Wicked Love - Michelle Dare Page 0,105

the night is about to take me.

“Well, from the flushness of your cheeks, I say you are parched and in dire need of a drink. Shall we start there?”

A drink sounds fantastic. “I think that sounds great. But I buy my own drinks. I’ve had a bad experience with taking drinks from others.”

“Fair enough. Shall we?” He extends his hand out once again, and I accept, our fingers threading together perfectly. He begins to walk us down Bourbon Street, the sea of people making a path for us as we pass. Even the on-goers sense how powerful this man is, moving at his presence alone.

“So, mon cherie, tell me what brings you to the city of the dead?”

“Oh, you know, just scoping out a place to hide for the next twenty to thirty years.” His brows raise. “I’m kidding. It’s supposed to be a girls’ trip to forget about my troubles at home. You know, the typical broken heart, bank account, and urge to commit murder, hoping New Orleans will make it all go away.”

He doesn’t seem to pick up on my humor, even though there’s ninety-nine percent truth to my statement. “What about you? What do you do besides rescue helpless tourists?”

“I scour the streets of New Orleans, stalk helpless women, lure them into the night, and suck out their souls.” I stumble at his reply. His laugh comes out deep and husky. “I kid as well. I am what you would call a venture capitalist. I’ve lived here for many years, so I help manage the townspeople and their businesses. An entrepreneur, as you say.”

“Hmmm…sounds fancy and important. Are you actually good at it?” I smirk, finding myself more at ease with him. I agreed with him earlier when he blamed my flushed cheeks on being thirsty, but it was way more that caused the heat to color my cheeks. Not to mention the way the butterflies are twirling inside my belly.

He squeezes my hand, the corner of his lip curving into a mischievous smile. “I’ve been doing this job for a very long time, so I’d say so.”

Stealing another peek, I can’t imagine him being any older than mid-thirties. “Oh yeah? How long? You don’t seem that old.”

He cocks his head my way. His eyes, like smoldering metal, send a weird tingle down to my toes. “Oh, is that a compliment?” I shrug, feigning nonchalance, even though my cheeks have to be blazing crimson. “Wisdom has no age to someone born with centuries of astuteness. Don’t let my features deter you from my infinite knowledge.”

God, he is so damn sexy. I wouldn’t care if he was as dumb as a bag of rocks. Between his looks and sexy accent, I’ve already bought whatever it is he’s selling.

Macareus begins to slow as we approach an opening between two buildings, a narrow dark alley coming into view.

“Wait, we’re going down here?” The entire street is lit up to the nines and he wants to take me down a dark alley?

“The best gems are the hidden ones, mon cherie.”

Yeah, as are serial killers. But are serial killers normally this hot? I test out my panic radar, but strangely, it’s pretty quiet. “I’m not so sure…”

His thumb caresses the inside of my palm. It hits a nerve that sends an electric current down to my core. I swear he’s going to cause my knees are about to buckle for a second time. “Do you trust me, Katie?”

This is the first time he’s said my actual name. And it may be the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. He mistakes my silence for hesitance. “What is your gut telling you?”

My gut says to allow him to drag me down the dark alley, serial killer or not, rip my clothes off, and use that sexy tongue in all sorts of places. What the hell? When did I become this sex-starved hussy? When you lost everything. Shaking off the dirty thought, I reply, “My gut tells me I should warn you I know karate if you try anything fishy.” I’m hoping he doesn’t sniff out that huge lie since I’m about as athletic as a rock.

He nods, accepting my warning. “Fierce. I appreciate that. I promise to be a complete gentleman…unless told otherwise.” We have a stare-off until I worry I’m close to whipping my top off in public and offering myself up on a silver platter.

We walk down the alley, and I catch myself squeezing his hand tighter, my nerves kicking in. When we