Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Collection 6-10

by Laurell Hamilton

  Nathaniel had rolled automatically onto his side, his back to me, waiting for me to close the distance between us. He’d already moved his hair to one side like a blanket that had to be moved out of the way, leaving his back and part of his neck smooth and bare. I lay there for a second or two, then thought, screw it. I moved in against him, pressing myself to the smooth warmth of his body, my arm sliding around his waist. He was just a few inches taller than me, enough that I cuddled down just a little, pressing my face into his back, in the hollow behind his shoulder blade. It was the way we’d gone to sleep for a long time.

  “Now I do feel left out,” Jason said.

  I sighed, clutching Nathaniel a little tighter. “Do you promise not to try anything?”

  “I promise to be good.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  He gave a small laugh. “You’re better than you used to be at this game. Okay, I promise not to try anything.”

  “Then you can get closer, if you want to.”

  “You know I do,” he said. I could feel him moving across the bed towards us.

  “You also promised to be good.”

  “You have no idea how good I can be.” He was very close when he said the last.

  “You’re pushing it, Jason.”

  “Sorry.” But he didn’t sound sorry. He curled against my back, his body spooning against me, his knees bending into a near perfect line behind mine. We were within an inch of being the same height, which made spooning easy. It also put certain parts of his anatomy up against my butt, and it was hard not to notice that he was happy to be there. Not too long ago, I’d have made him move, but I’d spent months learning shapeshifter etiquette. The men tried their best not to get erections, and not to use them when they did; the women tried to ignore the fact that they had them. That was the rule. It allowed everyone to pretend we were just a bunch of puppies sleeping in a nice friendly pile. To acknowledge anything else meant the system fell apart.

  I realized that it didn’t bother me. Over the months I’d learned that it was just one of those involuntary things that happened, nothing truly personal. I think Jason was disappointed that he didn’t get more of a reaction from me. When I didn’t react at all, he moved his hips just a fraction away from me, but snuggled the rest of himself against me more tightly.

  I was effectively sandwiched between them, and it reminded me forcibly of waking up between Caleb and Micah. Not a comforting memory. But the smell of Nathaniel’s skin was familiar. The vanilla scent of his hair where it edged my face and stretched under his body was comforting. I drew the scent of him around me like a blanket, pulled my body in as close to the warm curve of him as I could go and not come out the other side, and clung. I acknowledged in my head, though never aloud, that tonight I clung. I held him like he was the last solid thing in the world, the way I’d wanted to hold Jean-Claude and couldn’t.

  Jason’s hand smoothed along my hip, but I’d forced his hand up from around my waist when I tucked so tightly against Nathaniel; there was really nowhere else for it to go. His hand was very still against my bare leg, and there was a tension to him, as if he was waiting for me to protest. When I didn’t, he relaxed and even moved his entire body back against me. He’d managed to calm himself. Good for him.

  Honestly, it was nice having Jason’s weight at my back. Normally, I spooned Nathaniel—took the dominant position with my body protecting his—my back bare to the room. But I wasn’t feeling particularly dominant. I wanted someone to have my back. And, if it couldn’t be Jean-Claude, or Richard, Jason wasn’t a bad choice. For all his teasing, he was my friend.

  Nathaniel fell asleep first; he usually drifted off faster than I did. Somehow I knew that Jason was still awake pressed against my back, his hand on my thigh. I could feel a tension in him as I began to drift off, and strangely, it was comforting. Jason literally had my back. It meant I could sleep, and between the three of us, whatever came through the door, we could probably handle it. Probably.

  15

  I WAS DREAMING. Something confusing about bodies and running and a ringing noise that made the crowd run faster. Ringing noise? I woke up enough to feel Nathaniel move beside me. He groped over the side of the bed and came up with my cell phone from my pile of clothes. He handed the ringing phone to me. “It’s for you.”

  Jason mumbled, “God, what time is it?”

  I flipped the phone open and put it to my ear before anyone answered his question. “Yeah, it’s me.” I was only half awake.

