New Orleans hadn't been my first choice, but it was as far as my parents allowed me to go. I wanted New York, but they thought it to be too dangerous, too noisy, too populated. So we made an agreement and both sides had to compromise.

I didn't get out much. And it was not because I wasn't pretty or anything. I was. With my dad being a vampire and all, I guessed I won the lottery of good genes. My brown hair fell in curls to my waist and I had large chocolate eyes like my mother's. My legs were strong and my bosom was substantial. The only problem was, I wasn't very comfortable with the whole human contact thing.

Here's why. When I touched people I got glimpses of their lives or what they were thinking or what they were feeling. It wasn't nearly as cool as it sounded. As if feeling your own pain was not enough, I was forced to feel others as well. So I learned to avoid that. I always wore pants, long sleeves and gloves. I got jumpy whenever there was a crowd.

And with a family of vampires watching over me, it wasn't easy to date or even go out for mildly irresponsible nights. My dad could read my mind, my uncle could sense my emotions and my aunt had visions of whatever I was going to do next. Of course, long ago, a deal was made about this and they promised to grant me as much privacy as they possibly could. Which I was incredibly grateful for.

"Welcome to New Orleans," the bartender welcomed me. He was an ordinary looking human, nothing special. I would've never looked at him twice hadn't he spoken to me. "Jazz and jambalaya, romance, poetry-"

"Not to mention the things that go bump in the night," said a deeper voice to my left. I turned. Immediately I could tell what he was – not just because he hadn't been there a minute ago – and as usual it amazed me that no one else turned around to stare. His skin had that known little glow.

Even sitting down he was tall, and had a thin but muscular body. His hair was short and brown and his eyes were hazel brown. His facial features were angular – high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a straight nose. Despite being (probably) centuries old, he appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He was well dressed – in a dress jacket, dress shoes, dress pants, white shirt and black tie.

And he was pale, of course, he was dead.

"What do you mean?" I asked though I had a pretty good idea.

He turned toward me with arched eyebrows. "Monsters that feed off human blood," he said and his voice was cool and clear. I found myself completely mesmerized by his lips – so lovely, sharply sculpted lips. "Vengeful spirits of the dead. And let's not forget the witches."

I felt my lips curling. "If it's so full of monsters, what are you doing in New Orleans?" I asked feigning a great deal of ignorance.

"I used to live here."

"When?"

"Oh, it feels like a hundred years ago." He spoke lightly as if everything was a big joke, but I was sure he was serious. I glanced sideways to the bartender, but the man was busy attending other of his clients.

"What brought you back?" I asked unable to mask my curiosity.

He sipped his drink. "My brother's here somewhere. I'm afraid he might have got himself into a bit of a bind."

"You say that like it's a common occurrence."

He smiled and it took my breath away. "My brother is... complicated. Defiant, ill-mannered, and a little temperamental. See, we don't share the same father. Of course that never bothered me, but my brother resents it deeply. Never felt like he belongs. All told, he has a long history of getting himself into trouble."

"And you have a long history of getting him out of it," I guessed. The vampire stared at me so seductively it made me question why I still had clothes on. I decided I'd better do something with my mouth, like talking. "What – what kind of trouble is your brother in?"

"He thinks there are people in this town conspiring against him."

That broke the spell for a few seconds and I was able to look away from him. "Whoa," I joked. "Narcissistic and paranoid."

There was a moment of silence in which I turned back to look at him. He was closer than I'd thought. "What are you doing in New Orleans?" his voice was firm, demanding. I felt obligated to answer him truthfully and immediately. Then I slapped myself mentally. I knew what he was doing, using his vampire powers on me, trying to make me feel bound to him, attached, commanded.

I cleared my throat. If a straight answer was what he wanted, I would give him everything but.

"It's complicated."

"How?" He pressed my mind further and I felt my will slipping away from me. It was so unfair. I always hated how everyone at home had some kind of power over me, over my mind. I am a human being for crying out loud, not a play toy.

My anger freed me from his grasp. I was breathing heavily now. "I kind of have to go to the bathroom," I said woozily. He arched an eyebrow. I could see the surprise in his face. He was not used to being disobeyed, overpowered. That brought me a strange amount of satisfaction.

But his astonishment didn't last very long. He stared at me with penetrating eyes, and though he had just tried to mind wash me, there was kindness in him. His face was such a distraction. "Can I come?" he asked softly.

My brain buzzed, my heart raced. Hooking up with strangers wasn't really my thing, especially if said stranger happened to be... well, dead. But the attraction I felt toward him was very much real and I was sure had nothing to do with what he had tried to do in my mind. He wasn't trying to control me anymore, he was waiting for a honest answer of my part.

I couldn't fathom his interest, but he continued to stare at me expectantly, as if whatever I was about to say to him was somehow vitally important. With a shy smile, I stood up and took his hand.

There was toilet paper all over the bathroom floor and it smelled even worse than the rest of the bar, but I didn't care. He hoisted me onto the sink and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He grabbed my face and kissed me, a little too hastily as if he couldn't help himself anymore. Our mouths fit perfectly together. His hands floated all over the small of my back, my stomach, my legs.

I shivered, the images taking over me. I saw a whole bunch of things I didn't understand. Two men hunting. Brothers teasing each other. A beautiful woman with an oval face, almond-shaped brown eyes, and smooth, long dark brown hair which was worn in many braids. Her name was –Tatia. It echoed in my mind like a plea.

The feelings came along with the memories. Lost, longing, regret. But everything was erased by a ravishing psychotic brake he made through those things. Suddenly his mind was filled with images of me, my hair, my eyes, my breasts. I felt his desire and it ignited mine.

Everything was perfect for about five minutes then the bathroom door burst open and my mother and father marched in with crazy eyes and a grimace. I pushed the vampire away and pulled my skirt down. The weirdest of sounds came out of my throat.

"Not what it looks like," I managed to say.

"Really?" said my mom. "How's that?"

I considered that. "Okay. This is exactly what it looks like," I admitted.

Dad didn't take his eyes from the vampire, who stood beside me as still as a statue. "We're leaving now, Nessie," said he.

I clenched my fist. They had promised they wouldn't do something like this. They had given me their word and yet – I held my tongue. I was extremely anger but I knew whatever I had to say would've to wait. They were already making me look like a child in front of my dark tall stranger, I wouldn't make things even more embarrassing.

I glanced at him for a last time and smiled. I didn't know if he was picking up on my body language but I tried to make it perfectly clear we were not done. He didn't move nor showed any emotion whatsoever.

My mom took my hand and I let her lead the way, dad following us. I sighed. New Orleans was not making things any easier on me.