Praise for the writing of Mechele Armstrong
Blood Lines: Blood Kiss
From the chilling beginning in the mind of a villain to the dramatic climax this was a wellplotted suspenseful tale of love and murder… The tingle of suspense throughout the story and the love of two like souls make a terrific read in the dark of the night. -- Kirra Pierce, Just Erotic Romance Reviews Readers will be drawn in and enthralled by the incredible mix of sensuality and darkness that fills the pages and makes your heart skip a beat. Mechele Armstrong has created a fantastic story that is hot, sultry, and fun to read. -- Tammy, Fallen Angel Reviews If you are looking for a good vampire romance to read this Halloween season and want to try someone new, look no further than Blood Kiss by Mechele Armstrong. -- Barb Hicks, The Best Reviews I enjoyed everything about this paranormal tale. Ms. Armstrong creates a fantastic story that kept me glued to page after page of this hot read. The characters and setting pulled me right in. -- Klarissa, Joyfully Reviewed If you enjoy a dark, gritty story with plenty of hot sex, Blood Kiss is for you. -- Belinda S. Mays, Romance Reviews Today
Blood Lines: Blood Kiss is now available from Loose Id.
BLOOD LINES: CRIMSON’S ROSE
Mechele Armstrong
www.loose-id.com
Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
***** This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and some violence.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose Mechele Armstrong This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com
Copyright © April 2006 by Mechele Armstrong All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 1-59632-209-8 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Erin Mullarkey Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter
Dedication To my critique partners, especially Shy and Melissa, thanks for your hard work at keeping me straight, and to Erin, my editor, for all the commas and work she puts in to make sure I'm even straighter.
Chapter One
Rojo Rose stretched out in the bed with a yawn. Damn hotel didn’t have anything bigger than a king. His body kinks had kinks. You’re getting too old for this shit. The whore from last night had given him quite a ride, though. He’d needed unwinding after the meal he’d taken. The night’s hunt had been difficult. Mafia men always made good prey. He folded an arm over his eyes. The door to his cheap room burst open. Rojo didn’t take his hand off his face. “This better be fucking good.” “Lang wants to see you.” A deep, unfamiliar voice, not Lang’s, echoed across the dimly lit walls. He could hear the breathing of another man right behind the first one. He sprang up with a knife, holding it out in front of him with a simple twist of his body. The one who’d come in through his door backed up a step. “Don’t run from me. It makes me want to run after you.” He bared his teeth. The man swished back and forth on his feet, but stayed still. “You ever take down my door like this again, you’ll wish to God I’d killed you right now. I’ll make you eat it splinter by splinter.” “Rose.” The other man straightened. “Lang wants to see you.” “I’d make him eat the door, too.” Both men looked at him. He hated working for Lang. But nothing else was going on. No reason to turn down the job. Lang paid well and on time. Rojo didn’t like to be bored, either. “Ah, hell. I’ll come along.” He rolled off the bed, his long braid sliding behind him. Their eyes followed the movements of his body, centered on his dick. He drew out the process of reaching for his leather pants and pulling them on. Aroused people didn’t pay as
2
Mechele Armstrong
much attention as they did when unaroused. His mind flicked theirs, seeking to find out what Lang wanted. “You can play us all you want to. Lang wants to hire you,” the one whose nose had been broken a few times muttered, his eyes still trained on Rojo’s body. “That’s all we’re saying.” Rojo shrugged. “I’ll find out soon enough.” He pulled on a brown tunic, then long boots, sheathing his knife in one of them. “Lead the way.” “He’s not getting behind me, Charlie,” the other one muttered. “Afraid I’ll goose you?” Rojo waggled his eyebrows. “Ward.” “What? He’s not getting behind me.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not stupid.” “That remains to be seen, Ward.” Rojo’s words came out backed by irritation. As much he’d enjoy aggravating them, these clowns had already gotten on his nerves. “Can we get this show on the road? I’d like to see Lang before I die.” “Shut up, Rose.” Rojo’s eyes shifted to Charlie. “Feel free to make me, pudgy.” Charlie’s face puffed up, pinkening. “Fine, I’ll lead the way. Make another crack like that ...” “And you’ll what?” Rojo folded his arms across his chest, keeping his face expressionless. “I’ll ... I’ll do something.” “Uh-huh.” He sauntered behind Ward to the pickup truck, which only had a front seat. Another argument erupted over who got to drive and who had to sit by him. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two were scared of me.” Rojo leaned back against the car. They looked at each other, then warily back at him. He grinned at them, not a reassuring one, but a leering one. Two faces glared back at him. Lackeys were so easy to rile. Lang needed to find himself better help. The only reason the vampires didn’t back down from him was that they were more scared of Lang. Ward finally climbed in to drive, and Charlie sat in the middle with Rojo on the end. Rojo stretched out on the seat, making sure his large frame spread out as much as possible. Charlie scrunched up beside him. “You need to talk to Lang about bigger vehicles. Leave it to him to get a baby truck instead of a grown-up one.” “You could scoot over.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
3
“But then I’d not get the pleasure of your body against mine, pudgy.” Charlie’s eyes darkened. Was it anger or desire? Either would distract him, but neither would be in Rojo’s favor. “Keep quiet, Rose.” Anger laced his voice. Charlie didn’t like references to his weight. The young vampire had had a few too many blood specials. Only those kept in blood by stronger vampires had that problem. It was harder to find prey without good looks. The States were notoriously looks-conscious in certain circles. Though it would have been fun to keep baiting them, Rojo quietly watched the scenery flash by on the drive to Lang’s. A white mansion with an ornate, columned front porch sat above the road. They pulled into its driveway. So Lang had had enough time to get entrenched in Denver. He hadn’t known Lang was in town. Not that he looked much for other vamps.
What does he want with me? Rojo didn’t have a clue. He rarely worked for other vampires. Rojo exited the pickup truck with Charlie quickly spilling out behind him. He stretched himself to his full height and looked down at Charlie, who backed up three steps. “Where’s Lang?” Ward motioned with a hand. “This way.” Rojo’s booted feet clicked on the granite in the entryway. They climbed carpeted steps to the second floor. Ward reached a set of double doors and knocked. “We have Rose.” “Bring him in,” came the muffled reply. Ward swung both doors open to a bedroom. Completely done in black and white, the contrast overwhelmed at first. The bed was huge and would have easily accommodated Rojo’s frame. Several chairs and matching dressers punctuated the room’s décor. Lang sat on a divan chair, a busty blond on his lap. Covering him with her body, she wore nothing, and presumably neither did he, from the looks of it. Lang was almost as tall as Rojo; it was hard to hide all of him under a shorter person. He leaned down, his tongue tracing the side of her neck. He lapped, coming away bloody as he retracted his tongue. She shivered, breasts jiggling. “Join me, Rose?” He pulled the blond’s head around to display her neck wound. Rojo shook his head. “I already ate.” “Pity. Her blood is sweet.” Giggling, she traced her fingers around Lang’s chest. Rojo studied the woman. Was she a regular feeder or entertainment for the night? Probably the latter. “I’m sure she’s the sweetest you’ve had in a long time. Especially considering the meals you take.” “I’m sure you didn’t bring me here to discuss my eating habits. What do you want, Lang?” Ward and Charlie stood at either side of him. He straightened his stance, widening his legs. “And call off Jack Sprat and Mr. No Lean. Are they the best you could do?”
4
Mechele Armstrong
Lang fondled a breast, the nipple hardening under his fingers. “Good help is hard to find these days.” He waved a hand. Charlie and Ward moved away and sat down in chairs on opposite sides of the room. “Except for you. I have a job I think might interest you.” “Do tell.” “Why don’t you have a seat?” “No.” Being friendly with Lang wasn’t something he intended to do. Best to stay alert and on his feet. Lang clucked his tongue. “You don’t trust my hospitality?” “No.” Lang guffawed. “You don’t trust anyone, do you?” “No, I don’t.” “Is your rule still in effect?” Rojo didn’t sleep with other vampires. “Yes.” Lang had attempted to change his mind the first time Rojo had worked for him. “Pity.” Sighing, Lang pushed the blond off his lap. “Go find yourself something to eat. You’ll need your strength later.” She nodded. “I know I will.” She winked and headed out of the doorway. Lang squirmed in the chair. His hips moved around, thrusting his erection out in front of his toned, tan body. Rojo kept his eyes on Lang’s face. Lang played the same game he did -- distraction. Rojo didn’t need the temptation of a little dick. Lang pushed at his mind, but was successfully kept out. “What do you want, Lang?” “I want you to bring me a girl.” Lang leaned back in the chair, flexing his heavy arm muscles. His brown hair lay tousled around his shoulders, and he shoved a wavy lock back into place. “Losing your charm?” Not that he’d had a clue what Lang wanted, but this was unexpected. Rojo didn’t deliver people. Generally, he killed them. “Watch that sharp tongue. Or I’ll put it to use before I cut it out.” Lang growled, and Ward hopped up. A nod from Lang had him sitting back down again. “Her name is Crimson Daly.” “How much?” “Half a million up front. Another half million when you deliver.” A hell of a lot of money. Rojo kept his face cool. The things he could do with that money, instead of making do. “OK.” Rojo nodded. “Tell me where I can find her.” “That’s what I like about you, Rose. No questions asked. She is living with an older vampire, Henri Baptiste.” Lang’s brown eyes snapped at that.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
5
A history existed between Lang and Henri. What was it? Rojo had heard the name of Henri Baptiste, but he’d never had the pleasure. Rojo wouldn’t get close enough to Henri to find out what existed between him and Lang. A good fight every now and then was necessary. But Rojo was young. Henri was old. He could do the math to figure out how much of a chance he had -- nil or none. Henri was known for his no-killing-humans policy. He’d not killed for meals for a long time, from what Rojo had heard. “Where are they?” “Here in Denver. I want you to fetch her and bring her to me. It will take time and finesse. I don’t want Henri to hunt me down two minutes after I have her. Take as long as you need, but don’t make it easy for them to figure out it was a kidnapping.” “Why don’t you send your own people in?” He waved a hand to indicate Charlie and Ward. An exasperated expression crossed Lang’s face, which would always be stuck in the same pouting, boyish cast. “You’ve met them. I’m sure you see why. I have a file for you on Crimson. She’s crazy. Should be easy enough for you to take her.” Lang pushed up out his chair, walked to his shiny black nightstand, and pulled out a file. He sauntered back to Rojo. “Here.” Rojo took it in hand. “I’ll take the job. I want my upfront money now.” Lang grinned, going back to the nightstand and pulling out a thick envelope. “Don’t disappoint me, Rose.”
***** Crimson pulled her blood bag out of the fridge, looking over the bar into the living room. “What are you watching, Nathan?” Nathan sat in the living room on the dark gray love seat, feet pulled up under him. His long blond hair was loose around his shoulders. He’d cut it when they’d left Paris so it no longer reached his ass. She had been trying to grow out her own locks, and Nathan’s had already grown more than hers. Men shouldn’t have prettier hair than hers. “Things to do in Denver when you’re Dead.” He grinned at her, blue eyes twinkling as he tossed her a wink, too. He switched off the movie, heading for the kitchen. “Oh, that’s bad. Even for you and your humor.” Henri came around the corner, going to the bar between the kitchen and living room and settling on a gray-cushioned bar stool. Nathan joined him. “He has always been bad. Why I put up with it, I do not know.” Henri poured a glass of wine. He drank one every evening. It was his only consumption of food besides blood. She sat down on the stool by Nathan. “Because you love how I ...”
6
Mechele Armstrong
“Nathan.” Henri cut him off. His bronzed face scowled. Henri had been Egyptian in his human days before reinventing himself as a Frenchman. His skin never paled, though he rarely went out in sunlight. His dark brown hair had gotten a little longer than usual, but still was short along his neck. Henri had a stocky build that was deceiving. It was all thick power, packed with the kind of muscles that clenched even at rest. “Do not tell all our secrets.” Nathan laughed. Henri pulled him in for a deep kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around his lover. She looked down at the blood and began to sip it. Henri and Nathan always physically demonstrated their attraction for each other. It didn’t usually bother her. But with the lovebirds Copper and Bastian under the same roof, sometimes the flowing love-fest was retch-inducing. “How was your swim?” Henri had broken off for air. Both of them had darkened eyes and heavy breathing. They wouldn’t be sitting up late tonight talking with everyone else. “OK.” She swam every night. “Did you finally talk to the hunky lifeguard?” Nathan leaned away from Henri, turning his attention back to her. “No.” She smiled. Nathan was forever trying to fix her up. She took another sip of blood. Her stomach made a loud rumbling sound. Henri picked his glass back up, his face thoughtful. “You forgot to eat again. I noticed it when I got up. I’ve told you, you must eat before you go out. So you don’t view the world as your banquet.” She shrugged. She’d forgotten to eat as a human half the time; it wouldn’t be any different as a vampire just because she now scarfed blood instead food. Of course, now she had an animal that controlled her when it didn’t get its due. She hated its rule over her, the way the blood lust would sweep through and how out of control she could be. “Crimson, if you don’t eat before you go out, you’ll hurt someone.” And if she hurt someone, he’d kill her. She sighed, hating the disappointment in his voice. “I’ll get better, Henri. Promise.” Nathan patted her leg. “You will, Red.” She smiled at his use of his pet name for her, though he mostly used it when she was upset. Copper pranced into the kitchen, followed by Bastian. “Good evening.” Were you getting lectured? Copper spoke the latter in Crimson’s mind. They had had the ability to mindtalk since Crimson had become a vampire, even when Copper had still been human.
Shut up, sis. You forgot to eat again. Crimson gritted her teeth. If only she could shut out her sister when she was being a pain. But Copper had stronger telepathic abilities. Crimson couldn’t block her. Henri said
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
7
their ease at telepathy had been caused by their strong connection as twins. It was shitty at times, though. Especially since Crimson didn’t possess the same strength in powers. Yes, I
forgot to eat again. Bite me. Copper shook her hair back. “Testy, are we, sis?” She kissed Henri’s and Nathan’s cheeks, having taken on European mannerisms during her and Bastian’s stay in Italy, and moved to the fridge for her own bag of blood, collecting one for Bastian, too. Crimson closed her eyes, letting the blood hit her system. Because of her problems, they rarely took blood other ways now. Or at least not since Paris. She didn’t want to think about that right now. Didn’t want to be around her perfect vampire sister and make small talk either. Not that she ever felt like doing much talking to Copper anymore. She pushed away from the bar. “I’ll be back.” “Going to your roses?” Henri took another sip of his wine. His dark eyes shrewdly surveyed her. She nodded. Copper smiled, a drop of blood on her lips. “Want me to come out with you?” “No!” Crimson snapped. The look of hurt in her sister’s eyes made her swallow. “I ... always go out back alone.” “But ...” “No one comes with me.” Nathan nodded. “She doesn’t let anyone in the greenhouse. I say she’s got porn stashed in there.” “But ...” Copper struggled with words. Then with a worried frown, she continued, “I’ll see you in a little bit, then, Crim.” Crimson nodded. “Please don’t follow me.” She saw the worried look Copper exchanged with Bastian. But telling her sister not to worry wouldn’t stop her from doing it. She needed the time alone, the time with her roses with no one else there. It helped her gain some command over the beast inside her, this vampire animal that sometimes raged out of her control. The roses calmed her. She went out the back door. The yard lay dark, the moon barely a sliver above it. Someone, probably Nathan, flipped on the lights. There was the greenhouse. The warm air puffed at her face as she opened the door. She’d squealed when Nathan and Henri bought it for her. Denver didn’t lend itself to long months with flowers, because of the cold weather. The scent of roses lay sweetly in the air. Hers. All hers. She blew out a breath. Then she began to repot a Tiffany rose desperately in need of a bigger place to grow.
8
Mechele Armstrong
***** Rojo slung back a shot of tequila, opening the file. A picture fell out of it, and he picked it up. The thin face, which stared back at him, haunted him. Red hair. Green eyes. She was a stunning creature. Long and lean, as he liked them, with legs that could wrap around a man and hold on tight. He frowned. Lang would break her. Whatever he wanted with her couldn’t be good. He’d seen women after Lang was done. The blond Lang had been with might look good now, but by tomorrow she’d be a bitten-up piece of human flesh whether she was dead or alive. She’d probably wish to be dead, if she was alive. Reaching out a finger, he traced Crimson’s face. Then snapped it back. What the hell was he doing? She was a job. One that would make him a lot of money. She was nothing but a pretty face and a piece of ass, not worth him getting emotionally invested. He set about reading her file. She was newly made by the vampire Bastian De Luca after having been killed by the vampiress Evangeline. So she connected to Henri, as Henri had made Bastian, which meant she’d be able to contact him mentally over short distances. Rojo would have to use caution taking her. He didn’t want a confrontation with the man whose fighting techniques were legend. He’d avoid it if he could. Crimson was unstable. He tapped a finger on his glass. That he could use. He’d contact her. And set about undoing everything Henri was doing to make her stable. Then he’d whisk her away to Lang. He’d collect his money and go live in luxury for a while. He had some mobsters he wanted to target in Borneo. They’d make great meals. He looked at her picture again. Ordered another shot and saluted the girl who would make him rich.
***** Lang sank his teeth into the blond’s thigh. She strained against the bonds that held her to the metal bed frame. Already weakened by blood loss, she had no chance of getting free. He tired of her incessant giggling, her jiggling boobs. Time for her to be the meal she’d been intended for. Nothing said he couldn’t have a little fun first. She softly cried out, only slightly audible through her gag. He sipped the blood from her thigh as though it were a goblet. A noise drew his attention from his meal. Ward and Charlie entered his room. “Rose is back at his hotel.” “Good. He should go after the girl shortly.” Lang ran his hand up the girl’s fleshy thigh, delving into her pussy’s depths. He toyed with her labia and clit like he would pet a cat. “I want you two to shadow Crimson. Look for a moment when she’s alone.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
9
Their faces scrunched in puzzlement, staring at each other, then back at him. “You hired Rose to get Crimson.” “I did. But if you two clowns get her first, I won’t have to pay him. And surely he or you will be successful. Don’t let him know you’re after her, either. I want this kept quiet. Don’t draw a lot of attention to yourselves.” Perhaps if Rose wasn’t successful, Lang would finally entice the boy into his bed. He’d love to get into those leather pants and between those steely dark thighs. “Take your time. Don’t take her by force. I don’t want Henri to come after me too soon after I get her.” Ward cleared his throat. “Boss, why did you hire that nutjob?” Continuing his fondling, Lang squeezed the blond’s clit tightly between his fingers. Her eyes grew wide with pain and pleasure. Her breath came in pants. “A crazy to catch a crazy. Plus, with his name being Rose and her obsession with roses, it might knock her off balance. To catch the thorn, sometimes you do have to send in a rose.” Her hips bucked as a climax took over her body. Charlie swallowed deeply. His eyes were trained on the pink pulsing flesh under Lang’s hands. “Did Rose suspect why I want her?” Lang pulled his fingers from her channel. “Not that we could tell.” “Good. He didn’t seem to.” Lang had read his mind as much as he could before Rose left the house. The young one was good at keeping others out of his mind. He’d always wondered how Rose had gotten so good so quickly. And what he had to hide. But the boy wouldn’t let him get close enough to find out. Only his maker could read him that well, and she was dead, supposedly at Rose’s own hand. The last thing he wanted was Rose to know Crimson was a probable Conduit. He would leash her power and strip it for himself. He’d invented a reason to satisfy his minions’ curiosity, not trusting them with the true reason either. He smiled. If he could kill Henri Baptiste along the way, it would be a nice bonus.
10
Mechele Armstrong
Chapter Two Rojo tapped lightly on the steering wheel, looking up at the huge gray Colonial-style house with no front porch. Heavy blinds and curtains covered all the front windows with red shutters bracketing them to match the front door. How appropriate to have a house with accent colors that matched its inhabitants. Someone had a weird sense of humor. He leaned forward, peering out of his window, taking in the house, looking for ways to get in. No trees stood close enough to the windows. “Where are you, Crimson? Which room is yours?” At noon, she’d be curled up in her bed. That’s where he’d be if he didn’t need to observe the place without a chance of being caught while he constructed his battle plan. Getting killed by Henri Baptiste was not in his agenda. Would she sleep naked? It’s your fantasy, dumbass. Go for it. Yes, she’d be naked. The blanket would have slipped down, exposing one full breast. A pale nipple would pucker out in the chilled air. A supple thigh would be tossed over the coverlet as she lay on her side with one leg tucked under the covers. Her hair would lay tousled across the pillow like red silk. He’d stroke that hair, wrapping it in his fingers as he drove home to come inside of her.
Holy hell. Cut that out. His thoughts of her had been turning this way since he’d seen her picture, having had some erotic daydreams about her as he’d tried to sleep before coming here. He kept reminding himself she was a job, nothing more. But it didn’t seem to be working. His dick didn’t care that she was a delivery.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
11
The sun’s glare made his eyes water, even under his black sunglasses. He scratched at his chest. His skin prickled. The daytime had gotten to him. That was why he kept thinking of her like that. Had to be that. He’d never thought of a woman so much, especially one he hadn’t even met yet. Pushing open his car door, he unfolded himself and crossed the street. The nondescript black Honda he’d rented didn’t stand out, and there were a million others like it, but it didn’t suit his large frame. Business before comfort. He sidled along the house around to the back. A worn wooden privacy fence surrounded the yard. A wild green bush loomed over the front corner by the gate. Gates sometimes made noise. All the vampires in the house should be in bed. Humans wouldn’t wake up with the sound. But vampires might. He couldn’t chance that. Putting his hands at the top of the fence, he leaped it, coming down on the other side with a slight thump. He scratched his thigh, yawning as he looked up at the bright sunshine. Bed was where he should be. The house had a wood-planked deck that ran along the whole backside. A patio table and six matching green metal chairs sat on it, along with a grill. Rojo blinked. A grill? They must be trying to fit into suburbia. Or it had come with the house? Grilled blood didn’t sound that appetizing. Turning, he faced the back of the yard. A medium-sized greenhouse took up much of the rest of the space. Two tall maple trees stood on either side of the building. Whose greenhouse was it? Only one way to find out. He ambled over to the door, which had no lock. He took the cold metal in his hand and pulled it open. Warmth hit him, blowing across his face like a tropical wind along with the heady scent of roses. He roamed in between the double set of shelves on either side holding lots and lots of roses. Not that he knew much about them, but they weren’t the easiest things to grow. It looked like a lot of varieties had been cultivated here. Someone had a lot of patience for these flowers. These plants had been well tended. They’d been loved. It had to be someone petite, because he couldn’t walk without nudging a shelf. At the back was a sink with a hose attached. A potting table with potting soil bags sat beside it. Dainty yellow gloves rested beside the soil bags with a trowel hanging on a hook in the table. Rojo picked up the gloves, sniffing them. In the greenhouse, besides the dirt, he still smelled roses -- that scent was overwhelming -- but something else lurked behind it. It was the same smell that clung to the gloves. The gloves were not men’s gloves. They weren’t big enough.
12
Mechele Armstrong
This place had to be Crimson’s. The sizes didn’t lend themselves to being for a man. Henri was not the biggest of men, but there’d been no mention of Henri having a thing for flowers. The light scent on the air and in the gloves had to be Crimson’s. His dick hardened. He glanced around the flowers, imagining her fingers toiling in the soil. Her hands would be smooth and small, with long fingers. They’d wrap so sweetly around his length, cupping and holding him. Shaking the thoughts off, he pocketed the gloves as he exited the greenhouse. No one would miss an old pair of gardening gloves, and he wanted to familiarize himself with the scent. He’d already known what she looked like, now he had an idea of what she smelled like. The time had come to meet face to face.
***** Crimson rolled over in bed, twisting and turning.
The red rose grew tall before her eyes, tripling in size. Its petals glowed such a vibrant red. She could look at it forever, the contrast of green and red, so eye-catching. The scent smelled so beautiful. It intoxicated her. She’d never seen a rose grow like this. It was huge, bigger than she was. Fear gripped her stomach, low and deep down. It clenched the muscles. Something was wrong. But she didn’t know what. And the flower lured her. It lulled her with its blissful scent and delicate beauty. She couldn’t resist one caress. As she reached out a hand to touch the rose, it yanked her into it, gripping her tightly. Were they leaves? It felt like arms, taking her close to it. A petal dipped down to run a swath across her lips. The light kiss had her moaning. She arched herself. The stem ground against the V between her thighs. The pressure increased with the next kiss. It tasted of chicory and cinnamon. She shifted, putting the stem against the perfect place, rocking herself against it, so close to orgasm she could taste it. She moaned, and her whole body stiffened. She had to come or go mad from the sensations. A thorn shifted up and plunged in, catching her in the chest. Pain exploded across her body with the orgasm ... Crimson panted, sitting up in bed. Her body cooled, dripping sweat. She pulled out her soaked nightshirt, looking down at her chest for a wound mark. Nothing was there. “Was that a dream?” Her heart pounded in her ears.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
13
Making out with a flower was bad enough. But then it had hurt her with a thorn. It had stabbed her with it. She’d known the danger, but couldn’t stay away. She’d never dreamed anything like it. It had been so real. So vivid. The beauty of the flower was still etched across her mind along with the final pain. She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “You’re nuts. You’ve finally freaking lost it.” She couldn’t calm down. Her throat closed up, constricting her airways. She couldn’t breathe. The imaginary hand grasped her throat and squeezed more. Her lungs wheezed, trying to pull in oxygen.
Can’t stay. Must ... get out. She leaped from the bed, her feet barely touching the floor, and pulled open the door. Taking the stairs two at a time, she flew down them. Had she screamed with the dream? She couldn’t be sure if she had or not. And she didn’t care. No sounds indicated anyone was up. But that could be because the blood still pounded in her ears, obscuring everything else. She wrenched open the back door and dashed across the yard. Pulling open the door to her greenhouse, she stepped inside. The warmth and the sweet sensual scents of roses enfolded her. She drowned in the heat that was radiated to keep the plants at a constant temperature. Her breathing slowly shuddered to normal as she moved all the way to the rear of the greenhouse. She took deep currents of air, grasping the table with her hands to stop the trembling, slowly bringing herself under control. She hadn’t thought about pain in a long time. Since she’d been turned. It used to be her getting-off catalyst. Until Evangeline. She raked her fingers through her hair, catching in a tangle. Several deep breaths later something caught her attention. Buried under the scent of her flowers loomed another one: sandalwood. And something spicy. It was faint, almost gone, but someone had been in here. It wasn’t a scent she recognized. Her heart pounded again, airways constricting in her chest. She grabbed her trowel off the wall. She scanned the entire greenhouse. There was nowhere for anyone to hide. The scent was faded enough to tell her it was old, but she did it anyway. She didn’t feel better. Her hands continued to quiver as she hung the tool back up. Someone had violated her space.
14
Mechele Armstrong
Crimson stayed in the greenhouse until her skin had reddened and dried from scratching. She always did her gardening after dark under the lights Henri had had installed for her, only going into the intensified sunlight when she had to. She glanced at her potting table under the hooks where she hung her tools. Could have sworn I left my gloves out here. Maybe the intruder had swiped them. That was silly. No one would want her old gardening gloves. She traipsed back into the house. Nathan lumbered into the kitchen wearing an old, faded pair of blue sweatpants. “What are you doing up so early?” His voice rumbled with a sleepy tenor. If he’d been human, Nathan would have been a “must have coffee before being awake” person. It took him a while to fully function in the evening. Biting her lip, she grabbed a blood bag. “I ... had a bad dream.” His eyes widened, then narrowed as he dipped his head, scrutinizing her. “Are you red? Your skin? And it’s been a long time since you had a nightmare.” “I was out in the greenhouse.” She poked half-heartedly at the bag. “In the daytime? Darling, you better go take a nice, soothing bath. Your skin is going to be itchy for a while. It’s sunburned.” She shrugged, shoulders rolling. Nathan patted her arm, stroking gently down. “Are you sure you’re all right?” “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Where’s Henri?” Nathan snorted. “He’s slower than me in the evenings, you know that. Do you need me to go grocery shopping for you? Your skin does look bad, Crimson.” She cursed silently. “It’s my turn again?” “Yep. Once every month since we’ve been here.” He chuckled, sitting down at the bar. She didn’t like the grocery store. But it was her turn. And there were worse things. “No, I’m fine. I’ll go soak in a tub with some oatmeal bath and go after dark.” What could happen at the grocery store?
***** Crimson ran a hand over her face and swallowed. The hackles on the back of her neck stood up on edge. Someone had been following her since she’d left the house, jazzing up her already irritated nerves. Her predatory senses leapt into overdrive, all her senses heightened. She bared her teeth. Not a good look for King Soopers. She took a hesitant look around. A short, stocky man walked down the aisle where she’d come from next to a tall, lean man. Wonder if they know about Jack Sprat. The silly rhyme rolled through her head. Not now, I’m busy.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
15
She picked up the pace and darted down by the breads, pushing her cart in front of her. It just had to be her turn to get some things for the house. They never needed much. Nathan’s one human weakness was Hostess Cupcakes. So when they ran out, it was a crisis. The man still lagged behind like he was checking out the breads she’d passed. She scooted down another aisle, pushing the cart at NASCAR pace. Slinking around the corner, she tossed Nathan’s cupcakes in the cart. She let go of the cart and tiptoed around it to look back where she’d come from. No odd couple pair. Frowning, she turned back to her cart. And ran into a wall. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. It was solid, without give from her body pressing into it. Her head swiveled up.
Oh, my. A wall of man stood there, looking down at her. He’d stepped in between the cart and her. Amused hazel eyes twinkled, surveying her. “I’m sorry, excuse me.” Her words came out breathy. She lowered her lashes, eyes staring into his face, mesmerized. His smile grew, revealing a brief flash of even white teeth in contrast to the rich color of his skin before it quickly closed. She hadn’t stepped away from his body. And who would want to? “It’s alright.” His deep voice wrapped her in its rich timbre. She met his gaze again. He looked expectantly at her. Oh, yeah, she hadn’t moved away yet. She took a step back, the loss of warmth and contact somehow leaving her bereft, not something she understood. She’d known him for only two seconds. “I should have paid more attention to where I was going.” His eyes slid down to half-mast under long thick eyelashes. “No problem.” Her body tingled all over, as if nerve endings popped under her skin. He was the most striking man she’d ever seen. And considering the vampires she lived with, that said something. His skin looked like a blend between mocha and olive, covered by a brown tunic and sinfully tight leather pants. His face was long and thoughtful, with soulful eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips. She’d caught a glimpse of a long dark braid down his back. Not to mention that even from her height -- she was tall for a woman -- she had to look way up at him. He had to be six foot six or taller. And having been against that body, all too briefly, it was well worked out with no softness to it. “I ... I’m sorry again. I better finish my shopping.” That someone might be following her, having been edged out by the gorgeous man in front of her, came to the forefront of her mind. She scanned, but didn’t see the stocky man anywhere close by. “It’s not a problem. Are you OK?” “I’m fine.” A moment passed. She maneuvered around him, taking the cart in both hands. Wishing it were something hard as metal, but not quite so cold. Something warm and velvety. Her eyes drifted down to his midsection. She bit her lip, eyes coming back up. His eyes met hers before focusing on her mouth.
16
Mechele Armstrong
“Come here often?” She clutched the cart tighter. Could he be trying to pick her up? “Every three weeks. That’s when it’s my turn to get groceries.” “How lucky for me to be here on your week.” His smile started slow, but spread. The carnality of it made her knees knock. “I guess so.” She’d been a flirt once upon a time, but was sure sucking at it now. What was wrong with her? This beautiful man was making time with her. Even rusty skills had to do better than this. “I’m Rojo. Rojo Rose.” Her gasp echoed off the chilled, austere tile. “You don’t like that name?” He frowned, lips thinning. “No! No. I mean ... your name. Rojo is red in Spanish? So your name is ‘red rose’?” He nodded. “Tacky, but it stuck. So you speak Spanish?” “I love it. Your name.” His lips curved back up into a smile. Those lips would feel so good running down her body. She shifted her weight, the ache between her thighs intensifying. Slickness had invaded there. She was aroused. That hadn’t happened in such a long time. Since before Evangeline. “Someone’s been teaching me.” A vampire named Nick had started teaching her Spanish, and Nathan worked on it now that Nick had left them for a while. “What’s yours?” “Oh.” Yeah, giving him her name would be good. “Crimson.” His laugh came easy. “We’re both reds.” She let out a soft chuckle, too. “So we are.” “We match.” His voice dipped down into even more bass. The shiver started at her knees and wound its way up. If only. “Maybe we could get together sometime.” A date? She hadn’t been on one in ages. “I’d like that.” Flutters against her mind. She’d been so zoned out on him that she hadn’t acknowledged them before. They pinged, seeking entry. She relaxed for a second and then shifted her mind back at them, finding the source. Her head came up, her eyes staring at the man in front of her. Rojo Rose was a vampire.
***** Rojo scrambled to keep up with Crimson’s retreating form in the parking lot. And he tried to ignore her luscious ass moving in front of him. His hands itched to cup it, to see if it would fit in his hands. “Crimson, wait.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
17
“No.” She slung the grocery bag in the backseat of the car, slammed the door, and turned to face him. “Go away.” He’d seen when his nature came to Crimson’s awareness. It had taken her that long to figure it out? She’d bolted and hadn’t stopped moving away from him since. She was angry, and some of that anger didn’t seem directed at him. She hadn’t known what he was at first, and it both scared her and infuriated her. Neither had been his intention. He sighed. “Crimson, I am a vampire. Like you.” Her body shook. “Funny, how you didn’t mention that at first.” “You didn’t mention you were one, either.” She opened her car door, and he moved to block her from getting in. “I didn’t know you were one.” She tried to slide around him. “Why would I mention it? I thought you were human.” “A simple mind reach would have told you what I was.” “I wasn’t looking. I ... was distracted.” “And what distracted you?” He wedged his body so she couldn’t get in her car. Her arousal had hit him full bore when she’d run into him. It had been all he could do not to take her on the grocery shelves. That would have definitely necessitated a cleanup on aisle nine. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You already know. You.” She waved a hand. “All deepvoiced and buff and ‘we match.’ You could smell me. I know a vampire’s nose. And you probably plucked at my mind long before I realized you were.” “I couldn’t get in.” Her mind wasn’t strong. He could have gotten in had he wanted to. She would have known, of course, and known what he was sooner. So why hadn’t he? He didn’t know, only that it seemed wrong somehow to invade her like that. It had been stupid of him. She’d be Lang’s soon, and Lang would invade her every way he could. “Good thing for me. Is this your territory? Is that it? I invaded it or some shit. Now you want to kill me. Don’t bother. I’ll take off.” He snorted. “I don’t want to kill you. Kiss you, maybe.” Her eyes widened at his admission. Not what she’d been expecting. Good. He’d keep her off balance. Now if he could find his own balance. And then she did something he never would have expected from her. With a growl, Crimson smacked his shoulder open-handed. Then she pulled his head down for a kiss. As her lips met his, Rojo’s head swam. Her mouth opened under his, warm, wet, inviting. He made a noise, deep and low in his throat, bringing her closer to him. He turned them so she was against the car, pinioning her with his body. His tongue explored, tasted. Cinnamon. Maybe some vanilla. And it was good. Her mouth opened more under his, and a sound came out like a whimper. Each time he had control of the kiss, she slanted her mouth so he couldn’t dominate the embrace.
18
Mechele Armstrong
Her hands came up, wrapping around him, stroking his back, then sliding around to his chest. The shove was with her full strength. He stumbled backwards. Her voice came out with breathy, squeaky sounds. “Stay away from me.” She slid into the front seat, slamming her car door. The engine purred as she jerked it into gear and took off. He licked his lips. This was going to be a hell of an assignment.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
19
Chapter Three Crimson stopped at the traffic light. She held the steering wheel so tightly that her hands hurt. It had been a good kiss. A “drop your pants and do me” kind of kiss with all the right parts in it. Her inner voices began a war over the whole situation.
Are you nuts? You kissed a man you don’t know. And he’s a vampire, who’s probably going to kill you over territory. And you’re focusing on what a great kisser he was. He said he wouldn’t kill me over territory. That it wasn’t his. And you believed him? You’re not that naïve. He won’t kill me. Ha! He won’t. It had been a good kiss. She closed her eyes, opening them when the car behind her honked because the light turned green. He’d tasted of chicory, cinnamon, and male. His tongue had dueled with hers, seeking everything she had to give. Like he’d draw her entire being out of her.
You sensed the danger in him. You’re crazy to keep thinking of him this way. Do you have a death wish? His body had been all sinew and muscle against hers. So hard. She licked her lips. Especially his cock, which had rubbed her like a bow to a violin, pulling all the right strings, making her body pitch and play.
20
Mechele Armstrong
She hadn’t felt like this in such a long time, had worried she might never feel desire again. And nothing came close to what she felt right now. She wanted to turn the car around and jump his bones on the hood of her car.
Why don’t you? Because ... No good reasons not to came to mind, despite knowing so little about the man she’d met not even an hour ago.
... who will kill you. She sighed. It had been a great kiss. She pulled into the driveway at the house, her hands whitened and sore when she let go of the steering wheel. Her lips still had that tingly feeling. Her pussy ached, wanting to be filled. Wanting ... sex. God, it hadn’t wanted that in so long. She felt almost alive again. Her whole body hummed in anticipation of a man kissing her, touching her, making her feel like a woman.
You’re dead, stupid. And it will be more permanent when he kills you. She licked her lips. Chicory and cinnamon. He’d tasted so nice. Smelled nice, too. He’d tasted of something familiar, but not something she could place. Her breath swooshed out of her lungs. “Chicory and cinnamon. Oh, my God.” Her dream flower had tasted like chicory and cinnamon. What did that mean? It couldn’t mean anything; it was only a dream. Even if he had been following her before the grocery store, there was no way he could have gotten into her mind to shape the dream without her being aware of it.
It means you’re nuts. Well, we already knew that. Not a big secret. It means he’s dangerous. You knew it in your dream, and despite that, you couldn’t stay away. The fucking flower stabbed you. In the heart! “That was only a dream.” But how coincidental it was that Rojo had tasted like the flower. And he was a Rose. More importantly a “red rose” like in the dream. She had not a clue what it all meant. But she couldn’t wait to see Rojo again, which made her ask the question: How did she know she would?
***** Rojo pushed open the door to the pool from the men’s locker room. The heat hit him in the face. His head went backwards from it. “What is it with this girl and heat?”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
21
His boots clacked on the hard tile of the YMCA floor surrounding the pool. The ceiling was high with skylights covered by darkened sky. He briefly looked up, surveying it. The place echoed -- lousy acoustics. When it was full of kids, you probably couldn’t hear anything over them. Several colorful fish posters had been tacked to corkboards on the wall telling about the various stages of swim classes offered. Chlorine burned his nose. She was so new, how did she stand the smells? He looked at a man with a paunch wearing a Speedo. And the temptations? He strolled over to the end of her lane and waited until she touched the side. “Hello, Crimson.” She cleared out her goggles, leaving them on, and stared up at him, biting her bottom lip. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay away from me.” “But you didn’t mean it.” He smiled down at her, and she moved slightly away. Perhaps he’d let a little too much show. She wore a plain black one-piece with her hair bunched up into a red swim cap and black goggles. Somehow she still managed to look delectable. He wanted to peel those layers off, starting with the ugly goggles that blocked those emerald eyes. Damn, he wished he could see them right now. Where was his resolve? He never slept with other vampires. “How do you get all that hair into that tiny cap?” “I scrunch it up ...” Her head cocked as if remembering she didn’t want to talk to him. She repeated, “What are you doing here, Rojo?” Oh, the way she said his name. His dick hardened, never having gotten that way from a woman speaking before. Her dulcet Southern hoarseness had the most peculiar effect on his libido. He’d pay her for phone sex. “I wanted to see you swim.” “How did you know I swam?” She inched forward again, coming back to the side. Freeing that hair from the tight cap would probably make her back up again, but he wanted to. “I was working out. I saw you swimming and wanted to come speak to you.” She looked at his feet, crossing her arms on the side of the pool. “You exercise in those things?” He wore heavy boots. “I was lifting weights. No one cares what you wear on your feet.” He put his arm up to show her a bicep under his t-shirt. She licked her lips. A reaction he could savor. “What do you want?”
To fuck you. “I wondered if you’d like to go out for a drink or to a coffee shop or something?” “They don’t serve what we eat.” “We can still go sit down and talk.” He repeated in his mind, You don’t sleep with other vamps. You don’t sleep with other vamps. Not that it helped. But it was worth a shot. Her eyelashes fluttered. “You want to go hang out with me?”
