“You won’t fight unless you run out of options, Narcissus, so no more games.” There was a coldness in Richard’s voice, a firmness that could not be crossed or reasoned with. Again it echoed me more than him. Just how tough had the last few months been on him and his wolves? There are only a few things that will harden you this fast. Death of those close to you; police work; or combat where people are actually dying around you. In civilian life, Richard was a junior high science teacher, so it wasn’t police work. I think someone would have mentioned if he’d lost family members. That left combat. How many challengers had he fought? How many had he killed? Who had died?
I shook my head to clear away the thoughts. One problem at a time. “You can’t have any of us, or our people, Narcissus. You’re not going to start a war over the refusal, so where does that leave us?”
“I will take my men out of the room with your cats, Anita. I will do that.” He came to stand in front of me, his back to the bedpost, one hand playing with the chains attached to it, making the metal jingle. “The . . . people that have them are not terribly creative, but they have a certain raw talent for pain.” He stared at me with human eyes again.
“What do you want, Narcissus?” Richard said.
He wrapped the chain around one wrist over and over. “Something worth having, Richard, someone worth having.”
Asher said, “Do you merely want someone to dominate, or are you interested in being dominated?”
Narcissus looked back at him. “Why?”
“Answer the question truthfully, Narcissus,” Jean-Claude said. “You may find it worthwhile.”
Narcissus looked from one vampire to the other, then back to Asher, standing there in his brown leather outfit. “I prefer to dominate, but with the right person I’ll allow myself to be topped.”
Asher walked towards us, making his tall, slender body sway. “I’ll top you.”
“You do not have to do this,” Jean-Claude said.
“Don’t do it, Asher,” I said.
“We’ll find another way,” Richard said.
Asher looked at us with those pale, pale blue eyes. “I thought you’d be happy, Jean-Claude. I’ve finally agreed to take a lover. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?” His voice was mild, but the mockery came through just the same, the bitterness.
“I have offered you nearly all in my power, and you have refused all. Why him? Why now?” Jean-Claude got to his knees, and I offered him a hand up, not a hundred percent sure that I should.
He looked at the offered hand.
“If you think it’s safe,” I said.
He wrapped his hand around mine, and the power flowed in a burning rush down my hand over his, down his arm, and I felt it hit his heart like a blow. He closed his eyes, swayed for a second, then looked at me. “It was unexpected the first time.” He started to stand, and Richard went to his other side, so that we held him between us.
“I don’t know if this is good for you, or not,” I said.
“You fill me with life, ma petite. You and Richard. How can it be bad?”
I didn’t say the obvious, but I thought it really hard. If you could fill the walking dead with life, should you? And if you did, what would happen to that walking dead? So much of what we were doing between us magically had never been done before, or only once before. Unfortunately we’d had to kill the other triumvirate that consisted of a vamp, a werewolf, and a necromancer. They’d been trying to kill us, but still, they might have been able to answer questions that no one else could have answered. Now we were just swinging in the dark, hoping we didn’t hurt each other.
“Look at you, Jean-Claude, between them like a candle with two wicks. You will burn yourself up,” Asher said.
“That is my concern.”
“Yes, and what I do is mine. You ask, ‘Why him?’ ‘Why now?’ First, you need me. Which of the three of you would be willing to do this?” Asher moved around Narcissus as if he weren’t there, eyes on Jean-Claude, on us. “Oh, I know that you could have topped him. You can do it when you want, and make a virtue of necessity, but he’s had you beneath him, and nothing less will satisfy him now.” He stood close enough that the energy swirled outward, over him like a lip of hot ocean water. His breath came out in a shuddering sigh. “Mon Dieu!” He stepped back until his legs touched the bed, then he sat down on the black sheets. His brown leather didn’t match as well as the rest of us had.
“Such power, Jean-Claude, and yet none of you wishes to pay the price for Richard’s temper tantrum. But I will pay that price.”
“You know my rule, Asher. I never ask of others what I’m not willing to do myself,” I said.
