Was I Goth?
He nodded, head still cradled on his arms.
Yeah, I guess so, but not really because it pleased me, more because it didnt please her. I found the most offensive T-shirts I could get away with, and most of them came in black. But my friends in high school were the nice girls, not the death poetry writing crowd. I found themtiresome.
Why?
Because Id had real death in my life, and I thought most of them were pretenders.
You dont have much patience with pretending, do you?
No.
But you could always tell yourself that Judith is the wicked stepmother.
Yeah, but Grandma Blake, who raised me for the two years before my father found Judith, well, thats a different problem.
What sort of problem?
Remember, I saw ghosts in elementary school; by my early teens Id accidentally started raising roadkill. I raised my dead spaniel from the grave at fourteen. My dad took me to see my mothers mother, Grandma Flores, so I could learn to control it. But Grandma Blake didnt want me to learn to control it. She was convinced that if we prayed hard enough, the evil would just go away.
Jason looked at me, eyes a little wide. She really believes that, even now?
I think so. I know she prays for my soul. I know she believes that raising the dead is evil. I know she believes that sleeping with vampires is a mortal sin.
How does she feel about shapeshifters?
Oh, youre damned, too.
Does she know youre living with two of them?
Nope.
He grinned at me. Saving the news for a moment when it will bother her the most?
No, I plan to never tell my family.
He looked at me. Youre never going home for the holidays and taking anyone with you?
I sighed. Who would I take?
He seemed to think about that. The vampires are out, I guess.
I nodded.
Wait, you dont want to go back home for the holidays, so living with two shapeshifters means you dont have to go back, because your family would never understand.
I thought about what hed said for a few seconds. Maybe, but Nathaniel and Micah arent an excuse to not visit my family. I love them, and Ive finally got a domestic arrangement that suits me.
He nodded. Ive known you longer than either of them, and Ive never seen you this relaxed, or this happy.
I smiled. All right, now that weve analyzed me, is it your turn?
He actually looked a little embarrassed. Im sorry.
If I didnt want to talk about it, Id have just said no.
True, why did you confess so much?
Because Ive seen your family, and I thought youd earned the right to know a little more about mine.
You did it to try to make me feel better, he said.
Maybe. Did it work?
I watched the thoughts trace over his face, and then he nodded. Yes, it did. I guess I needed to know that Im not the only one whos the stranger at every holiday meal.
Yeah, I said, that sums it up. Everyone else goes home for nostalgia, and happy memories. I end up feeling like I never fit in with the family as a child, and being older hasnt changed that. When I was little I thought Id been left by gypsies, or switched at the hospital, except I had my mothers pictures to look at. I look too much like her not to be her daughter.
She was from Mexico, right?
Her family was, she was first-generation American.
You dont look very Hispanic.
I smiled. The skin color is my fathers, but the hair, eyes, and bone structure are more my moms. My fathers cheekbones have given me less of that nice high, ethnic line, but I am the ghost at the banquet, Jason. The older I got, the more I reminded Dad of the wife he lost, and Judith of the woman she replaced.
Is that your issue, or theirs?
A little of both, I think. Remember, my mother was Dads first love, maybe his first lover, I dont know, but a lot of firsts. Thats a lot of baggage to overcome. Then you have that whole dying-young-and-tragically thing, it tends to put a romantic haze around everything.
Hard for Judith to compete with a dead saint? he said.
Something like that.
Are you projecting, or do you know for certain that wicked stepmom felt this way?
I dont know, Jason. I know thats how I feel, and how they seemed to feel, but I was a kid, and now I cant see them clearly. Theres too much baggage in the way.
I hear that, he said, and his face was back to being all serious, and unhappy. I wanted to drown in the sex and not think, but here we are doing the whole therapy thing that you hate.
I touched his shoulder. Youve earned some talk.
Why, because my fathers a bastard and dying?
Yeah, and youre my friend, and Im supposed to be here to give you what you need. If you need talk more than sex, then we can do that.
You need to feed the ardeur, he said.
Yeah, but if worse comes to worst, I can just release the ardeur and it will take away all our doubts.
The ardeur is great, and it can take the place of a lot of foreplay, but its not what I want right now.
What do you want, then? I asked.
