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“It is possible to feed from a distance without touching,” Jean-Claude said.

“That’s why a strip club was your first business. You were feeding off the lust.”

“Oui, ma petite.”

“Teach me to feed from a distance.” Even as I said distance Asher drew my hand to his cheek and rubbed against it like a cat. I had to close my eyes for a second, but I didn’t tell him to stop.

“Feeding from a distance is a poor substitute for a true feeding.”

I opened my eyes and stared at him across the room, and now I could feel him. I could feel his need—for blood, sex, love, and the touch of our flesh against his. He wrapped his arms around his body, as if he were cold, or didn’t trust himself not to leave the bed and come to us.

“Teach me anyway,” I said.

“I cannot, not this soon. In a few nights I will instruct you, but your control is not . . . complete enough yet.”

I started to say, “try me,” but Asher drew my finger into his mouth in one long, wet line, and I suddenly couldn’t think.

“Come to bed, ma petite,” Jean-Claude said. “If you feed here, there is a chance you may be sated enough that you will not press our so-stubborn Richard.”

The thought was enough to dim the desire for a moment or two. I drew my hand away from Asher, and he didn’t protest. The sheer horror of what I’d be like around Richard with this inside me helped me think. Being around him normally made me want sex, but now . . . “My God, I’ll be lucky if I don’t just strip down and do him in the lupanar.” I stared at Jean-Claude. “What do I do?”

“I say again, ma petite, if you feed now off of such rich fare, you may be too full to need to feed again so soon. It is all I can offer you for tonight. You could simply delay the meeting for a few nights.”

I shook my head. “They’ll kill Gregory. I have to get him out tonight.”

“Then come and feed.”

“Define feed?”

“Drink their lust,” he said.

I looked at Jason and Nathaniel, and they weren’t even trying for neutral. The looks on their faces brought heat in a rush up my face. I shook my head.

“You do not have to have intercourse to feed from them, as you have discovered.”

“Aww,” Jason said, but the look on his face didn’t match the light teasing of his voice. They were responding to my need, the way I’d responded for so long to Jean-Claude’s, drawn like a moth to a flame. You just couldn’t help wanting to touch it, even when you knew it would burn.

Asher stood. “I will leave you alone. But with permission, I would feed on Nathaniel as my pomme de sang for the day.”

“No,” I said.

His eyes widened just a touch, face going neutral, eyes empty and cool as a spring sky. I felt him draw away from me. “As you wish.” He turned for the door.

I grabbed his hand, slid my fingers between his. “Come to bed, Asher.”

I’d thought his face was as blank and careful as it could get. I was wrong. His voice held nothing when he asked, “What do you mean?”

“I can’t give you back what you had. I can’t even give you . . .” I stopped and tried again. “But I can let you feed together again.”

“How?”

“If Nathaniel says it’s okay, you can take blood from him, and Jean-Claude will take blood from Jason. You can feed together.”

“Do you know how intimate a thing it is to feed together on your pomme de sang? A pomme de sang is not a casual feeding, it is intimate, to be shared only with intimate companions.”

I entwined my fingers around his hand. “I know.” I took a step towards the bed, drawing him with me. “Let us feed on your lust, Asher, as in days of old.”

Asher stared past me at Jean-Claude. “The last time two fed from my desire, it was Belle and you.”

“I remember,” Jean-Claude said softly.

He held his hand out to Asher from across the room, and I was reminded of him reaching for Asher all those centuries ago. “Let it be again as it was before, but better this time. Anita loves you as you are now, not as some ideal thing like a butterfly on a pin to be tossed aside if a wing falls away. Come to us, Asher, come to us both.”

Asher