"You don't sound happy to see me." He was wearing a fishnet T-shirt. His jeans were faded and soft with one knee completely out. He was twenty and had been a college student before he'd joined the pack. Now he was Jean-Claude's wolf, and playing bodyguard and breakfast entree to the Master Vampire of the City seemed to be his only job.
"Isn't it a little early in the morning for fishnet?"
"Wait until you see what I'm wearing to tonight's gala opening of Jean-Claude's dance club."
"I may not be able to make it," I said.
He raised his eyebrows. "You spend one night under Richard's roof, and you break a date with Jean-Claude." He shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Look, neither of them own me, okay?"
Jason backed up, hands held up in mock surrender. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. You know it will piss Jean-Claude off, and you know he'll think you slept with Richard."
"I didn't."
He glanced at the closed door. "I know that, and I am shocked, Anita, at your choice of bed partners."
"When you tell Jean-Claude that I slept with Stephen, you make absolutely sure he knows we just shared the bed and nothing else. If Jean-Claude gives Stephen a hard time because of your word games, I'll be angry. You don't want me angry, Jason."
He looked at me for a heartbeat or two. Something slid behind his eyes, his beast stirring to life, just a touch. Jason had a small streak of what Gabriel had a big streak of. A fascination with danger, pain, and simply being an all round pain in the ass. Jason was tolerable, not a bad guy, all in all; Gabriel was perverted; but it was still the same personality flaw done small. After what I'd seen last night, I wondered what Jason would have thought of the entertainment. I was almost sure he'd have disapproved, but not a hundred percent sure, which told you something about Jason.
"Did you really draw a machine gun on Raina and Gabriel last night?"
"Yeah, I did."
A woman stepped out of Richard's bedroom with an armful of towels. She was about five foot six, with short brown hair so curly it had to be natural. She wore navy slacks and a short-sleeved sweater. Open-toed sandals completed the outfit. She looked me up and down, sort of disapproving or maybe disappointed. "You must be Anita Blake."
"And you are?"
"Sylvie Barker." She offered a hand and I took it. The moment I touched her skin, I knew what she was. "Are you with the pack?" I asked.
She took her hand back and blinked at me. "How could you tell?"
"If you're trying to pass for human, don't touch someone who knows what they're looking for. Your power prickles down my skin."
"I won't waste time trying to pass then." Her power flooded over me, pouring like a blast of heat when you open an oven door.
"Impressive," I said, glad my voice was steady.
She gave a small smile. "That's quite a compliment, coming from you. Now, I've got to get these towels to the kitchen."
"What's happening?" I asked.
Sylvie and Jason exchanged glances. She shook her head. "You knew Richard was hurt?" She made it a question.
My stomach clenched tight. "He said he'd be all right."
"He will be," she said.
I felt my skin go pale. "Where is he?"
"Kitchen," Jason said.
I didn't run, it wasn't that far, but I wanted to. Richard sat at the kitchen table, shirtless, his back to me. His back was a mass of fresh claw marks. There was a bite mark in his left shoulder where a piece of flesh was missing.
Dr. Lillian was blotting blood off his back with a kitchen towel. She was a small woman in her mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair cut in a short, no-nonsense style. She'd treated my own wounds twice before, once when she was furry and looked like a giant man-rat.
"If you had called for medical attention last night, I wouldn't be having to do this, Richard. I do not enjoy causing my patients pain."
"Marcus was on call last night," Richard said. "Under the circumstances, I thought it best to go without."
"You could have let someone clean and bandage the wounds."
"Yes, Richard, you could have let me help you," I said.
He glanced back over his shoulder, his hair spilling around his face. There was a bandage on his forehead. "I'd had enough help for one night."
"Why? Because I'm a woman, or because you know I'm right?"