He looked at me, and his face was that serious, almost strangers face, as if the things hed seen today had changed him. Or maybe the things that had happened today had allowed him to show me a part of himself hed kept hidden. Or maybe the stroll down my own tortured memory lane was just making everything seem more serious. I couldnt tell anymore, and I didnt have Nathaniel or Micah here to help me work it out. The only other man who could usually help me see through the maze of confusion was lying beside me on the bed, lost in his own problems.
I want you, he said, simply.
I frowned at him.
He gave a gentle smile that left his eyes untouched. To that question in your eyes, Ill clarify.
You know me that well?
In bed, yes. You stop trying to control your face once the clothes come off. Dressed, youre almost as hard to read as Jean-Claude sometimes.
I thought about that for a second. I guess I feel like I dont get naked with people I dont trust.
He smiled. Yeah.
I settled back against the pillows and said, So, clarify.
I can find women to sleep with, or fuck. Im a stripper. Theyre always trying to give me their numbers, persuade me to go beyond whats legal. Im Jean-Claudes pomme de sang; a lot of women want to sleep with me just for that. To get close to the vampires. The whole werewolf thing gets you a different type of groupie. Then he flashed me that grin that filled his eyes with sparkle for a moment. It made me smile to see it. And, I get my share of women who dont know any of that, and probably could be persuaded.
I waited for him to continue, but had to watch the shine fade from his eyes, and the grin fade. His face was caught between his usual charm and this new, serious side.
But, I finally prompted him.
He took a breath and said, But only you will tell me the truth. Only you will tell me exactly what you want, or dont want. You said it yourself, you dont fake anything here. You dont protect my ego. Either Im good, or Im not. You dont want to trap me into anything. You dont have an agenda beyond the pleasure. You arent worried about what were going to do afterward, or what we did a moment before. You are completely and utterly into the sex, almost from the moment you touch a man. Its relaxing, you dont know how relaxing.
Doesnt everyone do it that way?
He smiled and shook his head. No, no, they dont. Most people let their day get in their head and in the way of the sex. A lot of women just cant turn off their heads long enough to relax to even begin to enjoy themselves.
Ive known some men that way, too, I said.
He smiled, again. Me being one of them.
Not usually, but sometimes. You usually save the analyzing for after the sex, as if the sex clears the way for you to have the big heart-to-heart.
He grinned. Thats not it. I want the sex more
than I want the talking.
But not tonight, I said, softly.
His eyes held onto the humor a little longer, but his face began to slide toward that more serious, older version that I realized was probably going to start peeking through more and more as the years went by. Maybe we were all growing up, even Jason.
No, not tonight. But Im done with the talk. I want to touch you, and I want you to touch me. I want to drown in the scent of your skin, the taste of your body. Sex has been my addiction since I was a kid, and its still my escape of choice.
Actually addicted to sex? I asked.
Therapy-speak again? he said.
I had to smile. You know, Nathaniel is in therapy.
I know that he is diagnosed as a sex addict, or was, if thats what you mean?
Then you know how bad it got for him?
I know, Jason said, and no, if youre really going to make me give a definition, then no, Im not a sex addict. I was close in high school, and really close in college. But Raina nearly killing me during sex sort of cured me of the risky behavior, better than any therapy could have.
Through a metaphysical accident Id shared that memory with him once. It had been horrible, because Id been in Rainas head, and I knew for a fact that the ex-lupa of our werewolf pack hadnt given a damn whether Jason lived or died. Hed agreed to be tied up and have her change on top of him, and have that as his way of being brought over to the pack. What he hadnt understood was that she would slice him up with no care. It had been about violence more than sex for her, true serial killer mentality. I think the only thing that had kept her from having a higher body count was that the lycanthropy saved her victims lives. Though, in honesty, I couldnt find anyone else shed brought over as violently as Jason. I pushed the thought away. I was still able to channel her, sometimes, and this was not the time.
So, because you could stop the behavior through a shock, you werent a true addict?
Something like that, though it depends on what therapist youre talking to, I guess.
We were left looking at each other, both too serious for being in bed naked. Both of us thinking too hard for what we were supposed to be doing. I wondered how to get us past this and into something else, or whether it was time to put the clothes back on.
I love watching you think, he said.
I frowned. What does that mean?
It means that even in the middle of sex, sometimes something will happen and Ill watch you think. Not about your day, or about something extraneous, but about the sex, about the man youre with, about what youre doing.
