“So is this the real reason you want us reproducing? To pass that trait into the Arcada pack?”
“I made a promise.” Dane looked away uncomfortably. “Before she told you kids she was sick, she contacted me, made sure that I’d step in when she was gone. I promised her I’d do whatever it took to make sure the two of you had offspring.”
Whatever it took. He stifled a laugh. Even if it meant ruining lives.
Blacque was numb. He glanced over at his computer and watched the screen saver lazily build tubular bridges that faded away into nothingness. Much like his life.
“So far, nothing’s come up in the business audits. Nothing bad, anyway. Just fiscal carelessness.”
“Good. What have you cleared so far?”
“The produce stand and the Internet preserves business. The gym is running in the black. The nail salon isn’t making a profit, but it has in the past. I’ll get a report put together for you.”
Sharing time was over. Blacque fished out a stack of papers and handed it to his father. “Here are some suggestions on how they can tighten up their fiscal management and maybe bring in some business.”
Dane took the papers and set them down, barely glancing at them. “Thank you. This is a big help.”
“Well, it’s good to use my degree.” He gave a tight smile, trying to hide the bitterness that was welling up inside. “I haven’t started on the larger end of the produce company.” He looked speculatively at his father. “Is there something you suspect? Something I should be watching out for?”
Dane shook his head. “Cops call it a hinky feeling. Instinct. I’m just getting an odd vibe lately, and if someone in the pack is up to no good, it’ll most likely have to do with money.”
“Or power.” Blacque remained seated as his father rose to his feet.
“You watch a real wolf pack someday, son. You’ll see battles over food and over bitches. That’s pretty much it. Once an alpha takes firm control, the hierarchy remains stable. Once he dies or weakens, that’s when chaos breaks out.”
Dane turned and faced Blacque before he opened the door. “That’s why I’m getting you ready now. If something happens, you’ll be prepared. The pack will be accustomed to the idea of you taking over for me.”
He watched from the office doorway as his father waved at Davey and Jason while he sauntered out to his cruiser. Though reluctant, he had to admire the old man; he was working so many angles right now, a normal-thinking person simply couldn’t keep up. There was a reason he was a hell of a chess player. He was even better at solving crimes than playing games.
Blacque started to leave the office and then turned back, closing the door again. He stood facing the wall that adjoined Bleu’s secret bedroom. “Don’t know if you can hear me, Bleu. Just wanted to let you know I’m close by.” He hovered awkwardly, embarrassed by the impulse to speak. Guilt gnawed at him; he should be checking on the vampire during the day, making sure he wasn’t lying there locked in his nightmares. But to do so would be disastrous. As it was, he could barely get through a minute without remembering…
And just like that, he was hard again. Hard and aching, his skin craving Bleu’s cool touch.
He huffed out a breath and turned to the music system, then popped in a stack of CDs. He toggled the switch so that it played in his office as well as in the shop, and then pulled his coveralls back on. He had a truck he needed to fix.
Damn Yves for doing this to him!
Damn him to hell.
Bleu lay in his bed, powerless to move, pain searing his body until his brain could no longer process reality. He knew it was a dream, yet that knowledge mattered little.
Please let me die.
He opened weeping eyes and looked up at that once beloved face. Yves had been gazing at him, agony in his expression, indecision written large upon his countenance.
Please, don’t do this to me.
His weakened heart fluttered as death crushed his lungs. Infection raced through his bloodstream, shutting down his organs, bringing him to the edge of peacefulness. He thought briefly of Yves and the long, lust-filled nights they’d shared. But inevitably his mind went backward, lingering over images of Stella, embracing her with love. Not the love of passion and lust, but of a lifetime of friendship. He loved her with his body and loved her with his mind and—Oh! He had failed her so completely!
