Dead Ice

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  I didn't, but I know I was scowling with every morning greeting after a while. I felt squirmingly awkward, like one of those nightmares where you have to give a major speech and you've forgotten your clothes. Apparently embarrassment can tone down vampire powers; who knew?

  I was relieved to finally get to the little locker area near medical. One, it was in a small cave-y alcove so I had a moment of privacy. Two, I could finally empty my hands into the locker, lock it, and keep the key, though I didn't have any pockets to put it in. I debated long and hard on whether to keep the smaller Sig Sauer with me, but again I had no way to carry it. I was surrounded by guards, our bodyguards; they were armed and paid to keep us all safe, so why did it bug me so much to shut the locker with all my guns inside it? Now I really did feel naked.

  I finally gave in, reopened the locker, got out the Sig still in its holster, and just carried it all in my left hand. With my left hand, since I was right-handed, because if I really had to use it, I'd hold the holster with my left and draw the gun with my right. My left hand would do what the belt normally did: hold the holster tight so the Sig could come out with one hard, smooth pull. Maybe I was being paranoid keeping a gun with me, but hey, I left both of the Sig's spare magazines in the locker. See, not paranoid, just cautious, and if you think otherwise you haven't had enough people shoot at you.

  Benito was standing just around the corner from the locker area. He wasn't exactly at the head of the medical area, but just inside it, so he wasn't easily visible but could just step out and surprise them like he had tried to do with me.

  "You saw me?"

  "Felt you," I said, and that was the closest I could come to explaining how I had known someone was in the shadows there. Then Bram stepped out of the shadows, and I knew it hadn't been Benito the wererat that I'd sensed; it had been the wereleopard. I was better at sensing all the wereanimals that were my flavor to call. Bram was Micah's main bodyguard. He was a few inches taller than Benito, but they were both built lean and I knew Bram was wicked fast. Benito didn't practice with us, because he wasn't one of our guards; he was all for Rafael. Bram's hair was cut very short on the sides, but with a little more left on top to style as he let go of the military haircut he'd come to us with; he was darker than Benito, and it wasn't just tan. He still looked unfinished to me without Ares standing at his side; they'd partnered each other as guards and as friends. Ares had been the blond physical counterpoint to Bram's oh-so-brunette. Ares was dead, and Bram was like a shadow with no light to balance him, or maybe that was just my guilt talking, since I'd been the one who had to kill him. A vampire had bespelled Ares and suddenly all that military skill and werehyena strength was turned against us. It was one thing to not be able to save someone, but to have to pull the trigger on them, that was something that stayed with you.

  Benito grinned, eyes shining with some suppressed mirth.

  "Leave it alone, Benito," Bram said.

  It took me a second to realize that the wererat guard's eyes were looking lower than my face. I guess the fact that it took me even a few seconds to remember I was nude meant I was getting more comfortable with it than I'd thought.

  "Your eyes better stay on my face, Benito, because one rule across all wereanimal cultures is that if someone is just nude and not trying to be sexy you're supposed to ignore it."

  "My apologies, Anita," and he tried to keep his eyes on my face, but it was as if my breasts had a gravitational pull that he just couldn't resist. I refused to cover up, because he was the one being rude; I wouldn't let him embarrass me, damn it.

  "I've never seen you on the practice mat, or in the gym working out, but I'd really credited you with more control than this," I said.

  He looked at my face then, frowning. "What do you mean?"

  "It's been my experience that a man who can't control himself in one way has poor control in others."

  The frown turned to a scowl, but he was giving me great eye contact now. "My control is excellent, or I would not be trusted to guard our king."

  "Good to know, and the eye contact is appreciated."

  A look went through his eyes that I couldn't decipher, and then he smiled. "Very well done." He gave a few soft claps. "You manipulated me beautifully," and something about the way he said it was still not as friendly as normal.

  "I just got you to behave professionally, that's all."

