Once Bitten, Twice Burned

Rhett’s place wasn’t on Bourbon Street. No, his bar was more secret, more shadowed. She hopped on the trolley, holding tight to the bar as she slipped inside. The bell rang, and the trolley slid away from the stop. From her perch, she watched her city sweep by.

And felt eyes watching her.

Her shoulders tensed, and Sabine glanced around the trolley car’s interior. A family . . . tourists . . . they always had the same eager look. Some college kids, wearing their Tulane shirts. A couple holding hands in the back. And . . .

And a guy, with a baseball cap pulled low over his head. Shoulders hunched, wearing a black T-shirt. A five o’clock shadow lined his jaw, and it looked like that jaw was turned away from her. As if the guy were paying her no attention.

But Sabine’s body was on alert. Something was wrong.

The trolley eased to a stop. She hadn’t planned to get off yet, but as soon as the trolley’s doors swished open, she rushed through them.

Baseball cap jumped off the trolley, too.

Not good.

She pushed her damp palms against her jeans. Daisy, bless her sweet, big heart, had given Sabine enough cash to buy some clothes. And the lady hadn’t even asked her about the rips and bloodstains in her old clothes. A real sweetheart.

As usual, New Orleans was hot, and Sabine was already starting to sweat. She hurried away from the trolley, wanting to find a place with as many people as possible. It was easier to vanish in a crowd.

A glance over her shoulder showed Sabine that baseball cap was following behind her. Part of her wanted to just turn and confront him. If he was a Genesis goon, he wasn’t going to take her again.

But another part of her, a smarter part, realized . . . You can’t conjure fire. Ryder said you were a vamp, but your fangs still aren’t there. If she confronted him and the guy came out fighting with a stake or a gun, just what the hell was she supposed to do?

Get a weapon.

That was what she needed to do.

A crowd surrounded her as she slipped onto Decatur Street. There were always plenty of people in front of the shops. She eased through the crowd, bending and weaving, and, oh, a street performer wasn’t using his cane. It was just propped against the building behind him.

Making a mental note to bring this guy back a very serious tip, Sabine grabbed the cane. Then she rushed to the left. She made sure that her body was distanced from everyone else, that she presented a very easy-to-see target . . . Come and get me.

Then Sabine slipped down a side street. The flow of bodies was immediately muted. Not much to see here, so the tourists stayed away. Clutching tight to the cane, she flattened her body against a brick wall. She lifted the cane, holding it like a bat. She’d been all-state back on the girls’ softball team in high school, and her hits had been pretty legendary.

If baseball cap came around that corner—

He did.

Sabine swung out with the cane, using all of her strength as she aimed for his chest.

He caught the cane in his right hand. He stared down at the wooden cane for a moment, then he lifted his head. “This is your best weapon?”

The weapon burned beneath his hands.

Gasping, Sabine tried to jump back. Unfortunately, she was already against the wall.

Worst. Plan. Ever.

She tried to sidle away then, but the man’s hand flew out—the same hand that had just burned that cane—and his fingers curled around her neck. “What happened to you?”

She swallowed. He wasn’t blocking her airway. Wasn’t hurting her. Yet. “Mister, I don’t know who you are, but you’d better let me go.”

His eyes narrowed. “Of course, you know who I am.”

There was fire in his eyes.

“I’m just like you,” he said.

She couldn’t speak.

His head cocked. “Or I was like you, but something’s different. Something’s blocking your fire.” He dropped his hold and stepped back. “Tell me what they did.”

She forced her shoulders to straighten. “I don’t know. They killed me. Again and again—”

He waved that away. “Why don’t you burn?”

Because my vampire lover bit me. Changed me.

“We kill each other,” he said. There seemed to be a note of regret in his voice. “It hardly seems fair, when you won’t burn.”

Oh crap, he’d just threatened to kill her.

“Didn’t even know that, did you?” For an instant, it almost looked as if pity flashed in his gaze. “Newborn,” he muttered. “Why do you think there are so few of our kind? We’re our own worst enemies.”