Bloodlust, page 1
Bloodlust
K.B. CASIMIR
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Sneak Peek
About the Author
Acknowledgments
First published in the United States 2024
Copyright © 2024 Kerrigan Bailey Casimir
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author.
ISBN: 979-8-218-39453-0
Cover and formatting by Books and Moods
To my best friend Becca, who was taken too soon from this world. Without you, I would not be the writer I am today and this novel would not be possible. I hope you’re sleeping well.
I miss you sorely.
1
“For the last time, I’m not coming to your party. I don’t care who’s going to be there.”
Sebastian stared at his friend and widened his eyes. Charlotte had just invited him to yet another one of her balls she felt compelled to throw. He turned her down almost always, but they had a running deal that he had to agree at least once a year to be social with her. The year was drawing to a close and he knew she’d throw that wager right back in his face should he decline again.
Which, she did.
“Please, Sebby? Remember our deal? Once a—”
“Yes, yes,” Sebastian groaned. “Fine. If I come to this, no more badgering until next October. All of New Orleans is going to be there, I assume?”
“Not this time. Inner circle only, darling,” Charlotte said with a grin, before patting his cheek. “Tonight at seven. But for you, six. I need to make sure you look presentable, and you’re going to need someone to do your hair. You can borrow some of Vic’s clothes.”
Sebastian moved his face away from her hand and cut his eyes to another part of the room. He narrowly resisted grumbling under his breath.
Sebastian sat at home, contemplating the ramifications of not going to this party. Charlotte Labasque was a force to be reckoned with when scorned, and if he pissed her off enough, she’d sic her husband Victor after him. She knew it would work, too, because Sebastian was a slave to their friendship.
He’d met Victor Labasque when he was 11 years old. Food wasn’t easy to come by in his household, so when he was old enough, he resorted to a life of petty crime to get some cash. His father didn’t have much time for anything other than drinking, sometimes making it to work, and taking out his frustrations on his wife and only child. His mother wasn’t much better. Though she was not an alcoholic, she self-medicated in other ways, and Sebastian was sure she got attention from other men to pass the time. They were so absorbed in their own crises that they often forgot Sebastian existed.
He preferred it that way after a while. It made things easier.
It had been all he’d ever known growing up, so he didn’t often voice it or complain about it. At first, he thought it was normal, given he’d never done anything wrong to warrant that kind of behavior. Not that that sort of behavior was excusable for any reason, no matter how bad, but still. He’d been a child and had spent years wondering why he wasn’t good enough for them. As he’d grown older, and gone to school, he realized his life was not normal at all, and had let his situation slip to his first-grade teacher. She rightfully reported it to the principal, who in turn reported it to the authorities to investigate. When the police and child services showed up at the house, and his parents found out what he’d done, all hell broke loose. Sebastian still wasn’t too sure how his mother convinced the government investigators to let him stay at the house, but Sebastian always assumed she just gave a sob story. You’d think they’d be immune to that sort of thing, but… things were different in Louisiana. After that, his father had beaten him within an inch of his life and told him, “The next time you do that, you won’t be waking up.”
He hadn’t said a word ever again. Not for another near-decade — until he met Victor.
He and the blonde boy had clicked instantaneously and had been attached at the hip for the rest of their lives. Sebastian was sure he would have been locked away or worse had it not been for the Labasques’ intervention. Charlotte coming into their lives years later only made things better. Sebastian would be lost without them. They had dragged him out of his life of crime and convinced him he could be more than just a carbon copy of his father.
They also opened his eyes to the fact that New Orleans could be more than a dirty city filled with crime. Victor especially exposed him to the rich culture steeped within every corner of their beautiful hometown. There had been a time when Sebastian couldn’t wait to get the hell out of the South, and now he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. It was still dirty and there was plenty of crime, but the pretty and ugly of the Big Easy were what made it one-of-a-kind.
Though Sebastian often put up a front of being inconvenienced by all of Charlotte or Victor’s shenanigans, he would do anything in the world they asked. He owed them that much, but one thing he always appreciated about them was that they never made him feel like he owed them. They would do the most generous things for him, like give him a place to stay, stock his fridge with food when his work was slow, or even force him to go get a haircut because he was always going to ‘do it next week.’ They would take care of him like he was their own blood, and never ask for a thing in return. It was almost as natural as breathing for them. The least Sebastian could do was go to a few of their parties when they begged him to.
And he never said no to good food and free booze.
Sebastian walked down the sidewalk, the cool breeze biting around him. He didn’t live far from the Labasques, but he certainly didn’t live in the same fashion. He lived in a one-bedroom shotgun duplex next to an elderly woman who, he was almost positive, was scared of him. Sebastian wasn’t sure he had the whole ‘starving artist’ persona down just yet, but as a freelance photographer in an over-saturated market trying to make ends meet, he felt like he was getting there.