  “Anita?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “It’s Rafael.”

  That made me sit up. Rafael was the wererat king. Their equivalent of an Ulfric. He was also Richard’s ally. “I’m here, what’s up?”

  “First, my condolences. I hear you may be Nimir-Ra in truth next full moon.”

  “Gee, news does travel fast,” I said, trying not to sound bitter, but failing.

  “Second, I know the pack has one of your leopards, and that you must try and win him back from them tonight. You are allowed to bring allies with you, and I would be honored if you would allow the wererats to accompany you.”

  “I appreciate the gesture, Rafael, you don’t know how much I appreciate it, but I’m not lupa anymore. Your treaty is with the pack, and I’m not pack anymore.”

  “True, but you risked yourself once to save me from torture, and possible death. I told you then that the wererats would not forget what you had done for us.”

  “What about your treaty with Richard?”

  “It’s with Richard, not the pack.”

  “Showing up at my back tonight is still a conflict of interests, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t think so. I think it will make the point that if Richard is no longer Ulfric, the wererats will not be the werewolves’ allies.”

  “You’ll show up with me tonight to make it clear that your treaty is with Richard and not the pack?”

  Jason sat up in the bed.

  “Yes,” Rafael said.

  “Clever you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So you don’t like Jacob either?”

  Jason moved closer to me, as if he could hear Rafael’s side of the conversation. Maybe he could.

  “No,” Rafael said.

  “Me either.”

  “So I will meet you at your home tonight before we drive to the lupanar.”

  “Just you?” I made it a question.

  “Oh, no, we will be there in force so the point is not lost on Jacob’s supporters.”

  “I like the way you think,” I said.

  “I wish Richard did,” Rafael said.

  “Have you tried to get him to execute Jacob, too?” I asked.

  “I knew you would understand both the problem and the needed solution, Anita.”

  “Oh, I understand. I just wish Richard did.”

  “Yes,” Rafael said, “yes. Jacob is not the man Richard is, but he has some qualities that I would wish on Richard if I could.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’ll meet you tonight at your house at full dark.”

  “I’ll be there. And Rafael . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks.”

  “No thanks are necessary. The rats owe you a debt. We pay our debts.”

  “And it allows you to make a threat to Jacob and his supporters without doing anything that could start a war,” I said.

  “As I said, Anita, you understand things that Richard does not. Until tonight.”

  “Until tonight,” I said. He hung up. I hung up, flipping the phone closed. Jason was practically leaning over my shoulder.

  “Did I just hear that Rafael and the wererats are going with you tonight to the lupanar?”

  “You going to tattle to Richard?” I asked, staring at his face from inches away, his back touching my shoulder.

  “No.”

  My eyes widened.

  “Unless Richard specifically asks, ‘Is Rafael goin
g to be there tonight as Anita’s ally?’ then I don’t have to answer. And I’m not volunteering the information.”

  “That’s cutting your oath of obedience pretty close, isn’t it?”

  “My loyalty is to Richard. And having the rats with you tonight will help Richard, not hurt him.”

  I nodded. “Sometimes you have to keep things from Richard to help him.”

  “Unfortunately,” Jason said.

  I handed the phone to Nathaniel, who put it back on the floor with my clothes. I checked my watch. It was ten o’clock; we’d had a little over six hours of sleep. Time to start the day. Yippee! It was still hours before I could expect Jean-Claude to be awake.

  I snuggled down into the covers on my back. Nathaniel rolled onto his side, hand going across my stomach, one leg entwined over my legs. His second favorite sleeping position, though one I often had to move him out of before I could go to sleep. But I wasn’t sleeping, I was thinking, so it was okay.

  He rubbed his cheek against my shoulder, and a small movement of his lower body pressed him against me. He was hard and firm under the silky shorts. It was morning, he was male, it was normal. Normally, I could ignore it, just one of those things that you pretended didn’t happen, but today . . . Today the feel of him pressed against me made things low in my body clench tight. The need rode through my body like fire spilling through me, over me, inside me.

