Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [491]
“Nothing worth doing is easy,” Richard said, “and maybe I’ll find that the white picket fence isn’t for me, after all. All I know is that right now, right this moment, I know what I want, and what I want is you.”
A lot of women would have run to him, thrown their arms around him, and said something like, “Oh, Richard.” But that just wasn’t me. What I was thinking was that if Clair had been his little fuck-buddy, he wouldn’t be here now. He wouldn’t want me, now. I dropped the towel on the floor and was shaking my head. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
Richard was still holding his hand out to me. “Neither am I.”
“Then why are we doing it again?”
“Because we want to.”
“Doesn’t seem like a good enough reason.” But I moved, slowly, toward the bed.
“Because when I’m near you, all I can think about is the smell of your skin, and the way your hair spreads like black foam on my pillows. Because when I’m near you, all I can remember is how your body feels against mine. I have to be a bastard to you, so that I don’t fall down at your feet and beg you to take me back. Tell you that it wasn’t you I hated. It was me, and I’m sorry that I took that out on you. Sorrier than I can say. That you had the courage to make a life that worked for you, regardless of how far that life was from where you wanted it to be. Help me have the courage to do the same, Anita. Help me be who I am.” He moved his hands just a little closer to mine. His fingers brushed mine. I think I would have jerked away like you do when your skin brushes something so hot it will burn. But he grabbed my hands, wrapped them in the warmth of his hands. His hands that were so much bigger than mine, so that he could hide my hands in his, as if I were a child. I’d never really liked that about Richard. He was so much bigger than me, that sometimes I felt overwhelmed. Like now.
I’d learned a long time ago that if something sounds too good to be true, it is. If someone promises you everything your heart desires, they lie.
He drew me into the circle of his arms, so that the front of my body was pressed against his. He buried his face against my chest, still covered by silk, but the weight of his face against me made me close my eyes, and when I opened them, I was looking at Jean-Claude. He looked not at Richard’s bare back, but at me, at my face. I watched him be afraid. Be afraid that I’d say, no.
Richard rubbed his face against the silk, and his breath came through the cloth like something that should have burned, but it didn’t. It made me shiver as if I were cold, but held in the circle of his arms with his breath hot on my skin, I felt as if I would never be cold again. I couldn’t stop my hands from stroking his hair. Still woefully short, but thick and heavy, and just . . . Richard’s.
Jean-Claude was on his knees. He didn’t raise his hands, but he put the word please into his face, those eyes. His voice whispered through my head, “Ma petite, we endanger everyone that depends on us by this hesitation. Everything we have worked so hard to build hangs upon the next challenge to my power, or to Richard’s. If we do not embrace our power as a triumverate, there will come a night when someone sweeps over us and we will not prevail. The worst that could happen is not that Richard may come to your bed, then come no more, or that you may grow discontent with Micah and Nathaniel. The worst is that we are dead, and our people will be at the mercy of others that do not love them.” He held his hand out to me. “Come to us, ma petite, come to us, and let us build a fortress behind which our people, all of our people, may be safe.” That last he said out loud.
Richard raised his face enough to gaze up the line of my body. “Please, Anita, don’t punish everyone because I’ve been a bastard.”
Jean-Claude was close enough that I could have taken his hand, while Richard still held me in his arms. “Please, ma petite, if there is word or deed that would move you, I would say it, or do it. Tell