“You sure you don’t want to stay for the run?”
It was still a few days out from the gibbous moon, and an early run would help take the edge off some of the younger wolves. He almost agreed and then thought of Bleu waking up alone. Had he slept through the day? Had he dreamed?
Not his responsibility. Blacque had to shake the odd protectiveness he felt for Bleu. He was, after all, a vampire.
“No, I ran last night. I’ll be here for the pack run next weekend.”
“And Sunday for dinner. You too, Drusilla.” Dane walked with them to the car, then stood at the driver’s door. In the late afternoon sun, he looked vibrant and powerful, ready to go on forever. How old was Dane anyway? In his fifties? His sixties? He looked like a man just entering his thirties. Some unknown tension inside Blacque loosened a bit. Werewolves lived much longer, more robust lives than humans. Dane would outlive all of them. This was the least he could do to make the old man feel a bit safer in his world of pack politics.
“The first Sunday is family only, just us. The third Sunday is the inner circle, and the last Sunday is pack. I expect you to be here.”
“Yes, sir.” Blacque thought he’d succeeded pretty well at muting the sarcastic tone of voice, but Dane’s glance told him he hadn’t done well enough. Laughing, Dru slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Blacque folded down into the low seat next to her.
“Seat belts.”
“Yes, Sheriff.” Dru slid sunglasses onto her face. She turned to look over her shoulder. “All clear back there? No rug rats?”
“All clear.” Dane stepped back, watching as she smoothly maneuvered the car out of the driveway. As they reached the end of the lane, Blacque twisted around in his seat to look back.
His father hadn’t moved.
“I was wrong about you.” Drusilla glanced over at him. Blacque didn’t have anything to say to that. “I said you weren’t an alpha. You are. But I don’t think I’ve ever encountered another like you before.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, truly puzzled.
“You’re awkward with people, but they confide in you. I heard Mallory’s wife telling you all their dirt.” She gave a slightly wicked smile. “Then the Bartons told you about the problems their grandson is having in school.” She paused, and he smiled, shaking his head. “When Michella challenged you, you met aggression with aggression. And frankly, you put out enough juice to have forced some of our people into a shift if it had been directed at them. That isn’t beta power, Lukas.”
He looked out the window, watching the wall of trees as they passed.
“I don’t want to do it.”
She sighed. “Train as alpha?”
He shook his head. “Any of it. Audit the businesses, spend every hour at his beck and call….”
“Breed the women?”
He stifled a dry laugh. “I don’t like the idea of a command performance any more than you do.”
She slapped his thigh. “You are just unnatural, you know that?”
Blacque rubbed the sting from his leg and forced a grin. She had no idea just how unnatural he really was.
Chapter 10
Bleu faded into awareness. He lay absorbing the sounds and scents of his resting place, knowing immediately that he wasn’t in his room at the shop. He was…
Blacque. He was at Blacque’s house, down in the basement. He was warm and wonderfully comfortable. For once, hunger didn’t gnaw at his gut, and he wasn’t weak from exhaustion. As sensation gradually returned to his limbs, he felt a warm presence at his side and the weight of a quilt over his body.
God! He could get used to this. Only he wouldn’t get the chance. Not if the big wolf stuck to his decision about this being their last night together. He pulled the first full breath into his lungs and let it out slowly.
“Morning. Or evening, I guess.” Blacque’s voice. He felt a smile coming on.
He blinked, and his vision filled with Blacque’s rough, handsome face. His hair was longer than Bleu was accustomed to seeing it. He reached up to sample the texture. It was surprisingly soft to the touch. As his heart began to pick up its pace, blood rushed through his body, bringing him back to the sharp awareness of life. Usually he hated the helplessness of the few minutes before he broke from the torpor of the day, but this time it felt unexpectedly good.
He stretched and laughed to feel his cock rise for the morning as well. He smiled at Blacque.
“Like the look. It’s almost civilized.”
Blacque’s obsidian eyes told him nothing. He looked steadily down at Bleu, an odd expression on his face.
