Lost Embrace (Immortals of New Orleans #6.5) Read Free Page B

to know who denied me entrance.” As she spoke, she deliberately took slow breaths. Her mind swirled in chaos, but he’d never be privy to the conflict inside.
    “I don’t think that…”
    “Sir, take a look at me,” Sydney demanded. She didn’t have time to mince words. Despite her efforts to avoid Kade, she knew when she’d taken the car, he’d hear her leave. She suspected he’d activate the stolen vehicle tracking and quickly learn of her location. “I said, ‘look at me.’ Do I look well? Better yet, do I smell human to you? I know you can smell me…just do it.”
    Sydney rooted her feet into the ground as he leaned toward her, coming within inches of her face. She fisted her hands tightly, readying to strike if he came any closer. Her nails dug into her skin, reminding her that even though she was now immortal, she could still very much feel pain.
    “Vampire,” he whispered, reaching for the brass clip on the end of the rope. “I’m very sorry, Miss Willows. I was not aware Mister Issacson had turned you. Please forgive me.”
    “Forgiven,” was all Sydney could manage as a rush of breath hissed from her lips.
    “Perhaps I should call your fiancé. This really is no place for a lady.”
    “As you so eloquently pointed out earlier, I’m a cop…was a cop. I think I can handle it.” Sydney’s eyes fell to the barrier and then met his. She wouldn’t be intimidated from entering, dissuaded from her task.
    “As you wish,” he replied, ushering her into the foyer. “If I can get you anything at all, please let me know.”
    “Thank you but I’ll be fine,” she insisted.
    Sydney never looked back as she moved toward her destination. The small foyer led to an arched hallway. Pinpricks of light poured from the unusual lighting fixtures, making it look as if the ceiling were made from stars. She pushed through a waterfall of bamboo beads, finally arriving in the main room of the club.
    A fusion of Caribbean and new age décor surrounded her as she made her way toward the bar. Palm tree leaves appeared to sway, reflecting the soft flicker of tea lights. Traditional jazz music filtered throughout the airy space; a live band played in the far corner while patrons danced. In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of a tall brunette pinning a muscular man against the cream-colored wall. His torn shirt lay on the floor, a stream of bright red blood trailed down the side of his abs while he shook in a delirious state of bliss.
    Sydney approached the bartender. He slid bottles of beer toward a group of twenty-somethings who nervously played with their hair extensions and chatted incessantly. Observing their behavior, she suspected it was their first time donating. A month ago, Sydney would have intervened, possibly used her police authority to escort them out of the club. Tonight, she felt nothing for the neophyte humans who sought the thrill of vampires. They’d committed, now they’d have to learn to deal with the consequences of their decisions. Whether they embraced or despised the experience, it was of no concern to Sydney. Like a speck of sand, they were insignificant in the grand scheme of things. People lived. People died. And some, like the immortal predators in the room, simply survived.
    Sydney eyed the crimson tubes connected to large oak vats, disappointed that she simply couldn’t drink it like water from a spigot. While the imported, aged blood was a delicacy, it wouldn’t suffice to provide the nutritional needs of a vampire, especially a newly-turned one such as herself.
    She caught the eyes of the attractive barkeep, who smiled at her. Shirtless, his loose white linen cargo pants hung precariously low on his hips. A flimsy drawstring, tied casually, swayed as he worked. Sydney noted there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his artificially tanned chest. As he drew closer, she forced the corners of her lips into a friendly grin, and readied herself for the conversation that led her one step