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Musette’s body turned to me, but her eyes were pools of dark gold fire, and it wasn’t a ghostly image superimposed over her body this time, it was as if I were seeing double. My eyes saw Musette with the wrong color of eyes. But inside my head it was Belle. Belle in the flesh, a little taller than Musette, long black hair falling to her knees in waves, the dark gold of her dressing gown showing a triangle of white flesh, her face like something sculpted from a pearl, her lips a perfect red pout. She wrapped white hands around my arms, long dark nails, playing along the velvet of the sleeves. She pressed me against her body and leaned in to lay a kiss with that mouth upon mine.

A small voice in my head screamed, “Don’t let her touch you.” But I couldn’t move, couldn’t get away, wasn’t sure I wanted to get away.

That red, red mouth hovered over mine. Her breath pushed against my lips. The world smelled of roses. Then, suddenly, I could taste Asher’s kiss upon my lips. Tasted it as if I had kissed him but a second before. That one taste opened my eyes, helped me draw back from Belle’s mouth. Helped me want to draw back.

Her eyes stared down at me, pools of golden fire like brown water in sunlight. I realized that I had swooned, and she held me as if she’d dipped me in a dance. Her hand was behind my head, raising me up to meet her kiss.

I felt movement and rolled my eyes back to see Richard. Belle saw him, too, “Interfere, and I will raise the ardeur in you again, wolf. You brought no women with you. Did you think that would save you? It won’t. The ardeur only wants to be fed, wolf, it doesn’t care how.”

Richard hesitated. I could taste his fear in my mouth, but underneath that was still the taste of Asher’s kiss.

Jean-Claude was suddenly beside Belle. “It is me you want.” He spread his arms in a wide dramatic gesture that spread the darkness of his coat, spilled his hair around him. “I am here.”

I don’t know what would have happened, or what she would have said, because the next thing that overwhelmed me was the memory of Asher’s love making. It came on me like it had once with Jason, but this was more, worse, better. It bowed my back, convulsed me in Belle’s arms, surprised a scream from me, made my hands scratch at the air, and at Belle’s face. She dropped me then, and I saw, dimly, as if through a white window, her hands grab Jean-Claude.

Richard caught me before I hit the ground, cradled me in his arms. He looked so worried. His hand touched my face. “Anita, are you hurt?”

I managed to shake my head, but even with Richard this close, his face soft and worried about me, I turned my head to look towards Asher. I couldn’t help myself. Asher’s hair was like golden Christmas tree tinsel, lifeless, hanging around a face that was more skull than flesh. His lips were a thin hard line around teeth that were mostly fangs. Only his eyes were still Asher, pools of pale blue fire, as if a winter sky could burn.

The moment I saw his eyes, I tried to crawl out of Richard’s arms, tried to crawl to Asher.

“Anita, Anita, what’s wrong?” He held me, turned me to look at him.

I found my voice, but all I could say was, “Asher.”

He glanced at the fallen vampire, and the disgust was plain on his face. “I know, Anita, I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t sure what he was apologizing about, and I didn’t care. There was something else I should have been more worried about, something I’d forgotten. But I couldn’t think of anything except Asher’s eyes and that I had to go to him. Had to.

Richard stood up, suddenly, with me still in his arms. I heard scrabbling as if of a thousand tiny claws. Rats, thousands of rats, flowed in a furry, squeaking wave across the floor of the cave.

Asher’s power receded, and I knew it had cost him dear to let me go. Knew in that instant that I was the only one who could feed him enough energy to keep him alive.

Richard made a small sound of dismay and turned so that I could see what had paled him. The two vampires that