Blacque-Bleu

by Belinda McBride

  He enjoyed the posturing of the lieutenants and even the occasional scuffle when a male decided to test him. He was running with the pack again, turning himself over to the moon when it was full.

  Just last weekend, they’d announced the first pregnancy since Dane had made the momentous decision that had changed all their lives.

  Life was good, until he thought of the empty nights to come. Years—decades of the lonely nights that he faced. Sometimes during the day he paused, automatically wondering if Bleu was sleeping, if he was regaining his health. He lapsed into fantasies he had no business indulging in. He tried to lock it all away, but the pain had an evil way of slipping those bonds.

  “Lukas, are you all right?”

  Drusilla was looking at him anxiously. He took a deep breath, gathering his self-control, wrapping it around him like armor.

  “I’ll be fine. In a way, it’s good to hear it.”

  “A little too late for you and Bleu.” She sounded truly regretful. Blacque realized that if he decided to renounce it all, to throw everything away for Bleu, Drusilla would stand behind him. It firmed his resolve.

  “It never would have worked out for us. Vampire and werewolf—not gonna happen. One of us would end up killing the other.”

  She stared at him as though she didn’t believe him but kept her opinion to herself. “I’m sorry this was so hard on you.”

  “My whole life has been hard, Dru. This…this makes it a little easier.” She looked unconvinced. “Honest. When I get a little time, I’ll go to Oregon and visit Uncle James.”

  “How’d you know it was him and not Jesse or Matt?”

  He paused, running her question through his head. “I don’t know. It just seems…” He called up memories of his uncle. The man was big and brawny, as he worked in construction. Blacque recalled him as a quiet man—always kind but rarely talkative. He was serene.

  He looked at Drusilla and shrugged. He wasn’t sure how he’d known it was James.

  Blacque glanced at the clock as he followed her outside. If he hurried, he could make it to the Roadhouse well before closing. He didn’t want to hang around the house tonight, wallowing in memories and regrets and amorphous fears of the future. He wanted to be someplace loud and rowdy. Someplace he could lose himself for a while.

  When the taillights of his sister’s car faded in the distance, he dug into his pockets, checked his wallet and keys, and then climbed into his truck.

  He just didn’t want to be alone tonight.

  Chapter 16

  The parking lot was full, and the music seeped from the building, spiking when the door swung open. Blacque stood next to his truck, scanning the parking lot, looking for a big black Harley Davidson. There were several, all parked in a row next to the building. None of them were Bleu’s. He felt a quiver of disappointment combined with a wash of relief. He knew this place was on Bleu’s regular route, but he went to other places too.

  His sharp ears caught the sounds of sex; someone was around the corner in the same spot he and Bleu had come together for the first time. He felt a pull of nostalgia and wanted to return to the darkness, to lean back into the bent corrugated metal and let the memory of that night wash over him.

  He smelled the wet heat of a woman and the musky release of a man, and then they laughed together, slightly drunk and completely satisfied. He kept to the shadows until they emerged and returned to the bar. Even though he’d come to a place overflowing with people of all sorts, he felt separate and alone.

  “Fuck.” He shook off the self-pity and pushed his way through the door, letting the smell of bodies, booze, and sawdust smack him in the face. There was a fenced-in smoking area outside. Every time the door to the patio opened, smoke rolled in on the chilly night air. He bypassed the tables and booths and took a seat at the bar, then gestured to the barmaid. It was the same young woman from the night he and Bleu had their argument. She plunked a sweaty bottle in front of him, eyeing him mistrustfully. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and twisted off the cap.

  The music changed from honky-tonk to Stevie Ray Vaughan, which made him think of Bleu. What kind of music did the vampire like? He never really wondered about it before. His knowledge of Bleu’s life was spotty at best. He was French, had lived in the United States for nearly a century, and while he was from an upper-class, well-to-do family, preferred to make his living using his hands.

