A Place In This Life. Chapter Three: Until the dawn...
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter franchise. The world and all its inhabitants belong to Laurell K. Hamilton. I’ve just borrowed her world for my own, and hopefully your, entertainment. I make no money from this work and discourage any attempts to sue me as being fiscally unrewarding.
Warnings: Legal adults only. Graphic sex, violence, adult themes, vampires and lycanthropes. Read at your own risk.
Authors Note: Ever had a character keep pestering you in the back of your skull until there was nothing to do for it, but sit down and write? Damian may be quiet, but he’s bloody persistent. Enjoy.
Chapter Three: Until the dawn…
He had never liked the enforced helplessness that dawn brought each morning. He liked it even less this morning when he had to leave her sleeping in his bed and trust her care to others. It was not so much a matter of distrusting the lycanthropes that looked to his mistress, as it was frustration with his own limitations. Perhaps it was fortunate that vampires could not suffer insomnia. Dawn did not care about his worries and doubts. Dawn simply came and he died with the night.
Sunset came with as little concern for his state of mind as the dawn. He rose to find himself not alone in his basement apartment. But it was not Erica who waited for him. No, it was one of Anita’s leopards. Gregory, short and slim, blue eyed with a fall of curly blonde hair that probably won him many of his tips as a stripper. Tonight he was dressed casually, in a white tank top and red jogging shorts. He watched from his place on the couch, body relaxed, a smile on his lips, but his eyes were wary. A pile of clothing lay beside him and the scent of leather hung in the air.
“Where is Erica?” His eyes found the bed neatly made and empty. The pile of bloodied clothes was gone.
“Don’t worry. She’s fine. Last I checked she was hanging out in the living room. Anita said Jean Claude wants you fed and dressed before you see her. Looks like it’s leather night at the club.”
“I am not some fledgling to fall on her as soon as I rise.” Damian scowled as he climbed from his coffin and strode across the room to tower over the leopard. He reached down snatch up the top garment and his scowl deepened. “Such clothes. He does not expect me to take the stage at Guilty Pleasures now?”
“That’s a lot more than I wear on stage.” Damian narrowed his eyes at the blonde. “Look, I’m just the messenger. Since I’m about to let you sink fangs in me, trust me when I say I’m not trying to piss you off, Damian.” He spread his hands, showing them empty.
He glared at the wereleopard. He had assumed that he would be allowed to spend the evening with Erica. That Jean Claude would want him to stay out of sight as well. But the new costume said otherwise. He could hear the other man’s heart beating a shade too fast, could smell the nervous sweat that had broken out on his skin. Gregory was one of Anita’s lesser cats. Not just weaker, but submissive. Were he more dominant he might be a troublemaker. But he was willing food and Damian was not offering him due respect, was he?
“I normally feed at the club. Why the change?”
“I don’t know. I’m just following orders.” Gregory shrugged. “Do you want to get dressed before or after? I’ll help you with the costume if you need it, but I might not be much good after.”
“I can dress myself afterwards.” Damian let the leather vest drop back onto the pile. He contemplated the other man for a moment. Then he sat down in one of the armchairs and gestured to the leopard to come to him, meeting his eyes as he did so. Gregory didn’t fight, slipping under his influence without a ripple and came to him eagerly. He turned the blonde so that his back pressed against his chest and grabbed a handful of curls to draw his neck out in a clean line.
As he drew back to strike, an image of Erica flashed across his mind, pale and helpless in the grip of her attackers. He loosened his hold on the leopard, shifting his grip from hair to chin, cradling the man’s face and giving him a more comfortable angle. Then he struck, teeth piercing flesh cleanly. Blood welled up, sweet and coppery, rich with that extra bit of something that made lycanthropes so different from humans. He drank it down, taking the time to savor it. And to savor the rare privacy he’d been granted for it.
The blonde made small noises of pleasure, moving restlessly in his grasp. Damian fed upon him, swallowing the rich flood of life. It poured into him, warming his flesh, speeding his sluggish heart and pushing back the blood hunger. Vitality swelled within him, echoing the hum and pulse of mortality. The leopard’s moans grew quieter and his body sagged, until he was almost limp. Damian drew back, sated, licking the last few drops from his lips. With the hunger satisfied, some of his bad humor had vanished.
He rose easily with the leopard in his arms, then turned to deposit him on the chair. Gregory’s eyes were heavy lidded and he moved languidly. Not unconscious, but still fogged by vampiric mind tricks and simple blood loss. Damian fetched a clean gauze pad from his nightstand to press against the wound. He raised the man’s hand to press against it, holding it there long enough for the blonde to register what was needed.
Leaving the leopard to recover, he took up the bundle of leather that was meant to be his costume and began to dress. The leather was soft and supple, died a green so dark it was nearly black. The pants were so tight that he had to loosen the laces that ran from knee to waist along the outside of each thigh in order to slide them on. The matching vest laced up the front and was snug enough that it left a two finger wide line of skin exposed from navel to sternum. There were leather armbands to go about each upper arm, decorated with bits of silver and the teeth of some beast. There was even a thong to string about his neck and on it was hung a large fang of some kind. The last two pieces were a pair of black leather boots that laced up to just below his knees.
Damian sighed. He looked like some romance novelist’s notion of a barbarian. The cut was too modern, the dye too artificial, and the leather too perfectly cured and sewn for authenticity. But it was more comfortable than it looked. He moved in it experimentally, running through a quick series of combat exercises. Perhaps Jean Claude had chosen it for more than just appearance? He wished he could carry weaponry tonight. Last night’s assassins had been easily defeated, but the next might not be. If there was a next. Too much to hope there wouldn’t be, wasn’t it?
He felt the familiar tugging of Anita’s presence above. She was waiting for him and her patience was running thin. He glanced at the leopard who was just now levering himself up out of the chair. Gregory gave him a lazy smile and pulled the gauze away from his neck, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped.
“I’m fine.” He waved Damian toward the stairs. “I’m right behind you.”
Damian nodded and turned to climb the stairs to go greet his mistress. He could hear music, louder than Anita usually tolerated, the beat pulsing through the walls. He found her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping coffee from one of her favorite mugs. She was watching several of her leopards dancing in the living room through the open doorway. Zane and Cherry moved together in the corner closest to the stereo while Nathaniel and Caleb danced as individuals, their body language a blatant invitation to join them for the girl curled up on the couch.
Damian stopped short of Anita’s position, staring over her shoulder. The girl on the couch was Erica. She was watching the dancers, a blush on her cheeks and a shy smile on her face. She shook her head, the motion sending her loose hair sliding across her shoulders. Except for Caleb, the leopards were all dressed as casually as Gregory. Caleb was dressed much the same as he, except the leather was a deep brown and lacked any ornamentation other than the silver that Caleb wore piercing his flesh.
“What is this?” He spoke just loud enough to be heard over the music.
“I asked them to keep her distracted for a while.” Anita turned back to him with a grimace. “She’s been watching the clock all afternoon. I didn’t want her wandering downstairs until I had a chance to talk to you.”
“I would not harm her.”
“No. Of course not. But we don’t know her. And she’s human. I think it’s best to keep her out of as much of this as we can.”
“You distrust her.”
“I don’t know her. And neither do you.”
“It is not as if she attacked herself, Anita.”
“It’s for her safety and ours. She seems on the level, though her roommate doesn’t like vampires much.” Anita set her empty mug on the counter and turned to give him her full attention. “Jean Claude’s doubled security at all his businesses. You and Caleb are going in like usual. You and the other vampires will feed enough to make a show, but you’re all supposed to feed before coming to work. And you’re not to be alone with a customer, period.”
“Am I to play stalking horse, then?”
“We haven’t found much out so far. We’re stuck waiting for them to make another move. I know you’d probably like to stay here with her, but…”
“Will this not endanger whomever I feed upon tonight?” He glanced back into the living room to see Nathaniel pulling Erica from the couch by the hand. He turned her back toward the kitchen and Caleb slipped in behind her so that Damian could no longer see the girl. He frowned. “And who will protect Erica if I am not here?”
“The same people who’ve been protecting her all day. My leopards. Micah’s worked out a rotation so that Erica, Nathaniel, and any of the weaker cats who want to stay here will have protection.” She reached out to put her hand on his bare arm and a frisson of power slid across his skin. He shivered and covered her hand with his, taking a moment to bathe in the sheer physical pleasure of touching his mistress. “And don’t worry about the club. Donors are going to get security escorts out of the club.”
