Silence. Then, “Like I’d die if I didn’t have him. You think this Conduit might be your mate?”
“I do.” There, he’d admitted it. Out loud. To someone else. He still doubted, but his draw to her didn’t abate at all, only grew in intensity.
“Claim her. Right now.”
Bastian chuckled. “It’s not that easy.”
“Boy, if others find out what you have, what your mate is, they will try to take her. It’s been eons since I’ve encountered a Conduit. Vampires killed that one rather than let him live and be claimed. I’m not even sure why I told you about them.”
“Her sister was my lover, Henri.”
“So?”
“It makes things a little more complex. She’s unsure of where she stands or what she should do.”
“Feelings never pay attention to details like that. And if Evangeline finds out what you have ... She will not hesitate to kill the girl and take the power spike to finish you off.”
“I know.” Bastian closed his eyes.
“You are sure of what you have?”
“I took a drop of her blood, and it made me feel beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. A high I’ve not had since I became.”
“Bast, I ... well, I have a special case living here at my house. I think she would be of some help to your Conduit. Perhaps she and her lover could help you, as well.”
Bastian frowned. “A special case?”
Henri tittered, something Bastian had never heard the man do. “It’s ... someone you have to see to believe. A powerful human.”
“You want to send her to me?”
“Her and her mate. They have been looking at the bonding rituals. To see if they can bond. She ... she’s unprecedented in my knowledge.”
Bastian’s eyebrows raised. That was saying something, considering the fount of knowledge Henri drew from. “Go ahead and share. If they want to come, fine. It can’t hurt anything.”
“D’accord. You stay safe, mon étudiant.”
Bastian hung up the phone. What was Copper doing right now? Perhaps he should go check on her. Fool. You like to be tortured. He blew out a breath. Assured himself he only went to check on her safety, still concerned about the noise he’d heard.
* * * * *
Crimson yanked at the bonds tying her wrists. Tight. The damn bitch checked her often, making sure the ties stayed secure.
When you screw up, you screw up big. She’d gotten herself into a real fix. And didn’t know how to get herself out.
Tears streaked down her face.
Copper had come. Crimson strained against the bonds again. They wouldn’t budge.
“Dammit!”
They had left her alone. It wouldn’t be for long. They’d come back. She swallowed, her throat dry, her tongue prickly. Needed water. Her body shuddered. The bitch would touch her. They’d all bite her. Over and over again.
She hadn’t told them who Copper was. No matter what they did to her. She’d kept her sister’s identity within her.
Evangeline’s mental powers weren’t as strong as Bastian’s. Otherwise, she never could have hid it from her. Bastian could read her mind as easily as reading a book. Evangeline kept slapping at her mind, but couldn’t break the seal to the information.
Not that it mattered. They’d go after Copper and bring her here.
She kicked the bed in frustration. No, they couldn’t do this to Copper. Copper ... was the good one.
She never should have called her. She’d been running scared. Hadn’t dared call Bastian. Not thinking. Or she never would have dragged her sister into the mess she’d made of her life.
It would be so much easier if she could blame Bastian.
But she couldn’t.
Her fault. And hers alone.
All because she wanted something Bastian wouldn’t give her.
When she’d met Bastian De Luca and found his true nature, it had been fascinating. Exciting. A vampire. He liked to bite. She liked a little pain with her sex. Kismet.
He’d weaned her away from the S&M bubble she’d trapped herself in. Probably had saved her from a big hurt. She’d been getting less and less safe with it.
She hated him and adored him at the same time for doing that. Why had he cared so much? Only not enough to do other things.
And then Etien Malloy had come. She’d been drifting back into the scenes she’d left. Like a junkie too long from a fix. He’d told her of his Mistress, who had offered her the world. Or at least a chance to stay in it forever.
Immortality.
