Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [519]
I was surprised that Nathaniel hadn’t flashed me his wounds earlier. He usually went to great lengths to show me his body. What had changed?
Marianne pointed to the phone beside the bed. “In case your police friend calls you. I’ve got a cordless phone for normal calls, but I use the bedside phone for pack business.”
“So no one can accidentally monitor the cordless phone,” I said.
Marianne nodded. She walked to the vanity, which had a heavy oval mirror and marble knobs on the drawers. “When I was a little girl and I was hurt or lonely, especially when it was so hot, my mother would unbraid my hair and brush it. She’d brush it until it lay like silk down my back.” She turned with a brush in her hands. “Even now, when I am low, one of my greatest pleasures is for some friend to brush my hair.”
I looked at her. “Are you suggesting I brush your hair?”
She smiled, and it was bright and charming, and I didn’t trust it. “No, I am suggesting you brush Nathaniel’s hair.”
I kept staring at her. “Come again?”
She walked towards me, offering me the brush, that too-cheery smile on her face. “Part of what makes you vulnerable to Raina is your own squeamishness.”
“I’m not squeamish.”
“Prudishness, then,” she said.
I frowned at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that every time one of the lycanthropes disrobes, you get embarrassed. Every time one of them touches you, you take it sexually. That isn’t always what they mean. A healthy pack or pard is built up of a thousand gentle touches. A million small comforts. It’s like building a relationship with a boyfriend. Every touch builds and strengthens it.”
My frown deepened. “I thought you said it wasn’t sexual.”
It was her turn to frown. “A different metaphor then. It is like building your relationship with a newborn baby. Every touch, every time you feed him when he’s hungry, change him when he’s wet, comfort him when he’s frightened—the everyday intimacies forge a bond between you. True parenthood is built over years of interdependency. The bond between the pack is built much the same way.”
I glanced back at the bed. Nathaniel was still lying there naked except for the sheets on his legs. I turned back to Marianne. “If he was a newborn baby, I’d be fine with him being naked. I might be afraid I’d drop him, but I wouldn’t be embarrassed.”
“And that is precisely my point,” she said. She held the brush out to me. “If you could control the munin, you could heal his wounds. You could take his pain.”
“You’re not suggesting that I purposely try to call Raina?”
“No, Anita. This is the first lesson, not the graduation exercise. Today, I simply want you to begin to try and be more comfortable around their nudity. I believe that if you can desensitize yourself to the more casual sexual situations, that Raina will have less hold on you. You draw away from situations like this, and that leaves a void, a place where you will not go willingly. So Raina spills into that void and forces you to go much farther than you would have gone on your own.”
“And what good will brushing Nathaniel’s hair do?”
She held the brush inches from me, arms folded. “It is a small thing, Anita. A thing to give him comfort while we wait for Dr. Patrick to come. Patrick will give him a local for the pain, but sometime before he is finished stitching him up, the painkiller will wear off. Their metabolism is too fast for a local, and giving more than that can be tricky. It can be deadly in one with such a low aura of power as Nathaniel.”
I stared up at her, meeting those calm, serious grey eyes. “You’re saying that he’ll be stitched up without a painkiller.”
She just looked at me.
“And that’s my fault because I could heal him if I could control the munin.”
Marianne shook her head. “It is not your fault, Anita, not yet. But the munin is a tool like your guns or your necromancy. Once you learn how to control it, it can do wonderful things.