“I wish to speak with her before I leave.” Their conversation stopped for a moment as Gregory padded by them on his way from the living room. The blonde paid no attention to them while he extracted a bottle of water from the refrigerator and took it with him, returning to the living room to drink it. Damian hadn’t heard him over the music, though Anita had probably seen him. He caught sight of the dancers again and stiffened. Caleb’s hands were around Erica’s waist, pulling her hips back against his body, turning the dance into something frankly suggestive. They were both facing Nathaniel, who matched their rhythm. His lavender eyes found Damian’s briefly and the vampire could feel a flicker of disquiet from him.
“Damian!” Another frisson of energy flowed over his skin, almost scalding hot. He could feel her anger rising and he instinctively reached out to soothe it away. “Are you listening to me?”
“I am listening now.”
“I’m not sure I like the way you’re getting all worked up over this girl. Except for last night, you’ve never had any contact outside of the club. I’d put her somewhere else, but nobody wants a human that can’t be vouched for in their safe house. So we’re it.”
“You would forbid me to see her?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that.” Anita frowned. “You’re not a child.”
“You are not jealous. I am not important enough to you for that.” Damian drew his hand from hers.
“You’re important to me, Damian. Just not that way.” Anita sighed. It was a well-worn argument between them. “But, I’ve never seen you like this. You looked like you were ready to go in there and tear Caleb to pieces just now. For dancing with her.”
“I do not like the way he is touching her.”
“I can feel that. So can Nathaniel. It’s not like you to leak so much over us either.”
“It is I who is to be sent out as bait while your Nathaniel remains guarded.”
“Our Nathaniel’s no kind of fighter, not against preternatural bad guys. He can’t take care of himself the way you can, Damian. But believe me, this thing worries me.”
“They attempted to make it look as if I’d murdered her.”
“Yes. They did.” Anita tried to push him a little further back from the doorway and its view of the dancers. He refused to be moved and she stopped. “Jean Claude and I talked this around and around. What would happen if it had worked?”
“The authorities would have demanded my execution. Jean Claude would have believed my innocence, but the human authorities would likely have been convinced.”
“And they would have sent me in with a warrant to execute you.”
“You would not kill me unless you believed me guilty.” He was not so much a political creature as Jean Claude or Asher, but he was centuries older than they. Live long enough and you will learn. Eventually. “Refusing such orders would cause you a great deal of trouble among the humans. If you defended me, you might even find yourself imprisoned. If you or one of your colleagues executed me, the marks we share might very well kill you and Nathaniel.”
“And Jean Claude and Richard with me. At the very least, it would weaken Jean Claude significantly. If we hid you somewhere, the authorities would be suspicious. It would hurt Jean Claude’s and my public standing. The council might even demand you be turned over to prevent a scandal that could threaten vampires’ legal status.”
“A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. And they believe that I am that link.”
“Or at least the most accessible. Guilty Pleasures has always had heavier security on the dancers and Nathaniel isn’t dating anyone but me.”
“Could it be simply an attempt to damage Jean Claude’s business image?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think they chose randomly here. Neither does Jean Claude.” She turned slightly to pick up her mug, then grimaced when she found it empty. “Something bothers me about your story. How did you arrive just in time? What made you think she was in trouble?”
“I do not know.” He shrugged. “I felt that something was wrong and that it was urgent that I find her quickly. Of the strange things that have happened since I became your servant, this is one of the smallest.”
“So you think it’s got something to do with the marks?”
“I am too old to be developing new abilities on my own, Anita. You have remade me. Literally.” He reached up to touch his face, still his, yet so very different. “Or do you think it something peculiar to Erica?”
“I didn’t pick anything special up from her. I managed to touch her ‘accidentally’ a few times during the day.” Anita sounded thoughtful. “Let me know if you have any more of these feelings, OK?”
“I will.” Damian took that as a dismissal and moved toward the door.
“Oh. Caleb’s going to drive you to the club.” She put a hand on his arm again. This time there was no rush of power, only the warmth of fingers on his skin. “I don’t want any of our people out alone.”
Several possible responses wound through Damian’s mind. None of them were likely to please his mistress. He did not wish to be trapped in a car with Caleb. He would be more likely to do harm to the leopard than the leopard was to be of any help if they were attacked. Anita read his silence easily. Or perhaps he needed to shield his thoughts and feelings better.
“Don’t kill him and don’t let him get himself killed. He’s just the kind of idiot to get suckered in by a pretty face. Or get himself into a fight.”
“Perhaps he should not go tonight.”
“Do you really want to leave him here?”
“No.” Damian scowled. This time when he moved to leave, she let him.
The dancers were still dancing, bodies moving with that preternatural grace that made even the clumsiest of them into competent dancers. Caleb now held Erica to the front of his body while he gyrated to the music. Her cheeks were flushed and she moved with him, but something about her posture told Damian that he wasn’t the only one who felt the dance had become too intimate. He scowled and drew closer.
Caleb spotted the vampire before his partner did. His eyes widened slightly and he turned the girl in his arms. The motion was smooth and practiced, as if he’d done it before. He backed away from her so quickly that it gave the illusion that he’d pushed her in Damian’s direction. The girl stopped dancing, meeting Damian’s eyes with a look of surprise and perhaps some apprehension.
“Damian…” He hastened to smooth the scowl from his face and offered her a reassuring smile. He was not angry with her.
“I am glad to see you are feeling better.” He slipped an arm around her and drew her against his side. He propelled her toward the stairs. “I wished to see you before I leave.”
“You’re going to work?” They stopped at the foot of the stairs. He slipped his hands around her waist and lifted her easily onto the first tread. She gasped and reached out to steady herself against his chest. “Damian?”
He smiled again and pressed her palms against his chest. Then he leaned forward to meet her lips. She hesitated only a heartbeat before responding to him, her lips soft and pliant against his. Her fingers flexed against his skin and she sighed. He moved closer, sliding his arms around her, burying his hands in the fall of her hair and holding her body against his. Damn Jean Claude for sending him out this night. All he wished to do was to finish what they had begun so well the night before. From the quick pounding of her heart and the way she pressed herself against him, the sentiment was mutual.
He deepened the kiss and sensed a moment of hesitation in her. Then she returned his kiss with fervor, tongue meeting his and hands sliding over skin and leather. She was dressed in clothing that was obviously borrowed, but the purple of the shirt suited her. And he could feel the soft curves of her body beneath the fabric. It took more effort than he would like to admit to pull back from her.
“I must do as I am ordered, Erica. Jean Claude does not intend to let his business be disrupted.” She frowned and looked as if she wanted to object. “Do not worry for me. Security has been doubled, I am told. And of course I am well able to protect myself.”
“I know. I was just…hoping to spend some time with you.” He got the feeling that she had not said all that she meant. She looked down, studying the laces of his vest, picking at them with her fingertips. “This is a new look for you. It looks good on you, but I don’t think it’s really you.”
He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face until her gaze met his. She glanced over his shoulder then back to his face. “Is something wrong? Caleb will be leaving with me if it is he…”
“No. Or at least that’s only part…I…” She looked pained for a moment. “I just feel sort of weird. It’s not that they haven’t been nice to me. But…I’m the only normal human here, aren’t I?”
“Does that frighten you?”
“No. Not exactly. I’m just not sure how to react sometimes. They’re kind of touchy-feely, aren’t they? Is it just wereleopards or lycanthropes in general? I hate to ask, it seems rude, but…”
“It is lycanthropes in general, and it does take some getting accustomed to.” Damian lowered his voice. “I am not quite comfortable with it myself. Count yourself fortunate that Anita insists they wear some clothing. Otherwise, it is likely most of them would wear nothing at all.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I am not.” He gave her another smile. Then he sobered. “Has someone been taking liberties? Caleb…”
“I’m OK. We were just dancing.” He felt her pulse speed a little and her cheeks flushed again. “I’ve seen worse at the club.” Damian considered pressing the matter, but he decided to drop it.
“I must go.” He leaned close to kiss her once more. And again there was that hesitation. He stopped and gave her a puzzled look. She blushed. “What is wrong?”
“You’ve fed.” He raised an eyebrow in question. “You taste like blood.”
“Ah. Forgive me. I did not think.” He started to draw back further, but she clung to his leather vest tight enough that he had to stop or risk pulling her from the step.
