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Richard got to his feet, a little unsteady. He caught himself against the bed and took a step towards me. The Firestar and the Browning were somewhere on the floor in the welter of red silk and tossed mattress.

I backed away until I hit the corner, and I had nowhere else to go. I was still clutching the sheet around me like it was some kind of protection.

I held out a hand towards Richard, as if that would help. “What do you want from me, Richard? What do you want me to say? I’m sorry. I am sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that I can’t handle what I saw last night. I’m sorry.”

He stalked towards me, not saying anything, hands balled into fists. I realized that I was afraid of Richard. That I wasn’t sure what he’d do when he reached me, and I wasn’t armed. Part of me felt like I deserved to be hit at least once, that I owed that to him. But after seeing what he’d done to the bed, I wasn’t sure I’d survive it.

Richard grabbed the front of the sheet, balling it in his fist, jerking me against him. He used the sheet to raise me to tiptoe. He kissed me. For a second I froze. Hitting, yelling, that I’d expected, but not this.

His mouth bruised against my lips, forcing my mouth open. The moment I felt his tongue, I jerked my head back.

Richard put a hand on the back of my head like he’d force me to kiss him. The rage in his face was frightening.

“Not good enough to kiss now?”

“I saw you eat Marcus last night.”

He let me go so suddenly I fell to the floor, stumbling over the sheet. I tried to get to my knees, but my legs had tangled. The sheet slipped over one breast. I struggled to cover myself. Embarrassed at last.

“Two nights ago, you let me touch them, suck them. Now I can’t even see them.”

“Don’t do this, Richard.”

He went to all fours in front of me, so we’d be on eye level. “Don’t do what? Don’t be mad that you let the vampire fuck you?” He crawled forward until our faces were almost touching. “You fucked a corpse last night, Anita. Did it feel good?”

I stared at him from inches away, not embarrassed anymore. Instead, I was getting pissed. “Yeah, it did.”

He jerked back from me like I’d hit him. His face crumpled, and his eyes searched the room frantically. “I love you.” He looked up suddenly, eyes wide and pain-filled. “I love you.”

I kept my eyes very wide so the tears in them wouldn’t fall out and run down my cheeks. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

He turned away from me, still kneeling. He slapped his hands against the floor. He pounded his hands into the floor over and over until blood smeared on the white carpet.

I got to my feet. I hovered over him, afraid to touch him. “Richard, Richard, don’t, please don’t.” The tears fell and I couldn’t stop them.

I knelt beside him. “You’re hurting yourself. Stop it!” I grabbed his wrists, held his bleeding hands in mine. He stared at me, and the look on his face was raw, human.

I touched his face, gently tracing the claw marks. He leaned into me, tears spilling down his cheeks. The look in his eyes held me immobile. His lips brushed mine, soft. I didn’t flinch, but I didn’t kiss him back, either.

He moved back from me, just enough to see my face clearly. “Good-bye, Anita.” He got to his feet.

I wanted to say so much, but none of it would help. Nothing would make it better. Nothing would erase what I’d seen last night or how it had made me feel. “Richard . . . I . . . I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” He walked to the door. He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll always love you.”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came. There was nothing left to say but, “I love you, Richard, and I am sorrier than I know how to say.”

He opened the door and stepped through it without looking back. When the door closed behind him, I sat on the floor, huddled in the silk sheet. I could smell Jean-Claude’s cologne on the silk, but I could smell Richard now, too. His aftershave clung to the sheets, to my mouth.

How could I let him go like this? How could I call him back? I sat on