He brushed the tip of his finger from one side of my jaw to the other. Suddenly, our lips were mere centimeters apart. “Nothing that would be pieced together in a court of law, the evidence of any connection simply not there. Yet my grandmother was clever. The spells she used whether by acts of Hoodoo or the more traditional Voodoo couldn’t be traced to her or my family. Strange illnesses that seemed impossible, horrific accidents from single vehicular deaths the defied logic to disappearances in the bayou, bodies never found. She was secretive as to the art and still is.”
“Your sister has taken after her. Hasn’t she?”
The smile on his face was alluring. “Very good. Make no mistake, while I have power as you’ve noted by simply walking into thisclub or by the way my soldiers react to me, providing respect, it’s the women of our family who have always had the most power.”
“You communicate with your brother differently both in life and death. As twins would do.”
The hesitation was brief. “Yes. Stronger in death than in life.”
“You believe you’re to blame.”
“Only that I lived. Why had fate chosen me over my brother? He was firstborn. He was destined to take this throne.”
“That you never wanted.” My words whispered, I wrapped my fingers around his hand, pressing a few soft kisses against his knuckles. “How did he die?”
“Aggressive childhood cancer. He was diagnosed and gone within eleven months. Eleven months spent in a hospital by his bed.”
“You blame yourself, but someone else as well.”
“How is it, sweet angel, that you’ve managed to get under my skin, discovering all my dirty little secrets as if you’ve known me my entire life?”
“Perhaps the spirits brought us together.” I was still teasing him, but there was no denying our connection that transcended passion.
His sigh was heavy and he studied the crowd, always concerned about danger. “I blamed the world. The doctors. The drug manufacturer. The people involved in the clinical trial. Hell, even my father because at nine years old, I knew who and what he was. I thought God had struck us with lightning. Even my grandmother.”
“For not being able to cure him.” When I placed my hand on his, he inhaled deeply.
“Now you understand why I feel guilty. Hell, even at eighteen the rage and blame still lived deep inside. I left everything and everyone I knew behind, going on a two-year bender.”
“Drugs and alcohol?”
He brushed his finger under my chin, the sly look on his face creating shivers. “Nothing so benign. I did what I could to erase the hatred. By using people as my punching bags.”
“Falling into anger and violence.”
“You do know me much better than you think you do.”
“Not nearly enough.”
He rubbed his hand on my arm. “Be careful what you ask for, sweet angel. I could ruin you.”
“So you’ve said. Did you ever think I might want to be ruined?” There was no surprise any longer about the way I felt, the deep connection becoming more of an obsession for both of us.
In making the suggestion, I’d stepped fully and brazenly across a line I’d established for myself, the very one preventing something like this from happening.
The moment and the conversation were becoming far too heavy. A lump had formed in my throat, a sickening feeling that his anger and the grief were being used for some treacherous game. And that we’d been brought together so I could hurt him, not just with a conviction. The man could easily do time in prison. But with daring him to feel anything other than anger one more time.
Everything was too convenient, including being assigned to Alexander’s case. The threat. Yet there was something missing, a piece that fit perfectly. “What about the Russos? They will seek revenge.”
“Possible, but unlikely, my sweet angel. But if they do, don’t worry. I’ll protect you. With my life if necessary. Now, enough business. Come dance with me.”
The conversation was finished, but I had a sense the situation was just heating up.
He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, pushing aside his glass of champagne and on his feet in seconds. There was no denying the man.
As he led me toward the dance floor, all eyes were on us. I could feel them behind the vast array of costumes and masks, ghouls and demons for the celebration of the dead-themed event. Between the swirling lights and heat from hundreds of bodies, I could easily feel suffocated.
Yet as before, people backed away, allowing us room including on the dance floor itself. The gothic music had drawn a primal response, couples interlocked in acts of sin in every corner.
