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“Good for you,” Richard said. “I don’t.”

“You’re having sex with the human women you’re dating,” I said.

“Some of them, yes I am.”

“You’re doing that by choice; I’m doing this because I have to.”

“You’ll still enjoy it,” he said.

“Would it make you happier if the sex were bad?”

“Yes.” He stood up, and let me finally see that he was wearing nice jeans and a red T-shirt. He’d probably refused fetish wear, and I didn’t think he had any dress clothes here. “Yes, it would make me feel better if I didn’t know you’d enjoy it.”

“I don’t know what to say to that, Richard, I really don’t.”

“I’m not having sex with anyone but Anita, and I don’t have a problem with this,” Micah said.

“No, of course you don’t, because you’re perfect,” Richard said.

Micah looked at me, as if asking how much fight to have.

“Don’t fight,” I said. “Let’s eat, then we’ll talk about what to say to Rafael.”

“And just because she says ‘don’t fight,’ you won’t fight, will you?” Richard asked.

“Usually, no,” Micah said.

“Sometimes, Micah, I hate you,” Richard said.

“Right back at you,” Micah said with a smile.

Richard’s power slapped along my skin like tiny bites of heat. But Micah was closer, and when his power flared, too, it was like standing too close to an open oven. “Stop it, both of you.”

“Mon chat, mon ami, we do not have time for this.”

“I am not your friend,” Richard said. “I am your wolf to call, but that does not make us friends.”

Jean-Claude took a deep breath, let it out, and went very still. Still in that way that the old ones could go, so that you felt if you looked away they’d vanish, even though they were standing right there. His voice when it came was neutral, pleasant, in an empty, impersonal way. “As you like, Richard. Mon chat, and mon lupe, we do not have time for this.”

Richard turned toward him, his power filling up the room like hot bathwater that had gotten out of hand. You thought you were having a nice relaxing bath, and suddenly you were drowning. My pulse sped up, and the wolf inside me stirred.

I closed my eyes and started breathing, deep and even, breathing from the soles of my feet to the top of my chest. Deep cleansing breaths, to still that movement deep inside me. To isolate me from what Richard was doing. It was his power, not mine. I did not have to respond to it. Part of me believed that, but part of me knew better. His power and mine had married too tightly.

“Don’t call me that,” Richard said.

“If you are only my wolf to call and you are not my friend, then what else can I call you?” Jean-Claude’s voice was very flat when he said it. I realized suddenly that he was angry, too. Angry at Rafael? Angry at the Harlequin? Angry at everything?

“Not that, not just wolf.”

“You take insult where none is intended, but if you will find insult where none is meant, then perhaps I should try harder to insult on purpose.”

The sound of the heavy outer door banged loud in the charged silence. It made me jump. “Rafael is here,” Claudia said. Her voice managed to sound relieved and worried all at the same time, as if she was happy to cut the fight short, but worried what her king would do.

Richard was glaring at Jean-Claude, and the vampire was finally letting his anger show on his face when Rafael walked through the far drapes. Rafael was tall, dark, and handsome. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the six-foot, darkly Hispanic man in his nicely cut business suit. He’d left the tie off, so that the white dress shirt framed the hollow of his neck like an invitation. That last thought didn’t sound like my own. I glanced at Jean-Claude, wondering if it was his. He’d fed on someone’s blood today, I could tell that much, but I knew that sometimes he lusted after powerful blood the way that other men lusted after pretty women. What I hadn’t known until that moment was that he lusted after Rafael as food.

Another surprise was behind him. Louie Fane, Dr. Louis Fane, teacher of biology at Washington University, and live-in boyfriend of one of my best friends. Ronnie, Veronica,