Blacque-Bleu

by Belinda McBride

  At the bottom of the stairs was another door, and Blacque pushed it open, then flipped on an overhead light.

  He’d been right; the place was half finished, with exposed beams on the ceiling and unfinished drywall elsewhere. There was a kitchenette and a bathroom. Not a window in sight. Bleu relaxed a bit.

  It was surprisingly spacious and much bigger than the tiny storage room he’d been sleeping in at work. The floor was covered with industrial carpeting, and Bleu could see that Blacque used this space as a gym. A weight bench and a large punching bag took up one end of the room; a large bed dominated the other.

  “I wish we had time…” His thought was half formed. He wanted time tonight, time forever. Blacque’s face didn’t change expression. He waited for Bleu.

  “Take off your clothes, Lukas. I want to see you naked.”

  Blacque was wearing nothing but Bleu’s borrowed clothing, and he quickly undressed, leaving the garments discarded on the floor. He stood patiently, hands at his sides. His cock was thick and heavy, slowly reaching arousal. He was beautiful, and Bleu’s stomach twisted with a feeling he’d forgotten years ago. Decades ago. Suddenly a beloved face that used to haunt his dreams was difficult to recall. Anger and grief knotted in his gut.

  “Damn. Damn you anyway, Blacque!”

  Bleu was on him then, pulling their faces together, nipping and biting hard at the other man’s lips. Blacque didn’t resist, letting the vampire take the lead. Bleu gripped his head and then forced him backward toward the bed. They crashed down onto the mattress. The frame groaned ominously, yet Bleu didn’t back down.

  In a test of brute strength, the werewolf would break him easily, but vampires are cunning creatures, fast as well as strong. In spite of his weakened state, Bleu had the other man pinned and helpless under his body, his mouth taking Blacque’s fiercely. His hands stroked and explored freely. He grunted in satisfaction as the wolf shuddered, his skin going rough with gooseflesh. Bleu fumbled at the waistband of his trousers and impatiently jerked them down his hips.

  He didn’t have the time to take what he wanted. The sun was rising, and in just moments the blood would begin to slow in his veins. His thinking would become sluggish, and his body would prepare for the long day ahead. His hands shook, and he cursed as he covered Blacque’s body with his. Bleu felt his rough hands on his back, then gripping his ass, pulling him down to his body as they ground together at the hips.

  It was insanity. Bleu couldn’t think. He could only feel, gasp, pant as they began to thrust together. His cock tangled with Blacque’s and then slipped up to his sweaty belly. They were a tangle of limbs and bodies, his fully clothed, Blacque’s naked and vulnerable. In the midst of all this, hunger flared, and he shook it off. He bowed down to the shifter’s body, caught the golden bars in his teeth, and tugged hard, watching Blacque’s back arch in ecstatic pain.

  They rolled, and Blacque was on top of him, pulling away his clothing, tugging off his boots and pants. Naked, they slipped together into a sweaty tumble until Blacque straddled him, clasped their dicks in one hand, and used the other to support himself as they finally caught the rhythm that carried them to that plateau that moments ago had seemed impossible to reach.

  Bleu arched his head back. His fangs had dropped, and he hungered, though he shouldn’t have—not this soon. Blacque caught his jaw in a muscular hand and looked down at him from inches away.

  “Do you need blood?”

  Bleu tried to shake his head. Once a day was enough. Any more would be a drag even on Blacque’s recuperative powers. Blacque gripped tighter, and his body went still.

  “Shit!” Bleu bucked up fruitlessly, deprived of the werewolf’s body.

  “Do you need blood?” His voice had dropped to a growl. His hand circled Bleu’s throat. He choked against the grip.

  “Yes,” he rasped out.

  “Take it, then.”

  This wasn’t the time to argue. He’d have Blacque for one more night, and then he would be alone again. Bleu reached up and swept the other man’s hand away, then rolled him to his back. Blacque lay there, nude and lovely, his engorged cock jutting from a tangle of black curls. Wild brambles cut through his skin, and metal gleamed from improbable places on his body.