“No. Don’t. Part of the package, right? Like dating a smoker but not as gross.” She tugged him closer and he let her. “Kiss me again so I know this is real and I’m not just dreaming it?”
Damian wondered briefly about how the taste of ashes could compare with that of another’s blood in your lover’s mouth. Then his lips touched hers and there was no more room for thought. It was not a matter of skill or technique, but something in the way she poured herself into the kiss that made his heart beat faster, his blood feel warmer. She was so full of life and youth in a way that none of his vampire lovers could match. Anita was alive, but she was always cloaked in death. There was nothing of the dead about Erica.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs made him draw back from the kiss. He glanced upward at the newcomers. Micah watched them from his vantage point several steps from the top. His second, Merle, stood at the head of the stairs, long gray and white streaked hair pulled back from his face. Micah wore an expression of amusement. Merle looked didn’t look at all amused.
“Shouldn’t you and Caleb be heading out?” Merle’s voice growled from above. Erica made a quiet exclamation of surprise and turned to look up the stairs.
“Yes. In a moment.” Damian nodded curtly at the wereleopard. He lowered his voice again. “Get some rest. Sleep. I will wake you when I return.” Even with her flushes fading, she was still pale and she seemed more fatigued than she should be after just a handful of dances.
Micah and Merle began to descend and the Nimir-Raj stopped a step above Erica and placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned questioning eyes to him.
“Go on, Damian. Erica will be safe with us.” Micah’s voice was soft and he gave a reassuring smile. Merle nodded over his leader’s shoulder.
“Caleb, you come straight back with Damian at the end of your shift. You’re needed here.” Merle raised his voice to be heard over the music. Damian heard a soft curse behind him and someone turned down the music.
“Good night, then.” Damian touched the back of Erica’s hand, then turned to leave. He felt rather than heard Caleb fall into step behind him. They passed silently out of the front door and down the drive to the wereleopard’s pick up. The truck was slightly battered beneath its freshly waxed paint job. It waited like some great black beast near the end of Anita’s drive, chrome glinting silver in the moonlight. Damian snorted at the young leopard’s ostentatious jingling of keys when he opened both doors. It was obvious the youngster was proud of his toy.
Damian climbed into the cab and was relieved to find it large enough that he had neither to duck his head nor fold his knees uncomfortably. It smelled of leopard, leather, and Caleb’s cologne. Damian wrinkled his nose and stared out of the passenger window while his companion took his place at the wheel and started the engine. The stereo came to life, the thumping music winding through the growl of the motor. Gravel crunched as they pulled out of the drive and onto the road.
Damian did his best to ignore the driver, watching the night slide by his window. He could hear the younger man shifting on his seat, the leather creaking softly. Fingers drummed on the steering wheel, out of sync with the music. Caleb was nervous; he could smell the leopard’s anxiety. Not quite fear, but hard to ignore. Damian took a grim satisfaction in the other man’s discomfort.
The drumming paused for a moment while the truck made a turn. The volume of the music swelled briefly, then was turned down lower than it had been before. Caleb cleared his throat.
“Anita wanted us to keep her out of her hair. We were just dancing.” Damian didn’t answer, he just turned his head to stare at the young man. “They said she was your pomme de sang…I didn’t know she was more than that. I thought it was sort of against the rules or something.” Brown eyes flicked toward him and back to the road.
Damian still didn’t respond. He simply watched as the leopard’s anxiety grew.
“I would have backed off if she’d said something. She was having fun.” The eyes flicked at him again. “I could smell it.”
“It is considered inappropriate to pressure your pomme de sang for sex. If it is her wish, that is different.” Damian thought his voice was neutral, but Caleb’s reaction said otherwise. Tanned fingers clutched at the steering wheel until his knuckles went white and the plastic creaked.
“OK. I got the message. Hands off.”
The youngster’s reaction took him aback. Caleb was often brash and foolhardy, not strong enough to be truly dominant, but not submissive enough to accept his place in the pard gracefully. Anita, and by inference Nathaniel, had remarked on his behavior regarding Erica. Now Caleb acted as if he’d threatened his life rather than having given him a few unpleasant looks. Anita had specifically asked him not to kill the leopard. Perhaps she wasn’t jesting.
Erica had seemed anxious. She had deflected his anger, his jealousy. Perhaps Caleb was right. He watched the leopard while he thought. He was a thousand years old. Erica was barely more than a quarter century. Young. Mortal. So was Caleb. When he had agreed to share her, he’d not thought to be put to the test so soon. Or perhaps at all. Noble gestures were much easier when you believed them only symbolic.
“I do not own her.” Caleb twitched at the sound of his voice. “She is free to make her own choices.”
“So you aren’t mad at me? We’re cool?”
“I do not like to share my women.” Damian frowned. “You might do well to remember that I have killed twice for her sake. If you wish things to remain ‘cool’ between us.”
“All right then. Cool. Yeah. Cool.” Caleb relaxed slightly. He reached out and turned the music back up and now the drumming was in time with the music. They continued the rest of the drive in comparative silence. Just as well, Damian had exhausted his store of patience for the moment.
The club was as busy as it ever was. If the crowd noticed the extra security, he did not see it. At least a dozen wererats patrolled the edges of the crowd, half of them wearing t-shirts that identified them as security, half of them dressed as if they were patrons. He didn’t need them pointed out to him; he knew many of Raphael’s people by sight.
Caleb slipped into the crowd moments after they entered, leaving Damian to his own devices. He was more than content with that. He had no wish to observe more of Caleb’s dancing tonight. He took a moment to watch the crowd before entering it himself. It was nearly time for the show and he must choose his next meal…
Micah’s hand remained on her shoulder until the front door closed, almost as if he thought she would try to follow them outside. The older man, Merle, brushed past them and headed through the living room into the kitchen.
“You seem to have made quite an impression on Damian.” He squeezed her shoulder slightly then moved around her to descend the last few steps. He looked up at her with his odd cat-like eyes. She had the sense she was being measured somehow. But against what kind of yardstick, she couldn’t begin to guess. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask Nathaniel or me. Or if you have questions.”
“You wouldn’t know how long I’ll need to stay here, would you? If it’s more than a day or two, I’d really like to get some things. Clothes. Stuff like that.”
“No way of knowing at this point.” He shook his head. “We don’t know who was behind the attack on you, or why.”
“Would…Should I have gone to the police?” Funny how it had never occurred to her until that moment. She’d let Cherry talk her out of making calls for herself and she hadn’t been left alone since breakfast. Maybe they didn’t want her calling the police? “I don’t want to make trouble for Damian.” Nervous tension sprang up where it hadn’t been just moments before.
“Anita works with the police. She’s actually a federal marshal. If she thought it would help, she’d file a report.” He smiled at her reassuringly and leaned against the wall at the foot of the stairs. “Since someone cleaned up the evidence, all we have is your word, Damian’s, and the bite on your neck.”
“I’m not making it up.” Erica found herself pressing a hand to her neck, covering the fang marks and the bruise that had bloomed around them.
“We know that.” Micah glanced over his shoulder at the others who were now picking through the shelf of DVD’s and arguing amiably over which movie to watch. “If you were lying, we’d be able to tell. And we trust Damian’s word.”
“You can smell lies?”
“Not exactly.” His smile widened a little. “But the police aren’t as good at telling truth from fiction. Or they may decide Damian tampered with your memories.”
“Micah. Can I talk to you in the kitchen?” Anita’s voice carried from where she stood framed in the doorway.
“Be right there.” He called over his shoulder, and then straightened. He paused and for a moment, his expression was serious. “If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to come to me.” He seemed to be waiting for a response, though she could see Anita waiting for him, arms crossed and posture stiff.
“OK.” She nodded nervously, wondering exactly what sort of problems he meant. “OK. Thanks, Micah.”
He nodded and the smile returned. Then he turned and walked away toward the kitchen. By now the others had come to an agreement and were settling on the couch. When she stepped back to the floor, the blonde one, Gregory, patted the empty space between himself and Nathaniel.
“Come join us.” He gave a smile and a lazy wink, scooting over slightly to make more room.
“You just haven’t experienced An American Werewolf in London until you’ve watched it with a bunch of lycanthropes.” Zane grinned at her from where he sat on the floor with his back pressed against Nathaniel’s legs. Cherry was curled up by Gregory’s feet, one arm resting across his lap and her head pillowed by the armrest.
