Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [778]
“Have you ever known a vampire bite to become infected?” he asked.
I frowned, and thought about it. It took me nearly a minute to say, “No.”
“Why is that, ma petite?”
“Because vampires have a natural antiseptic in their saliva. Vampires actually have fewer types of bacteria in their saliva than the average human.”
“You are quoting now,” he said.
I nodded, and stopped because the bite was a little tight. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it let me know it was there. “Yeah, they had an article in The Animator. Some doctor actually wondered why vampire bites don’t get infected like an ordinary human bite, or an animal bite. They’ve known for a while that you guys have an anticoagulant in your saliva, but this was the first study on other properties of vampire saliva.”
“So, I ask again, why are you hiding our mark of favor?”
I thought about it, then shrugged. “Habit.” I took the gauze off the bite mark. It had two small round red circles on it, but it had almost stopped bleeding. They usually did unless you were cut up. A violent vamp bite was more like a dog bite; it bled. The two neat holes stopped sooner than you’d think, and rarely re-bled without the wound being reopened. I’d known vampire junkies who tried to hide their habit by having a vampire bite the same wound several times. It didn’t really work if you knew enough about vamps to know what a bite should look like, but it fooled the tourists, or the boss at work on Monday. Repeated trauma to an area is still repeated trauma, and that was one of the few times outside of violent attacks when a vamp bite started to bruise and tear.
I handed the used gauze to Remus, who took it gingerly from me as if he didn’t want to touch my fingers. “I don’t need the bandages. Thanks anyway, Remus.”
Jean-Claude came to me, smiling. He touched the bite delicately, coming away with minute drops of blood on his fingertips. He lifted them to his mouth, and I knew what he was going to do before he licked so delicately. I watched him lick my blood off his fingertips, and wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t not enjoy it. I felt neutral about what he’d done, but why had he done it? He usually went out of his way not to spook me, not to be too vampiric.
He leaned over me, put his hands delicately around my face, and tried to raise me up for a kiss. Normally, I would have met him halfway, but I didn’t do it this time. I stayed sitting, forcing him to bend down for me. I kept my hand on the robe, holding it in place, and watched him bend lower. He stopped just before he would have kissed me, and drew back enough so I could see his face clearly. “You have kissed me many times with the taste of your sweet blood upon my lips, but now, I see reluctance on your face, feel it in your body. Why?” He searched my face, though I knew he could drop his shields and know exactly what I was thinking. Maybe he was afraid of what he’d find.
Why, he’d asked? Because he’d licked my blood off his fingers? I’d kissed him when he’d come directly off my vein. I’d kissed him when one mouth or the other had gotten nicked on his fangs. I’d learned to think of a little sweet copper taste as almost an aphrodisiac, because I’d begun to associate it with him, and others. Even Richard liked a little taste of blood; he hated that he liked it, but he did.
Jean-Claude drew back, letting my face slide between his hands as he stood. A look of such sadness came over his face. I grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what, ma petite? Don’t stop hiding what I am? I cannot be human, ma petite, not even for you. I thought the worst of playing human for each other, you and I, was the crippling of our power, but that is not what hurts my heart.”
I let go of his arm. I didn’t want to ask the next question, but I knew I had to, or be branded a coward. I swallowed hard enough that it hurt, and asked, “What hurts your heart?” It was a whisper, but I asked