Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [1067]
Caleb’s eyes were a little wide. I think I’d shocked him. Good to know that I could. “You’re deeply moral,” Merle said, a tone in his voice like he was surprised.
“My own version of it, yeah.”
“You hold to your own rules no matter what?” Merle made it a question.
I nodded. “Most of the time.”
“What will make you break your own moral code?”
“Harm to my people, survival, the usual.”
Merle’s eyes flicked to Micah, sitting beside me. It was a small movement. If I hadn’t been looking directly at him, I’d have missed it.
“What?” I asked, glancing from one to the other.
Merle answered, “You sound like Micah.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing,” I said.
He shook his head. “Not a bad thing, Anita, not a bad thing at all, just . . . unexpected.”
“You still don’t sound entirely happy about it,” I said.
“Merle worries too much,” Micah said.
I glanced at him, but he was watching the big man. Micah had tied his hair back while it was still wet, so that it lay flat to his head, utterly straight until it spilled out into the long ponytail, where the curls spilled like froth along his spine. His hair lay like brown velvet against the charcoal gray of his shirt.
“What does Merle worry about?” I asked.
“Taking care of me, mostly, and now, I think, you.”
I looked at the big man. “Is that what you’re worrying about?”
“Something like that,” Merle said. He’d put a clean white T-shirt underneath his jean jacket, but other than that, he was wearing an identical outfit to the first one I’d ever seen him in. If he’d been wearing more leather, he’d have looked like an aging biker.
Micah turned towards me. His shirt made that rich, slithery sound that silk makes against leather seats. The dark gray shirt was short-sleeved, button-up, dressy. The color brought out the gold-green of his eyes, made his skin look even darker. He’d matched the shirt with black jeans, black belt, silver buckle, soft black tie-up shoes. It occurred to me for the first time that he looked like he’d dressed for a date. Had he dressed to impress me or Jean-Claude? It was a semiformal occasion for any alpha to meet the Master of the City. But especially one that was fucking the Master’s human servant. I just wasn’t sure how to handle the whole situation. Jean-Claude had taken Micah in stride in theory, but how would he react to seeing him in the flesh? How would Micah react to seeing Jean-Claude?
Damn it, I had enough to worry about without having to juggle male egos.
“You’re frowning again,” Micah said.
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. Let’s get this over with.”
“Why do you sound less than thrilled?”
I had my door open and turned back around to say, “We’re here to rescue Damian. I don’t know what shape he’s going to be in. Why would I be thrilled?”
“I know you’re worried about your friend, but are you sure that that’s really what’s bothering you?”
I frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m nervous about meeting the Master of the City, too.”
It was almost like he’d read my mind. We didn’t know each other well enough for him to really read me, but . . . he was either telepathic, which I didn’t believe, or he could read me that well. I wasn’t sure which thought bothered me more.
I let out a breath and half slumped in the seat. “Yeah, I’m a little nervous about introducing you to Jean-Claude. He was cool about you in the abstract, even knowing that we’ve been together, but seeing you in the flesh . . .” I tried to think how to word it. “I don’t know how he’ll feel about that.”
“Will it make you feel any better if I promise to behave myself.”
“Maybe, if you can pull it off.”
“I can pull it off,” he said, giving me very serious eye contact. He certainly vibrated sincerity.
“Don’t take this wrong, Micah, but I’ve been