He looked at me curiously, face unreadable behind the mask, except for his eyes. “Are you volunteering?”
I shook my head. “No. But you don’t have to do this. We will find another way.”
“And what if I want to do it?” he asked.
I looked at him for a second, then shrugged. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“It disturbs you that I might want to do this, doesn’t it?” His eyes were intense.
“Yes,” I said.
That intense gaze moved past me to Jean-Claude. “It bothers him, too. He wonders if I am ruined and all that is left for me is pain.”
“You once told me that everything worked. That you were scarred, but . . . functional,” I said.
He blinked and looked at me. “Did I? Well, a man does not like to admit such things to a pretty woman. Or to a handsome man.” He looked up at us, but the only person he was really looking at was Jean-Claude. “I will pay the toll for our handsome Monsieur Zeeman’s display of strength. But I will not be the whipping boy. Not this time.”
Not ever again, hung heavy in the air, unsaid, but there all the same. Asher had had two hundred years of being at the mercy of the people who had given Jean-Claude the memories that Richard and I had flashed on. Two centuries more of that kind of care and torment. When Asher had first come to us he’d been cruel occasionally. I thought we’d cured him of it. But watching the look in his eyes now, I knew we hadn’t.
“And do you know the best part of all?” Asher asked.
Jean-Claude just shook his head.
“It will cause you pain to think of me with Narcissus. And even after I am with him, he will still not answer the question you have been wanting, so desperately, to have answered.”
Jean-Claude stiffened, hand tightening on mine. I felt him slam his own shields into place, keeping us out of what he was thinking, feeling, at that moment. The warm, roiling power between us began to dissipate. Jean-Claude had made himself part of our circuit. Now he was shutting us down, though I didn’t think it was on purpose. He just couldn’t shield himself from us and keep the flow going.
His voice came out calm, his usual bored, yet cultured, tone, “How can you be so sure that he will not talk?”
“I can be sure of what I do. And I will not give him the answer you want.”
“What answer?” I asked. “What are you guys talking about?”
The two vampires looked at each other. “Ask Jean-Claude,” Asher said.
I looked at Jean-Claude, but he was staring at Asher. In a way, the rest of us were superfluous, an audience for a show that didn’t need one.
“You’re being petty, Asher,” Richard said.
The vampire’s gaze moved to the man on my other side, and the anger in those eyes made the blue spill across the pupils in a frosted gleam. He looked blind. “Have I not earned the right to be petty, Richard?”
Richard shook his head. “Just tell him the truth.”
“There are three people in his power that I would strip for, that I would allow to touch me, and answer that so important question.” He stood in one graceful movement, like a liquid puppet on strings. He stepped close enough for the power to spill around him, bringing his breath shuddering from his lips. The power recognized him, flared stronger, as if he could act as our third, if we weren’
t careful. Did the power just need a vampire, and not specifically Jean-Claude? Richard shut down his side of the power, clanging a shield in place that made me think of metal, strong and solid, uncompromising.
Asher caressed the air just above Richard’s arm and had to step away, rubbing his hands on his arms. “The power fades.” He shook himself like a dog coming out of water. “If you would say yes, his torment could end.”
I frowned at them both, not sure I was following the conversation, not sure I wanted to.
Asher turned those pale, drowning eyes to me. “Or, our fair Anita.” He was already shaking his head. “But no, I know better than to ask. I have enjoyed shocking our so heterosexual Richard by my overtures. But Anita is not so easily teased.” He came to stand in front of Jean-Claude. “And, of course, if he wanted the answer badly enough he could do it himself.”
Jean-Claude’s face was at its most arrogant. Its most hidden. “You know why I do not.”
Asher moved back to stand in front of me. “He refuses my bed, because he fears that you would . . . what is the American word . . . dump him, if you knew he were sleeping with a man. Would you?”
I had to swallow before I could answer. “Yeah.”
