“Some advice,” Narcissus said. “All dominance challenges, especially from your own people, must be handled quickly, or the problem will spread.”
“Thanks. Actually, I knew that.”
“Still she defies you.”
“I’ve been trying to avoid killing her.”
We looked at each other very quietly, and he gave a small nod. “Your gun, please.”
I sighed and raised the front of my shirt, though the material was stiff enough that I had to roll it back to expose the butt of the gun. I lifted the gun out and checked the safety out of habit, though I knew it was on.
Narcissus took the gun. The two bodyguards had moved, blocking the crowd’s view of us. I doubted most people knew what we’d just done. Narcissus smiled as I rolled my shirt back into place over the now-empty holster. “Truthfully, if I didn’t know who you were and what your reputation was, I wouldn’t have smelled the gun, because I wouldn’t have been trying to. Your outfit doesn’t look like it could hide a gun this big.”
“Paranoia is the mother of invention,” I said.
He gave a small bow of his head. “Now enter and enjoy the delights, and the terrors, of my world.” With that rather cryptic phrase, he and his bodyguards moved through the crowd, taking my gun with them.
Jean-Claude trailed his fingers down my arm, and that one small movement turned me towards him, my skin shivering. Tonight was complicated enough without this level of sexual tension.
“Your cats are well until you enter the upper room. I suggest we do the mark now, first.”
“Why?” I asked, my pulse suddenly in my throat.
“Let us go to our table, and I will explain.” He moved off through the crowd, without touching me further. I followed and couldn’t stop myself from watching the way the vinyl fit him from behind. I loved watching him walk, whether he was coming or going—a double threat.
The tables were small, and there weren’t many of them crowded against the walls. But they’d cleared the dance floor so they could set up for some sort of show or demonstration. Men and women dressed in leather were setting up a framework of metal with lots of leather straps. I was reeeally hoping to be elsewhere before the show started.
Jean-Claude took me to one side before we got to the table that Jason and three complete strangers were gathered around. He stepped in so close to me that a hard thought would have made our bodies touch. I pressed myself against the wall and tried not to breathe. He put his mouth against my ear and spoke so low what came out was merely the soft sound of his breath against my skin. “We will all be safer when the marks are married, but there are other . . . benefits to it. I have many lesser vampires that I have brought into my territory in the last few months, ma petite. Without you at my side, I dared not bring in greater powers, for fear that I could not hold them. Once the marks are married between us, you will be able to sense those vampires that are mine. The exception, as always, is a Master Vampire. They can hide their allegiances better than the rest. The marriage of marks will also let my people know who you are, and what will happen to them if they overstep their bounds with you.”
I spoke, lips barely moving, lower than he had spoken, because he could still hear me. “You’ve had to be very careful, haven’t you?”
He rested his cheek against my face for a moment. “It has been a delicate dance to choreograph.”
I had gone into this evening with my metaphysical shield tight in place. Marianne had taught me that with my aura ruptured, the other shielding was of paramount importance. I shielded with stone tonight, perfect, seamless stone. Nothing could get in, or out, without my permission. Except Narcissus’s power had already danced inside my shields. I was afraid that touching Jean-Claude would be enough to shatter the stone, but it wasn’t. I wasn’t even aware of the shielding, unless I really concentrated. It could stay in place even when I slept. Only when you were attacked did you have to concentrate, if you were good at shielding. I’d spent a week at the beginning of the month in Tennessee with Marianne, working on nothing but this. I wasn’t great at it, but I wasn’t bad either.
My shields were in place. My emotions were drowning in Jean-Claude, but my psyche wasn’t, which meant that Marianne was right. I could hold the dead outside my shield easier than the living. This gave me the courage to do a little more. I leaned my face against Jean-Claude’s, and nothing happened. Oh, the feel of his skin against mine sent a thrill through my body, but my shields never wavered. I felt some tension that I hadn’t even known was there ease out of me. I wanted him to hold me. It wasn’t just sex. If that was all it was, I could have been rid of him long ago. He must have felt it, too, because his hands rested lightly on my bare arms. When I didn’t protest, his hands caressed my skin, and that small movement brought my breath to a sigh.
I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist, pressing the lines of our bodies together. I rested my head on his chest, and I could hear his heart beating. It didn’t always beat, but tonight it did. We held each other, and it was nearly chaste, just a renewal of the fact that we were touching again. I’d worked on the metaphysical stuff so I could do this and not lose myself. It had been worth the effort.
He pulled back first, enough to look into my face. “We can marry the marks here, or find somewhere more private.” He wasn’t whispering as much as before. Apparently he didn’t care now if others knew what we were doing.
“I’m not clear on what marrying the marks means.”
“I thought your Marianne had explained it to you.”
“She said we’ll fit together like puzzle pieces and there’ll be a release of power when it happens. But she also said that the manner in which it is done is individual to the participants.”
“You sound as if you are quoting.”
“I am.”
He frowned, and even that small movement was somehow fascinating. “I do not want you to be unpleasantly surprised, ma petite. I am striving for honesty, since you value it so highly. I have never done this with anyone, but most things are sexual between us, whether we will or no, so it is likely this will be, too.”
