Blood Lines: Conduit Read online

  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 well-plotted 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: CONDUIT

  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: Conduit

  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 © March 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 978-1-59632-229-5

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

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Erin Mullarkey

  Cover Artist: April Martinez

  Dedication

  To the Dark-Hunter Groups: wonderful friends and my first fans and to Squirewriters: for all the support and advice.

  Chapter One

  “Ohhhhhhh,” Copper Daly moaned as Jared sucked her nipple deep into his mouth. Warm wetness engulfed it. “Yes. More. Oh god, more.” He shifted, and she smelled the acrid scent of his cigarettes clinging to him.

  His mouth made a popping sound as he released it. He grasped her breast with his hand and kneaded. “You have such beautiful tits,” he murmured.

  She lifted her head, glaring at him. “You have such a way with words.”

  “I have a way with my mouth.” He winked before suckling her other nipple, nipping the areola lightly.

  “That’s the only reason I keep you around -- Ow, that hurt.” She winced, pushing on his blond-streaked head because his teeth had clamped down too hard.

  “Sorry.”

  “I don’t want to be bitten, Jared. Tongue, not teeth.”

  “Geesh, Cop. You’re such a bitch. I could use a lot less instruction here.” His blue eyes gazed up at her, darkened, but not passion-hazed anymore. She’d pissed him off again. Funny how they kept doing that to each other. Tomorrow would be his turn.

  “It hurt. I’m sorry I snapped.” She wanted tonight to be a peaceful one. Wanted to get laid. If they argued again, they wouldn’t have sex.

  He kissed her mouth; she parted her lips for his tongue to twirl around hers. Tasted the bitter flavor of the beer he’d had after dinner. His cock slapped her thigh as he arched his hips against her.

  She panted, and he swallowed the breaths like he was trying to eat them.

  The phone rang.

  “Don’t answer it,” he mumbled against her lips, arching against her again, stiff cock rubbing against her leg. His fingers trailed down the sensitive skin of her stomach, rough against the smoothness. Her breath quickened, her clit trembled as she clenched her thighs. She ached for his touch, his strumming with each digit until she poured out her climax. One area they had no trouble with at all, unlike the rest of their relationship.

  “I wasn’t ...”

  His fingers reached her mound. He played in the coarse hairs, and she sucked in a breath. Not quite where she wanted them, but close. The answering machine picked up. Her voice sounded.

  “You need a wax.”

  She pressed her head back on the pillow with a long-suffering sigh. Why couldn’t he keep that talented mouth closed once in a while?

  Copper’s voice finished, and the machine beeped.

  “Copper ...” The voice sounded breathless as if she’d been running. “Copper ... Oh god, pick up. Pick up ...”

  “Get off!” Copper shoved Jared, leaping up to race to the phone.

  Crimson screamed on the speaker, and the line went dead before Copper could pick it up.

  She stopped two paces from the phone. “No!” Yanking up the receiver, she heard the dial tone. “Shit.” She checked caller ID. A number she didn’t recognize. Why hadn’t Crimson called from home? Or her cell phone? Her heart thumped in her chest.

  “Come back to bed, Cop. We have things to finish.”

  She turned around, her eyes narrowing. “That was Crimson.”

  “I know who it was. Come back to bed.” He patted a spot on the mattress.

  “You little shit. It was Crimson. She screamed on my phone.” She turned around, and dialed the number from caller ID. No one answered. Closing her eyes, she swallowed, the sound making a hollow noise in her ears.

  “She probably was playing one of the games she likes to play. You know she likes that stuff.”

  Turning around so sharply she almost lost her balance, Copper growled, “I know the games she likes to play. This was different.” Her breasts had bounced with the movement. She didn’t miss Jared’s eyes appreciating her jiggle. She crossed her arms over her chest. He frowned, his bushy eyebrows coming together. “Did you hear her voice? She was scared.”

  He snorted. “She was playing one of her games, Copper. That bitch doesn’t get scared.”

  She ran a hand over her face. Jared didn’t like her sister. Crimson telling him he was pussy-whipped on their first meeting probably had something to do with that. “She isn’t a bitch. And this didn’t sound like a game. She screamed!”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure she screams a lot. Like you’re going to before the night is over.” He stalked toward her, heavy cock resting between his pale, hairy thighs. Usually it captivated her to see a man’s hardened penis that way. Not now.

