Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Collection 6-10

by Laurell Hamilton

  “I’m going to say this nice and slow, Jacob, so we understand each other. I don’t give a shit about being lupa. I care about my friends, and the people I’ve promised to protect. Gregory is one of those people. If he dies, you die.”

  “I’m not going to kill him, Anita. I just made sure there was a vote about it.”

  “Do you like John Wayne movies, Jacob?”

  He was quiet for a heartbeat. “I guess, I mean, what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Your fault, my fault, nobody’s fault, if Gregory dies, you die.”

  “Am I supposed to get the movie reference?” he asked. He sounded angry now.

  “I guess not, but the point is this. I will blame you personally if anything happens to Gregory, for any reason. If he comes to harm, so will you. If he bleeds, so do you. If he dies . . .”

  “I get the idea. But I don’t have a deciding vote on this issue. I’m just one vote.”

  “Then you better think of something, Jacob. Because I give you my word that I mean everything I say.”

  “I heard that about you.” He was quiet, and we stood on either end of the phone in silence, until he said, “What about Richard?”

  “What about him?”

  “If something happens to him what will you do?”

  “If I tell you that I’ll kill you if you kill him, that undercuts his authority as Ulfric. But I’ll say this much, if you defeat him, then it better be a fair fight in a challenge circle. If you cheat in any way, no matter how small, I’ll kill you.” I wanted so badly to just give Richard blanket protection, but I couldn’t. It would weaken his position, and his position was weak enough already.

  “But if it’s fair, you’ll stay out of it?”

  I leaned against the wall and tried to think. “I’ll be honest, Jacob, I love Richard. I don’t always understand him, or even agree with him, but I love him. I’m ready to kill you over someone who has never been my lover or even a good friend. So, yeah, you kill Richard, and I’m really, really going to want to kill you.”

  “But you won’t,” he said.

  I didn’t like how persistent he was about the issue. It made me nervous. “I’ll make you a deal, you don’t challenge Richard for Ulfric until after the next full moon, then whatever happens, as long as it’s fair, I’ll stay out of it.”

  “What if it’s sooner?” he asked.

  “Then I am going to rain all over your parade.”

  “You’re undercutting Richard’s authority,” he said.

  “No, Jacob, no I’m not. I wouldn’t be killing you because I was lupa or any werewolf stuff. I’d be killing you because I am just that vindictive. Give me a few weeks until after the full moon, and you’re in the clear on this one, if you’ve got the cajones to finish the job.”

  “You think Richard will kill me, instead?”

  “He killed the last Ulfric, Jacob. That’s how he got the job.”

  “If I don’t agree to this, you’ll just shoot me?”

  “From a nice, safe distance, oh, yeah.”

  “I can promise that I won’t challenge Richard until after the full moon, but I can’t promise that the vote won’t go against Gregory. He was one that Raina, the old lupa, used to help punish some members of the pack. There’s more than one woman here that he helped rape.”

  “I know.”

  “Then how can you defend him?”

  “He did what his old alpha told him to do, and what Raina, the wicked bitch of the west, told him to do. Gregory isn’t a dominant, he’s lesser, and he does what he’s told, like a good submissive shapeshifter. Ever since I took over as his alpha, he’s refused to rape and torture. As soon as he had a choice, he stopped doing it. Ask Sylvie. Gregory let himself be tortured instead of helping to rape her.”

  “She told the story to the pack.”

  “You don’t sound impressed.”

  “It’s not me you have to impress, Anita, it’s the others.”

  “Help me figure out a way to impress them, Jacob.”

  “Are you serious? You want me to help you save the leopard?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’m Geri of Thronnos Rokke clan. I don’t have to help a wereleopard that even you admit isn’t a dominant.”

  “Don’t go all class conscious on me, Jacob. Remember the early part of our conversation, the part about you dying? I blame you for the mess. And you will help me clean it up, or I will splatter your brains all over the walls.”

  “You can’t bring guns into the lupanar.”

