Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [1018]
“Gregory wouldn’t do it again, said he’d kill himself first, and Gabriel must have believed him.”
I kept petting his hair because I didn’t know what else to do. What do you say while someone whispers horrors in your ear, tells you their most intimate, nightmarish secrets? You sit and you listen. And you give them the only thing you can—the silence and the safety to talk and to be heard.
His voice dropped soft, softer, until I had to lean my face over his to hear him. “They chained me down, and I knew the script. I knew what was about to happen, and I was excited. The fear made the anticipation almost unbearable.”
I laid my cheek against his, felt his mouth move as he spoke, and I kept very, very quiet. I had nothing to offer but my silence, and my touch.
He whispered, “I like teeth, biting, I like a lot of damage. It was wonderful until . . .” He closed his eyes, turned his face into my jeans, as if even now he couldn’t look at the memory. I had lifted my head up when he moved, but laid a gentle kiss on the back of his head. “It’s okay, Nathaniel, it’s okay.”
He said something, but I couldn’t understand it.
“What?”
He moved his head just enough so that his mouth wasn’t buried against my leg. “God, it hurt. She took it in pieces, wanted it to last longer than it had with Gregory.”
His whole body gave one great shiver, and I leaned over him, my free hand across his back, smoothing the hair away so I could reach his skin. I stroked over his back, and found all the little bite marks I’d left in his skin. I hadn’t felt bad for marking him, until now. Now I felt like I’d used him like everyone else had.
I curled my body over his, hugging him into my lap, holding him as close as I could. “I am sorry, Nathaniel, so sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Anita. You’ve never hurt me.”
“Yes, I have.”
He raised up enough to meet my eyes. He looked so young, eyes wide. “I love that you’ve marked me, don’t be sorry about that.” He gave a small smile. “If you start feeling guilty about it, you won’t do it again, and I want you to, I want that very much.”
“If I feed on you, Nathaniel, for the ardeur, or the flesh, or whatever, I’m using you. I don’t use people.”
He held my hand so tight that it almost hurt. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t punish me for telling you about how Raina hurt me.”
“I’m not punishing you.”
“I tell you this horrible thing, and you start feeling protective of me, and guilty. I know you, Anita, you’ll let your head get in the way of what we both need.”
“And what exactly is that?” And even I could hear the impatience, almost anger, in my voice.
He raised up farther, bringing his face close to mine, because I’d sat up, distancing myself from him. “You need to feed the ardeur, and I need to have a place to belong.”
“You are welcome in my house as long as you need it, Nathaniel.”
He shook his head, pushing the hair back impatiently, letting go of my hand, putting his hands on my knees, half-crawling under the table so that he was kneeling between my legs, though only his hands touched the tops of my knees. He stared up at me. “No, you tolerate me. I do some housework, errands, but I don’t belong. You don’t go through your day thinking about me. I’m here, but I’m not part of your life, I know that. If I am your pomme de sang, then I will be. I’ll finally belong to you in a way that both of us can live with.”
I shook my head. “No, Nathaniel, no.”
He grabbed the legs of the chair and picked the entire thing up with me on it from a kneeling position and moved it backwards with a bump, so he could fit under the table better. He hadn’t even strained when he did it. He put his hands on the chair arms, slid his lower body against the chair, putting my knees on either side of his hips.
“And who else are you going to feed off of every day? Richard? Jean-Claude? Micah?”
“The ardeur may be temporary,” I said.
He put a hand on either side of my waist.