Who in their right mind would turn it down? All she’d had to do was disappear and lead Bastian to Evangeline at the right time. To talk. Simply to talk. Vampires were immortal. So she’d known delivering Bastian couldn’t hurt him. Only when they’d begun, they had insisted Crimson go with them, instead of hiding by herself. And they’d talked and talked and the more they did, the more she didn’t like the way they discussed Bastian.
She’d been mad at him for stifling her. For not offering her the gift of forever life. For not loving her enough, though she didn’t love him. Never had. But she had never wanted to physically hurt him. Or worse.
Bastian had told her all about vampires one stormy night at his house. He’d neglected to tell her one small fact.
Vampires could be killed only by other vampires.
She’d learned that lesson after she’d run.
She’d bolted, scared. And done a dumb, chicken-shit thing. She’d called her sister. And the vampire retrieval squad had caught up to her while she’d still been talking.
They had killed the homeless guy in the alley so he wouldn’t talk about them abducting her. And one of their own for mangling his body too much. They’d dustbusted him up with a car-battery-run vacuum.
She’d heard him scream, seen him die and pulverize into ash.
They would kill Bastian. Evangeline had been bent on revenge. Crimson had been a pawn in a game.
And Copper now sat directly in Evangeline’s sights.
* * * * *
Lucy waited until Tad went off with Pope, heading for Pope’s room. She tossed off the covers, her plain beige comforter that Bastian had given her. Everything she had, Bastian had provided, showing his love.
Swallowing, she pulled on her tight jeans and ultra-tight lycra shirt. No bra. The tits would bounce tonight. Slipped on her kicking shoes. Not exactly her old slutty clothes, but they’d have to do.
After doing her makeup and teasing up her hair, she opened her window. The night air was cool and caressing against her skin. A breeze blew. Magnolia blossoms fluttered back and forth in the wind.
Swinging across to the tree branch, she shimmied down the huge magnolia tree. Not as straightforward to climb as the maple she’d used when she’d lived at home to escape. But good enough.
She rubbed her hands on her jeans, getting off the tree sap. The wind tickled her cheeks, rocking her hair back and forth. She should have put it up. But how many men told her they loved the long hair? And for what she had in mind, she needed to attract them.
She looked behind her at Bastian’s house. Her lips drew up into a pucker. No way in hell was she leaving there. The bitch could dry up and rot before she’d leave. And leave Bastian to her clutches. The bitch would not have her man. No way.
She could tell Bastian secretly doubted she could make it on her own. She’d show him. Starting tonight. Then he’d admit to himself what they were to each other.
Soul mates.
She’d known it the first time she’d laid eyes on him, as she lay dying in that blasted gutter. Well, not really dying. But beaten and cut so close, life barely flickered. He’d been her angel then. Saved her. Her romantic hero later. The one she wanted above all others. The one who’d always keep her safe. She wouldn’t lose him. She couldn’t.
He was the only man who could ever understand what she’d done. Run away from home and out of money in St. Louis on the way to LA. And stayed. And whored. For whoeve
r paid the money.
Bastian knew her.
She sidled around the side of the house, and made for the street. If all went well, she should be back before she’d been missed.
She headed down the streets, counting cracks. Headed deeper into the city. She’d walked these same streets all the time hooking.
Blade’s.
Lucy smiled and tossed her long hair behind her. Entered the bar with a sashay. She caught the bouncer’s head turn to watch her ass as she strutted.
Flashing lights greeted her adjusting eyes. An open floor plan with a dance floor in the middle. The upper floor looked down on the central action. A bar on the first floor with barstools and a few haphazard tables. The pictures and carpet brought one word to mind -- gothic. It suited a place where vamps were known to hang out in the city.
A tall black man slunk around the dance floor like he owned it. She slipped in behind him, doing the dirty bump and grind. When he turned to do her from behind, his huge dick rubbed against her ass. He wore skintight pants that left nothing the imagination. A huge dick, probably bubbling up with pre-come.
Shivering, she leaned her head back against his chest, rubbing her ass against him. Not Bastian, but still the most dominant man in the place. Bastian could have had his entrails for an appetizer.