He let his eyes drop closed, savoring the memory of a child in her arms. His son, a baby boy he’d met only once. Now he’d never know the child, and perhaps that too was a blessing. The little one would not grow up seeing his father with a mass of scars brutalizing his face and body. Oliver wouldn’t be faced with seeing the horror on Stella’s pretty face when she first saw the scarred wreck of her young husband.
He opened his eyes to see Yves lean closer, tears running down his face.
Don’t do this, Yves! No!
He hadn’t known for long what Yves really was. He’d found out quite by accident when he followed the older man from his flat early one morning. He wondered why Yves always went wandering alone in the darkness. He knew his lover was a spy, but when he saw Yves lure a teenage boy to an alley, fondle him before feeding at his neck, he knew he’d fallen in love with something much more sinister. Something…evil.
He was food, my darling. Nothing more. I did him no harm. He still lives.
Oliver had accepted those words, yet their relationship changed subtly, becoming more dangerous as he flirted with the lethal, perverse side of Yves’ nature. He fed him from his neck, from his thigh. He discovered the seductive joy of dancing with danger. Oliver found himself addicted to the ecstatic pain of feeding…of dancing in the arms of death. The vampire was like a drug, alluring and deadly, and so very, very beautiful. But in the end, Oliver wanted nothing more than to be free of him. He was desperate to escape, yet saw no way out.
Oliver felt the brush of fangs at his neck. No matter how he protested, he was unable to speak, to beg the vampire to release him to death.
No!
A flare of pain so minor compared to the brutal burns that covered his body. Weakness…darkness…the gossamer touch of nothingness…and then the taste of bitter wine upon his tongue.
No!
The bloody face of his lover hovered above him, the silken drag of the vampire’s blood slipped over his lips, bringing unwelcome life to Bleu’s ravaged body. His eyes grew heavy, and the last thing he saw was Yves, eyes misty with tears, lowering his face for a bloody, unwelcome kiss.
No!
And then he had died, only to wake again, wrapped in the cold arms of Yves. Yves, who had loved him so very much that he gave Bleu eternal life.
Oliver had never forgiven him for that.
Bleu’s eyes were open, yet he saw nothing. If Blacque had been here, he’d have left the small lamp on. A night-light.
The humor of the idea brought a reluctant smile to his face, pulling at the fading burns next to his mouth.
Damn Yves!
Bleu let the fury boil for a few moments, but as he was unable to throw punches or kick furniture, the anger ebbed until he could hear and smell and make sense of his surroundings. He was on his bed. He hadn’t managed to fully undress before collapsing. His leathers weren’t particularly comfortable, and the stained white tank top he wore would be ruined by now. He’d have to remember to buy more black shirts.
He overheard the murmur of voices and recognized Blacque speaking to his father. Earlier he’d had a revealing conversation with a pack member right after Bleu had awakened the first time. He focused, not hanging on to the words so much as the intonations of Blacque’s voice. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain that voice brought to him.
Yes, another layer of pain had entered his life. How foolish of him to play with fire as bright as Lukas Blacque and expect to avoid being burned. He’d assumed the wolf would be so hungry for his love that he’d set aside his obligations to his family and pack. What arrogance. All he’d accomplished was extending h
is life by a few months and bringing heartache to a truly good man.
He closed his eyes, listening to the conversation, letting Blacque’s voice soothe him back to sleep. There was a pause, and he opened his eyes, listening.
Yves had meddled with his life, turning him into a vampire out of his obsessive love. He’d seen the fear in Bleu’s eyes and assumed it was fear of death. Oliver had meddled with Blacque’s life out of desperation, uncaring of the impact it would have on the wolf, oblivious to the pain he’d bring himself. He damned Yves for delivering him undying torment, yet what he’d done to himself and to Blacque was so much worse.
How could he say he was sorry when he couldn’t even move his lips to speak?
“Don’t know if you can hear me, Bleu. Just wanted to let you know I’m close by.”