Lillian took a small silver knife to the lower half of a claw mark. She sliced the blade down the wound, reopening it. Richard took in a deep breath and let it out.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Lycanthropes heal, but sometimes without medical attention, we can scar. Most of the wounds will heal, but a few of them are deep enough that he really needs some stitching before the skin starts to close, so I'm having to reopen some of the wounds and add a few stitches."
Sylvie handed Dr. Lillian the towels.
"Thank you, Sylvie."
"What are you two lovebirds fighting about?" Sylvie asked.
"Let Richard tell you, if he wants to."
"Anita agrees with you," Richard said. "She thinks I should start killing people."
I walked over to where he could see me without straining. I leaned against the cabinet island and tried to watch his face rather than Lillian's slicing knife. "I don't want you to start killing people indiscriminately, Richard. Just back your threat up. Kill one person and the rest will back down."
He glared up at me, outraged. "You mean make an example of one of them?"
Put that way, it sounded sort of cold-blooded, but truth was truth. "Yeah, that's what I mean."
"Oh, I like her," Sylvie said.
"I knew you would," Jason said. They exchanged a glance that I didn't quite get, but it seemed to amuse the hell out of them.
"Am I missing a joke here?"
They both shook their heads.
I let it go. Richard and I were still fighting, and I was beginning to think this fight had no end. He winced as the doctor sliced open another wound. She was only adding a stitch here and there, but it was still more than I'd have wanted in my flesh. I didn't like stitches.
"No painkillers?" I asked.
"Anesthesia doesn't work well on us. We metabolize it too quickly," Lillian said. She wiped the silver knife on one of the clean towels and said, "One of the claw marks drops below your jeans. Take them off so I can see."
I glanced at Sylvie. She smiled at me. "Don't mind me. I like girls."
"That's what you two were laughing about," I said to Jason.
He nodded, smiling happily.
I shook my head.
"The others will be here soon for the meeting. I don't want my ass hanging out as everyone comes in the door." Richard stood up. "Let's finish up in the bedroom." There were a ring of puncture wounds just below his collarbone. I remembered the man-wolf lifting with its claws last night.
"You could have been killed," I said.
He glanced at me. "But I wasn't. Isn't that what you always say?"
I hated having my own words fed back to me. "You could have killed Sebastian or Jamil and the rest wouldn't have jumped you."
"You've already decided who I should kill." His voice was thick with anger.
"Yeah," I said.
"She's actually making pretty good choices," Sylvie said.
Richard turned his dark, dark eyes to her. "You stay out of this."
"If it was just a lovers' quarrel, Richard, I would," she said. She went to stand in front of him. "But Anita's not saying anything that I haven't said. That most of us haven't begged you to do. For a few months, I was willing to try it your way. I hoped you were right, but it isn't working, Richard. Either you're alpha male or you're not."
"Is that a challenge?" he asked. His voice had grown very quiet. Power flowed through the room like a warm wind.
Sylvie backed up a step. "You know it's not."
"Do I?" he said. The power in the room built, growing like a flash of electricity. The hairs on my arms stood
to attention.
Sylvie stopped backing up, hands in fists at her sides. "If I thought I could defeat Marcus, I'd do it. If I could protect us all, I would. But I can't do it, Richard. You're our only chance."
Richard loomed over her. It wasn't just physical size. His power flowed over her, filled the room, until it was almost chokingly close.
"I won't kill just because you think I should, Sylvie. No one is going to force me into it. No one."
He turned his gaze on me, and it took a lot to meet his eyes. There was a force to them, a burning weight. It wasn't a vampire's drowning power, but it was something. My skin shivered with his power, his energy, and I didn't turn away.
I stared at the wounds just below his neck and knew I'd come close to losing him. That was unacceptable.
I walked closer until I could have reached out and touched him. His otherworldly energy whirled over me until it was hard to draw a good breath. "We need to talk, Richard."
"I don't have time for this right now, Anita."
"Make time," I said.
He glared down at me. "Talk to me while Lillian finishes up. I've got people coming over for a meeting in about fifteen minutes."
"What meeting?" I asked.