22
Mechele Armstrong
“Something like that.” “OK.” She shrugged. “I have four more laps to swim.” “How do you deal with the smells in here?” A buff, bronzed man walked by, shaking his ass. It was a nice ass that he could appreciate. But somehow it made him want to sink his teeth into Crimson’s all the more. He shifted, trying to relieve sudden pressure in his groin. “I’m used to it. I like to swim. I swam on a swim team when I younger.” Her eyes followed the man until he sank into the water two lanes down to start his own round of laps. She shook her head, turning back to face Rojo. So, she didn’t deal too well with the meals walking around uncovered around here. She pushed off the side and then stopped, bringing her feet down. “I’ll go change after I’m done. You don’t have to watch me swim. Oh, and I need to make a phone call before we leave. They won’t allow cell phones in the locker rooms.” “How come? And who do you have to call?” “Some cell phones have cameras. No one coming here wants their naked ass on the next Internet broadcast.” She pushed her arms through the water. “I’m calling ... a friend.” “Boyfriend?” “No. Only a friend.” “Odd, you have to check in with him.” He toed a boot into the concrete. “He worries about me.” She shrugged. “A lot. I have to let him know where I’m going.” “Got you on a tight rein, huh?” He took long loud strides to the outside door. “I’ll wait here.” He watched her swim, never breaking her concentration. She was going to call Henri. He’d seen the doubt run across her face. He’d cultivate that doubt and grow it into something he could use. He’d planted the first seed. Soon there would be others.
***** Crimson exited the water. She could feel Rojo’s eyes on her as she walked to the women’s locker room. So she strutted and then dropped her towel, bending down to get it, being sure to wiggle her ass. She might have forgotten how to flirt, but it was coming back to her. Rojo made her nervous, but he caused a determination in her, along with a lot of other things. She didn’t look back to see how he liked it, and instead pulled open the door. Cool air chilled her skin as she padded to a shower stall, the floor frigid under her bare feet after the warmth of the pool area. A hot shower would feel divine. She hung her towel on the hook, pulling the beige curtain open, and stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain closed again. Then she ripped off her cap, turning the handle
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
23
over to the red dot. The warm water cascaded down around her. Running a hand through her hair and lifting her head, she let it envelop her in its warmth. Reaching up, she slid her bathing suit off one shoulder, then the other, slipping it down her body until it pooled around her ankles. Twirling her foot, she tossed it off, letting it land with a small plop in the corner. She rolled her head around, stretching out the muscles, and stared at the nondescript tan walls of the shower before using their dispenser to squeak out some shampoo. The soft, sweet scent of it tickled her nostrils. She lathered up her hair, liking the squishy feeling under her fingers. Someone came in. For a second, she entertained the thought that it might be Rojo. Her pussy tightened in anticipation. Another shower started.
Damn. She cursed not only because it wasn’t him, but because of how much she wanted it to be him coming to join her. Bad, bad, bad. Did she have it bad! She looked down at the soapy water running down her flat stomach to her thighs. Her fingers moved down her throat, skimming over her skin to her chest. Her thumb grazed her nipple, already perked. She pinched it between thumb and forefinger, letting out a small groan at the sensations. Her hips rocked. The other hand slid palm down across her tummy to the coarse hair below. A boyfriend had once called it her red halo. He hadn’t lasted long. One finger parted the folds of her pussy, delving into the slickness. She threw her head back, banging it softly on the wall, and leaned back against the cool tile for support as her fingers continued to pinch and pleasure. Her pointer finger found her clit and made slow circles around it, then flicked it back and forth. It moved into her sheath, thrusting, her thumb replacing it on her clit.
So good. Rojo’s fingers, so long, so strong. He’d pluck her clit until she covered him in her juices, make her scream his name. Her orgasm gripped her tightly as all her muscles clenched and all her concentration went down the center of her body. Her hips rocked back and forth against her hand. She’d not done that in so long. Climax was always much better with a partner. She shook her head, reaching up to cut off the water. Rojo would wonder what she’d been doing. She wouldn’t mull over the fact that thinking of him was what had pushed her over the edge into climax.
***** Rojo shifted in his seat.
24
Mechele Armstrong
A wall was between Crimson and him. Only a bunch of cinderblocks held together by mortar. On the other side of it, she showered. Naked. He couldn’t get the picture out of his brain. Would her nipples be dark or light? Was she a true redhead? How luscious would those long legs look? He closed his eyes, tuning out the few people around him as he sat on the uncomfortable couch in front of the pool area. His dick throbbed, liking the images his mind projected all too well. He had to get his mind out of his pants, or rather, out of Crimson’s. Baseball. Did Denver have a baseball team? How were they doing? A ball would go far when hit out of the park. To a car with Crimson on the hood, shimmying on it in a little seethrough white getup, hair flying around her head. He groaned, opening his eyes. His mind was firmly entrenched in the sexual gutter with Crimson as the main star. A woman sitting in the chair nearby gave him a look and quickly got up, heading for the front desk.
Great. Crimson hurried over from the direction of the women’s locker room. “Sorry, I took a long shower.” Her hair was still damp. She wore a white Denver Broncos shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. His nostrils twitched. She’d done more than shower. The milky smell of her arousal hung heavy even over a soapy scent. “Nice shower.” He let his words take on a burr so that she’d know what he implied with the suggestiveness. She’d come in that locker room. And God help him, he wanted to have been there helping. Her feet twitched back and forth. “Yeah. It was.” He swallowed, watching her mouth twist up in a grin. He could smell her. She met his gaze evenly without shying away. “You should have joined me ... and my hand could have gone other places.” His air caught in his chest, his heart stopped, and all his blood poured down to his dick. His balls tightened. He’d expected a blush and embarrassment, not admittance and an invitation. “What other places would they have gone?” She turned her head side to side, coyly looking back at him. “I think we’d have found some place. Maybe squeezing your nuts. Until you scream for mercy.” “I don’t scream.” She started at the top of his tunic with one finger, fingernail abrading the skin, then motoring on down the rest of his chest. “With me, you will.”
Have mercy. “Won’t.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
25
I’ll have none. “Will.” Their eyes met, sparks flittering in the irises of hers. And he saw the realization dawn in her eyes the instant it did in him. She’d answered in his mind. “That’s never happened before.” “Only happens to me like that with my maker and my sister.” He changed the subject, not wanting to think about why that had happened. “We’d better head out. Where would you like to go?” She shrugged. “Wherever.” As they strolled by the help desk, Crimson pulled out her cell phone. His arm had gone to her elbow, even that small contact firing up his skin like he was the plug and she was the outlet. He had to get a handle on this, needed to focus on the task at hand. Earn her trust and then deliver her to Lang. “Miss, is everything OK?” A man stood by the desk with a slight frown. Crimson blinked at him, looking up from her phone. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” The man nodded, glaring at Rojo, who shot a smile back. As soon as they’d walked out of earshot, she asked, “What was that all about? No one ever speaks to me here.” Rojo pushed open the front doors. “How often do you leave with a tall black man?” “Oh, you can’t be serious.” She walked through ahead of him; he checked out her fine, jean-covered ass swishing in front of him. Yeah, he’d much rather take a bite out of that than anything else. He couldn’t believe the way she had flirted with him and how much it had turned him on. Didn’t know why they’d spoken in each other’s brains, though. None of her makers had anything in common with his. “Very serious, baby.” She shook her head, unfolding her phone, pulling out the antenna. “That’s stupid. Not in this day and age.” “What rock have you been living under? It’s better than it used to be when I got lynched for even looking at a white woman. But it still happens.” Her eyes widened. She dialed her phone, turning her back on Rojo. “Nathan?” Henri’s lover. Rojo stuck his hands in his pocket. He looked up at the nighttime sky with the moon and stars shining up in the heavens. One light had burned out in the parking lot but the rest seemed to compete for time with the natural lights. “I’m going to stay out. Everything’s fine. No.” She let out a laugh. “It’s not the lifeguard. I’ll be home later. Tell Henri.” Lifeguard? A growl simmered in his chest. He stopped walking. What the hell was he thinking? She wasn’t his. And soon she’d be Lang’s. He had no right to jealousy.
26
Mechele Armstrong
She flipped up the phone, shutting it, sliding it in her pocket. “I’m ready. Let me stash my bag in my car.” She was back in a few seconds. “Where you want to go?” He started walking again, getting in front of her, leading her to his car. “You can call them back and tell them the full itinerary.” He didn’t look back to see her reaction, but heard her deep swallow. She didn’t like being reminded of her issues. This wouldn’t take long at all. “I told you, it doesn’t matter.” He opened her door, letting her get settled before shutting it, then trotted around to his side. He folded himself into the driver’s side. Crimson shook her head, hair dangling around her face. “What?” He looked into the amused emeralds she had for eyes. “I can’t wait to see you get out of there. I bet you look like a pretzel.” He shrugged. Inside the car, they sat almost right against each other. Her scent from the earlier pleasures she’d taken was even heavier in the enclosed space. When his arm brushed hers, her heart rate sped up. The blood frantically rushing through her body echoed in him. Tasting her would be so good. Vampires could feed from each other and often did. Not him. No one ever fed from him. One more reason why he never took vampire lovers.
You’re not going to do it now. “I shouldn’t be doing this. Riding with you.” Her voice quivered. “But here you are.” “I know.” She sighed. “Think we could talk in each other’s minds again?” She put on her seatbelt. It took him a moment to get his mind away from her blood. “I don’t know. That’s a new one for me.” “You can always talk with your maker without effort.” She softly exhaled. “Unless I’m wrong on that.” “I ... could talk with my maker. If she were here.” “It was a her?” “Yeah.” He amended, “And if she were alive I could talk to her in my mind.” “Sorry to hear that. About her being dead dead.” “I’m not.” “Oh.” They lapsed into silence, staring up at the sky. “So are we going to sit here?” She crossed her legs, touching them at her ankles. “Or go somewhere?” “We could fuck.” He waggled brows at her, teasing.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
27
“OK.” He swallowed, all the saliva gone out of his mouth along with all the air in his lungs. “You want to ...” He hadn’t meant it, well, he had, but never expected her to acquiesce. They’d met only recently, and she was so skittish. “Fuck.” She nodded, her eyes blazing hotter than any of the stars in the sky even in the darkened light. “Sure.” “Uhhh.” He breathed in through his nose. The scent of her arousal increased, taking over the air in the car. All he could breathe was her. He grabbed behind her head with his hand, pulling her in to drop his mouth on hers. His tongue traced the seam, knocking for entry. Her lips instantly opened under his questing ones, taking him, tasting him. Her tongue sought his out, teasing it, touching it, making circles around it. Nothing compared to her kiss. Except maybe her body under his. God, he wanted to find out what that felt like. He unclipped her seatbelt, pulling her closer against his body. The little whimpery noises coming out of her made him want to take her. In the car, on the ground, hell, he’d do it in the trunk if they’d fit. Her mouth tasted so full of life, was so hot under his. A current flared between them, flashing so he swore he saw sparks. Her hands encircled him, one stroking his back. The other had drifted down to cup a butt cheek. He wasn’t the only one with a thing for a great ass. He growled, unable to get close enough to her. One hand tangled in the silken mass of her hair. The other slipped around to cup a full breast. She arched into his hand with a keening cry. The change came so abruptly. She stiffened in his arms. Her body went rigid. She brought her hands up to shove at his chest. “What?” he murmured against her lips. She bit his lip. Not hard enough to draw blood, but not exactly a love nip either. “Hey!” He pulled back away from her. She flailed at his chest. “You asshole!” He grasped at her hands, securing one, then the other. “What? What did I do?” Dammit, another minute, and he might have taken her. Shit. He hadn’t cared she was Lang’s prize or that he didn’t sleep with other vampires. “You were inside my greenhouse. Before we ever met.” Her breathing came heavy in her throat. “What are you after?”
28
Mechele Armstrong
Chapter Four Crimson glared at him. She wanted to smack him upside his braided head. He’d invaded her sanctuary. The one place she felt safe from everything and everyone. “What were you doing in there?” “I ... uh ...” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down nervously. She wanted him more than nervous. Fury filled her, taking the space where passion had been. She pulled on the door handle, and he reached quickly across to grab her wrist. “Let go of me.” “Wait. Crimson, come on. Let me explain.” She gazed at him through slitted eyes. “Talk fast.” She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning away from his bulk towards the door, like she was ready to bolt. Which she was. “I’ve been watching you.” He sighed. “For a little while, now. I’d seen you before the grocery store.” “Why have you been watching me?” She leaned back in her seat. It wasn’t exactly an exciting life she led. For a vampire, she was downright boring. Watching late night movies with Nathan had taught her that. “You interest me. Few people do.” “So why break into my greenhouse? Why go in there?” “I wanted to learn what makes you tick.” Her breathing hitched. No one else had ever wanted to know the real her. And he had insight, because the greenhouse had more of her than anywhere else. His eyes bored into her like he had x-ray vision. Could vampires have that as a power? She’d have to ask Henri. “So you’ve been spying on me. You broke into my greenhouse. All because you find me fascinating?” She edged her voice with skepticism. Pushed down all the
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
29
mushy feelings his interest in her triggered. She had to keep up her guard around him, had to keep up her anger. Or she’d be lost. “That’s about it.” He drawled slightly. He’d spent time in the South at some point. It stilted his voice at times. “And now, I’m supposed to fall into your arms all lovey-dovey because you’re so romantic?” She smirked at him. What an asshole, if he believed that would happen. This wasn’t a Harlequin novel. Especially as they both had fangs and drank blood. Keep the anger going. It was all she had in defense. He smiled, showing the aforementioned fangs. “Pretty much. Or smack me for being a stalker.” The smile escaped before she could catch it, surprising her. It wiped away the anger, and try as she might, she couldn’t get it back. Mayday, mayday, you’ll sink fast now. “I do find you interesting, Crimson.” He put his arm along her back and stroked her neck under her hair. The simple touch sent shivers along her spine. “You’d be the first. Most people do not see me that way.” Copper, yes, but not her. She didn’t believe him. There had to be an agenda. All people had them. She’d have to learn what his was. “Then they’re fools.” His voice quietly rumbled in his chest. Great line. Which she wanted to believe. “Are we going to the coffee shop?” “Sure are. Unless you’d rather go back to your car.” He turned to the steering wheel as if it didn’t matter to him if she did or didn’t. But she saw his fingers tighten on it. Saw the jaw clench waiting for her to answer. He wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be. He had given her an out. And part of her wanted to run, to duck back to her car, drive off, and never look back. But part of her wanted to stay with him as long as he’d have her. “Nah. I’m not ready to head home yet.” He started the car, relief shadowing his face, and put it in gear. “Good. Me either.”
***** Lang waited in the shadows of the alley outside the hotel. He scented her, her heels clacking on the sidewalk. A rat scurried behind him, going for a pile of trash on the other side. A pool of oil from where a car had been parked gleamed in the moonlight. As she neared him, he stepped out in the dim light. She stopped short, her blond hair bobbing behind her. “Hello, Lang.” She purred the words. Her micro mini-skirt showed off her long legs to perfection. It almost showed off most of her ass. She never wore anything under them. Lang hardened, thinking about how wet
30
Mechele Armstrong
he’d find her under there. The low-cut top fit snugly on her breasts, accentuating the heavy mounds. Her belly button ring peeked out from the stretch of skin she showed between shirt and skirt. High-heel boots, best described as “come fuck me,” graced small feet. “Hello, Lola. It’s been a long time.” He leaned in to give her a small kiss. She moved quickly up to catch his mouth with hers. Her tongue sought his for a light romp around the teeth. “Too long.” She moved closer to him, patting his chest. “Way too long.” Lola was a sex kitten of the highest degree. God, did he love that about her. Lang snorted in a breath through his nose. It made a whistling sound. “We’ll have to make up for lost time. But first ...” She shook her head, lips twitching up into a mock pout. “How did I know you weren’t coming to see me? That you had work for me. All work and no play makes Lang a horny man, you know.” She reached down to grope him through his leather pants. “Oh, yeah, quite horny.” He disengaged her hand, running a finger along her chin. “You know I always do business before pleasure. Come with me to my hotel room, and I’ll tell you all about it.” Her shrewd blue eyes narrowed. “It must be quite a job if you’re turning down a sexual romp. And I think you can tell me right here.” She sashayed into the alley as Lang followed behind her. Damn, the little vixen didn’t trust him enough to go off with him. He smiled. He’d raised her right. “I need a woman brought to me. She’s a vampire.” Lola’s nose wrinkled. “Is she ugly? I don’t do ugly women.” “No, she’s a beauty.” “So how come you don’t take her?” Lola pulled out a sucker, unwrapping it slowly, her fingers lingering on the paper. “She’s protected by a vampire who knows me. If I get too near her, he’ll sense me and be after me. I have to keep my distance.” She puckered her lips around the red top of the sucker, then drew it slowly into her mouth. Lang shifted, his cock growing harder and heavier. She toyed with him, much like the mouse before the cat. She knew he’d pounce, but not when. And that thrilled him. “You want me to bring this girl to you? It sounds easy enough.” “You can’t arouse Henri Baptiste’s, her mentor’s, suspicions. I need time with her first before anyone knows she’s been kidnapped. I need her people to think she ran away. I have sent in a man to get her, and my own men are canvassing for her. But I thought this might need a woman’s touch as well.” She giggled, her tongue swirling around the entire lollipop. “Most things usually do. So what’s the 411 on her?” “Get her and bring her to me.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
31
She tsked. “Not until you tell me why you want her. I don’t work that way.” Lang rubbed his chin as though considering it. He’d anticipated Lola would ask. She didn’t do anything without finding out what was in it for her. “I want revenge on Henri Baptiste.” She blinked her eyes, staring at him, and then started to laugh. “Oh, that’s rich.” She giggled more, putting a hand on his chest while the other clasped the sucker. Then her lips thinned, her face hardened. “Sell that sack of shit to someone else. You’ve had years to get your revenge. This girl can’t be more important to Henri than any other student. Try again.” “I’ve bided my time --” She interrupted, “You never take your time with anything. How long after you met me did you turn me? I don’t buy it.” Lola knew him better than any other person on this earth, vampire or human. And at times, that took him by surprise. Like now. His time with her was the closest thing to being in love he’d ever had. “She’s a Conduit.” “Oh, someone sold you a fucking fairytale lie. They don’t exist. Poor Lang, chasing a myth.” She slid the sucker in deeply, letting him see her deep throat it. He growled, lust and stung pride warring to get out. “It’s not a lie. They do exist. Bastian De Luca found one. He’s mated her.” “Shiny shit and shinola. So he found himself one. The search is going to be on for more of them now. Who’s this chick you want?” Lang leaned into her, lowering his head to whisper it as though someone might overhear. “The sister of the first Conduit.” Lola clapped her hands together. “Good things do come in pairs.” “Bring her to me.” He nipped her neck, scraping his fang down it. “I’ll share with you. We can keep this girl, taking her blood, and become the most powerful vamps in the universe.” A lie. He’d never share his power source. Lola would count on her sex appeal to keep her in with him. She didn’t think he’d ever kill her. But no piece of pussy had ever been worth that much. Unlike Rose, Lola wouldn’t double-cross him, trying to take the Conduit as her own. She didn’t have the balls to. Stronger vamps had always kept her, and she liked it that way. She might be a coquettish dealmaker, but that was all, and she knew it. Unlike Rojo, who was a complete wildcard. “Who else did you send in after her?’ “Rojo Rose.” Lola whistled appreciatively at the name. “You are serious to send him after her. You’re going to share with him? If he brings her in first?”
32
Mechele Armstrong
“Hell, no. I didn’t tell him what she is. She’s got a rose obsession going on. I thought he might get under her skin enough to take her.” “Hmmm. I don’t know if I should take this job. I mean, finding a Conduit would be sweet. But ...” He growled at her stalling. “Lola, you better take the damn job.” Cocking her head to the side, her voice came out syrupy sweet. “Why should I? You haven’t made it worth my while.” She crunched the sucker in a bite, discarding the stick to the gritty cement below. “I’m going to share with you, bitch. What more do you want?” Her smile lengthened and she caught her lip between her teeth. “Money. Diamonds make the world go round, and they cost.” It always came down to money with females. “Ten.” Her cackle rung in the alley. “Chump change. How much would you pay Rose if he got her to you?” “I’m not sharing her with him, dammit. Thirty.” “That’s getting there.” She sidled a few steps closer and put her hand on his chest. “Come up a little more.” Her other hand wandered down to clutch at his cock. “Oh, you’re already up here. Try it with the money.” “I’m not going higher than thirty.” He grabbed the hand from his chest, bending it backwards until it was at the breaking point. She didn’t flinch. Her other hand never stopped stroking his cock through his pants. “I made you, Lola. I can take you out if I need to. I’ll make another vampiress by daybreak. Take my offer. We’ll contact the usual way.” Her lips shifted down into a frown. “You drive a hard bargain. I accept. Now drive something hard into me.” All the pieces were falling into place in his chess game. Rojo would distract her; Henri would worry about him. Meanwhile, Lola would go under the radar, befriend the girl, and deliver her. She freed him from his pants right as he slammed her into the wall. No underwear definitely made for easier access.
***** Crimson pulled into the driveway. Looking up at the house, she sighed. Their home looked like any other one in suburbia with families in them, only vampires lived in this one. Yet another thing that amused Nathan. He had liked the red accent trims because he said it matched Crimson. When Henri had inquired who the gray matched, Nathan had laughed and pointed at Henri because he was “older than dirt.” Henri had rolled his eyes. Nathan had an odd sense of humor.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
33
Rojo had treated her to coffee, which she hadn’t drunk. They’d talked for a half-hour, about nothing and everything. He’d brought her back to her car. And left her standing there, watching him drive away. He hadn’t tried to kiss her again. Dammit. Why was she cursing about that? With every fiber of her being, she sensed Rojo was one deadly vamp. Yet those same cells fired to attention with every move he made. She hadn’t wanted to leave him. He melted her like a toaster did butter on bread, then left her congealing in a little pile. She rubbed her hand across her forehead, got out, slammed the door, and trudged to the house. Everyone was in the kitchen sitting at the small, glass-topped kitchen table. It had been fine for the three of them to do quick meals, and it was quite cozy. A more formal huge mahogany table resided in the dining room. She took a deep breath and stepped in. “Red!” Nathan winked at her. “How was your trip out?” Considering the only places she went were the grocery store and the Y, he had a right to be thrilled for her. Was she thrilled for herself? She couldn’t be sure. “Nothing special.” As usual, Copper sat so close to her mate that she was almost on Bastian’s lap. He had his arm tucked around her. “Where did you go?” Crimson shrugged. “I went out for a while. Sat at a coffee shop and watched people.” That’s what she’d done with Rojo, so it wasn’t exactly a lie, only a bend of the truth. Nathan grinned, delivering a blood bag to the blue bowl at her chair. The kitchen had been done in blue and white, and they’d wound up getting matching dishes. Sometimes so much symmetry annoyed the hell out of Crimson. She wanted contrasts. She should go get some yellow dishes. For her. Maybe paint stripes down the kitchen wall. Would it be any more shocking than her on a date? Probably not. Not that this had been a date. “So was anyone with you?” She hesitated, torn between admitting the truth and denying it. But why lie? She was an adult. She had nothing to explain. But somehow, she wanted Rojo to be just for her, the way her greenhouse was. He felt like a secret she needed to keep for a while. “I ... Hand me the scissors for the bag,” she changed the subject. “Were you all alone?” Henri said the words as if testing them out. He passed her a sharpened pair of scissors. “I ...” She took a deep breath, taking the scissors in hand. Copper frowned at her. “Are you sure you should be going out by yourself yet? Henri, is she ready for that?”
34
Mechele Armstrong
Crimson took a deep breath. “I’m sitting right here. And I can be out alone. Ask me if I’m ready. Not Henri.” Bastian nudged his mate. “She’s a big girl, Cop.” He smiled reassuringly at Crimson. But he’d take Copper’s side on anything that happened. Copper frowned. “Last time, in Paris ...” Crimson punched open her blood bag with a little more force than was necessary. “I’m fine, Copper. Leave what happened in Paris alone. It was handled.” Her eyes met Henri’s. He nodded to her. His eyes radiated suspicion, though. His nose waffled in inhalation. He could smell Rojo on her. In another life, Crimson was sure he’d been a tracking dog. “And I wasn’t alone. I ... met a friend.” Copper’s head came up so fast, she almost knocked off Bastian’s nuzzling chin. “What? What friend? I didn’t know you had any friends here.” “Just met him.” “Crimson. That can’t be wise.” Worry entered her sister’s gaze. Something she wasn’t prepared to deal with right now. After Paris, her twin had gone into overdrive on worry. “Let her have some fun.” Nathan high-fived her. “About time you met someone in this chilly place.” He walked to the fridge, pulling out milk and some chocolate syrup. Another weakness of Nathan’s that he only indulged every so often. He liked chocolate milk. He grasped the syrup bottle too hard, jostling it with the milk, and a little chocolate bubbled at the top from his squeezing, dripping on the counter as he set it down. He chuckled. “Sorry, I have premature ejaculation problems here.” He wiped down the counter. Henri shook his head. “I never have that problem ... elsewhere.” Nathan winked as he sat down back down. “Human or vampire?” Henri placed a hand underneath the table, clasping Nathan’s leg. Crimson shifted her head away from the intimacy. The nook couldn’t support a larger table, so people had to sit so close together that it was easy to see into each other’s laps. And once Bastian and Copper left, they’d be comfortable again. “Henri, shouldn’t she --” Copper had the schoolteacher voice going. “Sis.” She swallowed, interrupting Copper before she got going on her spiel. “Talk to me. Not Henri.” Copper had gotten so used to talking around her when she’d first been made into a vampire and had so many issues. She was attempting to be patient with Copper having to relearn talking to her. It seemed to happen mostly when Copper was the most worried. But it was hard sometimes not to overreact to people talking about you like you weren’t even in the room. “You ... need to be careful, Crimson. I don’t want ... things that happened to happen again.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
35
She finished draining the blood bag, stifling her irritation. So many things to choose from for Copper to be talking about. Her mistakes had been many. “They won’t.” She pushed back from the table. “I’m going out to the greenhouse for a while.” Retreat seemed like the most logical course of battle. The roses wouldn’t question her about someone she wasn’t sure she should be spending time with anyway.
***** Crimson rolled over in bed, sweat beading over her body.
The rose spoke with Rojo’s voice. “Come to me. Come for me.” The stems grasped her hips, pulling her ever closer. One slid down over her stomach, through her pubic hair, into her slickness. She’d already gotten so wet in anticipation of the touch. She writhed, as he finally touched her, knees buckling. The stems held fast to her, keeping her from sinking to the floor. One feathered her clit, vibrating back and forth across it lightly. “Ohhhhhhhh,” she cried out, on the verge of orgasm. She’d never had anything feel so good as this touch. Her hips pistoned out. The flower grinned, stamens winking. “That’s it, baby. Come for me.” In the throes of ecstasy, she saw the flash of thorn only a second before it embedded itself in her breast. She screamed. Thrashing on the bed, Crimson came awake to the sound of someone screaming. Her. Panting, she looked around her room. Nothing looked out of place. One bed, covered with big, red-rose-patterned sheets. The matching bedspread lay on the floor where she’d probably tossed it off in her sleep. A picture of a yellow rose picture hung on the rosepainted wall, reflecting the dim light from the window covered by blinds and curtains patterned with tiny pink roses. No huge flowers running around her room, either. She pulled out her blue rose nightgown, looking down at her breasts. Nothing out of place there. Two breasts and two nipples, no gaping wound from a giant thorn. This wasn’t funny anymore. Dreaming about flowers that gave foreplay, then tried to kill you had to be a sign. Copper barged into the room. “What the hell happened?” She tried to stop her trembling. “It’s OK, Cop. I had a nightmare.” “You screamed in my head. It woke me up. I thought you were dying. Or something bad had happened.” Copper ran a shaking, manicured hand through her tousled hair. “I’m sorry. I had a bad dream.”
36
Mechele Armstrong
“Crimson, you scared me.” Copper planted herself on the bed, taking Crimson’s hand in her own. “What was it about?” She laughed, the sound brittle. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve been having some strange dreams lately.” “You should tell Henri. Maybe he can help you stop having them.” “Maybe. I’m sorry I woke you.” She squeezed Copper’s hand. For a minute, it was like old times, equal footing as sisters. Warmth spread through Crimson. It was nice not having Cop treating her like an infant or trying to protect her all the time. “I know. It’s OK.” “Where’s Bastian?” “I’m here.” Bastian leaned against Crimson’s doorframe. “What happened? You took off from the bedroom like there was a fire.” “I ...” Copper hesitated. “I thought something was wrong with Crimson. But she’s fine.” Bastian walked into the room, making it seem smaller than it was. He’d always had that effect. “Are you OK?” he asked her. “I’m fine. You two can go back to sleep. I’m fine now.” Copper stood up, Bastian wrapping his arms around her middle. “Are you sure, sis?” She leaned back into her mate. “I could stay.” The worry lines cut across her face like tracks. “Make sure you’re safe.” That was Copper’s goal in life. Unfortunately, she was snuffing the life out of Crimson doing it. Crimson swallowed. She envied her sister. For having someone to always be there for her. Something she had begun to believe wasn’t in the cards for her. Rojo could be. She looked down at the floor, away from the lovebirds. That would never happen. He was too much of everything for her. “I’m sure.”
***** Rojo rolled over, taking the sheet with him. This bed was too fucking small and hard. Sleeping in it was a bitch. The money from Lang would make finding places to stay so much easier. Lots of places opened up when you had a million dollars. Crimson’s doe eyes flashed before him, along with her pixie face looking sultry and all her curves covered by clothes he wanted to rip off. She reacted to him like a deer and a hellcat all rolled into one. He hardened, his dick tightening painfully. It reminded him of the simple fact: he wanted Crimson Daly. Wanted to send her to the brink of screaming orgasm and back over and over again.
You should have had her, dumbass.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
37
They’d been alone. He could have pressed, pressured his way into her pants. She’d been expecting more when they’d gotten back to her car after he’d pulled off a save with her recognizing his scent. And he could have taken her then and there. Only he’d looked into her eyes and couldn’t do it. Despite his dick screaming, “Why the fuck not?” He’d walked away. Why? Damned if he knew. He should take her body, set her up, and deliver her to Lang as soon as possible. That was what he was getting paid to do. He could enjoy himself with her pussy, take the payoff, and run. He should arrange to deliver her and take off as fast as his legs could carry him. He shouldn’t be thinking about more time with her and getting to know her. Only he was. Why did Lang want her, anyway? He turned over, pressing his erection into the mattress. Before meeting her, he hadn’t cared why Lang wanted her. Now, he wanted to know. Nothing stood out about her that made her a target. Unless Lang was trying to get revenge on Henri. But that didn’t make much sense with the amount that Lang would be forking over to get the girl. And the time that had passed since Henri and Lang had had their run-in. Something bigger had to be in Lang’s mind. He couldn’t call up Lang and ask the question, because then the man would know he’d made contact with Crimson. And he would expect the goods delivered shortly. So? He was going to deliver her to Lang soon. Wasn’t he? What did it matter if Lang knew he’d met the luscious lady? He ground himself into the mattress. Her body would suck him inside her tight channel and be so warm. So welcoming. So wet. Unlike this hard mattress that felt like it had a few rocks in it. Rojo had nothing but restless sleep. He got up, showered, and headed for Crimson’s during the daylight, dumbass that he was. Maybe she’d leave the house early tonight for swimming. It was where she went when night fell. He could make more inroads with her then. Damn, why didn’t that sit well? He tried to get his head on straight about what he’d do about her, tried to find his focus on the job. But visions of her eyes and mouth kept getting in the way. He parked with a sigh, squinting in the fading sunshine. Then he saw them. They were between him and Crimson’s house, sitting in their truck, watching. Ward and Charlie were staking out Crimson. He grasped his steering wheel and squeezed. Rage rose up in him. Lang had sent in his own men, too, so that if they nabbed Crimson before he did, Lang wouldn’t have to pay him. It was a form of double-cross, because Lang would hope he’d spent some of the advance.
38
Mechele Armstrong
When Lang asked for it back, Rojo wouldn’t have it. Lang could then name his price. The dirty, no-account bastard. He started his car, revving the engine. Pulled out, heading for Lang’s.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
39
Chapter Five Crimson reached the end of the lane. She took a deep breath and did the breaststroke back across the Olympic-sized swimming pool. With a gasp for air, she reached the other side, grabbing the cool edge with her fingers. She’d lost count of laps, but thought she’d done at least thirty. She raced the ticking clock of closing time at the Y. She liked to get in all her laps each day. After Bastian and Copper had left her, she’d found some uneasy sleep. She’d gotten up earlier than usual to get ready for the YMCA, to go swimming and to try and find some balance. She’d left at her usual time after playing with Nathan a few minutes. He always could make her smile. Shaking her head to get the water out of her ears, she pulled herself up on the side and looked around the deserted swimming complex. She and the lifeguard were alone tonight. Few people swam this close to closing time most nights. It was better for her that way. Despite her attempts to control the beast that lived inside her, she still had problems viewing semi-naked humans as anything but meat. Swim fashions didn’t cover much at all. Bared flesh made her think about blood, and those thoughts led to things that would get her in trouble with Henri. She sighed. One day, she’d get a grip on her blood lust. She was doing better. At least she hadn’t chewed on anyone. Lately. She’d like to chew on Rojo, but that was a whole different matter entirely. Her body warmed thinking about him. Would he show back up tonight? More importantly, did she want him to? She looked out over the settling water. She liked the tranquility of the pool when so few were there. Sometimes it was like looking into glass, the water was so still. She’d almost not want to dive into it, afraid of breaking the water’s harmony.
40
Mechele Armstrong
A door slammed in the men’s locker room. Crimson swung around, half expecting Rojo to come sauntering in. Two guys, not wearing swim trunks, but fully dressed in jeans and t-shirts, looked around the pool. One pointed at her.
Oh, shit. What did I do now? She pulled off her goggles, watching them close the distance, their feet clunking on the ceramic tile. Her heart beat a little faster, and she clasped her hands in her lap. She hadn’t done anything to anyone. Lately. There had been the woman in Paris. But that had been months ago and a whole continent away. “Are you Crimson Daly?” A man with a nose that had been busted a few times looked down at her. He was short and stocky, with dirty-blond hair, where the other one looked long and lean, with golden-blond hair. How tempted she was to ask about Jack Sprat. The day at the grocery store before she’d met Rojo, she’d had the same exact thought about the nursery rhyme. Someone was tailing her. These two clowns looked familiar, like the men she’d spotted that day. So they had been following her. But why? She lifted her head, stretching out her neck muscles, not getting up. “Who wants to know?” Both of the men were vampires. The pecks at her brain had her closing off sections of it so they couldn’t get inside. Neither of them was strong. Probably both newly made. Like her. Stalemate. She couldn’t go in theirs. They couldn’t go in hers. The other man’s wicked smile caused a shiver along her body -- and not from the chilled water still encasing her feet. The complex said “heated pool,” but unless you were swimming laps, it might as well not have been. It sometimes made her cold. He grabbed her red swim cap, pulling it off her head. “It is her. Cap matches the hair. How funny is that?” She could have stopped him from taking it off, but didn’t bother. Instead, she looked around the pool at the exit closest to her. She didn’t think she could run that fast in bare feet on the moist surface. Last thing she needed was to fall and break her tailbone. It would heal. But Copper would never let her hear the end of it. Neither would Nathan. Holding out her hand for her cap, she looked to see the lifeguard watching them closely. She had a human to worry about, too. No escaping, what were her other options? “Give me that back.” His mouth drew up in a sneer, and Broken Nose grabbed her arm. “You’re coming with us.” She swung with the arm he grabbed and took him off balance, pushing him into the pool and going with him. Inside the pool, she had the advantage. Broken Nose couldn’t swim. Instead, he flailed around like he was drowning. Also, she could stand where they were. He couldn’t and
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
41
panicked. She slipped an arm around his throat, spreading her feet wide apart on the bottom for leverage. She squeezed, holding him in front of her. Then cocked her head up at the other man, who’d drawn a gun. The lifeguard had scrambled out of his chair and now approached them. “What’s going on here?” The gun’s nose pointed at the lanky teenager, who, with wild eyes, backed up a step. “Whoa, dude, I don’t want any trouble.” “We’re horsing around.” Crimson smiled at him. If only vampires had mind control like in the movies. It sucked, the abilities they didn’t have. Go away, boy. “Ernie’s gun is a lighter. He’s joking. Right, Ernie? Right, Bert?” She squeezed Broken Nose’s Adam’s apple. “They came to play a joke on me, and surprise, I got Bert in the pool. Joke’s on them.” “Bert” nodded, squirming and making a noise for air, which she let him have. He settled, not trying to break her hold. The other man’s face puckered, but he nodded, too. The lifeguard looked suspicious. “Well, no lighters in the pool area. It’s a rule. And you’re supposed to be wearing proper swimming attire.” “He’ll put it away.” Crimson nodded, giving “Ernie” an “agree or else” look. “And it’s my fault about Bert being in the pool. They thought they were going to scare me. Instead, I pulled him in.” “Ernie” stuck it back in the holster, and the lifeguard left them with one last warning about it being fifteen minutes before everyone had to get out of the pool. And “Bert” had to get out now. They didn’t want to cause a scene, or he wouldn’t have put the gun away. Information she could work with. “Look. I don’t want any trouble.” Boy, she didn’t. She’d had enough of it to last a lifetime in her short time on earth already. “Whatever you’re here for, you have the wrong girl. Go on, and leave me alone.” “Oh, no, we have the right one,” “Bert” managed to squeak out despite the pressure on his throat from her arm. “What for? Why do you want me?” She couldn’t fathom what they’d want her for. She was a nobody. Didn’t have special powers like Copper or Sarah, nor was she a well-known vampire like Henri. “Ernie” snorted. “Like we’d tell you. Come along with us, nice and quiet-like. Then no one gets hurt.” His eyes shifted to the lifeguard. “Like him.” Then his gaze dodged back to her with a glare. “Or you.” She cocked her head to the side. “I have your friend here in a semi-headlock. The water’s over his head. He can’t swim. I can touch bottom and can swim. I don’t think I’m going anywhere with you two assholes.”
42
Mechele Armstrong
“I’ve got the gun.” He sounded so smug. She shrugged. “Use it. You’ll hit your friend. It will bloody the water and draw lots of attention to us. I doubt whoever you work for would be happy.” He swallowed, but said nothing. It confirmed her suspicions. They didn’t want to broadcast what they were doing. “He needs to get out of the water.” Their heads all swiveled to look at the lifeguard, who leaned back in his chair, motioning with his hands. “He will. They’re still playing with me.” Thank God they had the younger lifeguard tonight. He backed down quickly. One of the others was the enforcer, took nothing off of anyone, and would have kicked them all out. She refocused back on the men. “I want to know who you work for. And why me?” Why would anyone want her? She’d been nothing but trouble for a long while now. Maybe whoever it was wanted another flunky? Not her idea of a good gig. Neither said anything. “Oh, well.” She took a deep breath and took “Bert” underwater. He flailed and tried to get free. But one thing she could do was hang on like a pit-bull. He couldn’t break her hold, especially in his panic at being underwater. She could stay underwater for extended periods of time. She brought him up. “Ready to talk?” “Nnnnggh.” She looked over at the lifeguard, who had a puzzled look on his face. “He bet me he could hold his breath longer than I could. I say he can’t.” “Ernie” didn’t contradict them, still playing along. She ducked them under again, holding him down for even longer. They shot back up. “Ready to talk yet?” “Stop this.” “Ernie” paced, hissing his words. Lackeys. Whoever was after her had sent two dumb minions. She took “Bert” underwater again. For even longer. He sputtered and wheezed at the surface. “Who sent you?” “Lang.” “Ernie” cursed. “Dammit, Charlie, Lang will kill us now.” The name meant nothing to her. She didn’t know any Lang. And “Bert” was now Charlie. Crimson leaned in close to breathe in his ear, while nipping it with her fangs. He shuddered. “Wise choice, Charlie. I would have killed you had you not given me what I wanted.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
43
A quick check of the lifeguard revealed he’d started putting stuff away for the night. He saw Crimson nightly, and she could swim better than most, so he often got started early when they were alone. And she’d once pulled a kid out of the water who’d fallen in. “Ward, he told us she’d be easy prey, all alone.” He glared upwards at his friend. “It would be like taking a child. He lied to us.” Charlie spit out water. “Ernie” was now Ward. She liked Ernie and Bert better. She tightened her grip. “I want the gun.” “No.” Ward shook his head to emphasize it. “Very well.” She took Charlie under. Brought him up. “I’m so famished. I could use a bite to eat.” She grinned at the other man. “He’s got a lot of blood, all nice and flowing. Would make a nice, healthy snack.” She ran her fangs across the side of his neck. His trembling increased. “And we both know what my draining him would do to him.” Ward paled, licking his lips. So he knew how to kill other vampires. Not all did. More interesting tidbits of information about her shadows. He took the gun out of his pocket and tossed it to her. Loudly so the lifeguard could definitely hear, she said, “You guys are too playful. I need to stop horsing around and get dressed. Thanks for the lighter.” She took Charlie out of the water and shoved him to the side toward his friend. She spoke much more quietly this time. “I want you to go tell your boss I’m not that easy to take. And to back the fuck off.”