  He scowled again.

  Bram said, "Micah and Rafael are in room three."

  "Thanks," I said, and moved past them, though admittedly I walked on the far side of the hallway so that Bram was between me and Benito. I didn't think he'd hurt me, but there was something odd about the last few minutes of interaction with him, and until I understood it I'd err on the side of caution.

  I had a moment of hesitation just outside the door to the room, because again I suddenly felt very naked. Maybe it was the weirdness with Benito, but I suddenly felt awkward again. Micah wasn't the problem; if he saw me nude and it made him think sex, and I wasn't rushing for work, then I was all for it. The problem was Rafael. Even though we were friends with benefits, showing up without clothes seemed a little abrupt for him and me. He was actually quite fond of silky lingerie with robes. The first time we'd had sex had been very slam, bam, thank you, ma'am, but either because of how he'd behaved the first time, or because it was his natural bent, there was always a bit of talking and just awkwardness as if he was never quite sure how to transition from good evening to hey, baby.

  Me walking in naked would definitely not be the style to which Rafael and I had become accustomed. I started to wonder about looking for a robe, or something, or texting Micah . . . and I realized that I'd left my phone in the locker with the weaponry. Sigh.

  The door opened and Micah was there. His eyes went a little wide as he saw me, and then he smiled. It was a good smile, and the look in his eyes said plainly that he appreciated the possibilities of the view.

  "The shower took longer than I'd planned, and I didn't want to wake anyone in the bedrooms to get clothes."

  He grinned at my obvious discomfort. "It's okay, Anita, you just surprised me, that's all. You usually don't like walking through the Circus without clothes."

  "Yeah, way too many new guards to say good morning to for my comfort," I said, frowning.

  He reached out to take my left hand like normal and found it full of gun. He switched to my right hand without missing a beat. "You don't have to explain, or apologize."

  "It's just a little . . . brazen for me."

  "Brazen?" Rafael said from inside the room, and followed it with a laugh.

  "Laughing about this will not make me more comfortable, Rafael," I said.

  "Then I am no gentleman to increase your discomfort; please come inside. We can give you one of the extra sheets, if you truly wish to cover yourself." See, very formal most of the time.

  Micah led me into the dimly lit room. The lights were very low, because shapeshifters could be light sensitive when they were doing major healing. I didn't hide behind him, but I did sort of make certain I wasn't revealed completely in a sort of "ta-da" moment. I was engaged to Micah and had been having sex with Rafael for a year; I had no idea why I was this uncomfortable, but I let myself feel what I was feeling. Ignoring emotions doesn't make them go away; I'd learned that the hard way.

  Rafael lay on his stomach, the sheets neatly folded where the body curved down into the ass, leaving the long expanse of his upper back bare. If he had been one of my main lovers it would have been inviting, but he and I weren't dating. He would never be my boyfriend, or anything I had a word for; we came together so I could feed the ardeur and he could gain a closer tie to the throne. It was like solving political problems by fucking, which on one hand sounded wrong, and on the other hand almost seemed a better system than normal politics.

  "You are thinking very serious thoughts, Anita," he said; his eyes were so dark that only the glitter of them catching the light let me know for sure he was looking at me.
>
  "Would you understand if I said politics makes strange bedfellows?"

  He laughed then, hard enough that he winced, hands digging into the covers, as he fought not to writhe in pain, which apparently would hurt more. Seeing him in that much pain took away my discomfort and replaced it with worry.

  I went forward, still holding Micah's hand. "I thought you'd be more healed by now."

  "So did I," he said, in his deep voice, but there was more of an accent than normal, which meant either he was trying to play to his ethnicity, or he was stressed. He didn't have to play the big bad Mexican boss for us, so stress it was.

  I knelt down beside the bed and had to let go of Micah's hand to lay my hand on Rafael's arm. I still had the Sig in my left, though I was beginning to wonder what I was going to do with it, when I needed both my hands. "The doctors cleaned the wound out, right?"

