Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [946]
“We had to cut our date short, too,” Nathaniel said.
Richard looked at him; it was not an entirely friendly look, but his words were civil. “You guys were trying to celebrate some kind of anniversary.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Sorry it got ruined.”
“Sorry your date got cut short,” I said. My, we were being terribly polite.
“They found bugs in my house, Anita. My dates, my phone calls, everything recorded.” He rocked on the heels of his boots.
“I know,” I said. “Same for us.”
“The Circus is the most secure place we have, so I’m here for the duration.”
“Scary,” I said.
“The scary part is that I might be endangering the kids I teach. If it’s not fixed by Monday, maybe I should take a leave of absence.”
He seemed to be asking my opinion and I didn’t know what to say, but Micah did. “We’ve all been blindsided by this. Let’s get some sleep.”
Richard nodded his head, a little too rapidly, a little too often. There were guest rooms in the underground. There was even a couch big enough for him to use in the living room. So why was he here?
“I can stay?” He asked it without looking at us.
“Yes,” Micah said.
“Yes,” I said, my voice soft.
He looked up. “Nathaniel?”
“I’m not dominant to anyone in this room; I don’t get a vote.”
“It’s polite to ask,” Richard said.
“Yes,” I said, “it is. I appreciate it.”
“So do I,” Nathaniel said, “but you don’t have to ask. It was your bed before it was ours.”
That seemed a little impolitic, but strangely Richard smiled. “Nice of someone to remember that.” But he didn’t sound angry as he said it. He picked up his suitcase and started walking toward the bed. He walked past the bed, and we all watched him. He put the suitcase down beside the armoire in the corner that held extra clothes for all of us. He knelt, opened the case, and began to unpack. He took his jacket off first and put it on a hanger in the armoire. Then he took out shirts, socks, and underwear and put them in the drawers. He unpacked as if we weren’t there. We all exchanged looks again. This was too weird, entirely too civilized for Richard. The other shoe had to drop soon, and all hell would break loose, wouldn’t it?
Micah moved the covers, letting me know to get off them enough to get under them. He was right; discretion was the better part of valor. We were all three under the red silk sheets when Richard finally finished putting everything away—including one trip with a toiletry kit to the bathroom. He left the door wide open so he had plenty of light, then walked to the light by the door and turned it off. It was so normal, it scared me. I hadn’t seen him this reasonable in months, maybe years. My shoulders and arms were tight with tension. It felt like the quiet before the storm, but I couldn’t tell if the tension was just me projecting. Richard and I could share each other’s dreams, let alone thoughts, but right now he and I were shielding so tight that nothing got through. We were separate from each other metaphysically, or as separate as Jean-Claude’s marks would let us be. It was safer that way.
Richard walked to the bed, his eyes downcast, not looking at us. He sat down on the bed near me. The three of us scooted back a little to give him more room. He must have felt the bed move, but he ignored it. He pulled off his boots and let them fall to the floor, then socks. He took off his T-shirt and I was suddenly looking at the muscled expanse of his naked back. His hair caressed the edges of all that bare skin.
I fought the urge to touch him. I was afraid of what would happen. Afraid that he would take it wrong.
He had to stand up to undo his belt, unbutton the fly. The sound of the buttons coming undone jerked things low in my body. Richard had been the man who taught me the joys of button-fly jeans.
Micah’s arm curled around my waist, drawing me in closer to