Blood Noir - Laurell K. Hamilton [99]
If it had been Micah, or Richard, or a few others, they wouldn’t have had to pass out for hours after the change, but Jason and apparently the two tigers weren’t powerful enough not to fall into the coma just before the shift and just after. Or…I lowered the gun, having thought of another awful possibility.
Had the massive ardeur feeding taken too much of their energy? It was possible to drain someone to death with the ardeur. Logically, I knew that if they died they would revert to human form. But fears like this have nothing to do with logic. I suddenly went from afraid of the two weretigers to wondering if I’d killed them. No, no I’d seen Crispin and Jason breathing. I’d heard it. But I hadn’t really looked that closely at the red tiger. I stared at him now, trying to see the rise and fall of his chest.
I actually held my breath trying to see that wide striped chest move. I thought for a heartbeat he was dead, and then his body moved with his breathing. I let out the breath I’d been holding in a long sigh.
The bed moved as someone shifted position. I knew who it had to be before Crispin rose up on his arms and blinked blue tiger eyes at me.
I pointed the gun at him, two-handed, and the move was too fast. It pulled on the claw marks on my arm, and hurt like a son of a bitch. I held the pose, but had to fight my body to do it. I told him, “Don’t move!”
42
HE DIDN’T MOVE, but he said, “Do you wake all your lovers up at gunpoint?” His voice seemed deeper than it had last night. He coughed to clear his throat. It made me jump, not good when holding a gun. I fought to calm my body. If I shot him, I wanted it to be on purpose, not because I flinched. But I was afraid to take my finger off the trigger, because he was a lycanthrope, and they were just that bloody fast.
“I remember you fighting with Jason and me,” I said, gun still pointed at him.
He frowned. “Yeah, but the fight with your wolf was about you, being your mate. There was plenty of you to go around last night.”
“Thanks for the phrasing,” I said.
He smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend a woman holding a gun on me. But my point is that there’s no reason to fight when you share yourself so well. Besides, I got to go first.” The smile filled his eyes with a dark light. Not otherworldly, just a man looking at a naked woman whom he’s fucked. That possessive, sure-we’ll-get-to-do-it-again look. Crispin hadn’t earned that look, not yet.
My wounded arm was beginning to try to twitch. I fought to keep my aim steady. How badly was I hurt?
“If you’re not going to shoot me, may I get up and use the bathroom?”
“You don’t believe I’ll shoot you, do you?”
“I don’t remember everything from last night, which means I’ve been rolled. You rolled my mind just like any other vampire. Not that I’m complaining, the sex was mind-blowing, but you did mind fuck me. Legally, it’s rape. You raped me, not the other way around, Anita. I mean, I would have said yes, but a man likes to be asked. I should be the angry one, not you.”
I wanted to argue with his logic, but couldn’t. I did the one thing I could do: I lowered the gun. My arm was going to make me do it soon anyway.
“Does this mean it’s safe to go to the bathroom?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Great.” He got up, and it was interesting to see him moving a little stiffly, too. When the sex has been rough enough for the lycanthropes to be sore, us humans are going to be hurt.
There were scratches on his back, and they didn’t look like claw marks. Had I done that? And if I had, why hadn’t they healed when he shifted back? Only damage by silver or another lycanthrope could survive the shift of forms for the most part. So why would my nail marks still be on his body?