***** Rojo stormed the gates of Lang’s huge home, knocking out two of Lang’s guards in the process and scaring the hell out of one badass dog. Lang arched a brow as Rojo marched into his bedroom. He languished, clothed in a black silk robe, a dead human on the floor. “Rose. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” He motioned to indicate the body. “I’d have cleaned up if I’d known you were coming. Do you have the girl?” He advanced toward the bed, his boots clunking even on the carpet. “Why did you send Ward and Charlie after Crimson?” Lang leaned back, letting the robe gape open to reveal tawny skin. “This is why you arrived like hell on wheels here?” “Yes.” He hissed the word through clenched teeth. “How interesting you feel the need to come confront me on this. I never said I wouldn’t send them.” “You never said you would, either.”
44
Mechele Armstrong
Lang shrugged, shoulders going wide. “I didn’t think I needed to tell you anything about my business that didn’t involve you. Sending in my men had nothing to do with you. The more people after the girl, the better the chances of retrieving her.” “This had nothing to do with fucking me out of my money?” He rocked back on his heels. Like hell he’d believe the smarmy bastard. Lang had intended to cheat him. And it pissed him off. Lang’s smile came lazily like they were merely shooting the breeze. “I’m always finding ways to save money. I don’t pay them in anything but blood. But maybe I’m interested in fucking you.” Rojo’s breath caught in his chest. “I don’t screw vampires.” “I know. And it is a pity.” Lang ran his eyes up and down Rojo’s body. “Why is that? I’ve always wondered.” “Because I don’t.” “But I want to know why, Rose.” Lang purred, leaning forward, making the robe separate further. His dick lay hard between his thighs. “You’re a sexual being. I see the way your eyes blaze, the way your cock stands at attention. I want to know why you never act on these things ... with me.” “Because.” Like he’d ever stoop his dick so low. “That’s no answer.” Rojo planted his feet firmly apart on the ground. “It’s the only one you’re going to get. You’re trying to get out of it. But I think you wanted to fuck me out of my money. Demand back what you paid me already.” “You have so little faith in your abilities? To think Ward and Charlie would win? You disappoint me. I thought you were more arrogant than that.” Lang shook his head, rubbing a tight thigh with a large hand. “Why don’t you think differently? Think of it as a challenge. Who will bring me Crimson Daly first? You or my men?” “Challenge, my ass. That’s why you told me to take my fucking time. So they could swoop in, get her to you before I could.” “I wasn’t lying when I told you to take your time. To make it not look like a kidnapping. I gave my men the same instructions.” Lang stretched out a corded leg on the white satin sheets. No specks of blood marred them. The rumpled black comforter lay down at the foot of the bed by the shiny black footboard. Rojo resisted an urge to toss it over Lang’s nakedness, simply to piss Lang off. Now if it had been Crimson lying there, he’d have taken every peek and pulled everything off the bed. Lang had never stirred his blood enough to go against his rule. Crimson was the only one he’d met in over a hundred years who tempted him. Why did the slip of a girl make him so crazy? Rojo ran a hand across his head, rearranging where his braid came down. “Why the hell is Crimson so important to you?”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
45
Lang’s boyish face took on a look of consummate greed. It only flashed an instant, replaced by puzzlement and curiosity. Not a look he’d expected to see about Crimson. What did Lang think he could get from her? It had to be something good from that look. “Why do you want to know?” “Because I met her.” “You’ve made contact?” Rojo nodded. The hopeful look on Lang’s face sickened him. Lang hoped to get his talons into Crimson soon. Dammit, why should he feel this way about a job? That was what Crimson was, a job. Only she wasn’t, not to him anymore. When she’d crossed the line into being more, he didn’t know, but she had. What was he supposed to do now? “And she’s not someone I’d ever imagine you interested in.” Lang chuckled, the sound low and deep. Out of the corner of his eye, Rojo saw Lang’s dick shaking back and forth. “Appearances can be deceiving.” “So it’s not because of Henri that you want Crimson? It’s something about her?” Rojo didn’t make a move to indicate he was interested in this answer. He hadn’t wanted it to be anything about Crimson herself. Had hoped it was because of Henri. Not that that would save her with Lang. He’d torture her. Lang’s eyes took on a calculating glint. “Yes, as a matter of fact. It’s something about her.” He cocked his head to the side, rubbing a hand across his face. “Why the sudden interest in the girl?” “Because I’m interacting with her. And I think I ought to know.” Lang debated it, head still cocked. “I don’t think you need to know. It’s not important to the job I hired you for.” “Oh, but I think I do.” “Tough titty.” Lang smirked. “Fine. I’ll walk away.” He turned, heading for the door to Lang’s room. He’d not gotten his hand on it yet to open it when Lang spoke again. “You’ll owe me back the money.” He didn’t turn, but kept his eyes glancing behind him to make sure no weapons had been drawn. “You’ll get it. In full.” “You’re going to walk away from a million dollars because I won’t tell you? I’ll still get her. My men will be successful eventually.” “Not if I have anything to say about it.” He opened the door. “Rose! Wait. What do you mean by that?” Rojo smiled, where Lang couldn’t see it. Lang had taken his bait. He turned back to face the man who’d finally pulled his robe together. “If I’m not working for you, I don’t owe you anything.”
46
Mechele Armstrong
“So?” Lang sat up straighter, his hand going behind a pillow. Rojo tensed, his hand on his own weapon. “So, nothing prevents me from telling Crimson and Henri about your little plan.” He bared his fangs. “You can’t.” Lang sounded indignant. “It would blow your cover with her, too. They’d never trust you again.” “So?” Rojo shrugged, his shoulders rolling. “I don’t need their trust. I might not know why you want her. But I know you do. That’ll be enough to get her locked away safe from you.” “You wouldn’t dare.” “Try me.” Their eyes locked. Neither would drop his gaze. His eyes bored into Lang’s brown ones. “Rose, surely you can be reasonable.” “Perhaps.” Lang sighed. “This doesn’t leave this room.” “Given.” Lang’s eyes gleamed in the dim light from the lamps on either side of the room. “She’s a Conduit, Rose.” Rojo’s heart pounded in his chest, radiating out to his ears. It was all he could hear. His breathing quickened. Lang could read him, but he couldn’t stop every physical reaction from firing. He found his voice, hoarse though it was. “They’re myths. They don’t exist.” Lang spoke quietly, forcefully. “No, Rose. They aren’t myths, they are real. She’s one.” “You’re going to take her blood to magnify your power.” He didn’t ask the question but stated the fact. “Over and over and over again.” Lang pushed up to his feet, sliding out of the bed. He brought up something that had been under the pillow. “You and I ...” He walked over to Rose. “We could be a pair, a force to be reckoned with. Her power would make us the strongest vampires in the universe.” Rojo tightened his grip on his own knife at his side. If Lang touched him, he’d kill him. Drive the knife into his chest and then drain him like the rat he was. He’d kill him anyway, but definitely when Lang touched him. Lang sidled closer, his scent tickling his nose, but didn’t touch. “What do you say, Rose?” “No.” He gripped the knife, ready to spring it out, when the door slammed open to reveal Lang’s guards. There were six of them. Shit. His eyes went tight. He should have killed him when he’d had the chance. Get yourself together. He still reeled from what Lang had told him earlier. And it was about to get him killed.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
47
“It’s about time.” Lang rolled his eyes, thumping one’s chest. “He could have killed me by now.” And Rojo wished he had. His legs shook under him while he tried to steady them, and his hands trembled. “Rose, you’re turning down my offer?” “Yes.” Lang walked around him in widening circles. “I find that interesting. I also find your reactions to the news of what Crimson is ... fascinating.” Rojo didn’t say anything, simply watched Lang move back and forth around him, pacing. He didn’t move. Lang would take that as weakness. He let Lang come to him. “Have you fucked her yet?” “No.” “But you want to.” Rojo opened his mouth in negation. “Don’t deny it, Rose. But here’s the deal, you fuck her. Fuck her brains out. Break your rule like you won’t with me. Get her out of your system.” Lang smiled, a chilling smile meant to make people shiver. “Then deliver her to me. If you don’t, I will hunt you down and kill you like a dog.” Lang pulled his knife out of his robe, rolling it over and over in his hands. The blade sparkled its sharpness. “Do you understand?” Lang had never lost. Not even to Henri. They’d fought over a student. Lang had won. Henri had killed the student later, but Lang had won the battle. Rojo wouldn’t have a chance in an outright fight with Lang. He was no fool. If he didn’t deliver Crimson, he was dead. Rojo nodded, his mouth dried out like cotton. The nod was to let Lang know he’d heard and understood. Lang probably took it to mean Rojo agreed he would do it. He didn’t correct the assumption. He needed to get out of here before he got himself killed. Too many guards bearing big guns. Lang had the advantage. “Don’t fool yourself into being in love with her. Or anything stupid like that. Because she’s mine. You take her from me, it will be war.” Lang patted his cheek, the six guards looking on. “Understand?” “Perfectly.” Rojo turned to walk away. “Fuck with me, Rojo, and you will be fucked by me. Fucked over. Fucked in the ass. Everything. Your damn rules will mean nothing to me.” He could hear the steel in Lang’s voice that matched his blade.
48
Mechele Armstrong
He walked out of Lang’s house, heading for his car. He got in. Starting it, he put his hands tightly on the steering wheel. He drove far and away from Lang’s, knowing he was screwed. How could he deliver Crimson to Lang now, yet how could he not?
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
49
Chapter Six The rose wrapped strong branches around her, deep voice resonating inside her from the inside out. “Crimson, I need you. I need to be with you.” It spoke again with Rojo’s voice. His scent permeated over the sweet scent of roses. When it dipped its head, she tasted his unique flavor. “Yes,” she murmured softly. “Be with me.” He pulled her against the stem, rubbing against her crotch in a sensuous motion that took her so close to a climax. She moaned, needing his touch more intimately than he was giving it to her. Only that would send her over the edge. She rocked against him, telling him with her body what she needed. A stem reached down and pinged her clit. She came in a jarring crescendo that had her whole body quivering. “Ohhhhh.” She’d never come so hard before; it left her weak and sated. The bumblebee came out of nowhere, buzzing around, before sinking its stinger deep into Crimson’s chest. The rose looked on, sympathy etched on its hard flower face. One stem reached out to the wound and with one strong shove, pushed the stinger in deeper. “Crimson ...” The voice. Even through her pain she knew it. Whose was it? It was Henri. What was he doing there ... “Crimson ...” Crimson came awake to the sound of her name. She looked into the concerned eyes of Henri, standing over her bed. She blinked her own eyes, trying to clear them and her mind from the supernatural dream she’d had. “You were crying in your sleep. Are you all right?” He sat down on her bed. “Your skin is flushed.” She swallowed, her throat like sandpaper as she pulled her cotton nightgown down from where it had ridden up. “I ... I had a dream.” These things drove her nuts. Or maybe proved she was nuts. She couldn’t be sure which.
50
Mechele Armstrong
“What sort of dream?” Wearing inside-out tan PJ bottoms he must have thrown on quickly, he lay down in her bed beside her on his side, facing her, stroking her face as if seeking to calm her down. Even when the beast had been riding her hard, when she hadn’t known how to rein it in, Henri had always gotten close to her. He’d never shied away from physical closeness or contact the way so many had. “It’s ... it’s hard to explain.” “Try me.” He smiled, his fangs not even peeking from above his lips. She’d never understood how he could hide them so well. “I’m dreaming about a flower. I ... we ... make out; then it hurts me.” She could have told no one else about this, but somehow she could Henri. Hell, she never could have told Copper about this. “What kind of flower?” She bit her lip, then nuzzled his hand like a cat seeking affection. “A rose.” “Your favorite.” “I know. It’s odd.” She let out a long, drawn out sigh, which she almost swallowed at his next words. “Who’s the man you’ve been out with?” Crimson froze, her whole body straightening. Henri’s tone came out light, but his eyes had a serious cast to them. “What?” “The man. The one you’ve been hanging out with. Who is he?” “How do you know I’ve been out with a man?” She stalled. She’d known he knew. Henri chuckled, the sounds bursting out in a staccato rhythm. “I may be old as dirt. But I’m not stupid. You went out to a coffee shop, which you’ve never done before. And I’ve smelled him on you. And you said ‘him’ earlier.” “His name is Rojo. Rojo Rose.” Henri’s face showed nothing, a mask of impassivity. Did he know Rojo’s name? “Hmmm.” A noncommittal noise that could be disapproval, acceptance, suspicion. Nothing reflected on his face. “They don’t mean anything. The dreams, that is.” Crimson spoke fast and winced. Probably not her best comeback to Henri’s reaction. And who was she trying to convince, Henri or herself? “I didn’t say they did.” Henri stroked downward with the pad of his thumb on her cheek. “Why would you say that?” “I ... don’t know.” “Does this Rojo remind you of anything in your dreams? His last name is Rose.” She twisted up on her arm to look at him better. “Henri, this is going to sound stupid. But I ... in my dreams, I know the flower is dangerous. But I’m drawn anyway. It’s the same
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
51
with Rojo. He’s a vampire. And I know he’s not ... a good man. But I can’t keep my distance. He gets under my skin.” “And in your dreams, the flower hurts you.” Henri waited for her nod before continuing. “What do you think that could mean?” She gulped loudly. “That Rojo will hurt me. That he’ll try and kill me.” It sounded even more ominous out loud than in her head. “Keep in mind, in dreams, things aren’t always what they seem. The rose may represent the man.” Henri reclined more, folding his arms under his head. “Where does the rose hurt you? Any particular place on your body?” “My heart. He stabs me in the heart with a thorn. This last one though, a bumblebee came in and stung me. Rojo finished me off.” “Hmmmmm.” Henri’s dark lashes fluttered down to shade his eyes. Crimson hated the little noises he made sometimes while he thought. His next words were so soft, she barely made out what he said. “Something is changing. If ...” His eyes met hers. “How long have you been having these dreams?” “Not long. I met Rojo not long after the first one.” “Crimson, I suspect some things, but I need to have them verified.” He leaned down to stroke her cheek again. “You’re not crazy. I have to make a call.” Henri climbed from the bed. She watched his retreating back. Leave it to him to tell her what she most wanted to hear. Without ever having mentioned anything at all of the sort before. He was an enigma. She didn’t understand him, and few did, besides maybe Nathan. In some ways, he seemed to identify with her more than anyone else. Few talked about the early years of Henri’s vampirism. But sometimes, she sensed a hard edge to him, much grittier than anything she got from others. Their talk had answered no questions, though. She sighed, looking at all her roses around the room, searching for the calm center they usually helped her reach, but couldn’t find it. Her heart and head were awhirl with emotions, some she couldn’t even name. A tornado simmered inside her. She lay, trying to go back down for an hour or so of sleep, tossing and turning, her mind heavy-laden with Rojo, the dreams and what they meant.
The fang gleamed white at her. It beamed a bright light, twinkling at her. “Hello, Crimson. You might want to close your mouth.” Crimson’s mouth had fallen open, and she took the sharp tooth’s advice. “I’m talking to a fang.” It giggled. “Yes, I guess you are. Do you know who I belong to?”
52
Mechele Armstrong
She peered at the enamel-covered blob. “Not a clue.” Her eyes closed a hair as she squinted. “Should I?” Another light tinkling of laughter. “Probably not by sight. I haven’t had them long. Do you recognize my voice?” Crimson replayed the tone in her mind. Light Southern drawl, a melodic voice she knew. She couldn’t place it, but it was so familiar. “I should, but I don’t.” “It’s OK. You wouldn’t associate this voice with a fang.” The fang bobbed up and down, heading over to the other side of the black space with little twinkling lights that looked like stars, until it reached a woman. Up until that moment, Crimson would have sworn she and the fang were alone. The woman’s back was to her. Crimson strained her head to see. The fang disappeared. She kept peering. Long, wavy red hair reached down the small of the woman’s back. Jeans outlined her slim hips along with a maroon t-shirt. Lord, the woman was tiny. Much shorter than Copper and she. She didn’t have much meat on her bones, either. Sarah. It was Sarah, standing on the other side of this black void. “Hello, Sarah.” Crimson smiled at the woman she didn’t know well, but who had been the nicest to her during some rough times. Sarah smiled back widely, showing all her teeth. Including two new small fangs beaming from the top gum. One of them wiggled and giggled. Crimson slowly drifted to waking. In her own bed. She glanced around her room, making sure no fangs and no Sarah stood there. It had been so real. It had been surreal, too, of course, talking to a tooth. But like her dreams with the rose, it didn’t feel like a dream. She hadn’t seen Sarah since before things had gone south in Paris. Nick had been taking her to become a vampire ... Crimson shook off all sleep-induced confusion. Considering the dream had started with a fang that had wound up in Sarah’s mouth ... it would seem as though Nick had finally made her. She powered to the door, throwing it open, and almost ran Henri down. He’d been standing outside her room. “Ow. Zut alors. Crimson, what’s wrong?” She blinked at the much older man. “Why were you outside my door?” “What did you dream of, Crimson? Tell me.” Henri moved closer in the dim hallway, peering into her face. She wove her toes into the carpet. “How do you know I dreamed anything? What did you do, Henri?” “Who said I did anything?”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
53
She arched a brow at him, causing him to smirk. “Perhaps I did something. But I need to know what you dreamed first, before I tell you anything I might have done.” “Is Sarah a vampire yet?” He tapped his chin. “That’s not an answer.” “Is she?” He hushed her, putting a hand on her arm to move her back into her room. He shut the door behind them. “Yes, she is. Did you dream of her?” She couldn’t help the dizzy feeling inside. She’d had a weird dream, but it meant something. It wasn’t because she was crazy. She wanted to jump up and down and hug Henri. “First, it was about a fang. Don’t ask. But it was Sarah’s, and she turned around, not human Sarah anymore, but vampire Sarah.” Henri nodded. “Good, mon etudiante.” “Why is that good? I mean other than because my dreams are about something, and I’m not that crazy.” She squelched the warm feeling that that evoked within her. “You never were crazy, Crimson. I only wish I could convince you of that. It’s good because your vampire powers are what I suspected them to be, after what you told me about your flower dreams.” She sank down on her bed. Henri sat down beside her. “I have more powers than the usual?” “It would appear so.” Henri patted her hand, squeezing it in his warm one. “Not every vampire does. Some merely have the increased strength and agility of our race. It sometimes depends on what the human brings to mix when they become.” “I never had dreams as a human.” “Oh, really?” He arched a brow. “You never dreamed?” She leaned back, a grin on her face. Henri didn’t tease that often. It made her feel more warmth inside that he teased her. Damn, this better not launch into a sappy card-commercial dream. “OK. Let me rephrase that. I dreamed. But I never had ones that told me anything before.” “The powers can be latent. Sometimes mental abilities skip a generation or two. Like sometimes twins do. Sometimes the powers are merely undiscovered. Untapped, if you will.” Crimson had had a maternal grandmother who had read tea leaves and done all sorts of “fortune-telling hoodoo,” as her mother had termed it. Maybe there had been something beyond the hocus pocus that headed into truth. And that grandmother had also been part of a set of twins -- twins being an occurrence that seemed to skip a generation. Her sister hadn’t done anything of that sort. “So what is this power?”
54
Mechele Armstrong
“It would seem, mon etudiante, that you have the power of foresight.” Her heart stopped, then started pounding again. “Shit, I’m like The Dead Zone guy?” She’d read the book and watched the series for a while. “The Dead Zone?” Henri’s brow creased in puzzlement. He never had watched a lot of American TV, unlike his lover who was enamored with having cable. “It’s a book and a TV show. A movie, too, I think. I can tell the future?” Crimson’s enthusiasm faded. She might not be crazy, but what a sucky gift to be stuck with. She didn’t want to know what was going to happen to anyone, herself included. What would happen if she saw horrible things happening to the people she loved? And could she ever change the things she saw? “In a way. The dreams are symbolism telling you what has passed and what will come to pass.” Henri tapped her hand to get her attention. Much like the teachers in school had used rulers to keep her focused. Only not as painful. “You saw Sarah’s fang because of her new vampirism.” Crimson’s heart rattled, and her palms beaded up with sweat. If what she’d seen about Sarah was true, then that meant what she’d seen about Rojo had to be true, too. She wouldn’t be able to resist him, and he’d hurt her, try to kill her. Dammit. This gift sucked. She’d much rather have another one. Tears pricked up the walls to her eyes, threatening to overflow. She tried to blink them back, but the overflow was too much. Henri wrapped her in warm strong arms. “This Rojo must mean something to you. You’re crying because of the dreams? You cry so rarely.” Her voice went down an octave with hoarseness. “He hurts me.” “Sometimes people do not do these things deliberately. Sometime they are accidental by-products.” He patted her back, smoothing her nightgown down in small little circles. “And the dream is changing from what it was originally, non? The future isn’t set in stone, cherie. Every minute action changes the future in some way. And the interpretations of these dreams aren’t certain. This rose doesn’t have to be your Rojo.”
Her Rojo. The words together made her insides go all gooey. If only that were the case, she’d be a happy woman. But a man like Rojo didn’t take a woman lightly. Whatever happened between them, he’d leave her marked for all time. She let out a long sigh. He already had. “What else could it be?” She flopped back miserably in her bed. Throwing the covers up over her head and sleeping for millennia sounded like a good idea. “I don’t know.” Henri shrugged, still patting her. “If he is the rose, I’ll kill him for hurting you.” Crimson shivered at the coldness in Henri’s voice. No doubt in her mind, he’d do it. The contrasts of Henri amazed her more than anyone else. He could be so tender, so loving
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
55
with Nathan, yet so ruthless with others. He killed vampires he didn’t think would be anything but animals, showing no mercy. He never talked much about his past, but some things he’d said had her wondering if he’d always been the teacher vampire. Sometimes he understood her all too well. “Wait a minute.” She started, sitting up straight on her bed, away from Henri. “How do you know Sarah’s a vampire?” “Because I talked to her.” “When?” “After your first dream.” Henri held up a hand. “I had to know about your powers. We must work on cultivating them, controlling them. This seemed a logical way to test it.” He had a point. “Sarah has connected through her dreams before.” “Did Sarah send me the information?” “She did.” Henri moved to her side, laying his head down, looking up at her. He looked like he had a gut. She had found out in self-defense training it was muscle. It hurt when you hit him. The man had little fat on his body. “Then how do we know it’s accurate? Maybe I don’t have powers at all. Maybe she sent the information, and I picked it up. Doesn’t mean I had anything to do with it. She’s got an extremely powerful mind.” “You had to have the power, or it wouldn’t have worked. You wouldn’t have dreamed about Sarah’s news even with her doing a light push-out. Plus, that doesn’t explain your rose dream.” She sighed, low and deep, the air inflating her lungs like a balloon. “True. Why can’t I have good dreams? Or dreams that tell me something useful. I had no dreams about the man who sent his frigging minions after me.” Henri froze, his lashes fluttered down, his whole body stilled. “What man?” His voice chilled to a few degrees lower than ice cubes. “Oh, oops. In all the dreaming confusion, I forgot to tell you about that.” Crimson’s foot tapped on her mattress. How could she have forgotten that? “Yes, apparently you did. What man, Crimson?” “Two men came to the pool tonight. They tried to take me out of there.” She smiled, a little proud of herself for her good defensive moves. “I got one in the pool and got him to talk. A vampire named Lang hired them.” Henri’s entire face blanched. Then it did that hardening thing it had done earlier about Rojo hurting her, only about ten times meaner. “Be sure. They said Lang hired them?” She nodded. “I told them to go back and tell him to leave me alone. I can’t imagine why he wants me.”
56
Mechele Armstrong
“Merde. Sheet.” Considering he’d repeated the word in two languages, she didn’t think he was paying attention to diction. “You know Lang?” Henri hopped out of the bed, paced a few strides. “I know the son of a bitch.” He flooded an image into her mind. She didn’t recognize the brown-headed man in the vision. Henri whispered his name in her mind.
Lang. He had a human on the floor, lashing him with a cat-o-nine tails. He and a woman laughed with each scream and each dip of their head to take blood that swirled down in rivulets under the doomed mortal. Her eyes met Henri’s, probably full of revulsion and fear. Her stomach ached. He didn’t bombard her with how he knew Lang, only the images of what Lang looked like and what he was capable of. They hadn’t had tea and crumpets by Henri’s earlier reaction, and this made that a definite. Henri was good. She could never do that. ’Course, he had a few years on her. A few thousand. Shaken by what she’d seen, Crimson reached out her arms to Henri. He took her hand and sat down again. “Why does he want me? I’m a nobody.” “If we’d found out about your vampire powers earlier, I’d say maybe he wishes to harvest them, to keep you as his predictor of the future. And yes, that is done with vampires of your particular gift. Like your sister, you could be in some danger. And I’m not sure the mating rituals will protect you. Unless you find yourself a Conduit to mate with.” “Great.” Crimson grumbled to herself. Conduits were damn rare from what she’d been told. They were often used to the point of death before they found their mates. “But we only found out about them tonight. So that can’t be why he hired the goons to bring you to him.” “Then why?” She leaned back against her pillow, resting on her back. “Bastian and I have tried to keep Copper’s status as a Conduit as quiet as possible. But there have been some who have found out.” Henri’s lips drew in a grim line. “So? She’s safe. She’s mated to Bastian, why would it matter ...” Crimson broke off, the thoughts in her head spinning around. “I’m why it would matter. Being the sister of the Conduit.” “Not only a sister, but a twin. Other vampires will decide you must have the same capabilities.” “But I don’t,” she sputtered. “I’m not a Conduit.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
57
“They don’t know that. And Lang has decided you are. He will stop at nothing to get hold of you. And once he learns you aren’t what he thinks you are, he’ll ball you up and toss you away like the garbage he should be placed with.” Henri growled, the sound more animal than human. She drew back from him. She’d never heard such a sound in her life, much less from Henri. She’d never seen him angry. With Lang, she might, and she had a feeling she’d never want to see it again once she saw it the first time. A light rap sounded at the door. “It’s Nathan.” “Come in,” she called. He pushed the door open. “Hello, Crimson.” Nathan didn’t say anything to Henri, but stalked over to him, wrapping his body around his, whispering gentle words that she couldn’t make out. The rage ebbed out of Henri. She could see it on his face. Nathan kissed him softly, backing off a little, but keeping himself in contact with his lover. “Continue on.” Nathan and Henri had a special relationship that she didn’t understand. And this proved it. How had Nathan calmed Henri with a mere touch? “So what do we do?” She shoved her shaking hands up under her body. She didn’t want them to know how much this frightened her. “Run?” That solution would solve more than Lang. It would fix her tumultuous feelings about Rojo. Hard to not be able to resist someone if you were physically away from them. Out of sight, out of mind. Henri shook his head. “He’ll follow, attack again when we let our guard down. I don’t want you to be running the rest of your life.” “So what are our other choices?” His voice became brusque. “I’m going to make some phone calls. See what I can find out about where Lang is.” He headed for the doorway, followed by Nathan. He abruptly turned back around to face her. “I want to meet this Rojo Rose. Bring him to dinner tonight. I’ll get his favorite vintage.” Crimson teetered nervously between excitement and terror at Rojo meeting Henri. “He’s a vampire, Henri.” “I know. I can get specific blood types.” He shut the door behind them. Nathan had asked no questions. Henri told Nathan everything or close to it, so he’d be filled in later. But he hadn’t asked for any more detail than what he heard. Her, her sister, Henri, Nathan, Bastian, and Rojo all in the same house. How close to Mexico could she make it by dinnertime?
58
Mechele Armstrong
Chapter Seven Lang tossed Charlie against the wall of the formal living room. The room was for entertaining, after all, and seemed like a good place to formally punish. Charlie landed with a thud and didn’t get up, cowering on the floor on all fours. “You fucking idiots.” Lang snarled the words, tossing them out the way he later planned to throw punches and knives. He advanced on Charlie, who covered his head with his hands. That still left ample body parts on which he could take out his fury. He kicked Charlie’s side, his steel-toed boots crushing ribs as he did it again and again. Before he was done, Charlie would bathe the room in his blood. What would it matter? He’d be moving on with his prize once he acquired her anyway. This setback wouldn’t keep his Conduit from him. But the thought that it might delay his plans sent new fury coursing through him. “I tell you, keep a low profile. I tell you, don’t take her by force. I tell you, don’t let Rose know you’re there. What do you do?” He punctuated the next words he spoke with more kicks. “You let Rojo see you following her. You try and kidnap her at the fucking Y. You broke all three orders I gave to you.” Charlie gurgled, blood welling up in his mouth. He turned, trying to crawl a few feet away from him. Lang put his foot on Charlie’s back, pushing him to the floor. Charlie collapsed in a heap under his boot, panting in short spurts. “She’s going to be under lock and key with Henri now. He’ll be keeping an eye out for anyone going after her.” “But Lang ...” Ward broke off at his furious look.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
59
He faced him, taking a step to Ward. Ward shook, but straightened up on his heels, lifting his head to meet Lang’s eyes. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you? Why I should let you live after you fucked up my plans?” Ward bowed to his knees. “We’re sorry.” He prostrated himself, hoping it would save him and his friend. It wouldn’t. Lang’s anger had been driven too far. Someone had to pay for the lapse in time before he got his power. “Sorry? You’re sorry!” He advanced on Charlie again. His knife plunged down into Charlie’s back. “You defied me. You may have cost me my Conduit for now. And you’re sorry?” He pulled Charlie up with the knife still embedded in his back. “You’re a sorry sack of shit, that’s all you are.” He dropped Charlie to the floor, disengaging the knife. Charlie let out a loud groan, but didn’t try and get away. “The only good thing is that Henri doesn’t know I’m the one after Crimson.” Ward swallowed, the noise like the sound of popping corn because the tendons in his neck were so tight. They bulged more as he turned his head, looking at the wall, no longer meeting Lang’s eyes. “You didn’t ...? You didn’t tell her who you worked for?” He saw the truth in Ward’s face. “You did. They know it all. You stupid, worthless excuses for vampires.” He slammed the knife down again in Charlie’s back. Blood shot everywhere. He twisted it, trying to get the spinal cord. “Please, Lang. He can’t take too much more.” Ward’s voice came out pleading and hesitant. Charlie had either lost consciousness or completely given up. Except for an occasional moan of pain, he was silent. “He’ll heal, but damn, Lang ...” “Do you want to replace him? To take the brunt of my anger? You want the heel of my boot in your side instead of his? I’ll be glad to do that.” He motioned with the knife he pulled out of Charlie, a glob of blood flying at Ward. “Come right over and take his place. Then we’ll see how much you can take.” Ward cringed, his face falling. Then he shook his head, looking down at the carpet instead of meeting Lang’s eyes. “I didn’t think so.” He smirked, turning his attention back to Charlie and making him pay for the mistakes they had both made. Much later, all that was left of Charlie was a large pile of ash sitting in the corner. He had broken his body before he killed him, sucked him dry, and made his death as painful as he could. Ward sat where he’d gone to his knees in apology, head still bowed. He’d stayed that way the whole time, looking down at the carpet while Charlie screamed and bled. “I will do whatever you tell me. Whatever it is.” His voice shook. “I’ll do it. I promise. I won’t make another mistake.”
60
Mechele Armstrong
Ward and Charlie had come to him as a pair of young college-age men. Lang had taken them, turned them, and put them into service. They’d been friends before becoming vampires and strong allies afterwards, probably lovers as well. Ward had sat by and watched Lang kill someone he cared for. No word of defense had been given, and he’d refused to take Charlie’s place. Some would say it wasn’t fair that Lang had not punished Ward. But he had. The mental scars of standing by and doing nothing out of fear would last longer than anything he could physically do to the vampire. This would keep Ward’s loyalty intact and make him tractable. Guilt would eat heavily at him over what he hadn’t done. He wouldn’t last long, but Lang would use him well while he existed. He hadn’t wanted to kill them both. How had he picked Charlie? Alphabetical order. The poor dumb fuck had the misfortune to be friends with a man whose name started with W. He walked forward and patted Ward’s head. Ward tried to evade his hand at first, but then allowed the touch. He could feel the man’s skull trembling. He forced Ward’s head up to meet his eyes. “Good boy, Ward. Obey me, and I won’t hurt you like Charlie.” He pushed with his hand, and Ward wound up sitting on his ass. He waved a hand indicating the room. “Clean it up. I want the blood and the ash out of here.” Ward made a low swallowing noise. “Yes, Lang.” He pushed himself to his feet and over to where the rest of Charlie lay. Lang heard a sob as he stalked out of the room.
Good. Ward would think twice before screwing up again. Dammit, they had turned what should have been an easy retrieval into something difficult. Rose had wavered in his resolve to bring in the girl, which was something Lang hadn’t counted on happening. The money should have been enough to keep his interest piqued. The fear he’d instilled in Rose tonight should affect him so much that he’d do it, despite his wavering. He’d sensed Rose’s near panic. He wasn’t sure exactly what the root of it was. He’d worked it, trying for a pitch to suit his own needs. But Rose was a wild card. Nothing could be certain where he was concerned. Lang wanted to find a way into the leather pants Rose kept so tightly zipped. He always had, but Rose was too cautious to let him. Somehow Crimson had gotten in, under Rose’s skin, that was obvious. How had she done it? That intrigued Lang quite a bit. He still hoped to find a way into Rose’s pants and that Rose would buckle down, bring him his Conduit. If Rose defied him, he’d have to kill him.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
61
That would be a fight worth having. Rojo wouldn’t cower in some corner, waiting for his punishment. He’d willingly fight Lang to the death. Rose had killed his maker. It was something few vampires could claim. There was a certain stigma to killing the one who’d brought you over. That he had done so made Rojo seem more dangerous. It had built his reputation up before he even had one. Perhaps he needed to find more leverage against Rojo to keep him in line? He frowned, weighing the options. Rose had little that he held dear. Maybe this girl had gotten to him, and that’s why he was not anxious to do the job anymore. Were it not for Rose’s reputation and what he’d seen of the vampire, he’d believe that. He didn’t see Rose as that taken in by a piece of pussy. Even if he’d been that far gone, Lang couldn’t use his Conduit as leverage. He’d never kill her, and Rose would know that. He’d have to be on alert with Rojo Rose. Keep his guard up in case Rose didn’t let the fear rule him. Lola better have success in making contact and bringing in Crimson. With things so fucked up, she was his only real hope.
***** Rojo tossed things into his worn leather suitcase. Not that he had much, only some clothes and weapons.
Coward. No, he was into self-preservation. Always had been. Always would be. He was running away to anywhere but here, before he got himself into deep shit. No greater lie existed than that. Deep shit was already here, and he was mired in it up to his armpits. Tossing a pair of combat boots and a gun into the case, he looked around at the open drawers on the dresser. He’d not unpacked everything, only enough to get by with, so he could leave in a hurry if necessary, and it was necessary. When he’d left Lang’s, he’d gone to the YMCA. Crimson would be there already, as night had fallen while he’d been at Lang’s. Damn, the man could talk. Ward and Charlie had been in their car, pulling out of the parking lot. Immediately, he’d seen Crimson walking out to her car. He loved the way she walked. There was a natural slink to it, an inherent sexiness and grace. He could watch her walk around all damn day. Especially if she did it naked. He arched a brow at the vision that made, hardening instantly.
62
Mechele Armstrong
Ward and Charlie wouldn’t try anything yet. It was way too soon in their reconnaissance to do anything and not have it look like a kidnapping, which Lang had been specific about in his orders. He hadn’t let Crimson know he was there. Hadn’t even pulled into the parking lot. Why the fuck had he checked on her? He’d never lost sleep over a job before. And that was all Crimson Daly was, a job. He’d always killed the poor SOB, collected his money, eaten a good meal, and gone on his way. Hell, most of the people he killed for work or for meals did something to get there. They weren’t innocents. Maybe killing was easier than kidnapping. Crimson wasn’t an innocent. He’d seen the testimony of the girl in Paris. But there had to be more to it than what he’d read. He closed his eyes. There he went again, thinking the best of a woman he hardly knew. Looking at his half-packed suitcase, he swore out loud. “Shit.” He’d never run away from anything. Not jobs, not other vampires, not women, hell, not even his maker when she’d ... He drew in a deep breath; he wasn’t about to go there in his thinking. He hadn’t even run away from his Momma, though she’d rather fuck cowboys than raise her boy. He’d cared for her when he was twelve, and she was dying of syphilis. So why was he running now? He couldn’t leave. Sitting with a plop on his bed, none of the reasons to go seemed as important as the one reason he’d stay. The reason that would get him killed. Crimson. Her lovely body invaded his thoughts. God, she was the prettiest, softest thing he’d ever seen. His dick swelled, soon aching from hardness, from wanting a woman, and not just any woman. He wanted only Crimson. He was definitely fucked. Stalking out of his room, he headed for the one thing that made no sense.
***** “Crimson, phone,” Nathan’s voice called outside her door. She lay on her bed curled up, not wanting to face the night yet. “Who is it?” Please be Rojo. He hadn’t taken her number. But he was a resourceful vampire. Surely that wouldn’t stop him from staying in touch with her. Was their number
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
63
listed or unlisted? She’d have to ask Henri. She’d realized after Henri invited Rojo to dinner, she had no way to contact him. “Some woman.” Crimson sighed. If it was a telemarketer, survey person, or worse, a political campaign, she’d make Nathan pay. He found it amusing to dump those calls on her and Henri. He also had a habit of letting in people going door to door selling stuff. She wasn’t in the mood to be talked into some credit card she didn’t need. “Hello?” “Hi, Crimson?” The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Yeah?” “It’s Lola. We met at the YMCA a day or so ago.” A rather bubbly, coquettish voice came across the line. Crimson rubbed her head. She did remember her. She’d been in the dressing room, getting ready to go out to the pool to swim. Lola had started talking to her nonstop. Not an unusual thing in there. For some reason, women wanted to bond in the locker room. But then, Lola had chattered about looking for a workout partner. She’d perkily asked Crimson, who’d halfheartedly agreed, though she’d cringed about it later. She didn’t know why she’d said yes. She often did things without thinking them through, but the woman seemed friendly enough. She liked to swim and wanted a partner to prod her into going there to exercise. They’d exchanged numbers. So now she was roped into doing it. Crimson blew out a breath. “You were looking for a swimming partner, right?” “Yeah. I wondered if we could meet. Do some laps together. I need the pressure on to keep me going.” “Sure. I was going there later tonight, anyway.” “Oh, great. I’ll meet you at the YMCA?” “OK.” Crimson put the receiver back in the handle. The YMCA and grocery store were the only two places where Rojo had contacted her. So maybe going to the YMCA would make him appear. She didn’t want to go stand in King Soopers and wait around. She packed her gym bag. “Going to swim?” Nathan yawned, walking over to her as she sat on the couch in the living room, sliding on shoes. “Yeah. I need it today.” “Give me a minute, and I’ll get ready. Drive you there.” Nathan sounded sleepy. His hair was tousled, like he hadn’t been up long. Crimson’s eyes flitted up and down. “What?”
