Fangs for Nothing

made him think maybe he needed to reevaluate his priorities. But he didn’t really want to discuss that with Stella over the phone. “Are you coming home?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know. I just need to talk.” Now that sounded manly. Not.

“Okay.” Stella sounded mystified. “Be there in a minute.”

Johnny sighed and went back into the house that he had left wide open. “Raven?” he called. But when he got to the courtyard there was no sign of him, or in the house. “Whatever.”

He was sinking on the couch and flicking on the TV when Stella came in the front door. “Hey.”

“Hey. Where’s Wyatt?”

“He’s with Drake. So what’s going on with you? Two nights ago you were acting like Lizette was just some annoying person sent from Paris to mess with you.” Stella dropped her messenger bag on the coffee table, and then sat down next to it. “Then at the wedding you were dancing up a storm with her, and now you’re acting like your life is over because she left. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? To get her out of your hair?”

She made it sound like he was a tool. “It’s not that simple. I mean, of course I wanted her to go away initially. She froze my bank account and wouldn’t let me in my apartment. But then we got drunk and woke up handcuffed together, and I don’t know, we had a good time together.” Both in clothes and out.

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is she left!”

“No, that is the consequence of the problem. Why did she leave?”

Johnny shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “Because she thinks I’m an immature commitment-phobe.”

“She said that?” Stella asked in astonishment. “I mean, it’s true, but it was kind of rude to just throw it out there like that.”

“No, she didn’t put it like that. She said that I don’t know how to follow the rules or take things seriously, that I don’t take responsibility for my actions. She’s pissed about Benny knowing the truth about us.” He put his feet on the coffee table and sulked.

“Well, what is it you want?”

That was easy. “I want to get to know her better, but it scares me. I’ll never be good enough for her and I can’t promise that I can handle eternity without fucking it up.”

His sister stared at him so long he wanted to throw a pillow at her. “What?”

“I’m just trying to reconcile the fact that you clearly dig this woman enough to want to attempt a genuine relationship. After one night. I don’t think that’s ever happened to you before.”

Yeah, well. Maybe because it sucked.

“I guess it had to happen sooner or later.”

“The thing is, Johnny, why do you always look at every woman and think it has to be either a hookup or eternity? Why can’t there be an in-between?”

That was a good question. One he had honestly never asked himself. “I don’t know. I guess because it seems like, being a vampire, a relationship is going to go on for a really long time. That’s intense.”

“There is such a thing as just dating, getting to know each other. Having fun, being monogamous, but not getting married.”

“I suppose some people do that.” But it seemed like for most people it was hard to stay content in that middle ground. “But Lizette was with some guy for a hundred years. That’s only a couple of years less than I’ve been alive. She can commit the shit out of a relationship. How can I compete with that?”

“You’re assuming that she wants another few centuries with someone. Maybe she would like to just ease into it this time around.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He felt more mature already. Look at how easily he had admitted his sister could be right. “But none of it really matters. She’s going back to Oh La La Land and that will be the end of it.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to give up?” Her expression was one of clear disapproval.

“What am I supposed to do? Chase her down? Tackle her?” His handcuffs rattled as he asked the question, waving his hand around.

“You could start by getting your name taken off the Dead List. Do everything she wanted you to without prompting from her. Find out what really happened last night. I have a feeling she’s the kind of woman who will appreciate the truth, even if it’s unpleasant.”

“You’re right.” Stella was right. There it was again. He tried to shake the feeling of melancholy. “Man, this is hard work. It was easier to fake my death.”

“Keep that up and I’ll arrange for your real death.”

He didn’t believe her for one second.

He did, however, believe that if he wasn’t careful, Lizette might decide to keep him on the Dead List after all.

In fact, she just might put the whole lot of them on the list.

Then none of them would exist.

Which would be a problem.

Chapter Sixteen PARTY OF FIVE

JOSIE Lynn knew she should have been totally mortified to walk out of a bedroom where she’d just made love to a man she barely knew in the bed of a couple she knew even less, but aside from being a little sheepish, she simply felt good.

Okay, good was an understatement. She felt amazing, giddy, like she was walking on air. She knew that by all appearances she’d just found herself involved with a man who was the stereotype of all things she’d sworn to herself she’d avoid. Sexy, too charming for his own good, wicked in bed, and a Bourbon Street guitarist to boot. But she found herself trusting him.

Her—trusting a man. She never thought she’d say that. Or at least not for a good long time. But something about Drake made her believe.

She followed Drake out of his roommates’ room and across the hallway to his room. They’d been so close to making love in the right room, she smiled to herself at the ludicrousness of what they’d just done. The liberating wildness and excitement of what they’d done. She hadn’t felt this free and happy in months—honestly, maybe not for years.

“Are you okay?” Drake asked as he crossed his room, which now that she was in, she could tell was his. It was as rakish as he was, with a huge burgundy velvet canopied bed covered in black silk sheets and tons of pillows. A guitar lay on the bed. And he had two armoires that looked expensive and antique. Like the bed.

“I’m great,” she assured him, stepping farther into the room as he went straight to one of the armoires. While he looked for clothes, she wandered around, running her hands over his finely made furniture, torn between admiring that and Drake’s finely made rear end.

“All of this furniture looks old,” she said.

He gave the room a cursory glance, then returned to rummaging through his clothing. “It is. Most of it has been in my family for years.”

She touched the velvet of the bed’s canopy. There was an almost otherworldliness to the pieces. Like it all came from another time, which of course it had. But she was also reminded of how Drake could have moments where he seemed like he came from another time, too. There was a gallantness to him. And a strangely proper way of talking. And even when they’d been having sex up against a door, she sensed something almost proper—or elegant—or something, about him.

Maybe she’d just never met anyone like him before. She glanced over at him, standing there totally naked, still managing to look regal.

No, she’d definitely never met anyone like him before. Katie and Stella said he’d come from a privileged background. For a moment, a rush of insecurity filled her. What did she know about privilege? Nothing. She was just a bayou girl trying to make something of herself. And failing thus far.