  Blood hunger took away his caution. Bleu crawled off of Blacque and prowled around his body, bending in to scent the hot blood flowing under his skin. He buried his face in the wolf’s groin, scenting sex and food, and under that, he scented himself. He pulled Blacque’s cock deeply into his mouth, sucking roughly on his pierced testicles. He felt a tug on his own dick and moved, allowing the other man to get a good grip. He arched and flexed as Blacque pumped him hard.

  He sucked, and he thrust into that rough hand, growling his satisfaction as Blacque’s body went tense. The other man’s cock was hard as stone, precum salty in his mouth. He tugged at the Blacque’s balls and then reached up to grip the base of his cock. At the moment of crisis, right as his own climax was cresting, Bleu broke away and sank his teeth into the wolf’s thigh. Blacque cried out. His hips thrust as he spilled, semen spitting over his belly, over Bleu’s hands, dribbling down to mix with the blood he was gorging on.

  Blacque’s grip tightened painfully, forcing Bleu into a shattering orgasm. His balls and ass were gripped, and he froze, mindless of the blood spilling into his mouth. He shuddered through spasm after spasm, his face buried in the other man’s muscular thigh. When the storm passed, when he was no longer locked in his bliss, Bleu opened his mouth and dragged his tongue along Blacque’s inked skin, cleaning the blood, sweat, and semen from his thigh.

  His cock still rested in Blacque’s fist, and he finally rolled away, too spent to crawl back up to the top of the bed. He lay gazing at the other man’s knees, wondering how God had managed to make such a mundane body part so completely beautiful on this man.

  He sighed, and his eyes grew heavy. He wasn’t sure if it was the sex or the approaching sun, but Bleu was weak and drowsy. He didn’t stir until there was a tug on his arm.

  “Bleu. Come on.” Blacque used brute force to haul him up to the pillow. He fumbled around, adjusting his hips so that the were could drag the blankets over his body.

  “Sun coming?”

  Bleu looked up at him and smiled. “No, just fucked out.” He was drunk on sex, drunk on blood. Maybe even on happiness too. And sweet despair.

  When Blacque smiled, Bleu felt himself drift off, and for once he didn’t worry about what the day would bring.

  For the moment, all was good in the world.

  The bite marks on his neck were gone, and the one on his groin was rapidly fading. Blacque ran the soap over the wound a second time and then a third. Even though hours had passed, he knew Bleu’s scent would linger. In addition to feeding, the bites were most likely some primitive means of marking his property. Other vampires would smell Oliver Bleu in his very blood and know that Blacque was claimed. Unfortunately so would the pack.

  Blacque rinsed one final time, letting the water run over his freshly shaved face. His hair was still bristly, but he didn’t feel like messing with it right now. Shifting made it grow faster, and he might end up changing form at the Sunday pack meeting.

  If he opted to attend. Fuck. Who was he kidding? That last conversation with his father had caught him—hook, line, and sinker.

  After shutting the water off, he stepped out of the shower and toweled off. He’d be working around the house and would eventually need to shower again. Hopefully he’d sweat the smell of the vampire from his body.

  He didn’t want to. He enjoyed the fact that he smelled of Bleu and that the vampire carried his scent as well. It made him feel like he belonged to someone.

  He dug out a pair of old jeans from his closet and dressed quickly, then laced on a pair of rubber-soled work boots. He was doing gutters today, and though he’d survive a fall, he didn’t really want to take that chance. Showing up at the pack meeting with a busted arm wouldn’t do much to boost his credibility
. Somehow Blacque knew his future hinged on the impression he’d make today.

  Soon enough he was up on the roof in the late morning sun, scraping the leaves and autumn detritus from the gutters, enjoying the simple, mindless task. He paused, looking out over the rise of trees to the east. Did someone go to Mrs. Neville’s house to take care of her gutters? Her place looked neat enough, but he didn’t know if the teacher had someone to do her heavy chores. He could ask Bleu. The vampire seemed to be pretty current on everyone’s business.

  Or he could simply call her and offer.

  He finished the gutters and climbed down the ladder to gather up his yard tools. He raked away the leaves and dirt that had fallen from the gutters and bagged it up, then hauled it out to the compost pile.

