The Harlequin ab-15

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  I wasn't sure I wanted him to finish, but I let him.

  "Women are just for fucking, or marrying so you can have kids if you want them. Women don't count, not in my world, not in Auggie's world. But you counted, to him, and to me. But especially to me. No matter what woman I was with, or how good the sex was, the moment it was over, it felt bad. It wasn't enough. Damn you, damn you, I started thinking about relationships. Having a girl to talk to. Stupid shit that I gave up before I hit fifteen, and suddenly it was all back. I was this kid again, thinking there was more to life than being muscle for Auggie. There isn't more to life, Anita. There isn't anymore." His voice had sunk to a low growl.

  I didn't know what to say. Sorry seemed lame, and It's not my fault seemed worse. I didn't mean to fuck up your life seemed the most accurate. I finally settled for, "I didn't make you rethink your life, Haven."

  "Yeah, you did. Auggie says you did. He says you didn't mean to do it, but you mind-fucked me just like Belle Morte does, or can. I'm your lion, Anita. I'm yours. Yours in a way I've never been anyone's. You make me want to be a better person. How fucking lame is that?"

  Truth's quiet voice came. "A lady always makes a man want to be better than he is. Belle Morte did not make anyone want to be better. She made you obsess about her, follow her like a dog, but you did not think, Will she think less of me if I do this awful thing? She did things so much worse than anything we were willing to do; even Wicked found her immoral."

  "Auggie said it was the same mind-fucking shit that Belle Morte did."

  "Your attraction to Anita may have been vampire powers, but your reaction to her beyond that is not," Wicked said, and there was a note of almost sadness to his voice.

  "What does that mean?" Haven asked, his voice irritated.

  "It means, my good fellow," Wicked said, "you're in love with the woman."

  "No," Haven said.

  "Only love of a good woman will make a man question every choice, every action. Only love makes a warrior hesitate for fear that his lady will find him cruel. Only love makes a man both the best he will ever be, and the weakest. Sometimes all in the same moment."

  I didn't know what to say. It seemed like I should say something. Maybe I wasn't in love with him. Or maybe it was just lust. Or… but one thing had to be clear between us.

  "I appreciate all the honesty, Haven, really I do, but I need to be certain you understand a few things."

  He gave me a look that was both angry and uneasy. "What things?"

  "You've done good. You checked with all the other group leaders. That was great. But I haven't said I'd make you one of my boyfriends."

  He squeezed my hand, traced his fingers across my wrist. I had to fight not to shiver under even that small touch. I knew this reaction. It was too close to how Micah had affected me, too damn close. But when Micah came into my life the ardeur was brand new, and so was having my own beasts. I wasn't new at controlling all of it now. Thank God.

  "Your pulse speeds up just from that little touch. How can you say you don't want me?"

  "I didn't say I didn't want you. But my life works, mostly. I like living with Micah and Nathaniel. I like bunking over with Jean-Claude and Asher. I don't need another man in my life who won't share. Frankly, I'm trying to thin down the number of men in my life. I really don't want another one."

  "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying, don't come down here thinking it's a done deal between us. Don't take it for granted that you'll be able to fit into my life."

  He let go of my hand, then, and the look was so cold. "I talk to you like I've never talked to another woman, and this is what I get?"

  "Yeah, because my life works. The coalition works. The power structure in this territory works. I won't jeopardize it, not for lust, or even for love."

  "Ask her how she feels about you," Truth said.

  Haven shook his head.

  "Tell him how you feel, Anita."

  I didn't want to, but Truth was right. One, Haven had been honest with me. Two, a man's ego is a fragile thing sometimes. The toughest men sometimes are the easiest hurt, and hardest to heal. I didn't know what Haven and I would be doing with each other, but whatever we were going to do, it needed to be honest.

  "I thought about you while you were in Chicago, but not to the extent you thought about me. I sent you away because I wanted to touch you. I wanted to be naked with you, and do all the things you do when the clothes come off."

  "You're saying you wanted, like it's past."

  "I still feel the attraction, trust me. But the initial attraction is the most overwhelming. It was like that with Micah, too. If I can get a little distance between me and the man, then, apparently, I get better control."