  "Yes."

  Micah answered before I could ask the next question. "They don't know why he's not healing faster."

  I looked up at Micah, then back to Rafael. "I see why you wanted me to come down and try healing with the ardeur now."

  "Rafael would also be more comfortable with my healing gifts with you here," Micah said. Since his ability to call flesh, as the wereleopards call it, only worked if he licked and bit the healing into the flesh, I could sort of understand that.

  I smiled and patted Rafael's arm. "It's a little too much like foreplay for comfort, isn't it?"

  He laughed again, but more carefully than he had before, so that he didn't move his body as much. "Especially midback from behind."

  "It could be worse," I said.

  "How?" he asked.

  "It could be your, um, very lower back," I said, smiling.

  He grinned then, a bright flash of teeth in the room's gloom. "That is true, much more problematic."

  "Okay, I'll hold Rafael's hand while you try to heal him, but can you heal a wound this deep?"

  "I'm not sure, but if I can't it's your turn to try to heal him with the ardeur, or the wolves' munin."

  "Sexual either way," I said.

  He nodded. "We're both aware of that."

  "Remember, Anita, I knew Raina when she was alive. I saw her use her healing gift on the werewolves, and it was very sexual. You carry her munin, her memory, inside you, which means it's still her healing gift."

  "And you know how the ardeur works for me, better than most," I said.

  He smiled. "I do."

  "Almost all my power is either sex or death."

  "It is an interesting paradox that you represent fertility and death," Rafael said.

  "She raises the dead, so it's giving life, not taking it," Micah said.

  Rafael seemed to think about it. "Interesting, and true."

  "For now, just stay where you are beside the bed and hold his hand while I call flesh," Micah said.

  "Have you ever tried to use your hands instead of your mouth?" Rafael asked, which to me said that Micah's method of healing was bothering him even more than I'd thought.

  "I have, and it doesn't work."

  "I've seen films of humans who could heal with their hands, I think it's called the laying on of hands," I said.

  "But leopards don't have hands, and this seems to be a gift from the beast side, not the human," Micah said.

  "I wonder if there are any leopards alive today that can heal like this?" I asked.

  "That would imply that animals can do magic," Micah said.

  "Why not?" I asked.

  He shook his head.

  "It's just psychic ability, Micah, and they've proven that some animals have forms of telepathy, and certainly empathy, why not more?"

  "I don't know, maybe, but right now I only have one way to try to heal Rafael."

  "I would request that Anita sit on the bed and allow me to rest my head in her lap, rather than just kneel by the bed."

  I agreed without thinking through the whole I-was-totally-nude part. What would have been just a friendly gesture with clothes on, as I held his hand and cradled his head, was suddenly much more intimate. He was already my friend with benefits, so why did it bother me? I have no idea; if you figure it out, let me know.

  46

  I LAID MY gun, still safely in its holster, on the tiny bedside table, and sat on the bed so my lap could be Rafael's pillow. Since he had to be on his stomach, again it was more intimate than if he'd been able to lie on his back, but I'd agreed and it wasn't like he hadn't been in my lap before. I bucked up and tried to act like a grown-up and not an embarrassed teenager, and stroked Rafael's black hair with one hand and let him hold tight to my other hand. I felt Micah call his healing in a rush of heat that traveled along Rafael's body and into me, so that the rat king's body was like a conduit between two points of electricity, or wood between two fires. Micah bent down, and I had a ringside seat to see him place his lips against Rafael's bare back. Micah was totally dressed in T-shirt and jeans, but even with him dressed there was still something sensual watching him put his mouth on the other man's skin. Micah's hair was back in a braid, so I had a perfect view of his lips caressing the skin, the muscles of his jaw flexing as he began to work his tongue along the wound.