The tableau seemed to sum up the strange day she had. She’d never known people to touch each other so much. In the last ten hours or so, she’d been touched at least that many times in ways she’d have normally considered a pass. And she might have been offended, except she’d seen them touch each other the same way. Even Anita had touched her several times and she had the distinct feeling the woman didn’t really want her in her home.
“We won’t bite.” Nathaniel gave her a playful smile and stretched his arm along the back of the sofa.
“Yeah. That’s Damian’s job.” Cherry added. “You should take them up on it. How often do you get to cuddle with two of the hottest strippers in town?”
Erica blushed. She was tempted to take one of the chairs, but they seemed to be going out of their way to make her feel welcome. And none of them made her as nervous as Caleb had. Any time he’d been in the room, it seemed she could feel his eyes following her. He had kept his distance for most of the day. But it was her opinion he’d asked for after donning his new costume.
She’d stammered and blushed, pretty much making a fool of herself. The leather suited him, fit him like a glove and went perfectly with the piercings. She had tried to tell herself that she was imagining the interest in those dark eyes. Tried to tell herself that he was just showing off and it wouldn’t have mattered who she was, she was just new. She tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach each time he caught her looking at him.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want.” She’d hesitated too long and Nathaniel’s smile had faded to a faint frown.
“Sorry, I was just thinking.” Erica gave herself a mental shake and crossed the room to slide into the space they’d left for her. “You guys actually watch those movies?”
“Sure do.” Gregory shifted slightly, letting his head fall back to rest against Nathaniel’s forearm. This close, she could see the neat puncture wounds on his neck. There was none of the bruising that she’d seen in the mirror the last time she’d peeked. He let his hand drop to her knee and gave it a quick squeeze. Then Zane hit the remote and the movie began.
It was warm and comfortable, wedged in the middle as she was. The heat, combined with her continued fatigue from the blood loss made her sluggish, drowsy. She found herself leaning her head against Nathaniel’s shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind. Their conversation and laughter rose and fell around her, but she didn’t really hear much of it.
Events of the day spooled through her thoughts. She half wished she could go home long enough to sort everything out. She’d spent some time alone with Nathaniel talking in the kitchen late that afternoon. He’d tried to explain his relationship with Anita and Micah when she’d looked puzzled by the way the three interacted. And that had led to explanations about Damian and the Master of the City. And hints about other men.
It had left her bemused and maybe even more confused. The dancing hadn’t helped any. Caleb’s touching had gone way past friendly. Why hadn’t she stopped him?
She’d half expected Damian to do something violent. For a split second, she thought she’d seen anger on his face, but then he’d been nothing but concerned and very…affectionate. Still, she’d found herself shielding Caleb from him. Why?
She yawned and Nathaniel murmured something quietly to her that she didn’t catch. Her eyelids felt heavy and the images on the screen seemed to blur into each other. She heard them talking softly over the movie, knew it was about her but couldn’t muster the energy to follow the meaning. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have. She woke to find her head pillowed on Nathaniel’s lap and her legs curled over Gregory’s. When had that happened?
“You slept through at least half the movie.” Nathaniel smiled down at her while she blinked blearily at him. “That’s OK. We’ll watch it again sometime.”
“You mean it will give you another excuse to watch it again.” Zane accused, craning his neck to look up at Nathaniel.
“Didn’t hear you complaining.” Gregory snorted.
“I think maybe it’s time to get my patient to bed.” Cherry uncurled herself, standing to her full height and somehow making that abrupt change to her nurse persona. It was as if she’d donned a set of scrubs over her tank top and tiny shorts. “Come on guys. Chop. Chop.”
“I’m OK. Really.” Erica protested. But Zane scooped her up from the couch with a chuckle. “Don’t complain. Cherry won’t let me play macho like this for her.” Cherry gave a short laugh in response. He gave Erica a little shake to shift her in his arms, and then carried her easily through the house with Cherry following right behind.
They descended into the basement, Zane refusing to set her on her feet until he stood next to bed, laughing good-naturedly at her protests. Then Cherry shooed him off to find them pajamas to wear while she helped Erica find something of Damian’s to wear.
“I really don’t need all this, Cherry. I’m fine.”
“We’ll stay with you until Damian gets in. Don’t argue. It won’t do you any good.” Cherry pulled out a handful of black silk and made an approving noise. It looked like the top to the pajama bottoms she’d seen Damian wear last night. “Here, put this on unless you want Zane to catch you naked.”
“He wouldn’t, would he?”
“He’s a guy. Of course he would.” Cherry gave her a grin. “You’re probably the only body in the house he hasn’t seen by now.”
A thought occurred to her as she stripped out of her borrowed clothes. Cherry stopped her briefly to tsk over the bruise on her neck. She looked up at the blonde and pondered.
“Who undressed me last night?”
“Nathaniel, I think.”
“Not you?” She blushed, thinking of him peeling her down to her skin. “Oh god…”
“Nope.” Cherry backed off to let her finish changing. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Nathaniel was a perfect gentleman. And you were more than half dead.”
Just then, Zane made his reappearance, stepping silently down from the stairway. Erica hurriedly pulled the too-large silk shirt around her, turning her back to him. He’d changed into a pair of leopard print bikini briefs so brief the effect was comical.
“Where did you get those?” Cherry’s voice held barely restrained laughter.
“Been saving them for a special occasion.” His voice drew closer while Erica hurriedly buttoned herself up. “Like them?”
“There should be a law…” Erica turned to see Cherry sliding out of her shorts so that she wore only a tank top and panties. “Leopard print?”
“What else?” He flopped down onto the bed with an unrepentant grin. “I get the middle.”
There was a brief, but amiable argument over who got the center of the bed. Strangely, while Cherry won the argument, it was Erica who wound up in the middle. Cherry’s reasoning was too convoluted for Erica to follow. Or maybe she was just too sleepy to make sense of it. As soon as she crawled into bed, Zane pulled her close to pillow her head on his shoulder while Cherry snuggled up to her back. Her arm reached across Erica’s waist to rest on Zane’s stomach.
It should have been awkward and uncomfortable, lying there tucked between the two lovers. Between her nurse and her practically naked boyfriend. But it was so warm, and there was something comforting about the steady thump-thump of Zane’s heart beating beneath her ear. Cherry’s warmth at her back. Of not being alone in the dark…
When she woke again, the wereleopards were gone. Someone was calling her name softly and the room was no longer dark but dimly lit by candles on the bedside tables. Gentle fingers touched her face, tracing the shape of her cheek and trailing downward to press softly against the bruise on her neck.
“Erica. Erica…Wake my lovely.” She opened her eyes.
Damian knelt over her, his skin shining in the candlelight, faintly gilded by the golden glow. His hair spilled in a crimson sheet over one shoulder and his eyes sparkled, their emerald depths liquid and fathomless. For a moment, she could look at nothing but those eyes, then he blinked and dropped his gaze for a moment. When he looked back, his eyes were still beautiful, but no longer compelling.
“Damian…” The word came out breathless and her eyes began to see more of him. Much more. Her gaze slipped down over his smoothly muscled shoulders and chest. Down further across his abs, following the sparse path of crimson hair that led lower. She drew in a sharp breath, taking in at last that he wore nothing at all. He was already half erect, and she blushed and looked up to meet his eyes again. “I…How was work?”
It sounded horribly lame. Mundane. But her brain seemed to have stopped working altogether. Damian touched her face again.
“Uneventful. But I would not expect another attack so soon. And certainly not in the same place.” The words were matter of fact, but the tone was not. His voice was soft and deep, sensual. His fingertips brushed her neck above the collar of the shirt, his shirt, and she shivered. “How do you feel?”
“Better. Now that I’ve had some rest.” His fingers followed the edge of the silk until it came to the vee that dipped low between her breasts. He slipped the top button free of its hole and parted the fabric to expose more of her skin to his touch. She exhaled in a long shuddering breath, feeling his touch ghosting over the swells of her breasts, dipping beneath them to trace the curves below.
“I wish to make love to you. I want to bury myself in your sweet warmth and drown myself in your kisses until the dawn steals the breath from me.” He leaned down until his hair spilled around his face and his lips hovered above hers. She reached up to touch his skin, found it warm and smooth and nearly flawless. “Only say yes and I am yours.” He kissed her then, the touch of his lips so soft and gentle it seemed dreamlike.