  "I wonder how your control would be if I weren't shielding my lion from you? You're hurt. You need to heal, but when you're well, I want to see how your control holds up to my lion."

  "Don't threaten me, Haven. I don't react well to that."

  "It's not a threat, Anita. I am being so good right now. You have no idea how good."

  "I appreciate that," I said.

  "But I'm not good. I'm bad. I think like a bad guy. You keep pushing me away, and all my good resolutions will go out the window."

  "What does that mean?" I asked.

  "It means that once I kill Joseph and take over his pride, I'll be a permanent member of your coalition. I'll be the local Rex. Once I take over Joseph's pride, I can't go back to Chicago."

  The human part of me, the commonsense part of me said, Send his ass back home. The coldly practical part said, Who else is going to run the lions here? There were no other candidates. The lioness in me wanted to know if he was as good as his brag. Not just about sex, but power. The lioness more than any other of my beasts wanted a mate that could protect her, keep up with her. None of my other beasts were as competitive as the lion. I got a distant swirl of tiger, like a dream of a dream. Tiger wanted to be left alone. Fine with me.

  "I'm scared of you, Haven. Scared that you being my lion will fuck up my life. I know you're bad, and you've been bad your entire adult life. That's a lot of bad habits to break."

  "I'm not sure I know how to be good."

  "I know."

  "Do I stay? Decide now, Anita, because once the pride is mine, the choice is gone."

  I thought about it. I'd have been fine with him coming in as the new Rex, but coming in as a new boyfriend, well, that just had disaster written all over it. I opened my mouth to say go, but my lioness swiped a claw up inside me, like she was playing with my liver. It made me writhe on the bed and not in a good way.

  I was suddenly getting asked by a lot of people, "Anita, are you all right?"

  I nodded. I had more control over my beasts, I really did. But apparently, I didn't have complete control. Would the lioness let me send Haven back to Chicago, or would she tear me apart?

  I don't know what I would have said to Haven, because I didn't get a chance. The door opened, and it was Dolph again, but with more police at his back.

  "Everybody in here carrying a weapon, but not carrying a badge, out."

  Since that was everybody but Graham, they went. Dolph was pissed that they'd managed to get past everyone in the first place. Apparently, heads were going to fly, at least figuratively.

  Edward came back into the room while Dolph was giving each of the armed "guards" a police escort off hospital grounds. Dolph decided that Ted Forrester and his German friend in the hallway were enough muscle to keep me safe, so Graham didn't need to be here either.

  "Dolph, Graham isn't even armed."

  "You've got Forrester and Otto Jeffries to guard your back, or is there something going on in our city so dangerous that you need all this firepower?" He gave me those searching cop eyes that always seemed to see everything.

  I shook my head. I told Truth, Wicked, Haven, and Graham to go with the nice police officers. They went. Because Dolph was right with Edward and Olaf, I was safe enough, at least from our en
emies. I'd seen Olaf use a gun. I knew he was a good man in a fight, but somehow I just never felt entirely safe from Olaf with Olaf nearby. Funny, that.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  THE DOCTOR TOLD me I could go. That if I exercised and didn't let the scar tissue harden up on me, I'd be fine. He also assumed I was a shapeshifter, a new kind of shapeshifter that could do different animals. He actually used the term panwere. It was the first time I'd heard anyone but a shapeshifter say it. The doctor had never actually seen one, until me. I told him he still hadn't seen one, but nothing I said persuaded him different, so I gave up. If people won't believe the truth, and you don't want to lie, then you're out of options. Chimera had been the real deal, a true panwere, and one of the scariest beings I'd ever met. I wondered what the doctor would have made of him?

  I walked down the hall to Peter's room with Edward leading the way. Olaf brought up the rear. I didn't like him behind me, but he wasn't doing anything wrong. For him, he was positively being a good boy. The fact that I could feel the weight of his gaze on my back almost like a hand pressing between my shoulder blades wasn't something I could really bitch about. I mean, what was I supposed to say, Stop looking at me? It was a little too childish for me to say it out loud, no matter how true it felt.