  He liked to be on top. He liked it when Blacque bit down gently on his nipples and traced his navel with his tongue. He loved the clinking sound that Blacque’s piercings made when he fucked his ass.

  This wasn’t doing any good.

  He turned from the bar and speculatively surveyed the roomful of men and women. No matter where his gaze settled, it always moved on, unsatisfied. A pair of laughing men hoisted a pretty blonde onto a table, where she shimmied and swayed and lost her balance, then fell into their arms. He smiled, took a drink, and then froze.

  He wasn’t sure how he missed the scent, but there was Sean Mallory, huddled in the corner of a booth, engaged in discussion with a woman Blacque had never seen before. They leaned close, hands roaming, the occasional kiss exchanged. He turned away, anger spreading through his gut. He had to fight down the need to get up, take the man by the scruff, and toss him outside. Idiot had a wife and children. No wonder he couldn’t make his fucking mortgage!

  Heart pounding, he faced the other direction, only to sway in shock as a familiar long, lean figure slipped from the front door. How in God’s name had he managed to miss Bleu as well? All thoughts of Mallory vanished as he stood, then dropped a ten on the bar. He sat back down and finished his beer.

  Following the vampire would be sheer idiocy. Complete self-destruction. Stupid.

  He got up and started toward the door, his feet moving as though he had no control. He was going to regret this. Nevertheless he was unable to stop himself.

  She was a sweet young thing.

  Bleu hid an ironic smile. She was years older than he’d been when Yves had deprived him of death. But still, her skin was smooth, and her hair felt long and silky as he fisted it, smiling down into her pretty brown eyes.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  She giggled, hooking one leg up over his hip, drawing him closer. “I want what you brought me out here for, baby.” She ground her mound against his cock, bringing it to reluctant erection.

  He stroked the soft skin of her cheek and smiled into her eyes. “Whatever it is you want, that’s what I’ll give you.” Immediately she lapsed into her own version of bliss, allowing Bleu to find her vein, hovering over her to feed. He studied her for a moment, watching her moan in pleasure, her hips grinding air. Her arousal scented the air, and he was tempted…so very tempted.

  She fell back against the wall, framed by the outline of the indentation Blacque had left in the corrugated metal, and temptation fled. It wasn’t a matter of fidelity. No, it was simply a lack of desire. He just didn’t want to take from yet another anonymous human. But he needed to feed—that was simply not an option.

  “Oh Blacque. What have you done to me?”

  He leaned in and made the wound, then drank deeply as the girl bucked and thrust, her hands digging into his back. The need to drink blinded him, and he bent to catch the drops before they reached the collar of her shirt.

  “What have I done to you?”

  He thought his heart would cease to beat. He swallowed, automatically willing the punctures in the woman’s neck to close. “Go back to the bar, darling. You had a wonderful fling tonight. He was a stranger… He looked like…” Bleu drew a blank. “He looked like Kenny Chesney.”

  She smiled and giggled, pulling away from the wall and walking unsteadily back into the bar.

  “Kenny Chesney?” Blacque was behind him, just inches from his body.

  “She kept putting his songs on the jukebox. She thinks he’s cute.” He didn’t turn to look; it was enough to feel his warmth, to indulge in his scent.<
br />
  “To each his own, I guess.”

  Bleu closed his eyes and soaked up Blacque’s presence.

  “You didn’t fuck her.” He was close enough that Bleu felt the whisper of his breath on the back of his neck.

  “My heart wasn’t in it.”

  “Oh.”

  Taciturn as usual. Bleu smiled. “You sound relieved.”

  “Not used to feeling jealous. I was near to hurting the both of you.” He crowded closer to Bleu, pushing him against to the wall. A burly arm came around and looped Bleu’s waist. It wasn’t an embrace…not really. It felt like heaven after so many weeks of craving his touch. With a groan of frustration, Bleu let his head fall backward and rest on the wolf’s broad shoulder.

  “I miss you, Lukas.”

  Blacque’s head came forward. He nuzzled Bleu’s hair, and his arm tightened slightly.

