Rose put her hand lightly on her brother’s arm and let him lead her out of the house. Walking down the streets to their old home brought back so many good and painful memories. On one street corner, so vivid she could almost visibly see it, Rose remembered kissing the first boy she had ever liked in New Orleans. That kiss had made her heart flip and stick in her throat. It still did sometimes, when she thought about it. With a sigh, Rose shook her head. Of course, that night when Benji had found out a boy had kissed his sister he had killed the lad.
Rose looked up at her brothers face, and not for the first time, wondered why he was so jealous and protective of her. Hannah had been all over different guys, about one a night, and none of them ever died. Benji’s eyes flashed to the side quickly, and Rose followed his glance to a crowd of people but she could not figure out what had caught his attention.
Benjamin’s muscles tensed around her fingers as her finger nails dug into his skin. His growled words worried her. If her brother went in angry, they could start a war a lot soon then they hoped to. “That is why she invited us, Benji. She wants to taunt us. She wants your blood to boil. Do not let her see that her tactics are working. We are not going to win our city back tonight, we are here to meet, greet, and get information.” Rose whispered to him, trying to calm her brother down.
“Come.” She tightened her grip on his arm and pulled him towards the bar and ordered two drinks. “You need to breath and not go overboard.” Rose reached up and lightly touched the side of his face. “Just gather information.” She leaned up to kiss the cheek her hand did not rest on. The bartender put down two whiskeys in front of them. Rose grabbed her drink and flashed her brother a seductive smile. “I am going to go see if I can seduced any information out of the boys around here.” She patted his arm, and with a sway of her hip she approached another male vampire. Rose leaned up to whisper something in the man’s ear which instantly brought a smile to the guy’s face as he turned to face her.
If only she knew! He was trying to untangle her from the mess he was creating. The less she knew the better. Still, it did not seem to satisfy her. Did it occur to her that they were even because he had saved her life too? With a growl growing in his throat, he watched her leave the bar angrily. Let her go. Let her go. Let her go. He tried to tell himself. Of course he couldn’t let her.
With a growl, Charles down his drink, threw money down, and half ran from the bar. With ease, he found the little witch and matched her pace as she traveled the streets. “I saved your life, you know.” He told her in a way of greeting, though there was a growl like quality to his voice. “I could have not come back. If you went home tonight without leading those mutts to me they would have killed you, hoping I would come back for revenge.” He pulled of his unbuttoned shirt, leaving himself in only a white wife beater, and began to wipe the blood from his hands.
“This is the blood of the two werewolves outside your shop. They were getting impatient and were going to follow and kill you. So yes, you saved me. But I saved you too.” He finished wiping the blood that he could off his hands and threw the shirt into a nearby trashcan. “So tell me,” he stepped in front of her, blocking her path, “what do I owe you for saving my life?” His eyes were dark and dangerous once more.