  Rafael was fine until he felt tongue and then he flinched, hand gripping tighter in mine. I didn't think it was just Micah French-kissing the wound that bothered the rat king, but the push of energy that went with it. That warm, probing energy pulsed through my body so that I had to catch my breath. I knew it was stronger for Rafael, because the rush of it was being focused directly on his body. Sometimes what freaks us out most aren't the things that feel bad, but the things that feel good.

  Rafael's head moved against my thigh and I couldn't tell if it was a pain movement or a cuddle one. I petted his hair, playing with the shortness of it. It was grown out just enough that there was the promise of waves in it, but I knew he would be trimming it soon, and it would go back to being neat and straight and controlled. Control was very important to Rafael.

  His body spasmed against the bed, his free hand convulsing in the bottom sheet, his other hand in mine, and then energy rode down his skin and over me. It caught my breath in my chest and tightened my body in a line that went all the way through me. Rafael's head rose off my lap, eyes wide enough to show white edges. His breath came out in a sharp sound that shook at the end. We had a moment of our eyes meeting and a shared knowledge of just how good this was feeling.

  I bent over and kissed him. His lips were soft, mouth open with another sigh. A rush of energy took us while we kissed. It rode through Rafael and into me, as if his mouth were a sweet tunnel spilling into mine. I made eager noises, half-muffled against his lips, and slid my body underneath his, so that my hips were under his chest before we had to break the kiss, because we didn't quite bend that way.

  I ended with my hips trapped underneath his chest; my knees were up on either side of his body, angling my groin up against his stomach as if I were already prepping for lower things. His face was pressed against my breasts; one hand was behind my body holding me against him, the other pressed to the bed as if he, too, had started that next movement so lower body parts could touch. I looked down his body at Micah.

  His mouth was buried tight against Rafael, his throat working convulsively as he swallowed. I had a moment to think he was drinking blood from the wound, because that was what it meant when I saw Jean-Claude or Asher swallow like that. Then his gaze rolled up to meet mine, and those leopard eyes stared at me over Rafael's body. Usually even though the eyes were cat, it was still Micah looking out of them, but in that moment it was leopard that gazed up at me over Rafael's body, with its human mouth pressed against bleeding flesh . . . meat; it was meat. In that second I knew that the friendship, the alliance between us and the rats, how much we liked and respected Rafael, all the hopes for the future, even the reason we were trying to heal him before tonight's meeting, all of it meant nothing to the eyes looking up at me. Those eyes thought only one thing about our fr
iend stretched between us--food.

  It thrilled through me from toes to fingertips in a rush of fear, because I was too close to those eyes, that thought, but with that thrill came another one that turned what could have been terror into a different need. A need so strong that it tightened things low in my body and tore an eager moan from my throat.

  It helped fill the eyes with a thought that wasn't all leopard, but it was just as predatory. Rafael reacted to my reaction with his hand pressing tight against my back; his mouth spilled over my breast, hot and eager to suck. I held Micah's gaze while the other man reacted to us, and now the thought of "food" included Rafael's hand holding my breast so he could get a better angle to lick and suck. I hadn't fed the ardeur in over twelve hours, and the man playing with my breasts was such good food. Rafael brought another eager sound, made my hips rub upward against his body, so that he caressed parts that his hands hadn't touched yet. Micah's gaze stayed locked on mine the whole time. Rafael was luckier than he knew in that moment that Micah wasn't into men, because predatory could mean so much more than just meat.

  Rafael's mouth at my breast tried to flutter my eyes shut, but I fought to keep Micah's gaze. He lifted his mouth away from the wound enough so his tongue could lick the edges of it, while he stared at me. My pulse quickened. I felt the energy begin to build as he licked the edges, and then worked slowly lower, his tongue going in and out of the wound in fast quick movements as if he were licking entirely different things. It made me press my groin harder against Rafael's body, grinding myself on his stomach. It wouldn't bring me, but it helped me climb the edge we were beginning to ride.