  He now remembered why Mrs. Neville’s property seemed familiar. When he first moved to Arcada, his father used to take him and some of the other boys there to help with yard work. He remembered that Mrs. Neville was a widow with no children. He’d felt bad for her living there all alone.

  Clearly she wasn’t as alone as she’d seemed.

  What was it about this town? Sometimes it seemed too good to be true, and Blacque was certain he’d find something evil and ugly lurking beneath the surface of Arcada. Yet if there was something bad, it hadn’t yet emerged, not in the years that Blacque had lived here. It was a normal town. The crime rate was low but not too different from other communities. There was unemployment, and some folks seemed to have more than others, but the houses were all neat, and neighbors helped one another. He’d never seen any racial divides or overt discrimination in the community.

  He grinned, wondering who the town council was sacrificing to.

  The whisper of a car’s engine broke into his reverie. Blacque shaded his eyes and watched as his sister’s hybrid SUV came rolling up the drive. He appreciated the economy of the vehicle, yet was relieved it wasn’t likely to be coming into his shop any time soon. He needed ongoing education, with auto technology evolving so quickly.

  He began to stow his tools in the little lockup shed at the side of the yard, continuing to watch as Drusilla made her way around the house.

  She still looked stunning. In fact, she was rarely anything but beautiful. But today she was wearing torn jeans and some T-shirt thing layered over another shirt. The sun glinted off her hair, and she smiled, her eyes hidden behind trendy sunglasses.

  “Hey, Bro.”

  He was very aware of his sweaty, dirty skin and clothing. Blacque wiped sweat from his brow.

  “Hey, Dru. What’s up?” Meaning, what the hell was she doing coming by unannounced on a Sunday? Not that she wasn’t welcome, but a phone call would have been nice.

  “Pack meeting today. Came by to see if you wanted a ride.”

  That meant the alpha had sent her to personally see to his attendance. He slipped off his leather gloves and tossed them on a shelf inside the shed. He closed the doors and locked them, then turned to the side stairway up the porch.

  “Looks good out here, Lukas. You’ve done a lot of work.”

  He grunted acknowledgment and held open the door to the kitchen for her. She headed for the fridge, surveyed the contents, and then grabbed a pan from the cupboard and began boiling water. She pulled a pitcher from another cupboard and found his stash of cheap teabags.

  “You’re a bit early. Meeting’s not for another couple of hours.” His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. There’d be food at the meeting. There was always food at Dane’s house.

  “Dad wants you there early.” She found sugar and began putting together simple syrup for sweet tea. It always surprised him how efficient she was in other people’s houses. She stared at the water on the stove for a moment and then turned.

  “So you’re going to do it?”

  “What?” He collapsed into a kitchen chair, wondering if she could smell the vampire on him.

  “Do the baby thing.”

  He sighed in resignation. “He didn’t tell you what’s behind all this, did he?”

  “There’s more?” Drusilla leaned against a counter, watching him steadily.

  “He’s worried about his mortality, I guess. Wants to make sure things are all in order.”

  “He’s not sick, is he?”

  “No, not sick. That attack a while ago… I guess it scared him.” He looked up at his sister and then down at his hands. “Nobody told me how bad it was till after.”

  Drusilla crossed the room and sat across from Blacque. “No one told me either. His inner circle…” She looked at him with a frown on her face. “Why should we be any different from his other kids?”

  “Firstborn. And our mother, I guess. He said he loved her.”

  “Damn.” She pushed back her thick hair in a gesture that Blacque realized was the same habit as his. In fact, they looked similar enough to be twins rather than just siblings. That made him feel a bit odd, as he was a rough-looking man and she was a beautiful woman.

  “He doesn’t just want grandchildren. He wants to see our mother’s grandchildren.”

  “That’s kinda sweet, isn’t it?” She smiled and reached out to clasp Blacque’s dirty hand. “Pretty sad too.”

  “There’s more.” This was the hard part. He cleared his throat. “He told me that Mom was his mate. His true mate.”

  “Oh Lukas.” She spoke in a broken whisper. She covered her face, hiding the tears he knew she was shedding. They all knew there was nothing so bleak as life after the death of a mate—a true mate.