64
Mechele Armstrong
“I’m driving you to the YMCA.” “Since when?” “Since the decree came down from Henri. You’re not to be alone out in public.” Nathan plopped down in the brown recliner with another yawn. “Oh, that’s ridiculous. I got rid of Lang’s little henchmen once. I can do it again. Why do I need a babysitter?” She glared at Nathan, who rearranged his shoes from the wrong feet he’d put them on. “Especially one who’s going to sleep.” “Hey! I’m awake. I’m a little tired.” He ended his agitated rant on a huge yawn that contradicted his use of the world “little.” “You were up and going when the phone rang earlier. Looking rather bright and cheery. Why would you be so tired now?” His eyes took on that twinkle that Crimson had seen many times before. “’Cause I woke up hard when I woke up. Or rather got woken up by a hard ...” She waved a hand, glaring at his grin. “I get it. I get it.” “Good. And get used to company. With Lang after you, I don’t think Henri intends to let you out of sight for a while. And neither do I.” She’d never heard such stubbornness in Nathan’s voice before. “I’m not a baby. I can defend myself. No one trusts me.” She snatched up her gym bag, jumping up to her feet. “I’m not some child who needs protection.” He pushed himself to his feet, now encased in shoes that were on correctly. He reached out, squeezing her shoulder. “I know you aren’t. And so does Henri. But he worries, and so do I. I don’t like what Henri told me about Lang.” She still didn’t like having a chaperone. And what would Nathan do? He wasn’t a fighter. If it had been Bastian or Copper, Henri wouldn’t have made them be accompanied everywhere. So Nathan hadn’t known Henri when he’d encountered Lang. He’d had to be told about it. Time to ask him some other questions. “What did you do when you came in the room with Henri and me today?” “What do you mean?” His eyelashes fluttered over suddenly distant eyes. His eyes flashed cold, too, not the puppy-dog look she saw so often. “Henri was supremo pissed. Probably more than I’ve ever seen him. You came in, and he calmed down.” “He’s my lover. Of course he calmed down with me.” Nathan turned away. “Come on, let’s head out.” Nathan had blown her question off. He never did that. She folded her hands against her pelvis as she followed, her bag on her shoulder, her mind filing it away for future reference. He’d never seemed so shut off or gone so distant before as he had with those simple questions.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
65
Did he have a special vampire power? She didn’t know and had assumed that he didn’t have anything special. They arrived at the Y. Crimson stopped in the hallway at the door to the women’s locker room. “Coming in here with me?” She arched a brow at him, daring him to. “Much as the idea of naked women turns me on, I don’t think they’d appreciate my dick.” He folded his arms, leaning up against the wall. “No, they probably wouldn’t. It’s stupid for you to come here, sit and watch while I swim. I’m out of your sight when I go in there to change.” He nodded to his watch. “You have five minutes to get out there into the pool. For your shower, I’ll give you twenty-five. If you aren’t out when the time limit is over, I’ll come looking for you.” He winked at her, walking away to the chairs in a waiting area separated from the pool by glass windows. “Nathan ...” “Time’s ticking, Red.” She cursed under her breath. Darn man. He would come in there, too, like he said he would. And be lascivious and ogle everyone in there. He’d carry her out of the lockers if she wasn’t fast enough for him. She was out with thirty seconds to spare. Good thing she hadn’t had to pee. Nathan shot her a thumbs-up. She was tempted to put up another finger to him, but there were people around. He’d only laugh anyway. “Hi, Crimson. I’m so glad we’re going to be swimming together.” She had been so busy with Nathan, she hadn’t noticed Lola sitting on a bench by the pool, waiting. Lola grabbed her in a hug tighter than a vise. She stiffened until the woman let her go. Lola’s heavy perfume made her eyes water. The chlorine the pool used was hell enough on her vampire senses. This was pure damn torture. She coughed, her airways spasming. Must get her in the water. Maybe that would cut down the stench. “I am, too.” “Who’s the man you’re with?” Lola waved a hand to indicate Nathan, who had stretched himself out on one of the sofas in the lobby waiting area. He grinned his goofy, puppy-dog grin, noticing them looking at him. His ego probably figured Lola was checking him out. She rolled her eyes. If only she could tell him that wasn’t the case. “That’s a friend. He drove me here.” “Nice of him.”
66
Mechele Armstrong
“Yeah. Nice.” She couldn’t keep the annoyance out of her voice. She hated being treated like a child. She was one, in vampire terms. But she still loathed having to go through it. Hell, she hadn’t liked being treated like a child when she was one. “This will be so good for getting my rear in gear and exercising. Having a friend to go with.” Lola’s face became wistful. “Your body is so toned. So muscular.” Lola tossed an envious look her way.
You’ve got to be kidding. Lola was a knockout. Blond hair draped over tawny skin encased in a low-cut blue bathing suit that matched her eyes. Her breasts threatened to spill out of the top. She wasn’t plump, but had generous curves. “You’ve got a great body, too.” The woman’s long lashes batted at her. “Why, thank you.” Her voice took on a purring drawl. Her eyes acquired a glint. “Glad you think so.” Crimson’s mouth went into the cotton fields and came out thick with thirst. Calm down. She’s merely being friendly. “Ready to get started? We’ll set up in a lap lane. Are there any strokes you prefer?” “The breaststroke.” Her eyes dipped down to Crimson’s cleavage.
She’s flirting with me. Her hand went to pull her bathing suit up over her breasts, then drifted awkwardly down to hang at her side, bunching up and releasing. The voices in her head squabbled over Lola’s intentions, while her stomach encased a few dozen butterflies trying to get free. “OK.” Did the woman brush up against her deliberately, getting in the pool? Crimson closed her eyes, seeking a measure of control. Her imagination was working overtime.
This isn’t Paris. It isn’t Belle. It’s not Evangeline. Lola only wants someone to swim with, not to get into your pants. She checked the woman to see if she was a vampire, but got nothing. That didn’t mean anything, except that she couldn’t read her. Sometimes when she was upset, her vampire senses didn’t work quite right. She didn’t sense anything, which would be odd if Lola was truly human. But she chalked it up to nerves. Several more innuendo things happened, but she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined them or not. Lola buzzed around her, chattering as they swam. She swam as quickly as she could, trying to get her laps over with and get out of the YMCA. She felt uncomfortable and out of sorts, without knowing why. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Lola asked as they finished up, pulling on a cover-up robe. “Yeah. Aren’t you going to shower?” She wrapped her towel around her. She wouldn’t miss a warm shower after swimming. “No. I have to run. You get on out to your friend now.” Lola booked out the back entrance of the pool, where the family locker rooms were.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
67
She puckered her mouth. Odd that Lola hadn’t wanted to meet Nathan. Crimson would have figured she’d want to. Something about Lola didn’t seem right.
Oh, give it a rest. It’s because she hit on you, and your own issues. It probably was. She sighed, walking into the locker room. She picked a big shower stall, hanging her towel up on the hook outside. Grabbing her little bag with all her toiletries in it, she stepped inside. In her haste to get going, she’d forgotten to check it and had left her loofah glove at home. So much for exfoliating. Not that she had time with Nathan timing her. She’d better hurry up before he came in to irk the snot out of her. Pulling down the straps to her bathing suit, she let the warm jets of water cascade over her as the suit dropped to the floor. The curtain was pulled aside as a voice rumbled. “Enjoying your shower, baby?” Rojo stood outside the stall, fully clothed, with a wicked grin.
68
Mechele Armstrong
Chapter Eight Rojo stepped into the front of the shower, where he wouldn’t get sprayed, and closed the curtain behind him. Crimson gaped at him a moment or two. He enjoyed the view. Her body was toned, lean, with the right amount of curves. She had the pale, smooth skin of a redhead. Her breasts were small but heavy, with rosy nipples. She had long legs that he itched to have wrapped around him. And her hair at the center of her body was a little darker than the hair on her head. She was a true redhead, as if he’d had any doubts. His dick butted up against the seam of his pants, hardening to the point he wanted to free it. “What are you doing in here?” She finished sudsing up her hair, making no attempt to cover her body. Her hands never would have done the job; hands never could, and it always looked ridiculous when women tried. He liked that she didn’t try and hide herself from his eyes. “I wanted to see you.” He still hadn’t figured out what he was doing with her. Well, he knew what he wanted to do with her. His dick twitched, reminding him. He’d wanted to stay away from her for many reasons, but couldn’t. She’d drawn him like a butterfly to the nectar. He’d work not to get pricked by the many thorns. “Well, now you’ve seen a lot of me.” She leaned her head back to rinse out the shampoo. “You had to see me so badly, you came into the women’s locker room?” She glopped something else in her hair; he guessed it was conditioner. He leaned on the side of the stall. “I saw your bodyguard sitting outside the pool, and you getting out after swimming.” He’d recognized Nathan from pictures Lang had provided. “I slipped in the back door to the lockers so no one saw me.” “Lucky no one else came in here.” She lathered up her body with body wash. A light lavender scent hit his nose. Watching her hands glide up and down her skin had him harder
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
69
than he’d ever been. Her skin would be silken and hot under his fingertips. His stomach muscles clenched. He’d spend hours exploring her body. “How do you know Nathan? I didn’t know you’d ever seen him before.” It took a minute to roll up his tongue from his knees and get it back to speaking. His brain took that long to get back to thinking about anything other than her skin. “When I was watching you before we met, I saw him. So I knew you lived with him.” “Ah.” She rolled her eyes. “I told them I didn’t need anyone to babysit me. But some maniacal asshole is after me, so I’m going to be supervised from now on.” Her disgusted tone told him exactly how she felt about it. Rojo kept his face impassive. “Oh? What happened?” He should have made some biting comment about her sitter and Henri, trying to discredit them in her eyes and separate her from them. Dammit, he couldn’t do that. Not anymore. He was screwed. “Who’s after you? Why?” Ward and Charlie must have messed up going after her before they could succeed in taking her. Damn morons, he should have known they’d try something and fail because they couldn’t wait. He wouldn’t want to be them right now. Lang had inventive ways of making those who failed him pay. “Some psycho, because he thinks ...” She broke off, her eyes meeting his. “Who knows what he thinks? His goons tried to nab me.” “Are you OK?” He moved half a step closer. If they’d hurt her ... Dammit, he had no right to be irritated with them. What did he think was going to happen when she found out about Lang hiring him? She’d be hurt by him. And how would he keep her from Lang, who would keep hurting her forever? Dammit, he had to deliver her, or those inventive ways of Lang’s would be directed at him. “Oh, I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me.” She let out a smug grin. “I did more to them. It’s a pain in my ass. Nothing to worry about though.” Her face cut to a frown as she shrugged her shoulders. “I can handle myself. I’m not some baby.” Good. They knew Lang was after her. He refused to question the emotion there, because he shouldn’t be thinking that way. But apparently they didn’t know he was a part of Lang’s plans. What was he going to do about her? He had to deliver her, Lang hadn’t left him much choice. His eyes swept up and down her body and wiped away all thoughts of Lang and what he needed to do. “You sure aren’t a baby.” His voice got husky. She was a babe, not a baby. She switched off the shower. He took three more steps toward her. “Not a baby at all, Crimson.” His nostrils flared at the scent that was wholly Crimson, which superseded the light soap, conditioner, and lavender scents she’d added.
70
Mechele Armstrong
He lowered his head, mouth dipping down. She leaned back away from him. He shoved down the beast, which wanted to grab her, force her. “I haven’t dried off yet. You’re going to get wet if you touch me.” He chuckled, the sound echoing in the shower stall. “I sure hope I do get wet. In many ways.” He let her grasp the innuendo before he proceeded. He claimed her mouth, kissing her fiercely, his tongue going in to dance with hers. His hands went down to cup her naked ass, taking one cheek in each hand. They fit perfectly. She molded against him like a second set of clothes as he kissed her. She tasted like cherries. And her mouth was so smooth against his, gliding across it as he dominated the kiss. “Oh, Rojo ...” she moaned. It set him on fire, his name on her lips. He wanted to hear it again and again, to hear her scream it while he fucked her senseless.
So, why not? Even Lang said to take her before he delivered her. He shook thoughts of Lang out of his head. Crimson could read him at times. Nothing he could stop because he wasn’t even sure why or how it happened. He’d best block that man out of his consciousness before she got an inkling that he knew Lang before he was ready for her to. Who was he kidding? He’d never be ready for her to know. And it would cost him. Damn, this decision was tearing him apart.
Get lost in her. His hand moved around her hipbones to come up to cup a breast. The peaking nipple poked his palm. He rubbed ever so gently across it. Then caught it between his pointer and middle finger and rolled it back and forth, ending on a pinch. Her hips rocked against him. As he toyed with her breast, he moved his thigh between her legs. They centered around it like a vise, squeezing. She rubbed against him, trying to get the friction going that she wanted. He wanted inside her, and the rhythm she created made him burn, made his animal rage to claim her. He’d content himself with this for a starter.
That’s it, rock against me. I’m not done with you yet. Don’t ever be done with me, Crimson’s voice pleaded in his mind. Never. He startled at what he said. Not something he’d meant to say, even in their minds. Dammit, why did this woman turn him into a starry-eyed boy? And why did they have the ability to talk inside each other’s minds? Leaning down, he attached his mouth to her breast, taking away any and all coherent thoughts from them both. He’d make this about her pleasure and her pleasure alone. Never
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
71
had he cared so much about a partner. Of course, he’d had few lovers he hadn’t bought and paid for. He suckled as eagerly as a newborn babe, tonguing her nipple. The areolas were such a dusky pinkish-rose. God, she was beautiful Switching breasts, he was rewarded with a sag in her body. Her knees buckled slightly, his hands cupping her butt. He opened his eyes to look at her. Her head was partially thrown back, eyes closed, framed by long lashes. Her mouth was swollen from his kisses, lips parted a sliver as if waiting for him to come back up and kiss them again. He had other lips on his mind for the next place his should go, further down her body than her mouth. Gently positioning her back against the stall wall, he used his hands on her hips to steady her. The contrast of his hands on her skin mesmerized him. His hands looked so dark and rough against her pale, silky hips. She leaned back on the wall with a half smile. “What are you doing?” He knelt in front of her, eliciting a gasp. His head was level with her pelvis, exactly where he wanted to be. She knew what he planned to do and trembled in anticipation. He’d make her come again in this shower. And he’d be with her this time. “You’re getting your pants wet.” Her voice was low and hoarse, with a sound of reluctance. She didn’t want him to stop. “I don’t care.” He pushed his face into her mound, nuzzling the soft skin. His fingers stroked her inner thigh, parting her legs a little. Her skin quivered as her breathing sped up along with her heart rate. Her increased breathing made a “gahhh” sound in her throat when his tongue swiped down the front of her pussy. Using his fingers, he parted her hair, sliding his tongue gently inside. Such silken skin welcomed him, and her thighs parted wider for his access. Her musky scent drove him wild. He wanted to taste her everywhere at once. He found the hidden button, swiveled his tongue against it, back and forth, wiggling it. He sucked it into his mouth, suckling it much as he had her nipples, teasing the fleshy bit of skin with tongue and lightly with teeth. She went limp against the wall and him. Her legs shook, knees trembling. He heard her let loose a small sob. He braced her backwards, supporting her, as well as driving her crazy with his hand and mouth. One finger slid up, going into her channel with a slow, easy thrusting motion. It clenched tightly around the digit. She was so tight. Her hips bucked against him as he wriggled the finger. Her moisture rained down on his hand.
72
Mechele Armstrong
Thrusting into her tight body would be pure damn heaven. Or as close as he would ever come. Her thighs clenched together. She was so close to her orgasm. Time to bring her over the edge. He thrust a second finger inside the warmth of her pussy, while lapping at the bundle of nerves with his tongue. She exploded, her entire body quivering and shivering around him. Her keening sounds were so sexy. God, he wanted this woman. He wanted to wrap her around him forever and never let her go. Only after her body stopped shuddering did he withdraw his hands and face, looking up at this goddess, her skin flushed with her pleasures. Her eyes glittered like jewels, still glazed with passion. Her hair hung in tousled ringlets around her face. She panted, recovering from her climax. “Rojo ...” The curtain was yanked open. Nathan stood outside it with his fists clenched in an attack pose. They all blinked at each other. Crimson screeched. “Nathan, what are you doing in here?” “It’s been over twenty-five minutes, Red. I told you’d I’d come get you if you weren’t out.” He dropped his hands to his side, relaxing his stance. He still looked wary, but also amused. “I guess you were too busy to notice the time.” Rojo got up to his feet. His knees were soaked. They’d dry. Wet pants were well worth what had happened. He frowned at the long-haired blond man, standing there staring at them. He should have heard Nathan enter the locker room. No one had ever snuck up on him like this. The man must have silent feet. “You must be Rojo. I’m Nathan.” He tossed Crimson a towel. “I would shake your hand, but I can tell where it’s been.” “Shut up, Nathan.” Crimson growled, wrapping the big, fluffy, rose-colored towel around her. The woman did like roses. Good for him. Nathan’s eyes danced. “Rojo, why don’t we let Crimson get dressed? Has she mentioned dinner to you?” Rojo shook his head. “No. She hasn’t.” What kind of dinner could Nathan be talking about? It wasn’t like they could share a meal over the dining room table.
“Yes, I’d like another cup of B positive. Oh, and finish that with a chaser of O negative.” Some poor sap tied to the table, while they bled him like big leeches. He shook the idea off, snickering silently to himself. It was ludicrous.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
73
They probably got blood from blood banks. Not something he relished either, eating cold blood out of plastic. Nathan tsked at Crimson, clucking his tongue on his teeth. “Too busy to invite the man for supper. ’Course, I guess he was already eating ...” “Nathan!” Crimson emphasized his name. She didn’t blush, but did look annoyed. “Cut the crap. Can I go get dressed? You two better get out of here before some old biddy comes in and faints because she thinks I’m having a threesome.” “Sure.” Nathan clapped Rojo on the arm. “Lover boy and I will wait outside while you’re dressing.” Nathan wanted to talk to him without Crimson there. What would the man say to him? He’d expect something from Henri, but not from the man who all reports said was the gentle half of the pair. Crimson’s lips pursed, and she gave Nathan a look that said, “Please behave,” as her mouth said the same words. “Don’t I always?” His wry grin conveyed the opposite. She snorted, readjusting the towel. Rojo put his hand behind his back so he wouldn’t offer to help her. The temptation was great. If he touched her again, he’d be in the same spell as earlier. Only they’d have an audience, which was not how he wanted it. “It shouldn’t take me but a minute or two.” “Take your time.” Rojo looked at Nathan. “We’ll be fine.” Hopefully, they’d be fine. Nathan bobbed his head up and down. “We will be.” He winked. “I’ll fill him in on dinner plans.” Nathan and Rojo followed behind her. Nathan stopped at the bathroom door, which lay in between the showers and lockers. “What?” Crimson asked, her voice wary. He nodded to Rojo. “Wash your hands.” “What?” Rojo’s brow lifted in puzzlement. “You have Crimson jism on them.” Crimson’s rolled her eyes. “You have a one-track mind.” Rojo didn’t argue but washed his hands and dried them with a paper towel. Nathan smiled. “I like you.” He shook Rojo’s hand firmly and enthusiastically. Rojo didn’t know whether to be wary or thankful that Nathan liked him. “And yes, I do have a one-track mind. Think about who my lover is.” He winked. Ignoring comments she must hear all the time, Crimson supplied, “I’ll be out soon.” She ducked into the locker-room entrance from the showers.
74
Mechele Armstrong
“Dry your hair, Red. It’s chilly,” Nathan called across the room, exiting through the main entrance to the locker room. “You have fifteen minutes. And then I come in after you again.” A woman pushing open the door stopped short, staring at them. She looked back up to the door as if checking to see she was in the right place. “You’re in the right place.” Nathan held the door open to her. “We got confused.” He shook his thumb at Rojo. “He went in the shower before we realized. You were either two seconds too late or too early.” “With his clothes on?” She looked down at Rojo’s wet knees. “He’s a prude.” Rojo shook his head, braid slapping back and forth on his back. The woman pressed on into the locker room, the look on her face plainly saying she didn’t know how to take Nathan. Rojo had a feeling Nathan got that a lot. “I do get that a lot.” Rojo paused before he sat down on the plaid corduroy couch with scratchy, oversized pillows. The furnishings were all inexpensive. He’d owned that couch before at an old hotel room. He propped his feet up on the coffee table, which was scattered with old newspapers. “Can you read minds?” “No. But I get that enough to know what you were thinking.” “Ah.” He surveyed the man again, ticking off things about Nathan from the files Lang had given him. Not too much was known of Nathan before he’d become a vampire and hooked up with Henri. He’d been Henri’s lover for a while. It was presumed they were mates. Rojo didn’t think vampires could have mates. Love was something that screwed you over, used you, then tossed you aside like the garbage from yesterday. Rojo tempered a breath as he looked around the YMCA. The pool had closed; the facility was near closing time. It wasn’t that crowded tonight. “So ... we don’t have long before Crimson comes out. She’ll probably stop and blow-dry her hair because I’m here and will fuss if she doesn’t.” Nathan propped his feet up next to Rojo’s, leaning back on the couch, getting comfortable. “Nope, don’t have long.” Crimson would hurry like mad to get out here and “save” him from Nathan. Their time in the shower had been nothing shy of wonderful. His dick went from half hard to fully erect. He could still taste her as he swiped his tongue across his lips. “Henri has invited you for dinner. He wants to meet you.” “Does he now?”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
75
Nathan nodded. “He does. He’s sizing you up. You don’t play his way, he’ll make you pay.” Rojo had heard that about Henri Baptiste. “Who says I want to play his way?” “He’s Crimson’s mentor. He’s teaching her to be a vampire of his line.” Nathan crossed his feet on the coffee table, one foot shaking back and forth. The lights in the pool went off. “If you want her, which I’m guessing by what I interrupted in the shower, you do, then you’ll have to.” “I didn’t know Henri was her maker.” He did know who’d made her, it was in his files. But as it wasn’t common knowledge, and mentioning it would arouse suspicion. “Bastian De Luca made her.” Nathan’s feet still bounced along. “But Henri took over her training.” Bitterness edged Rojo’s voice. “My maker didn’t give me any training.” He swallowed it down, burning his throat. “Oh?” “Well, maybe that’s because I killed her.” Nathan’s foot stopped shaking. Rojo touched his fangs with his tongue, waiting to see what Nathan’s reaction would be to that. Vampires usually had one. “Rojo?” Rojo swiveled his head to look at Nathan. His blue eyes were stormy as he tossed his blond mane over his shoulder. “Yes?” “Henri will be ever the diplomat until you fuck with him. Then he’ll take you down. I’m not a diplomat. You hurt her, I’ll kill you.” Nathan’s voice was precise, enunciating each and every word. He held Nathan’s eyes as they stared each other down. Nathan didn’t flinch or blink and neither did he. No asking, “Do you understand?” or pretending to come to some conclusion. Nathan didn’t even do like most and ask why he’d killed his maker. Not that he ever told them the truth. Nathan would come after Rojo like a lion if he hurt Crimson. “What are you two doing?” They both looked up to see Crimson, dressed in jeans and a gray sweatshirt, ready to go. She’d even blow-dried her hair. Her scent drifted to Rojo. Her smell intoxicated him. And that red hair. Damn, he needed to run his fingers through that red silk. He’d bet it felt softer than anything. He’d never had much softness in his life. Even the women he’d been with had always been rough. Crimson continued, “Is this some male pissing contest?”
76
Mechele Armstrong
“Getting some things straight, Crimson.” Nathan shifted his weight and pulled his feet down. He and Rojo stood up at the same time. Rojo nodded. “Yep, that’s all, baby.” He leaned down to kiss her, ignoring Nathan watching them. When they arrived at the house, Nathan opened the door and yelled, “Guess who’s coming to dinner?” Rojo squared his shoulders. This was going to be an interesting meal.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
77
Chapter Nine Rojo put his hand on the small of Crimson’s back as they followed Nathan inside. She shouldn’t be this nervous, but she had a sense of being the Christians going before the lions, crucifixion soon to follow. Rojo had straightened up, looking even taller than usual, but otherwise had a collected expression on his face. She wanted to pinch him; he looked way too calm heading inside to the people she called family. Nathan took their coats to hang them up in a coat closet by the stairs. He even took Crimson’s, not making her hang it up herself like usual. Henri sat at the small table as she and Rojo filtered back into the kitchen. “Hello, you must be Rojo.” He stood up and proffered a hand, which Rojo shook. “I was hoping you’d make it to the house tonight. Why don’t we go into the dining room where we’d be more comfortable?” “I’m Rojo Rose.” Nothing confrontational about his gaze or body language. Her nerves coiled like a tight spring. “You’re Henri Baptiste. And we don’t have to do anything fancy. It’s comfortable here.” “Be glad I had him wash his hands,” Nathan muttered. He reached Henri’s side and kissed him gently before heading to the refrigerator. Crimson glared at him. “You wait. Next time you and Henri play touch the tonsils, I’m so giving you shit.” “I think I do not want to know what that’s about.” Henri shook his head at her and Nathan like they were squabbling children, which they usually were, so not an unusual thing. He turned his attention back to Rojo. “And oui. I am guilty as charged.”
78
Mechele Armstrong
“I imagined you bigger.” Rojo’s smile was harmless. They both seemed to be intent on putting the other at ease. It was an eloquent pissing contest. “From everything I’ve heard about you. You know, ten feet tall and breathing fire out your arse.” “He’s big where it counts.” Nathan’s teasing voice made Crimson roll her eyes at the quote from Braveheart. “More than ten. No fire, though. And I should know.” Henri’s chuckle at Rojo’s comment broke off to shake his head at Nathan. “When I was alive, I was a tall man. Now I am not. Changing times. Though you’d be tall in any era, Rojo.” Crimson had never considered it, but when Henri had lived, she’d bet he had been tall. People were getting so much taller than they used to be. But Rojo would be huge in any era. “Can I get you wine? Something to eat?” Henri clasped his hands together on the table, looking at them. So far so good. Henri hadn’t slapped Rojo around; he was being the good host. Crimson took a deep breath. Maybe awkward, but non-threatening was a good thing for this little gettogether. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how important Henri was to her. She’d always blown off the friendship he offered. The truth was, she’d never had a father, and Henri came closer than anyone else in her life to being one. She didn’t know how to be with a father figure. Bastian had never been a maker to her; he’d had Copper to deal with, having made Copper a vampire right after Crimson had been made. Henri had taken her under his wing, treating her as one of his own, and had been more patient with her than he had been with anyone. It was important to her that Rojo and Henri get along, not necessarily be best friends, but not fight. She closed her eyes for a second and then reopened them. She didn’t like wanting things from people, because they usually let her down. Her hands clenched by her side. It ticked her off. “I’ll take some wine, thank you.” Rojo chuckled before continuing, seeming to enjoy some private joke. “What, do you have a human somewhere to be a donor?” He leaned back against the counter, his long frame dwarfing the kitchen. She again fought the urge to pinch him for being so relaxed. Henri got up, grabbing a wine glass and heading for the bar. “No. We have bags of blood. Please make yourself comfortable. Have a seat.” Rojo shook his head. “Refrigerated plasma?” He made a face as if something tasted sour. “I like live donors.”
Uh-oh. Crimson sat down quickly in her usual chair. “We don’t have any human donors right now.” She didn’t know if they’d ever get them back, either. “It can be warmed up. The microwave.” Rojo took the seat next to Crimson. “So you drink blood from plastic bags? And nuke it? Do you ever grill it?”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
79
“We all take blood this way for now, though there have been humans before who’ve supplied us.” Henri set the wine glass in front of Rojo and eased into his chair across from him. Nathan sat beside Henri, a cup of chocolate milk in his hand. “We do have a grill. It came with the house. It makes us look more traditional.” He cackled at that. “Like three vampires are ever traditional.” Rojo’s face looked like it registered something. “You do live in the suburbs. I guess when in Rome ...” “Never much cared for the Romans. They were an arrogant lot.” Henri savored his sip of wine. “I can imagine.” “So do you kill, Rojo Rose?” She was glad she didn’t have anything in her mouth when Henri put forth the question. So much for putting each other at ease and exchanging pleasantries. Time for the interrogation to begin. At least her sister hadn’t come down yet to put her screws into Rojo. “I imagine you have looked up information on me. You tell me the answer to that.” Rojo sipped his wine, putting his other hand on Crimson’s thigh. Her inner thighs quivered at the contact. Her nervousness had glossed over any desire lingering from what they’d started back in the lockers. Her moisture slickened in the space between her thighs, reminding her of what had transpired. Would anyone notice? “It doesn’t matter, Henri. You know he’s not an animalistic vampire. He’s been around a while.” She put her hand over Rojo’s. This got into territory she didn’t care for. She shifted in her seat. Rojo’s nose twitched. She groaned, knowing what he’d scented. His hand tightened on her thigh. A casual look down, even in the dim light, revealed his cock was peeking up to say hello. Her fingers itched to reach over and cup him. But if she did, Nathan would notice. Not to mention, men couldn’t think past that little head when it was engaged. Rojo needed his wits about him to survive this encounter. Henri took a long drink of his wine. “I’m making conversation, Crimson. To find out all I need to know about your new friend.” He said “need to know,” not “want to know.” Rojo was being assessed. Those who wouldn’t convert to Henri’s thinking ... No, she wouldn’t think that way. Rojo smiled, a chilling smile not unlike ones she’d seen on snakes at a zoo. “As I said, I’m sure you already have information on me. Why don’t you tell me whether I kill or not?” “You kill only humans who you think deserve it.” Henri said the words so matter-offactly, it took a minute for them to sink in. “What?” She had never asked Rojo about his feeding habits. She’d known without asking that he hunted and killed humans. It hadn’t bothered her as much as it would bother
80
Mechele Armstrong
her sister, Bastian, and Henri. Not that she was too casual about taking human lives. Despite the blood lust that the animal who lived inside her set forth, she didn’t desire to kill anyone and never had. But she couldn’t condemn any vampire for killing, either. Blood lust was a hard thing to conquer. This scenario with Rojo had never occurred to her, that he’d hunt those who he believed deserved to die. Rojo shrugged, his large shoulders going up and down. His hand shifted on her leg. “Mostly.” “You know you are not the judge or jury. You will never find humans who will be worthy prey for you. You will always win. There’s no game in that.” “That last man I hunted killed more people than I’ve ever dreamed of. For dollars and diamonds. Not for food.” Rojo locked eyes with Henri. “I can’t imagine someone better to be my meal than him. So did you stop hunting because of that? I thought it was some noble ideas about humans.” “The nobility came much later.” She stared at the table. She’d always had a feeling that Henri had been a wicked vampire before he’d changed ideals. More proof of that in what he was saying. She squeezed Rojo’s hand. “So you only kill bad people?” Not the best terms to couch it in, but the best ones she had. “Does it matter? I still kill.” His eyes took on a hard glint. “I’m sure it doesn’t matter to your friends.” There were several ways she could answer. But many of them would send him on his way quicker than others. Did it matter to her? She shrugged. “I’m not my friends. I believe you when you say you only hunt humans you feel deserve to die. And as long as you aren’t killing me ...” As soon as the words left her mouth, she winced. That was too close to all her worries. He didn’t know about the dreams, and she didn’t want him to. She hadn’t yet digested possibly having the gift of foresight. Before Rojo could react, Copper wandered into the kitchen. “Hi, sis.” Crimson swallowed, her throat tight and constricted. The dreams did this to her. No, she couldn’t do this now, no panic attacks. Not with the attack dog about to come out. Copper would go after Rojo with everything she could.
What’s wrong? Why are you so upset. Who’s that beside you? Copper’s voice rushed through her mind. She sensed the worry and concern emanating from Copper.
I’m OK. It’s Rojo. Oh, really? She didn’t like her sister’s tone one bit. Copper ...
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
81
Copper ignored her hails. She couldn’t reopen the connection because Copper had blocked her. Dammit. Why couldn’t she keep up her shield enough to keep her sister out of her head like that? “Good afternoon, Copper. Is Bastian still sleeping? This is Rojo Rose, Crimson’s friend.” Henri waved a hand in Rojo’s direction. “Oh, I’d say more than friends.” Nathan polished off his chocolate milk and got up. “Can I get you something, Copper?” He gave Henri a quiet kiss. “No, Nathan, I’m fine. Yes, Bastian is still sleeping.” “I’m going to go in the other room. Copper, you can have my seat.” Nathan headed into the living room. Sex and the City repeats were on cable. He rarely missed them and didn’t like to watch grilling, which was sure to happen with Copper seeing a new friend of hers. Copper sat down, her eyes turning to Rojo, a fake-looking Barbie smile on her face. “So you’re Rojo. I haven’t heard nearly enough about you from my sister. Funny how close we are, and she’s hardly mentioned you at all.” She tapped her foot on the floor. She didn’t talk to her sister about every little thing, and Copper knew that. She’d exaggerated for effect. Rojo squeezed her knee under the table, his fingers straying to stroke upwards on her thigh, which tingled even through jeans. “Nice to meet you, Copper.” Copper pursed her lips together. “What are you doing with my sister?” A swoosh of air shot through her lungs, sending out a breath along with her patience. The question ignited her temper. Copper believed the only reason he was with Crimson was because something was going on. Even if Crimson had her own doubts, Copper had no right to voice them to Rojo. “So I can’t get a man unless something’s wrong or going on?” Her voice came out highpitched and whiny, not the way she should be projecting. She cleared her throat, trying to lower her tone to her normal alto. “I didn’t say that, sis.” Copper leaned back in her chair, a smug expression on her face. “Don’t read behind my words.” “It was implied by what you asked.” She gritted her teeth to keep this civil. Henri’s face was as calm as still waters. “Copper, Rojo and I were chatting about life. Crimson’s his friend. She can be friends with anyone she likes. She doesn’t need anyone’s permission.” “Henri.” Copper shook back the hair that was so like her own. “You’re such a diplomat. I’m her sister; I don’t have time for that. And we both know the decisions Crimson has made in the past. I refuse to sit by this time and let her make the same mistakes. Again. I will not lose her.” She closed her eyes briefly and then opened them. Different day, same argument. “Can we talk about this later? Look, it’s been a while since I’ve ...”
82
Mechele Armstrong
“Paris.” Copper snapped the words. “Do I have to remind you of Paris? You made such a good friend. Who only wanted to seduce you. Then you freaked out and almost killed her. And created a media feeding frenzy.”
I hate you. She broadcasted it so loudly, everyone in the kitchen probably heard it. She hadn’t wanted Rojo to find out about Paris this way. “Copper, Belle was a special circumstance. You can’t fault Crimson for all of what happened.” Calm yourself. Two words to her from Henri. She sought a measure of control. Her heart pounded in her chest. Could they hear it? Tell her to calm down. She breathed heavily through her nose. Rojo stroked her leg. Her hand trembled on top of his. He murmured low and close to her head, “Do we need to go? Should I go?”
I did tell Copper to calm down, too. Henri’s eyes met her own. I do not blame you for Belle. I hired her, I should have known she was a publicity hound. “Tell him, Crim. Tell Rojo how you made a friend. How she tried to seduce you while you fed, and you freaked out, almost killing her. And don’t you blame her, Henri?” Copper put her hand on the table to tap fingers. “You’d still be in Paris -- your home for how many years? -- if it weren’t for that incident.” “I ...” She licked her dry lips, moistening them. Then she plunged ahead. Why shouldn’t she tell Rojo? He knew something had happened. And she didn’t have anything to hide from him. Now Copper, she could kick her ass for bringing it up. “I took blood from Belle. She was human, a donor of ours. But I never wanted more than blood. She knew that. She tried to make me ... Belle sold her story to the tabloids. She’d planned to all along. It made me out as a freak.” Belle had sold the story to the same tabloids that bought Bigfoot and alien stories. But the lesbian vampire angle had spread it like wildfire. The popularity of vampire literature had carried a back-page story to some reports in major newspapers. It had blown Henri’s low profile. Belle had planned the seduction and sell-out for months. But after Evangeline had forced sexual stuff on Crimson, she hadn’t been in a place to accept it from Belle. They’d had to leave Paris because of it. But Henri had never made her feel bad. Belle had been looking for easy money and found it. “Copper.” Henri’s voice came out evenly. “If I blamed your sister for Belle, she’d be dead. So obviously, I don’t.” “I’m thankful you didn’t kill her. Because all I thought about when the call came was that I’d lose my sister. For good this time.” Emotion shadowed Copper’s face, her voice laced with emotion. Copper had enough blame for all of them. The events with Evangeline, when the vampiress had killed her, had made Copper overprotective of her. And it bit. She didn’t
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
83
know how to deal with this parental side of her twin. Except for blowing it off, and that hadn’t been working. “But you didn’t. I’m right here.” But you’re about to lose me now. “She’s got a point, Copper.” Rojo leaned forward with a shrug, his thumb rubbing up and down on the underside of her thigh as if to say it was OK. “So this Belle was a meal ticket? How come you didn’t sense all this?” “Oui.” Henri nodded his head, taking another sip of his wine. “She was one of my human servants. I should have been more careful hiring her. She’d planned for months to sell us out to the press, with Crimson’s lesbian blood-taking habits the centerpiece. I don’t read humans unless I have permission.” “Maybe you should.” Henri tensed, but didn’t respond. He’d blamed himself for what happened, but still didn’t want to barge into humans’ minds without their consent. She’d bet he hadn’t read Rojo’s mind either. Henri had a lot of nobility. He lived by his own code. In a way, so did Rojo. “So someone Henri trusted took advantage of Crimson, and yet you blame Crimson for the mistake, Copper?” Rojo’s eyes were stormy. His fingers bit into her leg. Copper sucked in a large gush of air. “I’ve never chewed on anyone. Or put anyone in the hospital.” Crimson’s hand clutched the chair tightly with her effort not to speak, because obscenities would fly out. Henri said to count to twenty, then respond. Damn hard to do. “Bully for you. But not all of us are model vampires at our creation. Some of us take time to build.” Her hand froze on Rojo’s. Had he defended her? She backed up the words in her mind. He had taken her side against her sister. She leveled her head, staring at Copper. “And some of us get the choice to be made a vampire. Have time to prepare ourselves for the change. Instead of it being a surprise.” Unlike Copper and Sarah, who’d both had a little time to adjust to being turned, Crimson had been made to save her life. She’d been dying, she couldn’t OK the change. Not that she minded much; the alternative was being dead. But the jolt of being a vampire had been hard to deal with, especially at first. “You were dying. It had to be done.” Copper pursed her lips together tightly. “Still was one hell of a shock.” Copper’s green eyes were steely as she glanced over at Rojo and changed topics. “I don’t want to see her hurt again, or even worse. I never spoke up before, but I won’t lose her over another mistake that I can prevent.” “Her mistakes are her own.” Henri spoke right as Crimson said, “My mistakes are my own.”
84
Mechele Armstrong
They looked at each other. Henri’s eyes twinkled. “So my lessons do make an impression. Sometimes I wonder if I affect anyone but Nathan.” His look of pride made her smile. “Rojo, you never did answer my question. What do you want from my sister?” Copper’s lips narrowed into thin lines. Rojo’s mouth tweaked up into a grin. “I want to fuck her.” Henri took his last sip of wine with a sigh. Crimson laughed at her sister’s incredulous face. “That works for me. Right here, right now?” Bastian laughed, too, from the doorway. “Dinner and a show tonight? What did I miss?” “Oh, yes, laugh it up.” Copper banged her hand on the table. “Crimson, I think you need to rethink this so-called friendship ...” The anguish on her sister’s face made her bite back her retort. Copper loved her and was seeking to protect her. And she’d caused Copper great pain in the past. But she couldn’t put her life on hold because of her sister’s concerns. Not when she’d finally started to live again. She wouldn’t do that. “More than friendship.” Nathan’s voice sounded over the TV in the other room where he must have been eavesdropping. “It’s more than friendship, people.” “... because if it were up to me, I’d kick Rojo and his cock to the curb. But I’m not thinking with my pussy. Or as a friend. Or as a goddamn mentor who should know better.” She stumbled to her feet. “I’m thinking as someone who loves you and watched you die.” Crimson winced at her sister’s scratchy voice and blotchy face. “All because you made a bad choice.” Copper tossed down her napkin and stalked out of the room. Bastian moved to follow her, but Henri held up a hand. “I’ll go. I need to talk to her.” He nodded to Crimson to stay and hurried out of the room after Copper. Bastian offered his hand to Rojo. “Rojo, I’m Bastian.” Rojo shook his hand tightly. He put his hand back on Crimson’s leg. “So that went well, don’t you think?” She leaned into Rojo, letting his warmth invade her cold bones. “Oh, yeah, it went peachy keen.” Not that Copper didn’t have reason to, but how would she ever reconcile with a sister who was determined to smother her?
