Bloodlines: Currents Read online

  BLOODLINES: CURRENTS

  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 situations that some readers may find objectionable (homoerotic sex).

  Bloodlines: Currents

  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.

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  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © April 2007 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 0978-1-59632-453-4

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Erin Mullarky

  Cover Artist: April Martinez

  www.loose-id.com

  Chapter One

  Henri Baptiste rode down a well-worn path to Madeleine’s chateau, or at least the one he thought belonged to his former lover. His horse’s hooves raised up the dust. The small village he’d passed near Lourdes was in a dire need of rain. It was infinitely better to see the mountains than the monstrosity they’d built in Paris. He made a face thinking about the new Eiffel Tower. After living so long without it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it towering above Paris.

  He rounded the bend, now able to make out the cozy sandstone farmhouse. It had to be where Madeleine and her husband had settled after leaving Henri’s service.

  Clang. Clang. Clang.

  Henri stopped at the loud bangs coming from the back of the house near a small barn. It sounded like metal on metal. He would start with whoever was making all the noise. Surely they could tell him where Madeleine lived, if this wasn’t it. He swung down from his horse, leaving it to graze.

  Sweat beaded on his face as the afternoon sun burned down. Summer was warm even here, causing Henri’s skin to prickle and itch. He didn’t enjoy daytime trips, but this couldn’t be helped. The note had said to come as quickly as he could, that she was dying

  Wildflowers dotted the paths being visited by several colorful butterflies. He watched them wildly flit around for a second.

  Sweat ran down his neck. He would be glad when all the affectations of the Victorians went completely out of style, even if they did serve to block the sun from his sensitive skin. At least things could move to lighter fabrics. Having lived as long as he had, it was a sure thing styles would change, pinging back from conservative to liberal. Thankfully, suits had gotten plainer with the revolutions, but then ascots had come into favor. He tugged on his. It was a nuisance.

  Around the corner of the house, he stopped short. A man, wearing breeches and nothing else, raised his hammer and slammed it down on the anvil. His other hand held a clamp of some kind, which held whatever he was hitting so it wouldn’t jump around at being hit.

  He was doing some blacksmith work, but doing it unlike any man that Henri had seen. The lack of clothing alone was enough to throw him. It wasn’t done in this era, working without being fully dressed.

  The man’s muscles flexed and relaxed with his work, and he was tanned enough to show this lack of required clothing wasn’t a one-time affair. His long golden hair ran down his bare back contained in a ponytail much longer than fashion dictated.

  His muscles rolled under his skin as he brought the hammer down again. Sweat ran down his torso. Schlepping his tongue across that man’s stomach would be a salty, tasty treat.

  Henri’s cock swelled and surged as he watched the man elegantly moving, smashing the hot metal. What was he making?

  The man’s neck twisted as he looked to where Henri stood, showing no surprise that someone stood there. His face was a painter’s dream, long with high cheekbones and arresting blue eyes. Full lips parted to show even white teeth, a rarity for the times.

  “Allo.” The man spoke first in fluid deep tones. “Are you going to stand there and look all day at me? Perhaps I should charge for my show.”

  Henri’s cheeks warmed at being caught staring. Damn, the man had him almost flushing as if he were a school boy, which was something he hadn’t even done as a schoolboy. “No. I...came to visit a friend.” Henri caught himself before he almost answered him in his original language, instead of in the French he’d spoken for so many years.

  The man’s lips pulled back into a grin, revealing more teeth. “That’s good to know.” The man’s long lashes fluttered down to cover his eyes, but Henri didn’t miss the heated look the man gave before they closed. Henri’s heartbeat quickened. Yet another thing that set this man apart in his time. Overt sexuality for the same sex was frowned upon in most circles. Who was this man?

  “I’m here to see Madeleine. Is this her house?” Henri took three steps toward the young man, who looked to be in his early twenties, if not eighteen or nineteen. In the distance, a bird called mournfully.

  “Yes. Yes, this is her house. Are you a friend of hers?”

  Henri nodded, his question on who the man was still unanswered.

  “As payment for watching my show...” His pony tail swayed, containing his lion’s mane of hair. That loose golden mass would slide so softly across Henri’s body. “...how about getting me a drink?”

  “All right. I’m Henri Baptiste, by the way.”

  “A pleasure, Henri. I’m Nathan. There’s a bucket over there.” He pointed with long fingers. His hands were callused, well worn.

  The pleasure was all Henri’s. He found his intrigue growing as he walked to the metal bucket to draw some water. As he walked back, Nathan hammered more. Watching each blow ricocheting through Nathan’s body, Henri’s lust surged, too. He’d never viewed blacksmithing as a sexy chore even when he’d seen it often, but this man’s smoldering looks and body could change his mind.

  Would it be rude to have a tryst while visiting your dying former lover?

