The Killing Dance - Laurell K. Hamilton [62]
He smiled, wicked, enticing. The smile that the serpent must have given Eve. “I think we will dance well together, ma petite.”
“I doubt it.”
“I think we would do many things well together.”
“Give you one dance and you want the whole package. Pushy bastard.”
He gave a small bow, smiling, eyes shining.
A female vamp strode towards us. She was inches taller than Jean-Claude, which made her at least six feet tall. She was blond and blue-eyed, and if she’d looked any more Nordic, she’d have been a poster girl for the master race. She was wearing a violet blue body suit with strategic holes cut out. The body that showed through was broad-shouldered, muscular, and still managed to be full-breasted. Leather boots in the exact same color rode her long, muscular legs all the way up to her thighs.
“Anita Blake, this is Liv.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Jean-Claude chose the outfit.”
Liv looked at me from her considerable height as if simply being tall made her intimidating. When I didn’t flinch, she smiled. “He is the boss.”
I stared up at her. I almost asked why. I could feel her age pressing down on me like a weight. She was six hundred years old. Twice Jean-Claude’s age or more. So why wasn’t she the boss? I could feel the answer along my skin like a cool wind. Not enough power. She wasn’t a master vampire, and no amount of age would change that.
“What are you staring at?” she asked. She looked me right in the eyes and shook her head. “She really is immune to our gaze.”
“To your gaze,” I said.
She put her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t have enough juice to do me,” I said.
She took a step forward. “How about I just pick you up and squeeze some juice out of you?”
Here was where not having a gun in a holster was going to get me killed. I could get one of the knives out, but unless I was willing for her to come very close, it wouldn’t help. I could slip my hand in the purse; most people didn’t expect a gun to come out of a purse so small. Of course, if Liv caught me going for the gun, she could get to me before I could draw it. With a holster I’d have tried it. From a purse hanging from a strap, I didn’t think so. Vampires are just that fast.
“How many vampire kills do you have now, Anita?” Jean-Claude asked.
The question surprised me, and my answer surprised me more. “Over twenty legal kills.”
“How many kills altogether, ma petite?”
“I don’t know,” I said. It had to be over thirty now, but truthfully, I didn’t remember anymore. I didn’t know how many lives I’d taken. A bad sign, that.
“Liv is mine, ma petite. You may speak freely in front of her.”
I shook my head. “Never admit to murder in front of strangers, Jean-Claude. Just a rule.”
Liv looked at me. She didn’t seem to like what she saw. “So this is the Executioner.” She shook her head. “She’s a little on the small side, isn’t she?” She stalked around me like I was a horse for sale. When she was at my back, I opened the purse. By the time she came around again, I had the gun out, behind the purse, unobtrusive, though in a pinch I guess I could have shot through the purse. But why, if I didn’t have to?
Liv shook her head. “She’s pretty, but she’s not very impressive.” She stood behind Jean-Claude, running her strong hands over his shoulders, his arms. She ended with her hands around his waist, fingers kneading his body.
I was getting very tired of Liv.
“I can do things that no human can do for you, Jean-Claude.”
“You are being rude to Anita. I will not remind you of it again.” There was a cold, even threat in his voice.
Liv unwrapped herself from him and stood between us, hands on hips. “The great Jean-Claude driven to celibacy by a human. People are laughing behind your back.”
“Celibacy?” I asked.
Jean-Claude glanced at me, then sighed. “Until you give up your nunnish ways, ma petite, I am playing monk.”
My eyes widened. I couldn’t help it. I knew that Richard and I had each had one lover and chosen celibacy afterwards. But I’d never thought about Jean-Claude and what he might