  Nathaniel went very still beside me.

  Jason was sitting up, rubbing his bare arms. “What was that?”

  I tried not to move, not to breathe, to just be as still as Nathaniel. I tried to think of something besides the warmth of his body pressed against the length of mine. Tried not to feel the press of him hard and ready through the satin of the jogging shorts. I grabbed the sheet and jerked it off of us in one violent movement. I gazed down the length of his body, of our bodies, pressed together. The shorts clung like a second skin to the back of him. The ardeur rushed through me again like a new pulse I’d never felt before, and my beast rose up through the depths with it. It was as if they were tied together. I hungered, and my beast woke, rolling inside me like a lazy cat, stretching, eyeing the mouse. Except what this cat wanted to do to the mouse was not only against the laws of nature, but physically impossible. The trouble was this mouse smelled of vanilla and fur, and he was warm and full against me. I wanted to roll him over on his back and tear off the shorts and see what I was feeling. I wanted to lick down his chest, down his stomach, and . . . The visual was so strong that I had to close my eyes against the sight of him lying there. But sight wasn’t my only problem. The smell of his skin was suddenly overwhelming, sweet. And I had a desire to roll my body on top of his, not for sex exactly, but to paint his scent on my body, to wear it like a dress.

  “Anita,” it was Jason. “What’s happening?”

  I opened my eyes to find him bending over me, propped on one elbow, and the ardeur widened to include him. It did not discriminate. I touched his face, ran my fingers down the edge of his cheek, traced the fullness of his lower lip with my thumb.

  He moved his mouth back just enough to speak. “Jean-Claude said you’d inherited his need, his incubus. I don’t think I believed him . . .” My hand traced down his face, his neck, his chest. “. . . until now,” he whispered.

  My hand stopped over his heart. It beat against my hand, and I could suddenly feel my pulse in my palm beating against his skin, as if my heart had spilled down my arm to cup against his body.

  “Ask me why Jean-Claude insisted I stay in here today.”

  I just looked at him. I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. I could feel his heart, almost caress it. His heart sped, beating faster. My heart sped to catch it, until our hearts were beating together, and it was hard to tell where one pulse stopped and the other began. I could taste his heartbeat in my mouth as if it pulsed inside me already, caressing the roof of my mouth as if I had already taken a bite of him.

  I closed my eyes and tried to distance myself from the ebb and flow of his body, his warmth, his need.

  “Jean-Claude was afraid you’d try to feed on Nathaniel. I’m supposed to keep that from happening.” His voice was breathy.

  I raised up, and Nathaniel’s arms curled around my waist, pressing his face into my side. I sat up beside Jason with Nathaniel like a tempting weight wrapped around my body. My hand stayed on Jason’s chest, cupping his heart. He should have moved away, but he didn’t. I could feel his desire, feel the need in him. It was a pure desire, not for power, or anything else, just simply for me. It wasn’t love, but it was purity of a sort. He simply wanted me. I stared into his blue eyes, and there was no deceit, no agenda. Jason didn’t want to secure his power base, or gain mystical energy, he just wanted to have sex with me, to hold me in his arms.

  I’d always treated Jason as lesser than a friend, young and amusing, not serious. Jean-Claude’s ardeur let me see into his heart, and I found it the most pure of any that I’d looked into in a long time.

  I stared down at Nathaniel where he lay clinging to me. I knew his heart, too. He wanted me physically, but more, he wanted me to want him. He wanted to belong to me in every way. He longed for safety, a home, someone to take care of him, and to take care of. He saw in me all the things that he’d lost over the years. But he didn’t really see me; he saw an ideal of me that he wanted.

  I ran my hand down his arm, and he snuggled against me. I looked back at Jason and let my other hand drop away from him, but it was like I pulled something out of him as it moved; his heart still beat inside my body. We didn’t have to touch for that.

  The fact that Jason wanted me just for me with no ulterior motives made me want to reward him. Made me love him just a little. It overrode the hunger, stilled my beast, helped me think.

