La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust by Cd Hussey Read Free Book Online

obvious he neither
trusted nor liked her. His feelings were misplaced. Whatever crazy
shit was going on here, her memories of it could stay in the
bar.
    Before making her escape, Julia carried her
empty wine glass to the bar. "Thanks for the drinks," she said to
the scowling bartender as she set the glass down. Resisting all
temptation to run screaming from the room, Julia left La
Luxure , half expecting someone to stop her.
    No one did, and she was soon on the dark,
damp, quiet streets of New Orleans.
    Julia decided to take Bourbon back to her
hotel. The debauchery was suddenly more inviting than the quiet
isolation of any of her other options.

 
     
    Chapter Four
    Wearily, Armand pulled his 1977 Jaguar XJ12
though the automatic gate and into his narrow drive. This business
with Eve was exhausting. Not only because of the danger women like
her posed to the Community, but dealing with the endless drama of
eager Victims took its toll.
    He was always surprised how many there were.
They seemed to come in waves, their numbers surging with every
popular vampire movie or book that swept the nation.
    It was frustrating but less surprising
knowing how many in the Community were happy to fulfill the
"victim" fantasies. It would be easier if he could just look the
other way, to let those with a death wish realize it, to simply
quit interfering. But turning a blind eye to the depravity was akin
to asking him to stop breathing. The guilt alone would kill
him.
    Besides, the primary reason Armand had even
opened Luxure was to provide a safe blood source for those
who needed it, and a safe outlet for those that desired to donate
it. When he'd first been introduced to the Sang Community in LA,
still reeling from the death of his parents and rebelling against
years of being stifled in a Debutante society, he'd found a kinship
with the LA Community he'd never experienced within traditional
society. But barely a year and a half-dozen tattoos after moving to
California, he began to understand how twisted the Community could
be. When a close friend died after a night of heavy drug use and
indiscriminant blood sharing at one of the frequent blood parties,
he knew there had to be a better way.
    Luxure was born shortly after
that.
    Instead of heading back to the bar, he
considered retiring to the privacy of his living room and
disappearing into a mind-numbing movie. But remembering what he'd
left behind when he'd taken Eve to the hospital made him skip the
narrow steps to his 2nd story apartment and slip into the back door
of Luxure instead.
    Julia.
    What a breath of fresh air she'd been, so
different than the women he encountered on a daily basis. He loved
the Community, it was a part of him and he belonged to it, but
there were a lot of fucked up people associated with it. It was
nice to meet someone normal for a change.
    But not too normal.
    Scanning the dark room, he was disappointed
when she wasn't there. He glanced at Slade, his bartender for over
10 years. "Did Julia leave?"
    Slade gave him an icy look. "Not long after
you."
    "I see."
    The big man set the glass he was rinsing out
on the bar with a thud. "It's a bad idea," he growled.
    "What is?"
    "Little Miss Vanilla."
    "Julia." Armand corrected.
    "Whatever. It's a bad idea."
    "I don't know what you're talking about."
    "Give it up, man. I saw the way you were
looking at her. I haven't seen you look at a woman that way in
years."
    "I suppose I don't see the problem."
    "She's dangerous," Slade said.
    "Hardly."
    "You can't just bring outsiders in here. A
lot of shit went down tonight. I'm sure some of it freaked Miss
Vanilla out. You don't want her blabbing her mouth."
    "This isn't a private club, it's a public
bar," Armand reminded him. "There are no outsiders ."
    "Well you know my feelings on that." Slade
had been arguing to make La Luxure a private club for years.
Armand saw his logic, but he didn't want to ostracize newcomers to
the Community, or Donors (as long as they weren't Victims) for