying to work their way through the crowd to her side, but it was impossible. He concentrated on them, dulling the compulsion, fogging their thoughts so that they found themselves entering into the spirit of the hunt Savannah ended up with a sharpened stake and a conspirator’s grin from a fellow showman.
They started walking through the streets at a brisk pace, and as they did so, the crowd stretched out into a long line. Their guide stopped at a home, perched on a fence, and began a dramatic tale of love and murder within. He wove the story brilliantly, putting in enough truth mixed with melodrama to make it credible. Savannah’s blue eyes were shining. As the crowd moved forward to follow the swirling cape of the fast-paced host, she bent down to fiddle with the strap of her shoe. Gregori felt her slip away from him and turned to wait for her.
Savannah smiled at him, that sexy, mysterious smile that hardened his body and tripped little bombs off in his head. Her hair slid over her shoulder in a fall of cascading silk. The sight of her literally took his breath away. By the time she fixed her shoe, the two society members were right beside her. Savannah straightened, and that infuriating smile curved her soft mouth. “Where are you two from?” Her voice was beautiful and pure, a blend of seduction and music. “I’m Savannah Dubrinsky. Isn’t this fun?”
They felt her impact immediately, the mesmerizing snare. Gregori heard their hearts slam unexpectedly, then begin to race. Her blue eyes caught and held their gazes, trapping them in the silver-star centers. “Randall Smith,” the shorter of the two answered eagerly. “I moved here several months ago from Florida. This is John Perkins. He’s originally from Florida also.”
“Did you come here for Mardi Gras and just stay for the fun?” Savannah inquired.
What the hell do you think you are doing?Mon Dieu, mafemme, you are enough to drive me crazy. I forbid this.
Savannah fell into step between the two men easily, her enormous eyes wide with interest. Gregori felt the beast lifting its head, roaring for release. The red haze spread, and hunger beat at him.
“We came here to help out a friend of ours,” Randall admitted. He began rubbing his suddenly pounding temples. His head was hurting and felt as if it might shatter.
Savannah leaned in closer, her eyes holding his captive. The crowd had once more stopped while their host began his tale of ghosts and unexplained mysteries. His voice cast a spell over the group, adding to the appeal of the story, to the haunting illusion of the night. Randall felt as if he were drowning in her eyes, as if she had trapped him forever in the illuminating starlight. He wanted to give her anything, everything. His head said no, but his wildly beating heart and raging soul needed to confess his every thought to her.
“We belong to a secret society,” he whispered softly, his voice so low that only the two Carpathians could possibly hear. He didn’t want his partner to know he was betraying the members. There was a curious buzzing in his head, like a swarm of bees. He broke out in a sweat.
Savannah touched him lightly, a brushing of fingers across his arm. Curiously, she brought a refreshing breeze with that touch, one that cleared his head for a moment so that the oppressive pain lightened. Her smile sent a shiver of excitement through him, of such desire and need that he wanted to fall at her feet. “How exciting. Is it dangerous?” She tilted her head, an innocent seductress luring him closer and closer.