  “Same here.”

  They were close enough that Bleu felt the swelling of Blacque’s erection grinding into his ass. He was hard as well. Somehow that wasn’t important. The needs of his body had been eclipsed by the needs of his heart. He started to speak, to say the words, but then stopped the impulse. This was a moment…just a stolen moment. Détente.

  It changed nothing.

  Blacque kissed his ear, then buried his face into the bend of Bleu’s neck and inhaled deeply. Without another word, he let loose and stepped away to fade into the night. Bleu remained where he was, leaning into the indent in the metal wall of the bar. He heard the sound of Blacque’s truck start, heard the crunch of gravel and the whine of tires as he sped down the freeway.

  He laid his cheek against the frigid wall and felt the heat of Blacque’s body slowly fade from his back, and then he turned to stare out into the night. The bushes that bordered the parking lot rustled as a couple sought solitude. He heard the muffled groan of a woman and the whisper of clothing as it was discarded. Moments later, he caught the scent of arousal and semen spilling on the dirt

  That’s when the realization hit Bleu. His need wasn’t for blood or sex or even companionship. His need was for his soul mate—the person who justified his very long existence.

  Lukas Blacque.

  He might not ever have the big wolf again, but he’d never be able to leave him either. He turned and looked out into the night, wondering if this was some sort of karmic retribution for cheating on Stella. He’d tried to take advantage of Lukas Blacque and had fallen for him instead. Bleu laughed and pushed away from the building, then fished for the keys to his bike from his pocket. Something cold kissed his cheek, and Bleu looked up at the sky. Snow swirled and danced through the beams of light that illuminated the parking lot.

  Time to stop feeling sorry for himself and get his shit together.

  Never in his life had Blacque come so close to hurting a human—a female at that.

  When he saw her in Bleu’s arms, saw their bodies undulate against each other’s, he’d assumed the worst until he realized their clothing was still in place. She was making love with the air and Bleu’s glamour. He’d stood watching as Bleu murmured into her ear, glazing her mind with pretty promises and glittering temptation.

  To touch him again! His body ached with a need he had no rational explanation for. His skin burned to touch. He couldn’t ignore that need. His wolf had agreed, sighing in happiness as he’d slipped his arm around Bleu and held him close. If he’d looked Bleu in the face, he’d have lost all his resolve. He’d have begged him to forget, to forgive, and take him back. If he’d looked into Bleu’s eyes, he’d have had to kiss him. From there, the outcome would have been inevitable.

  He steered the truck toward home, briefly considering going into the shop and working some more on the puzzles of the pack finances. If he was there, he might intercept Bleu on his way in. He gritted his teeth and kept driving, blinking as the snow skimmed through his headlights. He glanced down at the cell phone that Drusilla had forced on him. He carried the damn thing but rarely turned it on. With a sigh, he hit the Power button, noting that there were messages waiting.

  Well, they could keep waiting; he was driving. He snapped it closed and turned onto the two-lane highway that led into Arcada. The pack finances were as he’d expected—funds were drawn by Dane, Michella, or Mallory. There were disbursements for school expenses and the occasional mortgage assist for families who were in difficulty. There was a leak, and as he looked objectively at the various accounts and businesses, Blacque was beginning to see a pattern. That pattern made him feel slightly ill.

  His truck bumped onto the dirt road that led to his house. He steered carefully, as the snow had settled a couple of inches deep now, obscuring the driveway. As he coasted to a stop, his headlights illuminated a figure lounging on his porch.

  He sighed. Blacque had the feeling that peace was a thing of the past. Instead of getting out of the truck, he checked his messages. Most were routine, but one text made him pause.

  Tomorrow during the pack run. J.

  So the plan to ambush him was going forward. He grinned. They could just bring it on. In fact, he’d take it to them.

  He stepped out of the truck, his breath fogging the air, powdery snow crunching beneath his boots.