  It didn't help that Olaf and I were dressed alike, sort of. Edward was in his white button-down shirt and jeans, and cowboy boots. Ted Forrester dressed to be comfortable; Olaf dressed either to intimidate or because he liked the Goth assassin look. I hadn't picked my clothes, Nathaniel had. Black jeans tight enough that the inner pants holster dug in a little, but they tucked nicely into the lace-up boots. The black T-shirt was scoop-necked and the push-up bra that was under it made sure I had plenty of scoop to show. My cross sat on my breasts, rather than hanging in front of them. How did I know Nathaniel had packed the bag and not Micah? First, the panties and bra matched, and the panties were perfect for the lower waistline of the jeans; second, the shirt and bra showed a lot of cleavage; third, the boots. Maybe my Nikes were covered in blood, they probably were, and the boots were comfy and low heeled, but Nathaniel was twenty and male and often looked at clothes from the perspective of his job. Micah had a tendency to not match everything perfectly; he would have just put on an ambi-sexual T-shirt from the T-shirt drawer we shared. The outfit wouldn't have looked so terribly like an outfit if Micah had done it. I'd have to talk to Nathaniel about picking out things with this much cleavage when I was working with the cops. I had my backup shoulder holster instead of the custom-made leather one, which probably meant hospital efficiency had destroyed it. That would be the second or third one that had gotten cut to pieces in an emergency room.

  I felt heat, or air movement, or… something. I turned and must have done it fast enough to catch Olaf in midmotion, pulling his hand back. He had almost touched me.

  I glared at him, and he stared at me. Those dark, deep-set eyes stared at my face, and then his gaze slid down the front of my body in that way that men can do. That look that slides over you so that you know they're thinking about you naked, or worse. In Olaf's case it was probably worse.

  "Stop looking at me like that," I said.

  Edward was watching us both.

  "Every man who sees you tonight will be looking at you like that." He made a gesture in the vague direction of my chest. "How can they not?"

  I felt the heat run up my face, and spoke through gritted teeth. "Nathaniel picked the clothes to bring to the hospital, not me."

  "Did he buy the shirt and the bra?" Olaf asked.

  "No," I said. "I did."

  He shrugged. "Then do not blame the boy."

  "Yeah, but they're date clothes, and I don't think there's going to be time for a date tonight."

  "Will we be hunting the vampire that escaped us?" he asked.

  I nodded. "Yeah, if we can figure out where she and her human servant have gotten to, yeah."

  He smiled.

  "What?" I said, because the smile didn't match what we were talking about.

  "If things work out as I hope, I may owe your boy a thank-you."

  I shook my head. "I don't understand."

  Edward touched my arm, and I jumped. "You don't want to understand." He led me down the hallway, his hand on my arm. Olaf stayed where he was, staring at us with that strange half-smile on his face.

  "What?" I asked Edward.

  He leaned in close, speaking low and quick, "While you were unconscious, Olaf came into the room. You were covered in blood and they'd cut off most of what you were wearing. He touched you, Anita. The doctors and guards chased him back, and I got him out of the room, but…"

  I stumbled, because I was trying to stop, and he kept us moving. "Touched me where?" I asked.

  "The stomach."

  "I don't understand," and then I did. "The wounds, he touched the wounds."

  "Yes," Edward said, and stopped us outside a door.

  I swallowed hard; both my pulse and a certain nausea were trying to climb up my throat. I looked down the hallway where Olaf was still standing. I knew my face showed fear; I couldn't help it. He drew his lower lip under and bit it. I think it was an unconscious gesture. A gesture you make when you are moved to the point where you don't think about how you look, or who's looking. Then he moved down the hallway toward us like some black movie monster. The kind that looks human, and is human, but in their mind there's nothing human left to talk to.

  Edward opened the door and drew me inside. Apparently we weren't waiting on Olaf. Fine with me.

  I stumbled over the doorsill. His hand tightened, steadying me. The door closed on the sight of Olaf gliding up the hallway. He moved like all his muscles knew what they were doing, almost like one of the shapeshifters. He so needed killing.

