Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [483]
I thought about going back out and telling them that, but didn’t. No matter what else, they were both still men, and men feel better when they have something to do. They could straighten the bed and sheets and get everything all neat and tidy. It would keep them from having any more of those awkward silences. Or, that was the hope.
57
WHEN I STEPPED out of the shower, my black robe was hanging on the back of the door. How had I not seen that, or heard it? If Jean-Claude could do that while I was in the shower, and me have no hint, then I was shielding too tight. In shielding this hard, I was losing some of my awareness of my surroundings. Not good.
I dried off, wrapped a towel around my hair, and put the robe on. I’d have given a great deal for clean underwear, but hell, if I tied the sash tight and the little string tighter, the robe didn’t gap. I checked that nothing showed in the mirror but a little upper chest, very proper. I’d washed away all the makeup. I looked pale and clean, and, with my hair up in a pale blue towel, I looked sort of too pale, almost sickly. I started to take the towel down, because I knew I looked good in the robe with my hair down, wet, or not. But I resisted the urge. First, my hair was too wet, and silk doesn’t like being wet. Second, I had only one boyfriend in the other room, not two. I wasn’t trying to look my best, just help Richard not have a fit about letting Jean-Claude touch him.
I looked at my face, my eyes so dark, and wondered if I could admit, even to myself, that I still cared that Richard thought I was attractive. Yeah, to myself, I could say it, but I left the towel on.
They were arguing about candles when I came out. Jean-Claude had had some brought in for the bedside tables, and Richard was saying, “We don’t need candles, Jean-Claude. You’re just feeding. That’s it.”
“I vote with Richard. We don’t need candles.”
“The two of you are not romantics.”
“This isn’t about romance, it’s about food,” I said.
Richard motioned to me. “See, Anita agrees with me.”
“Of course, she does, mon ami.” Jean-Claude didn’t sound too put out, he still had that cat-who-ate-the-cream sound to his voice.
The mattress and box springs sat on the floor, covered in new, bloodred sheets. Even the pillowcases had been changed, so that the bed shimmered scarlet in the subdued light. The bed frame being gone probably explained why Richard had removed his jean jacket and was just in an olive green T-shirt.
“I had not realized how dark Jason’s room is,” Jean-Claude was saying. “I have no extra places to put lamps, but we could have more light with candles. I would prefer a romantic reason, but in truth, it is simple practicality. I would like more light.”
“You’re a vampire,” Richard said, “you see in the dark better than I do.”
“True, but if you were allowed to touch someone who rarely allows you to touch them in any intimate fashion, would you not wish light to see what you are doing?” He gave Richard a look, then his eyes slid past him to me. It was a quick look, but Richard followed it, and suddenly he didn’t seem to know what to do with his face, so he turned it back toward the other man.
“Have I missed something here?” I asked, “or am I about to miss something?”
“You miss very little, ma petite.”
“Candles are fine,” Richard said, still not looking at me.
I was shaking my head, but I felt a small touch against my skin. I knew that touch. I dropped the tiniest edge of my shields. Jean-Claude’s voice blew through me like a caressing wind. “Does it mean nothing to you, ma petite, that the mere sight of you in your robe has changed Richard’s mind?”
I shook my head and tried to answer back as silently as he did. I still wasn’t great at it. What I tried to think back was, “Me in this robe with this towel, is not worth him changing his mind.”
“You still do not value yourself, as we value you, ma petite.”
There was that “we” again.