Unbound

The girl took him down an alley, walking just as quickly as before, even though he had a hard time seeing where they were going. He tripped on something—a bottle, probably—but she just tugged on his arm at the same moment, keeping him upright.

“Hey.” He grinned. “Nice reflexes.”

She muttered something he didn’t understand, and not just because he was drunk.

“Is that French?” Eric asked.

Her dark hair swung as she glanced back at him. “Oui. Yes.”

“Cool.”

She led him up a fire escape at the end of the alley, opened an unlocked door at the landing, and propelled him inside. The lights were off, wherever they were, but this must be her place. She locked it behind him and then her smile grew wider.

“I am going to eat you,” she said in a sexy, accented purr that made him even harder.

Eric grabbed her, squeezing that beautiful ass while he kissed her. She opened her mouth, letting his tongue explore inside while he ground himself against her. Rubber’s in my back pocket, Eric reminded himself. A chick this easy might have something.

She put her arms around his neck, holding on to him like she was desperate for it. Eric fumbled with the front of his pants. Right here, right now worked for him, too.

He’d gotten his pants unzipped and his hands up her short skirt, when she clamped down on his tongue with her teeth. And yanked her head back.

Eric screamed, staring in horror at the blood around her mouth when she smiled at him again. His tongue throbbed like it was on fire.

“Crazy bitch,” he tried to say, but it came out sounding like “’aaazy ’itch.” Blood was still pouring from his tongue, and when he felt the tip of it…there wasn’t one anymore.

“You fucking whore!” Eric spat, not caring if she understood the garbled words or not. His fist came up—and then he was falling end over end, until he reached the bottom with a thud that made his head feel like it had split.

For a stunned second, Eric lay there. Stairs, it occurred to him. Bitch pushed me down a flight of stairs. He felt the first stirrings of fear mixing with his anger.

A light flicked on in the room and Eric jerked, blinking for a minute at the brightness before the images focused.

There was a tall, thin man standing over a mannequin. He looked like he was assembling it, since its leg was on the ground next to the man and its arm was in two pieces farther away. Then the mannequin’s head turned. Its eyes blinked, mouth opened…

Eric screamed, trying to scramble to his feet, but a scalding pain in his leg prevented him. The tall man ignored Eric’s screams and frantic attempts to back away as he gave an inquiring glance up the stairs.

“Mon amour, I was getting worried.”

The girl appeared at the top of the stairs. “Why? No one knows we’re here.”

Eric managed to stand. Agony shot up his leg even though he had most of his weight on the other one.

“Don’t either of you fuckin’ touch me,” he gasped, looking around for something, anything, to use to fight them off.

The girl smiled as she came down the stairs. With his blood still around her mouth, it looked more like a hideous leer.

“Touch you? Mon cher, I already told you—I am going to eat you.”

1

Bones didn’t spare a glance around as he strode rapidly up the streets of the French Quarter. Scents assailed him; countless perfumes, body odor from all manners of hygiene, food cooking—or rotting in the trash. Centuries of decadence had given the Quarter a unique, permanent stench no vampire could completely ignore.

A close second to the cacophony of scents was sound. Music, laughter, shouts, and conversations compounded into a constant white noise.

As he rounded a corner, Bones wondered again why Marie had summoned him. He didn’t have to come; he wasn’t under her line, so he owed her no loyalty. But when the queen of New Orleans called, Bones answered. For starters, he respected Marie. And he reckoned his head wouldn’t enjoy sitting atop his shoulders much longer if he snubbed her.

Though chances were, what Marie wanted would involve Bones killing someone.

He had just rounded another corner when instinct told him he was being watched. He jerked to the side—and felt searing pain slam into his back in the next instant. Bones whirled, knocking people over to dart into the nearest door. With his back safely to a wall and the only entrance in clear view, Bones looked down at his chest.

An arrow protruded, its broad head hooked on three sides where it had punched through his chest. The shaft was still sticking out of his back. He touched the bloodied tip and swore.

Silver. Two inches lower and it would have gone through his heart, ending his life the permanent way.

“Hey, buddy,” someone called out. “You okay?”

“Capital,” Bones bit off. He looked around and realized he’d stumbled into a bar. The patrons were goggling at his chest.