When he drew back she spoke. She said the only thing she could have said. The only word that came to mind and that one word filled her thoughts.
“Yes.”
.
Warnings: Legal adults only. Graphic sex, violence, adult themes, vampires and lycanthropes. Read at your own risk.
Authors Note: Ever had a character keep pestering you in the back of your skull until there was nothing to do for it, but sit down and write? Damian may be quiet, but he’s bloody persistent. Enjoy.
Chapter Three: Until the dawn…
He had never liked the enforced helplessness that dawn brought each morning. He liked it even less this morning when he had to leave her sleeping in his bed and trust her care to others. It was not so much a matter of distrusting the lycanthropes that looked to his mistress, as it was frustration with his own limitations. Perhaps it was fortunate that vampires could not suffer insomnia. Dawn did not care about his worries and doubts. Dawn simply came and he died with the night.
Sunset came with as little concern for his state of mind as the dawn. He rose to find himself not alone in his basement apartment. But it was not Erica who waited for him. No, it was one of Anita’s leopards. Gregory, short and slim, blue eyed with a fall of curly blonde hair that probably won him many of his tips as a stripper. Tonight he was dressed casually, in a white tank top and red jogging shorts. He watched from his place on the couch, body relaxed, a smile on his lips, but his eyes were wary. A pile of clothing lay beside him and the scent of leather hung in the air.
“Where is Erica?” His eyes found the bed neatly made and empty. The pile of bloodied clothes was gone.
“Don’t worry. She’s fine. Last I checked she was hanging out in the living room. Anita said Jean Claude wants you fed and dressed before you see her. Looks like it’s leather night at the club.”
“I am not some fledgling to fall on her as soon as I rise.” Damian scowled as he climbed from his coffin and strode across the room to tower over the leopard. He reached down snatch up the top garment and his scowl deepened. “Such clothes. He does not expect me to take the stage at Guilty Pleasures now?”
“That’s a lot more than I wear on stage.” Damian narrowed his eyes at the blonde. “Look, I’m just the messenger. Since I’m about to let you sink fangs in me, trust me when I say I’m not trying to piss you off, Damian.” He spread his hands, showing them empty.
He glared at the wereleopard. He had assumed that he would be allowed to spend the evening with Erica. That Jean Claude would want him to stay out of sight as well. But the new costume said otherwise. He could hear the other man’s heart beating a shade too fast, could smell the nervous sweat that had broken out on his skin. Gregory was one of Anita’s lesser cats. Not just weaker, but submissive. Were he more dominant he might be a troublemaker. But he was willing food and Damian was not offering him due respect, was he?
“I normally feed at the club. Why the change?”
“I don’t know. I’m just following orders.” Gregory shrugged. “Do you want to get dressed before or after? I’ll help you with the costume if you need it, but I might not be much good after.”
“I can dress myself afterwards.” Damian let the leather vest drop back onto the pile. He contemplated the other man for a moment. Then he sat down in one of the armchairs and gestured to the leopard to come to him, meeting his eyes as he did so. Gregory didn’t fight, slipping under his influence without a ripple and came to him eagerly. He turned the blonde so that his back pressed against his chest and grabbed a handful of curls to draw his neck out in a clean line.
As he drew back to strike, an image of Erica flashed across his mind, pale and helpless in the grip of her attackers. He loosened his hold on the leopard, shifting his grip from hair to chin, cradling the man’s face and giving him a more comfortable angle. Then he struck, teeth piercing flesh cleanly. Blood welled up, sweet and coppery, rich with that extra bit of something that made lycanthropes so different from humans. He drank it down, taking the time to savor it. And to savor the rare privacy he’d been granted for it.
The blonde made small noises of pleasure, moving restlessly in his grasp. Damian fed upon him, swallowing the rich flood of life. It poured into him, warming his flesh, speeding his sluggish heart and pushing back the blood hunger. Vitality swelled within him, echoing the hum and pulse of mortality. The leopard’s moans grew quieter and his body sagged, until he was almost limp. Damian drew back, sated, licking the last few drops from his lips. With the hunger satisfied, some of his bad humor had vanished.
He rose easily with the leopard in his arms, then turned to deposit him on the chair. Gregory’s eyes were heavy lidded and he moved languidly. Not unconscious, but still fogged by vampiric mind tricks and simple blood loss. Damian fetched a clean gauze pad from his nightstand to press against the wound. He raised the man’s hand to press against it, holding it there long enough for the blonde to register what was needed.
Leaving the leopard to recover, he took up the bundle of leather that was meant to be his costume and began to dress. The leather was soft and supple, died a green so dark it was nearly black. The pants were so tight that he had to loosen the laces that ran from knee to waist along the outside of each thigh in order to slide them on. The matching vest laced up the front and was snug enough that it left a two finger wide line of skin exposed from navel to sternum. There were leather armbands to go about each upper arm, decorated with bits of silver and the teeth of some beast. There was even a thong to string about his neck and on it was hung a large fang of some kind. The last two pieces were a pair of black leather boots that laced up to just below his knees.
Damian sighed. He looked like some romance novelist’s notion of a barbarian. The cut was too modern, the dye too artificial, and the leather too perfectly cured and sewn for authenticity. But it was more comfortable than it looked. He moved in it experimentally, running through a quick series of combat exercises. Perhaps Jean Claude had chosen it for more than just appearance? He wished he could carry weaponry tonight. Last night’s assassins had been easily defeated, but the next might not be. If there was a next. Too much to hope there wouldn’t be, wasn’t it?
He felt the familiar tugging of Anita’s presence above. She was waiting for him and her patience was running thin. He glanced at the leopard who was just now levering himself up out of the chair. Gregory gave him a lazy smile and pulled the gauze away from his neck, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped.
“I’m fine.” He waved Damian toward the stairs. “I’m right behind you.”
Damian nodded and turned to climb the stairs to go greet his mistress. He could hear music, louder than Anita usually tolerated, the beat pulsing through the walls. He found her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping coffee from one of her favorite mugs. She was watching several of her leopards dancing in the living room through the open doorway. Zane and Cherry moved together in the corner closest to the stereo while Nathaniel and Caleb danced as individuals, their body language a blatant invitation to join them for the girl curled up on the couch.
Damian stopped short of Anita’s position, staring over her shoulder. The girl on the couch was Erica. She was watching the dancers, a blush on her cheeks and a shy smile on her face. She shook her head, the motion sending her loose hair sliding across her shoulders. Except for Caleb, the leopards were all dressed as casually as Gregory. Caleb was dressed much the same as he, except the leather was a deep brown and lacked any ornamentation other than the silver that Caleb wore piercing his flesh.
“What is this?” He spoke just loud enough to be heard over the music.
“I asked them to keep her distracted for a while.” Anita turned back to him with a grimace. “She’s been watching the clock all afternoon. I didn’t want her wandering downstairs until I had a chance to talk to you.”
“I would not harm her.”
“No. Of course not. But we don’t know her. And she’s human. I think it’s best to keep her out of as much of this as we can.”
“You distrust her.”
“I don’t know her. And neither do you.”
“It is not as if she attacked herself, Anita.”
“It’s for her safety and ours. She seems on the level, though her roommate doesn’t like vampires much.” Anita set her empty mug on the counter and turned to give him her full attention. “Jean Claude’s doubled security at all his businesses. You and Caleb are going in like usual. You and the other vampires will feed enough to make a show, but you’re all supposed to feed before coming to work. And you’re not to be alone with a customer, period.”
“Am I to play stalking horse, then?”
“We haven’t found much out so far. We’re stuck waiting for them to make another move. I know you’d probably like to stay here with her, but…”
“Will this not endanger whomever I feed upon tonight?” He glanced back into the living room to see Nathaniel pulling Erica from the couch by the hand. He turned her back toward the kitchen and Caleb slipped in behind her so that Damian could no longer see the girl. He frowned. “And who will protect Erica if I am not here?”
“The same people who’ve been protecting her all day. My leopards. Micah’s worked out a rotation so that Erica, Nathaniel, and any of the weaker cats who want to stay here will have protection.” She reached out to put her hand on his bare arm and a frisson of power slid across his skin. He shivered and covered her hand with his, taking a moment to bathe in the sheer physical pleasure of touching his mistress. “And don’t worry about the club. Donors are going to get security escorts out of the club.”