Asher smiled, but not like he was happy, more like it had been a predictable answer. “Then I will pleasure myself here with Narcissus, and Jean-Claude will still not know if I stay because I have become a lover of such things, or because this type of love is all that is left for me.”
“I haven’t agreed to this,” Narcissus said. “Before I take second—no fourth choice—let me see what I’m buying.”
Asher stood, turning so that his left side was towards the werehyena. He unzipped the mask and lifted it over his head. We were standing enough to one side so that I could see that perfect profile. His golden hair—and I mean golden—was braided along the back of his head so that nothing interfered with the view. I was used to looking at Asher through a film of hair. Without it, the lines of his face were like sculpture, something so smooth and lovely that you wanted to touch it, trace the movement of it with your hands, layer it with kisses. Even after the little show he’d put on, he was still beautiful. Nothing seemed to change that when I looked at Asher.
“Very nice,” Narcissus said, “very, very nice, but I have many beautiful men at my beck and call. Perhaps not as beautiful, but still . . .”
Asher turned to face the man. Whatever Narcissus was about to say died in his throat. The right side of Asher’s face looked like melted candle wax. The scars didn’t start until well away from the midline of his face. It was as if his torturers all those centuries ago had wanted him to have enough left to remember the perfection he’d once been. His eyes were still golden-lashed, his nose perfect, his mouth full and kissable, but the rest . . . The rest was scarred. Not ruined, not spoiled, but scarred.
I remembered Asher’s smooth perfection, the feel of that perfect body rubbing against mine. Not my memories. I had never seen Asher nude. I had never touched him that way. But Jean-Claude had about two hundred years ago. It made it impossible for me to look at Asher with unprejudiced eyes, because I remembered being in love with him, in fact, was still a little in love with him. Which meant that Jean-Claude was still a little in love with him. My personal life just can’t get more complicated.
Narcissus drew a shuddering breath and said in a voice gone hoarse, eyes wide, “Oh, my.”
Asher threw the hood on the bed and began to unzip the front of the leather shirt, very slowly. I’d seen his chest before and knew that it was much worse than his face. The right side of his chest was carved with deep runnels, the skin hard to the touch. The left side, like his face, still had that angelic beauty that had attracted the vampires to him long ago.
When the zipper was halfway down his body, baring his chest and upper stomach, Narcissus had to sit down on the bed as if his legs wouldn’t hold him.
“I think, Narcissus,” Jean-Claude said, “that after tonight you will owe us a favor.” His voice was empty when he said it, devoid of anything. It was the voice he used when he was at his most careful, or his most pained.
Asher asked in a careful voice that didn’t quite match the striptease he was doing, “What level of pain does Narcissus enjoy straight—how do you say—out of the box?”
“Rough,” Jean-Claude said. “He can control his desire and not step outside the bounds of his submissive, but if he is to be topped, then rough, very rough. You do not need a warming up period for this one.” Jean-Claude’s voice was still empty.
Asher looked down at Narcissus. “Is that true? Do you like to start out with a . . . bang?” That last word was slow, seductive. One word, and it held worlds of promise within it.
Narcissus nodded slowly. “You can start with blood, if you’ve the balls for it.”
“Most people have to work up to that for it to be pleasurable,” Asher said.
“I don’t,” Narcissus said.
Asher finished unzipping and lowered the shirt off his arms, held it in his hands for a moment, then struck out with a movement so quick it was only an after-image blur. He slapped Narcissus across the face with the heavy zipper once, twice, three times, until blood showed at the corner of his mouth and his eyes looked unfocused.
I was so startled by all of it that I think I forgot to breathe. All I could do was stare. Jean-Claude had gone very still between Richard and me. It wasn’t the utter stillness that he was capable of, that all the old masters were capable of, and I realized why. He couldn’t sink into that black stillness of death with the lingering touch of the “life” we’d pumped through him.
