Cerulean Sins - Laurell K. Hamilton [34]
She laughed then, head back, very unladylike, a bray of sound like a hound baying. I hadn’t said anything that funny, had I?
Jean-Claude’s quiet voice came into the silence that followed that laugh. “Musette’s interests run to pain more than sex, ma petite.”
I looked at him. “You don’t mean dominance and submission where you have safe words, do you?”
“There is no word in any language that I have ever heard screamed that would dissuade Musette from her pleasures.”
I licked my suddenly dry lips. They lie about that moisturizing lipstick. Your lips still dry out when you get scared. “Let me test my understanding. If Asher was your lover, or mine, or anyone’s, then he’d be safe from her?”
“Non, ma petite, Asher would only be safe if he belonged to you, or me. Lesser powers cannot protect those they love.”
“But because we’re not doing him, he’s free meat?” I asked.
He seemed to think about that for a time. “That is accurate enough, oui.”
“Fuck,” I said.
“Oui, ma petite, oui.” A thread of tiredness had finally broken through his empty voice.
I looked at Asher, and he was hiding behind that shining hair again. What was I supposed to say, that if I hadn’t been so squeamish this wouldn’t be happening? I’m sorry I have issues with my boyfriend doing other men. I’m sorry I have issues with me doing other men. Why was I always being made to feel guilty because I wasn’t having sex with more people? Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around?
Musette held her hand out to Asher. He stood there for a second or two, then he took her hand. He looked back once at Jean-Claude, a shine of eyes in all that hair. Jean-Claude never reacted, as if he were trying to pretend he wasn’t there.
I moved forward, only Damian’s fingers digging into my shoulders brought me up short. “We are not letting her do this,” I said.
“She is Musette, and Belle Morte’s lieutenant.” Jean-Claude’s voice had gone small and distant.
Musette didn’t take him through the drapes into another room. She stopped a few yards away, not even that close to the “walls.” She turned Asher to face her, then she drew a knife from her white skirts, and plunged it into his stomach before anyone could react. Asher could move faster than the eye could follow, but he made no move to protect himself. He just let her sink the knife home, grinding it until the hilt met his skin, and she couldn’t push it in any farther.
I had my gun out of the holster, and Jean-Claude grabbed my hand. “The knife is not silver, ma petite, when it is removed he will heal almost instantly.”
I looked up at him, straining to raise the gun, and making some progress. Thanks to his own vampire marks, I was stronger than I should have been. “How do you know it’s not silver?”
“Because I have played this game with Musette before.”
That made me stop trying to bring the gun up. I went quiet in his hands. Their hands, I should have said, because Damian’s hands were plastered to my shoulders. Only Jason hadn’t joined in trying to hold me back. From the look on his face I think he wanted to help me, not hinder me.
I looked past Jean-Claude to see Asher still standing, his hands to his stomach where blood blossomed across the skin of his hands. The brown of the shirt was dark enough to hide the first rush of blood. Musette put the knife to her delicate mouth and licked down the blade.
I knew through Jean-Claude’s memories that vampire blood gives no sustenance. You cannot feed from the dead, not in that way.
Asher looked at us. “It is not silver, ma cherie, it will not kill me.” His breath was cut off in his throat, as Musette plunged the knife in a second time.
The world swam in streamers of colors. I closed my eyes for a second and spoke in a low, careful voice. “Let go of me, Damian.” The hands at my back dropped away instantly, because I’d given a direct order. I opened my eyes and met Jean-Claude’s gaze. We stared at each other, until his hand dropped, slowly, away. His voice echoed like a whisper in my mind, “You cannot kill her for this.”
I put my gun back