Damnation. He squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of the muffled voice on the other side of the wall. The weight on his chest had nothing to do with terrible dreams and memories or with grinding hunger and weakness. It was pain he’d known only once before, when memories of Stella washed over him at the moment of his death. It was regret and the bittersweet taste of love that could never be reclaimed.
He blinked and listened, desperate for Blacque’s voice. Instead he heard music start, Blacque’s favorite mix of southern rock and Texas blues. He’d turned on the speakers so Bleu would have music during his sleepless day.
Stella was dead, long gone and buried. His son as well. His grandchildren were lost to him, but Blacque was only feet away, just on the other side of the wall.
He might have screwed up royally by seducing the big wolf, but it was done and behind him. Blacque liked things simple in his world, and he’d just been handed a whole plateful of complications. Best thing Bleu could do would be to steer clear of him, keep away.
But he knew he wouldn’t do that. Someone needed to watch the big guy’s back. Maybe he could make Blacque’s life a little safer, a bit simpler.
Then he remembered April, the new girl in town. April, who recognized his name and might be working for Yves.
Maybe he just needed to get out of Dodge before all hell broke loose. Lukas had problems of his own; he didn’t need to deal with Bleu’s as well.
Chapter 15
It was still early by the time Bleu made his way back to Arcada. To evade Blacque, he’d slipped out the back door when the wolf was occupied with the new vamp and her motorcycle. He’d left the Harley behind in the parking lot, feeling good enough to flash-run his way around town.
He’d encountered Hancock, who worked night shifts at the post office. They’d nodded in passing, and he’d felt a twinge of jealousy. Hancock had a small stable of willing donors right here in Arcada. Bleu had never felt comfortable about treating humans in that fashion. He’d kept lovers in the past, people who shared their bodies and blood, but they led lives independent of him. When the relationship ended, they moved on, just as he and Blacque had done.
He’d been lucky. After only a short time at the local watering hole, Bleu had connected with the pretty young thing who was stupid enough to walk out back with him. She was legal but not yet old enough to drink, so he’d fed and planted an eerie warning in her mind. Hopefully she wouldn’t be so eager to walk into trouble in the future.
After feeding, he’d wandered the town, watching the residents of Arcada as they threw the cloaks off their closely guarded secrets. He perched in a tree at the edge of the alpha’s property and watched as pack members came and went. One young man played basketball under the lights of the security lamps, depression clear in his body language.
From there, he visited Drusilla Blacque’s condo and grinned when she came to the window and flicked the curtain to cautiously watch the street. She was sharp as a tack. Seeing that all was well with Blacque’s loved ones, he headed out to the wolf’s house, feeling melancholy as he stalked the perimeter of the property, searching for intruders. Satisfied that it was clear for now, he headed back for the shop, ready to begin his workday.
He came to a stop at the edge of the parking lot. Someone was sitting on his motorcycle. Not sitting—reclining. She leaned against the backrest, her booted feet on the handlebars. He stifled his irritation and walked into the parking lot, not bothering to hide his approach.
Her sleek Honda was parked just a few feet away, its cooling engine ticking in the chilly air.
“Can’t believe you ride a hog.”
He looked at her sitting there on his classic motorcycle, and she sat up, dropping her feet to the running boards. She gave him a grin, brought one leg over the side, and easily hopped off. She played casual, but her underlying tension showed in her posture. He thought he saw a flicker of fear behind her smile.
In the moonlight, he saw that her hair was dark; her eyes were light. Like her scent had earlier, her appearance shot a bolt of alarm through him.
“You must be April.”
“I must be.” She was still grinning, looking him over. She looked about his age, maybe a little older. In spite of her apparent youth, he decided she wasn’t a baby, but she wasn’t too old either. She radiated power and vitality. However, he was the elder; his depleted strength was more than enough to take her down if need be.
He sighed and continued to study her. “Tell Yves I will not return.”
“You think Yves sent me?” Her arched brow lifted. She tilted her head a bit, listening to her surroundings. She then turned her attention back to Bleu.
