Free Villere House (Blood of My Blood) by CD Hussey, Leslie Fear Page A
Authors: CD Hussey, Leslie Fear
they weren't the only dangers in this town.
Sam screeched at them and he cringed. Amanda waved and then they disappeared from the bar.
Time to go.
He started forward but was stopped by Julien's hand around his arm. He stared at the hand and then at his brother. "What are you doing?"
"I should ask you the same thing." There was something off about his voice.
Xavier tried to pull his arm away but Julien held fast.
"You seriously aren't going after that crazy broad," he said. Once again, his voice sounded…wrong somehow, but Xavier couldn't pinpoint why.
"I'm just walking them back to their hotel. Why the fuck do you care?"
"You can't be with her."
"Who says I'm trying to be with anyone." He attempted to pull his arm away again, with a little more force this time, but still failed. "Jesus, would you let go already."
Julien stepped forward until his face was inches from Xavier's. Fuck, his eyes…they glistened with pure hate.
"She's crazy. She's cursed. She'll bring you nothing but misery and pain."
Speaking of crazy…
Or just fucking wasted.
Without restraint this time, Xavier shoved his brother back and jerked his arm away. Julien fell into the bar, knocking over a beer in the process. He blinked a couple times.
"What the hell…?"
Xavier didn't wait around. Pushing through the crowded bar and onto the sidewalk, he quickly swept the street in each direction for Amanda and Lottie. They were gone. Of course. Dumbass Julien pretty much guaranteed that.
Assuming their hotel was one of the many in the heart of the Quarter, he jogged down St. Philip, scanning Royal as he passed, hoping to spot Lottie's mane of blond curls in the darkness. Nothing. The street was virtually vacant.
He turned onto Bourbon and continued as far as Orleans where the crowd on the street made it pointless to continue. He had no idea if he was headed the right direction anyway. They could be staying on Frenchman for all he knew.
Chasing after them might be futile, but he'd kick his own ass from here to Sunday if something happened to them. Right after he kicked Julien's ass. He needed to know they at least made it back safely. He'd figure out what he needed to know about Lottie later.
With a grimace, he headed back to the Irish bar. Luckily the plastic bimbo was still glued to his brother's arm. Somehow, she was not only still standing, but even drunker than before.
"Call your friends," he said.
Her head swayed unsteadily from side to side as she turned to him, not a single drop of recognition in her unfocused eyes.
"What are you doing back here?" Julien asked.
"I wasn’t talking to you," he replied without taking his eyes off Sam. "Call your friends."
"Huh?
"Call. Your. Friends. Amanda...Lottie."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
She fumbled through her purse, pulling out various items and setting them on the bar—lipstick, a compact, her wallet, some tissues—until she finally found her phone. With a smile that suggested she'd found gold instead of a phone, she held it up.
He waited...impatiently, and she just looked at him. After a few agonizing seconds, he took the phone from her. It was possible he actually yanked it from her, but he liked to think he gently removed it from her hands.
It wouldn't be the first time he'd lied to himself.
"Hey!"
He ignored her.
There was an unread text message from Amanda. Good enough. Hitting reply, he wrote, You make it home okay?
While waiting for the response, he sifted through her contacts, finding Lottie's number and committing it to memory.
The phone chirped and he shifted back to text messages. It was Amanda...thank God.
Ha! You are fucking drunk! Yes, we're here. Try not to lose your keycard.
He passed the phone to Sam. She snatched it back.
Without a parting word, he turned and left. He'd gotten what he needed. Lottie—-and Amanda—were safely back at their hotel.
The moment he walked through the door to his house, Xavier knew something wasn't right. The door to the ritual
Sam screeched at them and he cringed. Amanda waved and then they disappeared from the bar.
Time to go.
He started forward but was stopped by Julien's hand around his arm. He stared at the hand and then at his brother. "What are you doing?"
"I should ask you the same thing." There was something off about his voice.
Xavier tried to pull his arm away but Julien held fast.
"You seriously aren't going after that crazy broad," he said. Once again, his voice sounded…wrong somehow, but Xavier couldn't pinpoint why.
"I'm just walking them back to their hotel. Why the fuck do you care?"
"You can't be with her."
"Who says I'm trying to be with anyone." He attempted to pull his arm away again, with a little more force this time, but still failed. "Jesus, would you let go already."
Julien stepped forward until his face was inches from Xavier's. Fuck, his eyes…they glistened with pure hate.
"She's crazy. She's cursed. She'll bring you nothing but misery and pain."
Speaking of crazy…
Or just fucking wasted.
Without restraint this time, Xavier shoved his brother back and jerked his arm away. Julien fell into the bar, knocking over a beer in the process. He blinked a couple times.
"What the hell…?"
Xavier didn't wait around. Pushing through the crowded bar and onto the sidewalk, he quickly swept the street in each direction for Amanda and Lottie. They were gone. Of course. Dumbass Julien pretty much guaranteed that.
Assuming their hotel was one of the many in the heart of the Quarter, he jogged down St. Philip, scanning Royal as he passed, hoping to spot Lottie's mane of blond curls in the darkness. Nothing. The street was virtually vacant.
He turned onto Bourbon and continued as far as Orleans where the crowd on the street made it pointless to continue. He had no idea if he was headed the right direction anyway. They could be staying on Frenchman for all he knew.
Chasing after them might be futile, but he'd kick his own ass from here to Sunday if something happened to them. Right after he kicked Julien's ass. He needed to know they at least made it back safely. He'd figure out what he needed to know about Lottie later.
With a grimace, he headed back to the Irish bar. Luckily the plastic bimbo was still glued to his brother's arm. Somehow, she was not only still standing, but even drunker than before.
"Call your friends," he said.
Her head swayed unsteadily from side to side as she turned to him, not a single drop of recognition in her unfocused eyes.
"What are you doing back here?" Julien asked.
"I wasn’t talking to you," he replied without taking his eyes off Sam. "Call your friends."
"Huh?
"Call. Your. Friends. Amanda...Lottie."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
She fumbled through her purse, pulling out various items and setting them on the bar—lipstick, a compact, her wallet, some tissues—until she finally found her phone. With a smile that suggested she'd found gold instead of a phone, she held it up.
He waited...impatiently, and she just looked at him. After a few agonizing seconds, he took the phone from her. It was possible he actually yanked it from her, but he liked to think he gently removed it from her hands.
It wouldn't be the first time he'd lied to himself.
"Hey!"
He ignored her.
There was an unread text message from Amanda. Good enough. Hitting reply, he wrote, You make it home okay?
While waiting for the response, he sifted through her contacts, finding Lottie's number and committing it to memory.
The phone chirped and he shifted back to text messages. It was Amanda...thank God.
Ha! You are fucking drunk! Yes, we're here. Try not to lose your keycard.
He passed the phone to Sam. She snatched it back.
Without a parting word, he turned and left. He'd gotten what he needed. Lottie—-and Amanda—were safely back at their hotel.
The moment he walked through the door to his house, Xavier knew something wasn't right. The door to the ritual