  “How’d he hide it all these years?” She looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen. “How’d he manage to leave her in the first place?”

  “Ambition. He said he figured they’d eventually get back together.” When his sister reached out, he took her hand and held it tightly in his.

  “He wants me to… He wants an heir of his own blood.”

  “You?” She dropped his hand in surprise. “You aren’t an alpha!”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not too thrilled about it either.” Her reaction stung. “I did suggest you’d be better. Or Mallory. Even Michella has more respect in the pack.”

  “No…no, Lukas, it’s just… You haven’t even been involved with the pack in general. Ever. You’ve always stayed on the outside.”

  He lifted his hand to scrub his scalp, and then, self-consciously, Blacque lowered it. “Yeah, well…” He shrugged a shoulder. “This is the alpha’s thing. Not mine.”

  “And you agreed?” She folded her arms, a skeptical look on her face.

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, saying no to him is easier said that done. He’s a manipulative bastard.” He leaned forward and propped his chin on his fist. “And he also pointed out that I have an MBA. The pack’s business interests aren’t too healthy. I can at least get that shit straightened out.” He stared out the window, refusing to meet her eyes. “I’ve managed employees, and I’m pretty good with finances. If we start this small…kinda work up to it…maybe they won’t react too badly.”

  “Come on, Lukas, you know him. He’ll just dump it on everyone at the meeting.”

  She had a point. Once their father decided on a course of action, his utter confidence swept everyone along. He’d never have that sort of charisma. Blacque sighed and rose. “Look, I’ve got to shower. Then we can head over. Try to limit the damage.”

  “That reminds me…” She crossed back to the counter and emptied the tea and sugar syrup into the pitcher. She then pulled a couple of ice trays from the freezer and emptied them in as well. She stirred and turned back to him.

  “Why does this place smell like vampire?” She dipped a finger into the tea and tasted it. “Perfect.”

  Perfect. That’s exactly what Blacque was thinking.

  Chapter 9

  Blacque slipped his feet into a pair of boots and leaned forward to lace them up. “So he’s been living in a storeroom at the industrial park. Figured I could let him crash here for a night or two. Seemed the decent thing to do.”

&nb
sp; “This is Oliver Bleu, your neighbor?” He nodded. “The cute one that does car interiors?”

  “Cute?” He raised a brow.

  “Well, he is a little frail-looking. Those blue eyes of his, though…” She whistled. “And he does have that dangerous vibe. Like he’d bite hard and make sure you wanted it.”

  He stifled a groan.

  She had her back to him and was rifling through his closet. After pulling down a couple of items, she turned and surveyed her brother. “Chuck the crappy clothes. Put this on.” She tossed him a black T-shirt and a pair of brand-new jeans. He caught them with a scowl on his face. When the black boots came at him, he ducked.

  Grumbling under his breath, he stripped down to his briefs while Dru prowled the room.

  “I quit wearing this shirt ’cause it’s too tight.”

  She turned and smiled at Blacque. “That’s what we’re going for, muscle boy.” He stepped into the unadorned cowboy boots and straightened his pant legs. Blacque caught sight of himself in the mirror. His biceps and chest stretched the thin fabric of the shirt, and the denim molded itself to his thighs and ass.

  “Leave your hair the way it is.”

  After his shift, it had grown out just enough to cover his scalp without sticking up. Normally he’d buzz it off.

  “Yes, Mother.”

  A wet towel pelted him in the back. “And pick up after yourself!”

  He laughed and shut the bathroom door behind him. He didn’t know why she was worried about how he looked; no one paid any attention to him, whether he was in greasy denim or in a suit. Rather, they avoided him. Blacque wasn’t an outcast, but he was out on the fringes of the pack. He wiped a clear spot in the foggy mirror and ran his hand over his damp hair. After that, he brushed his teeth, taking a moment to wonder what Dru was worried about. She’d taken the story about Bleu at face value, so it was most likely something that Dane had dumped on her. He sighed and cleaned up after himself. On the way out of the bedroom, he glanced at the bed and realized that it was neatly made and obviously unslept in. Crap. Would she just think that maybe he’d already straightened it? He picked up his discarded clothing and put them away.