Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [472]
My leg brushed something in the leaves. I pulled away from him enough to find my knife. I sheathed it.
From across the small clearing, Jason said, “Here’s the other one.” He held it up by the blade.
I went to him, taking the blade from his hand. I could feel all of them watching me. Like I was something new and uncertain that had just appeared. I sheathed the second blade.
Jason grinned up at me. “Don’t take this wrong, Anita, but someday I’d like to do that for real.”
“Why not tonight?” I said.
Jason stared up at me. “What did you say?”
I walked back across the clearing. I felt their eyes following me as I moved. I smelled of blood and power and flesh, and there was nothing better than that for attracting werewolves.
Richard stood there in his jeans and T-shirt. His hair foamed around his shoulders, a soft, rich brown in the moonlight.
I grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt and forced his face low enough for me to kiss. The kiss was long and full, and he tasted all the blood I’d had. Every skin I’d touched. I pulled his shirt out of his pants in a long motion, running my hands across his bare stomach, across the smooth hardness of his chest.
He grabbed my arms and pulled my hands away. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Is she not good enough for you either?” It was Lucy striding towards us. Her impressive breasts strained against the white material of her halter top. Either she had very large nipples or she was cold, because the outline of her nipples was clear, even in this dim light.
I stared up at Richard. I’d been sleeping with Jean-Claude. He’d been sleeping with Lucy and Mira—mustn’t forget Mira. It was fair that he had other lovers. Really. But I hated it and hated me for minding. Hated me for wanting him. Hated me for being with Jean-Claude and not being happy with it. Hated me for knowing that even if I’d been with Richard instead, I’d have been missing Jean-Claude. I was fucked no matter what I did.
I knew as I stared at her that the hands that held my arms with such tender strength had cupped those large, round breasts. I knew that she’d touched him, all of him. That she’d held him naked inside her. And I knew jealousy so strong that the only word for it was hate.
I pulled away from Richard and unsheathed one of the knives.
Shang-Da moved forward as if to step between us, but Richard stopped him and made him step back. He just stared at Shang-Da until he stepped out of reach, but you could tell from his face that he was really unhappy about it. I didn’t blame him. Richard turned back to me, stared at me, but made no move to protect himself. I don’t know if he didn’t believe I’d hurt him or was sure I couldn’t. I was sure I could.
My hand was already on the downward stroke before I could stop myself. I sliced through his shirt, not deep, but the wound bled.
He winced, eyes so lost, hurt. Fuck him.
Shang-Da was there, and it was Richard who struggled with him. Richard who kept him from grabbing me, disarming me, hurting me.
I put the tip of the blade against my chest and drew downward over my heart. The pain was sharp and immediate, but it was shallow. I wasn’t hurt. The blood trickled down between my breasts like tickling fingers. The blood was very dark against the whiteness of my skin.
Richard started towards me, and Verne caught him. “It’s her choice,” Verne said.
“It’s not her. It’s Raina,” Richard said.
But in a way he was wrong. Raina had finally found something that called to both of us. We both wanted him to suffer. We both felt betrayed. And neither of us had a right to it. We’d both betrayed him in our own ways.
Words that I didn’t know spilled from my lips. “Your heart to mine, mine to yours. Lupa to your Ulfric. But not to your bed, nor you to mine.” I threw the knife into