"To discuss the Marcus situation," Sylvie said. "He scheduled the meeting before last night's adventure."
Richard stared at her, and it wasn't a friendly look. "If I'd wanted her to know about the meeting, I'd have told her."
"What else haven't you told me Richard?"
He turned those angry eyes to me. "What haven't you told me?"
I blinked at him, genuinely puzzled. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"A shotgun fires over your head twice and you don't know what I'm talking about."
Oh that. "I did the right thing, Richard."
"You're always right, aren't you?"
I looked at the floor and shook my head. When I looked back at him, he was still angry, but I was losing my anger. A first. This was going to be thefight. The one that ended it. I wasn't wrong. No amount of talking would change that. But if we were going to break up, we'd go down in flames. "Let's finish this, Richard. You wanted to go into the bedroom."
He stood up, body stiff with an anger that was deeper than I could comprehend. It was controlled rage, and I didn't understand where it was coming from. It was a bad sign. "You sure you can stand to see me naked?" His voice was utterly bitter, and I didn't know why.
"What's wrong, Richard? What did I do?"
He shook his head too vigorously, making him wince as his shoulder caught the movement. "Nothing, nothing." He walked out of the room. Lillian looked at me, but followed him. I sighed and joined them. I wasn't looking forward to the next few minutes, but I wasn't going to chicken out. We'd say all the ugly things and make it as nasty as possible. Trouble was, I didn't have any nasty things to say. It made the fight a lot less fun for me.
Jason whispered as I walked by, very softly, "Go, Anita, go, Anita."
It made me smile.
Sylvie watched me with cool eyes. "Good luck." It didn't sound completely sincere.
"Do you have a problem?" I'd have much rather fought with her than Richard.
"If he wasn't dating you, then he might choose a mate. It would help things."
"You want the job?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, "I do, but sex is integral and I'm not up for it."
"Then I'm not standing in your way," I said.
"Not in mine, no," she said. Which implied there were others, but I didn't give a shit, not today. I said, "It is too damn early in the morning for furball politics. If someone wants a piece of me, tell them to go to the back of the line."
She cocked her head to one side, like a curious dog. "Is it a long line?"
"Lately, yeah."
"I thought all your enemies were dead," Jason said.
"I keep making new ones," I said.
He smiled. "Fancy that."
I shook my head and walked towards the bedroom. I'd have rather faced Raina again than Richard. I almost hoped the assassin would jump out of the woodwork and give me something to shoot at. It would hurt less than breaking up with Richard.
10
Richard's bedroom was painted pale green, a vibrant rug thrown in front of the bed like a piece of stained glass. The bed was a heavy four-poster, and even hurt, he'd made the bed, pulling the solid red spread up over it. He had three solid spreads that he rotated on the bed; green, blue, and red. Each color picked up a different color in the rug and the painting over the bed. The painting was of wolves in a winter scene. The wolves were looking directly out of the picture as if you'd just come around a tree and surprised them. There was a deer bleeding on the snow, its throat torn out. It was an odd choice for a bedroom, but it fit somehow. Besides, I liked it. It had that quality that all fine paintings do, as if when you leave the room the painting will move, life suspended and captured on canvas. The green spread emphasized the evergreens, the blue spread caught the washed blue of the sky and the bluish shadows, the red caught the stain of blood on the snow.
Richard lay on his stomach across the crimson cloth. He was totally nude, his jeans thrown on the corner of the bed. His tanned skin looked dark and smooth and incredibly touchable against the red cloth. I felt heat rise up my face as my eyes followed the curve of his body, over the smooth expanse of his buttocks. Lillian had just finished sewing up a curve of claw that had spilled down from his buttocks. I looked away.
I'd seen Richard nude once when I first met him, but never since. We hadn't even been thinking about dating then. I had to look away, mainly because I wanted to look. I wanted to see him like that, and it was too embarrassing for words. I studied the contents of the built-in shelves on his bedroom wall like I'd memorize them. Bits of quartz, a small bird's nest. There was a lump of fossilized coral as big as my hand, a dark rich gold in color with streaks of white quartz. I'd found it on a camping trip and given it to him because he collected bits and pieces, and I didn't. I touched the bit of coral, and didn't want to turn around.
