Chapter Text
The city lights danced like a constellation of fireflies, their glow spilling over the asphalt of New Orleans with a flicker that matched the vibrant pulse of the night. Bourbon Street thrummed with life, the air thick with the rich notes of jazz, clinking glasses, and the sweet murmur of voices merging in the sultry darkness. Valentine’s Day in the Crescent City was a feast for the senses, a day of romance and revelry. Everyone had someone—everyone but Louis de Pointe du Lac.
Louis wandered through the crowd, the festive revelry feeling like a cruel jest. His eyes traced couples locked in tender embraces, their laughter a stark contrast to the hollow ache in his chest. The mingling scents of chocolate and roses seemed to mock him, a reminder of his solitude. His coat, pulled tight against him, was a futile shield against the chill of his own misfortune. His pockets were empty, as desolate as his heart. He’d never been this broke, not in all his life.
The fallout from Paul’s betrayal had left him in ruins. Paul’s dramatic scene, accusing Jonah—an alpha and an old family friend—of stealing his innocence, had unraveled Louis’s world. The scandal had ignited a firestorm of judgment. His parents, ever ready to judge, had severed their financial support. His father, initially sympathetic, had been swayed by his mother’s relentless disapproval. They believed Louis was squandering their money, engaging in what they deemed immoral behavior. His father’s anger, fueled by his mother’s scorn, had resulted in his financial cutoff—a punishment for the supposed jezebel he had become. The term was almost laughable, if it weren’t so painful.
Nothing had happened between him and Jonah. He’d tried to explain this, but Paul’s theatrics and his father’s fury made it clear: being an omega meant living under a magnifying glass. His mother’s criticisms and his father’s disappointment were burdens that rendered each day a battle. He’d moved out in defiance, which only intensified their anger and led to their decision to cut him off completely until he got himself together.
Now, he was crashing with his best friend, Daniel Molley, a beta who was doing his best to support them both while Louis struggled to find a job. No one warned him how hard finding a job could be, and he was contemplating returning to his family. But he didn't want to be under their watchful eyes any longer. He could stay with Grace and Levi, but they had just married and needed their space to enjoy their new life.
As he drifted down a quieter street, the buzz of Bourbon Street faded into an oppressive silence. A chill cut through the humid air, but it was more than the weather—it was a sense of impending dread. He passed a bar, its sign flickering erratically like a dying ember. The door creaked open, and an inexplicable pull urged him inside. He hesitated, then stepped in, seeking refuge from the loneliness that seemed to seep into every corner of the night.
The bar’s interior was warm, with rich mahogany walls and a nostalgic charm that offered a fleeting sense of comfort. At the far end of the bar, through a haze of smoke and dim light, stood a man whose very presence demanded attention. He was an alpha, exuding an aura of mystery and power that seemed both out of place and hauntingly familiar.
Louis murmured to himself, “Maybe the crack my family’s on is rubbin’ off on me,” as he turned his gaze away from the enigmatic figure. The bartender, a middle-aged brown skin woman with a kindly face, approached with a sympathetic smile.
“What can I get ya, hon?” she asked, her voice soothing against Louis’s frayed nerves.
“What’s the cheapest thing ya got?” Louis asked, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice.
“Don’t worry, sugar,” she smiled, “Everything’s already been paid for by your husband.”
Louis’s expression shifted from confusion to shock. “Wait, what? I don't—” he started, but the woman had already turned to fetch his drink.
Maybe he should just take the free drink and leave, but the oddity of the situation gnawed at him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the confusion swirling in his mind. The bartender returned with a glass of bourbon, its warm amber hue inviting. Louis accepted it with a nod, though his thoughts were tangled around the strange mention of a “husband.”
He definitely wasn’t married. His mother’s accusations of him being a ‘jezebel’ aside, there was no ring on his finger, no man in his life—at least not one he knew of.
Whoever this so-called husband was, Louis decided to be grateful for the drink. He took a sip, letting the smooth liquid ease some of the tension that had coiled in his body. He moved to a quieter table, seeking solace in its seclusion.
“Hey there,” a tall, striking blonde woman approached him, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “How long have you and Lestat been together?” Les-who?
Louis nearly choked on his drink. “I’m sorry, what?” he sputtered, setting the glass down with a clink. “Who you talkin’ about?”
The strange white woman's smile widened, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, Lestat de Lioncourt. The owner of this place. Your husband.”
Louis stared at her, utterly bewildered. Lestat? His husband? How in the world was that possible?
“Come on now,” she said, her hand resting lightly on his lap. “We’re friends here. Let’s talk. How’d you manage to get him into your bed?”
Louis’s eyes widened in shock, his confusion spiraling into panic. He tried to pull his lap away from her hand. “I’m sorry, but you got it all wrong. I don’t even know who Lestat is, and I’m not—” He struggled to find the right words. “I ain’t his… husband.”
The woman’s smile took on a darker edge as she arched an eyebrow. “Sure,” she said with a snort. “You’re real pretty. I see why he’s got a claim on you.” She reached to touch his face, but Louis slapped her hand away, causing her smile to falter. “Spicy,” she commented. “I can see why he likes you. It’ll be nice to have you as a brother-in-law.”
Brother in law? So he's suppose husband was the brother to the strange white woman, making him white too? Now, this was how Louis knew he was definitely not dreaming and she was trying to make a fool out of him, because one, Louis definitely did not have a husband- a white one at that. He didn't do pink meat- he didn't even like pork! He also wasn’t about to be this strange woman’s ‘brother-in-law.’ He should’ve trusted his gut—this bar had ‘sketchy’ written all over it. He’d get an earful from Daniel when he got back for being irresponsible.
He started to stand, but the woman’s smile grew unsettling. “Wait, please,” she said, her hand now cold on his shoulder. “No need to rush off. Let’s have a drink and talk. You’re not in trouble.”
Her touch sent a shiver down his spine. Louis tried to pull away, but an unfamiliar heaviness settled over him. His vision blurred, and a wave of drowsiness crashed over him with alarming force.
“What did you do to me?” he tried to ask, but his voice was slurred and weak. He fought to stay upright, but the room spun uncontrollably.
The woman’s smile widened, though it now carried a sinister edge. “Just a little something to help you relax,” she said softly. “You’ve had a long night. Just rest for a moment. It's time for the bride to go back to the groom”
Before Louis could respond, his head slumped forward, and he felt his legs give way. He slumped back into his chair, consciousness slipping away. Through the haze, he saw the woman lean over him, her cold lips pressing a tender but unsettling kiss on his forehead.
As the world faded to black, the last sensation he felt was her cold hand brushing gently against his face.