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I frowned at him. “Just answer the question.”

The laughter faded, almost like a person, instead of that abrupt change he usually did. “Asher and I would likely have come to an understanding if it would not have cost me you, ma petite.”

“An understanding. Now who’s being coy?” I said.

He gave that Gallic shrug that meant everything and nothing. “You would not be comfortable with brutal honesty, ma petite.”

“Fine, if I could have stomached it, would you have taken Asher back as your lover by now?”

He thought about it, then finally, “I do not know, ma petite.”

“I know you love him.”

“Oui, but that does not mean we could be lovers again. When he and I were happiest, it was with Julianna. You might be able to stand us as lovers out of your sight, as long as we did not act like lovers in front of you. I do not think you would like watching Asher and me hold hands in front of you.”

Put that way, he was right. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying that Asher deserves better than a hidden relationship where we could never show public affection for fear of hurting you. I would rather give him up completely to someone else, male or female, than force him to play second—or lower—to you forever.”

I opened my mouth to say that I liked Asher, even loved him in a way, but I didn’t, because I didn’t want to raise the possibility of a true ménage a` trois. What I’d seen with Micah and Jean-Claude had already bugged me a lot. I just couldn’t deal with two men and me. Yeah, yeah, it was the Midwestern, middle-class value system, but it was the way I looked at the world. I couldn’t change that, could I? And if I could, did I want to?

I didn’t know. I just didn’t know. The fact that the thought didn’t make me run screaming into the night bothered me, but not as much as I thought it should have.

54

JEAN-CLAUDE GAVEJASON the keys to the locks on the silver chains. He’d spent the last hour explaining everyone’s job. Jason would be the appetizer, oh, sorry, Gretchen’s first feeding. It couldn’t be someone human because the first feeding after being in the box could be quite . . . traumatic. Jean-Claude’s choice of words, not mine. So basically Jason got to be point man and take the first damage. Then it was Jean-Claude’s turn to donate blood. The vamp’s master gave a feeding and rebound the vamp to the blood oaths that connected them either to the Master of the City, their bloodline, their maker, or, in Jean-Claude’s case, all three. All three was better; the stronger the original connection, the greater chance the vampire had of healing the damage.

That last part made me worry for Damian. I wasn’t his maker, I wasn’t his bloodline, or his Master of the City. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was to him. To that question, Jean-Claude had said, “You are his master, ma petite. Whatever that means for a necromancer, that is what you are to him. If taking blood from you doesn’t reconnect him, then Asher will try. Failing that, they will fetch me from Gretchen. Damian must rebind his ties to one of us, or he is lost.”

“Define lost,” I said.

“The madness may be permanent.”

“Shit.”

“Oui.”

But first Gretchen, so that I could see it done, understand the process better.

Jason unlocked the chains. They fell off the coffin and clunked against the wood, a dull, harsh sound. It made me jump. Gretchen had tried to kill me when she only thought I was dating Jean-Claude. She might rise from the coffin bent on killing me. I’d been her advocate, demanding Jean-Claude let her out. Now as Jason undid the locks on the lid itself, my chest was tight, and I had to fight to keep my hand away from my gun. It would be stupid—not to mention ironic—if I had to kill her the moment she rose. I could just hear Jean-Claude’s dry, And this is an improvement, ma petite? I said a quick prayer that it wouldn’t come to that. I didn’t want to kill her, I wanted to save her. Wanting to do the last didn’t mean I wouldn’t do the first, but it did mean I would try to avoid it.

Jason raised the lid, slowly. Not because it was heavy, but because, I think,