  “Get out, both of you, get out.”

  “Anita, is that you?”

  “Go, Jason, take him with you, and go.”

  “I don’t want to go,” Nathaniel said.

  I grabbed a handful of that thick hair and raised him to his knees with it. I expected to see fear in his eyes, or betrayal, but what I saw was eagerness. I used his hair as a handle and drew him to me until our faces almost touched. I felt his heart thudding, the thrill through his body as I drew him into me. Nathaniel would never tell me no.

  If someone can’t tell you no, it’s rape, or something like it. The ardeur poured through me, taking my breath in a long shuddering line. I wanted to kiss Nathaniel, to fill his mouth with my tongue. And I knew if I did, it would be too late.

  My voice came out strangled. “You will go when I tell you to go, now get out!” I released my hold on him so suddenly that he fell back against the bed.

  Jason was on the other side of the bed, pulling Nathaniel away from me, pushing him towards the door. Watching them go made me want to cry, or scream. They were perfect for feeding. The room was thick with mutual desire, and I was sending them away. I could still feel their heartbeats like candy in my mouth, like a double echo of my own heart.

  I covered my eyes with my hands and screamed, wordless, pain-filled. It was as if the hunger finally realized that I was truly going to let them go. It raged through me, tearing one ragged scream from my mouth after another, as fast as I could draw breath. I lay on the bed in the silk sheets, writhing, screaming. I had a sudden memory, and it wasn’t mine, of this need denied, locked away in the dark where no hand could touch you, where no skin could melt into yours. I felt the faintest edge of Jean-Claude’s madness after that particular punishment. He’d healed, but the memory was still raw.

  Hands on me, holding me down. I opened my eyes to find Nathaniel and Jason holding me down. They each had a hand on one wrist and one leg. They could bench press small elephants, but as my body writhed against the bed, I raised them up, made them struggle to hold me.

  “Anita, you’re hurting yourself,” Jason said.

  I looked down my body and found bloody scratches on my arms and legs. I had to have done it, but I didn’t
remember doing it. The sight of those bloody scratches calmed me, made me lie still under their hands.

  “I’m going to get something to tie you down with just until Jean-Claude rises,” Jason said.

  I nodded, afraid to speak, afraid of what I’d say.

  He told Nathaniel to hold me, but the only way one person could do that was to hold my wrists while pressing against me with his lower body. It wasn’t perfect control, but it kept me from hurting myself.

  Nathaniel’s hair fell around our bodies with a dry rushing sound, until I saw the world through a curtain of his hair. The scent of him was like some warm pressure between his upraised chest and mine. I could smell the fresh scent of blood, too. And my beast wanted to lick the wounds, wanted to feed on my own skin, or better yet, open wounds on Nathaniel and feed off of him. Just the thought tightened my body, made me writhe underneath him, until I’d freed my legs and he slid against me, only our clothing separating us. He made a small sound, half-protest, half-something else.

  I raised my wrists off the bed, pushing against his grip on me. I felt his arms strain against me, forcing me back against the bed. It shouldn’t have been a struggle for him to hold me here like this. I was gaining other things besides hunger through the marks, or the beast. Nathaniel was still stronger than I was, I could feel that. But there are things besides strength that count when you’re struggling. I raised my arms from the bed again, only a few inches, and he forced me down again. But when I had enough room, I rotated my right wrist against his thumb, and my hand was free.

  I raised up enough to kiss his chest, and he went very still above me. I knew in that instant that he wouldn’t try and regain control of my arm. I bit him, gently, and his breath went out in a soft, sharp sound. I licked my way up his chest, with him still holding my left arm, his lower body still pinning mine. I ran my tongue over his nipple and felt his breathing quicken. I locked my mouth around his nipple and bit into the skin, the flesh underneath. He shuddered above me, his body jerking enough that I had to be careful not to break the skin. But I held on as he moaned above me, and when I drew back, I saw that I had left a near perfect imprint of my teeth behind.