"You said you wanted to talk, then talk," Richard said.
I glanced back. Lillian snipped the black thread she was using to close his skin. "There," she said. "You shouldn't even have a scar."
Richard folded his arms on the bed, resting his chin on his forearms. His hair spread around his face, foaming and touchable. I knew it was as soft as it looked.
Lillian glanced from one to the other of us. "I believe I'll leave you two alone." She began putting things into her bag, which was brown leather and looked more like a fishing tackle box than anything else. She looked at Richard and back to me. "Take a piece of advice from an old lady. Don't screw up."
She left with Richard and me both staring after her.
"You can get dressed now," I said.
He glanced at his crumpled jeans, moving only his dark eyes. His eyes came back to me, and they were as angry as I'd ever seen them. "Why?"
I concentrated on meeting those angry eyes and tried not to stare at his body. It was harder than I would have admitted out loud. "Because its hard to fight with you when you're naked."
He raised up on his elbows, hair falling down into his eyes, until he stared at me through a curtain of brown gold hair. It reminded me of Gabriel, and that was unnerving as hell.
"I know you want me, Anita. I can smell it."
Oh, that made me feel better. I blushed for the second time in five minutes. "So, you're gorgeous. So what? What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
He raised up on all fours, knees, and hands. I looked away so fast it made me dizzy. "Please put on your jeans."
I heard him slide off the bed. "You can't even look at me, can you?"
There was something about the way he said it that made me want to see his face, but I couldn't turn around. I just couldn't. If this was the last fight we ever had, I didn't want the memory of his body imprinted on my mind. It would be too cruel.
I fel
t him standing behind me. "What do you want from me, Richard?"
"Look at me."
I shook my head.
He touched my shoulder, and I jerked away.
"You can't even stand for me to touch you, can you?" For the first time. I heard pain in his voice, raw and hurting.
I turned then. I had to see his face. His eyes glittered with unshed tears, eyes wide so they wouldn't fall. He'd pushed his hair back from his face, but it was already spilling forward. My eyes traveled down his muscular chest, and I wanted to run my hands over his nipples, down his slender waist, and lower. I drew my eyes back up to his face with force of will alone, my face pale now, rather than blushing. I was having trouble breathing. My heart was beating so hard, it was hard to hear.
"I love it when you touch me," I said.
He stared down at me, his eyes filled with pain. I think I preferred the anger. "I used to admire you for saying no to Jean-Claude. I know you want him, and you keep refusing. I thought it was very moral of you." He shook his head, one tear slid from the corner of his eye, trailing in slow motion down his cheek.
I brushed the tear from his face with my fingertip. He caught my hand in his, holding it a little too hard, but not hurting, only surprising. It was also my right hand, and drawing the gun left-handed was going to be a bitch. Not that I really thought I'd need the gun, but he was acting so strangely.
Richard spoke, staring down at me. "But Jean-Claude's a monster and you don't sleep with monsters. You just kill them." Tears slid from both of his eyes and I let them fall. "You don't sleep with me, either, because I'm a monster, too. But you can kill us, can't you, Anita? You just can't fuck us."
I jerked away from him, and he let me. He could have bench pressed the heavy cherry wood bed, so he let me go. I didn't like that much. "That was an ugly thing to say."
"But it's true," he said.
"I want you, Richard, you know that."
"You want Jean-Claude, too, so that's not very flattering. You tell me to kill Marcus, like it would be easy. Do you think it wouldn't bother me to kill him because he's a monster, or because I am?"
"Richard," I said. This was an argument I hadn't seen coming. I didn't know what to say, but I had to say something. He was standing there with tears drying on his face. Even nude and gorgeous, he looked lost.
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