  I must have looked pale, because Micah came across the room and took me in his arms. He whispered against my cheek, "What's wrong?" He hugged me tighter. "You're shivering."

  I wrapped my arms around him and pressed as much of me against as much of him as I could. It was one of those hugs when it feels almost like you're trying to meld yourself into the other person. Sometimes it's sexual, but sometimes it's because the world has gone too wrong and you need something to cling to. I clung to Micah like he was the last solid thing in the world. I buried my face against the curve of his neck and drew in the scent of his skin. He didn't ask again what was wrong; he just held me close.

  Other arms hugged me from behind; another body pressed tight against me. I didn't need to open my eyes and see Nathaniel to know it was him. I didn't even need the faint hint of vanilla. I knew the feel of his body against mine. I knew the feel of them holding me together.

  Another body came in from the side of us. I did turn to see, and found it was Cherry. She put an arm around both men. I realized with a start that she wasn't taller than Nathaniel now. "What's wrong?" she asked, dark eyes worried.

  What did I say? That I was afraid of Olaf? That the thought that he'd caressed my wounds creeped me? That I wondered if he'd touched that bulge of intestine the way a man touches a breast? That I wanted to know, and didn't want to know?

  The door opened behind us. Edward nodded at me and went to the opening door. He spoke softly, then walked out the door to talk to Olaf in private, or maybe to simply keep him away from me for a while. Whichever, I was grateful. Of course, that left me with Edward's other backup.

  I looked past Micah's shoulder and Cherry's arm to the bed in the room. Pain had brought more of the shadow of that boy I'd first met into Peter's face. He looked pale and terribly young lying there hooked up to tubes and monitors. When I woke up, I hadn't been hooked up to anything that monitored my vitals. How much worse off was he than me?

  I whispered, "I don't think I can explain what's wrong."

  Cherry gave me narrow eyes.

  "I'll try to explain later, promise."

  She frowned at me, but stepped back as if she knew what I was going to do. Maybe she did. I'd probably made some small moveme
nt toward the bed, or turned my body as if prepping to move. Most people wouldn't notice, but a lot of the shapeshifters would.

  I hugged Micah again, a little less intensely, and he kissed me. It was a gentle, lingering kiss. If Peter hadn't been watching I might have made it more, but he was, and Edward was taking care of big and scary in the hallway. That left me with not so big, but scary in a very different way. I leaned back to look over my shoulder at Nathaniel. He kissed my cheek, putting his hand against the other side of my face so he could press our faces together. I turned so he could get more of a kiss, but he gave me one of the most delicate, gentlemanly kisses he'd ever given me. I drew back, giving him puzzled eyes. His lavender gaze flicked across the room toward the bed. I got it, and didn't. Something about Peter watching made Nathaniel behave himself, but I didn't know why, or what. I mean it was a kiss, not making out. I pushed the thought away into the crowd of other confusing thoughts. There were so many of them, I felt like I needed a cage to hold them in, so that all the things I didn't understand wouldn't overwhelm me.

  I got a better look at Nathaniel's clothes and realized he'd dressed himself almost exactly as he'd dressed me, except his T-shirt was a boy's, and he wasn't wearing any weapons. We looked like we should be going clubbing. Hard to complain about how someone dresses you when they're wearing the same outfit. The clothes were minor problems compared to what was waiting.

  I took a deep breath and pushed out of the circle of comforting hands. I moved out of that circle of warmth to face the current confusing thought. This one was staring at me with brown eyes that looked like islands in the pale skin of his face. Peter wasn't naturally pale, not like I was, or Edward was, but he was pale now. Blood loss and pain will do that to you.

  I walked toward the bed. In that moment I would rather have faced Peter than Olaf. Was I being a coward, or was Edward the one being the coward? I was betting that he'd rather face a thousand Olafs than one almost-stepson right now. The look on Peter's face changed as I walked toward the bed. He was still hurt, but his gaze seemed to be drawn to something other than my face. By the time I got to the bedside he wasn't as pale; he'd found enough blood somewhere to blush.