As if she could do anything else.
“We’re almost there,” he said, his breath brushing against her cheek and ruffling her hair.
She shivered.
“I know this is hard,” he said, misunderstanding her shudder. “But it will get easier.”
No, this feeling would never get easier, or less intense. Her attraction to Cort had a life of its own. Oh, sure, he didn’t see that, but she did. She always had. A part of her wanted to simply turn her head and kiss him. His lips were right there. She could do it. Before he even realized what she intended.
But she didn’t. Apparently being a vampire hadn’t made her any braver, any more audacious. Damn it.
“Just a little farther.”
Yes, just a little farther to his lips. She should kiss him, right? After all, they were newlyweds. Betty and Ed expected it.
She debated making her move. Just a quick turn of her head. That would most certainly block out anything else, but before she could muster the courage, Cort steered her up a couple of cracked and chipped concrete steps and into Johnny White’s.
The sudden quiet startled Katie. The small, alleylike bar was open to Bourbon and contained several patrons, but it seemed like a warm cocoon compared to the craziness outside.
Still, she didn’t move away. She couldn’t. He felt too good. Like an anchor keeping her safe from being set adrift. A hunky, great-smelling anchor with an amazing body, killer smile, and those sexy, sleepy eyes.
Okay, maybe she was still losing it.
He led her to a barstool at the end of the bar, obviously trying to put as much space between her and the chaos outside. If he only knew what he was doing to her insides right now.
“Situations like this will get easier for you,” he said.
Why’d he keep saying that? He was so wrong.
“You’ll learn to block the lights and sounds and smells,” he assured her.
Lights, sounds, smells. Right. That’s what he was talking about.
Pull yourself together, girl.
“Jack and Coke. Jack and Coke.”
“Well, your bird certainly knows what it wants,” Betty said, sliding onto the stool beside Katie. “He was making the same demands last night.”
“Damn, this bird went everywhere with us. He probably knows exactly what we did last night,” Cort murmured in Katie’s ear.
“Can’t you mind-meld with it or something?”
“Yeah, no. Not one of our abilities.” He grinned, and more desire shot through her, electrical, powerful.
“Your bird was the life of the party.” Betty laughed.
Katie glanced at the parrot, which bobbed its head as if to say, “Oh yeah. Oh yeah.”
“That bird is so freaking eerie,” she whispered to Cort, who nodded.
The bartender, an older woman with obviously dyed black hair, weary eyes, and a stern set to her jaw approached. Katie wasn’t sure, but she suspected Cort was just as prepared as she was for the woman to tell them they had to go or owed money or did something so embarrassing it was better off forgotten.
But instead she simply asked in a tired voice, “What can I get you all?”
“Jack and Coke. Jack and Coke,” the bird demanded, as always. Katie could have sworn his words were a little slurred. Of course, the bird was the only one who’d managed to get a drink so far.
Maybe their luck was changing.
Although as soon as the bartender left with all their orders, Cort murmured, “Let’s see if we actually get to drink these,” voicing Katie’s own thoughts exactly.
“Don’t jinx it.”
Cort smiled again and her breath caught. God, he was so gorgeous.
“Let me show you the pictures,” Betty said, managing to draw both of their attentions to her. She dug around in her purse, pulling out a small digital camera.
She turned it on, then began pushing a button in rapid succession.
“Now where are they?” the older woman said more to herself than them.
“Do we even show up in pictures?” Katie whispered to Cort, who chuckled.
“Yeah, that one is a myth, too. Vampires are too damned vain to not have reflections or show up in photos. After all, who doesn’t want to admire their eternal youth?”
“Boy, we sure took a lot of pictures of the swamp tour today, didn’t we, Ed?” Betty still pressed the little button, peering at the small screen on the back of the camera.
Ed nodded, although Katie already knew he hadn’t taken a single picture today, nor, she suspected, had he paid any attention to how many his wife took either.
“Eureka,” Betty cried as if she’d just discovered gold rather than photos of last night’s drunken revelry. “Here they are.”
She held the camera out to Katie. “Just press this button here to see the next one.”
Katie accepted the camera and squinted down at the small screen, trying to make out what she was looking at. A picture of Cort and Drake mugging for the camera. Definitely a drunken picture, but not very revealing.
Cort leaned closer, and again Katie was distracted by his nearness and scent. Her body stirred, hungry, alive. Her fangs reacted, too, lengthening just a little, but the sensation startled her and they retracted.
“That one doesn’t tell very much,” Cort said, yet again voicing her thoughts. Eerie.
She gathered herself. “No, it doesn’t.”
She pressed the button. This one showed Wyatt, Cort, Saxon and . . .
“Is that Raven?” Cort said, disgust clear in his voice.
“Yes.”
“Oh, that was your best man’s name,” Betty said. “I’d forgotten.”
“Raven was my best man?” Cort said, now stunned as well as disgusted.
“Yes. Such a nice young man.”
Katie looked at Cort and shrugged. She was pretty sure no one had ever described Raven that way before, but last night had apparently been an alternate universe. So he probably was nice last night.
In the photo, all of them were grinning widely, arms around each other. And from the background Katie could tell they were at the Old Opera House, the bar where both Katie and Cort worked. In the background, Jacob the bartender, was giving Cort and Raven bunny ears. It was a pretty classic picture actually.
She pressed the button again. This time it was a picture of her and Cort. Cort held her in his arms, and she gazed up at him with utter adoration.
And he . . . he gazed at her with the same tender expression.
“I love that one,” Betty said, and both Katie and Cort started. Katie brushed her hair away from her face, the action nervous, and a little self-conscious. Cort fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt.