Cerulean Sins - Laurell K. Hamilton [57]
“The underwear is silk, I’m not going to ruin it by wearing it in the tub, because you think I should put it on. Besides, you don’t really care if I’m naked or not. Remember?”
A headache was beginning just behind one eye. “No,” I said, “but I should care, shouldn’t I? I mean . . .”
Jason lowered us both into the water. It felt wonderful, so warm, so smooth, so good against my skin. Jason moved me gently in the water until I was sitting in front of him, cradled against his body.
The water was so warm, so warm, and I was so tired. It would feel so good to just sleep.
Jason’s arm on my waist jerked me back. “Anita, you can’t sleep in the bathtub, you’ll drown.”
“You won’t let me drown,” I said, and my voice was thick with warmth and sleep.
“No, I won’t let you drown,” he said.
I frowned, as I half-floated in the water. “What is wrong with me, Jason? I feel drunk.”
“You have been well and truly rolled by a vampire, Anita.”
“Jean-Claude can’t, his own marks protect me,” my voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.
“I never said it was Jean-Claude.”
“Asher,” I whispered the name.
“I’ve shared blood with him before, and it is the most amazing thing. Jean-Claude says he always holds back, because he knows I’m not his pomme de sang, I’m just a loaner.”
“Loaner,” I said.
“I don’t think Asher held back with you tonight.”
“The ardeur, we . . . were doing . . . the ardeur.” Each word was thick with effort.
“The ardeur could have made him careless,” Jason said. His hands were very solid on me, cradling me in the water more than against his body.
“Careless?” I said.
“Go ahead and pass out, Anita. When you wake up, we’ll talk.”
“ ’bout what?”
“Things,” he said, and his voice was sinking away into the candlelit dark. I didn’t remember him lighting the candles that Jean-Claude usually kept around the tub.
I started to ask, what things? but the words never made it out loud. I fell into a warm, soft darkness, where there was no fear, no pain. So warm, so safe, so loved.
15
I WOKE TO the phone ringing. I huddled in the sheets, trying not to hear it. God, I was tired. The bed moved, someone else fumbling for it. It wasn’t until Jason’s voice said, “Hello,” softly, as if he were afraid of waking me, that I woke completely. Why was Jason in my bedroom?
That question was answered as soon as I opened my eyes. I wasn’t in my bedroom, in fact, I didn’t know where the hell I was. The bed was a kingsize, but it was only pillows and a bed, no headboard, no footboard, only a bed, very modern, very normal. The only light was from a small door directly across from the foot of the bed, I could catch a glimpse of a bathtub, or shower. I followed the dim light out and found bare stone walls and knew I was still inside the Circus of the Damned, somewhere.
“She’s sick,” Jason said. He was quiet for a second. “She’s asleep. I’d rather not wake her.”
I tried to remember why I was here and came up with nothing, just a blank. I started to roll over, I think to ask who it was, when I realized I was naked. I pulled the sheets up over my breasts and turned over to see Jason.
He was laying on his side, his back to me, the sheet pulled down enough that I could see the top of his buttocks. What the fuck was I doing naked in a bed with Jason? Where was Jean-Claude? Okay, probably in his coffin, or his bed. I never shared the bed when he was stone cold. But why hadn’t I gone home?
“I don’t think she’s going to be well enough to come out today.”
I tried to sit up and found that the world wasn’t quite steady. Maybe sitting up wasn’t such a good idea. I stayed on my back, sheet clutched to my chest, and had to try twice to say, “I’m awake.” My mouth was incredibly dry.
Jason turned towards me. The movement pooled the sheet into his lap and left the backside of his body bare. He covered the receiver with his hand. “How do you feel?”
“How did I get here? Why am I here?” I asked in a voice so hoarse it barely sounded like me.
“Do you remember anything?”
I frowned, and that hurt. My throat hurt. I raised a hand and found a