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Everything froze. Yvette raised a hand to her bleeding cheek. “How did you do that?”

“If I said I wasn’t really sure, would you believe me?”

“No,” she said.

“Then believe this, bitch. Finish this now or I will cut you up.” I believed it when I said it, even though I wasn’t sure I could ever repeat the performance. Only master vampires could cause cuts like that from a distance. I’d never even seen Jean-Claude do it.

Yvette believed me. She leaned close enough that the blood from the cut dripped onto Jason’s blond hair. “As you like, putain, but know this, I will not put him under. For this”—she showed the cut to me by a turn of her face—“he will suffer.”

“Ain’t it always the way,” I said.

She frowned at me, not the response she was expecting apparently. I put a hand on either side of Jason’s face, forced his eyes to meet mine. There was puzzlement under the fear now, because Jason knew I’d never done anything like what had just happened to Yvette. But we couldn’t say, golly, gee whiz, how’d I do that in front of the bad guys?

Yvette shifted until her body was pressed along the length of Jason’s. He moved against me. There was nothing between Jason and me but the leather of his pants and some satin. My body reacted. It was my turn to close my eyes so he wouldn’t see. Maybe it was the physical reaction, but I was suddenly drowning in the scent of fur, and the warm, close knowledge of his body. The munin was here in a warm, building rush.

I lifted my face and kissed him. The moment our lips touched, the power flowed between us. It was a binding of a different sort, better than with Nathaniel, and I knew why. Nathaniel wasn’t pack.

Jason didn’t kiss me back at first; then he sank into my mouth, into the warm power, and the power grew until I could feel it like a small hot wind across my body, across our bodies. The power flowed over Yvette and made her cry out. She plunged fangs into Jason’s neck. He screamed into my mouth, body stiffening, but the pain rode on the warm, building power and was washed away.

I could feel Yvette’s mouth like a siphon, sucking the power away. I thrust it into her and sent her reeling from us, drunk on more than blood.

Freed of Yvette’s body, Jason moved against me. He kissed me as if he’d climb inside and pull me around him, and I kissed him back. I’d welcomed Raina’s munin, and I didn’t know how to turn it off.

I felt his lower body react, felt him come, and that was enough to help me swim back into control. What a nice embarrassing moment to be driving again.

Jason collapsed on top of me, panting, but not from fear. I turned my face away so that I wouldn’t catch a glimpse of anyone gathered around us. Yvette lay on her side near us, curled into a ball, blood trailing down her chin. She licked the blood, almost halfheartedly as if even that small effort were too much. She spoke French to me: “Je reve de toi.” I’d heard a version of this before from Jean-Claude. She said she’d dream of us.

I heard myself say, “Why do the French always know exactly what to say at times like this?”

Jean-Claude knelt beside us. “It is genetic, ma petite.”

“Ah,” I said. I had trouble meeting his eyes with Jason still sprawled across my body.

“Jason,” I said, tapping his bare shoulder. He said nothing, just rolled off me to lie on the floor, closer to Yvette than I’d have ever thought he’d be willing to get.

I suddenly realized that my skirt was still up around my waist. Jean-Claude helped me sit up while I wiggled the dress down.

Richard knelt with us. I expected a scathing remark. I’d certainly given him enough ammo for one. He surprised me by saying, “Raina, gone, but not forgotten.”

I said, “No joke.”

“I’m sorry, Anita. When you told me, I didn’t realize it was an almost complete melding. I understand why you’re afraid of it now. There are things you can do to keep it from happening again. I was too angry at you to believe it was this bad.” A look crossed his face, part pain, part confusion. “I am sorry for