Incubus Dreams - Laurell K. Hamilton [206]
Jean-Claude was standing there, in front of me. “Ma petite,” he whispered, “ma petite.” But I knew what he was thinking, I knew what he wanted. Bound closer than we’d ever been, it cut both ways. He mouthed something about how did I feel, was I alright, but that wasn’t what he was thinking. Not really.
“Say what you want,” I said, “say what you want.”
He stopped trying to be careful, and said, simply, “Kiss me.”
I went to him, and he kissed me. He kissed me as if he were tasting me, as if with tongue and teeth and lips he could drain from me every last drop of Nathaniel’s blood and the taste of me along with it. He licked the roof of my mouth and drew a sound from low in my throat. His eyes had bled to midnight blue light, as if the darkest of water held starlight in it.
I caught the glint of my own eyes, and they were still full of light, blind with the darkness of it, except it wasn’t blind, it was anything but. It was like being hyperaware of everything, anything. I knew suddenly that as long as the light lasted, that every sense would be heightened. I remembered thinking in the cemetery that to make love like this would either be the most wondrous thing ever, or drive you mad. Staring up into Jean-Claude’s drowning blue eyes, I was willing to bet on wondrous.
“We must see to Nathaniel first,” he said, but his voice was hoarse and thick with need.
I nodded. “Yes, Nathaniel first.”
“And then?” he asked.
“Say what you mean,” I said, and my voice wasn’t as hoarse as his, but it didn’t sound exactly like me either.
“And then there is a couch in my office,” he said.
“I was thinking the desk,” I said.
He looked at me, and even with those drowning eyes, the look was very male. “Either will do for me, but it is you who will be on bottom, so it is your choice.”
“I’ll be on bottom?” I made it a question.
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because that is what I want.”
“Okay,” I said.
44
NATHANIEL WAS DONE for the night, there would be no shapeshifting. He was barely conscious in that after great sex kind of way. A few of the customers complained, but not many. Most of them felt that they’d had a show worth the price of admission. We got Nathaniel settled in what the strippers called the quiet room. It had an oversized couch, blankets, low lights, and was just what the name implied, a quiet room, where you could either sleep or get your shit together when things went odd. There were smaller rooms where you could pay to have a private dance, but this wasn’t one of them. This was more a room for crashing when you were tired or had to pull a surprise double shift.
I stroked Nathaniel’s hair, and asked him, “Are you alright?”
He’d opened his eyes just barely and smiled up at me. I’d never seen his face so content. “Yes, very, yes.”
I told him to enjoy the afterglow, and I put Requiem on the door, because Nathaniel was mine to take care of, and I planned on being busy for awhile.
My eyes had bled back to normal by the time I walked down the hallway toward Jean-Claude’s office. He stopped in the hallway and called after me, “Where are you going, ma petite?”
I paused at the door and looked at him. “To your office.”
“Your mood is cooler now, and the power has left you.” He was trying to be utterly neutral, and failing just a bit.
I opened the door still looking at him. “Come into the office, Jean-Claude, and lock the door.” I didn’t wait to see what he’d do, I went through the door, leaving it open behind me. I went to the desk and hopped up on it. I could have tried for subtle, but it was late, and I didn’t feel the least bit subtle. I put my boots up on the desk, my legs apart, and let the skirt ride up as far as it wanted to go. It was outrageously