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“I didn’t mean . . .”

“Now!” Micah’s voice held that edge of growl to it. Enough that it sparked his beast awake inside him, and I felt it curl inside his body, like brushing up against a cat in the dark. A cat that you’ve shared a bed with, until the feel of that fur, that small body is like your pillows, or your sheets, just a part of a safe night’s sleep. Comfort, companionship, warmth, and the knowledge that there are claws in the dark in case things go wrong. His beast flared mine, and it felt so warm, so comfortable, as those two invisible bodies rubbed against each other. The feel of his neck against my face, his skin wet with my tears, our beasts resting against each other, his arms around me, and I had one of those moments, where I understood that if I let him close enough, his arms could be home.

Nathaniel kissed me, very lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t be sad, Anita, please don’t be sad.” I turned my head enough to see his face. There were tears on his cheeks. I opened one arm so that I could wrap it around his waist and hug them both. I let myself sink in against them, let them hold me, let myself cling to them both. What is love? Sometimes it’s just letting yourself be who and what you are, and letting the person you’re supposed to love be who and what he is, too. Or maybe, what and who they are.

22

WHEN I FINISHED having hysterics and everyone had rinsed enough blood off them to be presentable, or at least not make my neighbors call the police, I got dressed. Micah had pointed out that we’d probably all be going to bed, so why bother getting dressed, but I needed clothes. Black everything from the skin out, including the shoulder holster, Browning Hi-Power, and hidden under my hair the hilt of a really big knife. It sat in a custom-made sheath along my spine that attached to the shoulder holster, though it could be worn without, but not as comfortably. Micah tried to point out that I probably didn’t need that much weaponary to go into my own kitchen. I looked at him, and he stopped. No one else complained.

Have you ever tried to get dressed with three men watching you? I wanted Micah, and it seemed shitty to kick Nathaniel out, and Damian . . . we were all afraid what might happen if the vampire was separated from me by a room and a door. He and I had had sex, and he’d seen me very naked, and even walked behind me into the bedroom, but I still made him turn and face the wall while I dressed. Maybe the wereanimals were finally affecting my view of nudity. It just seemed, strangely, more intimate to dress in front of someone than to be naked. Or maybe my modesty had just had all the shocks it could handle for one day.

Speaking of which, if I hadn’t thought it was cowardly and childish, I’d have hidden in the bedroom until Richard left, but it was cowardly, and it was childish. Damn it. Besides, Nathaniel promised he’d make coffee. I hated eating before ten o’clock, but coffee before ten was a necessity.

Damian had done one thing that made me feel better, he’d asked for a robe. His request made me realize something. None of the vampires I knew did casual nudity. They’d be naked for a good cause, but wouldn’t just walk around nude like the shapeshifters did. Funny, I’d never thought about it before.

Nathaniel had fetched Damian’s very own robe from the basement and had taken a side trip to put on a pair of jeans himself. He got brownie points for dressing without me having to ask.

Damian’s robe looked like something straight out of Victorian England, and maybe it was. It was a dark, rich blue velvet, and heavy, almost more like a coat than a robe. There were worn places at the elbows, and the cuffs and hem were beginning to fray. But the whole robe screamed expensive. Damian wrapped it around himself like it was his favorite teddy bear. Once he belted it in place it covered him from neck to ankle, only his hands peeking out.

“That’s not a robe, is it?” I asked.

He shook his head, as he pulled his hair free of the collar, so it spilled like a surprised red splash against all that blue. “It’s