Page 3 of Secrets & Desires
“I’m just saying because I know the man, Roan Saintmarc is Nox Renaud’s best friend. It’s more than likely they’ll be at the party on Saturday.” Marcel grinned at Livia, who rolled her eyes. “Just promise me you won’t tip their meals intotheirlaps.”
Livia snorted. “I promise,honey.”
“Goodgirl.”
Livia finishedout her shift then walked home through the busy streets of the French Quarter. She had fallen in love with this city—the slow, sensual heat, the sultry laid-back nature of the people. Strangely, for a city known for its voodoo and black magic, she had never felt uneasy walking the streets atnighthere.
Moriko was still at work when Livia got back to their apartment and so Livia took a long hot shower then made herself a bowl of soup, grabbing some saltines from the pack in the kitchen. As she ate, she flicked through the television channels, but soon got bored. Dumping her bowl in the sink, she washed it out then decided to go to bed to read. She had a piano recital coming up and she wanted to go through the score again, miming her key strokes in the air. She fell asleep with Moriko’s cat cuddling in next to her, and didn’t hear her roommatecomehome.
Out on the bayou,Nox too had fallen into a deep sleep but his was not so peaceful. Almost instantly the nightmares came. A woman, a beautiful young woman he knew but one whose face he could not see, was calling to him, begging him to save her. There was blood, so much blood, and he ran through the darkened mansion, wading through something—blood?—to get to her. A dark, malevolent force overcame everything, stopping Nox from reaching the girl. He heard her screams cut off abruptly and knew he was too late. He sank to hisknees.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. His mother, smiling at him. “Don’t you know you’ll never save them?” she said, softly. “Everyone you love will die, my beloved son. I died, your father, your brother…Ariel. You’ll always bealone.”
Nox awoke, gasping for air in a pool of his own sweat, the certainty of his dream mother’s words screaming around his mind.Don’t fall in love. Don’triskit.
Don’t let anyone elsegethurt.
ChapterTwo
Odelle Griffongy litanother cigarette and stood out on the balcony of her bedroom. She hated this holiday, hated this party. And yet Roan, of course, wanted to support his best friend Nox, and so now they were getting dressed to attend. ThankfuckNox never had a dress code for the cocktail party—Odelle would have feigned a headacheotherwise.
She looked back into the bedroom where Roan was dressing, his dark grey suit spectacular with his coloring—medium brown hair, bright blue eyes. Ripped to the max, his hard body and his huge cock made him a machine in bed. Roan Saintmarc was, with the exception of Nox, the handsomest man in New Orleans—probably the state, even—and hewashers.
Odelle might have been brought up in the upper echelons of New Orleans society but she knew her brittle beauty would only last so long, and that her cool, aloof nature wouldn’t make her many friends. That’s why she was staggered when Roan, known as the fun-loving one in his group of Harvard grad friends, made a play forher.He could have hadanyone.
Odelle turned back to see the crowds on the streets of the city. New Orleans went crazy for Halloween—parties everywhere, people haunting the streets, the locals playing up the myths and legends to sell more drink, food, and tourist crap. The normally serene street where Odelle and her cohorts lived were no different: pumpkins and Jack O’ Lanterns, trees bedecked with twinkle lights and fake cobwebs, and Odelle’s least favorite thing, kids trick or treating at everyhouse.
Her doorbell rang and although Odelle knew her staff would answer it, she couldn’t help an irritated “Oh, fuck off.” Her voice carried down to the street, and she heard Roan’s throaty laugh frombehindher.
“Don’t be a bitch, Delly. It’s a rite of passage, trick ortreating.”
Odelle made a disgusted noise. “I neverdidthat.”
Roan smiled at her, sliding his arms around her waist. “No, you were too busy casting spells and mixingpotions.”
Odelle studied him coolly. “You think I’m awitch?”
“Cue cheesy line from me about you casting a spell on me. No, baby, I don’t think you’re a witch, and—mostly—not even a bitch. You just have a warmth deficiency.” He said it with a grin, and although Odelle knew he meant it as a joke, it stillstung.
Because it’s true,she told herself.What is wrong with me? Why can’t I be more like Roan?Or Nox, whose heart was so big it actually scared Odelle? Or even Amber, her frenemy, who had once had a thing with Roan.No, Odelle told herself.Don’t go there. Not tonight. She attempted a smile as Roan brushed his lipsagainsthers.
“You’re right. It’s just onenight.”
“That’s my girl.” Roan looked her up and down in her tight black dress and when his gaze met hers, Odelle saw the desire in his eyes. “Nox won’t mind if we’re alittlelate.”
Odelle smiled and, turning, she bent over the balcony and hitched her skirt up to her waist. She heard Roanchuckle.
“Out here? Whatwillthe neighbors think?” But then, with a grunt, she felt him thrust into her from behind, his massive cock reaming her cunt as he gripped the metal balustrade with bothhands.
Odelle closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of him filling her so completely. Her hand drifted down and to stroke her clit as he fucked her, and soon she was moaning and shivering through one orgasm after another, not caring who heard her. Roan was a brutal lover, especially when he came, and Odelle winced as he thrust harder and harder until he blew his load inside of her and withdrew, panting for air and cursing softly with release. He spun her around and ground his mouth down on hers. “God, woman, you drive me fuckingcrazy.”
Odelle smiled and squeezed his diminishing cock in her hands. “Do that to me once more and then we can go to theparty.”
And they beganagain.
Livia and Morikohelped Marcel and his sous-chef Caterina—Cat—load the trays of canapes into the restaurant’s van before Liv and Moriko hopped in the back for the drive to the Renaud Mansion. Livia was trying to keep the trays from tipping and tie her thick mane up into a chignon at the same time, but the weight of it would not stay clipped. Moriko grinnedather.
“Just pull it back. You’ll never get itallup.”