Rounding the corner, he approached Labasque Manor, as they so humbly called it. It was a two-story home, all white on the outside, with black accents. A black, iron-wrought fence surrounded it with gold fleur de lis topping each spike. The garden in front was always immaculately kept, even in the short cold months the South was graced with. Short hedges lined parts of the yard around the sides of the house, leading anyone who was welcomed into a large courtyard and garden in the back.
He let himself in, the gate creaking as he closed it. He hadn’t bothered to wear anything nice of his own or do anything except wash his hair, because he knew Charlotte would take over and order him to change.
Sebastian unlocked the door and walked in, closing it behind himself. “Charlie?” he called out.
A blonde head popped out over the stair railing from above. “Good, you’re here. Come on, we don’t have time to waste.”
Sebastian obeyed and walked up the steps to her room. She and Victor had their own bedroom, of course, but Charlotte also had a room solely for her clothes and makeup.
Admittedly, Victor had one too.
“What are you feeling tonight, Sebby? The usual gothic intimidation, I’m guessing? You know, that’s absolutely why you don’t have a girlfriend,” Charlotte said as she sifted through a few things she’d grabbed from Victor’s closet.
“I’m not sure those two things correlate, but yes, I suppose the ‘usual gothic intimidation’ will be fine,” Sebastian said, sinking into the bed while watching her. “Can we not just do a normal black suit? Nothing wrong with a classic.”
“It’s boring, Sebastian. You are not boring. We are not boring,” Charlotte huffed, before pulling out a suit that Sebastian was sure cost more than he made in a year. “Put this one on. It’s black, like you like, but the stitching is silver. It’ll give you a little oomph.”
“I prefer to be oomphless,” Sebastian drawled. His eyes scanned over the suit as he took it from her. It was nice, but he didn’t expect anything less. Everything they owned was nice.
Charlotte ignored his snark and settled for rolling her eyes. “Do you want your hair up or down?”
“Is the great Charlotte Labasque giving me a choice? I may throw a parade downstairs,” Sebastian said, biting back a smirk at her unamused expression. “Down is fine.”
“Another reason you don’t have a girlfriend,” she muttered, gesturing for him to undress and change. “You’re an asshole.”
“Thank you,” Sebastian said with a smile and a small dip of his head. “That means so much coming from you.”
“Strip!”
Sebastian did as told and pulled on the suit. It felt nice, as they always did, and for once, he liked what he saw in the mirror. He ran his hands dow n over the front, noting how soft the material was. The details were fine, and he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of special guests they expected tonight, and why the hell they’d want him to be a part of it. This was nice even for their standards.
Charlotte moved him into a chair in front of her vanity and immediately began running a brush through his dark hair. It snagged slightly on the waves, but humidity did that no matter how many times he brushed it. He stared at her in the mirror as her hands made quick work of products he’d already lost count of.
“Do I get to know anything about tonight?” Sebastian finally asked.
Charlotte sighed and focused on his hair. “It will be me, you, Victor, and three very important guests. Plus… a few others who will simply serve to fill the room.”
“Who are these three very important people?”
Charlotte hesitated, which he found odd. Eventually, she spoke. “They have a lifestyle that Victor and I would like to be a part of.”
“Why are you being so cryptic?” Sebastian asked, then winced as she tugged on his hair, curling it around her iron.
“Because I don’t think you’ll approve, but I’m hoping they can convince you.”
Sebastian stayed quiet for a moment, trying to figure out her labyrinth of an explanation - if you could even call it an explanation. It was more like a riddle. “Why wouldn’t I approve? I don’t even live the same lifestyle you and Victor have. What makes you think I would be deigned important enough to live a lifestyle that you covet?”
“You are special, Sebby. I wish you’d stop saying that about yourself,” she sighed. “I just wanted you to meet them and hear them out. Okay? Really hear them out. I know you don’t really believe in some things, but—”
“Oh, God,” Sebastian groaned. “Are they some sort of religious cult?”
“Not exactly,” Charlotte said shortly. “You’ll see.”
Sebastian knew the conversation was over. Usually, Charlotte was the one who told him everything in excruciating detail, even if he didn’t ask. He knew far too much about his best friends’ life in the bedroom than he’d ever wanted. He had noticed her body language change and stiffen when he’d asked, so he assumed she was serious about this meeting.
2
The room hummed with music and chatter as the party continued in full swing.
Outside, three women walked through the gate, but a redheaded one stopped the other two.
“Why are we doing this again?” she asked.