***** Copper sat in the armchair in their bedroom, scrubbing furiously at her eyes. Damn, she hated to cry. The light knock hardly surprised her. “Come in, Bastian. It’s your room, too.” He tried to blow off everything where Crimson was concerned, saying she was a grown woman and
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
85
could take care of it herself. He put too much stock in Henri’s care of her sister. She liked Bastian’s maker, but Henri had some blinders on where Crimson was concerned. The door pushed open. “It’s not Bastian, Copper.” Think of the devil. She bunched her legs up under her as Henri shut the door behind him and trod to where she was. He knelt down in front of her, sitting silently on the floor. She swallowed all her tears and spit, waiting for him to say something, say anything. But he remained kneeling in silence. The clock ticked on the night table. Murmurings mumbled from downstairs. The light noises frayed her already worn nerves. She burst open with the rants she’d said to herself all the way up the stairs. “She has no business seeing anyone, Henri. Paris wasn’t that long ago. You know she has no business seeing this Rojo.” He leaned back a little to scrutinize her. She didn’t flinch under his gaze. “I know your sister is a grown woman. No one can control her. Guide her, yes. But not tell her what she can and can’t do.” “That’s bullshit. How close did you come to killing her in Paris?” When she’d heard about what had happened, she’d thought she’d lose her sister again. Surely Henri would kill Crimson for what she’d done. But he hadn’t. He’d moved to Denver with hardly a word or the bat of an eye. “Not that close. I should have watched the signs and intervened earlier than I did. I didn’t read Belle’s mind because I don’t invade a human’s mind unless necessary. She came with excellent referrals from other vamps. But Belle used Crimson, Copper. And she pushed her at a time when she wasn’t ready.” “Yeah. Used her. Exactly like Rojo’s going to do. Hell, what’s a name like Rojo anyway?” She tensed her body, sitting straight up in the chair. “It’s Spanish. For the color red.” “His name is Red Rose? Oh, give me a fucking break.” She threw up her hands. “I know that makes Crimson that much more blind to what he is. Her and her damn roses.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re on his side.” She couldn’t believe this. Mentors were supposed to protect their charges. Not toss them to the roses. “The only side I’m on is Crimson’s.” He sat down on the floor cross-legged. Only Henri would take the lower position and still look superior. “When your mother used to punish Crimson, when she said there were boys Crimson couldn’t see or things she couldn’t do, how did she react?” She hesitated, wiggling her toes into the soft chair. “She would go out of her way to see them. Or do what was forbidden. I don’t see why this is relevant.” “Because if I forbid anything, she’ll react the same way. And go more after Rojo than she intends to right now.” Henri rubbed the back of his neck. “Copper, you don’t give your sister enough credit.”
86
Mechele Armstrong
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Her brow furrowed as she stared Henri down. Who the hell did he think he was, telling her about her own sister? “I mean, she’s got more together than you think.” Her voice rose, and it shook inside her mouth. “Maybe that’s because I’ve known her longer. And I’ve watched her walk down paths I knew would bring her nothing but heartache. I stood by. I didn’t try hard enough to stop her from making the choices that fucked her up. That killed her.” She shook her head back and forth. “No more. I won’t stand by and let her walk down the wrong paths. I won’t lose her again. I can’t.” “Did you ever wonder why she went down the paths she did? Why she did those things?” “Hell, yes. But I think there’s a part of Crimson that’s wired to seek out hurt, misery, and pain.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue. When had she become so vitriolic? But she had never understood those things in Crimson’s life. And the events of the last few years had pushed her protectiveness. Seeing Crimson hurting, watching her die, she could no more stop trying to shield her twin from pain than she could stop breathing. She refused to lose her again. It had been a miracle Bastian could make her into a vampire. There were no more miracles to be had. “Non, ma fille.” Henri took her hands in his. “Listen to me, Copper.” “I’m listening.” “Not only with your ears. I want you to hear this with your mind and heart.” She gritted her teeth in impatience. “I will.” “Crimson may never be at a point to tell you this. I never promised her I’d keep it a secret. And you need to know it.” He stroked one hand with his thumb. “Crimson was sexually abused several times by your mother’s boyfriends.” “What?” She tore her hands out of Henri’s. “You’re so wrong. There’s no way. No fucking way.” “It happened, Copper. Your mother knew and never stopped it.” “Crimson told you that? That Mom knew? This is bullshit.” She got up, stepped over Henri, and paced her room. “This is psychobabble, sicko shit.” The words rushed out of her, while inside, she crumbled. No, this couldn’t be. It made Crimson’s actions make so much sense. But the sick feeling that their mom would know something like this and not stop it made her want to scream. Why would their mother do this? Her breathing blew heavily from her lungs. No wonder Crimson had hated their mother so much. And even saying the words out loud, in her heart, she knew the truth was the abuse that their mom had allowed had messed Crimson up. Her eyes filled with tears for the teenage girl Crimson had apparently never been allowed to be. He pushed up to his feet to sit in the vacated chair. “I’m not blaming your mother. What Crimson did was her own. But she did feel betrayed by a mother who allowed this to
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
87
happen. Crimson’s felt like everyone she’s ever loved has betrayed her. She’s looked for love down many wrong alleys, trying to find someone who won’t betray her.” “I never betrayed her,” she snarled. Or had she? Could she have done more to protect the person she’d been closest to in the world back when they were teens? “You went back to care for your mother. When she was dying.” Her hands slid down to her waist as her body sagged. She hugged herself tight. She’d never understood Crimson’s anger at her going back or how vehemently she’d talked about their mother. “I’m not excusing what Crimson has done or had problems with in the past. And she takes responsibility for those things.” He sat more forward on the chair. It creaked under his weight. “But I want you to understand -- the control and the pain that Crimson has always sought with her actions are driven by things in the past. Some she’s not been conscious of.” “Why didn’t she tell me?” Copper’s eyes overflowed with the tears she could no longer contain. “Why didn’t she ever share what was going on with me? Maybe I could have stopped it. Maybe I could have helped her.” Pain for her sister and what she’d been through overwhelmed her. She’d been through so much hell. Damn those men. And damn their mother, too. “Because Crimson considered herself your protector. She kept you safe from the men who did these things. She also felt your naivety was a part of your perfection. Like a version of herself who wasn’t jaded.” “What Evangeline did to her ...” “It affected her. But it didn’t break her. She’s a strong woman who’s coming into her own as a vampire.” “How ... how do you know all this?” She turned to face him. He still sat forward on the chair like he’d spring off of it at any minute. Henri let loose a lazy, fat smile. “I’ve been in her mind. I’ve needed to know that she’s not a vampire I need to take out. And I’ve needed to know how to help her. She gave me permission long ago to do whatever it takes to make her into a stable vampire.” She trembled, rubbing her arms. Thank God her sister wanted to live, wanted to be a stable vampire. “So you think we have to let her be friends with this Rojo.” “We will not alienate Crimson. If Rojo’s bad, she’ll figure it out on her own soon enough.” “He could hurt her.” She licked her chapped lips. Weather here was so different than in Italy. Life here was so different than Italy. “You looked him up, what did you find out?” “That Rojo is a complex being who can be dangerous. I will be keeping my eye on this situation.” He tilted his head to the side. “You know my mantra with new-to-me vampires?” “If they kill, you spill.”
88
Mechele Armstrong
Henri nodded. “He kills, but only those who are evil humans. It doesn’t make it right. But there is a code to Rojo Rose.” “If he hurts her ...” She put her hands to her mouth. “There’ll be a line to whup his ass.” She started and then laughed. She’d never imagined that phrase from Henri. “I can’t believe you said that.” He chuckled. “I do learn some things from that horrid television Nathan makes me watch.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
89
Chapter Ten Copper sauntered back into the kitchen. She sat down quietly by Bastian, who murmured things to her, wrapping an arm around her. Her face had pinched up, looking drawn, but she said little more. She barely glanced at Rojo. Crimson’s mouth furrowed into a frown. She’d expected more attack from Copper when she’d come back, instead of this subdued wan look. What had Henri said to her? It didn’t matter, as long as it helped things. One thing she’d never wanted to lose was Copper. But things had been so hard the past few years. “Oh, Crimson, I forgot to tell you.” Bastian snapped his fingers, got up, and walked to the island. He grabbed a piece of folded paper. “They called to remind you of your appointment. Said for you to be on time.” He handed it to her. She took the paper, unfolding it. Dragon’s Tattoo Parlor and the number. “Oh, yeah, time for my new tattoo.” In all the excitement, she’d forgotten she’d scheduled it. She had three already -- a rose on her ankle, one on her stomach by her belly button, and one above her butt, each of varying sizes. She planned to get a rose on her right shoulder blade, which would connect to the roses on her lower back. “Another rose?” Henri yawned, taking back his seat after a visit to Nathan. Crimson was surprised he’d come back. Neither was known for their restraint around each other. Of course, Henri was playing watch-vamp. She nodded, tapping the paper against her hand. “The appointment is tonight. I have to head on over now.” “You must like tattoos.” Rojo’s face studied hers. He had a cleft in his chin. The indentation gave his face even more character than it had already. Had she been an artist, she would have sketched him over and over again. He’d have become her favorite subject. It
90
Mechele Armstrong
would probably be the only way she’d keep him forever. She’d enjoy him to the fullest while it lasted and hope it didn’t cost her her existence when it ended. “I have three.” She smiled a tiny smile. Why did she feel a little timid telling him? Probably because each tattoo was so personal to her. She’d had the one on her ankle before she became a vampire. It had been when she’d left home, going to Saint Louis to live. Her first foray into being an adult. The others had come at crucial times as she struggled to focus on her vampire skills. This one would be the foresight tattoo. At least she had a gift, even if it sucked. She’d have to work on figuring out how to use the damn thing. “I have one.” “You do?” Somehow that surprised her. She hadn’t seen Rojo as a tattoo type. Maybe at first, checking out his exterior. But after getting to know him, he didn’t seem the kind to inflict pain for a picture on his skin. Rojo pointed with his index finger to his back. “What do you have?” Henri interjected. His eyes looked so golden and serene. He had such a balance between his vampire and human side. How many years had that taken? She’d guess plenty. And it would take her double that. “A dragon. On my shoulder.” “That’s where I’m getting my new one. My shoulder.” Copper stood up, pushing her chair back. “I’m going to go watch TV with Nathan.” She stalked over to Crimson and Rojo and hugged Crimson so tightly, it choked her. “Have fun. And be careful.” “Always, sis.” Crimson hugged her back, embracing the viselike grip. “Always.” Henri must have outdone himself. But would Copper be back to parenting tomorrow? She sighed. Had she gained back her sister without the babysitter attitude? “Good to meet you, Rojo.” Bastian shook his hand before following Copper into the living room. Copper hadn’t spoken to Rojo. Not good. But she hadn’t ordered him away from her, so Crimson would take what she could get. “Are they doing the whole tattoo tonight?” Rojo brushed her leg with his, the contact sending shivers up and down her spine. She wanted to see that dragon tattoo. Watch it roll with the muscles of his shoulders. One day, those corded legs would intertwine with hers, moving them together. If Nathan hadn’t interrupted, would he have taken her against the shower wall? Her clit tingled, and her pussy moistened. Yes, he would have. He’d have made her body sing in the shower. Probably opera, or something soprano. Rojo’s arm tensed on the back of her chair where he’d rested it while she’d hugged Copper, she could feel the energy pulsing from his arm as it rubbed against her neck. His long fingers drifted along her shoulder to clasp her neck in the center of his hand. She twirled her neck around at the comment.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
91
“As much as they can. I’m there until they close. Would you ... maybe like to go with me?” She rolled her inner eyes at how teenagerish that sounded. Rojo’s white teeth shone against his lips with his smile. When he smiled, he looked so delectable. “Sure.” They both got up as Henri spoke. “Rojo, I hope you understand there’s some shit going on with Crimson that’s bad. Someone is after her. Normally, I would trust her out alone or with you. But not right now.” “I understand.” Rojo’s head straightened as he looked Henri in the eye. “I want Nathan to go along with you two.” “Henri.” Crimson’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like being accompanied everywhere she went. Henri knew that. No matter how much of a badass Lang was, she could take care of herself. She’d worked hard to gain her freedom back and enjoyed each moment of it. It was a hard thing for her to lose. She gritted her teeth. “It must be, Crimson.” His firm tone left no room for argument. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. “I can handle this on my own. I don’t need Nathan to baby-sit me.” Rojo reached to caress her knuckles. “It’s OK. They care about you.” His face registered shock at what he had said. He quickly removed his hand, staring away from her with a look on his face she couldn’t read. Nathan scratched at his stomach as he sauntered into the kitchen. “I’m elected to go with her?” “Yes.” Henri moved up to him, so that their bodies barely touched. Nathan gulped, his reaction obvious and instantaneous, as Henri ran a hand through his hair. His hand lingered to touch slowly, to stroke the long blond locks down to skin below. “I’ll pay you back for your troubles later.” Nathan swallowed, puffing out a light breath of air. His eyes darkened. The tension between them took over the room. “I’ll look forward to it.” He turned his face down as Henri kissed him hungrily. She turned away from the lovers’ embrace to Rojo to find his eyes hungry, like Henri’s kiss. The rush of current that flowed between them snapped along every neuron she had. Her mouth turned into the Sahara, while between her legs, she gushed like Niagara. She couldn’t push out any speech. All she could do was stare into Rojo’s deep hazel eyes, which looked so brown right now with gold edges rimming them. He closed his lids, his lashes flowing down in one long motion. When they opened, there was no less desire in his eyes than before they’d shut. In fact, it had increased. A promise was reflected there, the promise of soon. And every cell in her body agreed. She could barely stop her torso from going up and down in a full body nod of acquiescence.
92
Mechele Armstrong
Nathan looked dazed as Henri completed the kiss. “I’ll hurry back.” His voice came hoarse and throaty. “Come on, we need to get moving.” He slapped his hands together. Henri took one last touch, stroking his hand down Nathan’s face. “I’ll be here. You look after Crimson.”
***** Their arrival at Dragon’s Tattoo Parlor wasn’t eventful. Rojo was happy to have his balls and dick intact after meeting with Crimson’s family in the one room that contained all the knives and, even worse, spoons. Spoons would hurt more when cutting off valuable body parts. She’d looked so wary about inviting him to come with her and relieved when he’d agreed. The tattoo place looked like a graffiti-slathered dive from the outside, but was incredibly clean on the inside. Dragon was a tall, thin man who had several tattoos and piercings. He did those as well as tattoos. “So you want this tattoo to meet the one above your butt?” Dragon worked on getting set up, gathering his instruments. “Yep, sort of like roses climbing up a trellis.” “Who’s staying back with you? Both these guys?” “I’m going to wait out front. I don’t need to see you get the tattoo.” Nathan shook his hair back. Rojo stepped across to stand by Crimson. “I think I’ll wait back here with her.” The surge of protectiveness with the words caught him off guard. He meant what he said; he wasn’t playing her or Nathan. He didn’t like Nathan leaving her by herself when he was supposed to look after her. It was an unreasonable snap of emotion. Nathan would be nearby in the waiting area; he could probably still see everything that went on. Rojo frowned. He didn’t know what he was going to do about all this. This was a mistake, spending time with her. But like a moth to the flame, he couldn’t stay away. Would the passion or Lang get to him first? Her smile blinded him with a radiance unknown even by the sun. “That would be great, Rojo.” Oh, yeah, he’d stay for this tattoo. Nathan cast them a bored look. “This place doesn’t have a back door. And the windows are barred. The only way in or out will be through me. Ciao.” Rojo’s frown maneuvered up. He’d noticed all that. But damn if he’d expected Nathan to. There was more to Nathan than rumor had it, that was for sure. Dragon didn’t bat an eye or ask questions.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
93
Nathan turned to Dragon. “And if you hurry, I’ll give you a big tip.” He winked at Rojo and Crimson. He was looking forward to going home to his lover. Henri had made clear what would happen when Nathan came back. Rojo’s eyes met Crimson’s. What would that be like? To have a lover play with you in fun? To always have them be there when you got home? Not anything he’d ever imagined. Dragon’s face didn’t change. Did he ever smile? “It takes what it takes. I’d guess about three hours, maybe a little less.” Nathan sighed. “Three hours. Geesh.” He turned and walked to the front, mumbling something about needing chocolate. Dragon tossed her some cloth. “Here’s a wrap. Put that on, and I’ll get you set up.” He indicated a little room with a curtain off to the side. Crimson went to change in the makeshift dressing room that doubled as the bathroom. Rojo tried not to think about her being merely a curtain away, slipping into something he’d want to take off. He seemed to find himself in this situation a lot. “So, Rojo, do you have any tattoos? Want one?” Dragon continued to ready himself. He took a lot of time with the instruments and getting together the colors. She’d picked an artist who took his work seriously. “I do have one. What kinds of tattoos do you do?” Some pictures of them hung on the wall. “Any kind.” Dragon pointed, indicating a large photo album. Rojo picked it up and started flipping through. No names, but pictures of all the tattoos Dragon had done. He recognized the one from Crimson’s belly button and also the one from above her butt. There were some colorful, intricate tattoos in the book. She must have gotten her ankle tat before coming to Denver, since it wasn’t in there. “You do good work.” Rojo set down the book after a few minutes. “Thanks, man. What tattoo do you have, anyway?” Rojo turned to look at the artwork hanging beside the tattoos. Were those Dragon’s, too? “I have a winding dragon on my back and shoulder.” “A dragon? I’d like to take a look at it, if you don’t mind. Who gave it to you? I’m always on the lookout for new designs, especially dragons.” “Take a look at what?” Crimson pulled open the curtain and stepped out. The green wrap-around suited her perfectly, accentuating her eyes, tousled hair, and that pale skin. She had a few freckles on her shoulders. So much to trace on the woman. His tongue would taste every contour. “His tattoo.” Dragon folded his arms across his chest. “Have you seen it?” “Me? No. No, I haven’t.” She licked her lips, her pink tongue caressing the skin with the tip. So much for her to trace on him. His dick throbbed, wanting that tongue to partake.
94
Mechele Armstrong
His hard-on had become permanent whenever he was in her presence, especially when thinking about her undressing a few mere feet away. She wanted to see his tattoo. His dick pushed against the front of his pants, straining for outage. His blood hummed throughout his body, rushing through his ears.
I want to see it. I know. They both had stunned expressions at their mind talking, but didn’t say anything out loud. They had a human present. He shrugged, pulling his shirt over his head. “Here you go.” He turned, showing off his back. A long black and red dragon twisted its way down the right side of his back. Dragon whistled. “Wow. Very intricate.” “It’s beautiful, Rojo.” Crimson’s low voice made him spread his legs wider. It strummed along his veins. Damn, but he wanted her. “It took you a while to get that one done.” Dragon sounded impressed. “I guess you don’t have a problem with pain. Or seeing this done. Can I take a picture?” “It took a while. And no.” A human had done it a few years prior. He hadn’t answered who’d done it earlier because the man was more than likely dead. He’d been old when he’d done the tattoo. Rojo didn’t want to let another tattoo artist take the old man’s hard work. It had taken several hours to get the tattoo imprinted. Of course, considering what he now knew about tattoos, it was a good thing he’d been a vamp at the time. He was unable to get blood-borne diseases, meaning the less than sanitary conditions hadn’t affected him. “Sure, man. No problem. All right, Crimson, you ready?” Dragon turned his attention to her, taking Rojo’s answer in stride. “I sure am.” Her eyes sparkled. The shadow that haunted her eyes, that he’d only seen dropped a couple of times, had vanished. Her eyes were sprinkled with life, making them even more shimmery. “It’s going to be pretty.”
Not as pretty as you. The skin on her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink, lasting the whole time she filled out the paperwork. “You remember the procedure?” Crimson nodded, lying down on the bench as Dragon settled in beside her on a stool. “Ask anytime for a break, if you need one. I’d rather have you do that than faint. We won’t go over three hours, but I think I’ll be finished by then.” “I will, but I doubt I’ll need a break.” Dragon slipped down the wrap so that Crimson’s back was exposed. “If this is like the lower one you did already, a piece of cake. Unlike my ankle. Now that did hurt like son of a bitch.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
95
Her pale back gleamed under the lamps. Rojo had the urge to run his tongue up and down her spine. He’d kiss away every hurt that Dragon inflicted. That would be a wonderful way to spend some time while he decided what to do. “Ankles do hurt. They’re close to the bone.” Dragon cleaned her upper back, the acrid scent of alcohol burning Rojo’s nose. He pulled something out of a machine that resembled a fax machine. “What’s that?” Rojo looked on curiously. “The machine is a thermal fax. It makes a stencil on thermal paper so I can put that directly on her back.” When Rojo had gotten his tattoo, they’d had to draw it. Using a stick of deodorant, Dragon applied the stencil. When he pulled it away, it left a blue copy of the tattoo on Crimson’s skin. Dragon readied his tools, putting some ointment over the stencil. Rojo didn’t know the names of most of the tools. Dragon started. “Don’t pass out on me, Crimson.” The outline of the tattoo hurt the most for most people, the coloration not usually as much. Her hand clenched at her side. Rojo sat down by her on another stool. He needed to be close, slipping his hand in hers. She hesitated, taking it lightly, as if she might hurt him, and he squeezed it.
Hold it. You won’t hurt me. Intertwining their fingers, she let out a sigh, clenching his hand tightly in hers. Rojo held her hand for the duration of the tattoo. It confused him, the wrench in his chest this woman caused. No one had ever gotten to him like this. Why her? And why now? Delivering her to Lange was getting hard to think about. Only he would have this cursed luck. He looked at her on the table, imagining her under his body, scouring his back with her nails, screaming her pleasure. He’d take her over the brink again and again. He was cursed and blessed.
***** Crimson yawned as the tattoo was finished. It hadn’t been that painful, much like the last one she’d gotten. Dragon’s voice came from behind her. “It looks good. Whatcha think, Rojo?” “Nice.” He let go of her hand, having held it the entire time she’d been under the needle. She ignored the sudden feeling of loss. It had been his hand, nothing more. No reason to feel that way. But she did, no matter how hard she denied it.
96
Mechele Armstrong
Dragon helped her look in mirror to see her now-connected tattoos. “It’s beautiful.” She loved how it intertwined like a rose vine branching up her back. She turned to face them. “Thank you.” Had he been anyone but Dragon, she might have shook his hand or something. But Dragon never smiled, never encouraged anything friendly. He got the most enthused about tattoos. Dragon snapped a picture, put on protective ointment and then bandaged it. “You can change back. How are you paying?” Dragon and Rojo helped her off the table. “It might be a little sore. Same basic care as your last ones. I have the sheet ready for you to take.” She handed Dragon her card to run through. “OK. I can handle that.” She puttered around them, heading for the changing room. Odd, but she didn’t want the night to end. Going home meant separating from Rojo. Or maybe it didn’t. What to do? How did vampires date? Not something she’d ever asked Henri. Dragon banged something around. “I’m going to get everything cleaned up.” She pulled the curtain shut. Dropping the wrap, she winced at the pull of the sore skin. The curtain rustled softly behind her. She turned. “What are you doing in here?” Somehow she wasn’t surprised. Rojo reached down to pick up her bra. “Helping.” He motioned for her to hold out her arms. “Aren’t you supposed to work to get the girl out of her clothes? Isn’t this backwards?” He chuckled, the sound moving his chest up and down. “Usually.” The straps went up her arms. “Are you going to be able to wear this?” “I think so.” A gasp escaped when the material hit her shoulder. Instantly, he pulled it down and off. “You don’t need to wear it.” “Probably not.” She sighed. “Not like some people, anyway.” She had a fair amount on top. But Copper was bustier. That had caused quite an amount of angst when they’d been thirteen and the hormones had been raging. His hands moved upwards before she could move. They cupped the underside of her breasts, holding them in his palms. She looked down, the dark skin accentuating her own fairness. “You have perfect tits. They’re beautiful. Fit nicely in my hands.” Oh, yeah, they did. Her breathing quickened along with her pulse. The tips of her nipples jutted out like hard pins, stabbing into his fingers. “Thanks.” It didn’t seem enough, but nothing else would come. It sounded like she’d run uphill. He dropped his hands and picked up her shirt. “Welcome” “Not going to, ermmm ... continue fitting them nicely?”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
97
His grin took her aback. He looked so boyish; she’d never seen him like that. “I don’t want to get caught again. Have to wash my hands.” Then his eyes smoldered. “Next time, no interruptions.” The look he gave her would have melted the polar ice caps into steam. It turned her insides to jelly. Holy moly. And the promise he’d made earlier with his eyes, he’d reiterated. It was only a matter of time before they had sex. And she couldn’t wait. “Turn around before you put on the shirt. Let me look at the tattoos up close.” “OK.” Her heart tangoed a beat in her chest as she spun around. He quieted for a minute. Then she felt his mouth as he kissed around the tattoo. Tiny interspersed kisses all around where she hurt. “It’s lovely.” He finished up, pulling back, and she turned to face him. He held up her shirt in his hands, and she slid into it. “Hurt?” “Not too bad. I’ve had worse. Much worse.” “The stuff with Belle?” She looked up at him, pulling her lip between her teeth. “Nah. That wasn’t bad. I had ... a vampiress take me before that happened. She fucked me up pretty badly.” “Ah.” He brushed her hair back from her face, fingers sliding along close to her cheek and chin. “I ... I used to be into S&M.” The admission had her head shaking back and forth as if she could pull it back into her mouth. Why had she said that? He didn’t look as surprised as she figured he would be. “Used to be?” She swallowed, trying to force down the wedge that was suddenly blocking her throat. “I ... I can’t do it and not run into problems. Some people can. I can’t. I go overboard. Sort of like an alcoholic. Only with pain. I can get off without it, though. I couldn’t before ... but I can now.” The one thing Bastian had done for her. He might not have loved her, but he’d shown her that sex could be good without pain, that she didn’t need to be hurt to invoke her pleasure. She owed Bastian for that. He had done two things -- made her sexual without pain and made her a vampire. “No one should ever hurt you.” His voice, quiet as it was, sounded so authoritative. He meant the words; they had weight falling from his lips. Her eyes glazed with tears. “Not everyone in my life believed that.” Most had believed she deserved what she got. He pulled her into those muscular, strong arms, wrapping them around her. He only held her lightly on the side with the fresh tattoo. Damn. It was what she needed, what she wanted. A lover’s embrace, even though they weren’t lovers yet. Her need for him washed over her like a tidal wave. It was like being at the bottom of the ocean and having it all roll over you while you looked up, searching for air.
98
Mechele Armstrong
His lips searched and sought hers, diving in to kiss her gently, almost sweetly. His tongue swiped across hers, rolling and wrestling. It stole her breath as he consumed her mouth, his kiss getting deeper and more intimate with each press. He pulled his mouth from hers, letting out a loud groan. “We better go find Nathan. Because I won’t be interrupted again.” She nodded, wordlessly, following him through the curtain. She’d had lovers, but never this ... this drowning intimacy.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
99
Chapter Eleven The rose grasped her hips with its stems as they danced around the floor. It wiggled against her most suggestively. Her pussy dripped its moisture, and the sensation between her thighs was almost too much to bear. Her clit tingled, her stomach tightening. She was naked. Her clothes were gone. She didn’t know where they went, didn’t care either. “Baby, I want you.” The gravelly voice shook her down to her toes. So familiar and even in her passion haze, she recognized Rojo. The flower kissed her, pressing its mouth against hers, forcefully claiming it to plunder and stimulate the already shivering nerve endings of her lips. “Yes.” The word ended on a moan as a stem plucked a sensitized nipple. Of course, it was yes. The answer had been yes the instant she met him. There had been no escaping the outcome. The drone of a bee invaded the cloud of desire that encircled her. It buzzed to and fro around her, zipping from side to side. The flower blocked her, pulling her behind it, stepping forward to defend her. Its stems waved wildly around. The bee had a puzzled look as it pressed forward to get to her, madly spinning about to get around Rojo. “Let me have her,” it repeated over and over. The bumblebee flew off, grumbling. Then zipped around behind her, thrusting its stinger into her back, right at heart level. The pain overwhelmed her, making her almost drop to her knees.
100
Mechele Armstrong
“No!” she cried out, trying to move forward to the flower despite her body screaming from the hurt. The rose cocked its flower to the side, seeming to watch her. “Help me.” The flower moved forward, turning her with its stems to look at her back. “Do iiiiiiiiiit. Buzzzzzzzzz,” the bee chanted it as it flew overhead. The rose grasped the stinger, then pushed it forward, embedding it more deeply in her back. Her breath caught in her throat as ... Crimson screamed. Her eyes opened as she came to awareness. Her scream cut off in the middle. She rubbed her face. The dreams didn’t get any better. In fact, the intensity of them was growing. A cackle poured from her parched throat. Knowing she wasn’t nuts didn’t help. Because for all her time with Rojo, the dream still indicated he was going to hurt her. And the feelings of betrayal that accompanied the dreams made her want to weep. The strength of them caught her off guard.
Because you hope he’ll be different. That he won’t betray you like everyone else always has. He won’t. Bullshit. The dreams tell you what will be. Henri said so. And why wouldn’t he betray you? Because ... he cares. The other voice in her head snorted. You’re so naïve. At the tattoo parlor, he’d made her think he might. No one had ever held her like that.
Dummy. Like you could ever be worth anything to anyone. She sighed, her chest heaving as she pushed aside the covers. After dressing, she padded down to the kitchen. It was early in the day to be up. But there was no way she’d go back to sleep after that dream. It didn’t send her into panic mode like the others, but still wasn’t comfortable. Everyone had slept through the scream, probably because she’d cut it off so soon. She went to the windows of the kitchen, looking longingly at her greenhouse. The intensified sunlight was more than she wanted to deal with right now. It made her skin itchy and blotchy. She was vain enough to hope she’d see Rojo later and didn’t want her skin looking toasted. Later, she’d go out to it and play. The sun would be down soon enough. Her time in there hadn’t been as peaceful as usual lately, but it was still her sanctuary. Among the roses was her safe zone.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
101
It had been a day since the tattoo. She hadn’t seen Rojo since then and still didn’t know how to get in touch with him. She’d spent time with Lola, swimming and talking at the YMCA. She’d even come over for a bit when everyone else had been out. Her babysitters had decided being alone in the house was fine, but going out was where she needed to be accompanied. Lola seemed to want a friend, though there was still something funky about the woman. She couldn’t put her finger on it. The flirting wasn’t overt enough to be noticeable, but was bothersome all the same. She turned on the radio, sitting at the kitchen table, putting her head on it. Might as well listen to something while she sat. No one else ever got up this early. A sultry song slinked out of the speakers. She lifted her head from its spot on the kitchen table. She bounced to her feet and shook her hair, letting the strands wander down her back. The music danced through her body, and her hips began to sway. Dancing had always been a big part of her life. Before everything had gone to hell, she’d had ballet and tap, done stripping as an adult. But she danced all the time regardless of whether it was formal or not. She and Copper had often danced and sung while fixing dinner when they’d lived together in St. Louis. It had been a long time since music had enveloped her like this. Since it had wrapped its warm strains around her, sucking her into it. Since it had invited her in. Time had freed her. As Rojo was freeing her. From all the boundaries, all the constraints. His acceptance of her was a wonder. No one would be up for a while. She was alone to do what she wanted. And she wanted to dance. To dance like she once had. She stretched back one arm and then the other. Running her hands down her clothed body, she swiveled her hips to the beat. One hand came up. It slid to the top of her blue oversized shirt, slipping the first button through its hole. The next one followed through its own hole. The whole time, her body shimmied, making full thrusts of her hips. The air on her skin would caress. And she didn’t want clothes in the way of her dancing. The shirt slowly slipped off her shoulders, gliding down her arms, reaching her hands and falling to the ground. She piled her hair up on top of her head with her hands, head thrown back. Her locks spilled through her hands as she dropped them, letting the hair fall back down around her shoulders. Her body crinkled with electricity fueled by the pumping music. She swallowed, her mouth drying out. Both hands stretched to her hips, grasping her red sweatpants and slinking them down her legs. They pooled at her ankles in a soft shoosh. She kicked them off her feet.
102
Mechele Armstrong
The dancing came earnestly, her whole body fusing with the tempo, with the rhythm, until she couldn’t separate herself from the music. There was no her; there was no song. They were one. Her hands came to her back, undoing her bra clasp. Slowly, her movements deliberate, she slid one strap down one arm. The other one tumbled down as slowly. Her bra landed on the floor next to her clothes. Her breasts bobbed, unbound and free. Her hips thrust out and in, swiveling around, her feet keeping up with the pace that her body set. It used to be, the only time she felt beautiful was when she danced. It was the only time she could forget all things and exist, be herself. It was like she was with Rojo, how she felt with him. He made her more alive than she’d ever been. More so even than dancing did. What would he think if he saw her now? Would he find her sexy? Her hands pushed her breasts together, making a deep valley between them. She palmed her nipples, her chest arching into her hands as she touched them. She pinched them between her fingers. Turning, she began to stretch herself out in wide arcs. Her eyes closed as her hands slid down to her hips again. She danced, letting the music infuse her. A noise made her eyes snap open. Rojo stood on the deck outside, framed by the window as he peered in from a crack in the curtains. His eyes were pure heat, pure burning, piercing heat. Her whole body radiated the warmth out, making them burn more. Her pussy clenched, becoming wetter each second he stood there looking at her. Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear the music. But she found the beat and swayed her body to the tune. She danced seductively, biting her lip in nervousness. Her hands slid down into her underwear, pushing on the hair and the outside of her pelvis. His tongue shot out, licking across his full lips. The motion was deliberate and painfully slow. Her whole body shook, seeing that tongue, imagining what it could do. It would feel magnificent on her clit. In her drenched pussy. And God, she wanted to feel it everywhere. It was a need she couldn’t deny herself. Catching those deep, gold-rimmed eyes, she arched her body back, sliding her underwear over her hips. As they reached her thighs, she let go, and they fell down around her knees. She shifted back and forth, kicking them to her ankles. She glanced back to the window; Rojo was gone. Dammit. Her heart sunk. Was she that repulsive that he’d slunk away after watching her dance?
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
103
The click of the doorknob had her spin a quarter turn around. He filled the doorway, his presence dominating the small kitchen space. The door had been unlocked. She swallowed, her tongue shy and like sandpaper. She couldn’t escape his eyes. They burned her like lava, but she couldn’t get away from their intensity. Nor did she want to get away. Beyond words. Nothing could express what she was feeling right now. Need and want gripped her low in her belly. He stalked her. He took big, loping steps that carried him across the kitchen in two strides. She looked up at him, levelly meeting his gaze, daring him to do what they both knew he wanted. What she wanted. His hands reached out, grasping her in their huge grip, pulling her against him. His hungry lips canvassed hers with warm and wet deep kisses, each one hotter and more frantic than the one before. She rubbed her nakedness against him. His intake of breath whistled harshly through his chest. He sidled closer to her, his pelvis rubbing her middle. His cock, heavy and hard under his leather pants, ground into her. She moaned, the friction lovely, but not where she wanted him. “Your room.” He swung her up into his arms. “No. The greenhouse.” He blinked at her and bulldozed through the kitchen door out into the day. She’d never taken anyone into the greenhouse once it had been built. Had never screwed anyone there, either. Fear rolled across her like a snowblower building up the chill. Suppose she ... what if she couldn’t do this? Rojo murmured against her head. “You can. You will.” Her lashes fluttered down. This thought-reading thing still caught her off guard. “I’m scared, Rojo.” The admission humbled her. How many times had she longed to say that to someone? How many times had she longed to be taken care of, to admit weaknesses where no one would fault her? Too many times to count. She’d never had anyone to do those things with, but now she did. He charged through the door. He placed her on shaking feet and faced her, feet planted wide apart. One step toward her was all it took to crowd her, to bring that big body so close to hers, it sizzled her skin. In the sunlit sky, they could see each other too well with sharp vampire eyes. “Do you want this?” “I ... but ...”
104
Mechele Armstrong
“Do you want this?” She could tell him no. Part of her didn’t. The scared part. But it would partially be a lie. Because the living part of her wanted this beyond life itself. If she told him no, he’d walk away. And she didn’t know if she turned down this chance, this opportunity, if it would ever come around again. That was a chance she couldn’t take.
Carpe diem. Seize the day. “I do.” Her voice was hushed in the still air. He slid the lock into place behind them with a click. No going back. She swallowed. “Rojo ... I ...” His finger came up to push gently across her lips. Slowly, he traced the seam of them with that one finger. It tickled, leaving tingling in its wake. “I want you.” His voice lodged into her senses much like the steel lock he’d put into place earlier. His lips lowered so slowly she went mad with the wait. The kiss began as a gentle exploration. His body came across her like a match to the tinder. And her body exploded into flames. She drowned in his kisses, in his mastery of her mouth. Her hands slid up under his tunic, stroking the skin so hot to the touch. It burned her as much as she did inside. He lifted his head long enough to snatch the tunic bottom in his hands and rip it over his head. He tossed it on the floor instead of up on her roses. The throw wasn’t accidental. The care he took warmed her as much as the passion that flowed between them. She pinched his nipple, rolling it between her fingers. His mouth swooped down to cover hers again. She planed her hand across those abs. Definitely could do laundry there. One flick of her finger had his pants open. The zipper made a soft rrrr sound. Both hands at his hips, she slid down his pants. Commando. Why wasn’t she surprised? And oh, baby, his cock hung between his thighs, weighty and rigid. It was long and uncircumcised, skin stretched tight across it. One large vein outlined the edge. The crown glistened. She couldn’t resist touching it. It took two hands to cover it, and even then not fully. He throbbed in her hands. It was almost in time with the throbbing mound of flesh that felt slippery as she clenched her thighs together. She caressed him, sliding him around in her hands. He rewarded her with a throaty moan.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
105
Her head swiveled to look behind him, and she shoved him back so that his rump touched the shelf behind him. He looked back. “Will it hold me?” She nodded, kneeling down as he sat. The shelf creaked, but didn’t drop him. It put him at a perfect height for her on her knees. His eyes glittered, his breathing hitched in anticipation. One sweep of her tongue across the tip. Salty taste. He’d leaked pre-come. She made slow sweeping passes across the end of his cock. It wept under her care. He tasted better than a cherry Blow Pop. Hmm, she’d never thought about it, but what a kinky name for a sucker. Her lips made an O as she sucked him in, swirling her tongue around and taking him deep into the back of her throat. In and out he slipped. He leaned heavily back against the glass panels, his head arching up. Her hand fondled his tight balls, rolling them around under the wrinkled skin covering them. She licked her way down his length, stopping to nibble the skin between balls and cock. He tasted wonderful all over. His body shuddered. Goose bumps erupted on his skin. Smiling that she’d affected him, she drew one ball into her mouth, loving it with her suctioning lips. She began to hum a low pitch. He groaned, his hands fisting. So reading Cosmo was good for something. It sounded like a vibrator for guys. And he seemed to like it, his hips doing a slight thrust. She peeked up at his face. His eyes had closed. His mouth had closed. He looked like he was in ecstasy. Good. Exactly where she wanted him. Ending the vibrations, she licked and nibbled back up to his tip, taking him fully in her mouth again. He knocked lightly on her head with his knuckles. His eyes had opened, and he stared down at her. “I want to come in you. Now.” “But ...” His hand grasped her hair. “I want to come in you, Crimson. I want there to be no more doubts about what I want.” He pulled her head away from his cock and slid down from the shelf on his knees with her. They barely fit in the little walkway.
106
Mechele Armstrong
He reached around her to a blue tarp. He laid it across the tables above them. They were protected from the sunlight. It would be going down soon enough. But the thoughtful gesture made her heart palpitate. The moment of truth. Could she go through with this? A blowjob was one thing. Sex was something else. His hand clutched hers tightly, squeezing it. She searched inside herself. And all she found was how she felt about him. The fear had been eaten away by desire. No room in her for both. She wanted this. Her smile trembled. “Come here.” She lay back. He was on her in a flash. His lips claimed hers so swiftly it took her breath away. Their breath mingled, like their bodies. She shook, her heart pounding with her need. His hand palmed a breast, squeezing it until it almost hurt. He raised his head to stare into her face; his eyes glimmered in the light with passion. The other hand motored down her stomach to her sex, parted her hair, and dove in like an eager kid with candy. He stroked within her folds, finding her clit to roll it between long fingers. Wet and ready, she thrust her hips against his hand with a whimper. She’d been primed since her dance. His big body shifted, his hand went away, his cock brushed against her pussy. And never one to stall at the front gate, her pussy clasped around him, sucking him further into her channel. His sweaty body slid against hers, pubic hair meshing. His breathing sputtered as his body arched against hers, followed by a deep moan. She urged him on, urged the quickness, the pounding. She needed his claim upon her body. Needed it fast and hard. He slammed into her forcefully, as if he might pierce her womb, might become truly one flesh. He never even pulled all the way out before he was down again. His pelvis ground down into hers. She could barely meet his thrusts, they were so tight together. Never had anyone touched her so deeply that souls merged as well as bodies. But with Rojo, the completeness crashed into her. They were one. No one else existed. There was no world outside. There was only Rojo and Crimson. The urge to bite him rolled through her veins, screaming to have a taste of the liquid that pumped so close to his skin. She resisted it as her body clenched and shook with the onset of her orgasm. Her climax ripped through her, taking her into the sky above, beyond stars, beyond solar systems.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
She panted, air not enough, her lungs screaming for oxygen. His body stiffened on top of hers as he roared her name. It echoed from the walls. As they lay in the afterglow, in the coming darkness, Crimson shivered with the aftereffects and with the new knowledge that piped throughout her veins. She loved Rojo Rose. God help her.