  He reached a small hand out to her breast. She pushed at his shoulder. “No. Crimson is in trouble. I have to find her.”

  After dialing the number again, she tucked the phone alongside her ear an
d tugged on her bikini underwear. He slid hands over her ass, stroking, even as she smacked him, needing her full attention on the phone. He yelped and retreated out of reach. “Hello!? Crimson?”

  “Who is this?” A deep, slightly accented voice answered.

  “Where’s Crimson, you son of a bitch? If you do anything to my sister ...”

  Click and a dial tone.

  “Oh no!” She dialed again and then shrugged up her jeans. “You’re not hanging up on me. Pick up the damn phone.” She let it ring twenty times. No answer. She rang her sister’s cell and home phone. No answer.

  “What are you doing?”

  Copper slammed the phone down. “What does it look like I’m doing?” She reached around her back to fasten her bra. Sliding the straps up her arms, she tried to ignore the fluttering in her belly. Crimson had to be all right. Copper shivered. Please let her be all right.

  “Why are you getting dressed?”

  She slid her T-shirt over her head before answering. “Why do you think I’m getting dressed?”

  “We were going to fuck.” He stuck out his lip, looking so much like a little boy who didn’t get the pony he wanted. Had she not been so worried, she would have laughed.

  “Key word: Were.”

  “What are you going to do? You don’t even know where she was. I’m telling you she was playing one of her pervo sadistic games.”

  “Not this time. She doesn’t play them with me, anyway. And I’ll figure out something. But I have to find her.”

  She picked up the phone and dialed the caller ID number again.

  A different voice picked up this time.

  “Where’s Crimson?” she demanded.

  “Who?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Look, lady, I was going to make a call. You called as I picked up to dial.”

  “I got a call a while ago. From ... well, a redhead. Did you see her?”

  “I told you, I just got here.”

  “Where is here?” She grabbed a pen and pad from the orderly desk by the phone.

  “What?”

  “Where is here?!” She tried to calm herself. Yelling wouldn’t get her anywhere. “What city?”

  “St. Louis. It’s a pay phone.”

  Her hands shook. “Where in St. Louis?”

  Silence.

  “C’mon. Look at the street signs. Please? It’s important.”

  He sighed. “The corner of Fox and Brisbane.”

  “Thank you.” Copper placed the receiver back into the cradle, staring at what she’d scribbled down. If she remembered St. Louis right, that corner wasn’t far from where Crimson lived.

  She turned to face the bed. Jared sat on the coverlet, naked, with his lips drawn up into a tight frown. He looked pale against her dark purple cotton sheets and comforter.

  Grabbing a ponytail holder, she brushed her long hair out and put it up.

  “What the hell are you doing, Copper?” His pissed voice stroked her nerve endings with all the finesse of fingernails down a chalkboard.

  “I’m going to find my sister.”

  His frown lengthened. “You’re leaving?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “You know I don’t do well when you leave me.”

  Her mouth opened to say, You mean you do everyone else well when I leave, but somehow she managed to keep the words from rolling off her tongue. “I have to go, Jared. I have to find out what happened.”

  “Can’t you call the police?”

  She pulled an overnight bag out from under her bed. Looking at his abdomen, which was eye level, she noticed he had the start of a belly. He’d never had six-pack abs except for all the beer he packed in there. “You know I can’t.”

  “Leaving me for the bitch. I can’t believe this.”

  Copper picked up the bag and threw it at him, hitting him in the chest. She didn’t have time for this.

  “Hey! You threw that at me.”

  “Damn straight. Get out.”

  “What? You’re leaving me and kicking me out because of your sick-assed sister? You have a screw loose.”

  “I may have one loose, but you’re the one who likes to screw other people.” His eyes narrowed; he hated it when she brought that up, but he never defended himself. “Get out. I have more important things to do than to argue with you.” She grabbed the bag out of his hands, set it down, and tossed some underwear into it.

  “If I leave now, Cop, I’m not coming back. I won’t put up with this shit.”

  “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass, then, Jared.”

  He grabbed his clothes off the floor. “Fucking bitch. Like your pussy is golden.”

  She snatched his jeans out of his hands, marched to the door, and threw them into the hallway. “Get out now.”

  He sauntered across the threshold. “Your loss, babe.”

  “And the titty club’s gain. I hope it gets a disease and falls off.” She slammed the door before he could reply.