“Oh, baby.” His moan sounded guttural.
She grabbed his face, kissed him, her tongue searching his mouth, deeply exploring, sliding along the sides, along his teeth.
No fangs.
She withdrew her mouth from his. He groaned.
“Sorry, but you aren’t my type.” She purred the words, patted his cheek while doing one last thrust against him with her other cheeks, and off she sauntered across the dance floor.
“Cock tease.” His grunt followed her.
She shook her hair back so it flowed under the flashing lights. So many men had wanted her to wrap that hair around her naked self. Somewhere there were pictures of her. Bastian loved to play with her hair. He would again. Feed. Take her. Make her his. This would ensure it. She had to keep looking.
Vampires should have a secret tattoo or something, so she’d know where to find them. Of course, the management might not know about their clients.
Across the second floor balcony, he stood, his long blond hair -- longer than hers -- stretching down to the middle of his back. He had it pulled back in a ponytail. Guys shouldn’t have prettier hair than her. His dark purple shirt lay open to the waist, revealing two pierced nipples. His tight leather pants could have been done with spray paint.
He saw her interest, and his eyes lit in the murky darkness of the club.
She leaned her head down, winking at him.
His gait was loose-limbed and eager as he approached her. Reminded her of a cowboy who’d gotten off his horse. Or of an antelope. Looked funny on a man who might be a predator. She eyed his mouth. Please have fangs.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“You sure can.” She licked her lips, obviously, his eyes trained on her mouth.
His fangs gleamed in his smile.
“Oh my. What big teeth you have.” She reached up to stroke his chest. Downy hair sprang to her fingertips. The soft skin pressed against her like cotton fabric after a wash with fabric softener. He smelled nice, too. Summer fresh. Like dryer sheets. She pushed down a giggle at the laundry thoughts. Her day tomorrow at the house.
“The better to taste you with.” He waggled his brows as he ordered her a shot of tequila and himself a beer.
“I thought that was tongue? That tasted? Teeth bite.”
“Well, yeah.” He leaned in to whisper, “I only bite when asked real nice.”
She giggled. “A big tongue can do wonders, too.”
His laugh strangled out. She saw the crease against the growing bulge in his pants. He shifted his feet.
She tugged on a nipple ring, causing his breath to suck in. “Hurt?”
“Not exactly.”
“Damn, if it were hurt, I’d soothe it a little.” She poked her lips out, giving him dewy eyes like he’d taken away her fun.
He swallowed. “Maybe it hurt a little.”
She leaned over, twirling her tongue around the small brown nub of puckered flesh. Then drew it into her mouth, sucking hard. He hissed.
“Better?” She leaned over, giving the other one the same treatment.
“Oh, yeah.” He groaned, fisting a hand in her hair. He brought her over to his lap. She wiggled her bottom against his hardness.
“What a big dick you have.” Lucy smiled. Men, so easy to manipulate. Little touch, tell them their dick is huge, and give them hope of pussy, they’d do anything. Bastian was the exception to that rule. The waitress dropped off their drinks.
“The better to fuck you with.” He growled. His lips claimed hers. Hard. Fast. Driving. Both panted as he released her.
She regained her breath. “So do you know Evangeline? Or someone who does?”
She’d heard enough of Bastian having a conversation with someone. Evangeline, someone she’d figured out was a vampire, wanted Crimson for revenge on Bastian. Lucy would ensure Bastian wouldn’t be hurt. Like an immortal could die. Crimson was human. She’d die by Evangeline’s hand. And Lucy would be all the comfort Bastian needed. If this vampire couldn’t take her to Evangeline, she’d find one who could.
His black eyes hooded quickly. He passed her back to her own chair. “Who wants to know?” He grabbed her shoulders in his tight hands.
She looked down at each one. Didn’t protest. “I’m Lucy. And I’ll have Crimson to her by tomorrow night.” Damn, the words sounded even better coming out of her mouth than they had in her head.
“Really?”