  I laughed, and even to me it was an unsettling sound, creepy even. “You going to spend the rest of your life inside the lupanar?”

  “Jesus,” he said, voice soft, “you’re talking about assassinating me.”

  I laughed again. A small voice in my head was screaming at me, telling me I was being a very good sociopath. But Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm wasn’t going to cut it with Jacob. Maybe later I could afford to be soft. “I think we finally understand each other, Jacob. Here’s my cell phone number. You call me before tomorrow night with a plan.”

  “What if I can’t come up with one?”

  “Not my problem.”

  “You’ll kill me even if I try and save him—really try and save your leopard, but fail. You’ll still kill me.”

  “Yes.”

  “You cold bitch.”

  “Sticks and stones will break your bones, but failure will get you killed. Call me, Jacob, make it soon.” I hung up the phone.

  11

  “I SEE WHAT you mean about you being practical,” Micah said. He was standing quietly watching me, face carefully neutral, but he couldn’t quite keep everything off his face. He was pleased. Pleased with me, I think.

  “You not going to run screaming because I’m a bloodthirsty sociopath?”

  He smiled, and again his long lashes came down over his eyes. “I don’t think you’re a sociopath, Anita. I think you do what needs doing to protect your pard.” He raised that yellow-green gaze to me. “I find that admirable, not something to criticize.”

  I sighed. “Good that someone approves.”

  He smiled, and it was that mixture of condescension, happiness, and sorrow, that I’d seen before. A complex smile, that. “The Ulfric means well.”

  “You know what they say about good intentions, Micah. If he’s determined to take himself to hell, fine. But he has no right to drag the rest of us along with him.”

  “I agree.”

  It made me tired that Micah agreed with me. I wasn’t in love with him. Why couldn’t it be Richard who agreed with me? Of course, there was someone else. I needed to get to Jean-Claude while it was still dark.

  “I had to put off the shower, first to be a gentleman, and let you go first, then so the noise wouldn’t interrupt your phone call. I need to get clean now, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll give you some privacy.” I turned towards the door.

  “It wasn’t privacy I was asking for, just explaining why I was turning the water on during our conversation.” he said.

  That turned me around at the door. “What conversation?”

  He turned on the shower, testing the water with his hand, adjusting the heat, talking over his shoulder. “I’ve never felt another Nimir-Ra with the kind of power you put off. It was amazing.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it, but I’ve really got to go.”

  He turned to face me, stepping back into the water, throwing his head back for a second to wet his hair. The water hit his neck and he let out a hissing breath, bending over at the shoulders like it really hurt.

  I went back into the room. “Are you alright?”

  He nodded and stopped in mid-motion. “I will be.”

  I was close enough that when he raised his head I could see the water beaded on his face, clinging in thick drops to his lashes. I stood to one side, getting sprayed with just the faintest mist of the water. I got my first good look at the side of his neck. “Shit.” I rea
ched through the water to touch his face, turned him slowly so I could see the bite.

  He had a perfect imprint of my teeth in the right side of his neck. The wound was still seeping blood, so the circle of toothmarks was filled with crimson. The tanned flesh of his neck was already bruising, dark colors swirling to the surface of his skin.

  “God, Micah, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, it is a love bite.”

  I dropped my hand from his face. “Yeah, right, it looks like I tried to eat your throat out.” I frowned. “Why hasn’t it started healing?”

  “Wounds made by the teeth and claws of another lycanthrope heal slower than most, not as slow as silver, but slower than say, steel.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “And I said, don’t be sorry.”

  “The last Ulfric I bit like this—and it wasn’t nearly this bad, I didn’t even break the skin—he considered it an insult. He said, it meant I considered myself higher in the pack than he was.”

  “We are not wolves. To the pard a wound on the neck from a Nimir-Ra is a sign that the sex was good.”

  That made me blush.

  “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, just to explain that you don’t owe me an apology. I enjoyed it.”

  I blushed harder.

  “Together we could do great things for our pard.”

  I shook my head. “We won’t know for sure that I’m going to be Nimir-Ra for a few days. Let’s take it slow until then.”