  Bucket in hand, striding back to Nathan, propriety stepped in to cool the embers of his lust. This man was at Madeleine’s house. Surely, she hadn’t taken on a lover after her husband had passed away. Especially one so much younger than her. “Is Madeleine here? You said this was her house.”

  Nathan took the dipper from the bucket and sipped. A look of pure pleasure rushed across his face as his throat moved, drinking down the water.

  Henri swallowed, unable to look away from the man. This close, he could smell something minty mixed with sweat. And nothing had ever been sexier.

  Their eyes met, clicking together. It was like metal to flint, striking a fire in Henri’s gut that roared to life, popping and crackling.

  Nathan’s eyes widened in surprise, telling Henri he felt the current sizzle between them, too. Nathan lowered the dipper while catching a drop from the corner of his lip with his tongue.

  Henri leane
d in, about to have a taste of the man, when a voice called from the house. “Nathan, where are you?” The voice was soft, hoarse.

  Nathan dropped the dipper into the bucket, still staring straight at Henri. Putting one hand on either side of Henri’s face, he gently brushed his lips across Henri’s. The simple kiss made Henri’s body clench, especially his already hard cock.

  “That’s Madeleine.” Turning on his heels, he headed for the house. “Coming, Maman.”

  Henri stared after Nathan’s well-formed backside, glad to be going out of the irritating sunlight, until the words he’d spoken digested.

  Maman?

  * * * * *

  Nathan dipped a cloth in the bowl that sat on the small wooden dresser and pressed it against his mother’s head. He’d carried her back to bed from wandering the house. He’d needed to work, to pound something into a useful shape, both for himself and for their livelihood, but didn’t like leaving her alone long for this reason.

  Her hand came up to grasp his, though with little power behind it. “You were out dressed in that? Nathan, you know Jacques is looking...” She coughed violently, her breath rattling and wheezing in her chest. Her bony hand tightened around his wrist, shaking with the effort.

  “Maman. Don’t worry. He won’t catch me.” He wiped her brow, patting it much as she had when he was sick as a child and had a fever. The change of roles hadn’t escaped his notice.

  So frail.

  He swallowed; her mortality was never more apparent. She hadn’t been the same since his father had passed on a year ago. She had accepted her coming death already. The only problem was, he hadn’t.

  “Nathan, you must be careful.” She dropped her hand from his wrist to the bed where it lay limply.

  A rustle sounded in the doorway, reminding him of the man who’d come to call. How could he have forgotten Henri? His presence had overtaken Nathan as if a hand had grasped him, touching from head to toe. He’d never had anything happen similar to that, and he’d endured many strange senses from people. “A man’s here to see you, Maman.”

  “A man?” she rasped, her breath still moving shrilly through her nose. At least she hadn’t coughed up blood this time. He always watched for any sign his mother might be getting better, even as futile as it was. Shifting to his feet, he got up and moved so that the man would be in his mother’s line of sight.

  The low baritone resonated in the stillness. “It’s Henri, Madeleine.”

  Her eyes lightened as a small smile graced her lips. “Henri. I wasn’t sure you’d come.” How long had it been since his mother had smiled that way? Over a year, he was sure. Any man who could do that had to be a great one and had earned Nathan’s respect already. But who was he? How did he know Nathan’s mother?

  Henri stepped more into the room, his presence taking it over.

  Damn, Henri wasn’t large by any means, but it was all Nathan could do not to step back. Nathan towered over Henri, making him shorter than two meters. But somehow his presence made him seem bigger than he was. He was bulky, but Nathan could see the muscles working with every movement. This was a man whose strength would surprise everyone.

  The turbulent emotions echoed within Nathan’s head. He was a man in crisis, though he didn’t accept his limitations. What had happened that left the dark circles around such a pensive face? Long lashes along with brown eyes, full lips, and an olive complexion rounded out by dark hair completed the most arresting face he’d ever seen. It was too off-center to be considered very handsome, and too beautiful to be ugly. And Henri wore his hair longer than convention dictated, as Nathan did.

  “Of course, I would come.” Henri moved to the bed to kiss her cheek. It was another tally mark earning respect from Nathan. Besides being fascinating, Henri didn’t act as if she was a pariah or might be contagious as so many who visited did. “You asked me to.”

  Nathan’s head came up to stare at his mother. “When did you ask him to come see you? How?”

  His mother’s smile turned up bigger. “Nathan, you know mothers must have some secrets from their sons. It matters not how I got him word. Please, bring him some wine. His mouth must be parched from his journey.”

  Henri shook his head, clasping his mother’s hand in his own. “I’m fine, Maddy. I was sorry to hear about Francois.”

  Nathan had never heard anyone call his mother Maddy. His eyes shifted from the man to watch his mother’s reaction.