Lucy nodded, downing half of the newly brought drink. “Really.” She licked alcohol from her lips, liking the taste on her tongue. His eyes followed the movement. So, she licked again. Teasing him. Rubbing her lips with it.
He swallowed, the sound harsh. “She will want proof. That you can do what you say you can do.”
She slung back the other half of her drink. “I can prove it. By delivering the goods. I can make your Mistress a happy woman. And as you found me, I’m sure she’ll provide a finder’s fee to you. Advantageous to both of us.”
He sipped his alcohol, leaning back away from her. “What do you want in return? And my name’s Etien.”
“Something I’m sure your Mistress won’t mind doing one bit.”
“And what’s that?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Kill the red-haired bitch.”
* * * * *
Copper rolled over in the bed. Threw off the covers. She couldn’t sleep. Too much whirled in her brain. Did Bastian sleep yet?
He’s a vampire. Creature of the night.
He’d admitted to her daylight wasn’t his preferred time of day. So he probably hadn’t gone to bed yet. Was he hunting for her sister? What the hell would happen now? And if Bastian thought he’d keep her out it, well, her pointy little shoes would walk all over his ass. She’d never gone for “Yes, let’s let the big, strong man handle it.”
Her boyfriends were always wimps. Crimson had commented on it more than once.
Bastian wasn’t.
And he’s not yours.
She sighed. Opened her window. Wind danced across her face, tickling it, bringing sweet smells on the crisp air. Honeysuckle. She loved the scent. Reminded her of summertime and cruising back-country roads with the windows open.
She closed her eyes and inhaled. Magnolia, faint and pure.
A light rap on her door made her turn.
“Tad, I told you, you didn’t have to come pick my tray back up.”
Bastian slid the door open. “Sorry. It’s not Tad.”
“Oh. Oh. No need to be sorry.” She gulped, her hands grasping the bottom of her long T-shirt and pulling it down to cover. Mistake. His eyes followed the movement. As they drifted up and down her body, she shivered, wanting more than his eyes on her. She shi
fted her hips, her underwear too tight. “What’s up?”
“I ...” His eyes made it up to meet hers. “I came to check on you.”
“Well, I’m fine.” Her breath felt like it weighed as much as a brick, getting it out of her chest. “Fine and dandy.”
“That’s good.”
“Uh huh.”
They both stood silent a minute.
“Bastian ...”
“Copper ...”
Copper chuckled. “Jinx.” She and Crimson had done that all the time as kids. Said things together.
“What?”
“That’s what you say when you say something at the same time as someone else. Usually, it’s the same thing, but I figured with us saying the other’s name, it was like that.” Drowning. In his eyes. Or burning. And she wasn’t sure which. But, the longer they looked at her, the more she knew it was one of the two. Her pussy moisture slicked between her legs. All her attention focused on that spot.
Could he feel this too? This electric pulse running between the two of them? Her eyes looked down at the center of his body. One. Hard. Cock. Her breath whooshed out in a heady rush.
His nostrils twitched. “Dammit.” Two steps and he had her. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her to him. His lips descended and surprised her with a gentle exploration. His mouth sought hers, his tongue tracing her lips for entry.
She moaned. Fire swept over her even at that gentle touch. She leaned into his body, rubbing herself against the hard feel of it.
His tongue plunged in. Her knees wobbled. The feel of his tongue chasing hers was exquisite.
His hands tangled in her hair, stroking through it. He pressed his erection into her middle. She rubbed against it. The ache between her legs intensified. She throbbed. Wanted. She put her hands on his ass, squeezing his backside, pulling him closer.
He had the nicest butt. Like her hands were meant to cup it. She wanted to nip it, to kiss it, see it bare before her eyes.
With a growl, he pinned her against the wall. His hands cupped her rear. Her shirt had slid up out of the way so her underwear was the only barrier between his hands and her ass. She moaned at all the swirling sensations.
Combustion.
Every part of her rested against him.
So hard, so large. She couldn’t get any wetter.
Blood Lines: Conduit Page 10