  “If you want to.” His gaze was too direct, and I was suddenly aware that he was nude in a shower. I was getting better at ignoring, or at least not being bothered, around nudity. But there were moments when you had to be aware of it, when the look in the other person’s eyes made you aware of it.

  “I want to,” I said.

  He turned his back, lowering his head so the water beat on his shoulders, back, lower things. The spray widened as he moved through it, spattering on my face, shoulders, arms, legs, across the towel. It was time for me to leave, past time.

  I was at the door again when he called after me. “Anita.”

  I turned back.

  He was standing facing me, rubbing liquid soap from one of the wall dispensers on his body. He was doing his arms as I turned around, lathering his chest as he talked. “If you want us to go with you tomorrow, we would be honored.”

  “I can’t let you drag your pard into our mess.”

  His hands slid downward, trailing white suds over his stomach, his hips, then slid between his legs, working the soap over himself. I knew from my own experience of getting the stuff off me that you had to scrub more where it had touched you, but his hands stayed, until he was slick, thick with bubbles, and partially erect by the time his hands slid to his thighs.

  My mouth was dry, and I realized we hadn’t said anything in several minutes. I’d just been watching him spread soap on himself. The thought brought heat in a rush up my face. Micah continued to soap his legs slowly, taking more time with each movement than he needed to. He was definitely doing it for my benefit. I needed to leave.

  “If you are my Nimir-Ra, then your mess is my mess,” he said, head still bent over his legs, face hidden from me, so that all I could see was the line of his body as he stood in the aisle, away from the water so the soap wouldn’t rub off.

  I had to clear my throat to say, “I don’t want to pick out curtains, Micah.”

  “The power between us is enough that I’ll agree to any arrangement you want.” He stood up then, stretching his arm back to soap his shoulders. It made him stretch the front of his body in a long line, and I was painfully aware of him. I turned, really meaning to go out the door this time.

  “Anita,” he said.

  I stopped in the doorway, but this time I didn’t turn around. “What?” I sounded grumpy.

  “It’s alright to be attracted to me. You can’t help yourself.”

  That made me laugh, a good normal laugh. “Oh, you don’t have a high opinion of yourself, do you?” But I stayed facing away from him.

  “It’s not a high opinion of myself. You are a Nimir-Ra, and I am the first Nimir-Raj that you’ve ever met. Our power, our beasts are attracted to each other. We’re meant to be attracted to each other.”

  I turned then, slowly, trying for eye contact and failing. He was turned away with the back of his body facing me. He was still spreading soap over his shoulders. The suds slid slowly down his skin towards his slim waist.

  “We don’t know yet that I’m a were-anything.” My voice was breathy.

  He managed to reach his entire back, his arms moving effortlessly over his skin, hands smoothing over the tightness of his buttocks. “You feel the call of my body, as I feel yours.”

  My pulse was beating way too hard. “You’re an attractive man, naked, covered in soap. I’m human, so sue me.”

  He turned around, still soaped and slick. And he was huge.

  My mouth went dry. My body tightened so hard and so suddenly, it almost hurt. It deepened my breathing, made me have to swallow my pulse.

  “You’re not human, that’s the difference. That’s why you keep looking even when you don’t want to.” He walked towards me, slowly, moving like all leopards could move when they wanted to. Like he had muscles in places that humans didn’t. He glided towards me like some great, slinking cat, his nude body glistening with suds and water, his hair plastered in ringlets to his shoulders, around his face. Those huge yellow green eyes suddenly looked perfectly at home in his face.

  “You don’t understand yet how rare it is for two lycanthropes to share their beasts as we did.” He was almost in front of me now. “They flowed in and out of our bodies.” He stood there, not touching, not yet. “They were like two great cats, rubbing their furred sides against each other.” He ran his hands slick with soap up my bare arms as he said it. I had to close my eyes. He was describing exactly how it had felt, as if he had read my mind, or had felt exactly the same thing.

