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“Jean-Claude feeds from a man the same way he feeds from a woman. Most vampires differentiate when they feed. Hetrosexual vamps take more liberties with opposite-sex victims. Homosexual vamps take more liberties with same-sex vics. Jean-Claude doesn’t differentiate, do you understand?”

“When have you seen him feed on other women?”

“Aha,” Claudia said, “and that is exactly why he doesn’t feed on women except at the clubs, in public. You’d be jealous of other women if he took them in private, but you aren’t jealous of men. You don’t see them as sexually competitive for Jean-Claude’s attention.”

My head was beginning to hurt. “You’re giving me a headache, Claudia.”

“Only because you don’t want to think this one through.”

“You’re saying that Jean-Claude likes both men and women, but because I’d be jealous of women, he takes mostly men. I get it, I get it.”

“Thank you, Claudia,” Jean-Claude said.

“You’re welcome.”

“Do I apologize to anyone, everyone?” I asked.

“Just take off the robe and get in bed,” Nathaniel said. “Silk is cold without another body to warm it up.”

I smiled at him, shook my head, and started to undo my robe. I stopped, and said, “Everyone that’s not getting in the bed, outside.”

“If it’s an invitation…,” Graham started.

“Can it, Graham,” Claudia said, and went for the door.

He hesitated, but he followed her. Lisandro was already going for the door. Claudia had sent most of the others out when things calmed earlier. Probably sent them to watch over our “guests.” The bodyguards piled out. The door shut, and we were alone.

Micah crawled onto the bed, on the other side of Nathaniel, leaving room for me. “You’re looking a little overdressed,” he said.

I undid the sash and let the robe fall to the floor. I crawled up onto the silk with the help of their hands. They pulled me down between them, so their naked bodies pressed in against me. There was a moment where I had to close my eyes. The sensation of their warm, bare skin sliding against mine was almost overwhelming. It was like wrapping myself in a favorite blanket with my favorite stuffed toy in my arms, and my gun close at hand. Sandwiched between Micah and Nathaniel was the safest, best place I’d ever known.

Nathaniel kissed me. My arms slid around his shoulders automatically. He took that as an invitation to press his upper body against mine. Micah’s hand slid across my hip, until his hand found the inside of my thigh. He stroked his hand back and forth, and without thinking about it, I moved my leg so he could reach other things if he wanted to.

My hands slid down Nathaniel’s back, found the curve where his waist met lower things, traced the two dimples in his very lower back. The kiss had grown into something more, and his body responded to that promise, swelling where he lay trapped against my hip. The feel of him hard and firm against me made me shudder into his mouth.

He drew back enough to watch my eyes fluttering open and shut. “You are my most favoritest toy.”

It was more effort than I would have admitted out loud to focus on his face. Micah’s hand kept stroking my thigh, as if he was coaxing me to open my legs for him, but I’d already done that. His fingers kept trailing on that last inch before he touched intimate parts. I wanted him to touch me. Wanted his fingers to finish that teasing promise.

“I thought you were tired,” Micah whispered, but his mouth was just above my neck, so hot, so close.

“I was.” My voice was thick, but not with sleep.

“What do you want?” he breathed against my neck. That alone made me shiver.

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you.” His fingers trailed just below where I wanted him to touch, back and forth, back and forth, but not the back and forth I wanted.

“Please, Micah. No more teasing.”

His fingers slid over me, and that first touch drew small sounds from me.

“So eager,” he said, and he rose up enough to see my face. His own face was eager, too, but there was also a soft wonder to his face. He raised his hand from between my legs to touch, lightly, along my face. “I love that look on your