Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [751]
The Ulfric had moved closer, close enough that he was standing with his body touching my legs. The wolf that he’d introduced as his lupa moved up to nuzzle at my knee, and he hit her. He backhanded her the way you’d hit a dog you didn’t like much. Where was women’s lib when you needed it? She went to her belly, crying in doggy fashion, telling him she hadn’t meant any harm with her tail tight curled to her rump.
No one else tried to move forward. If the lupa couldn’t share, the rest of them knew better than to try.
The Ulfric stayed pressed against my legs. “Let me take it out of your arm.” He stared at my bleeding arm like I’d stripped for him, something beyond sex, beyond hunger, and yet a little of both. I raised the arm so the blood trickled down it in fast little streams of red, splashing down into the glass. His gaze followed the movement like a dog after a piece of food.
The truth was that letting people lick a wound directly tended to distract me. Through the marks I was bound to a werewolf and a vampire. Both of which found blood exciting. The thoughts that filled me when I shared blood with anyone were too primitive, too overwhelming. Especially now with my shields in ruins, I couldn’t risk it. “Is the gift worthy?” I asked.
“You know it is,” and his voice had that peculiar hoarseness that men get when sex is in the air.
“Then drink, Ulfric, drink. Don’t waste it.” I held the bloody glass out to him. He took it reverently in both hands. He drank, and I watched his throat convulse as he swallowed my blood. It should have bothered me more, I guess, but it didn’t. The numbness was back, a distant, almost comfortable feeling. I fished under the bar until I found a stack of clean napkins and pressed them to my arm. The napkins soaked crimson in moments.
The Ulfric had waded into the pack with my blood in his hands. They surrounded him, touching him, caressing, begging for him to share. He dipped his fingers in the nearly empty cup and held them down for the wolves to lick.
Edward came to stand near me. He said nothing, just helped me put pressure on the wound, got more napkins from under the bar and a clean cloth to tie it tight. Our eyes met, and he just shook his head, the faintest of smiles playing on his face. “Most people pay money for information.”
“Money doesn’t interest most of the people I deal with.”
The Ulfric called back to me through the reaching werewolves. His mouth was bloodstained, his neat beard and mustache thick with my blood. He stared at me with his golden eyes and said, “If you want to talk to Nicky, help yourself.”
“Thank you, Ulfric,” I said. I hopped down off the bar, and Edward had to catch me or I’d have fallen. Fresh blood loss on top of everything else was not what I had needed. I waved him away, and he didn’t argue.
Edward undid Nicky’s gag, and took a step back. The werewolves had pulled back, giving us the illusion of privacy, though I knew that every werewolf in the room would hear us, even if we whispered.
“Hi, Nicky,” I said.
He had to try twice before he said, “Anita.”
“I was here before ten.” I put my hands on the bar and propped my chin on them so he wouldn’t have to strain. The movement hurt my back, but somehow I wanted to be on eye level with him. The bulky makeshift bandage seemed to be in the way, but I wanted to keep the arm elevated. Nicky looked even worse up close. One eye was completely closed, blackened and blood-filled. His nose looked broken, blood bubbling from it when he breathed.
“He came back into town early.”
“I figured as much. You’ve been a very bad boy, Nicky. Pissing off your Ulfric, power play behind his back when you’re just human, not even a werewolf, and that thing. That’s not