“I wish to speak with her before I leave.” Their conversation stopped for a moment as Gregory padded by them on his way from the living room. The blonde paid no attention to them while he extracted a bottle of water from the refrigerator and took it with him, returning to the living room to drink it. Damian hadn’t heard him over the music, though Anita had probably seen him. He caught sight of the dancers again and stiffened. Caleb’s hands were around Erica’s waist, pulling her hips back against his body, turning the dance into something frankly suggestive. They were both facing Nathaniel, who matched their rhythm. His lavender eyes found Damian’s briefly and the vampire could feel a flicker of disquiet from him.
“Damian!” Another frisson of energy flowed over his skin, almost scalding hot. He could feel her anger rising and he instinctively reached out to soothe it away. “Are you listening to me?”
“I am listening now.”
“I’m not sure I like the way you’re getting all worked up over this girl. Except for last night, you’ve never had any contact outside of the club. I’d put her somewhere else, but nobody wants a human that can’t be vouched for in their safe house. So we’re it.”
“You would forbid me to see her?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that.” Anita frowned. “You’re not a child.”
“You are not jealous. I am not important enough to you for that.” Damian drew his hand from hers.
“You’re important to me, Damian. Just not that way.” Anita sighed. It was a well-worn argument between them. “But, I’ve never seen you like this. You looked like you were ready to go in there and tear Caleb to pieces just now. For dancing with her.”
“I do not like the way he is touching her.”
“I can feel that. So can Nathaniel. It’s not like you to leak so much over us either.”
“It is I who is to be sent out as bait while your Nathaniel remains guarded.”
“Our Nathaniel’s no kind of fighter, not against preternatural bad guys. He can’t take care of himself the way you can, Damian. But believe me, this thing worries me.”
“They attempted to make it look as if I’d murdered her.”
“Yes. They did.” Anita tried to push him a little further back from the doorway and its view of the dancers. He refused to be moved and she stopped. “Jean Claude and I talked this around and around. What would happen if it had worked?”
“The authorities would have demanded my execution. Jean Claude would have believed my innocence, but the human authorities would likely have been convinced.”
“And they would have sent me in with a warrant to execute you.”
“You would not kill me unless you believed me guilty.” He was not so much a political creature as Jean Claude or Asher, but he was centuries older than they. Live long enough and you will learn. Eventually. “Refusing such orders would cause you a great deal of trouble among the humans. If you defended me, you might even find yourself imprisoned. If you or one of your colleagues executed me, the marks we share might very well kill you and Nathaniel.”
“And Jean Claude and Richard with me. At the very least, it would weaken Jean Claude significantly. If we hid you somewhere, the authorities would be suspicious. It would hurt Jean Claude’s and my public standing. The council might even demand you be turned over to prevent a scandal that could threaten vampires’ legal status.”
“A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. And they believe that I am that link.”
“Or at least the most accessible. Guilty Pleasures has always had heavier security on the dancers and Nathaniel isn’t dating anyone but me.”
“Could it be simply an attempt to damage Jean Claude’s business image?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think they chose randomly here. Neither does Jean Claude.” She turned slightly to pick up her mug, then grimaced when she found it empty. “Something bothers me about your story. How did you arrive just in time? What made you think she was in trouble?”
“I do not know.” He shrugged. “I felt that something was wrong and that it was urgent that I find her quickly. Of the strange things that have happened since I became your servant, this is one of the smallest.”
“So you think it’s got something to do with the marks?”
“I am too old to be developing new abilities on my own, Anita. You have remade me. Literally.” He reached up to touch his face, still his, yet so very different. “Or do you think it something peculiar to Erica?”
“I didn’t pick anything special up from her. I managed to touch her ‘accidentally’ a few times during the day.” Anita sounded thoughtful. “Let me know if you have any more of these feelings, OK?”
“I will.” Damian took that as a dismissal and moved toward the door.
“Oh. Caleb’s going to drive you to the club.” She put a hand on his arm again. This time there was no rush of power, only the warmth of fingers on his skin. “I don’t want any of our people out alone.”
Several possible responses wound through Damian’s mind. None of them were likely to please his mistress. He did not wish to be trapped in a car with Caleb. He would be more likely to do harm to the leopard than the leopard was to be of any help if they were attacked. Anita read his silence easily. Or perhaps he needed to shield his thoughts and feelings better.
“Don’t kill him and don’t let him get himself killed. He’s just the kind of idiot to get suckered in by a pretty face. Or get himself into a fight.”
“Perhaps he should not go tonight.”
“Do you really want to leave him here?”
“No.” Damian scowled. This time when he moved to leave, she let him.
The dancers were still dancing, bodies moving with that preternatural grace that made even the clumsiest of them into competent dancers. Caleb now held Erica to the front of his body while he gyrated to the music. Her cheeks were flushed and she moved with him, but something about her posture told Damian that he wasn’t the only one who felt the dance had become too intimate. He scowled and drew closer.
Caleb spotted the vampire before his partner did. His eyes widened slightly and he turned the girl in his arms. The motion was smooth and practiced, as if he’d done it before. He backed away from her so quickly that it gave the illusion that he’d pushed her in Damian’s direction. The girl stopped dancing, meeting Damian’s eyes with a look of surprise and perhaps some apprehension.
“Damian…” He hastened to smooth the scowl from his face and offered her a reassuring smile. He was not angry with her.
“I am glad to see you are feeling better.” He slipped an arm around her and drew her against his side. He propelled her toward the stairs. “I wished to see you before I leave.”
“You’re going to work?” They stopped at the foot of the stairs. He slipped his hands around her waist and lifted her easily onto the first tread. She gasped and reached out to steady herself against his chest. “Damian?”
He smiled again and pressed her palms against his chest. Then he leaned forward to meet her lips. She hesitated only a heartbeat before responding to him, her lips soft and pliant against his. Her fingers flexed against his skin and she sighed. He moved closer, sliding his arms around her, burying his hands in the fall of her hair and holding her body against his. Damn Jean Claude for sending him out this night. All he wished to do was to finish what they had begun so well the night before. From the quick pounding of her heart and the way she pressed herself against him, the sentiment was mutual.
He deepened the kiss and sensed a moment of hesitation in her. Then she returned his kiss with fervor, tongue meeting his and hands sliding over skin and leather. She was dressed in clothing that was obviously borrowed, but the purple of the shirt suited her. And he could feel the soft curves of her body beneath the fabric. It took more effort than he would like to admit to pull back from her.
“I must do as I am ordered, Erica. Jean Claude does not intend to let his business be disrupted.” She frowned and looked as if she wanted to object. “Do not worry for me. Security has been doubled, I am told. And of course I am well able to protect myself.”
“I know. I was just…hoping to spend some time with you.” He got the feeling that she had not said all that she meant. She looked down, studying the laces of his vest, picking at them with her fingertips. “This is a new look for you. It looks good on you, but I don’t think it’s really you.”
He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face until her gaze met his. She glanced over his shoulder then back to his face. “Is something wrong? Caleb will be leaving with me if it is he…”
“No. Or at least that’s only part…I…” She looked pained for a moment. “I just feel sort of weird. It’s not that they haven’t been nice to me. But…I’m the only normal human here, aren’t I?”
“Does that frighten you?”
“No. Not exactly. I’m just not sure how to react sometimes. They’re kind of touchy-feely, aren’t they? Is it just wereleopards or lycanthropes in general? I hate to ask, it seems rude, but…”
“It is lycanthropes in general, and it does take some getting accustomed to.” Damian lowered his voice. “I am not quite comfortable with it myself. Count yourself fortunate that Anita insists they wear some clothing. Otherwise, it is likely most of them would wear nothing at all.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I am not.” He gave her another smile. Then he sobered. “Has someone been taking liberties? Caleb…”
“I’m OK. We were just dancing.” He felt her pulse speed a little and her cheeks flushed again. “I’ve seen worse at the club.” Damian considered pressing the matter, but he decided to drop it.
“I must go.” He leaned close to kiss her once more. And again there was that hesitation. He stopped and gave her a puzzled look. She blushed. “What is wrong?”
“You’ve fed.” He raised an eyebrow in question. “You taste like blood.”
“Ah. Forgive me. I did not think.” He started to draw back further, but she clung to his leather vest tight enough that he had to stop or risk pulling her from the step.
“No. Don’t. Part of the package, right? Like dating a smoker but not as gross.” She tugged him closer and he let her. “Kiss me again so I know this is real and I’m not just dreaming it?”