  His hands slid up my arms to my shoulders, to my neck, spreading slick and wet across my skin. His soapy hands cupped my face, and I felt his face moving towards mine before his lips touched me. The kiss was gentle, his body carefully not touching me.

  He slid his fingers into the edge of the towel, gripping the cloth, pulling me forward. It made me open my eyes. It took a few steps to realize he was leading me towards the water.

  “You’ll need to wash the soap off,” he said.

  I was shaking my head, and finally stopped moving with him. He kept pulling on the towel and it unwrapped, starting to slide down my body. I grabbed it, holding it just below my suddenly bare breasts.

  “No,” I said, my voice strangled, but I repeated it. “No.”

  He stepped into me, pressing the slick hardness of him against my lower hand and arm. He tried to uncurl my fingers from the towel, and I held on for dear life. “Touch me, Anita, cup me in your hands.”

  “No.”

  “I know you want to. I can smell it,” and he moved his face above my skin, drawing his breath in and out against my wet skin. “I can feel it.” He rubbed his hands up my arms again, over my shoulders, down towards my breasts, but stopped without touching them. “I can taste it.” He licked a slow line along the edge of my cheek. I shivered and wanted to step back, but it was like I was frozen in place. I couldn’t move.

  I found my voice, shaky, but mine. My hands clutched to my body, because I knew if I touched him we were in trouble. “This isn’t like me, Micah. I’m not like this. You’re a stranger. I don’t do strangers.”

  “I’m not a stranger. I’m your Nimir-Raj, and you are my Nimir-Ra. We could never be strangers.”

  He kissed his way down my face to my neck, biting gently at me, and it made my knees weak. He came back up to my lips, and when he kissed me I could taste the soap from my skin. The feel of him pressed against the front of my body, close enough that if I opened my hand I’d be able to hold him, was overwhelming. I realized it was more than just
sex. I wanted to feed off of him again, not with my teeth but with my body. I wanted to drink in the energy of him through my skin, my bare skin pressed to his. I wanted it so badly. His hands slid over my breasts, covering them in soap, making them slick, the nipples already tight and hard. My arms slid around his waist, using the pressure of our bodies to keep the towel in place. He moved against my body, and his chest was so slick, so smooth rubbing against my breasts.

  He began to walk backwards with his arms locked behind me, moving us back towards the water. My hands moved over the slick hardness of his back, sliding dangerously lower. It was as if I wanted to press every inch of myself to him, to roll his body around me like a sheet and drink him in through the pores of my skin.

  I opened that link with Jean-Claude and found him sitting, waiting, patient. I called for help, and distantly I heard his voice in my head. “It is all I can do, ma petite, to control my own appetites, you must control your own.”

  “What’s happening to me?” Even as I asked, Micah moved his body that fraction away that allowed the towel to slide down, and when he quickly moved back, he was pressed against my groin and stomach, and it was déja` vu enough to draw a small sound out of my throat.

  Jean-Claude looked up, and I knew that he saw what was happening with Micah, that with a thought he could feel what was happening, as if it were his hands sliding down the slick, soaped skin. My hand slid over the thick hardness of Micah. He half-collapsed against me, as I caressed him, and I knew that it hadn’t been my idea to touch him. Jean-Claude had wanted to know what it felt like. He drew away enough for me to move my hand, but the damage had been done. Micah dragged me into the water, surer now than ever that I would say yes.

  Jean-Claude’s voice in my head. “You can feed off his lust, but the price for that is that you will crave his lust, his sex. It is the double-edged sword of being incubus. The sword edge I have walked for centuries.”

  “Help me!”

  “I cannot. You must ride this thing yourself. And you will either conquer it, or be conquered. You felt what happened when I interfered just now. Because I have denied myself feeding through my body. I knew you would not approve, so I denied myself. And being inside your body while you touch him, while you feed, would be my undoing. I crave you more than you will ever crave the man in your arms. I have wanted to take your body in the way that only I could take it. To feed from your sex, not from a vein. But I knew that would frighten you more than blood.”