107
108
Mechele Armstrong
Chapter Twelve Rojo lay in the still silence of the newly fallen night, holding Crimson close. Her body tangled up in his, their limbs intertwined. She let out a deep breath, snuggling closer against his chest. He leaned down to nuzzle her head with his chin, her fine hairs tickling his nose, then planted a kiss on her forehead. He’d never come close to experiencing anything like what they’d shared. He’d had sex before. But it had been mere fucking. This ... this was more. And he knew what he had to do. “Baby.” He disentangled himself from her arms, shimmying up to push aside the tarp and switch on the light, then rejoining her. The people in the nearby house would be getting up soon if they weren’t already. The light on in the greenhouse would let them know where Crimson was. And they wouldn’t come looking for her. “Umm-hmmmm.” He’d never wanted to stop a moment in time, until now. “I have to go.” Her body froze, going ramrod straight in his arms. Her apprehension flowed off of her in waves. He grasped her delicate chin, forcing that lovely face up to meet his eyes. “I will be back. But I need to go take care of something.” He needed to go ensure that nothing happened to her. Her mouth quivered. She met his gaze, but mistrust blazed a trail across her pupils. The need to erase it caught him by surprise. He stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, liking its softness under the pad. He lowered his mouth to take hers, to brand her to him. Her breath came in pants by the time he was done. He kissed her savagely, taking her passion and wringing it out of her, soaking it in like he was a sponge.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
109
“Rojo ...” She whimpered against his lips. “If you leave me, I’ll hunt you down and haunt you for the rest of your miserable life.” He chuckled, continuing to tease and coax her lips. Kissing her was the best aphrodisiac there had ever been. “I do have to go ... soon.” His dick rubbed insistently against her stomach near her belly button and tattoo, denying his words, demanding its due. He couldn’t leave yet. Not until he’d taken her one more time. As if sensing his capitulation, Crimson shifted herself so that he was at her entrance. Warm wetness engulfed the head of his dick, until he buried himself to the core. Sliding into her had to be the most titillating thing he’d ever experienced. He’d wanted to take this slow, take it easy. But instead, the pace became something fast and furious, as he ground against her like there was no tomorrow, and as if they hadn’t made love an hour earlier. His need hadn’t been cut, he had to be in her, had to make her his, claim her. When he came back, there would be a few days spent in bed. Taking her with the lights on, he saw every motion, every move of her face. He could take pleasure in her joy, in her desire. Before he’d seen with his predatory eyes, but this was clear, he could see every little nuance to her skin. God, she was exquisite. And she belonged with him. They would have a tomorrow. He’d see to it. When she came, her nails scoring his back, it drove him over the edge. The urge to bite her, the urge to feed, grew through his veins like a wildfire along each nerve ending. Resisting it, his head came up with an intense groan, his release pouring out of him. He watched her for fleeting seconds, stroking her hair back from her face. His body had been screaming “mine” at him since the first moment he’d seen her, no matter how hard he’d tried to resist it. His mind had been slow to come around, but now had gotten with the program. She was his. He gently slipped out of her arms, covering her with a jacket that had been left in the greenhouse. Time to make tomorrow happen.
***** Ward let Rojo in, his nostrils flaring. Rojo probably reeked of sex and Crimson. Damn, he should have showered before coming to Lang’s, but he hadn’t wanted to take any more time than he had to getting there, and his thinking hadn’t been straight yet. This confrontation needed to be done now. He put his hand on his knife as Ward motioned for him to follow him up the steps. “Where’s your better half?” Ward’s face pinched up. “Shut up, asshole.”
110
Mechele Armstrong
He followed him up the carpeted steps, the footfalls muffled. Something bad had happened to Charlie; more than likely he was no more. His hand tightened on the straps to the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, the material biting into his fingers. The pain reminded him, take this carefully. Or he’d wind up like Charlie. Not something he desired, especially now that he had Crimson. Ward pushed open a huge white door. “Go on in.” Rojo arched a brow. “Not coming?” Ward growled, waving with his hand. Guess not. He walked in, the door staying open behind him. There were three other doors in and out of the room. Two on the sides and one set of patio doors across from the door Rojo had come through. Lang wore the same damn robe he’d worn last time. He reclined on a couch in what looked like a study or a den, reading the paper. Such a normal human activity, it seemed odd to see a vampire doing it. Not anything he’d ever pictured Lang doing. “Hello, Rose. Bringing me my Conduit?” “No.” He tossed the bag at Lang, hitting him directly in the chest. It should have been his head, but Rojo’s aim was off. “Here.” “What’s this?’ Lang arched a brow. “A present? For me? Rose, you shouldn’t have. Crimson would be present enough.” His voice hardened near the end, reminding Rojo of a steel bar. “I’m no longer on the job. You have your money back. I owe you nothing else.” Rojo’s fist clenched by his side. Lang let out a deep sigh, placing the bag on the floor beside him. “Fair enough.” He got up, stalking over to Rojo, his bare feet making puttering sounds on the carpet. The belt wasn’t tightly cinched, so Lang flashed his body with every step. He stood his ground as Lang came closer still. Lang sniffed, taking in the air like he scented some fine wine. “You smell of sex. That’s her scent, isn’t it? It’s all over you.” Lang leaned in close to inhale against his neck. He didn’t twitch a muscle. He could smell Lang’s sickly scent, like a cross between sour musk and something like dead earth. Lang drifted back on his heels. “I never thought I’d see you brought down by a pussy, Rose.” He shook his head. “Never thought I’d see it.” Rojo shrugged. “Funny, how this all came about after you found out she was a Conduit.” Lang put a pensive look on his face, cocking his head to the side. “You’re one hard dick, Rose. I bet the girl thinks you’re in love with her and all that shit. Instead, you only want her power.” Lang chuckled evilly. “I will get her before you do. And at least, I’m being honest, not playing her.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
111
“She’s not a Conduit.” Rojo quelled his emotions after hearing himself speak so roughly. It would lead to a mistake. And he intended to walk out of this alive. He’d either convince Lang she wasn’t a Conduit. Or kill him. “Bullshit.” “She’s not.” Lang’s eye twitched furiously. Anger crackled in his voice like static on a phone line. “How do you know?” “I sampled her blood. It’s normal.” Lang’s voice lowered to a furious bass. “You lie. She is a Conduit. Her identical twin sister is one. She must be.” Copper and Crimson were identical? He’d forgotten about that. He noticed all the differences in them and could tell them apart. Human eyes probably couldn’t. But he’d been looking more closely at the one who’d captured his attention. “Crimson isn’t like her sister. There’s no power to be had.” Lang let out a loose growl and paced back and forth before Rojo. “It can’t be. She must be one.” He shrugged. “Too bad. She’s not.” Lang swung around so fast that he almost lost his balance. “You want her for yourself. You slick bastard. I don’t believe you. Trying to play me like this. I’m not some dumb bitch.” His voice went up several octaves. His body tightened as if he could spring at Rojo and make what he wanted true. Rojo’s heart sped up, even as he tried to calm his reactions. Lang would suppose that Rojo had lied, and that’s why he’d had a physical reaction. He wanted him to believe what he was saying about Crimson. He needed to stay stoic. Like a stone. Don’t let it out. That’s how he’d gotten through most of his life. “It’s the truth.” Lang thoughtfully pulled at his chin. “I can’t believe your words. Her scent is all over you. I don’t trust you not to try and take what’s mine.” His teeth clenched with a click. “She’s not yours.” And she never would be. “You can prove to me you’re telling the truth.” “How?” He would do anything to protect her. “Let me in your mind. Drop your shields.” Shit. Except that. “I can’t.” He closed his eyes for a brief second, silently cursing. Lang’s flutterings at his mind, which he’d felt since coming in but had ignored, strengthened, then waned as he didn’t get in. Lang laughed, the sound breaking the quietness of the room like a knife across a sharpener. “Can’t? Or won’t? It proves my point.” He sidled so close to Rojo, he could count
112
Mechele Armstrong
nose hairs. “You lie.” The angry snarl snapped from his mouth. “She is a Conduit. And you want her.” “I can’t.” He took a deep breath, didn’t take a step back, but stayed in position, keeping his head level with Lang’s, meeting his eyes. He did want her. But not the way Lang supposed. He’d not taken blood from Crimson because he’d never allow her to do the same to him. So he didn’t know if Crimson was a Conduit or not. Lang would catch that lie in his head if he came in. Among other things. “Then we have a problem.” “I guess we do.” “I will have my Conduit.” “No. You won’t.” He shook his head for emphasis, his tight braid swinging side to side on his back. He would never allow Crimson to be taken, to be used as a mere vessel of power for some asshole vampire. Not while he drew breath or had one limb to fight with. Lang clucked, reminding him of a chicken, the sounds chirping in the room. Lang meant it to be intimidating, but it wasn’t, not with that image floating around his warped mind. “You can’t stop me.” “I can.” Desperation could make a man do anything. Lang stopped, his body becoming ever so still. His chest heaved. “You think so, huh?” His voice dropped several octaves. Rojo darted, launching at the vampire, hand on his knife, unsheathing it quickly. He slashed, aiming for whatever body part he could reach. He’d slit Lang’s throat, drain him, watch him die. Lang yelled, “Turquoise!” Vampires burst in the room from all sides, weapons drawn. The momentary distraction was enough for Lang to move out of arm’s reach. Rojo put up his arms in defense, and at least ten guards congregated around Lang, protecting him. Lang bled from a neck wound. Damn, if only he’d gotten the vocal cords. One more second, he’d have had Lang tackled to the ground. “Still going to kill me, boy?” “Pussy. Hiding behind your men.” He dropped his hands and put on his most bored expression. “I expected better from you. At least the pussy that drives me is someone else’s, not my own.” “You can’t bait me, Rose.” “I’m not trying. Fight me. One on one. You win, I’ll let you kill me. I won’t even fight.” He could take him in hand to hand. With weapons, Lang had an advantage. Money could always buy better state of the art. “No. I don’t think so.” Lang frowned, his lips pursing together. “See, I’ve not forgotten how many you’ve killed. Especially for me. I won’t be fighting you anytime soon.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
113
He grimaced in frustration. He’d lost any element of surprise, gotten in his one free shot. Too many had come to Lang’s rescue for him to take them all down. “You yellowbellied coward.” Lang let out a loud barking laugh. “Your cowboy roots are coming out.” He had a smirk the size of Texas on his face. Too many things Rojo remembered from that time came to bear on his mind. He shook them off. Focus on now. “Listen to me, Rose. Your greed has gotten the best of you. I can forget that. I have other avenues to get what’s mine.” Lang wiped at the congealed blood on his neck. “But what should I do about this? This, I can’t forget. I owe you.” “Come and try it.” He clasped a hand tighter on his knife. He surveyed the room again. Guards flanked three of the doors. The patio set was the most accessible. He wouldn’t sacrifice himself unless he took Lang out. And that was impossible now. He had to get away. Had to warn Crimson. Lang picked up a crystal candlestick, crushing it to dust in his hands. “Take your punishment like a man. Cross me again, I’ll put you in more pieces than that. I’ll fuck you. And kill you. And laugh while you turn to ash.” Before Lang could order his men to attack, he rushed them, tossing one to the ground, crashing through the patio door. He dashed out on the balcony, leaping off of it to the ground below. Tucking his body in, he rolled to a stop. “You assholes! Shoot him.” Lang screamed, his voice filled with frustration. Rojo jumped to his feet, off and running. Bullets whizzed by his head. He stumbled as one embedded itself in his shoulder. He didn’t stop until he got to his car and sped out of there. Vampires should be able to shape shift. Flying like a bat would have been a better escape. His shoulder ached as tiredness gnawed at him. He’d need to eat or at least get a little healing sleep before he did anything else. Damn, this situation was going to get complex. But somehow he had to find a way to protect Crimson. And if it meant throwing himself to the lions, so be it.
***** Lang watched Rose run off. He should look more like a puppy with his tail between his legs instead of strutting like he owned the world. Why did the boy have to have such a tight ass? It was a crime. Especially on someone who had sexual morals. He shook his head. Rose’s hidden agenda finally showed: power. He sought power by trying to claim his Conduit. Like he’d believe that Crimson wasn’t a Conduit based on Rojo’s word. Not until he sampled the blood himself would he trust anything. He’d find power, the ultimate, in her blood. He couldn’t wait. All his enemies would bow before him or be crushed.
114
Mechele Armstrong
He rubbed the now-healed cut on his neck. Rojo had attacked him. He’d prepared for it with his guards, but never expected him to do it. The desire for power did crazy things to people. The boy kept secrets, he sensed it. What was so important to him? It wasn’t Crimson. There was more to Rose not letting him in his head moments ago. Maybe one day he’d arrange to press inside that tight ass and discover everything about Rojo Rose. Right now, he had other things to deal with. “He stunk of Crimson. He’ll probably run home and tell her all about you.” Ward lowered his head in subjugation as Lang’s gaze shifted to him. “He won’t. Besides, they already know I’m after them.” He clenched a fist. “Thanks to you and Charlie.” Ward blanched at the mention, his face agonized for a minute, and then relaxing. “Why won’t he?” Confusion now hazed his placid face. Minions never understood plotting. It’s why they stayed minions. He shook his head back and forth. “Because he’s playing her. He won’t want her to know he was involved with me. That would blow anything he’d planned.” “Oh.” Ward plopped down on a chair near where Lang stood. “Suppose he is in love with her?” His smile was overblown and huge, stretching his face. “Even better. If he’s fallen for her -- which I doubt -- then he will definitely not tell her. Because that will ruin whatever burgeoning feelings there are. But in all his history, Rojo Rose has never done anything for anyone but himself.” He smiled. Victory would be his. “He won’t start now.” He sat down, leaning back into the cushions. His stomach gurgled, rumbling. He hungered for his vices, blood, sex, and a little bit of torture. “So how will you get Crimson?” Ward let out a deep sigh. “Now that Rose isn’t working for you anymore.” “Funny you should ask. Because things are falling into place. With my backup plan, of all things.” He laid his head back. He’d have to send Ward hunting soon for new humans. He studied Ward’s face. Killing Charlie had taken what little drive Ward had. He doubted he would last too much longer. He would have to find new minions. Easy to make, but hard to keep. Some turned animalistic. Others were lousy at being vamps. “Backup plan?” “Luckily, I didn’t depend on you. Or on Rose. I sent in a true go-getter --” Lang propped his legs up. “-- who won’t fail me.” “Who?” “No one you know. But she’s made contact. She will be bringing me Crimson. Soon.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
115
Ward rubbed his face, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “How do you know this? No one called. Or came to see you. I’ve been with you all day.” “We have an arrangement. Once I assign her, she doesn’t come to see me until the job is done. She lets me know when she’s close by a signal.” Lang tapped the paper. “And today’s the day. I thought that Rose would be the one to bring her in.” He clucked his tongue. “Too bad for Rose. All his money problems would have ended.”
116
Mechele Armstrong
Chapter Thirteen Crimson stretched out, awakening from her nap. Her body was sore in a few places it hadn’t been in a while. A long while. Her smile went wide as the events of the last few hours passed across her mind. Sex with Rojo had been delicious. She reached an arm. Her eyes flew open. He wasn’t there. She sat up so quickly, she banged her head against a shelf. “Ow.” She rubbed the smarting place. Dumb move, the shelf had always been there. She scented the air, searching for him among the roses and lavender. Rojo’s had faded. He’d been gone a while. “Dammit.” Her mouth crinkled into a frown. Where had he gone? Something wasn’t right. But she couldn’t be sure what. Her eyes peered into the darkness that surrounded her, searching for any movement, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Her head cocked around as she lifted up her face, sniffing again, taking in more air. Difficult to smell things over the flowers, but she was used to doing it. She caught a smell she recognized, but couldn’t quite place. It lay faintly over everything but the flowers’ scent. It was fresher than Rojo’s. She pushed the blue tarp out of the way, its crinkling sounds hardly reassuring. Instead, they pinged along her already fractured nerves. The darkness pulled her into its inky blackness with velvet arms. She’d loved the darkness, even as a child. She’d never had a nightlight like other children. When she’d found out about vampires, it hadn’t been hard to give up the daylight. Not that she’d had a choice when she’d become a vampire. Her head went up to stare at the light fixture. No lights burned in the greenhouse.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
117
Rojo had turned them on earlier before they’d made love for the second time. He wouldn’t have turned them off when he left, knowing everyone in the house would look for her and use the lights to find her. If Nathan or Henri had come out to check on her, they wouldn’t have left her sleeping. They would have woken her up, probably made her go back inside. So who had turned off the lights? She raised up on her knees, still trying to peek through the dim light. The moon set full and overhead in the sky. Breath. She could hear the swooshing sounds of someone breathing. Her heart pounded even as she regulated her own. No time for panting or heart palpitations. She wanted to be able to hear everything and couldn’t over her body’s reactions. Every command to calm only had her panic increasing. Every neuron told her to run. It told her to flee now, to get away at all costs. It didn’t make sense. Foot falls started, the clittery-clattery noise of shoes on dirt, jarring across her senses like nails down a chalkboard. The door to the greenhouse jerked open. Crimson pushed up to a fighting stance, feet wide apart. Lola stood in the doorway. She wore a black trench coat, black pants, and some black halter top-type thing. She looked like a spy. Put on some combat paint, and she’d have had the commando look. Was that in this season? Crimson would have to tease her about that later. Once her heart started beating again. She blew out a deep breath. Relief flooded her. They must have planned another visit, and she’d forgotten. “Oh, it’s only you.” Lola snickered, letting the door fall closed behind her. “Only me. Rojo left a little while ago.” Her eyes swept over Crimson’s nakedness, desire flaring within the liquid pools. Crimson resisted the urge to cover herself up. She had nothing big enough and refused to scrounge. But where Rojo’s reflected need had made her weak in the knees, Lola’s pissed her off. “Put your eyes back in your head.” Lola didn’t even look chagrined at getting caught staring. It took a moment for her to process what the other woman had said. “Rojo? You know Rojo?” “Oh, yes, I know him.” Lola flitted around, moving from side to side, setting a piece of paper on top of the shelves. Her nervous actions reminded Crimson of a bug or even a bee fluttering around. “We’re work associates, you might say.” “Oh?” She clenched her fingers down by her side. She didn’t know what Rojo did, besides drive her nuts.
118
Mechele Armstrong
“Yeah. We work for the same boss.” Lola took out a pin, like a small stinger, and stabbed her paper, tacking it to the shelf. “I didn’t know who Rojo worked for. Small world you two know each other.” A little too small. Her throat constricted. “Oh, yeah, it’s tiny even. Of course, with you as a draw ...” Lola caressed the shelf with one hand, her fingers lingering over the wood. Crimson shifted back and forth from foot to foot. Sometimes Lola looked like she wanted to touch Crimson, but touched other stuff instead. “Me? I’m not a draw.” “Oh, but you are. Red hair and a body that won’t quit. And, of course, being a Conduit, too.” She stilled, not moving a muscle. “A Conduit?” Her breathing sped up again, her heart racing in her chest. This conversation couldn’t be heading where it seemed to be. Who was Lola’s boss? “A Conduit. It’s why Lang wants you so badly.” Lola pulled some rope out of her pocket, twirling it over her hands.
Oh, shit. “You’re working for Lang.” Every sense went on alert. And the barrier she’d felt blocking her from Lola fell away. Lola was a vampire. Crimson twitched on her feet, moving a step back. Why hadn’t she sensed it before? All the tools were behind Lola, the only things that could be used as weapons out here. Dammit, she’d had to come out to the greenhouse naked. “I am working for Lang.” “Why couldn’t I sense you?” She continued to scan, looking for anything she could use. The longer she kept Lola talking, the more chance she had of someone in the house coming to look for her and a better chance of getting away on her own. Lola grinned, full of malevolence and mischief. “I have the power to block other vampires from sensing me. I’ve been blocking you the whole time.” Lola took two steps toward her. “Great power, huh?” “Uh-huh.” Crimson eyed the entrance and only exit. Nothing else had come to mind about getting out of here. Lola blocked it. Well, that meant the insane little bitch would have to go down. Two things happened at once. Crimson’s thoughts came full circle, which made her let out a loud gasp, her knees buckling slightly, but she barely had time to process it before Lola took her attention. Lola let the twine fly and lassoed her right around the neck. She’d been secured before she had a chance to flinch. The rope was Lola’s weapon? She’d figured it was to tie her up. “Gaaaaaaaa.” She yelped as Lola tightened the noose around her neck, pulling it taut so that she had to follow it or have her air cut off, pulling the other end around an upper shelf
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
119
support. Her hands came up, trying to loosen it, to get it off her so she could breath. It squished her throat, making her wheeze. She rasped as Lola clucked her tongue. “Don’t fight so much. It only pulls it tighter. I was the Oklahoma state champion for calf roping. A little girl like you isn’t even a workout.” She choked. Each time she got it looser, Lola grabbed the rope and pulled, tightening it once again. And using the shelf post, she had leverage that increased her strength. Spots began floating in darkness in front of her eyes. Lola grabbed the other end of another piece of twine, pulling it tight around her feet. She hadn’t even noticed Lola tossing it around them. Lola yanked, pulling her feet out from under her with strong arms. On her back, she fought to stay conscious, thrashing in her quest. Stuff flew off shelves from her bumping around. Pain would bring her back to herself, keeping her from going under. If she lost consciousness, Lang would have her. She wasn’t going to end up this way. Not without a fight. She lashed out with her tied-together feet, catching Lola square in the face. She had to get out of this. “You bith. You bwoke my waw.” Lola picked up the small hoe that Crimson used for some window boxes, pushing to her feet, and slammed it against Crimson’s head several times until she passed out.
***** Crimson came to consciousness in a moving vehicle, lying back in the passenger seat, feet and hands tied. Her head ached and throbbed from the beating. She kept her eyes closed, her head not spinning enough to forget the last thing that had happened. The thought that had brought her to her knees and allowed rodeo bitch the upper hand came rushing back. Lola said she and Rojo worked for the same boss. Then Lola admitted she worked for Lang, which meant Rojo worked for Lang, too. There was only one reason he’d be working for Lang. Her. Rojo had betrayed her. “I know you’re awake. You don’t have to pretend.” Lola’s bored voice came from the driver’s seat. She opened her eyes, glaring at the blond. She tested the bonds and twine, trying not to be obvious. A coat had been placed across her. Lola hadn’t taken time to put clothes on her, not that any were in the greenhouse, and they weren’t the same size. She shivered, goose bumps rising as the cold registered. “You are one dumb bitch. I swear. You’re tied tight. Sit back and relax, we’ll be there soon.” She laid her head back. “I’m not dumb.” Lola snorted.
120
Mechele Armstrong
“I’m not. How’s your jaw?” Lola let loose something like a growl. “It’s healing. I still feel it twinging. Don’t push me. If Lang didn’t want you whole, you’d be full of holes.” They rode in silence for a minute. She watched the dark scenery. How far out of Denver did Lang live? Somehow she’d escape. She’d need to know how to work her way back. Not that she had a clue how far they’d come while she’d been unconscious. “Are you going to ask about Rojo? I know you want to.” Lola cackled like a witch at Halloween. Her glee made Crimson sick at her stomach. It was payback for her commenting on Lola’s jaw. “No, I don’t want to.” Her voice crackled. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to accept this. She’d desperately blocked anything dealing with Rojo out of her mind for now. “Lang hired him to bring him you. He’s getting paid well.” Hearing it felt as bad as she’d imagined. Her stomach rumbled; she hadn’t eaten much before going in the greenhouse with Rojo. She flexed a hand, seeing how far she could stretch out the bond. “If he’s getting paid for delivering me, why do you have me?” A little hope resided in her breast. Maybe he wasn’t involved. “Oh, hon.” Lola’s glance held mock pity. “He’s been playing you. Working for Lang the entire time. We’re in cahoots. He’ll get his ...” She laughed. “Right after you get yours. He and I will divide up lots of money. While Lang gets his power.” Crimson looked away out the window. She stabbed her fingernails into her palm. Don’t
cry. Don’t give her the satisfaction. But it hurts. I told you so. She forced a smile to her trembling lips. “Rojo meant nothing to me. He was a good screw. Nothing more.” No matter that her heart was breaking, going against everything she said. She’d been betrayed again, by someone she knew would do it and couldn’t stay away from. She certainly deserved what she got this time. Maybe her mother was right, she was the bad seed, the bad apple. “Isn’t he? The man can fuck all night long. Never leaves a woman until morning.” Lola took a hand off the wheel and put it to her face. “Oh, but I forgot. He left you after a few hours, didn’t he? You must be one lousy lay.” “Nah, he is. I mean with that little dick and all.” “I’m glad we had it go down like this.” Lola sighed intensely in relief. “I thought we might have to do something to your bodyguard. Worked out much better this way. I knew it was almost time to bring you in. Had alerted Lang. Our trip to the Y today would have been the time.” Rojo had used her. He’d been sent to retrieve her with this witch of a woman. He’d never been interested in her, only in how much money she could bring him. And the next
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
121
time she saw him, she was going to rip off his cock, serve it to him, and scratch his eyes out. No one would want a sightless, cockless lover. Vampires could heal but not rejuvenate limbs and organs. Oh, yeah, she would make him pay. Then she’d have the breakdown. “My bodyguard will come for me.” So would Henri. She had to hold on for a little while. Lola cackled again. The sound grated, making Crimson want to slap her. “No. No, they won’t.” She shook her head as Lola continued. “I left them a note, copying your style of writing. Saying how you and Rojo needed time together. By the time they realize you’re not with Rojo, Lang will have you. And he won’t let you go.” She gritted her teeth, tucking her rage down deep inside where she could hold on to it firmly. It would help fuel her, help her come out of this.
***** Lola left Crimson in the car. No matter how hard she wriggled and squirmed, she couldn’t get out of the bonds. She screamed. Her throat ached from the strain but the frustration didn’t ease. They’d take the bonds off at some point. Leave her alone. She’d pull a MacGyver, find a paperclip or something and get away. She refused to die here. Not this time. This time it would be permanent. No coming back from ash. That had hit her in Paris when she’d fucked up things so badly with Belle. Her fear had been Henri taking her out. And she’d realized she wanted to live. One of the men from the YMCA traipsed back out the car. He’d been the one on the side of the pool. “We meet again, Crimson.” He opened the door, lifting off the coat. More goose pimples erupted all over her skin. It was too chilly to be naked outside. At least vampires didn’t catch colds. What had his name been again? Walter? Walker? Something with a W. ’Course, curse words were always so more personal than a name. “So we do, asshole. Learn to swim yet? And where’s your evil twin?” His lips bunched up. “Charlie’s dead because of you, bitch. I hope Lang makes everything slow and tortuous for you while I watch.” He pulled her out of the car, dropping the coat back on the seat. Lang didn’t have any neighbors, or they’d have a full moon tonight. Crimson sneered. “I hope I get to kill you.” He tossed her over his shoulder like some sack, making sure to bump her in all the doorways. Maybe antagonizing him hadn’t been her best option. But maybe it would knock him off balance enough to give her some opportunity. What that would be, she didn’t know yet. She’d figure it out when it happened.
122
Mechele Armstrong
They reached a room upstairs. Ward pushed open a door and shuffled in. He set her on a white chair and adjusted her bonds so as not to cut off her airway, then shut the door behind him as he left. Testing the still tight rope, Crimson took a look around the new surroundings. Everything had been done in blacks and whites. The startling contrast pained her eyes with its starkness. It was a bedroom, with a small couch, bed, and the chair she sat on. Her greenhouse was smaller than this man’s bedroom. It was cavernous. Lola reclined on a couch, beaming like a star-struck puppy.
Tell me she’s not acting like some thirteen-year-old with a rock band? OK, I’ll tell you. Look at her face. She’s simpering for show. She took a good gander. Lola faked a good look of awe and wonderment. But the tightness of her jaw and her eyes gave it away. Fear reflected in those blue pools. Not a good thing. If Lola was frightened, even when she had delivered Lang’s treasure, it didn’t bode well. A noise at the bar behind her had Crimson snaking her head around as much as she could to look. A muscular man poured drinks from a decanter. The brown liquid swirled in the glasses. His brown hair came to his shoulders. His brown eyes glowed like the alcohol in the glasses. His body had been oiled, glowing under the incandescent lights. He wore nothing to cover himself, naked as she was. Lang. Her head wobbled for a second as a shiver wracked her. She wanted to blame the cold, but fear arced along her skin. She’d seen Henri’s memory. Lang could be vicious. He sauntered to the couch beside Lola. “Hello, Crimson. I’m Lang.” “I know who the fuck you are. Don’t care. What the hell do you want with me?” Time to stop beating the bush and get to the quail underneath. He shook his head and then took a big gulp of his drink. He swallowed slowly, looking as if he savored the flavor. “In that much of a hurry?” “Well, yeah. Places to be. I’m sure you have people to kill.” “She’s got a mouth on her, doesn’t she?” Lola swirled her drink around in the glass, not sampling it at all. Perhaps being the only clothed person in the room had the effect of making one not thirsty.
Please don’t let her start stripping. “That she does.” He leaned forward on his cushion. “You want to know why I want you here with me?” “Sure do.” Crimson strove for nonchalance.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
123
“Because, my dear, I want the power in your veins.” Lang’s lips drew up in a smug smile, like he had all the answers. He’d lose that when she told him she wasn’t a Conduit. “What power?” “Don’t play dumb.” “She’s good at that.” Lola pushed her hair back from her face, then softly whispered, “I don’t think she’s playing.” “Shut up, bitch.” Crimson slitted her eyes at the wench. “Make me.” Lola’s eyes glittered as her red lips accentuated her words. “Untie me. I will.” Lang put a hand on Lola’s knee. Crimson sighed in relief that she was too far away to touch. “Behave, ladies.” “You think I’m a Conduit?” She leaned back in her chair, unobtrusively testing the bonds again. “I know you’re a Conduit.” “Then you’re dumb.” Lang’s face went hard. “What? What did you say?” Lola smirked, mouthing, “Get her.” “I said you’re dumb.” Lola snickered at Crimson’s repeated words. Lang took his hand off Lola and folded his arms on his chest. “Watch your mouth.” He glared at Lola. “I’m not a Conduit. My sister is. And she did that mating shebang that makes her a Conduit only to Bastian.” She shrugged. “You not only got the wrong girl, but you’re too late on the right one.” “Please.” He shook his head. “You and your sister are identical twins. That means identical in every way.” “A common misconception. We may look a lot alike. But there are differences. More so as we get older, and seen easier by a vampire than the naked human eye. And one way I’m different is that I’m not a Conduit.” Lang cocked his head, looking like he contemplated what she said. “Don’t play games.” She laughed, feeling it all the way to her belly. “Like I’d play games now. I’m not a Conduit. But why don’t we end the speculation.” “How?” Lang’s eyes narrowed. “Sample my blood. If I’m a Conduit, the power will be evident right away.” Lang’s smile sent chills racing along Crimson’s spine. Letting this maniac feed would be the hardest thing she’d ever done. But once he found out the mistake ...
Yeah, he’ll offer you apologies and tea, letting you go on your merry way.
124
Mechele Armstrong
At least he’ll know. And kill you that much quicker. Lang pushed to his feet and approached her. She kept her eyes focused on his face. She had no desire to see his cock up close. He dipped his head, pushing her hair to one side, his breath tickling her neck. She swallowed, baring her neck for better access. He sank his fangs in deep. She winced; she’d forgotten how much that could hurt. He lifted his head, blood dripping from his mouth. He licked his lips. The frown came instantly. It grew on his face. “What the fuck?” He grabbed her hair, forcing her head up, sinking in again. This time as his head shot up, he roared. “You’re not a fucking Conduit, bitch! I’ve been cheated.” She didn’t duck, but met his look head on while Lola blanched on the couch. “I told you.” Lang’s rage contorted his face, his expression one she had never seen before on anyone. Such venom poisoned his face. “You have to be. Your twin ...” He let loose another roar, picking up a vase and shattering it against the wall. The crash echoed in the room, dust spiraling around the spot where it landed. “Lang.” Lola spoke quietly. She had folded her hands and set them primly in her lap. Her eyes didn’t meet his. “What?” He twirled around like he’d forgotten she was there, snarling the words, eyes snapping fire. “If you don’t feel the power, she must not be one.” Her words of logic enraged Lang even more. “I know that!!” He let another vase fly, shards scattering all over the floor. “Don’t you think I know that? I’m not stupid.” “I still want my payment.” Lola’s chin came up, her chest fluffing up. “I’m out of here.” Crimson ducked tighter into the chair, watching with interest, still toying with her bonds, trying to find a loose strand. Damn the rodeo bitch. She didn’t want to be here when Lang’s attention found her again. “Payment?” Lang stalked over to Lola in two strides as she flinched and backed away. “Payment? I’ll give you payment.” He descended on her much like the hounds of hell must do to their victims. She never had a chance, despite her telling Lang with bravado that he’d never be able to kill her. Not even as he pinioned her behind the couch, taking her blood, draining her. Any wounds she made on him were superficial.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
125
As Lola turned to ash, Lang turned back toward her. “You.” He sprinted to her, slinging her up and tossing her on his bed. “You will pay for not being what you should be, bitch.” She could barely understand him, the anger tainting his voice too much as the pain began.
126
Mechele Armstrong
Chapter Fourteen Rojo startled awake. Dammit, how long had he been asleep? He yanked on the keys in the ignition, starting the car to see the clock. The blinking LCD light flickered at him. It had only been three hours. He blew out a breath of relief, shaking off the lethargy. It felt like he’d slept for days. He’d driven away from Lang’s until he couldn’t drive anymore, making sure he hadn’t been followed. Then he’d pulled off. His need had been great. Sleeping had helped, but he needed a meal. He could easily find one now. Damn plastic bags. But even they sounded good right now. He needed to go see Crimson anyway and lay it all out on the line. Tell her what he had been doing and what had changed, namely getting to know her. He hated for her to know his part in all this. Things would be hard on her. But it was the only way to ensure her safety. He wouldn’t let it end what they had. He couldn’t. A bad feeling niggled at him. His senses hummed, jangling as if to alert him to some unforeseen danger. Crimson had to be safe. He’d left her in the hub of her family, alone but still protected. Nothing could happen to her there. He looked around the car, searching the roads and woods for anything that could pose a threat. He didn’t see anything. No one had followed him. Lang wouldn’t deal with him yet. Later, there’d be some retribution. But Lang would bide his time. It must be the hunger working his nerves. He put the car in gear, pulling out onto the road. Driving for several minutes, his hunches eating at him, he picked up his cell phone, needing to hear her voice, if only for a second. He dialed.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
127
“Allo?” Nathan picked up with cheery enthusiasm. “Nathan. It’s Rojo. May I speak to Crimson?” Silence reigned for a second. “Is this one of your sick jokes? Because if so, your sense of humor tops mine.” Nathan’s voice went from cheery to unease in three seconds. His heart pounded, hammering in his ears. “Not a joke. Where is she?” Please let her be there. Let it be a sick Nathan joke. He wouldn’t put it past Nathan to shit him with something like this. “She left a note in the greenhouse. Said she was going away with you.” Nathan’s voice reflected the worry and concern that pushed up in him, threatening to explode. “Shit.” “She’s not with you, then?” He could hear Nathan’s voice sagging, heard the crinkle of material as he sat down on something. “No.” “Were you here earlier? In the greenhouse? Along with Lola?” Rojo’s heart took a turn to his throat and then bottomed down all the way to his stomach. “Who’s Lola? I was there for a while. I went in the greenhouse.” Where he had made earth-shattering love to a woman who was now in mortal danger if Lola was who he thought it might be. “I scented you,” Nathan said matter-of-factly. “Scented her, too. Lola is a new friend of Crim’s. They’ve been swimming together. Not that I’ve met her. I saw her in passing. Smelled her on Crimson under the chlorine.” “Lola.” The words slipped off his tongue in a harsh whisper. “You’re sure Crimson’s new friend is named Lola? How new?” “I’m sure. It’s only been a week or so since they met. She approached Crimson about swimming with her.” Nathan sucked in a breath. “She met Lola right after she met you.” Lola was the second coming of Lang. She’d been his protégé, his self-avowed finest creation. No one knew the reason why they’d separated a few years ago. But she still did work for him occasionally. Her gift was that other vampires couldn’t sense her. She could block their radar. Crimson, being a younger vampire, probably hadn’t even realized the shield had been in place. Nathan might have sensed it, which was why he’d never met her. Henri would have been able to tell right off. And without them knowing she was a vampire, she’d skated in under Henri’s radar. Lola and Lang weren’t mentioned together unless one asked about them. Henri wouldn’t have because he’d thought Lola was human. How many other Lolas were there in Denver? It couldn’t be a coincidence that Lola had been there, and now Crimson was gone.
I have other avenues to get what’s mine.
128
Mechele Armstrong
Lang had mentioned that during the confrontation. Every clue had to mean Lang had Crimson. Rojo could barely hear Nathan muttering something to him over the phone. He clicked off mumbling, “Lang.” He wasn’t that far from his hotel room so he headed that direction. It was closer than Crimson’s to Lang’s anyway. There was too much to explain to Nathan and Henri right now. They could kick his ass after Crimson was safe. He would stop and get weaponry to go bring back what was his.
***** Rojo burst through the front door, guns blazing before it opened all the way. He shot Ward in the throat in the foyer and mowed down the other guards running to him. It wouldn’t stop them, but would slow them down enough for him to have free rein and rescue Crimson. He would go back later and end their sorry existences before they fully recovered. He stalked up the steps, ignoring his second superficial bullet wound of the day, shooting three more guards before he kicked open the door to Lang’s bedroom. “Rose.” Lang’s head pivoted around from where he sat on his bed. He hadn’t even gotten up to investigate the gunshots, hadn’t taken a break from hurting Crimson. The bastard. “I thought that might be you. The bitch isn’t a Conduit. So we don’t have to fight over her. She’s worth nothing to either of us.” Crimson lay draped across his lap, and he pushed her to the side like a rag doll. Ropes lay on the floor by the bed. She lay too still in the heap where she’d fallen on the sheets. Blood leaked out of the corner of Lang’s mouth, Crimson’s blood. The sheets were no longer white. They were red. All Rojo could see was a red haze over his eyes mirroring the bed. Fury like never before energized him, his animal taking over, demanding justice for what had been done to his woman. Rojo aimed his gun at Lang’s chest. “She’s worth something to me, you son of bitch.” He fired quickly. Lang moved, but not quick enough, the shot blasting a hole in Lang’s stomach. Lang looked down, his mouth opening and closing in surprise like a guppy. “You shot me.” Rojo pulled the trigger again, but Lang leaped out of the way this time. He landed on his feet, off and running, darting through another door. The animal roared to go after him, to make him pay. But he had to help Crimson first. He assured his beast it would get its due. Lang would pay for this. Keeping his guard up for possible intruders coming in, Rojo backed over to Crimson.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
129
She lay on the bed, still and pale. So much blood pooled in the sheets underneath her. She gasped, her breath hanging in her throat, making a gargling sound like something would spew up. Red-tinged spit bubbles appeared at her mouth. Rojo had seen enough death to know Crimson was dying. “Oh, God, Crimson.” He pulled her up on his lap. “No.” He refused to accept this, searching for something, for anything that would help her. Dying as a vampire was permanent, no second chances, no coming back. With one last cough, she managed to spit out blood and say, “I love you, Rojo.” Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body wracked with tremors. The death gurgle sounded in her chest. Her right foot slowly began to turn to ash. She screamed, even though all her bodily functions had shut down. “Bloody fucking dammit all to hell!” Rojo yelled, fumbling at his side, pulling his knife out of its sheath one-handed. He sliced his gun arm open to the bone. Prying open Crimson’s mouth with the other hand, he poured his blood into her mouth. His Conduit’s blood had to be enough. It magnified a vampire’s powers threefold; surely it would save Crimson. Or else what the fuck was it good for? It had never brought him anything but misery and pain. Let this be the one good thing it ever did.
Please, please, let it be enough. I can’t lose her. “Crimson.” He massaged her throat, urging her to swallow the liquid in her mouth. “Come on, Crimson. Let it be enough. Please don’t die. I love you.” Words he’d never said before to anyone. More of her foot disintegrated into ash as he continued to pour his blood into her mouth. This had to work; it had to restore her. He couldn’t watch her die. His eyes got blurry. He’d been slightly drained; the new wound had drained him more. He needed to feed. But not unless Crimson came with him. “Dammit! If it can’t do this, what the fuck is it good for?” He screamed the words out of his dry throat. She coughed, spitting some of the blood out. “No. Take it in, baby. Swallow it. Don’t die. Please don’t die.” Another rarely said word for him, please.
Wait a minute. She’d coughed. You could only do that if you were breathing, which she hadn’t been a few seconds earlier. He listened closely. He’d never been much of a praying man, even as a human, but he prayed now like never before.
