Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [574]
“Anita, are you alright?” Micah asked, and got off the couch to move up beside Nathaniel.
I jerked out of reach. “I’ve got blood on me, other people’s blood.” I was shaking my head over and over. “God knows what I brought home with me.”
“We can’t catch anything,” Nathaniel said, “not even a cold.” He didn’t look lost anymore, he looked worried.
“Blood can’t hurt us,” Micah said.
They were right. I was being silly about contagion, but . . . “Do you really want to touch me while I’ve still got the blood of my victims on me?”
“Yes,” Nathaniel said, and moved to hug me.
I moved back, just enough that he stopped. I was afraid if I let them hug me that I would lose it. I would just sink into their arms and sob.
“Victims?” Micah said. “Anita, this doesn’t sound like you.” But he came with Nathaniel; he tried to hug me.
I moved back until the door hit me, and I was shaking my head. “If I let you hold me, I’m going to cry. Damn it, I hate to cry.”
Micah gave me a look. “That’s not it.”
I closed my eyes and let the equipment bag fall to the floor. He was right, that wasn’t it, not completely. I tried to be honest. I tried to say what I felt. “If I get any sympathy, I’m going to fall apart.”
“Maybe that’s what you need to do,” Micah said, and he moved just a little closer, “maybe just for a little while, let us take care of you.”
I kept shaking my head. “I’m afraid.”
“Of what?” he asked, voice soft.
“Of letting go.”
Micah touched my shoulder, gently. I didn’t pull away. He moved slowly, gently, easing me away from the door, and into his arms. I stayed stiff and unyielding for a moment, then my breath came out in a long wavering line, and I let myself fold around him. My hands grabbed at his shirt, handfuls of cloth, as if I couldn’t get close enough, or hold on hard enough. I wanted him naked, not for sex, though that would probably come, but because I just wanted as much of him pressed against as much of me as possible.
“I’ll go run the bath,” Nathaniel said.
I reached out for him, caught his shirt, and drew him into us. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“What about?” he asked, and he and Micah exchanged a look.
The first tear squeezed out, traitorous bastard. My voice was almost steady when I said, “I didn’t kiss you good-bye, either of you. I just drove off. I’m sorry.”
They both kissed me, soft, chaste, a mere touch of lips. Micah brushed the tear off my cheek. “We understood.” He looked at Nathaniel. “Run the bath.”
“I’d rather have a shower and get to bed.”
They exchanged another look, but with a nod from Micah, Nathaniel went for the bathroom. I looked at Micah’s face. The only man in my life I didn’t have to look up to to meet his eyes. “What’s happened? What have I missed?”
He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was the smile he’d had when I first met him. A smile that held sadness, self-deprecation, mocking, and something else, something that sadness was too light a word for. I’d almost broken him from that smile.
I grabbed his arms, almost shook him. “What happened?”
“Nothing, I swear, everything’s fine, but Jean-Claude warned us not to let you get in the shower. He said, and I quote, ‘not between glass walls.’ ”
I frowned at him. “What are you talking about? Why should Jean-Claude care about how I clean up?”
The phone rang. I jumped like I’d been stabbed. I said what I was thinking. “If it’s another murder scene tonight, I can’t do it.” Even saying it, I knew I’d do it. If they needed me, I’d go. But what I’d said was true, I’d go, but I wasn’t sure I could handle it tonight. Admitting that