5

She still clutched my business card in her other hand, and she turned it over to read the print on the back. Then she grimaced doubtfully, and I wanted to smooth the expression from her face.

“So do I still have a job or what?” She was pretty abrupt, and I almost laughed but part of me didn’t dare to disrespect her indignant anger like that. “I mean,” she continued. “I only went on…” She paused and squinted, just the smallest twitch around her eyes, really. “Vacation for a week, and it was all agreed officially that I could take the time.” She lifted her head and looked around, taking in the busy men who were already scattered around the space, measuring things and making notes. “But now everything’s changed.” Then she returned her attention to me, a hard glint in her eyes.

She clearly wasn’t happy.

“Everything’s changed,” I agreed.

She tugged her hand from mine like she’d only just realized I still had hold of it. “So?” She raised an eyebrow.

I let my hand drop to my side and flexed my fingers briefly, already missing her touch. “So…what?” Holy hell, I really was dumb around this woman.

She blew out a rapid breath. “My job. Do I still have one?” She left the you fucking idiot at the end of her sentence unsaid.

“Oh. I… I…” I didn’t even fully know what Allécher was going to be yet, aside from exclusive and desirable.

Invite-only exclusive, probably. I wanted people to want to be here, to aspire to it. But I wasn’t sure what that meant for any sort of lounge singing vibe. That was too much to explain on the fly, though—especially if I kept stuttering out all of my words and I was about to unexpectedly fire someone.

“Well?” She all but started tapping her foot.

I nodded at the business card in her hand and forced myself to be far more flippant than I felt. I had a business to run, after all—and I had a whole host of bad behavior in Baton Rouge to live down. I couldn’t move to New Orleans and start more of the same.

And holy fuck, she looked young. Young but self-assured. Like she’d already lived a life. And what the hell did I know these days? All the women looked young. I was old. Bordering on ancient.

But I knew this. She was something other —human but more. Something I wanted to explore. Something I needed to avoid.

I deliberately averted my gaze, returning my attention to something not all pressing as I sought to dismiss her. “Give me a call in a month when we’re ready to reopen. I’ll know more then.”

2

KAYLA

walked away from the new vampire, head held high, not even a backward glance.

Fucking blood-sucking freak.

I kept everything cool and calm and casual and carefree until I closed the front door of the club behind me. Then I spilled out into the street and raced away from The Neutral Zone—or whatever fancy name the new guy was about to call it.

The new fucking guy.

I shuddered as I thought of him. Well. Not really a shudder, damn it. It was a shiver of delicious anticipation, but it needed to contain its own damn self. I’d never been swayed by a pretty man before, and I wasn’t about to start now.

We weren’t about to be friends, me and this… this… king’s representative. I scoffed, wanting to dismiss him from my mind entirely.

But there was just something about those blue eyes and carefully tousled brown hair, because it was absolutely carefully tousled. There was no way this guy had any insecurities about his own attractiveness. And his hair had in no way ended up so temptingly touchable by mistake. Just the way he’d held himself had screamed look at me! look at me!

What an actual asshole.

A rich, arrogant asshole. Just what New Orleans needed.

I shook my head. Ugh. I needed to get away. Far away.

Maybe losing my job was a good thing if that guy proved to be too much of a distraction. Huh, I scoffed. Like I’d actually call him in a month. I wasn’t up for begging to sing. There were plenty of places that would want me.

I hoped, anyway.

It wasn’t like I was unknown in New Orleans, and I had my own cohort of loyal fans. A small cohort, but fans just the same. And if most of them were drunks and followed the cheapest happy hours…well, they were loyal to that much, at least.

Francois was gone. Émile was dead. I had no loyalty to the House of Ricard.

The king was dead.

Hope welled inside me—the first hope I’d felt for a very long time. No king, no contract. I wouldn’t have to conduct increasingly dangerous magic on behalf of anyone anymore. I was free.

I hesitated, my steps faltering. Surely, I was free, right?

But I couldn’t remember. I’d signed a contract binding myself to the Ricard royals a very long time ago. And I’d been desperate. And I hadn’t read it properly. I’d just signed the damn thing. A threat to my livelihood and my life would have gotten me to sign anything.

They’d been my last shot to stay safe. I’d burned my way through every coven in the city. No one wanted me or what I could do. I was too dangerous. Too dark. I hadn’t even fucking meant to be a dark witch. Not really. I could just do those spells.

Only Lettie had understood. Lettie and then Francois. Or at least, I’d thought he’d understood. He’d been seductive at first. Like I mattered. I’d have signed anything he told me to, quite honestly. Even without the threats —and that knowledge seared me with shame.

But vampires were tricky. I knew that now.

I’d realized that too late. And no way in hell was I falling for that same old, same old with this new guy.

Lettie had protected me from far worse with her spell to hide my virginity all these years. It was no secret that Francois had a veritable garden full of failed attempts to find his virgin vampire mate.

I would have literally been pushing up the daisies by now, if not for Lettie and her spell…which was about due for renewal. Although maybe that didn’t matter if I was free?

Only…what if I wasn’t free now? What if this new vampire in town… I fumbled for the business card he’d handed me, and my traitorous stomach flipped over as I read his name, stylish in silver print on the thick, black card.

Sebastian Dupont.

It always served me to know the names of my enemies… there was a lot I

could do with a name and the right ingredients. My time serving Émile and Francois Ricard had taught me that at least.

My morals were way more flexible now, anyway. And I was happier with darker shades of gray than I’d ever expected to be.

What if he thought he owned my contract now? I shook my head, deliberately dismissing the idea. No way. Contracts didn’t transfer between separate families like that...right? It would be a pretty shit state of affairs if they did. And there was no way that kind of crap was even legal. I was an employee, not an indentured servant attached to the building.

So… I was pretty much one hundred percent sure I was free. Probably? Hopefully? I dragged the strap of my purse more securely onto my shoulder and powered forward through the tourists wandering between small shops and places to eat.

Definitely ninety-five percent sure, anyway. Well, maybe ninety. Or even…eighty percent was good odds, right? I could get behind a solid eighty percent shot at freedom.

I sighed as I dodged a particularly enthusiastic tourist who seemed to think he was the only one with anywhere to go. I had places to go now, too. People to see. I was going to use my unexpectedly free day to job hunt — except first I was going to find Lettie.

She knew everything about the Ricards and their contracts. She was the oldest witch in the area, and if she didn’t know something, it wasn’t worth knowing. She’d probably forgotten more useless information over the years than any useful shit I’d even picked up. I also needed to discuss renewing the spell. Just because it was like my security blanket more than anything else. It took the brightly blazing beacon signal to all vampires in the area off my head.