“I can’t leave the leopards here long enough to grab a hotel room, Jean-Claude.”
“They will not be harmed. Until you go upstairs, they will be safe.”
I shook my head and pulled away from him. “I’m sorry, but I am not leaving here without them. If you want to do this afterwards, that’s fine with me, but the leopards are priority. They’re waiting for me to rescue them. I can’t go off and have what amounts to metaphysical sex while they’re afraid and bleeding somewhere.”
“No, it cannot wait. I want us to have this done before the fight begins. I do not like that your gun is gone.”
“Will this marriage of the marks give me more . . . abilities?”
“Yes.”
“And you, what do you get out of it?” I was standing against the wall now, not touching him.
“My own defenses will be strong once more, and I will gain power, as well. You know that.”
“Are there any surprises connected with this that I should know about?”
“As I said, I have never done this with anyone, nor have I seen it done. It will be as much a surprise to me as to you.”
I stared up into his lovely eyes and wished I believed that.
“I see the distrust in your eyes, ma petite. But it is not me that you do not trust. It is your power. Nothing ever goes as it should with you, ma petite, because you are like no power come before you. You are wild magic, untamed. You throw the best of plans to the wind.”
“I’ve been learning control, Jean-Claude.”
“I hope it is enough.”
“You’re scaring me.”
He sighed. “And that was the last thing I wished to do.”
I shook my head. “Look, Jean-Claude, I know everyone keeps saying my people are fine, but I want to see for myself, so let’s just get this done.”
“This should be something special
and mystical, ma petite.”
I looked around the club. “Then we need a different setting.”
“I agree, but the setting was your choosing, not mine.”
“But you’re the one insisting on it having to be right now before all the fireworks start.”
“True.” He sighed and held out his hand to me. “Come, let us at least go to our table.”
I actually thought about refusing his hand. Funny how quickly I could go from wanting to jump his bones to wanting to be rid of him. Of course, it wasn’t exactly him, but more the complications that came with him. The mystical stuff between us was never simple. He said that was my fault, and maybe it was. Jean-Claude was a pretty standard Master Vampire, and Richard, a pretty standard Ulfric. They were both wonderfully powerful, but there was nothing too terribly extraordinary in their powers. Well, there was one thing about Jean-Claude. He could gain power by feeding off sexual energy. In another century he’d have been called an incubus. It’s rare even for a Master Vamp to have a secondary way to gain power outside of blood. So it was impressive, sort of. The only other masters I’d met who could feed off of something other than blood had fed on terror. And of the two, I preferred lust. At least no one had to bleed for it. Usually. But I was the wild card, the one whose powers seemed to fit nothing but legends of necromancers long dead. Legends so old that no one believed they could be true, until I came along. Sad, but true.
The table had cleared out while we were whispering. Now just Jason and one other man were there. The man was dressed in brown leather, from what I could see of his pants to the zipped-front, sleeveless shirt he was wearing. He was also wearing one of those hoods that left your mouth, part of your nose, and your eyes bare, but covered the rest of your face. Frankly, I found the hoods creepy, but hey, it wasn’t my bread that was being buttered. As long as he didn’t try anything with me, we were cool. It wasn’t until he looked up into my face that I recognized those pale, pale blue eyes—the startling ice blue eyes of a Siberian Husky. No human I’d ever met had eyes like that.
“Asher,” I said.
He smiled then, and I recognized the curve of his lips. I knew why he’d worn the hood. It wasn’t sexual preference, or at least I didn’t think so. It was to hide the scars. Once, about two hundred years ago, some well-meaning church officials had tried to burn the devil out of Asher. They’d done it with holy water. Holy water is like acid on vampire flesh. He’d once been, in his own way, as breathtaking as Jean-Claude. Now half his face was a melted ruin, half his chest, most of the one thigh I’d seen. What I’d seen of the rest of him was perfect, as perfect as the day he died. And the parts I hadn’t seen, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know about. Through Jean-Claude’s marks I had memories of Asher before. I knew what his body looked like in smooth perfection—every inch of it. Asher and his human servant, Julianna, had been part of a ménage a` trois with Jean-Claude for about twenty years. She’d been burned as a witch, and Jean-Claude had only been able to save Asher after the damage had been done.
The events were over two hundred years old, yet they both still mourned Julianna, and each other. Asher was now Jean-Claude’s second in command, but they were not lovers. And they were uneasy friends, because there was still too much left unspoken between them. Asher still blamed Jean-Claude for failing them, and Jean-Claude had a hard time arguing with that, because deep down he still blamed himself, too.
I leaned down and gave Asher a quick kiss on the leather cheek. “What did you do with all your long hair? Please tell me you haven’t cut it.”
He raised my hand to his mouth and laid a gentle kiss on it. “It is braided, and longer than ever.”
“I can hardly wait to see it,” I said. “Thanks for coming.”
“I would move all of hell to reach your side, you know that.”
“You French guys do talk pretty,” I said.
He laughed softly.