130
Mechele Armstrong
The sounds of respiration echoed through her body. Her heart slowly picked back up, pumping in her chest. He could hear the pat-a-pats. Her body slowly colored to pink from pasty white. He swallowed, looking down to her foot, not wanting to see, but needing to know. It had knitted back into flesh, back together and whole. He closed his eyes, leaning back on the bed. Relief surged in his veins. She hadn’t died. He hadn’t lost her. He thanked the gods he knew and some he didn’t. He opened his eyes, a hand gently stroking her throat as all her color rushed back into the skin that had been so pale. She opened her eyes, the green awareness a beautiful sight. He’d never thought he’d see it again. Now he wanted to stare into them for hours. “Rojo?” Her voice trembled. She coughed again. He wiped spittle from her chin. “Shhhh. You’re weak. We have to get blood in you first.” He gave her another couple of sips of his blood. Then, keeping the gun aimed, he swung her up in his arms, hoping it was enough for her until they were someplace safe. He wobbled on his feet, but stayed upright. “Now we have to get out of here.” Rojo re-shot a few of the guards who’d started to knit their wounds back together. He settled Crimson to the floor. “Hang on a minute.” He drained every guard he could find that he’d shot. The blood would help him restore himself. He’d needed a feed. They provided it. And he didn’t want Lang to have them to use against him.
Lang was a dead man walking. Lang wasn’t among the guards. Ward was missing. Rojo didn’t have time to look for him. Dammit, he’d probably gotten Lang out. Crimson shook her head as if clearing it, sitting on the floor where he’d laid her. Were his blood not so potent, she’d be in a coma, as much as she’d lost. No, she’d be dead were you not what you are. For the first time, he appreciated his abilities. He stalked back to her, slinging her up in his arms. “I can walk now,” she protested weakly, but her arms slid around his neck as if she couldn’t bear to lose contact. Nothing had ever felt sweeter. He planted a quick kiss on her lips, holding his gun where he could shoot it at anyone who attacked. “I know. But I want to carry you.” He wanted to tie her to him, take her now, leave his imprint, bind her to him in any way he could. Too damn bad there were no mating rituals for vampires. He took her out to the little Honda, placing her in the passenger seat after putting his shirt on her. Not that he wanted to cover her, but a naked woman in his front seat might cause a few questions. He drove toward Henri’s. They’d be safe there. They could get blood to rejuvenate both of them, and they would keep Crimson safe while he hunted down Lang.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
131
She sunk down in the seat. Her eyes glazed over. She slumped further down, head falling forward with a tired moan. “You need more blood.” He held out the arm he’d sliced. The blood had congealed, but her licking it would reopen the wound. Vampires had a chemistry set in their saliva. When wet, it kept blood flowing. When dry, it helped to form clots. She looked down at his arm as if it were a snake about to bite her. He moved it closer. “Quit moving it around, I’m not playing with my food.” Her sense of humor had rebounded. That was a good sign that she’d be OK. “You can play with me anytime. Go on, Crimson.” “You’re not worried? That I might ... errrr ... chew on you?” He heard her swallow deep and low in her throat. “No. I’m not worried. Eat, you need to build back up your strength.” The vampires had been enough to restore him. A good thing, as he and fainting didn’t go well together. “Rojo, how ... how did you do this? Rescue me? I was dead. Or at least ...” She licked lightly at the wound, her tongue barely rasping it. “I know I was dead and starting to feel the pain. Lang had killed me.” She suckled and then shook as the blood hit her system. Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God.” The first time had been so chaotic, she hadn’t noticed the aftereffects. “Lie back and let it take effect. Then you need some more.” Rojo pulled his arm back to put it on the wheel. “What are you? Your blood. Oh, my God.” She leaned back with the last repeated words, reclining her head as though it were spinning. He’d only seen a reaction to his blood once before, so it might be for all he knew. “I’m a Conduit, Crimson.” He focused on the road. “What? A Conduit?” “Yes. Like Copper.” “That’s why Lang wanted me. He thought I was one. You worked for him.” Her voice got small. The hurt rang through each word. And it sliced him apart more than the knife he’d used on himself at Lang’s. He cursed silently. He’d not wanted her to ever know what he’d done. “I did. He hired me to bring you in to him. I gave him back the money, though.” “So, all the talking and all the fucking we did, they were all part of some plan --” Her eyes teared up, one single tear running down her cheek. She ignored what he said about money, too steeped in her own hurt. “-- to get me to him.” “In the beginning, I made contact with you to take you to Lang. But nothing we shared was a part of that.” He turned sharply down a road. He’d taken many turns and detours, in case they’d been followed. Lang hadn’t been fatally shot, having moved. He would heal. And
132
Mechele Armstrong
he’d be pissed and out for Rojo’s ass. Once he got Crimson safe, he’d go after Lang himself and end it once and for all. “Why did you rescue me, Rojo? Why save me from someone who ...” He reached out the arm with the wound. “Drink more. Before you get too weak. You lost all your blood, Crimson. You were dead.” “I don’t understand.” She sucked greedily from him. “I don’t understand why you would save me from someone who hired you to bring him me.” “I love you.” She inhaled and her breath hitched in her chest, making a raspy noise. “What? What did you say?” “I love you.” He looked at the road, unable to take it if her eyes rejected him. “I said it at Lang’s, but you were too out of it to hear. I couldn’t lose you.” “You love me?” “That’s why I came to rescue you. I ... should have realized it earlier, taken more steps to protect you.” “You couldn’t have prevented it.” He heard her shift in the seat. “The whole time Lang was seeking me as a Conduit, you were one right under his nose.” She took a break, then licked again. “That’s pretty damn ironic.” Rojo nodded. “I didn’t know why he wanted you when he hired me. And once I found out, I didn’t want to deliver you.” He chuckled. “You are something else, Crimson Daly.” She blushed, looking down at his arm. “I love you, too, you know.” “I know.” He smiled at her. “You told me before you died.” He repeated something he wanted to make sure she heard. “I gave Lang his money back. I couldn’t deliver you.” She squeezed his leg, hand stroking his thigh. He focused on driving, not looking at the delectable woman in the seat next to him. She’d been dead, and still he wanted to jump her right here in the car. She drove him nuts, hopefully would for the next infinity. “When my maker, a two-bit vampire whore on the frontier, made me, she told me my lot in life. She’d keep me prisoner forever, using my blood to make herself stronger. And she said so would any other vampire who found out about me. ‘Get used to it, boy.’ That’s what Lang wanted to do to you.” His hands clenched on the steering wheel. “I ... didn’t want to deliver anyone to that.” “How did you manage to keep this a secret all these years?” “I don’t sleep with other vampires. You’re the only exception to that rule. The risk of them getting carried away and biting me during sex was too great. I never shared blood with anyone. And I told no one.” “You’ve had some long, lonely years.” It had been worth it to find this woman. She slid her hand on his knee and squeezed until it hurt. He snuck a look at her. She didn’t realize
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
133
how much strength she had from his blood. Filling her with it was bringing her strength back quickly. They’d both need more feeding before the day was over. “I had to protect myself. I had to survive.” “Your blood was what saved me, wasn’t it?” “It was the only thing I knew to do. I got there, and you were dying. I had to try something. I couldn’t sit there and watch you die.” He shuddered. They’d cut it way too close. “I didn’t know for sure if it would bring you back. You’d started to turn to ash.” Something he never wanted to see again. They pulled into Henri’s driveway. “When Lang finds out I’m alive, will he figure out how and why?” “He’s not a dumb vampire. Regardless, he’ll come for me. I have to go after him.” Rojo wouldn’t live any more years in hiding, traveling place to place. Not for his new life with Crimson, whatever that might hold. “We have to go after him.” Her head came up with determination evident in her eyes. He should have known she’d insist on coming with him. Damn stubborn wench. “You’re still weak.” He opened his door, beginning to slide out of it, and she grabbed his arm, pulling him back into the car. “I’m doing fine. With your blood rolling around my veins, I feel stronger than ever.” She turned her face up to his, sliding her lips across hers. He pulled her closer, growling at the feel of her kissing him. He’d never wanted anyone this much. His dick stood hard and at attention. His animal wanted to take her and rub himself all over her, making her his. And his human side needed her in a way that defied definition. “I need you in my life. I can’t lose you again.” Before he could kiss her any further, clicking heels on the sidewalk caught his attention a second before someone grabbed him, pulling him through the open door. He looked into the enraged eyes of Henri Baptiste, who put himself into a fighting stance. “Prepare to die, Rojo Rose.”
134
Mechele Armstrong
Chapter Fifteen It took a minute for Crimson to shake off the adrenaline high she was on and react to Henri readying to kill her lover. Rojo’s blood affected her better than any drug she’d ever had. It made her feel invincible. She’d noticed a cringe here and there from her touching him too hard. “What the fuck are you doing, Henri?” she screamed, getting out of her side of the car, rushing over to where the two men had squared off. Stupid question, he was going to beat Rojo to a pulp. “Stop it.” She danced back and forth on her bare feet, glaring at both of them. She hardly noticed the cold sidewalk under her. Did having a Conduit’s blood keep you warmer? She could see it increased stamina and energy. Nathan’s voice came from behind Henri, sounding harsh and deadly. “Let him.” “No!” Crimson pushed herself between her mentor and Rojo. Rojo grabbed her hips, trying to push her out of the way. “Cut it out.” She slammed her heel down on his foot. It must have been harder than she intended, because his hands tightened. Her feet were bare; he had on his boots. She’d have to watch what she did as long as his blood affected her. “Crimson, get out of the way,” Rojo grumbled from behind her through what sounded like gritted teeth. She wanted to apologize, but couldn’t turn her attention away from the raging vampire in front of her. “Mon Dieu, Crimson, move.” Henri brought his clenched hands up. His jaw was so tight, it looked like it might shatter. “No. What are you doing?” “Isn’t it obvious?” Rojo moved around beside her. “He’s going to kill me.” “For a good fucking reason.” Nathan paced back and forth around the group. “Kill the fucker and make it hurt.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
135
“Rojo, do you deny you work for Lang?” Henri spit out the words like they caused a bad taste in his mouth. “I worked for Lang. W-O-R-K-E-D.” Rojo put his hands back down by his side. “It’s past tense.” At least he wasn’t attacking back. Now if she could get Henri to back off while they explained, she’d be working miracles. Nathan wasn’t as close; she’d deal with him second. One problem at a time. “He doesn’t anymore. He saved me.” They wouldn’t pay attention, too much adrenaline, but she said it anyway. “That animal was going to deliver you to Lang. To be his Conduit.” Nathan flicked his gaze around them, aggression oozing out of every pore. “Crimson, back away from me.” Rojo put his hand on his sheathed knife. “I don’t want to hurt them, but I’m not going to let them kill me.” Henri babbled in French so fast that she couldn’t follow it. He intermixed words with guttural sounds that she couldn’t make out, but which didn’t sound like French. His agitation grew with each passing second. He clasped his hands together tightly as if trying to bring himself a measure of control. Crimson swallowed nervously, attempting to keep herself between Rojo and Henri. It was like in her room, only worse. Damn, they had to be in the driveway. Even late, sometimes people went out in suburbia. All she wore was Rojo’s long tunic shirt. He was bare-chested. That alone would attract attention even without the drama unfolding. Her eyes gazed at Nathan, who stood behind Henri, looking for a fight. If she didn’t do something it might happen. Shit. Last time he’d calmed Henri down. His contact had taken the piss right out of him. Only this time, he was as angry as Henri. Her head cocked to the side. Before, Nathan must have absorbed the angry energy out of Henri. He’d kept Henri’s beast from turning him mental, hence the instant calm. Nathan had to be one of those vamps that fed on more than blood. She stilled. Could he now be feeding Henri energy, the reverse of what he’d done before? Maybe that’s why Henri couldn’t get control of himself. She had to defuse the current situation. In desperate times, drastic measures were called for. She’d had enough of the male posturing. The longer they were out here, the more chance of being seen by humans. But right now, no one would listen to common sense. She walked over to Henri, put her hands on his waist as he growled at her and then lifted him up over her head. He peered down at her, his mouth hanging open. He warbled something in French. “Yes, I can pick you up tonight.” She set him roughly down on his feet. How long would this last? She’d have to ask Henri. Bench-pressing some guys at the YMCA would be
136
Mechele Armstrong
funny as hell to do. “This is a long story. We have prying eyes out here. Why don’t we go inside? Rojo and I can explain it all. But you have to not kill him.” “No explanation will stop me from killing him.” Nathan’s eyes shot darts through dark pupils. “Fine. You stay outside.” He blinked as he comprehended her words, eyes growing wide as he looked at her. “What?” “Stay outside. Freeze your ass off. Vampires do get cold. Do they get frostbite?” She canted her head to the side. “I can tell you, without Rojo, I wouldn’t be here right now. So until you hear the whole story, don’t be an asshole.” She grabbed Rojo’s hand, walking for the door. Glancing back at Henri, whose mouth had closed into a tight line, she muttered, “Are you coming or what?” “Merde.” Henri frowned, falling into step behind them. She and Rojo walked in the front door. After Henri entered, she pushed the door shut as Nathan sauntered up five steps behind Henri. His face held a shocked look at the door slamming. He knocked; it sounded like his hand would come through the door. “Crimson, let me the fuck in.” “Not until you promise to be nice.” “I’m always nice.” She snorted. “I want you to be nice to Rojo. We’ll explain everything.” “I’m not going to say it.” He pounded on the door some more. “Crimson.” Henri’s voice came from behind her. “Not until he promises.” She said it loud enough so Nathan could hear it. A grunt came from outside. “You didn’t make me promise.” She could hear Henri’s arched brow. He sounded so much calmer than outside. He’d finally gained his control back. Maybe not being in close proximity to Nathan had done it. “That’s because I know you’ll listen.” She emphasized listen for Nathan’s benefit. “You promise, or you don’t come in.” Growling each word, Nathan said, “I’ll be nice.” “You’ll listen.” “I’ll kick in the damn door.” She hit the door with her hand, making a thwack sound and letting him know she could hear. “Fine, I’ll listen.” She opened the door, smiling so sweetly her mouth ached. “Oh, good.” She turned to face Rojo and Henri.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
137
Rojo had a small half-smile on his face. “Is this what I have to look forward to?” She shook back her hair, heading for the kitchen. Her legs felt weighted, like she walked on stilts. “What do you mean?” “You ruling the roost?” “Damn straight.” Not that she would with him. But it would be a lot of fun trying. She could punish him when he’d been bad. Oh, yeah, Rojo tied up and at her mercy. Her eyes cut to his lanky body, that rippling chest over muscular legs. Topped with whipped cream. Oh, mercy. She licked her chapped lips. “You aren’t roosting with him.” Nathan folded his arms in front of his chest. “And put on some damn clothes. Especially if you’re going to be creaming.” He tossed her some red sweatpants she must have left down here. She pulled them up over her legs, keeping on Rojo’s shirt, though one of hers was down here, too. She liked his smell so close to her body, to her nose. So much for daydreams. She’d better keep her mind on things here so Rojo didn’t get filleted. “I say we should still kill the asshole. Even if it was in the past, he still did it.” Nathan still looked angry, but like Henri, it had faded a little. “And Crimson not talking to us forever would be a boon.” He stalked over to the fridge, his bare feet making soft sounds on the blue linoleum. “Shut up, Nathan. So how did you know Rojo worked for Lang?” They hadn’t known that when she’d seen them last. “I have my sources. They finally came through with information on Mr. Rose. I had queried around when your friendship started.” Henri sat down, the wooden chair creaking under him. “What happened?” She moved to take a chair, motioning for Rojo to sit beside her. He did, but positioned his seat so he had easier access to get past her. Such a predictable man. “Lola was the one who delivered me to Lang. She was a vampiress who could shield herself. He killed her. He did hire Rojo.” Both men growled. “But Rojo gave the money back to him.” “Lang thought Crimson was a Conduit?” Nathan trailed over with a cup of chocolate milk. He tossed two bags of blood at Crimson. “Why did you take the job?” “He believed she was like her sister.” Rojo put a hand on her knee, relaxing his frame a minute amount. “And I took it for the money.” Nathan banged his cup on the table, sloshing it. “You were going to sell her out for money?” “I was.” They locked eyes, which glittered in the low kitchen lights. Neither would look away. “But he didn’t,” she reminded Nathan, rolling her eyes at more male posturing. “Keep that in the front of your mind. I know it’s hard to get anything into that hard skull.” That
138
Mechele Armstrong
earned her a glare. She got up and grabbed two glasses before sitting down again. You could poke straws in blood bags like they were juice boxes. But she liked it better in a cup. “It doesn’t bother you that he was going to betray you?” Nathan wiped up some milk that had spilled from his banging of the cup. “Hand you over to Lang?” She finished pouring out the blood and swallowed; the sound snapped in the silence. “It did. But he saved me tonight. Without him, I’d have been dead. And he risked a lot coming for me.” He’d risked everything, especially with what he was. Had Lang discovered it, Rojo would have been in trouble. The betrayal stung, no way it couldn’t. But what he’d done for her tonight gave her warm feelings down deep inside, as did his words. She’d never been seriously told “I love you” by a guy before. And she’d never forget this first time. Rojo spoke quietly as he put his hand on her leg, squeezing it lightly. “I don’t apologize for what was. But what is is different.” She looked over at him. Damn, he was hot. She blew out a breath. This excess energy and strength wanted to blow out of her. She now understood men’s desire for sex after fighting. Henri tapped a finger on the table. “How long have you known you’re a Conduit?” Her eyes widened. No one had said a word about that to Henri or explained her picking him up. Sometimes what he could glean from a little bit of information was scary. She forced herself to keep her eyes away from Rojo and his yummy chest. Nathan sputtered, choking on his milk, snorting and gasping for breath. “A what?” Henri patted him forcefully on the back. “Since I was made. I killed my maker before she could share that information. And I made sure it was kept a secret.” Rojo took a quick sip from his cup. Nathan stared at Rojo like he’d sprouted horns and wings. He hadn’t been expecting Rojo to be a Conduit. They were rare; everyone had made a fuss over Copper at first. “Does Lang know?” Henri’s eyes turned thoughtful. “Is he still alive?” She put her hand on Rojo’s hand and squeezed. The contrasts struck her. His hand easily dwarfed hers. His knuckles and skin had worn rough, while hers were soft. Her skin had a pale tint, while his was so much darker. Her body would look so good against his. And she wanted to feel him against her, rub herself all over him. First, she had to go through the inquisition, and then she could have the pleasure. “Lang had no idea what Rojo was. But his blood saved me. So Lang may figure it out like you did.” “Lang’s alive.” Rojo growled. “But not for long.” She shivered. It had to be done. But she didn’t want to lose this. His hand stroked again, as if reassuring her all would be well. “So you’re a Conduit?” Nathan shook his head back and forth in disbelief, his hair tousling like a lion’s mane as he took it all in. “Damn.” “Crimson has sampled him. That’s how I know.” Henri’s eyes appraised her. “You took a lot from him.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
139
She patted her cheeks, feeling warmth in them. Were they rouged? “Yes, I did. How long will this last?” “She was dead, Henri.” Rojo leaned back in his chair. “I had to bring her back. It took a full feeding.” Henri stilled. “You’re sure she was dead?” Rojo’s head went up and down. “She’d begun to turn to ash.” “A Conduit’s blood brought back a dead vampire?” It hadn’t been notable for her. But from Henri’s reaction, it must be remarkable. She closed her eyes. Hearing about her own death made her woozier than the blood did. A little too surreal to be talking about so casually. Rojo squeezed her hand this time, running his large thumb along the side of it. “How long is this going to last? The power thing?” “Without knowing exactly how much you had, hard to say. But maybe at least twentyfour hours. I never knew a Conduit’s blood had such restorative powers. They’re so rare.” Henri’s sighed deeply and for a long time. “That will put newly discovered ones in more danger than ever before, if it gets out.” Rojo’s laugh sounded bitter as it bubbled up from his throat. “Bringing back Crimson ... was the best thing about being what I am.” She leaned over, kissing his cheek. He’d seen such pain. She could feel it in him. If only she could take it away. “Crimson, could Rojo be your mate?” Henri’s hopeful eyes met hers as she leaned back, stunned. She quickly looked away at Rojo. His impassive face showed none of his thoughts. She bit her lip, shaking her leg. The question incited nervousness. How on earth did she know? She’d never had a mate. “I ... don’t know. I know I couldn’t stay away from him. If that means anything.” Nathan winked at Henri. “From the first, I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. And he couldn’t keep his cock away from my a--” “Nathan.” Henri sighed, wiping his face with his hand. Nothing he hadn’t heard before. “Though true, must you?” “I must.” He made a kiss with his mouth at Henri. “What does it matter about a mate?” Rojo pulled away from her. “Not like that will stop anyone who comes after me. It will put Crimson at more risk with her being with me.” “Mon Dieu.” Henri breathed heavily. “You don’t know. No one ever told you about a Conduit because no one knew you were one, after your maker.” “Don’t know what?” Rojo’s eyes crinkled in more confusion. “A Conduit can bond with their mate and make their blood only powerful to that mate.” Henri leaned slightly back in his chair as if resting. “It’s a protection. Conduits are rare and ... can be well used or ill used. This gives them some hope of the former.”
140
Mechele Armstrong
“So ... if we use this ritual, then my blood is only powerful to my mate? Not any other vampire?” He had hope; she could feel the emotion beating in his chest. She rested her hand on his, lightly stroking it with her fingers. Such strong, beautiful hands. “Copper’s blood is only powerful to Bastian. That’s why no one comes after her.” “Well, damn, I thought you’d protected her well or something.” Rojo moved his hand and rubbed the flat plane of it on her leg. She ignored the shivers that started along her spine. She crossed her thighs, pushing them closer together, the sweatpants tight against her crotch. Maybe she should have put on the underwear down here. Amorous feelings were building up inside her. She might have to jump Rojo when they finally got left alone. Damn the important conversations. She put her mind back on task. “No. She’s bonded to Bastian. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard that.” Everyone had to have heard about it. Henri had pushed the tales of it in the vampire realm so that vamps wouldn’t come after Copper. Henri yawned, his fangs not even showing. Damn, the man was good. “He’s not had much contact with other vampires, Crimson.” Ah, yes, hard to be in on the gossip when you’re not a part of the rumor mill. Rojo’s eyes caught hers. Such vivid pools of hazel gleamed down at her. Reminded her of a forest, or a sea, which could either be stormy or tranquil. “Damn straight. I’ve avoided them as much as I can. What’s this bonding ritual like?” “It involves an invocation. And mixing of your blood. It’s not complicated. But it does conjoin your souls.” Henri rested an arm on the table, Nathan reached up to take his hand. He’d gotten quiet, unusual for Nathan. “What’s that mean?” “It means you die together. If one dies, the other dies. But you have to be mates for it to work.” She processed the note in Nathan’s voice, before Henri pulled him in for a kiss. Nick and Sarah had wanted to try and bond. Most vampires didn’t or couldn’t. But with her powers, they’d wanted to protect them. Some vampires could take on other’s powers. For one to find Sarah, it could be disastrous. As much as Nathan and Henri loved each other, she didn’t think they were bonded. She didn’t know if they could, which was a shame. “Are you two bonded?” Rojo sat up straighter in his chair, asking the question that was on her mind. He’d gotten more blood and gulped it down; now he was on his third bag. Nathan leaned in closer to Henri. “Do we tell them?” Henri hesitated, as if thinking it over. Then he nodded. “Yes.” “This doesn’t leave this room.” Nathan’s sapphire eyes took on an unprecedented seriousness. “Yes. We’re bonded.” “I thought only Conduits could? You weren’t sure that Sarah and Nick would be able to.” Crimson frowned. This was new.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
141
“There are types of ‘special’ vampires like Conduits. Sarah is a whole new class of them. I’ve never encountered anything like her.” Henri smiled a smile full of adoration at Nathan. “I’d never encountered anyone like Nathan, either, before we met. Nathan is a Receptor. He can feed from feelings, take the energy from people. Sometimes he can project intense feelings to others, especially sexual ones.” “That’s why in my room, he came in. He took off your anger.” Accomplishment filled her. She’d figured out something before she was told, which didn’t happen often. “How many special cases are there?” “I don’t know how many special kinds of vampires there are. I don’t think anyone does. It’s not something we talk about either. I only tell my protégés about them when necessary. Too many special cases have gotten used and abused. Conduits are the most well known. Widespread knowledge of the rest could be a danger to them. “ Henri nodded, leaning forward, emphasizing his words. “He did take off my rage the day I found out Lang was after you. My emotions run high. They always have. Nathan keeps them at a level I can master. He’s my perfect mate.” Nathan’s grin shot wide. “Duh, I’m the only one who would put up with such an old fart.” Henri’s eyes rolled. “You’re a brat.” “But you love me.” “Yes. Yes, I do.” Henri reached out, stroking Nathan’s face gently. Nathan puckered his lips and placed a light kiss on Henri’s hand. “That’s why you can eat so much chocolate and not feel sick.” Crimson chuckled. “I always wondered about that. Do you send feelings his way, too?” “Because I don’t consume as much blood as other vampires, yes, I can eat more real food. Occasionally, I do project instead of taking in. Usually when the emotion is strong or sexual. While I can project to others, Henri is the only one I can feed from.” Nathan picked up his milk and polished it off. “Only these special cases of vampires can bond. We aren’t sure why no others can. It’s something Henri and I have been researching.” So many mysteries to being a vampire. They didn’t know where they’d even come from. She didn’t care right now. All she wanted was to have some good, fucking sex with her mate. And bond him to her forever. Rojo had to be her mate. Damn, she’d never had a relationship last for years. But somehow talking about Rojo and forever didn’t scare her. And it would protect him. “How do we bond? What are the words to say?” Rojo licked his lips, his tongue swiping a path across them. “We have time to bond, Crimson. Let’s not do it tonight.” Her whole body dragged down under the weight of her disappointment. “Oh. OK.”
142
Mechele Armstrong
Chapter Sixteen Rojo closed his eyes. Might as well have taken a knife and plunged it into the heart of Crimson Daly. Probably would have hurt her less than what he’d done. He opened his eyes, and in front of her friends, grasped her face in his hands, centering on her tiny chin. “I will make you mine, Crimson. But not tonight.” She nodded, but her eyes remained shadowed. Nothing would please him more than becoming bonded to Crimson. It would connect them in ways he couldn’t imagine. And it would protect him from those who would take away his happiness to gain their own power. He’d worried about how he would protect Crimson if the news got out what he was. Then the conjoined life threads were mentioned. And it had cored out his insides. He planned to pursue Lang. No way would he start his new life and have that over his head. Bonding would risk Crimson -- not an acceptable risk. He was arrogant enough to think he’d win and kill Lang, but not arrogant enough to risk Crimson’s life. There could be no bonding until Lang was dead. Even he saw the irony. He’d never cared about anyone but himself and saving his own skin. Now, the best way to keep him safe would most risk the one person he refused to put in danger. He couldn’t tell her. She would insist on going with him to finish it. He couldn’t involve the others either. This was his fight. “It’s late.” Dawn approached. The sky grew lighter in shades of pink on the eastern horizon, striped with silvery white clouds. Henri let loose another yawn. “I know you’re tired, Rojo Rose, from your blood loss, even though you’ve fed a lot. Let’s get some sleep. We’ll discuss the best way to deal with Lang this evening.”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
143
He stood up, hands falling by his side. He intended to be hunting Lang by then. He’d leave Crimson with them for safety. Best they didn’t know his plans either. “OK. Baby, are you ready to settle in?” Crimson bit her lip, the sight of it making his dick twitch. His stomach tightened. “I think so.” Nathan let out a mock gasp. “You two are going to sleep? That’s a waste of time.” He leaned in closer to Henri. “I don’t think we’ll get any sleep this day.” His voice deepened to a husky pitch. Henri leaned over and nipped his neck, eliciting a big shudder down Nathan’s lanky frame. “No, I don’t think we will, mon amoureux.” “Hey, where’s my sister?” Crimson pushed to her feet. “And Bastian?” Rojo had noticed their absence as well. “They went to a mountain lodge for some night skiing yesterday. They’ll be back today after nightfall.” Henri placed his hands on the table. “Copper needed some time to think. We hadn’t called her yet to tell her you were missing when Rojo brought you home.” “Thank God.” Crimson grabbed Rojo’s hand and held it tightly. Not too hard this time. Maybe it was wearing off. Or maybe she was learning. “Copper’s freak-out would have been enormous.” And Copper would never have forgiven him, probably still wouldn’t if she got the full report even though Nathan and Henri had settled down. Henri held out his hand to Rojo. “Thank you. For saving her.” His smile looked genuine. Firmly, Rojo’s hand met his. He’d never shaken hands with anyone before. “It was my pleasure.” His eyes turned to the tall, slender woman next to him. It had definitely been his pleasure. The world wouldn’t be the same without her in it. Her eyes shone up at him with love. A spark of doubt still resided there. Only one way to ease it, and he couldn’t do that. Yet. But when he came back ... He should leave now, not make mad senseless love to her. But being with her beckoned to him; he couldn’t resist one more time. Especially on the chance, no matter how remote it was, it might be his last. Nathan looked up to Rojo as he stood. “I don’t know whether to kiss you or beat you up.” Henri stood up, too. “Nathan, blow it out your ear.” Crimson grumbled as Nathan leered at them. “Not doing any blowing his way.” His eyes raked over Henri with such heat it was almost palpable. Rojo’s skin prickled with desire. Could Nathan be projecting again? “However, I will be doing all sorts his way.” He winked as he beckoned to Henri to follow him. “Come on, old one.” Henri’s steps quickened away from the table behind Nathan. “Good night, Crimson and Rojo.”
144
Mechele Armstrong
“Niters.” Crimson’s eyes peered up at Rojo, shining so bright in the dawning light. “So ... are you ready to go bed?” He nodded, mouth drying up like his tongue had been covered in sandpaper. “Not to sleep.” She smiled, her fangs glinting in her mouth. “I didn’t say to sleep.” Her expression grew to one of mischief. She lightly tapped his arm. “Tag.” One eyebrow arched higher than the other. “Tag?” “Yeah. It’s a game.” He shook his head, letting her know he had no clue what she talked about. “Oh, for cripe’s sake. Everyone should have played tag at least once.” “I’ve never played a lot of games.” “No shit.” She clucked her tongue, winking at him. “We will. I can think of lots of games for bad boys.” Rojo chuckled. “Like you’re a good girl?” She was his angel, the best thing about his life. But a good girl she was not. Her long eyelashes batted at him. “Oh, I’m good alright.” Her voice took on a coquettish quality. It affected him; indeed, it was quite stimulating ... He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So how do you play tag?” He moved the chair out of the way so he could get to her easier. She laughed, the sound rich and deep in her throat. She pushed up to her feet. “I tag you like this.” Her hand touched his arm. “Then you try to tag me.” “That’s it?” “Pretty much.” “Well, damn, I thought it was something sexual.” He huffed out a breath. “Let a guy down, why don’t you?” The same hand that had tagged him raked up and down his chest, scraping one nipple with her fingernail. He shuddered, the sensations shooting off nerve impulses he felt all the way down to his toes. “The way I play, I think you might enjoy it.” She tapped his arm lightly. “Tag.” She dashed off, her bare feet scampering on the floor with pat-pat sounds. He gave her a minute’s head start and then followed. He’d catch her. She knew it, he knew it. The fun would be in the hunt. He’d heard moans coming from the direction where Henri and Nathan had stalked to. Retiring to their room, they would be too involved in their own sexual play to notice what he and Crimson did, leaving the house free for anything. Anticipation quickened his heartbeat and his steps. Now where had his little minx gotten off to?
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
145
Her pants lay on the floor in the living room. His hand swung down to pick them up. He held them to his nose and sniffed. The musky smell intoxicated him. She hadn’t worn anything under them. Which meant she now walked around bare-assed, with her pussy bare for all to see. He’d had such a hard time keeping his hands off of her in the car with her nude body beside him. Had the danger and her need to feed not been so great, he’d have acted on it. But adrenaline had centered him on getting her to safety. Now his hands could go anywhere. They would go everywhere. Dropping the pants, his stride quickened its pace, eyes darting around to look in every nook of the room. His head swiveled, poised to spring when he heard a bump upstairs. He stalked up the steps, taking them two at a time. His shirt lay outside a shut door in the upstairs hallway. Now this was the way to play tag. Maybe it was strip tag combined with little hide and seek? Yeah, this would be a game they played often. Her tits were bared now, no bra underneath that shirt. They’d be ready for his touch, swaying softly as she walked or jiggling as she ran. Those rose-colored nipples would be aching for his tongue. His heart pounded a fast rhythm. He pushed open the door. The room had shades to block out the sunlight. His predatory eyes peered in the dimness, seeking his prey. He’d walked into a room of roses. He grinned, a Rose in a rose room. Letting the door shut behind him, he flipped the lock. Then he spotted what took his breath away. His heart forgot to beat as his eyes viewed the loveliest creation that had ever been made. Crimson lay on the bed, on her side, one leg flat, the other bent and raised. She ran a hand down her flat stomach, calling attention to her sex even before her hand grazed her pussy and rested on top of her sleek leg. “Hello, Rojo.” “Hello, baby.” He took two steps closer to his redheaded temptress, stopping as she spoke again. Her lips pulled up into a grin. “You haven’t tagged me yet.” Her voice teased, full of innuendo. “Oh, I’m going to tag you alright. Tag with you something hard and heavy.” Two more strides had him at the bed’s edge. He put one knee down on the firm mattress. It dipped under his weight. “I hope so. But you need to lose something.” Her eyes gleamed even in the darkness. A fire rested in her soul, banking in that beauty, reflecting in her eyes. And God knows, he wanted to be burned in it, wanted to be consumed by it. He leaned back, arching an eyebrow. “What?” “The pants.” She reached out a hand, pulling on the side of the waistband so that it snapped lightly back into place when she let it go.
146
Mechele Armstrong
“Now that I can do.” He shucked off his pants quickly, shaking them over his ankles. His dick sprang free, enjoying the release from the confining material, hard as it had been all evening, and jiggling with his dance moves. Her eyes were trained on his dick, her pink tongue slipping out to daintily lick her lips. The motion went like a zing to the end of his rod. His balls tightened. One look, and he wanted to be inside her so bad. He could almost feel the swipe of her tongue on his cockhead. “I thought you could. I love commando.” She rolled further over onto her back. “Come tag me, baby.” He prowled up her body. Where to begin? He nuzzled her neck with an upward motion, inhaling deeply. Her rose perfume and the sweet, underlying womanly smell enticed his senses. She’d reapplied some perfume before he’d gotten to her room. Did she have any idea how her scent affected him? Saucy woman. “You smell good.” He licked along the curve of her neck, licking and nibbling in the wake of his nose. “Your nose is cold.” She shivered, exhaling deeply along his shoulder. A rush of air tickled it. Then he heard her inhalation combined with another shiver. “You smell wonderful.” He lowered himself to his side, laying his body along her frame. His hand followed much the same path her own hand had taken earlier, but he started higher, skirting her breasts and teasing her nipples with his palm. They elongated to hard nubs. Then his hand slipped down her stomach, loving the satin skin under his fingertips. She jerked as his touch reached the jut of her pelvic bone, above where the rough hair began. “Tagging me now?” Her voice had gotten even throatier than before. “Hell, no.” His finger pushed into part her folds, flicking her clit immediately. Hot silk enveloped his finger. So warm, so inviting. His hips thrust against her, his dick ramming her thigh. “He’ll do the tagging.” “He better do it soon.” Her hips arched off the bed, rubbing against his finger as if asking it to touch more. “You better fuck me soon.” Her slick heat spurred him on. The finger wasn’t satisfying her right now. They’d shot past foreplay with need. After all they’d been through tonight, he needed to make his mark on her. He needed to be inside her -- now. He moved on top in a flash, probing her entrance with the head of his dick. He felt its slickness from the leaking pre-come. “I need ...” She laughed shakily as though it wobbled along her pipes. “I need it, too. Now.” She gasped, ending on a moan as he slipped inside her, burying himself inside her molten, velvet depths.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
147
He thrust against her as she moved to meet him. The in and out friction was sweet torture. She gripped so tightly around him with her walls. Each pass he made purred down deep inside him. “Oh, you’re so inside. Oohhhhh.” Her voice box sent out a sound much like a purr, low and deep in her throat. He’d never made a woman do that before. As the sound registered, her deep voice sent him over the edge, his orgasm taking him wholly by surprise. Never had he come so explosively, so fast. He barely had time to recognize the desire to bite her at climax and no time to act on it. Dammit, he’d wanted more time in her, more time to revel in her body, to slide in and out of her wonderful pussy. Not to mention he’d wanted to send her over the edge, too. “Wow.” Crimson’s spoke breathlessly. He collapsed on top of her, taking a moment’s rest. “Yeah, wow.” His dick still rested inside her. “You don’t screw around when you play tag. Well, I guess you do screw. But not like that ...” “Damn straight.” He lowered his mouth to slide slowly against her lips. His tongue quested inside to spiral around hers, tasting her. Her sweet, succulent taste reminded him of the fresh baked bread he’d had as a boy, simply because it tasted so good. As a child, nothing had tasted better to him, the only thing his mother made and gave him freely. Crimson’s rough tongue met him match for match, sometimes playing tag, other times circling around his gently. He hardened again within her dripping channel. Her breathing lowered in sound and increased in pace. “I see you have a short recovery time.” “I think you feel, not only see.” He moved slowly against her, thrusting, building the pace until it was time. Her orgasm hovered close in the wings, waiting. He pulled out, lifting up on his knees. “Flip over.” This ought to be explosive. Not to mention push her over her edge into abandonment. Her dark eyes met his. “What?” “Flip over.” He put a hand on her curved hip to guide her. He loved her slender firmness. After a pause of hesitation, she went along with his hands. “If you’re taking me in the ass, you need lube.” Her voice snapped ragged against his senses. She sounded a little panicky as if that was the only thing he could do where he was. She didn’t have lube in her room, not from that reaction. He didn’t have any on him. “No, baby. No ass.” Though it would be something they’d try. Later, once she trusted him completely.
148
Mechele Armstrong
He widened her knees as she crouched in front of him. Her ass cheeks rounded, inviting his mouth. He shifted back, nipping one cheek. “Hey.” She slid forward on the bed, turning back around to glare at him. “You startled me.” “Sorry.” He leaned forward, kissing where he’d nipped to sooth it. His tongue tickled her, lapping up to where her rose tattoo began. “Better?” She snorted, her head still cocked around to look at him. “No.” He nipped again, chuckling at her yelp. Seeing her face was difficult, but he could hear her. “You will be.” He grinned at her, making it wide, graveling his voice like Yoda. “You will be.” “What are you going to do?” Her voice didn’t have the panic it had earlier. But it still had mistrust. “I’m not taking you up the ass. I already said that.” His hand stroked along her hip. “Do you trust me?” She sat further down, body sagging. “I trust you. I ... I had a boyfriend who ... well ... it wasn’t pleasant. It was supposed to hurt, though.” “This will be all sensation. No pain, I promise.” He helped her back up on her knees, spreading them apart, shifting her hands forward. His fingers inched forward as he leaned back to get better access. He twirled them into her opening from behind. She was still wet. But he wanted his promise of no pain accurate. He lowered his head down below her ass cheeks and plunged his tongue into her pussy. His hands held her hips, keeping her steady as he enjoyed her taste, sliding his mouth back and forth against her. Immediately, her body tightened as her orgasm gripped her. He didn’t let her tremors finish, but instead lifted up and guided his dick where his mouth had been. A light pop sounded as he slipped into her slick tightness. “Oh, my God.” Her whole body continued to shake as he moved against her, quickening the pace. “You’re so thick inside me.” “Yeah.” So close. God, he was so close again. Her tight walls felt so good containing him. He slammed into her, pounding his dick in and out, as she leaned back further against his body. He slid one hand across her hip and found her clit. He used his fingers to stroke the sensitized piece of skin. She groaned loudly, her body straightening with tension as another orgasm barreled through her.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
149
That was it. Her pleasure sent him over the edge. He lost control, his balls slapping against her ass cheeks. The desire to bite, to take her blood, hit him full force, making him shake as his orgasm loomed closer and closer. “Do it.” She knew the wants of a vampire at orgasm time. He had her permission. Groaning, he gave into the sensations. He sank his fangs deep into her shoulder near her new tattoo as the orgasm shattered him, breaking him into shards, his seed spurting into her, as her blood leaked into his mouth. It was frenzied, the actions unavoidable. The last shudder wracked his body with one final slam into her. He disengaged his dick. Without a word, they sank onto the bed. They rearranged themselves so that he lay on his back with her cuddled up beside him. The quiet took them into its soft darkness. Both of them panted, bodies slippery with sweat. Their first time had been something. This was phenomenal. Crimson broke the silence first, her voice hoarse and lethargic. “You’re incredible.” He took her hand in his, which rested on his chest, lifting up to plant a small kiss on her knuckles. “No more than you.” “Are we going to do that again tonight?” “Once I can see we will. I think you blinded me. Blinded me with sex.” She snickered. Then her voice grew serious. “I don’t think I’ll be able to resist biting you next time like I could our first time. The only thing that kept me not sinking fangs in this time was that you were behind me.” “Don’t resist it.” He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. “Do it.” “I’ll ...” His blood would energize her some more, making her feel rejuvenated even after a night of hard sex. “I know. I don’t mind.” He didn’t mind the intimacy of her feeding from him. Not something he’d ever expected. It was much later before she finally drifted off in his arms. He watched as sleep overtook her, her eyelids shuttering down. She looked so lovely and peaceful. He fixed that image in his mind to remember it for all eternity. Then kissed her forehead gently, sliding out of her bed, thankful for the meals he’d had that had restored him so he didn’t have to sleep. He covered her with blankets and quietly slid out of the house an hour before sundown.
