Free Daughter of the Thirteen: Bourbon Street Witches Book 1 by Lorraine Kennedy

hot kisses across her jaw as he moved to her neck.
    “You claim you don’t want me to bed you, but your body tells a different story.” His lips moved against her skin.
    Her body’s betrayal was her own fault.
    If she weren’t already privy to the sins of the flesh, she would not be so sensitive to his touch.
    That’s what she kept telling herself.
    She didn’t want him at all. The feelings he invoked in her were due to missing Philippe. Nothing more.
    He was an evil brute for taking advantage of her like this.
    A tirade froze in her throat when she felt him slip his hand beneath her skirt.
    “This time I’ll take you there, without playing with your head,” he promised, as he caressed her thigh.
    “ Monsieur , please don’t do this,” she groaned, tapping into every ounce of willpower she possessed. She could not allow herself to surrender to the hot sensation searing through her veins.
    “You don’t sound too convincing. If you want me to stop, make me believe that’s what you want.” The amusement in his voice was like having cold water thrown in her face.
    “Stop!” she commanded.
    There was no way to deny how he made her feel, but she didn’t have to give into those feelings. If going there with Philippe was a sin, lying with a demon would be so much worse.
    His response was laughter. “You are still convinced that giving your body to me is a sin.”
    It was a statement, not a question. Somehow, he could read her thoughts, which was something she definitely had to fix.
    “It would be a sin,” she came back.
    “Sin is the least of your worries, my naive little angel witch. Hell wants you, regardless of how pure your soul is.”
    Laurel glared at him through narrowed eyes. “I am not your anything.”
    “It’s a shame you look at it that way. I could easily satisfy those sinful cravings of yours,” he mocked.
    She turned away, refusing to go along with his baiting game. He wanted her to admit her desire for him, and she wasn’t about to do it.
    The carriage stopped suddenly. Unprepared, Laurel lurched forward. It was only St. Claire’s firm grip on her shoulder that kept her from falling.
    The driver opened the carriage door and offered her his hand. When her feet were firmly on the ground, she took note of where they were.
    Bourbon Street!
    That was odd. If he planned to abduct her, as she’d assumed, why take her to such a public location?
    “Why are we here?” she asked when he was out of the carriage.
    “For your safety,” he said, pointing to the building in front of them.
    Even for someone with little worldly experience, it was apparent the building was a saloon.
    According to the sign on the building, it was St. Claire House.
    Laurel was ready to protest when she remembered that to argue about this would be unreasonable. She couldn’t very well claim it was too immoral for her to be here, considering she’d been staying at a brothel.
    Instead, she remained silent while she followed Marcos into the building.
    As soon as they stepped through the door, the piano music she’d heard outside was so loud, it was like standing in a concert hall. The establishment had wall-to-wall patrons, which didn’t surprise her considering it was a Saturday night.
    Linking his arm with Laurel’s, Marcos led her to the long bar where there was a small -mousy looking man wiping away the remnants of a spilled drink.
    “Where are they?” Marcos asked.
    The man immediately stopped what he was doing and looked up, blinking rapidly behind his thick eyeglasses.
    Laurel didn’t miss the way the man’s face drained of color. It seemed that even the mention of Marcos could inspire fear, but coming face to face with him was something to avoid at all costs.
    At least that was the impression she was getting.
    Without saying anything, the man pointed upward.
    Giving the bartender a curt nod, Marcos moved through the crowd until they reached the back of the building and a steep staircase. With her hand tightly