Jason interrupted. “I think the show is about to start.”
I turned and watched a woman being led towards the framework that had been erected. She was wearing a robe, and I really didn’t want to see what was under it.
“Whatever we’re going to do, let’s do it and go get the leopards.”
“You don’t want to see the show?” Jason asked. His eyes were all innocent, but his smile was teasing.
I just frowned at him. But his eyes looked behind me, and I knew someone Jason didn’t like was coming towards us. I turned to find Ajax standing there. He ignored me and spoke to Jean-Claude. “You have fifteen minutes, then the show starts.”
Jean-Claude nodded. “Tell Narcissus I appreciate the notice.”
Ajax gave a small head bow, much like his master had done before, then walked off through the tables.
“What was all that about?” I asked.
“It would be considered rude to do something magical during someone else’s performance. I told Narcissus that we would be calling some . . . power.”
I must have looked as suspicious as I felt. “You are beginning to piss me off with this cloak-and-dagger magic act.”
“You are a necromancer, and I am the Master Vampire of this city. Do you really believe that we can merge our powers and not have every undead in this room, and more, notice it? I do not know if the shapeshifters will be able to feel it, but it is likely, since we are also both bound to a werewolf. Everything nonhuman in this club will feel something. I don’t know how much, or exactly what, but something, ma petite. Narcissus would have taken it as a grave insult if we had interrupted this performance without warning him.”
“I don’t mean to rush you,” Asher said, “but you will use up your time in talking if you are not quick about it.”
Jean-Claude looked at him, and the look was not entirely friendly. What was happening between them that Jean-Claude would give such a look to Asher?
Jean-Claude held his hand out to me. I hesitated a second, then slid my hand into his and he led me to the wall near the table. “Now what?” I asked.
“Now you must drop your shields, ma petite, that so-strong barrier you have erected between me and your aura.”
I just stared at him. “I don’t want to do that.”
“I would not ask if it were not necessary, ma petite. But even if I were able to do it, neither of us would enjoy me breaking down your shielding. We cannot merge our auras if my aura cannot touch yours.”
I was suddenly scared. Really seriously scared. I didn’t know what would happen if I dropped the shields with him right there. In times of crisis our auras flared together forming a unique whole. I didn’t want to do this. I am a control freak, and everything about Jean-Claude ate at the part of me that most needed control.
“I’m not sure I can do this.”
He sighed. “It is your choice. I will not force it, but I fear the consequences, ma petite. I do fear them.”
Marianne had given me the lecture, and it was really too late to get cold feet. I could either move forward with this, or eventually one of us would die. Probably me. Part of my job was going up against preternatural monsters—things with enough magic to sense a hole in my defenses. Before I’d ever been able to sense auras, or at least before I knew that I was doing it, my aura had been intact. With my own natural talent, that had been enough. But lately I seemed to be running up against bigger, badder monsters. Eventually, I would lose. That, I might have been able to live with, sort of. But costing Jean-Claude or Richard their lives? That I couldn’t handle. I knew all the reasons I should do this, and still I stood there gazing up at Jean-Claude, my heart beating in my throat, my shields tight in place. The front part of my brain knew this needed doing. The back part of my brain wasn’t so sure.
“Once I drop my shield, then what?”
“We touch,” he said.
I took a deep breath in and blew it out as if I were about to run a race. Then I dropped my shields. It wasn’t like tearing down the stone walls; it was like absorbing them back into my psyche. The tower was j
ust suddenly not there, and Jean-Claude’s power crashed over me. It wasn’t only that I felt the sexual attraction in full force, I could feel his heartbeat in my head. I could taste his skin in my mouth. I knew he’d fed tonight, though intellectually I’d known that when I heard his heart beating. Now, I could feel that he was well fed and full of someone else’s blood.
His hand moved towards me, and I flattened against the wall. The hand kept moving, and I pulled away from it. I moved away because more than anything in the world at that moment I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to feel his hand against my bare skin. I wanted to rip the vinyl from his body and watch him, pale and perfect above me. The image was so clear that I closed my eyes against it, as if that would help.
I felt him in front of me, knew he was leaning close. I ducked under his arm and was suddenly standing by the table, leaving him near the wall. I kept backing up, and he kept watching me. Someone touched me, and I screamed.
Asher was holding my arm, gazing up at me with those pale eyes of his. I could feel him, too, feel the weight of his age, the heft of his power in my head. That was my power, but I realized in shielding so strongly from Jean-Claude I’d also cut myself off from some of my own powers. Shielding was a tricky thing. I guess I still didn’t have the hang of it.
Jean-Claude moved away from the wall, holding one slender hand out to me. I backed up, Asher’s hand sliding over my arm as I pulled away. I was shaking my head back and forth, back and forth.
Jean-Claude walked slowly towards me. His eyes had gone drowning blue, the pupil swallowed by his own power. I knew with a sudden clarity that it wasn’t his power or lust that had called his eyes, it was mine. He could feel how my body tightened, moistened, as he moved towards me. It wasn’t him I didn’t trust. It was me.
Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Collection 6-10 Page 199