150
Mechele Armstrong
Chapter Seventeen The rose glistened in the fluorescent lights. It shone much brighter than they did. Crimson had to shade her eyes. It was so beautiful. She’d never seen anything like it. She glanced around. The flower rested on the floor in an empty warehouse. Coldness and concrete rested all around it. Chains locked to a pole held the stem in place. She reached out to touch it, stroking the velvet petals, letting its leafy stems wrap around her. Her pussy wept, wanting. She wanted this in a way that defied explanation. The bee came out of nowhere, slamming into the flower face. It ripped its stinger through the petals, stems, through the back of the flower. “Noooooo.” With a start, she woke up in her bed. Her eyes closing, Crimson rolled over in the bed, her leg traveling out of the covers. The coldness of the room goose-pimpled her skin, so the leg scooted back under. Her hand searched out from her body expecting to find Rojo’s hard body next to hers, only to reach the edge of the bed to find no Rojo. Her eyes flashed open. Dammit. Rojo was gone again. “I’m going to duct tape him to the bed.” She grumbled, squeezing her pillow in frustration. Of course, him tied to the bed would be a good thing. She could have all sorts of fun. Last night had been incredible. But where had he gone to? Surely he wasn’t allergic to waking up in bed with her?
No, he’s not one to stick around. Ever. Bull. She blew off her crappy voice, sliding out of bed to her feet. The effects of Rojo’s blood still rolled around her veins, making her feel like she could do anything. Maybe bench
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
151
pressing those guys at the YMCA would happen after all. She’d had another feed from Rojo during the night while having sex. So the effects would be lasting that much longer. She had grown accustomed to it and was more aware of her own strength now. She was amazed she’d slept at all. She heard voices downstairs. Rojo must be down there with the rest. She would give him “what for” for leaving her so early in the day. Locating some sweats, she headed on downstairs. Henri sat at the kitchen table, while Nathan got out a chocolate cupcake. Both were clad in PJ bottoms. She didn’t see her lover anywhere in the kitchen. “Where’s Rojo?” She yawned, opening the fridge and almost yanking the door off the hinges. OK, maybe she wasn’t adjusted to this. “Last time I saw him, you two were going off to make mad monkey love.” Nathan sat down beside Henri, tearing into his cupcake. “Like we were.” “He wasn’t there when I woke up this evening.” Henri’s face changed to fleeting concern. “He’s not down here, Crimson. I haven’t seen him since last night.” “He wasn’t in my room. He wouldn’t be anywhere else upstairs.” She slammed the fridge door. Fright bore down hard on her. “Where could he be?” She darted to the bottom of the steps, yelling his name, and got nothing from upstairs or downstairs. All his scents were old. He wasn’t in the house. Her stomach rolled around along with her heart, sloshing from side to side. “Maybe he’s out in the greenhouse?” She leaped to her feet, yanking open the back door. What if Lang had him? No, there would have been a struggle, they’d have heard something. Rojo wouldn’t have gone willingly with Lang. She shivered, remembering her dream. She hadn’t been in the greenhouse since things with Lola. Her feet stalled, but she wouldn’t let them stop. Swallowing a breath and her pride, she burst into it. She’d seen nothing moving around in there, so no surprise, no one resided in her greenhouse. Her nose twitched as scents came toward her nostrils. The rose scent couldn’t cover up an old, lingering scent of Rojo. The last time he’d been in there was when they’d made love. But nothing remained of Lola no matter how hard she snuffled. Rojo’s visit had been prior to Lola. His scent shouldn’t be there, unless he’d been in there since then. The envelope sat propped up on her planter’s table.
See, you aren’t even worth his time to leave you in person. Why do you think he wouldn’t bond with you? It had kicked her in her teeth when he’d nixed bonding with him. It would have protected him, so why wouldn’t he want to do it? Unless he didn’t want to be connected to her for all eternity.
152
Mechele Armstrong
Her shaking fingers grasped the envelope and then slowly peeled back the flap to take out the note.
Crim, I’ll be back. I had to go take care of something. Rojo Take care of something? What the hell was so important that he’d left her bed to go do it? The truth dawned on her causing her heart to race, her hand to tighten on the note with a grip so strong it turned her knuckles white. Lang. He’d left to take care of Lang. He hadn’t wanted to bond with her because he hadn’t wanted to endanger her. Had they bonded, their lives would have been conjoined.
Damn him. She would have gone with him to help defeat the man who’d done so much to pull them apart, all the while, unexpectedly, pushing them together. And Rojo had known that. “Stupid man.” She could have been a help to him with his Conduit’s power running in her veins. She was not some simpering little flower who needed to be left at home while the man went out and did men’s work. She was going to kill him when she found him. Lang better not kill him first.
***** Crimson stalked back to the house, fists still clenched in anger. How long would her Conduit’s powers last? She didn’t know, but she needed to find Lang fast. If she found him, she’d find Rojo. “Not there? He’s gone, isn’t he?” Nathan drummed his fingers on the kitchen table. The thumping sound frayed her already worn nerves. She glared, and he stopped. He’d changed into jeans and a St. Louis Cardinals t-shirt. “No.” She turned to Henri, who wore his black pants and a white sweater. “I need a big favor.” “What favor?” Copper ambled into the kitchen, sliding her feet as if she were still on skis. Her outfit looked like something good to ski in, and she’d dressed all in black. Good
evening, sis.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
153
“I didn’t know you were back.” Ignoring Copper’s question, to Henri she directed, “I need you to locate Lang, Henri. Pull out all the stops. He’s holed up in a warehouse somewhere.” She had to trust the dream. It was all she had. “You think Rojo went after Lang?” Henri picked up his cell phone, his face thoughtful as if considering his options. “I sure do.” Her heart told her that’s where Rojo had gone. She was right. Damn fool Rojo was, taking being a hero too far. Henri dialed his phone, pushed away from the table and stepped out of the room. He had lots of sources. Surely he could locate one pissy vampire. “How was your trip?” Nathan asked, leaning back in his chair. “Where’s Bastian?” Copper had a thoughtful look of her own. “We got in only a few minutes ago. It was a good getaway. Bastian went to go find our blood delivery that was supposed to come today.” Copper looked at each of them, staring as if trying to get an idea of what had happened in her absence. “Rojo went after Lang? Why? What’s happened?” Copper surveyed the fridge and took out a blood bag. “It’s the last one. I hope Bastian gets an answer.” She began to open the top. “The CliffsNotes version is that Lang had me for a little while.” Her sister gasped, dropping the bag on the floor. Blood spurted everywhere. “I’m fine, Copper. Rojo saved me.” Nathan quirked an eyebrow up at her. So she’d left out some details. Excuse her if she didn’t want to get into a fight while Rojo was missing. She’d prefer to stew in her own worry juices. Copper grabbed bunches of dishtowels and got on her hands and knees, trying to wipe up the spill. She mouthed to Nathan, “She doesn’t need the whole story.” They were on shaky enough footing as it was. She’d prefer to stave off the freak-out and stay on the shaky footing rather than approach collapsed relationship status. “What don’t I need to know?” Copper bit her lip, looking up even as she pushed the towel back and forth across the floor, wiping up the liquid. She looked guilty. It tugged at Crimson’s resolve. But she didn’t need an argument right now. “Everything. You don’t need to know everything here. I told you the important bits. What you needed to know.” Copper glanced down, focusing on her job, her voice shaky. “Sis, I know I’ve been hard on you lately.” “No shit.” She didn’t try and hide her agreement. Copper had been ruthless even before Rojo had shown up. “More than hard.” “I’m sorry.” She had been gearing up for an argument. That stopped her cold. It wasn’t anything she’d expected to hear. “What?”
154
Mechele Armstrong
“I’m sorry.” Copper stood up slowly, dumping the towels in the sink under cold running water. She took a step toward Crimson, but stopped short of touching her. “I did a lot of thinking while I was gone. I’ve been wrong.” “Wow. Ummm ... I didn’t expect this.” She’d always thought Copper would feel so in the right she’d never see how she’d been wrong. “Crimson, I don’t want to lose you. Once is too much. It tore me apart when you died.” Copper’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “I got so scared when Henri called me about Paris. All I could think about was protecting you, how I hadn’t been there and that I needed to do better. But that’s not my job. I see that now.” She took the two small steps to envelope her sister in a hug. “No. No, it’s not your job. I can look after myself.” “I know. I’ll be better, I promise. I won’t be perfect. But I’ll be better.” Copper hugged her back tightly, tears spilling out onto Crimson’s sweater. “So what’s up with Rojo? Spill it all.” She filled Copper in on all the events leading up to Rojo’s disappearance. Her sister had little reaction except for a gasp to the news that Rojo was a Conduit. Maybe that in itself would help them find a common ground. Only after the tale had been told, leaving nothing out, did Copper say anything. “You’re sure he’s the one for you?” She took a deep breath. They still held hands, sitting at the kitchen table. Crimson nodded solemnly. Copper’s reaction would determine if her sister had a place in her life. If she couldn’t accept Rojo, then they had a problem. She intended to bond with Rojo as soon as he was safely back, to keep him safe from those who would do him harm. Then she was going to kill him for scaring her, but that was a different matter. “I can’t say I like him.” Copper shrugged, her voice heavy. “I know he saved you. But he would have given you to Lang at first. I don’t know that I trust him yet.” Crimson’s heart began to beat at a rapid pace, but stilled at Copper’s next words. “But he did save you. And you love him and trust him. I can see all that in your face. I’ll accept his place in your life. For now.” “Thank you.” She hugged her sister tightly, squeezing her. It was all she could ask for. Not perfect, there’d still be tension, but she’d take what she could get. Her life was rarely perfect. “And he and I can commiserate that you and Bastian get all the power from us.” Copper pushed back her hair with a grin. “Awwwww. What a Hallmark moment.” Nathan made puking sounds as he went to the fridge. “I’ll look for it as a TV movie coming next fall. Since you dropped our last blood bag, I’ll have more chocolate to go along with the sap.” He sat back down with the acquired chocolate.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
155
They both rolled their eyes at him. Bastian came in the front door, sauntered into the kitchen. “Hey. Sorry it took me so long. There was a murder down in the warehouse district near the blood bank. Sounded like a bad one. It’s why our blood delivery had been delayed.” He set a special coolant bag on the counter, walking away to put his coat on the chair before he sat down. Henri walked back in the kitchen, setting his phone on the counter and sitting down next to Nathan. “I have feelers out, Crimson. It’s the best I can do right now. Bastian, did you get our blood delivery straight?” “Feelers?” Bastian glanced back and forth from Crimson to Henri. “Yeah, I got it. There was a murder nearby. It held our contact up. “ Henri frowned and didn’t answer Bastian’s question on what was going on. “How would that hold up our contact?” Bastian shrugged, leaning forward in his seat. “Because it was him who got murdered. It sounded like a bad crime scene, too. But I managed to get our delivery away from the police and bring it home.” “Any ideas who killed him?” Copper got up and went over to open the bag. She pulled out several blood bags and put the rest in the fridge. Crimson sighed. She wanted Rojo found. God, what if he had already found Lang? Her powers still hadn’t worn off, but no telling how much longer it would last. She wanted extra oomph in this confrontation. She got up, taking her bag from Copper. Copper smiled at her, a sisterly affection smile that she was glad to see. She closed the coolant bag and stopped, staring at it. A familiar scent wafted lightly to her nostrils. She knew that scent. What was it? She cocked her head to the side, sniffling inside the bag. It was Ward’s scent. She froze, sniffing heavily again, trying to collect as much of the surrounding air as she could inside her nose. Bastian had launched into his story of the authorities not knowing who had killed the delivery man. She interrupted, “Was this bag with our inside man when he died?” “Sure was, Crim.” He sighed. “He was a good man. With a family. I’m sure they will be taken care of, I’ll see to it. Vamp friendly. It will take us a while to find another connection. Glad the bag kept stuff cool long enough for me to find it.” She turned to fully face all of them. She had a clue. Not much to go on, but it was something. Her pulse speeded up again, mouth dry with anticipation. This could help her find Rojo. “Crimson, what’s on your mind? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” Henri took a bag Copper handed him, as did Bastian, as she sat back down.
156
Mechele Armstrong
“Not seen a ghost. Smelled a vampire.” She pointed to the coolant bag, her finger shaking slightly. She quickly put her hands back down by her side. “One of Lang’s minions. He handled it. The scent is faint, but it’s there.” “There is a scent beyond the man I knew. I noticed that, too.” Bastian yawned, scratching briefly at his arm. He regarded her with curiosity. “How do you know one of Lang’s men’s scents?” “He was one of the two who tried to get me at the Y. Do you remember where the murder scene was? Can you take me there?” If she could find the place where this had happened, she might be able to find Rojo and Lang. “Is there a warehouse near by?” “Yeah. I remember, and there are lots of warehouses close by.” Bastian nodded, cutting open the bag Copper had handed him. “I can take you back there. But why?” “This one would probably be abandoned.” It had been empty in the dream. “So that I can find Rojo. I bet Lang’s minion killed our supplier. The bastard. Probably because Lang thought it would be ironic to kill a blood bank worker and leave all the blood bags.” That seemed like a Lang thing to do. Not that she knew him well. “They have to be staying close by that blood bank.” “Find Rojo?” Bastian blinked, tapping a finger on the back of Copper’s chair. “How does that lead you to Rojo?” “Long story.” Copper finished off her meal with a hurried gulp, wiping a napkin across her face. She got up and wiped down the table before sitting back down. Crimson polished off the last sips of hers, too. Rojo’s blood tasted sweeter. Forget the power, she liked his blood because it was from him, because he shared it with her. She’d been the first in a long time to take his blood. Surely over one hundred years made him a born-again blood virgin. “I’ll fill you in on the way there.” Copper patted Bastian’s cheek with her palm, slowly stroking upwards until he pulled away. Crimson’s head came up. The way there? What the fuck did that mean? Surely it didn’t mean Copper planned to come with her. Obviously reading her look, Copper piped up with information. “Oh, yeah, we’re coming with you.” She looked around the table at each of the men, meeting their eyes and arching a brow. “Aren’t we, guys?” “No.” Nathan grinned, his entire being teasing. He shook back his long mane of hair before grabbing a ponytail holder and putting it up. “Shut up. And you are.” Copper reached over and pinched his arm. “Quit being a pain in the ass.” “Owww. No one appreciates me.” Nathan rubbed the affected limb. “And why ask if we don’t get a choice of whether to go or not?”
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
157
“Because ... I wanted you to feel as though you had a choice. Even though you didn’t. We’re all going.” Copper got up, pushing her chair back under the table with a clack where it impacted the table. “So let’s go.” “Oh, well, that makes a lot of sense.” Nathan rolled his eyes. “So sue me for questioning you.” “Sis. You don’t have to come. None of you do. This is my fight.” Crimson didn’t want them to come if they didn’t want to. She had to go find her mate, find her lover. She didn’t know what she’d find. Parts of it scared her. She’d be facing down the man who’d killed her once. She’d been dealing with Rojo’s betrayal and too hyped up on adrenaline to deal with her emotions over that tidbit. “That Conduit blood won’t last forever, you know. You need someone to help you. To look after your back.” Copper folded her arms in front of her chest. She looked determined and willful. Copper wasn’t backing down this time. Crimson didn’t have time to argue. “We want to help Rojo.” Henri got up, his eyes shadowed with concern. “I’ll go get a few weapons. Shall I pick up something for you, Nathan?” Nathan nodded, “Sure. Pick me a big one. You know what size I like. And a sweatshirt.” He winked, and Henri dashed off. Bastian had stilled after the use of the C-word. “Conduit’s blood?” His face went into deep panic mode, scrunching up. “But your blood isn’t powerful to anyone but me? Has that changed? Are you no longer safe?” His worst fear was that Copper wouldn’t be protected and would be anyone’s to use. Crimson understood that intense fear now. “Relax. It wasn’t my blood.” Copper put her arms around Bastian to soothe him. “I’m still locked to everyone but you.” The tension ebbed out of Bastian’s body as he realized his mate was in no danger. Crimson smiled. Her sister had found a winner for herself. Would Rojo and she have that one day? Puzzlement followed the tension on Bastian’s face. “If it wasn’t your blood -- whose was it?” “Rojo.” Copper reached up to put two fingers across his lips, which started to speak again. “Told you, I’ll explain everything later.” He nipped lightly at her fingers, causing her to squeal. He grinned boyishly. Henri strolled back into the kitchen with several weapons flung across his back. “I’m ready.” He tossed a sweatshirt to Nathan, who pulled it over his head. He looked so militant, so like a warrior. He’d be a big help in this rescue mission, having dealt with Lang once before. His fighting skills were legendary. She’d never expected them all to go with her to reclaim Rojo. She still had so much to learn about having this much family. Nathan popped the last of his chocolate into his mouth. “I’m ready.” Henri handed him a few weapons, which Nathan strapped on.
158
Mechele Armstrong
“Rojo killed most of Lang’s minions the night he got me out. So there shouldn’t be too many to deal with.” She left them to go find her own weapons. She also changed from sweats to leathers. She put on a long, black leather duster. If she was going to be kicking ass, she’d better look that part. She would be relying on the Conduit’s blood inside her veins and the element of surprise. Lang wouldn’t be expecting her to be so strong. “That’s good.” Henri followed behind her as she led them to the front door. “How many do you think he has?” “I don’t know. But given a chance, Lang will make more. He’s still hungry for power and revenge.” “Lang is a dangerous vampire.” Henri emphasized the words to maximize their impact. “Be cautious.” “I’m always cautious.” Henri shook his head at Nathan’s declaration. “OK. I’m never cautious. But I promise not to get in your way to kill him, big, bad-assed lover.” “That’s better.” Henri kissed him soundly. “Lang is mine.” Crimson left no doubt in her tone that she meant the words. She would deal with him. Every head turned to her as they reached the car. Henri started to speak. “I still have Rojo’s blood in me. I can use that against him.” Crimson opened the front passenger door. Henri’s intense training of her would come in handy as well. “I’m the best shot at taking him out quickly.” Henri slid into the back seat, always his practical self. He wanted to argue -- he had the “I’m a man, and I’m invincible” mentality as much as any guy -- but he knew she had a point. “She’s right. Even I couldn’t compete with her right now with the energy she has to expend.” Copper’s lips tightened into a thin line, but she didn’t make a comment. She poked Nathan and motioned for him to get in the middle. Bastian took a seat in the driver’s side. “You will fill me in on what the hell is going on, right?” “Oh, yeah.” Copper slid in beside Nathan. Crimson sat down and pulled the shoulder belt across her. “And you’d better take some of my blood once we get there.” Bastian started the car and pulled out the driveway. “Are we there yet?” Nathan whined, his voice nasal. With her family and friends behind her, Crimson set out to rescue the man she loved. This crazy bunch better arrive in time.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
159
Chapter Eighteen Rojo jumped down into the warehouse, crouching where he landed. His eyes scanned, taking in as much as he could in a single pass of his head. His nostrils flared out, pulling in scents. Lang’s stink permeated the air. It was fresh. His prey rested here. Ward’s scent hung heavy in the air, too, along with scents he didn’t recognize. He pushed himself to his feet with a half-smile.
Where are you, you son of a bitch? He’d done his own reconnaissance. He’d known an acquaintance or two of Lang’s. He’d used them to find Lang, saying Lang owed him money and had disappeared. Nervousness had already set in with them, so it had been an easy thing to provoke information about Lang’s dealings, which had eventually led him here. He skulked around the corner. Sticking to the shadows, he scoped out the place. It had been cleared out. A few empty wooden crates had been piled in a corner. Some heavy chains were placed in another corner. Nothing more was inside. The warehouse had high ceilings and a few industrial-size fans installed in the walls, along with several broken-out windows. Support posts ran from ceiling to floor. The concrete floor had cracked in places. A chill permeated the air. Toward the garage-like doors at the front, there was what resembled a building inside a building. It had been built flush with the wall with its own roof. Inside, Lang paced by one of several windows.
Got you. Lang only had Ward left when he’d run, and he didn’t see Ward anywhere. Lang must be alone. As confident as Lang was, he’d thought no one could find him here. The small office had probably been for management when it was a working structure. Only one door in or out. The office had six windows. Were they bulletproof? How many
160
Mechele Armstrong
disgruntled workers had they had at this place before it closed? If they weren’t bulletproof, he could shoot Lang through the glass. He could riddle the vampire with enough holes to do a lot of the draining for him. Then go finish him off. But if he did that, and they were bulletproof, then he lost the element of surprise. He couldn’t take that chance. He snuck around to the door, quietly positioning himself outside. With a deep breath, he kicked it in. “Hi, honey, I’m home. Miss me?” Lang whirled to face him. “Rose. I have a score to settle with you. How nice of you to make it easy for me.” Rojo tightened his finger on the trigger. “I’ll never make it easy for you.” He heard the rustle only a second before someone hit him, taking him to the ground. The man had been on the office’s roof. Rojo hadn’t expected an attack from above. The man had been carefully concealed, probably hidden as Rojo had glanced up, to protect Lang. He’d dropped down, immediately attacking. It wasn’t Ward. Several more men attacked, filtering out the office like flies. Rojo fought them off until one of them picked up a chair and broke it over his head. Once they had him down, they continued to pelt him, until he blacked out.
***** Rojo came to consciousness slowly. His head pounded, causing him to wince. He resisted the compulsion to put his hand on the bump. Of course, when he tried to move his hand, he discovered it was chained. So were his feet.
Not good. The coolness on his skin alerted him that his clothes had been removed. That was even worse. He rolled his head over, slitting one eyelid up, and peered. They’d put him outside the office he’d found Lang in. The chains connected to the support posts of the building. Ward stood talking to Lang, along with several other men. Shit, Lang had already started to make more minions. He should have expected more with the scents he’d smelled. He’d screwed up, being bent on his mission. He clenched his hand around the manacle that bound him to discover it was hard as steel. It is steel, you idiot. No way would he break through that. He was fucked. Lang turned to look at him. His lips drew up into a predatory smile as he realized Rojo had awakened. He was about to be fucked. Shit.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
161
Lang approached with a gliding, purposeful stride. Rojo didn’t pretend, but opened both his eyes wide to stare up at Lang. “Good morning, Rose.” “It’s not morning.” “Ahh, you have a point. But it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Lang walked around him, surveying to see if the chains were tight. “Head hurt? Need me to rub it for you?” “Go to hell.” He moved his hand to see how much play was in the chain. Not much. He couldn’t get any leverage. “I’m glad you haven’t lost your spirit. That’s good to see.” Lang motioned to Ward. “Get his legs spread with the chains.” Rojo’s heart pounded even as his mind raced. He didn’t see a way to get out of this one. At least Crimson was safe. It was the only thing that would keep him sane for the next few hours. They tightened the chains around the posts, spreading his legs. “First, I’m going to fuck you. Then I’m going to drain you. And blow your ashes into the wind.” His eyes shuttered closed. Lang would find out once he took his blood what he was. A quick death would be the best thing. That wouldn’t happen if Lang took his blood too far away from the end. After a certain point, Lang would have to take blood to finish it. But it could be too late to bring Rojo back. Only another Conduit would be able to save him. But how did he keep Lang from sampling him before then? “You know, Lang, you’re going to be the worst fuck I’ve ever had.” Pissing him off. He’d make Lang want to cut him, use other things rather than his teeth. Lang’s step faltered. “Shut up, Rose.” He began taking off his clothes. As each piece came off, Rojo watched. The rape would be soon. “But Lang, your little dick is going to feel so much like a toothpick when you shove it up my ass. Why bother?” Lang’s growl echoed in the empty space. Thank God for Lang’s big ego. Now naked, Lang knelt down to hold Rojo’s hips, preparing to enter him. No lube, and Rojo hadn’t had a man in a while. It was going to hurt. “See how little you think this is.” A scent drifted across the warehouse as the side door banged open. Crimson sauntered into the room followed by Nathan and Henri. They were all armed and looked ready for anything. Her black coat splayed out behind her as she walked. She had her hair pulled back and was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen, his angel. Even bound, about to be raped and killed, his dick hardened at the sight of her. He lowered his head, cricking his neck to stay where he could watch her. He’d never imagined his angel would be wearing leathers with a gun by her side. “Get away from him.” Crimson’s voice snapped like icy fire.
162
Mechele Armstrong
Lang lifted up away from him. He had gotten a reprieve, but for how long? And Crimson was in danger. Not the way he’d envisioned this going down. “You’re dead.” Lang’s voice sounded incredulous. Crimson let loose a throaty laugh. “I’m the finest-looking dead vampire around, then.” Nathan snorted loudly behind her. “Shut up, Nathan.” Her eyes never left Rojo and Lang. “The man’s mine. You stay away from him.” “You want him. Take him.” Lang motioned to the chains. “Oh, that’s right. It takes a key. Which you don’t have. I do.” His knife flashed out. “Hello, Henri.” “Lang.” Henri’s voice had a pissed off quality Rojo hadn’t heard before. Nathan wouldn’t be siphoning off his anger this time. They could use that for their side. Crimson snapped her fingers in front of her. “You deal with me, Lang. Henri, stay out of it.” “Unless he pisses me off, ma cherie.” Rojo tangled his hands in the chains. Dammit, he didn’t want to stand by and watch his girlfriend fight their nemesis. But he could do little else as the chains held fast. He had to cock his head to keep his eyes on his prize, his woman. “Any of you take one step closer, and I’ll slice him up in front of your eyes. Fall on him with my teeth and before you get me off, I’ll drain him.” Lang pulled on Rojo’s chains, moving him even closer to Lang. “Henri, he’s bound to piss you off. He already has me.” She glowered at Lang. “Dumbass, you’d be dead before you could finish him off.” A snap had Rojo pulling up his head to swivel it around. Ward had a big-ass elephant gun as he strolled up behind Lang standing in front of the office. Ward was flanked by the rest of the new vampires Lang had made. They made a show of force to the interlopers, his rescue team. “Leave them the fuck alone,” he muttered. He pulled against the chains again. If only he could channel his own Conduit’s power. Lang kicked him in the side. “Shut up.” His voice had a triumphant “I’ve trumped you” tone. “I know that gun won’t kill you. But it will take you down for a while. And I’ll kill you all while your wounds are knitting and still get what I want. Rose in the ass and then dead.” Crimson’s voice went down two octaves. Rojo didn’t look back at her, but she sounded like she was glaring. “Kick him again, and I’ll pull your leg off. Like the tiny insect that you are.” “You know? I’m curious. How did you survive? You should have died from what I did to you.” Lang took a step. “How’s that possible?” “Sir, can I shoot them?” Ward’s finger tightened on the gun, his voice twitchy. Not something you wanted with the trigger man. Rojo’s chest tightened.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
163
“Shoot me, and you’ll never know.” The defiance in her voice had him shaking his head. She had cheek. “You’re an interesting woman.” Lang rocked back on his heels. “Not only for coming back from the dead.” She took a step forward. Rojo heard it through the cold concrete rather than saw it. “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t come closer. Or I will fall on him while Ward shoots.” This time, Rojo did swivel his head to look at her. She bit her lip, stopping. “You wanna know why I didn’t die?” “It’s the only reason you’re not bleeding on my floor yet.” Rojo closed his eyes. What game was she playing? If she told Lang about him, Lang would never give him up. He’d rather be dead than Lang’s steady meal. “I’m a special vampire. My blood rejuvenates me no matter what happens to me. You could cut off my arm, and I’d still come for you.” Lang shook his head. “What a crock of shit.” “It’s my crock. I’m damn proud of it.” Crimson tilted down her head. “We don’t know yet if it carries to people who feed from me and get hurt. Want to be the first one to try it out?” Rojo swallowed, his mouth dried out. Crimson wanted Lang to try and feed from her. She wanted to get close and use the powers she’d gotten from his blood on Lang. She’d still have the effects. “You’re tempting, but no, I think not.” Lang sighed. “I know you aren’t a Conduit, nor is your blood special. I sampled you, remember?” he sneered. “Asshole. I wouldn’t forget you killing me.” Crimson tilted her head back. “But I’m damn special. You’re about to find out how much.” A crumble of noises and Ward’s groan caused Rojo to look to where Ward been standing beside the office. From where the roof had made a platform, Copper and Bastian had dropped onto Ward and the new vamps. They must have snuck up there from one of the broken windows. No one had scented them. “Get them!” Lang’s guttural scream had all hell breaking loose. Arms flew through the air, punching, along with feet aimed in kicks designed to take people off theirs. Shots fired, leaving the acrid scent of gunpowder hanging in the air. Ward dropped his gun and fought with Bastian. Rojo hunkered on the floor; wasn’t much else he could do. He tried to trip Lang’s men when they got too close. He tugged on the chains, frustrated at his inability to help. Someone grabbed the back of his head by his braid, arching his body up as another body came on top of his. “I can’t fuck you. But I’ll kill you and make sure she never will again.” Lang’s hoarse whisper sounded by his right ear.
164
Mechele Armstrong
The fangs pricked his skin as Lang slit his throat. White, searing pain exploded in his neck. Lang fed for a second before being pulled off him. For the second time that night, Rojo’s world went dark.
***** Crimson saw Lang fall on Rojo. “Shit!” Nathan glanced over where she looked. “Go. I’ll take care of your dweeb.” He grinned at the vamp he’d been fighting and at the one Crimson had been fighting. “A threesome, if only both of you were better looking.” One of them gnashed their teeth at Nathan. Crimson turned, fighting her way to where Lang had Rojo. The vamps Lang had made were tenacious and crazy as hell. He’d gone through the streets randomly making vampires. It was taking too long to take them out, and there were too many of them. She reached Lang as he sank his fangs into Rojo’s neck. She picked Lang up and tossed him away from her lover. So much blood gushed from Rojo’s neck. “Oh, my God.” He gasped for breath. Was he dying? “No!!” This couldn’t be happening. “No.” Suddenly, Copper grabbed her. “Go. Get Lang. He’s had Rojo’s blood. I’ll take care of Rojo.” Copper crouched down, using a knife to open up her arm. Rojo wouldn’t get her Conduit effects, but she’d keep him from dying. She pressed her shirt against Rojo’s neck to help alleviate the blood loss. Her sister would get a big hug when this was over. She had Copper, the sister, back. Crimson turned and advanced on Lang. “I told you. He’s mine. Fangs and fingers off. He’s mine.” She clenched her fingers in anger. This man had stolen her life once. He’d hurt her like everyone else had. Now he’d attempted to do that to Rojo. And he was going to pay. He shook his head to clear it. “My God, Rose is a Conduit.” His eyes fixed on her. “You’ve had his blood.” “Damn straight, I did. Now it’s time for you to die.” “I don’t think so,” Lang snarled. “First, I’ll take care of you. Then Rojo will be mine. I see your sister is saving him for me.” “You’ll never have him.” Not while she lived. Lang roared, attacking. Everything became punches and blocks. Her hands had never moved so fast. They both tried to use their strength on each other. Lang was stronger, but she was quicker and used her dance moves to jab and get away before he could retaliate. She held onto the fury that fueled her, driving it, not letting it drive her, so she didn’t make any stupid mistakes. She held her own against the bigger man, but wasn’t gaining ground. Everyone else was still fighting. She had to do this herself.
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
165
Let me do this. Let me prove myself and keep him safe. Lang suddenly moved away, weakly flinging out his hand, though it was still a hard enough push that she fell to the ground. “What’s happened? Where’s my strength?” The Conduit power had run out for him. He’d only had a sip, not a full feeding. And good thing, too, because she’d been getting worried that she was going to lose. He dashed away, heading for Rojo and Copper as she kicked to her feet. “Dammit, come back here.” He galloped as fast as he could manage. He was too close to those dear to her. She wouldn’t let him reach them. She grabbed the elephant gun Ward had dropped and no one else had picked up, emptying it into Lang’s back. He fell to his knees and then forward onto his face. His body jerked as wounds opened up along his skin. She sprang to him, leaning over. Her fangs plunged into him as he howled in frustration. She drained Lang into a screaming, shriveling descent into ash. Stunned, she sat down a minute before crawling over to Rojo and Copper. She’d actually done it. Saved her lover. Relief flooded her.
***** Rojo opened his eyes. For a second, he saw double. Then his eyes cleared. Crimson and Copper stared down at him, their green eyes worried. He put his hand up to stroke Crimson’s face. “Hi.” “Hi.” Her hand came up to grasp his. “Lang’s dead.” He sighed in relief. Crimson had done it. She’d killed their danger. Now they could bond without worry. “Rojo, none of the vampires got out.” Henri’s voice came from behind the women. “Your secret is safe.” “Here, feed.” Crimson pushed her slender arm at him. “You’re healing, but you need more to hold you until we get you home.” Vampires could feed from one another as long as one fed from an outside fresh source. Her eyes turned to Copper as Rojo fed from her. “Thank you.” Copper shifted uneasily on her feet. “Not a problem.” She looked down with a halfsmile on her face. He looked curiously at Crimson, who grinned at him, though it looked indulgent. Someone had fed him. Had it been Copper? That was an interesting turn of events. Just wait until I get you home. He finished feeding. He brought up his hands to his throat. It had healed to a miniscule cut.
166
Mechele Armstrong
“Well, that’s that.” Crimson pushed to her feet. She dusted off her hands. I can’t wait. “I guess we’re done.” “Nothing like killing before breakfast.” Nathan’s voice came from somewhere behind him. “Umm, little help here, please.” Rojo met Crimson’s eyes. They sparkled back at him. He needed to be free, needed to hold her tight. The feel of her against his body would remind him they’d survived. “How’d you find me anyway?” “I had a dream. Have I mentioned I have the gift of foresight? And we lucked into some other clues.” His eyebrows rose at her admission. They’d talk more about that later. Right now, he wanted freedom. She continued, “Hmmm. Maybe I should take you home like this.” She tapped fingers on her chin. A couple of chuckles sounded. “Especially for leaving me like you did this morning to go after Lang.” “Crimson.” He growled. “Quit playing. Get the keys.” “Who’s playing?” She arched a brow at him, the auburn hairs drifting up under her bangs before falling back down again. Nathan approached Crimson. “I won’t help get him home unless you share the chains.” He winked heartily at Henri. She sighed. “I guess I’ll have to undo him. No good way to get him home.” They sifted through Lang’s ashes looking for a key. “Well, shit.” Crimson grumbled. “Lying bastard never had a key.” Henri knelt by Nathan. “These chains probably came with the warehouse.” Rojo pulled against the bonds again. He hadn’t panicked when he’d been about to be raped. He wouldn’t panic now. Somehow he’d get free. But he wanted these chains off, now. So he could hold his woman. A hissing sound made him jump. It came from behind him, where he couldn’t cock his head to see. “I think this will help.” Bastian’s voice lowered as he came into view with a blowtorch. “This was in one of the offices.” “Why did Lang have this place anyway?” Copper came into view, dusting off her hands. “Who knows?” Henri shook his head. “I have a feeling he had plans with the blood bank being so close. And it gave him a good place to hide out.” They cut the chains off of Rojo, leaving links on his wrists and ankles that would need to be removed later. Crimson tugged at his hand, pulling him close. “Don’t you ever go off like that again. I like to share in the fun, too, you know.” He leaned to kiss her with all the pent up emotion that resided within him, wrapping her in his arms. “Won’t, baby. Ever again.”
*****
Blood Lines: Crimson’s Rose
167
Rojo flopped down on Crimson’s bed, yawning, looking around at her room. “We can get our own place. I promise I won’t do it entirely in roses.” He chuckled. “I don’t care. We can stay here for a while. You’re still learning from Henri.” “So will you. But we don’t have to live with them.” Henri would teach Rojo everything his maker never had about being a vampire. Like Copper, Rojo had extraordinary telepathic skills and the ability to block his thoughts from others. With training, Henri said those abilities could be strengthened. Rojo shrugged. He didn’t mind living anywhere, as long as he had Crimson. He’d even agreed to stop killing for now. Crimson’s relief had been evident. Even Henri had seemed happy. He still stubbornly held to the notion he’d been taking humans out who weren’t missed, but he’d quit for now. “I want to bond with you. Tonight” Her huge smile made the room light up. “Are you sure?” “Oh, yeah. I’m sure. How do we do it?” Nothing had ever been more certain in his life. “I talked to Henri and found out what we do.” She grabbed a sheet of paper. “I wrote down the oath we have to say. We have to mix our blood together first.” She got up and rummaged in her closet for a second. “This can hold the blood.” She’d pulled out a glass goblet with metal at the top shaped like roses. “Yeah, a rose cup to bind me to my Rose.” She winked at him. He shook his head. “It’s perfect.” They could have used plastic cups or their hands for all he cared. She took a small knife and made an incision in her arm, letting the blood fall into the cup. “Your turn.” He cut himself, and then they swirled the blood around, mixing it. “Now what do we say?” “We each say this.” She sat on the bed beside him, her hip edging his, holding the paper. “With my blood, I bind you.” The words, so formal, sent a shudder along his body. If it worked, he’d have her for an eternity. “With my blood, I bind you.” She took a small sip, then a larger gulp. “Now drink the rest.” He guzzled down the liquid. “Now what?” “That’s it.” “That’s it?” He frowned. He’d expected a more elaborate ceremony. And he didn’t feel any different. Shouldn’t lightning have flashed? Bells have gone off? Something. “I don’t feel any ...” His stomach clenched. “... different.”
168
Mechele Armstrong
Only he did. The desire to be inside Crimson hit him full force. His dick swelled to complete hardness. She moaned, her eyes darkened with passion. It had hit her, too. Her heavy arousal grew more potent in the air. No more thinking, he grabbed her, his tongue plunging deep within her mouth, tasting her, claiming her as far inside as he could get. He wrapped his hands in her thick hair, pulling on it softly. She reached up, yanking on his tunic. “Naked, now.” Her words against his lips increased the firebrand burning across his skin. He’d never been so hot in his life. His hands ducked down, pulling her t-shirt apart in one swift movement. His tunic flew up over his head as he yanked it off as quickly as he could. Her bared breasts rubbed against his chest hair as he quickly got rid of the rest of their clothes. Before, the pull to get inside her had been magnetic. This went beyond even that. He parted her folds with his dick, her whimpering noises driving him to the brink of insanity. Inside that warm, silken sheath, he found the heaven he’d been searching for his whole life. They both shattered around each other. Afterwards, coming down in the aftermath, he murmured. “You’re mine.” “I know.” She breathed fast and shallow. “As you are mine.” They lay in the stillness for a while. “Later, we’ll have to test out that the bonding worked.” He turned to face her. “Someone will have to try your blood.” He planted a light kiss on her lips. “I know.” “Are you OK with that?” “Only if it’s much later.” He kissed her again, murmuring, “Much, much later.” For her, he’d be OK with it. They had sealed themselves to each other for all eternity. He was finally Crimson’s Rose.
Mechele Armstrong Have you ever wondered, "What if crayons have a kingdom?” Mechele Armstrong did at age five. Now, turning the imagination of a wide-eyed child into intense spellbinding stories for adults, she is winning over new fans every day. Writing stories and poetry as a hobby, she graduated from Virginia Commonwealth University with a degree in Religious Studies and Social Welfare. Although there were challenges with work and family, the need to write and be published, to share her passion for books was always there. During a rainy weekend at the beach reading several romance novels she fell in love, not with the hero, but with the genre again. So began a two-year adventure of doing what she loved most, creating worlds with strong heroines and enchanting heroes that will keep you turning pages until the end. Using the Internet and the local Romance Writer’s Association, she learned and refined her craft. Living in Virginia with a husband, kids, dog, and fish, she finds time to share her vivid imagination and ability to tell stories of adventure, love, lust, and everything in between. Visit Mechele on the Web at http://www.mechelearmstrong.com, or email her at
[email protected].
