Coveted (Gwen Sparks #3)

Coveted (Gwen Sparks #3) Page 36

I took a deep breath to keep my temper under control. “Says the man acting like a spoiled child.”

Another drink, this time empting the glass and reaching for a refill. “Did you come out here to argue with me?”

I eyed his glass, stepping forward and snapping it out of his hands. He glared while I took a drink. The alcohol left a fiery path as it slid down my throat. I coughed, bringing my hand to my mouth. What the hell was that stuff made out of—acid?

“I came out here to have a rational discussion, to try and make you understand.”

Dorian stood, walking over to me. I held my breath as he moved closer. My eyes moved from his and down to his mouth. A tremor ran through my body when he walked around and stood at my back. Every one of my muscles was strung tight, ready to snap like a rubber band.

“I do understand.” His breath was hot against my neck. “You’re punishing me for what Aiden did.” Dorian brushed my hair to the side, his mouth coming so close to my neck the anticipation to feel his lips on my skin was overwhelming. I waited.

And waited some more.

When I heard his retreating footsteps I wanted to scream. He walked into the kitchen, taking a new glass from the cabinet and filling it with another dark colored liquid. “I get it; you’re all for fooling around but at the first sign of commitment you tuck tail and run. Whatever you need to do to get over whatever it is you’re going through.” He shrugged. “But you’ll have to do it with someone else. I’m not your guy.”

If words could crush a person, then his had just left me in a million pieces. I felt small and worthless—cheap. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. All I could do was stare across the living room at the man who’d just destroyed me. He kept his focus on his glass, unwilling to observe his destruction.

Finally my body unfroze. I brought the glass in my hand to my lips and swallowed every last drop of the scorching scotch, welcoming the numbing burn. Setting the cup down, I headed toward the hallway but stopped before I reached it.

“You know, for someone who thinks he knows everything, you’re unbelievably imprudent, and one of the biggest hypocrites I’ve ever met.” I took a deep breath. “The difference between you and me, Dorian, is that I cared for you. Can you say as much for the women you’ve screwed?”

He looked over, his anger fading and regret taking its place. I didn’t wait to hear what else he had to say; I headed back to the bedroom ready to lose myself, and this conversation, to sleep.

Chapter Twenty

I stayed in bed almost all day. I know that wasn’t courageous, but sometimes a girl needs some downtime. And after a good night’s sleep and time to think about my argument with Dorian, I was fine. When harsh words are exchanged it always hurts a little but I was mature enough to not dwell. And what was the argument really over? Dorian wanted to commit to me. He may have gone about it the wrong way, but there were worse things. We had never sat down and discussed our feelings. Hell, up until a few days ago I wasn’t even aware Dorian was capable of such things. And I wouldn’t allow my pride to shove all of the blame onto him. I didn’t exactly handle our bizarre relationship with grace either.

Dragging myself out of bed, I grabbed a handful of clothes and headed to the bathroom. I’d done enough sulking for a lifetime. And still had to deal with a group of rogues, the VC and a pissed off witch.

After I showered and dressed, I made my way to the living room. Grabbing my boots, I sat down and slipped them on. It was just after five in the evening and I was starving. I’d missed a lot of meals in the past week. My nerves made me lose my appetite, but it was slowly coming back.

Dorian was nowhere to be found, and hadn’t bothered me all day. And that was okay with me. We both needed some space; time to cool off and get back on track. I had forgotten my sole purpose was to track and take down Holly, instead of dealing with Aiden and Dorian. They were now both on the backburner, not to be visited until I figured out a way to handle Holly and the VC.

The dagger’s box was sitting on the bookshelf, looking harmless to those who didn’t know better. Lifting the lid, I traced my fingertips over the cool steel and down and over the exquisite jewels. I curled my fingers around the hilt and tucked it into the safety of my jacket. If I was going out by myself then I sure as hell wasn’t going unprotected.

Once I was happy that the knife was secure, I closed the box and headed down the stairs. It was sunny again, the thunderstorms moving on. Bourbon Street was full like usual. The surrounding restaurants scented the air, causing my stomach to growl in response. Food would have to wait until after I visited the voodoo shop. As I headed down the tourist-filled street, my eyes landed on the surrounding people. Letting my power uncurl, I stretched it out, searching their souls for death. Each person came back clean, which wasn’t surprising. Murder wasn’t a common thing. Still, I released my spirit walker powers, connecting with each soul that passed me. After ten minutes of getting no response, the icy coldness of death struck me. It reacted to my power, weaving and curling around me like a frozen wisp. My eyes searched out the culprit, afraid I’d find black eyes and a dagger tattoo. There were too many people, too many souls passing beside me to single out just one. I bit my lip, my eyes crinkling in concentration. It was getting stronger the more I walked, hitting my bones and consuming me like an avalanche. I stifled a shiver, reaching into my jacket with one hand. I curled my fingers around the dagger’s handle, ready to strike should the guilty person be a rogue.