  “So did you ever you manage to meet up with Bleu?” He approached casually, not allowing his stance to show his caution. She seemed pretty benevolent, but April was a vampire, and though he might be lusting after one, vamps weren’t all warm and fuzzy.

  She was sitting on the steps, her back to the large column, her booted feet stretched out across the stair. Snow frosted her black clothing and dark hair. Her smile seemed friendly enough. She’d left no footsteps in the snow. He shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

  “As a matter of fact, I did. You did too.”

  He stepped over her legs and opened the unlocked door. “Do I need to invite you in?”

  She laughed. “That’s an old-world myth that hung on.” She preceded him into the house. “It was rooted in the idea that if evil was to enter your soul—or your home—it was only because you invited it in.”

  “Makes sense.” He headed into the kitchen, wincing as he saw the time. Well, it was Saturday morning. He could sleep late if he needed to. “Can I get you anything? Bleu likes—liked—hot chocolate.”

  “Funny. So do I.”

  He glanced at her, and she was smiling, just slightly.

  “Do you mean him harm?”

  “No, Blacque, I mean him no harm. Unfortunately I might have led someone to him who does mean him harm.”

  He growled, feeling hackles rise on his neck.

  “Whoa! Not on purpose. Honest!”

  He backed off only slightly.

  “Look, you dumped him, so I don’t understand the attitude.”

  The growl died away. “That’s true, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care.” He turned to the refrigerator and took out the milk, then poured it into a small saucepan. He set out cups and waited for the milk to heat. “Explain.”

  “It’s a long story. First off, do you realize just how close to fading Bleu is?” She slipped into a chair at the table. In the warm light of the kitchen, he once again noted that she was unusually beautiful. The severity of her hairstyle suited her, revealing sculpted cheekbones and full lips. Her eyes were clear blue, surrounded by heavy lashes. She was bare of makeup and clearly didn’t put herself out to appear seductive, as so many vampire females did.

  She reminded him of…Bleu.

  “Fading?” He busied himself with the chocolate and milk. He tried to ignore the slight trembling of his hands.

  “Slow death. Sometimes it’s caused by starvation, sometimes illness or age. While we are no longer human, we aren’t dead. Our bodies are surprisingly fragile.”

  Fading. The idea made his gut tighten, yet it was apt. For the past few years he’d watched Bleu fade from the vibrant hunter who had moved into Arcada to the frail man he’d fallen hard for.

  He turned to face her. “He was ill, but he’s bette
r. I can see it in his face. He’s able to hunt. I…” He trailed off, embarrassed to finish the thought.

  “You fed him.”

  He nodded.

  She sighed. “The damage is extensive, Blacque. It took years to get this bad, and it’ll take years for him to fully recover. Even so, he’s pretty old and still has a lot of juice. I wouldn’t want to take him on.”

  “How do you know this?” He set the cup in front of her and sat at the other side of the table. Oddly this was how he and Drusilla had faced off just the day before.

  She shook her head. “You can smell illness and fear in others, right?” She looked at him and continued. “I guess we can sense vitality in other vamps. It’s like he’s a big battery, only he’s been drained. I need to know if you have any idea what’s behind it.”

  “Why? Why do you care, and why should I trust you?”

  “He’s kin.”

  Kin? Was she from the same maker? He studied her face, and then saw it. Kin, as in family. She was a relative. Blacque felt the blood leech from his face.

  “Does he…did he know?”

  “He does now.” She sipped her hot chocolate, toying with it much the same way Bleu tended to. “I’m his great-granddaughter. Which brings me to the cluster fuck I just might have brought to this town.” She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the chocolate. “Has he told you about his maker?”

  “Yves? A bit. Not much.” He wrapped his hands around the warmth of the cup. Cold was beginning to wrap around the house, and he hadn’t started a fire. He got up and raised the thermostat, then returned to the table.

  “Well, ole Yves is crazy as a bug. Loony. From what he told me, Bleu began to figure it out just before he was turned—against his will, incidentally.”

  “He told me Yves did it to save him.”