Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [106]
“You are throwing me out of my own bedroom?” He looked amused.
“Yeah.” I stood up and was only a little wobbly on the high heels.
Jean-Claude sighed. “I am to be relegated forever to my coffin then, to never know the joy of your company for my slumber.”
“You don’t go to sleep, Jean-Claude. You die. Maybe I lust after your warm, breathing body, but I’m not up to the full package yet.”
He smiled. “Very well, ma petite. I will leave you and Monsieur Zeeman to discuss the last few minutes. I would ask one thing.”
“And that is?” I asked.
“That you not make love in my bed when I cannot join you.”
I sighed. “It would be pretty tacky to make love with Richard in your bed. I think you’re safe on that one.”
Jean-Claude glanced at Richard. His eyes seemed to take in every inch of him, lingering on the open wound at his neck, though maybe that was just my imagination. “If anyone could withstand the temptation, it is you, ma petite.” Jean-Claude looked at me, his face unreadable. “I am sorry you were nearly hurt. I did not mean for that to happen.”
“You always have good intentions,” I said.
He sighed, then smiled. He glanced at Richard. “Perhaps I am not the better monster, after all.”
“Get out,” I said.
He left, still smiling. He closed the door behind him, and I was left with his power dancing over my skin, the feel of his lips and hands on my body. It was only a kiss. Foreplay. But even the rush of adrenaline, of nearly being thrown into a wall, couldn’t chase away the aftereffects.
Richard stood staring at me, as if he could sense the power somehow. “I’ll go get the bags,” he said. He could have said so many things, but that was safest.
He went to get the bags, and I sat down on the bed. Richard could have killed me. Jean-Claude would never have lost control like that. I wanted Richard to embrace his beast, but maybe, just maybe, I didn’t understand what that meant.
23
* * *
I SAT on the edge of the bed, waiting for Richard to come back into the room. My skin was jumping from Jean-Claude’s parting gift. Only a kiss, and Richard had nearly torn into Jean-Claude and me. What would Richard have done if he’d caught us doing something truly lascivious? It was better not to find out.
Richard set my suitcase and both bags inside the door. He went out and came back with his small overnight bag.
He stood there, just inside the door, staring at me. I stared back. Blood still trickled down his throat from where I’d cut him. Neither of us seemed to know what to say. The silence grew until it was so thick it began to have weight.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said. “I’ve never lost control like that before.” He took a step into the room. “But seeing you with him . . .” He held out his hands, then let them fall to his sides, helplessly.
“It was only a kiss, Richard. That’s all.”
“It’s never only a kiss with Jean-Claude.”
I couldn’t argue that.
“I wanted to kill him,” Richard said.
“I noticed.”
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“How’s your neck?” I asked.
He touched the wound and came away with fresh blood. “Silver blade, it won’t heal immediately.” He came to stand in front of me, looking down, so close that the legs of his jeans nearly brushed my knees. It was almost too close. The lingering brush of Jean-Claude’s power made my skin ache. Richard’s nearness made it worse.
If I stood up, our bodies would touch, he was that close. I stayed sitting, trying to swallow the last bits of Jean-Claude’s kiss. I wasn’t sure what would happen if I touched Richard now. It felt almost like whatever Jean-Claude had done reacted to Richard’s body. Or maybe it was me. Maybe I was becoming that needy. Maybe my body was tired of saying no.
“Would you really have killed me?” Richard asked. “Could you have plunged that blade home?”
I stared up at him and wanted to lie to the sincerity in his eyes, but I didn’t. Whatever we were doing with each other, whatever we meant to each other, it couldn’t be based