Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [870]
I grabbed his arms, and smoothed my hands from elbow to wrist, to hold his hands, and the skin smoothed behind my touch like a fast-forward camera trick. It wasn’t possible, but I was still doing it.
The wind faltered, and I fell forward onto him. He caught me or I might have slipped to the floor of the car. Working with the dead always felt good, but it had its price, too. It was especially trying if there was no blood magic involved. It hadn’t occurred to me it would be that similar to raising the dead in price.
Jason and Nathaniel were beside us. “What’s wrong?” Jason asked.
Nathaniel answered, “She’s exhausted.”
I blinked up at him. “Are you exhausted, too?”
He shook his head. “When you shut the marks down, you shut them down. I can tell you’re exhausted, but you aren’t draining me. I don’t think you’re touching Damian either.”
“I didn’t want to risk the two of you again tonight.”
“You shut everybody out,” Jason said. “Jean-Claude is sensing more through me, right now, then you. A pomme de sang is not nearly the connection that you are to him.”
“Too much happening,” I said.
Requiem hugged me. “What can I do to make this right, m’lady? How do I repay such a miracle?”
“If we ever do this again, I need to have you take blood during it, just like a sacrifice at a zombie raising. Blood magic helps the energy.”
“You need to feed,” Jason said, and he had an abstracted look as if he were listening to something I couldn’t hear. It was probably Jean-Claude whispering in his ear.
“Okay,” I said, settling heavier onto Requiem’s chest.
Jason and Nathaniel looked at each other, then back at Requiem. “Call your power, Requiem,” Jason said, “call her ardeur. She’s too weak to bind you with it, like she tried to do earlier. Feed her first, and you will be safe.”
“It’s like a ventriloquism act,” I said, “your mouth moves but Jean-Claude’s words come out.”
Jason gave me the grin that was all his, and shrugged. “His words, or not, it’s still true.”
I rolled my head to look up at Requiem’s face. “Is that why you stopped before? You were afraid I’d own you through the ardeur?”
“Yes,” he said, “I feared I would end as London has ended, and I do not truly wish that.”
“I don’t think I’m up to binding anyone right now.”
A look passed over his face that wasn’t gentle, or hesitant. It was a very male look for a moment. “Then I can do as I wish with you.”
I thought about arguing with the way he’d phrased it, but I just didn’t have the energy for it. Too tired, and too drained. “Yes,” I said, “you can.”
He sat up, cradling me against the front of his body. He sat up, and half-carried me, until I was lying on the other end of the seat, and he was kneeling over me. His power danced over my body, and even that was energy, that was food. I watched his eyes drown in the blue depths of his own magic, until he stared down at me like one blind.
“Is this truly what m’lady wishes?”
I stared down the length of his body. So hard, so ready, almost hard enough that it must have hurt him a little. Too hard for too long is not always a good feeling. With his body practically screaming with need, he asked, asked permission one more time.
“Requiem,” I said, “I promise I will always think of you as a gentleman, but I’ve already said yes.”
“It is good to be certain,” he whispered.
“Whoever taught you this caution, it wasn’t me.” I stroked my hand not across his chest, but just above it, playing in the energy of his aura. So much energy to play with. It made him close his eyes for a moment. “I promise, Requiem, I’ll still respect you in the morning.”
That made him smile, and he said, “And you will always be m’lady.”
That made me laugh. Then he poured his power over my body, and the laughter changed to other sounds.
50
HE HELD ON to the door to raise himself above