Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [233]
He kept hugging me. “It’s only crazy if you think it’s crazy, Anita.”
That made me draw back enough to see his face. “What’s that mean?”
He touched my face, gently. “It means that if your life works, and you work in it, then it’s okay, whatever is happening is okay.”
I frowned, then laughed, then frowned again. “I’m not sure a therapist would agree with that.”
“All I know is that since I met you, I’ve felt safer, happier, and better than I have in years.”
“You said safer; funny, I’d think that would be how Nathaniel would order it, safer, then happy.”
“I may be your Nimir-Raj and a dominant, but, Anita, I spent years at the mercy of Chimera. He was crazy and a sociopath. I’ve seen the real thing, Anita, and you are neither of those things.” He smiled when he said it and gave a little duck of his head, almost like an old gesture that he’d nearly outgrown. It showed his profile for a moment, and because I was in the mood to pick, I asked something I’d been debating on for weeks.
I traced the bridge of his nose. “When I first met you, your nose looked like it had been badly broken. I assumed that meant it had happened when you were human, but your nose is getting straighter, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” and his voice was soft when he said it. There was no smile now, not even the confusing one. His face had closed down. I’d begun to realize that this was how he looked when he was sad. I’d met Chimera, hell, I’d killed him. He’d been one of the most insane beings I’d ever met. This from a list that included self-deluded would-be gods and millenia-old master vampires, not to mention wereanimals that were both sexual sadists and sexual predators, in the truest sense of the word. So, that I would put Chimera near the top of my crazy-bad-guy list said just how awful he had been. I could not imagine being at his mercy for any length of time. I hadn’t enjoyed a few hours. Micah and his pard had been with Chimera for years. I’d avoided this topic, because it was so obviously painful for all of them, but especially for Micah. But tonight, for so many reasons, I needed to know. I needed, almost, to cause him some pain. Ugly, but true.
Sometimes you fight what you are, and sometimes you give in to it. And some nights you just don’t want to fight yourself anymore, so you pick someone else to fight.
6
WE ENDED UP standing at the far side of the parking lot, where trees grew in a tall, thin line. Fast-growing maples, with their yellow leaves, dancing in the October wind. My hair was so tight in its French braid that the wind could do little with it, but Micah’s hair streamed around his face, like a thick, dark cloud. He’d taken off his glasses, and the streetlights made his eyes very yellow, even with the green shirt on, as if they reflected the light differently than they should have, or would have, if they’d been human eyes.
The wind was cool and held that crisp autumn scent. What I wanted to do was take his hand and walk out into the night until we found some woods. I wanted to go walking out into the darkness and let the wind take us where it wanted us to go. My bad mood seemed to have faded on the cool night wind, or maybe it was the sight of him, his face nearly lost in a cloud of his own hair. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to fight anymore.
“You’re right, my nose is healing.” His voice held that hint of bitter laughter to it. That tone that matched that confusing smile.
I touched his arm. “If this is hard, you don’t have to.”
He shook his head and put a hand up at his hair, impatient, angry, as if he was mad at the hair for getting in his face. I thought he was probably angry at me, but I didn’t ask. I didn’t really want to know if the answer was yes.
“No, you asked, I’ll answer.”
I took back my hand and let him talk, let him open the bag that I’d wanted opened, so badly, only minutes ago.