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“I’m sorry, Anita.”

“Don’t be sorry, Richard. Fix it. Fix yourself, fix us, or don’t fix us. But whatever you’re going to do, we need to do it now. I won’t risk lives because we’re having another fight.”

He nodded his head as if that were fair. Maybe it was. He started moving toward me through the water.

“What are you doing?” I asked, and sounded suspicious.

“I want you to feed off me, Anita.”

“I’m pissed and hurt, and that doesn’t lead to sex for me.”

“If I leave you’ll still be pissed and hurt. You’ll still have trouble concentrating on the sex, won’t you?”

I couldn’t argue his logic. I almost said, But the others are smaller than you, and this is one situation where bigger isn’t better. But I didn’t say it out loud. I didn’t want to hurt him that badly. I also knew that if Richard and I couldn’t come to some kind of understanding, one day we’d be finished as a couple. He’d always be Jean-Claude’s wolf to call. He’d always be bound to us in a triumvirate of power, but we’d be broken up. It would be like being trapped in a relationship with someone you’d divorced but could never completely get rid of. A little slice of hell, that.

He was kneeling in front of me, the water just above his waist. The edges of his hair were wet, but the top was still dry, and still held some of the slick stuff that had gotten on us when I ripped Travis into his animal form. Truthfully, a little mess wasn’t enough to take away from how handsome he was, but the constant fighting was. The picking at it all, and his deep unhappiness with being a werewolf, that was unattractive. I gazed up at him, all that way to the nearly heart-stopping face, so handsome. Handsome enough that I’d have been embarrassed around him in high school. But handsome and well-endowed wasn’t enough to keep letting him hurt me like this. I stared up at him, and for the first time my heart did not leap up, and neither did my libido. I was tired of the fighting. I was tired of his inability to accept our reality. He didn’t believe I was a succubus. He thought it was something that would go away if we got me away from Jean-Claude. Didn’t he understand that there was no going away from Jean-Claude, not for either of us? His comments said no, he didn’t understand that, and that made me sad.

He stood up. He stood up with water dripping down his body. I was suddenly staring at a certain part of his anatomy with water drops decorating it. We all have our weaknesses, and one of mine was water. Richard had dated me long enough to know that. He was betting that seeing him wet was enough to distract me from being mad at him. I had a moment to decide to hold on to that angry sadness, or do what I wanted to do. Do what the suddenly rapid pulse in my neck wanted to do. I felt Nathaniel sway against a wall. I went to my knees, steadied my hands against the warm, wet sides of Richard’s thighs, and lowered my mouth to his body.

16

I LICKED THE water off him with the tip of my tongue. I drank water from the looseness of his body, licking water from the testicles where they hung so heavy and large. I licked and drank the water until his body lengthened and hardened. I couldn’t reach the tip of him now, not without wrapping my hand around the base of him and lowering all that hardness toward my mouth. He made small noises for me, and when I gazed up his body, the eyes that looked back had changed to wolf amber. Sex was supposed to be about losing control, but all lycanthropes could never completely lose control—because to lose control for them meant to change shape. At least once a year some new lycanthrope lost control and cut up a lover during sex. Sometimes the lover survived, sometimes they didn’t, sometimes they got to be furry, too.

I drove my mouth over him until my lips met my own hand. I used the hand to squeeze and pulse around him, but it also kept me from having to try to take all of him in my mouth. I could deep-throat, but it wasn’t always the most comfortable position, not with someone