“Drusilla’s idea. She didn’t want me scaring the pack.”
That’s right. He’d had his big meeting today. “How’d the meeting go?” He dragged himself upright and propped himself against the headboard. He piled the quilt over his lap, hiding his inconvenient erection.
“It went…okay. No challenges.”
“But there will be.”
Instead of replying, Blacque reached out and gently stroked the side of Bleu’s mouth. He stifled the urge to turn, to catch the finger between his lips. Instead he remained still, not wanting to spook the wolf. Blacque’s other half was close to the surface.
“The scars are gone.”
He reached up to feel the skin on his face. “Soft as a baby’s butt.”
Blacque nodded. “Good. It’s good that you’re better.”
His relief was palpable. Bleu’s health would be one less obligation in Lukas Blacque’s overburdened existence. Sudden irritation flared through him. He pushed back the covers and got out of bed. Glancing around the room, Bleu located his clothing. There was no point in hanging around, taunting himself with what he couldn’t have. Blacque had made up his mind, and this mistimed affair was not his priority. Bleu had lost the game before it had even started.
But they had one more night. He had to try. Blacque might be an adult man, but in the world of love and sex, he was a babe in the woods. Surely he’d fall to Bleu’s seduction.
“I need to shower.” He stumbled into the small bathroom, turned on the hot water, and waited as it heated. He braced his hands against the wall and leaned forward, shaking his head. He couldn’t leave yet, though his gut was telling him to flee. Blacque was the key to his recovery; he knew that. The werewolf’s blood was restoring him to health. In just another week or so, he’d be recovered enough to hunt.
He didn’t fool himself. The damage to his body had been a long time in the making, and he wouldn’t recover overnight. But another week could save him. Another week of having Blacque in his bed, chasing away the dreams… Another week, and then another…
He pushed away from the wall and checked the temperature of the water, then stepped in. There was a small bottle of shampoo on the floor. It was almost empty, but he salvaged enough to wash his hair. A tiny bar of soap from a hotel sat on a ledge, still wrapped in paper. He peeled it open and lathered up.
Bleu wished the damn wolf would join him. He knew he wouldn’t. Regardless of whatever else Lukas Blacque might be, he was a sexual submissive, and at this point he lacked the confidence to make a move that might displease Bleu.
Amazing that someone as physically powerful and as disciplined as Blacque would be a submissive. Amazing and wonderful. He idly rubbed a hand over his chest, trying to soothe the discomfort there…deep inside his heart. Damn, but it’d been a long time since he’d felt anything there. Should he celebrate the reawakening of his heart when it was so likely to be broken by this man?
Bleu rinsed his hair and sighed, then shut the faucet off. He grabbed a towel and dried himself, considering how to go about seducing the wolf for another few days. He had to think of something—his life could very well depend on it.
Bleu dressed and unwrapped a toothbrush, then brushed his teeth carefully. When his fangs dropped a bit, he grinned. They reacted to hunger, fury, and lust. He wondered what was bringing them forth right now, because he was starving, p
issed, and horny as hell.
He didn’t see Blacque when he stepped out of the bathroom, but heard the rhythmic sound of fists on leather. He glanced over to see Blacque focused on the huge practice bag, punching and jabbing, pushing the bag into a frenzied dance. Bleu moved to the far side of the bag and grasped it to hold it in place as the wolf worked out his frustrated rage.
There was a light sheen of sweat over his brow, and he grunted with every powerful blow. Blacque was so contained and quiet that it was difficult to read him. Bleu studied his face. Even as he let loose, the wolf was still rigidly disciplined, still controlled. He’d controlled his emotions and anger for so long, it was amazing he hadn’t snapped.
Blacque gave a final, powerful blow that nearly rocked Bleu off his feet, and he dropped his raw, bloody hands to his sides. He panted, looking around as though he didn’t know where he was. Instead of taking a break, he moved to the weight bench and brought down the bar to bench press an inhuman amount of weight. But Blacque wasn’t human.
