Page 19 of French Quarter Heiress

The waiter returns with our wine, a vintage red that Beau selected with surprising skill. As he pours, I can't help but notice the way the wolf's eyes linger on my throat, the hunger in his gaze sending a shiver down my spine. "You really should learn to control your appetites," I murmur, raising my glass to my lips. "It's unbecoming of a gentleman."

He grins, his canines flashing in the candlelight. "Who says I'm a gentleman? Besides, I seem to recall you having quite the appetite yourself, Miss Delacroix. Or was that someone else I saw tearing into a hapless human at the club the other night?"

I stiffen, my eyes narrowing to icy slits. "That was different," I hiss, my voice low and dangerous. "I was feeding out of necessity, not indulging in base gluttony."

He shrugs, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Semantics, my dear. We're all slaves to our natures, in the end. The only difference is how well we hide it."

Our food arrives, and for a few moments, we eat in silence, the only sounds the clink of silverware and the soft murmur of conversation from the other diners.

“So, tell me, princess... what does a vampire like you do for fun when you're not out terrorizing the masses?"

I snort, taking a sip of my wine. "Oh, you know. The usual. Sacrificing virgins, bathing in the blood of my enemies, plotting world domination. Just girly things."

He laughs, the sound warm and rich in the intimate space. "Sounds like a packed schedule. And here I thought I was the one with a monopoly on mischief."

"Please," I scoff, arching one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "You wolves wouldn't know real mischief if it bit you on the tail. Leave the scheming to the professionals."

"Ooh, I love it when you get all haughty and superior," he says, his eyes glinting with wicked delight. "It's so... stimulating."

I stare at him. For the first time, I don’t feel myself getting angry. He’s an enjoyable sight. One to immortalize over and over within the threshold of my mind.

I feel my cheeks heat, a traitorous blush staining my pale skin. Damn him and his incessant flirting, his ability to get under my skin like no one else. "You're treading on thin ice, Beaumont," I warn, but there's no real bite to my words. "Keep this up, and I might just have to put you in your place."

He grins, a flash of sharp white teeth in the candlelight. "Is that a promise or a threat, kitten? Because either way, I'm intrigued."

He’s relentlessly charming, and annoyingly sharp throughout the rest of dinner.

And yet, I feel myself drawn to him more and more.

What would my father think?

11

ELISE

“Ineed to get some air,” I say, needing to put some distance between me and Beau before I tear his throat out. Literally. I storm out of the restaurant and head toward the dark alley on my left. Blowing out a frustrated breath, I replay our argument in my head. I’m not sure what it is about him but something draws me to him.

Draws me to him and pisses me the fuck off.

I turn just in time to see him head toward me.

“Holy hell, Beau. Leave me the hell alone,” I hiss.

His condescending answering grin is enough to drive me insane. I shove my hands into his chest and he grabs my wrists pulling me against his long body.

“I hate you,” I snarl.

His grin widens. “No, you don’t.”

I squirm against his hold, the anger flaring up again to mask the sudden shiver of awareness that runs down my spine. "Let go, Beau," I growl, but he doesn't. Instead, he tightens his grip, pulling me closer.

"Make me," he whispers, eyes gleaming in the dim light from the mouth of the alleyway.

Fury boils over and I channel it into a knee-jerk reaction - literally. My knee connects with his thigh and with a gritted curse, Beau releases me. I stumble back, panting heavily.

"You're impossible," I spit out at him.

His grin doesn't falter as he rubs at his thigh. "And yet you can't seem to stay away."

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