She let Ryder pull her to her feet. But then she took the lead. This was her city, after all. She led him through the twisting maze of streets and nook-tight corners that most wouldn’t know about. When they finally spilled out onto Bourbon Street, blending with the crowd was instant and far too easy.
Ryder kept a hand curled around her waist, as if he was afraid that she was about to cut and run. She had no plans to do that. Yet.
She needed to figure out just what the hell was going on.
But getting a nice, alone-time spot for a chat wasn’t gonna happen right then.
Sabine turned and wrapped her arms around Ryder. He stiffened for an instant, but then immediately pulled her closer as they pushed toward the outside of a bar. His hands curled around her waist. Seemed to brand her.
Sabine breathed slowly, too aware of him then. And, um, yes, the guy was aware of her, too. She could feel that awareness pushing against her and getting larger by the moment. She wet her lips, not in preparation for a kiss, really, and leaned up on her toes to ask, “Were we followed?”
Ryder gave a small negative shake of his head.
That was something.
“I have to get to the hospital. I need to see about Rhett.”
“Every time you get close to him, you just put him at risk.” His mouth was inches from hers. To others, they’d look like embracing lovers.
Isn’t that what we are?
“You shouldn’t have come back here,” he said, voice and eyes hardening. “I told you to stay away. You’re not the same any longer. Your family . . .” His jaw locked. “I’m sorry, but they aren’t safe with you around them.”
He could have just taken a dull knife and hacked into her heart. It would have hurt a lot less.
She glanced down at his shirt. Burned. Blackened. But his chest was unmarred. “What’s happening to you? To me?”
Looking up, she saw that his gaze held so many secrets. She was tired of secrets.
“You need to trust me,” he said.
Sabine didn’t answer.
“You trusted me to get you out of Genesis.”
Yes, she had. But it hadn’t exactly been as if she had tons of options then.
“Trust me now. Don’t run from me again. Stay with me. Let me help you.” His hands tightened on her waist. “The hunger, the bloodlust will hit you soon. If you’re not careful, the first time you feed, you may lose control. I’ve dealt with bloodlust longer than you can imagine. When it comes to being a vampire, I’m a f**king expert.”
Someone jostled her from behind. A mumbled sorry drifted to her even as Ryder snapped, “Watch it!”
She ignored the jostle. “I can’t talk about this, not here, not—”
He glanced away from her. Looked up the street. To the left. The right. Then his eyes narrowed. “I know a place.”
Uh, wasn’t that supposed to be her line?
But now he was leading and she was following and she was tired and . . . and a dull hunger was starting to gnaw at her. Blood? I don’t want blood. I don’t ever want to drink blood.
Then Ryder was pausing in front of a small bar, one with dark windows and throbbing music. Twisting letters said the place was called BRAN, and there was what looked like the top of a castle sketched beneath that name. A bouncer stood in front of the door, and the guy didn’t seem to be letting anyone in. He was a bear of a man, covered in tats and piercings, and he snarled at the folks dumb enough to head toward him.
Ryder headed right for him.
And, yes, the guy stopped snarling.
“We’re here for a drink,” Ryder said.
The bouncer cast a suspicious glance her way.
“We’re both here for the drink.” Ryder’s tone snapped now. Obviously he was getting annoyed.
Sabine shifted from her left foot to her right. The bar wasn’t on Bourbon Street. Technically it was off just one street to the side, but despite its close proximity to the infamous party street, Sabine had never been to that bar, not in all of her years in New Orleans. In fact, the place kind of looked like a hellhole. Not exactly inviting and—
The bouncer opened the door for them.
The interior was so dark. Too dark. She squinted.
“Give it a minute,” Ryder advised her. “Your eyes will adjust. You just aren’t used to your vamp senses yet.”
Um, okay. She blinked a few times. Then everything seemed to sharpen and brighten. She saw the tables. Men. Women.
Saw the bar.
Saw the . . . blood being served?
She grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his flesh. “How did you know?” The guy had just steered her right into a vampire bar.
He pried her nails out of his arm and led her across the room. “Because this place is mine.”
The bartender stiffened when she got a glimpse of Ryder’s face. She was fumbling now, hurriedly filling two glasses with red liquid, and she quickly put them in front of two empty seats at the bar. “S-sir . . .”
He nodded his thanks, but then waved her away.
Sabine’s gaze darted around the bar. “Are they all . . . ?”
“They’re just like us.”
There was a snap in his voice.
Not like me. She swallowed back the words. She hadn’t exactly gotten used to the whole I’m-a-vampire bit.
“H-how do they know to come here?” The place was a vamp bar. Got it. But did the vamps all spread some kind of secret code on the Internet? Telling each other where the blood bars were in the United States? “How did they know they could get blood here?” Because vamps were out of their closets—coffins—sure, but she’d never heard of a place like this. It sure hadn’t been featured on any news shows.
“The name told them what it was.”
Bran?
His fingers wrapped around the blood-filled glass, but he didn’t drink. “Don’t know much about Dracula, do you?”
Not exactly her area of expertise, no.
“Some folks believe that Dracula’s castle was originally called Bran’s Castle.” His lips quirked. “And that’s the name of this place, too.”
So he’d named his bar after Dracula’s house. Was that supposed to be some kind of in-vamp joke? No wonder the vamps were flocking inside.
The bartender came back, nervously tucking a long lock of blond hair behind her ears. Her nails, painted a bright red, tapped on the marble bartop. “We thought . . . a lot of us thought you were dead.”
Ryder just stared back at her. “Then I guess word is about to spread that I’m back.”