  The smile wavered, and a tear snuck out of the corner of her eye. She always cried when talking about Nathan’s father. “It was his time.” Her gaze went to the windows. He should carry her outside later today. She’d always loved the outdoors. Maybe it would help her spirits. He’d do anything he thought would help her, would make her happier.

  “Perhaps I shall have some water later.” Henri’s husky voice sent a shiver down Nathan’s spine, reminding him of Henri’s reaction to Nathan drinking outside. Nathan would share it and more if Henri asked. But surely such a man wouldn’t thwart convention in those ways, would he?

  “Nathan, I...need to speak with Henri alone, please.” His mother’s voice rang stronger, more sure of itself, than it had been in ages.

  “Maman.” Nathan frowned. She didn’t have much strength anymore. He didn’t want her to wear herself out. And what did she have to say that he couldn’t hear? Probably something about Jacques. The bastard. And Nathan could take care of that situation, could take care of himself. He didn’t need protection, no matter how good looking the protector was.

  “Leave us. Please.”

  Sighing, Nathan went over to kiss his mother’s cheek. He couldn’t deny his mother anything, never had been able to. This brought him closer to Henri. The draw, even in his mother’s presence, awed him. He wanted to rub his body all over Henri’s as if he were a large cat. Dammit. Would that thrill Henri or disgust him? “I’ll be right outside.”

  He turned on his heels and left the room before he did something like almost kiss Henri again.

  * * * * *

  Madeleine patted the seat beside her. “Have a seat, Henri.” Her face scanned his. He looked as he had when she’d known him so many years ago, while she knew she looked different. Age and disease had wrecked her body. His familiar scent had washed into the room with his entrance. He’d always smelled of earth to her. Something deep and rich, vibrant. Only dark circles ringing his eyes marred the looks she knew so well. She hadn’t forgotten how good-looking he was. But his pinched face and ringed eyes were signs of his trouble. “Things have not gone well for you lately.”

  He swore, the reaction he’d always given when she had sensed his mood. “You always could sense me so well. Are you in pain, Maddy?”

  A smile, one that probably looked secretive, graced her lips. She’d always been able to sense others’ emotions. It gave her the ability to tell people what they needed to hear. It had come in handy as a young English girl taken from the streets and sold to a prostitution house in Paris. It was where she’d been dubbed Madeleine. She hardly ever thought of that English girl with the other name anymore. It wasn’t who she’d become.

  “A fair amount. Not bad. What troubles you?” She leaned forward in the small bed. Her room was one of the few with windows. How she loved to look outside; it was why her bed sat where it did in the room. Not that it mattered now, when she could barely enjoy the view, but at least she’d lived to see Henri come around.

  “I...” His eyes reached down to capture hers. They had always reminded her of warm chestnuts. “I should be listening to you right now. You had something to tell me. And I can ease your pain. I brought something with me, in case you needed it.”

  She waved a hand, struggling to sit up, before ceasing, to lay there. It was all she was able to do after having been up searching for Nathan. The big poster bed had been so lonely since Francois’s death, but it tired her out to walk any distance. She’d awakened to find Nathan gone, and had worried Jacques had come for him before her help could arrive. The clang
of the hammer had eased the worry, until she’d thought about how carelessly Nathan took the threat. From the time he was a little boy, he’d always defied convention. She shouldn’t have expected any less--after all, Nathan was her progeny--but in her old age and with the present danger, it was concerning. “Anything for the pain will take away my mind. I’m not dead yet. Right now, talk to me.”

  He sighed, his powerful chest blowing up and down. He’d always been the strongest man she’d ever known. Until she’d met her husband, Henri had been the handsomest, too. He wasn’t conventionally good looking, but something about him drew the eye. “I lost a student. To another vampire.” His fists clenched in his lap. “He regards humanity as a sport. Lots of humans will suffer because Lang will make it so.”

  “You aren’t responsible for your student’s actions beyond what you teach. You give them the lessons. They must be the ones to learn it, to take it to heart. You can’t control what they do after that.”

  “They ran from me. I cannot find them.” His jaw tightened, the barely controlled anger never more evident. The emotion washed over her, she closed her eyes against its strength, then opened them to regard him.

  Henri couldn’t kill what he couldn’t find. And that would frustrate him most of all. He’d unleashed something and now couldn’t contain it. “You mustn’t let this get to you.” Henri would find them. The student would suffer more than the vampire who’d taken them away.

  “If only it were only that. There’s more. I’m...” His eyes took on a stark longing and angst. “I cannot control my animal anymore.”

  Her eyes widened. Those who’d been with Henri while she’d been there had many discussions about the nature of the vampire. Her empathetic skills had made her and Henri closer than most of his lovers, who he’d also fed from. Henri’s vampire side had always threatened to overwhelm his humanity. He’d fought the battle since he’d been made. Both were strong, and both struggled for control. As strong a vampire as Henri was, the loss of his control to the beast would be an atrocity. “You will find your center, my friend. You always do.”