Narcissus used the tip of his tongue to taste the blood on his mouth. “I am an accomplished liar, but I always give fair trade.” He was suddenly more serious than he had been, as if the flippant tease was just a mask and underneath was a more solemn, thinking person. When he looked up, there was a person in his eyes that I knew was dangerous. The flirt was real, too, but it was partially camouflage to make everyone underestimate him. Looking into his eyes, I knew that to underestimate him would be a very bad thing.
He turned those newly serious eyes to Asher. “For this, I will owe you a favor, but only one favor, not three.”
Asher reached up and undid his hair, letting the heavy sparkling waves fall around his face. He stared down at the smaller man, and I couldn’t see the look he gave, but whatever it was, it made Narcissus look like a drowning man. “I am only worth one favor?” Asher said. “I think not.”
Narcissus had to swallow twice before he could speak. “Perhaps more.” He turned and looked at us, and his eyes were still raw, real. “Go, save your wereleopards, whoever they belong to. But know this, the ones inside are new to our community. They do not know our rules, and their own rules seem harsh by comparison.”
“You warn us, Narcissus, thank you,” Jean-Claude said.
“I think that this one would not like it if you were hurt, no matter how angry he is with you, Jean-Claude. I am about to let him bind me to this bed, or the wall, and do to me whatever he wishes.”
“Whatever I wish?” Asher asked.
Narcissus’s gaze flicked back to him. “No, not whatever, but until I use the safety word, yes.” There was something almost childlike in the way he said the last, as if he were already thinking of what was to come, and not really concentrating on us.
“Safety word?” I asked.
Narcissus gazed at me. “If the pain grows too much, or if something is proposed that the slave does not want to do, you use the word agreed upon. Once the word is spoken the master must stop.”
“But you’ll be tied up, you won’t be able to make him stop.”
Narcissus’s eyes were drowning, drowning in things that I didn’t understand, and didn’t want to. “It is both the trust and the element of uncertainty that makes the event, Anita.”
“You trust that he’ll stop when you say stop, but you like the thought that he might not stop, that he might just keep goi
ng,” Richard said.
It made me stare at him, but I caught Narcissus’s nod.
“Am I the only one in this room that doesn’t understand how this game is played?”
“Remember, Anita,” Richard said, “I was a virgin until Raina got me. She was my first lover, and her tastes ran . . . to the exotic.”
Narcissus laughed then. “A virgin in Raina’s hands, what a frightening image. Even I wouldn’t let her top me, because you could see it in her eyes.”
“See what?” I asked.
“That she had no stopping point.”
Having almost been a star in one of her little bedroom dramas, saved only by the fact that I’d killed her first, I had to agree.
“Raina liked it better if you didn’t want to do it,” Richard said. “She was a sexual sadist, not a dominant. It took me a long time to realize how big a difference there is between the two.”
I looked at his face, but he was safe behind his shields, I couldn’t read him. He and Jean-Claude had more practice at shielding than I did. But, frankly, I didn’t want to know what was behind the lost look on Richard’s face. I realized with a start that I had Jean-Claude’s memories but not Richard’s. It had never occurred to me to ask why that was. But later, later. Right now I wanted to be out of this room. “I want out of here.”
Jean-Claude pulled gently away from both of us to stand on his own. “Yes, the night is running out, and we have much to do.”
I didn’t look at him, or Richard. I’d pretty much promised that if dawn stayed at bay we’d have sex tonight. But somehow staring at Asher’s naked back, with Narcissus gazing up at him with a look somewhere between adoration and terror, I just wasn’t in the mood anymore.
7
THE UPPER HALLWAY stretched white and empty. There was a silver wallpaper border high up on the wall; more silver ran in thin lines down the walls, an opulent yet tasteful display. It looked like the hallway of some upscale hotel. I didn’t know if it was camouflage or if Narcissus just liked it that way. After downstairs’ black techno-punk and Narcissus’s own Marquis de Sade bedroom, it was almost startling, as if we’d stepped from some dark nightmare into a quieter, more peaceful dream.
Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Collection 6-10 Page 203