Damian wondered briefly about how the taste of ashes could compare with that of another’s blood in your lover’s mouth. Then his lips touched hers and there was no more room for thought. It was not a matter of skill or technique, but something in the way she poured herself into the kiss that made his heart beat faster, his blood feel warmer. She was so full of life and youth in a way that none of his vampire lovers could match. Anita was alive, but she was always cloaked in death. There was nothing of the dead about Erica.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs made him draw back from the kiss. He glanced upward at the newcomers. Micah watched them from his vantage point several steps from the top. His second, Merle, stood at the head of the stairs, long gray and white streaked hair pulled back from his face. Micah wore an expression of amusement. Merle looked didn’t look at all amused.
“Shouldn’t you and Caleb be heading out?” Merle’s voice growled from above. Erica made a quiet exclamation of surprise and turned to look up the stairs.
“Yes. In a moment.” Damian nodded curtly at the wereleopard. He lowered his voice again. “Get some rest. Sleep. I will wake you when I return.” Even with her flushes fading, she was still pale and she seemed more fatigued than she should be after just a handful of dances.
Micah and Merle began to descend and the Nimir-Raj stopped a step above Erica and placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned questioning eyes to him.
“Go on, Damian. Erica will be safe with us.” Micah’s voice was soft and he gave a reassuring smile. Merle nodded over his leader’s shoulder.
“Caleb, you come straight back with Damian at the end of your shift. You’re needed here.” Merle raised his voice to be heard over the music. Damian heard a soft curse behind him and someone turned down the music.
“Good night, then.” Damian touched the back of Erica’s hand, then turned to leave. He felt rather than heard Caleb fall into step behind him. They passed silently out of the front door and down the drive to the wereleopard’s pick up. The truck was slightly battered beneath its freshly waxed paint job. It waited like some great black beast near the end of Anita’s drive, chrome glinting silver in the moonlight. Damian snorted at the young leopard’s ostentatious jingling of keys when he opened both doors. It was obvious the youngster was proud of his toy.
Damian climbed into the cab and was relieved to find it large enough that he had neither to duck his head nor fold his knees uncomfortably. It smelled of leopard, leather, and Caleb’s cologne. Damian wrinkled his nose and stared out of the passenger window while his companion took his place at the wheel and started the engine. The stereo came to life, the thumping music winding through the growl of the motor. Gravel crunched as they pulled out of the drive and onto the road.
Damian did his best to ignore the driver, watching the night slide by his window. He could hear the younger man shifting on his seat, the leather creaking softly. Fingers drummed on the steering wheel, out of sync with the music. Caleb was nervous; he could smell the leopard’s anxiety. Not quite fear, but hard to ignore. Damian took a grim satisfaction in the other man’s discomfort.
The drumming paused for a moment while the truck made a turn. The volume of the music swelled briefly, then was turned down lower than it had been before. Caleb cleared his throat.
“Anita wanted us to keep her out of her hair. We were just dancing.” Damian didn’t answer, he just turned his head to stare at the young man. “They said she was your pomme de sang…I didn’t know she was more than that. I thought it was sort of against the rules or something.” Brown eyes flicked toward him and back to the road.
Damian still didn’t respond. He simply watched as the leopard’s anxiety grew.
“I would have backed off if she’d said something. She was having fun.” The eyes flicked at him again. “I could smell it.”
“It is considered inappropriate to pressure your pomme de sang for sex. If it is her wish, that is different.” Damian thought his voice was neutral, but Caleb’s reaction said otherwise. Tanned fingers clutched at the steering wheel until his knuckles went white and the plastic creaked.
“OK. I got the message. Hands off.”
The youngster’s reaction took him aback. Caleb was often brash and foolhardy, not strong enough to be truly dominant, but not submissive enough to accept his place in the pard gracefully. Anita, and by inference Nathaniel, had remarked on his behavior regarding Erica. Now Caleb acted as if he’d threatened his life rather than having given him a few unpleasant looks. Anita had specifically asked him not to kill the leopard. Perhaps she wasn’t jesting.
Erica had seemed anxious. She had deflected his anger, his jealousy. Perhaps Caleb was right. He watched the leopard while he thought. He was a thousand years old. Erica was barely more than a quarter century. Young. Mortal. So was Caleb. When he had agreed to share her, he’d not thought to be put to the test so soon. Or perhaps at all. Noble gestures were much easier when you believed them only symbolic.
“I do not own her.” Caleb twitched at the sound of his voice. “She is free to make her own choices.”
“So you aren’t mad at me? We’re cool?”
“I do not like to share my women.” Damian frowned. “You might do well to remember that I have killed twice for her sake. If you wish things to remain ‘cool’ between us.”
“All right then. Cool. Yeah. Cool.” Caleb relaxed slightly. He reached out and turned the music back up and now the drumming was in time with the music. They continued the rest of the drive in comparative silence. Just as well, Damian had exhausted his store of patience for the moment.
The club was as busy as it ever was. If the crowd noticed the extra security, he did not see it. At least a dozen wererats patrolled the edges of the crowd, half of them wearing t-shirts that identified them as security, half of them dressed as if they were patrons. He didn’t need them pointed out to him; he knew many of Raphael’s people by sight.
Caleb slipped into the crowd moments after they entered, leaving Damian to his own devices. He was more than content with that. He had no wish to observe more of Caleb’s dancing tonight. He took a moment to watch the crowd before entering it himself. It was nearly time for the show and he must choose his next meal…
Micah’s hand remained on her shoulder until the front door closed, almost as if he thought she would try to follow them outside. The older man, Merle, brushed past them and headed through the living room into the kitchen.
“You seem to have made quite an impression on Damian.” He squeezed her shoulder slightly then moved around her to descend the last few steps. He looked up at her with his odd cat-like eyes. She had the sense she was being measured somehow. But against what kind of yardstick, she couldn’t begin to guess. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask Nathaniel or me. Or if you have questions.”
“You wouldn’t know how long I’ll need to stay here, would you? If it’s more than a day or two, I’d really like to get some things. Clothes. Stuff like that.”
“No way of knowing at this point.” He shook his head. “We don’t know who was behind the attack on you, or why.”
“Would…Should I have gone to the police?” Funny how it had never occurred to her until that moment. She’d let Cherry talk her out of making calls for herself and she hadn’t been left alone since breakfast. Maybe they didn’t want her calling the police? “I don’t want to make trouble for Damian.” Nervous tension sprang up where it hadn’t been just moments before.
“Anita works with the police. She’s actually a federal marshal. If she thought it would help, she’d file a report.” He smiled at her reassuringly and leaned against the wall at the foot of the stairs. “Since someone cleaned up the evidence, all we have is your word, Damian’s, and the bite on your neck.”
“I’m not making it up.” Erica found herself pressing a hand to her neck, covering the fang marks and the bruise that had bloomed around them.
“We know that.” Micah glanced over his shoulder at the others who were now picking through the shelf of DVD’s and arguing amiably over which movie to watch. “If you were lying, we’d be able to tell. And we trust Damian’s word.”
“You can smell lies?”
“Not exactly.” His smile widened a little. “But the police aren’t as good at telling truth from fiction. Or they may decide Damian tampered with your memories.”
“Micah. Can I talk to you in the kitchen?” Anita’s voice carried from where she stood framed in the doorway.
“Be right there.” He called over his shoulder, and then straightened. He paused and for a moment, his expression was serious. “If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to come to me.” He seemed to be waiting for a response, though she could see Anita waiting for him, arms crossed and posture stiff.
“OK.” She nodded nervously, wondering exactly what sort of problems he meant. “OK. Thanks, Micah.”
He nodded and the smile returned. Then he turned and walked away toward the kitchen. By now the others had come to an agreement and were settling on the couch. When she stepped back to the floor, the blonde one, Gregory, patted the empty space between himself and Nathaniel.
“Come join us.” He gave a smile and a lazy wink, scooting over slightly to make more room.
“You just haven’t experienced An American Werewolf in London until you’ve watched it with a bunch of lycanthropes.” Zane grinned at her from where he sat on the floor with his back pressed against Nathaniel’s legs. Cherry was curled up by Gregory’s feet, one arm resting across his lap and her head pillowed by the armrest.