My heart raced like a prized horse. My body tensed and readied to react. I moved through the crowded sidewalk like a wild woman, shoving and cutting people off. Their pissed-off comments didn’t faze me. I caught site of the voodoo shop across the street, but needed to follow the pull of death. I had to find out who was producing such a strong signal. Whoever they were, they were a beacon to my spirit walker self. They had killed a lot of people. The blood of their victims stained their soul and called to me, alerting me to their heinous crimes.

I shoved through the last throng of people and stopped, my eyes traveling this way and that, and landing on a man leaning against a brick wall. He wore a baseball cap, pulled low over his face to hide his identity. His head was turned slightly—his profile the most I could see. As the people passed by him I could tell his eyes tracked their movement. My fingers tightened around the hilt of my concealed dagger, itching to yank it from my jacket.

I took a step forward, my body stuck in a frozen fury. Murderer, the spirit walker in me whispered accusingly. His victims called to me, begging for retribution. And I was ready to deliver it. Taking another step, my eyes glued to the man, I pulled my arm back to reveal the dagger. Just before I was able to strike, the man turned to look at me. He had known I was there all along, I could sense it. A valley of deep wrinkles lined his face, his blue eyes watching me with amusement.

Something tugged at my subconscious, trying to lure my attention away from the man. I mentally shrugged it off, willing my eyes to stay on the murderer. A soft whisper of music filled my ears, its call beckoning me to focus on its sweet lullaby. My eyelids grew heavy, and I fought to keep them open. I took a step closer, my legs feeling heavier than they had just moments before. The man smiled deviously, his eyes seeming more and more familiar the longer I stared into them.

Kill him! My subconscious screamed, but my body felt as if it were moving through quicksand. I fought with my muscles, ordering them to work properly. I gritted my teeth, as I struggled to overcome the music’s influence. Its volume grew, filling my head and tempting me into submission. Still, I fought against it. My body was not my own. It didn’t listen to the orders my brains was sending. Instead my muscles and bones shut down one by one, turning into cotton and grappling to hold my weight.

The old man reached his arm out in front of himself, holding one finger up and swaying it back and forth as if conducting an orchestra only my ears could hear. He smiled wide, revealing twin rows of teeth. The music grew louder still, his finger waving in perfect synchronization. No one paid him any attention as he stood amongst the crowd and filled my body with the beautiful music. My arm reached out and I gripped a nearby support pole holding up the balcony above me. The symphony lulled me into extreme relaxation, and I was sure that if I didn’t hold onto something I’d float away.

As the melody came to its crescendo, it slowly faded away. The man stepped so close to me I could smell the mint of his gum. His gray hair peeked out from beneath his baseball hat and the first three buttons on his shirt were undone. My eyes fell to something shiny lying against his chest— a necklace on a tarnished chain. The pendent was framed in gold, but made of glass. Thin gold strips weaved a protective cage around the glass. The man shifted, and the red liquid kept within the glass pendent sloshed with his movement.

I dragged my eyes away from the necklace and toward the man’s face. His eyes held too much knowledge, watched me with too much familiarity.

“Who are you?” I managed to say.

“Find me,” he said with a smile and punctuated with a wink. And then he was gone, just vanished before my eyes.

I blinked as clarity came rushing back to my mind. My body snapped back to my control and all of the noises of Bourbon Street filled my ears, so harsh compared to the beautiful sonata I’d just been seduced by. Someone bumped into my shoulder as they passed by, throwing me a rude glare over their shoulder. I released the pole and stumbled back against the wall of a nearby bar to gather my composure.

Take deep breaths. My inner voice consoled. I inhaled deep through my mouth and released through my nose, repeating the process a couple times. I was slowly beginning to feel like myself again. I leaned my head against the brick wall, staring up at the underneath of the balcony above me. Was that man the same one who’d called my apartment? Was he looking to make some sort of deal, and if so, why? What was his role in the shit storm that surrounded me? I didn’t like adding a new player to the game board; it lowered my odds of winning.

I swept all of my questions back into the corners of my mind, ready to revisit them later. Pushing off the wall, I crossed the street to Marie Laveau’s voodoo shop. I wasn’t sure if they would have the ingredients I needed for the spell, but it was my only option right now. As far as I knew there wasn’t a witches’ shop around. Climbing the concrete steps, I stepped inside the small shop. I nodded at the man behind the counter and walked up to him.