Cajun Otherworld

couple-silhouette-1You’re trying to lose yourself in N’awlins.  As long as you aren’t found, as long as those looking for you don’t follow you, you’ll be safe.  You’re in the French Quarter, sure the ones you’re running from won’t look for you there.   You’ve been running forever, relentlessly pursued.  Because you’re different.  In a way no one understands.  A way they fear.

You run into a club and slip through gyrating bodies to the back, inky blackness trying to etch inside every time the front door opens.  Your eyes burn as sweat slides down your temples.  Not from the heat of a hundred bodies, but from fear – fear you’ll be found.  You’re watchful and distrustful.

Unaware someone has you locked in their sights.

A deep voice rumbles in your ear as firm lips brush the sensitive lobe. “Cher, why are you afraid?  I can smell your fear from across the room.”  You jump, your startled eyes darting to a dark mocha gaze.  A gaze that captivates and sees deep, into your very soul.

“I’m not afraid,” you say bravely.  “Leave me alone.”  Your voice is sharp, dismissive, but he doesn’t take the hint.

He slides a muscular arm around your waist and tugs you under his arm, leaning down to whisper seductively, “Don’ lie to me cher.  I can sense your fear, as well as sense the rage coming from the muscle who jus’ walked in the door.”

Your eyes dart fearfully to the door, your heart plummeting as you see your nemesis just inside, his eyes tracking the room, relentless in their pursuit.

Turning to run, you’re stopped by his chest, a wall of muscle, as strong arms circle your back.  He wraps you in a hug up against that wall of muscle, broad enough to block you from the assassin’s scrutiny.  “Dance with me cher, and you’ll not be found.  Let me help you.  I’ve been waiting an eternity for you.”

You fear trusting this stranger, but what is your choice?  Be found and die, or follow his lead in a dance to freedom?  Or to another kind of danger?

“How do you know I need help?”  You gaze into those eyes, barely able to form a coherent thought, mesmerized.

“I know your thoughts, what is in your soul, what you need.  Follow my lead cher, and we’ll dance to freedom.”

He parrots your thoughts, as if they are his to divine.  Seductive freedom beckons you as he shuffles you toward the back of the club.  Your body rubs sensuously against his hardness, solid proof he isn’t immune to you throbbing against your abdomen.

He dances you out the back door, your heartbeat drumming dangerously in your chest.   He pulls you into the safety of darkness, leaning down to drink dark wine from your veins, to join you together, forever, where he can watch over you. Protect you.  His thoughts are now yours, and you know he feels deep in his soul you’re his mate.  The one meant only for him.  Darkness descends and you know, in your heart, he’ll do anything, everything in his power, to protect you and convince you of this.

When you awaken, when he makes you his, in every way.

His darkness will become your light, the light that guides you away from death, from the assassin, from mortality.  To sensuous delights, to freedom, to love.

8 thoughts on “Cajun Otherworld

  1. Interesting world you are creating, Viola. Congrats for getting back into the blogosphere. I like the wallpaper on this page.

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    1. Hi Sarah! I’m glad you enjoyed the story. The characters might just insist that I expand on them. 🙂 I haven’t lived in New Orleans – the closest I’ve come to Louisiana is when I lived in Memphis from 2-5 years old. I’ve always been fascinated by Louisiana, particularly New Orleans, with its wonderful mix of people, culture, and history. It’s high on my list of places to visit when I get that vacation fund fattened up!

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