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It doesn’t even faze me anymore. If anything, I like the ease of conversation and not always having to voice every single question and concern. He answers what’s necessary and does a good job of ignoring the rest. The parts that aren’t meant for anyone else.
“Who’s the other owner?”
“Rafael LaSalle. The only heir of the born Count LaSalle.”
“Interesting,” I murmur. “So, your family, Addy’s, and Rafael’s are born?”
“No, there are five total born families. Two of them chose not to join the Council. They wanted to live in peace and stay out of vampire politics.”
“Don’t blame them.”
Law looks out of the corner of his eye at me, smirking. “They choose to live amongst humans, blending in and getting their blood supply through other means.”
“What other means?”
He shrugs. “No clue. Maybe they hunt animals or have a connection to a blood bank. Nobody really knows. They’ve kept to themselves from the beginning.”
“Why don’t you drink animal blood?” I say teasingly.
He’s told me his stance on this before, but it looks like I’m about to be reminded.
“Let’s just say it’s the equivalent of being a vegetarian that doesn’t cook with spices. No flavor. Very bland.”
My nose scrunches at the thought. Being a bit of a foodie, the idea of bland, tasteless food saddens me. My life has been full of crap, but one thing I’ve not lacked is decent cuisine.
“Stay here. I’ll go check in and drop off our bags. Lock the door,” he says, stepping out and retrieving our bags from the back seat.
When I see that he’s making his way toward the hotel, I do as I was told and lock the door. I continue to take in the scenery, lost in the quiet moment.
The dash tells me Law’s been inside for twenty minutes when I finally turn to look.
A group of obnoxiously loud guys staggers down the sidewalk, drawing my attention back to the crowd.
Each of the men wears a collection of multicolored beads around his neck and holds a tall plastic glass in his hand. The closer they get to the car, the further into the seat I shrink.
The man at the back of the group stares directly at me and the need to hide washes over me. It’s dark, but as they pass the car, the same man who was staring taps his knuckles on the window.
“Open up. Come hang out with us.”
His friend tries to get his attention off me by grabbing him by the shoulder and attempting to steer him away, but he’s drunk and persistent. My concern ratchets up a notch.
I’m about to start honking the horn to scare him off when Law appears behind the guy like an angel of death, a solid mass of muscle hovering over the drunken partygoer with a glare that would frighten the devil himself.
“You need to keep moving if you want your legs to remain functional.”
The guy starts to run his mouth, but when he’s turned, fully facing Law, he takes one look up and rushes off to join his friends.
I unlock the door and Law swings it open. “I can’t leave you alone for ten minutes without you getting into trouble?”
“It’s been over twenty,” I say, frowning up at him. “I did nothing.”
He chuckles. “Let’s go, sunshine. We have places to be.”
He helps me stand from the car and I link my arm with his, allowing him to push us through the masses of people. It seems to get more crowded by the minute, and people get a little pushier.
We’re headed down Bourbon Street, which is nothing but debauchery. The place smells like piss and spilled beer. If my hand wasn’t tucked under Law’s arm, I’d be covering my nose.
The farther we walk, the darker it gets. Fewer people walk along the sidewalks in this part of town. The bars are a little sketchy and the clientele standing outside to smoke even more so. As we move forward, the streetlamps are either burned out or broken.