The tableau seemed to sum up the strange day she had. She’d never known people to touch each other so much. In the last ten hours or so, she’d been touched at least that many times in ways she’d have normally considered a pass. And she might have been offended, except she’d seen them touch each other the same way. Even Anita had touched her several times and she had the distinct feeling the woman didn’t really want her in her home.
“We won’t bite.” Nathaniel gave her a playful smile and stretched his arm along the back of the sofa.
“Yeah. That’s Damian’s job.” Cherry added. “You should take them up on it. How often do you get to cuddle with two of the hottest strippers in town?”
Erica blushed. She was tempted to take one of the chairs, but they seemed to be going out of their way to make her feel welcome. And none of them made her as nervous as Caleb had. Any time he’d been in the room, it seemed she could feel his eyes following her. He had kept his distance for most of the day. But it was her opinion he’d asked for after donning his new costume.
She’d stammered and blushed, pretty much making a fool of herself. The leather suited him, fit him like a glove and went perfectly with the piercings. She had tried to tell herself that she was imagining the interest in those dark eyes. Tried to tell herself that he was just showing off and it wouldn’t have mattered who she was, she was just new. She tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach each time he caught her looking at him.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want.” She’d hesitated too long and Nathaniel’s smile had faded to a faint frown.
“Sorry, I was just thinking.” Erica gave herself a mental shake and crossed the room to slide into the space they’d left for her. “You guys actually watch those movies?”
“Sure do.” Gregory shifted slightly, letting his head fall back to rest against Nathaniel’s forearm. This close, she could see the neat puncture wounds on his neck. There was none of the bruising that she’d seen in the mirror the last time she’d peeked. He let his hand drop to her knee and gave it a quick squeeze. Then Zane hit the remote and the movie began.
It was warm and comfortable, wedged in the middle as she was. The heat, combined with her continued fatigue from the blood loss made her sluggish, drowsy. She found herself leaning her head against Nathaniel’s shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind. Their conversation and laughter rose and fell around her, but she didn’t really hear much of it.
Events of the day spooled through her thoughts. She half wished she could go home long enough to sort everything out. She’d spent some time alone with Nathaniel talking in the kitchen late that afternoon. He’d tried to explain his relationship with Anita and Micah when she’d looked puzzled by the way the three interacted. And that had led to explanations about Damian and the Master of the City. And hints about other men.
It had left her bemused and maybe even more confused. The dancing hadn’t helped any. Caleb’s touching had gone way past friendly. Why hadn’t she stopped him?
She’d half expected Damian to do something violent. For a split second, she thought she’d seen anger on his face, but then he’d been nothing but concerned and very…affectionate. Still, she’d found herself shielding Caleb from him. Why?
She yawned and Nathaniel murmured something quietly to her that she didn’t catch. Her eyelids felt heavy and the images on the screen seemed to blur into each other. She heard them talking softly over the movie, knew it was about her but couldn’t muster the energy to follow the meaning. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have. She woke to find her head pillowed on Nathaniel’s lap and her legs curled over Gregory’s. When had that happened?
“You slept through at least half the movie.” Nathaniel smiled down at her while she blinked blearily at him. “That’s OK. We’ll watch it again sometime.”
“You mean it will give you another excuse to watch it again.” Zane accused, craning his neck to look up at Nathaniel.
“Didn’t hear you complaining.” Gregory snorted.
“I think maybe it’s time to get my patient to bed.” Cherry uncurled herself, standing to her full height and somehow making that abrupt change to her nurse persona. It was as if she’d donned a set of scrubs over her tank top and tiny shorts. “Come on guys. Chop. Chop.”
“I’m OK. Really.” Erica protested. But Zane scooped her up from the couch with a chuckle. “Don’t complain. Cherry won’t let me play macho like this for her.” Cherry gave a short laugh in response. He gave Erica a little shake to shift her in his arms, and then carried her easily through the house with Cherry following right behind.
They descended into the basement, Zane refusing to set her on her feet until he stood next to bed, laughing good-naturedly at her protests. Then Cherry shooed him off to find them pajamas to wear while she helped Erica find something of Damian’s to wear.
“I really don’t need all this, Cherry. I’m fine.”
“We’ll stay with you until Damian gets in. Don’t argue. It won’t do you any good.” Cherry pulled out a handful of black silk and made an approving noise. It looked like the top to the pajama bottoms she’d seen Damian wear last night. “Here, put this on unless you want Zane to catch you naked.”
“He wouldn’t, would he?”
“He’s a guy. Of course he would.” Cherry gave her a grin. “You’re probably the only body in the house he hasn’t seen by now.”
A thought occurred to her as she stripped out of her borrowed clothes. Cherry stopped her briefly to tsk over the bruise on her neck. She looked up at the blonde and pondered.
“Who undressed me last night?”
“Nathaniel, I think.”
“Not you?” She blushed, thinking of him peeling her down to her skin. “Oh god…”
“Nope.” Cherry backed off to let her finish changing. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Nathaniel was a perfect gentleman. And you were more than half dead.”
Just then, Zane made his reappearance, stepping silently down from the stairway. Erica hurriedly pulled the too-large silk shirt around her, turning her back to him. He’d changed into a pair of leopard print bikini briefs so brief the effect was comical.
“Where did you get those?” Cherry’s voice held barely restrained laughter.
“Been saving them for a special occasion.” His voice drew closer while Erica hurriedly buttoned herself up. “Like them?”
“There should be a law…” Erica turned to see Cherry sliding out of her shorts so that she wore only a tank top and panties. “Leopard print?”
“What else?” He flopped down onto the bed with an unrepentant grin. “I get the middle.”
There was a brief, but amiable argument over who got the center of the bed. Strangely, while Cherry won the argument, it was Erica who wound up in the middle. Cherry’s reasoning was too convoluted for Erica to follow. Or maybe she was just too sleepy to make sense of it. As soon as she crawled into bed, Zane pulled her close to pillow her head on his shoulder while Cherry snuggled up to her back. Her arm reached across Erica’s waist to rest on Zane’s stomach.
It should have been awkward and uncomfortable, lying there tucked between the two lovers. Between her nurse and her practically naked boyfriend. But it was so warm, and there was something comforting about the steady thump-thump of Zane’s heart beating beneath her ear. Cherry’s warmth at her back. Of not being alone in the dark…
When she woke again, the wereleopards were gone. Someone was calling her name softly and the room was no longer dark but dimly lit by candles on the bedside tables. Gentle fingers touched her face, tracing the shape of her cheek and trailing downward to press softly against the bruise on her neck.
“Erica. Erica…Wake my lovely.” She opened her eyes.
Damian knelt over her, his skin shining in the candlelight, faintly gilded by the golden glow. His hair spilled in a crimson sheet over one shoulder and his eyes sparkled, their emerald depths liquid and fathomless. For a moment, she could look at nothing but those eyes, then he blinked and dropped his gaze for a moment. When he looked back, his eyes were still beautiful, but no longer compelling.
“Damian…” The word came out breathless and her eyes began to see more of him. Much more. Her gaze slipped down over his smoothly muscled shoulders and chest. Down further across his abs, following the sparse path of crimson hair that led lower. She drew in a sharp breath, taking in at last that he wore nothing at all. He was already half erect, and she blushed and looked up to meet his eyes again. “I…How was work?”
It sounded horribly lame. Mundane. But her brain seemed to have stopped working altogether. Damian touched her face again.
“Uneventful. But I would not expect another attack so soon. And certainly not in the same place.” The words were matter of fact, but the tone was not. His voice was soft and deep, sensual. His fingertips brushed her neck above the collar of the shirt, his shirt, and she shivered. “How do you feel?”
“Better. Now that I’ve had some rest.” His fingers followed the edge of the silk until it came to the vee that dipped low between her breasts. He slipped the top button free of its hole and parted the fabric to expose more of her skin to his touch. She exhaled in a long shuddering breath, feeling his touch ghosting over the swells of her breasts, dipping beneath them to trace the curves below.
“I wish to make love to you. I want to bury myself in your sweet warmth and drown myself in your kisses until the dawn steals the breath from me.” He leaned down until his hair spilled around his face and his lips hovered above hers. She reached up to touch his skin, found it warm and smooth and nearly flawless. “Only say yes and I am yours.” He kissed her then, the touch of his lips so soft and gentle it seemed dreamlike.
When he drew back she spoke. She said the only thing she could have said. The only word that came to mind and that one word filled her thoughts.
“Yes.”
.