“Leona, they want to be like us. I have spent a lot of time around them, I think they could be good additions to the coven. They’re wealthy, they understand the need for secrecy, and they seem to be like-minded to us. I wanted you to meet them. Whitney approves,” the blonde woman said.
Between them, a brunette woman spoke next, nodding her head in agreement. “They’re the ones we’ve been telling you about. I think you’ll like them.”
Leona shook her head and folded her arms. “You know I don’t like shit like this.”
“You used to love parties and dances and being social,” the blonde said. “Try to have fun. You can’t let a dark cloud loom over you forever. Just remember: ‘WWPD.’”
“What the hell is ‘WWPD?’” Leona asked.
“‘What Would Piper Do?’” she said with a laugh.
“Okay, just because I need to see people other than you due to that, I’ll go in,” Leona teased.
Piper gave a small noise of excitement and looped arms with the other women.
They entered.
Leona looked around the ornate entryway that led to what must be a ballroom. It reminded her of her childhood. The balls her parents would throw and she’d sneak out and watch from the upper floor. She’d always dreamed of the day she was old enough to be a part of them, and when she turned sixteen, she was.
It had been the worst mistake of her existence.
“There they are,” Piper said, pulling her friends with her.
“Hello, darling,” Charlotte said as she leaned forward to embrace Piper, the blondes both exchanging kisses to the cheek. “Glad you came.”
“Of course,” Piper said. “You know Whitney, of course, but this is—”
“Leona Abrin,” Victor then chimed in smoothly, giving her a rehearsed smile. “We have heard so much about you. I’m Victor Labasque, this is my wife Charlotte.”
“Pleasure,” Leona said, not taking the outstretched hands in front of her. “I need a drink and someone to dance on,” she mumbled, moving past them and through the crowd.
Whitney shot the Labasques an apologetic look. “You’ll have to excuse her. It’s been a while since she’s been to a party. She’s…”
“Prickly,” Piper finished, smirking to herself. “She’ll loosen up. Anyway,” she sighed, looking around. “This is quite the party. You didn’t go to all this trouble for us, did you?”
“Of course we did,” Charlotte said. “We want to show you that we’re serious. And we want Leona to like us. And…” she said as she turned a bit, her eyes darting around the room. She then looked up at her husband. “Where’s Sebastian?”
“Lurking somewhere probably,” Victor muttered.
“Who’s Sebastian?” Whitney asked.
“Our closest friend. We wanted you to meet him tonight. Vic, can you go find him?” she asked. “We aren’t sure if he’d also be interested, but… we feel responsible for him. Either way, he ought to be in the loop.”
“We didn’t discuss another person,” Piper said. “We don’t even know this man.”
“You will,” Victor said, then he disappeared to find his friend.
Sebastian peered down into his drink, wishing he was anywhere else but there. As usual, Charlotte and Victor had completely abandoned him to do God knows what. He could feel a headache coming on, which was stopping him from imbibing any more alcohol.
Though, these parties made for good people-watching. It was always the same caliber of people trying to get in good with his friends. He wondered if they had any shred of self-respect with the way they behaved.
“Where’d you get that drink?”
Sebastian jolted slightly and turned to face the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on. He re-focused and processed her question. “Kitchen,” he simply said.
Leona tilted her head slightly, staring at him intently. There was something about this man that seemed familiar to her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. He was a human, that much she could tell. The only immortals in the building were her coven. “Are you going to show me where the kitchen is?”
Sebastian furrowed his brows and lifted the hand holding his drink to the room adjacent to the one they were in. “If you bothered to look around, it’s right there.”
Leona narrowly avoided smirking. “Aren’t you the gentleman?”
Sebastian wasn’t sure how to respond. Universes in which women this beautiful spoke to him merely didn’t exist.
“There are also servers with drinks and hors d’oeuvres floating around. And bartenders.”
“So why do you get the privilege of making your own drink?” Leona asked.
“Because nobody else makes it right and I don’t enjoy speaking to most humans.”
Leona did smile at that. “Is that so? Do you spend a lot of time speaking to non-humans then?”
Sebastian regarded her carefully. She was weird. But he’d play along. She hadn’t walked away yet. “Oh, yes. New Orleans is full of my supernatural best friends. I have a date with a poltergeist in about an hour.”
Leona laughed under her breath. “I won’t keep you then. I’m—”
“Sebastian! There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Victor interrupted. “I see you’ve met Leona.”
The dark-haired man looked down at the redhead. Leona. Interesting name. “I suppose I have,” he said.
“Leona, this is Sebastian Beliveau. Mine and Charlotte’s best friend. Sebastian, this is Leona Abrin. One of the guests we were telling you about,” he said, giving him a pointed look.
“Ah,” Sebastian merely said. “I was just telling her about your bartenders’ lousy drinks.”