Bleu stood back and admired the straining muscles, the flex of his powerful body. He probably didn’t need a spotter, but Bleu stood by anyway, shaking his head at the werewolf’s strength. After working himself to a standstill, Blacque returned the bar to its stand, and he sat up, wiping sweat from his brow. He was still wearing a tight T-shirt and new blue jeans. It had looked good on him before, but now that he was pumped, the clothing clung to his powerful body.
Bleu backed away and leaned against a wall. “Do you want to talk about it?”
The werewolf shook his head and moved into the small bathroom. The water in the sink ran, and then he returned, water stains splattered across his shirt.
“Let’s go upstairs, Lukas. You should drink something.” He climbed the stairs ahead of Blacque, then turned the light on in the dark kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and found a pitcher of tea. He held it up. “This?”
Blacque nodded and sat at the table, his head in his hands. Bleu opened cupboards until he found a glass. He poured the tea and remembered belatedly that people usually liked ice in their ice tea. He poured a bit back into the pitcher and found a bag of ice in the freezer. He carried the glass to the table and sat across from the wolf. Out of curiosity, he tried the stuff, wincing in reaction to its sweet taste. Not bad. Too sweet, though. He pushed the glass across to Blacque, who was watching.
“Never tasted sweet tea before. It’s quite different from the tea I drank…before.”
Blacque picked up the glass and drained it quickly. Without speaking, Bleu rose and retrieved the pitcher, then set it on the table. Blacque refilled his glass and sipped at it this time.
“I just feel…snared.” He kept his gaze lowered to the table. Initially Bleu thought it was a submissive trait, but now he knew Blacque hid his feelings this way. He remained quiet, letting his friend work his way through the tangle of his thoughts.
“I expected challenges. Fights. Instead they embraced me, took the alpha’s words at face value.” His distress and confusion radiated from him. Bleu fought the urge to reach out and touch. Right now, that would not be a good thing. He was too hungry, and Blacque was too jumpy. He kept his hands on the table.
“The betas?”
“Oh, that’s different. They’ll probably take me on in a formal challenge. It was the families…even the kids.” He scrubbed at his head in a gesture that Bleu was beginning to expect when Blacque was distressed.
“So you weren’t the bogeyman.”
Dark eyes flashed as Blacque looked at him in surprise.
“You thought they hated and feared you. Instead they were more than willing to accept you. But you understand, Blacque, that’s how it is with an alpha. A good alpha is not a bully; he doesn’t need force. An alpha is a leader, a father or a mother figure. They nurture and protect, and sometimes they use underhanded tactics to do what is right.”
“You think Dane manipulated me into this? Agreeing to be his heir…breeding females?” The expression on his face was speculative rather than angry. Bleu had expected anger.
“Why did you finally concede to his wishes?”
“Drusilla. She’s got so much in front of her, Bleu. What he wanted her to do… It’s tough enough for a man, but for a woman?” He sighed. “And my mother. He’d never told us she was his mate.”
He looked up and met Bleu’s knowing gaze. “Shit.” He leaned back in his chair, an expression of wry amusement on his face. “He knew my weak spots and played me like a novice.”
“You are a novice, Blacque. You are very young still.”
The wolf’s cheeks darkened a bit. “That’s how you see me? A novice? A kid?”
“No, Blacque, I see you as a man. But in the world of werewolf politics, you are very inexperienced. Your father knows you are a nurturer. He knows you would do anything to protect your sister. He knew that if he shared his greatest pain, you’d feel sympathy for him. Those are good traits that you will someday extend to every person in your pack. He knows it, and your pack senses it as well.”
Blacque’s amusement had faded as abruptly as it came. His gaze dropped to the table again.
“I don’t want this, Bleu.”
“Your father has many years left, my friend. You have a long time to adjust and ready yourself.”
When the wolf looked at him, his eyes were bleak. “How can I live out those years…after you?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m a homosexual, Bleu. I didn’t choose to be gay, and I sure as hell didn’t choose to be the heir to a werewolf pack. I’m going to have to watch my back every minute of every day. And if they sense this…”
“Weakness? Is that how you perceive it?”