“The wolf seems to be a popular guy.”
“Pack politics.”
“Oh.” Her look of distaste mirrored his. “Funny, if you watch the movies and such, they always show the vampires with these rigid hierarchies. The wolves run around in lawless packs. Yet that’s not the way it is at all.”
“No, it isn’t.” He crossed his arms over his chest and let his weight settle on one leg.
“Well, he seems to be an all right guy for a big ole wolf.” She glanced up at him. “You two have a falling out?”
He didn’t answer.
She cleared her throat. It was a very human habit. She was nervous. “Okay, then. We aren’t talking about the mechanic.” She moved a bit closer. “I always thought you’d be older.”
“I am old.”
“But you weren’t when you were made.” For a moment, he saw a look on her face… Compassion? But then it was gone.
“I was twenty-five. I was walking on the campus after dark, heading back to my flat.” She shook her head. “It happened so fast. I’d never known anything could move so like that.”
He shifted uncomfortably. It’d been years since he’d spent any extended time around another vampire, and this trip down memory lane was just a little too poignant.
“So you might be older than me, but in an odd way, I’m older than you.” She looked pleased with her reasoning. “It’s odd that we’re frozen in time like that. I was made in the seventies. I was a product of the mash-up time between hippies and disco. I still want to look like Farrah Fawcett. You seem a little old-world, in spite of the leather.”
Bleu felt a smile starting. She certainly had charm. He studied her, taking in the elegant lines of her cheekbones, the full lips and luminous eyes. Like his, they were blue, but light blue, framed by thick, dense lashes. She was uncommonly beautiful and uncomfortably familiar.
“You aren’t one of Yves’ hunters?”
“Lord no. I want nothing to do with that crazy bastard. In fact, I’m curious about why he’s hunting you so desperately. It’s hard not to hear about the reward he’s offering. The idiot even posted it on some Internet forums.” She shook her head in disgust.
A reward? And he’d posted it on the Internet? No wonder there’d been so many hunters these past years. It was amazing Yves hadn’t outed vampires to the public at large.
“He’s my maker and wants me back at his side.”
She looked away, an odd expression on her face. “Funny. He’s my maker too. But he’s not nearly as interested in me.”
She looked at him. “Does that make you my brother?”
Cold began to creep into Bleu’s limbs, stretching its tentacles to his heart.
“Yves was your maker? He stalked you on a college campus? He turned you without your knowledge?”
That’s when he saw it—the subtle uptilt to the eyes, the hairline. Small things he saw in the mirror every day. Small things that still lived in his memory.
“What is your family name?”
“I was taking a year abroad, studying art. My family was from France. My father spoke with such a beautiful accent. He was so happy when I got the chance to go to his home. I met my grandfather and my cousins. Many have a look of you about them.”
“April. Louisa April Bleu.” He nearly staggered at the knowledge. “Yves hunted you…turned you…”
“Because of you. I suppose he was getting some sort of revenge. Or maybe he was trying to find a replacement. He always talked about you…about the wonderful times in Paris. He would talk for hours about the joy you shared and the love you made.” She lapsed into a haunting imitation of Yves’ aristocratic accent.
Unable to prevent his reaction, Bleu clapped a hand over his mouth. His own great-granddaughter stood before him, a victim of Yves’ insane love for Bleu. He moved that hand to his heart, trying to soothe the pain there.
“I am so sorry.”
She studied him for a long moment. “You are, aren’t you? Most of the vamps I’ve run into have been pretty self-involved. I didn’t expect an apology.”
Unable to remain on his feet any longer, Bleu turned away and unlocked the door to his shop. He returned to the bike and rolled it inside. April followed, looking curiously around his business. She wandered over to a bench seat he was almost finished with.
“Nice work.” She shook her head. “A blue-collar vampire. Who’d have thought I’d find you someplace like this?”
“Have you been looking for me?” He found a folding chair and sat down, feeling numb from head to foot.
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