  Putting her head in her hands, she closed her eyes a minute. “Get a grip, Copper. You knew this was coming.” She had. And she had more important things to focus on than losing her on-again, off-again boyfriend. Shit was too good a word for him. She hadn’t even gotten laid.

  She tossed clothes into her overnight bag, trying not to think about what could be happening to Crimson at this moment. The stuff her sister did for kicks scared her most days. Whatever had made her scream like that had to be bad. Very bad.

  She picked up her keys and wallet, glancing around the one-room box she called home. Cleaning would have to wait. She shook her head with a worried smile. Crimson would say only she, with her neatness obsession, would think of that at a time like this. God, there better be a flight to St. Louis leaving tonight. One last look, and out she ran into the darkness.

  * * * * *

  Bastian De Luca slammed his hand against the telephone stand. Sniffed again, closing his eyes. His tongue shot out to lick his lips. The metallic scent of blood filled his nose. He panted, bringing the lust, which had filled him, under control. He’d pushed his limits and now paid the price with hunger.

  The phone rang. He looked at it, shrugged, and answered it.

  “Hello? Crimson?”

  “Who is this?” He didn’t recognize the voice.

  “Where’s Crimson, you son of a bitch? If you do anything to my sister ...”

  Bastian hung up the phone as the southern voice continued to rant. The sister. Crimson must have called her.

  Swallowing, he pulled out his cell. “She got away. Her blood is on the ground. A smattering. I want APB’s posted all over town.” He barely resisted the urge to swirl his gloved finger in the tiny puddle and taste it as he pocketed his phone. His mouth hungered to savor the small amount. It would be sweet. He already knew the taste of her. Licking concrete was not his idea of a good feeding, however. Pathetic he even entertained the idea of it.

  He cocked his head, looking both ways down the street surrounded by tall hotels and buildings. The arch by the river loomed large in the moonlit sky. “Where did you go, Crimson?”

  His boots clicked on the gravelly sidewalk as he turned left. Eyes narrowing, he looked for any sign of a trail. She’d been bleeding. She had to go one way or the other. He inhaled, trying to catch any scent he could of his prodigal girlfriend.

  A drip here. A drop there. A few feet away to the street. He crossed the road, eyes scanning. No more trail on either side. She’d been picked up. A vehicle. That had to be it for the path to end so abruptly.

  “Damn.” He ran a hand through his hair.

  A noise made him turn to the alley behind him. His nose tracked blood. Not Crimson’s. Different scent. A rat squeaked in the distance. He approached, his steps slow, his reflexes ready for an assault.

  The body lay at an angle to the building. Unmoving. The smell of cheap rum assailed his nostrils. The bag, with a broken bottle, lay at the entrance to the alley.

  The bum lay face-down
on the cold asphalt. Bastian turned him over. Blood had pooled under him like a black tide. His throat had been ripped out, shredded like hamburger. The body was still warm. He fought a shudder and stepped back from the temptation. Too easy to make a meal and leave evidence he’d been there. Leather gloves had protected his hands from leaving a print. Nothing would keep his mouth from leaving a signature.

  “What did you see?”

  Bastian couldn’t have missed them by much.

  “Damn,” he repeated. If he’d needed proof Crimson hadn’t run on her own, he had it. But was she being helped? Or hurt? What had the unlucky man seen?

  He scoured the surrounding blocks for anything that might give him a clue where the girl had gone. Nothing stood out as worthwhile. After getting far enough away from the crime scene, he alerted the police anonymously to the dead bum. Not that they’d have a clue who’d killed him. One thing about the killer: it wasn’t a human.

  He straddled his bike. What would the sister do? What had Crimson told her about her life? Perhaps he should find out. He tried the sister on his cell. No one answered. He’d never talked to her before now, despite knowing a little about her. He doubted she knew about him.

  At this time of night, where had she gone? One place came to mind. Here. To St. Louis. The worst place for her to be until he figured things out. Until he found Crimson. He’d better make arrangements to have Crimson’s sister watched.

  Taking out his cell again, he opened it. “I want the airports checked. For Copper Daly. Yes, it’s Crimson’s sister. I want her followed when she arrives.” He clicked off.

  His bike motored down the streets. Was Copper anything like her sister? Identical twins, not that that meant anything. Crimson never talked much about her family. She talked about Copper more than anyone else.