Blacque went still.
“Does your love for your sister make you weak?”
“No.”
“Then why should your sexual orientation make you less a man?” Bleu waited for an answer that didn’t come. “Yes, it might make you a target, but does it make you less able to defend yourself? Less able to be a good leader?”
“I don’t know.” Blacque stood and carried the glass to the sink, then washed it and put it in a rack to dry. “I do know that from now on—after tonight—I can’t be gay. I might be odd or eccentric, but it’s time to step up and do what I promised to do.”
Bleu gave a little laugh. “Saying it does not make it so, Lukas. But I understand survival. I understand protecting those we love. But it breaks my heart for you.”
“It sucks.”
He stood magnificent in his despair, and all thoughts of seduction left Bleu’s mind. The man was already suffering. If he pushed him, he might break Blacque’s heart.
No wonder he was starving to death—as vampires went, he had no balls. Pathetic.
“Would you like me to leave?”
Blacque looked up at him in alarm. “No!” He took a deep breath and gathered his control. “No. I owe this to myself. I owe it to you.”
“Yes, I think you are correct. You owe it to yourself.” Bleu continued to watch him as he paced the small kitchen. Blacque stopped and then turned to face him.
“There’s something between us, isn’t there? More than just hunger…lust…”
There it was. Bleu felt an unexpected twist in his chest. He remembered his earlier anger and the need to flee. He could deny it, but Bleu knew that honesty was always less painful in the end.
“Yes, Blacque, there is something between us. I’m very sad we did not have the chance to let it play out as it should have.” He rose and crossed the room, and he clasped one of Blacque’s hands in his. “If it helps, I’ll have your back. After dark, anyway.”
Blacque’s mouth quirked into a lopsided smile. “I’ll keep feeding you as long as you need.”
Bleu let his eyes drop closed. “No, Blacque. I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” He forced a smile, barely able to believe his own words. “Once more…tonight, and then I will be fine. I’m very nearly healthy now.” It was a lie, but a necessary one. He didn
’t want the wolf distracted by a misguided sense of obligation.
“You’re probably right. Feeding and sex seems to be pretty much the same thing with you.” Blacque squeezed his hand and then picked up the other. Bleu opened his eyes and looked at him.
“They are very much the same thing.” He glanced down at their linked hands. “Right now, I am hungry.”
“Good.” Blacque’s voice was harsh. “I’m really hungry for you too.” He reached out and caught Bleu’s head, pulled it close, and rested their foreheads together. “I’m not sorry this happened. Not in the least.” He leaned back and looked into Bleu’s face. “I’m just sorry…” He sighed, catching the contradiction in his words.
“I know, pup.” He was sorry to find happiness and then to have to push it away so quickly. He was sorry to leave Bleu alone again. He was sorry for himself.
“Remember, Blacque. I’m a vampire. I’ve lost before. Besides, we’re still neighbors. I’ll be in the next unit over. If you need me for anything…well…” He lifted one shoulder.
“Where’d you grow up, Bleu? France?”
“A small village inland of Nice. It was—is called Sisteron.” He smiled a bit, remembering so very long ago. “I understand it is still very beautiful. My father was a wealthy tradesman. We had a good life.”
“Until the war.”
He reached up and cupped Blacque’s jaw in his hand. “That is the past. I already spend far too much time there.” He slid his hand back behind the wolf’s strong neck and pulled him close. He feathered his mouth over Blacque’s, not opening his lips, just teasing.
“Let’s do it, then.”
“Yes, Blacque. Let’s do it.”
Chapter 11
Blacque expected balls-to-the-wall, dominant sex from Bleu. There had been too many emotions in the air. Anger had flared and receded in his scent, keeping the wolf on edge. He was ready to roll over and submit, to bare his throat to the vampire. Instead Bleu gently led him to the bedroom. They undressed slowly, using the light from the bathroom to illuminate the room.
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