How can you be sure thats what I was thinking?
Fine, what are you thinking?
I tried not to smile, and failed. Wondering how to get you from this to sex.
See?
What are you thinking, right now, Mr. Serious-Face?
He smiled. That I want to watch your face while you stare up at me while we make love.
So you get to be on top? I asked, and tried to make a joke of it. The joke fell flat in the face of his serious eyes.
Eventually.
Eventually, huh.
He leaned in toward me, and that smile crossed his face, the one that if the customers at Guilty Pleasures could see it, theyd empty their bank accounts. Yes.
I started to ask what he wanted to do first, but he kissed me, his hands slid over my body, and I didnt have to ask what he wanted to do first. He showed me.
25
J ASON SHOWED ME with his hand between my legs, his mouth on mine. He showed me that he was done with his doubts, done with everything but my body and his.
Id never been with him alone when the ardeur was not riding me. Id never been with him when we could pay attention only to each other, without anyone, or anything, else to distract us, to distract him. He was all hands, and mouth, and teeth, and need. He brought me with his fingers between my legs, then slid his fingers inside me and found that sweet spot. He brought me again, and again, with a flick of fingers and flex of hand. Brought me until I shivered, twitched, and writhed, and damn near convulsed on the bed, while he knelt between my legs so he could find just the right angle for his hand.
I managed to gasp, God, Jason, God! Then he stole my words with the pleasure of his hand inside me. He left me with my eyes rolled back into my head, so I was blind to everything but the sensations of my body. Only then did I feel him above me. Feel the press of his body, the weight of him settling on top of me, making me cry out again. I struggled to open my eyes, to see his face hovering over me. The look in his face was everything you want to see in that moment. There was no uncertainty, only the knowledge that he had done this, that his body, his touch, his expertise had brought me to this moment, when the innocent lay of his weight above me could make me cry with pleasure.
He whispered, Now Im going to fuck you.
I whispered back the only word I could think of. Yes.
He smiled, and I would have tried to decide what kind of pleased smile it was, but he chose that moment to work his hips between my legs and push himself inside me. I was so wet, so ready from everything hed done that he slid inside me in one strong movement.
It rolled my eyes back into my head again and tore a sound from my throat as my neck bowed backward, and my spine bowed underneath us both.
His voice came from beside my ear, against my hair. So wet, so tight, so ready. He shoved himself as deep inside me as he could, made me cry out again, and writhe. Then he kissed me, kissed me with our bodies buried as close as they could get. He kissed me, as if the kiss were all, and he werent beginning to move himself in and out of my body. He kissed me, explored me, fucked my mouth as he fucked my body. Hed done his foreplay right; it seemed only minutes and I was screaming my orgasm into his mouth, squeezing it around his groin, clawing it into his back and shoulders. My hands slid in the glisten of sweat on his back. I screamed for him, and he fought to keep his mouth on mine, his bodys rhythm inside me. The only thing he changed was that he fucked me harder, pounding himself inside me harder and faster. I screamed and shrieked, and clung to his body with nails and hands and arms, as if the pleasure would tear me apart, or I would tear him apart.
He finally rose up enough to pin my wrists to the bed. It meant he couldnt kiss me anymore, but he could still fuck me, and he did. I could watch his body work in and out of mine now, and the sight alone brought me again. Without his mouth to stop me, the screams were long and ragged.
His voice came breathy, strained with effort, as his body kept working in and out of mine. Feed, Anita, feed.
It took me moments to fight back from the waves of pleasure, to hear the words, to even try to understand them. I managed, What?
Feed the ardeur, Anita. Feed before I go.
I blinked up at him, and it must have shown on my face, because he laughed, a wonderful masculine laugh, so happy, so Jason, but more. You forgot, you forgot about the ardeur.
I managed to nod.
I do good work, he gasped, but feed now, Im almost His body convulsed above mine, eyes closing, his body beginning to lose its rhythm.
Feed, now!
I almost didnt have enough concentration left to find that metaphysical piece inside me and let it go. But at the last moment, with his body almost gone above mine, and the effort showing on his face, in his shoulders, his arms, his chest, I found the ardeur, and let go. It rose from me like a nearly visible force. Jasons body reacted to it, like a blow. He cried out above me, his body shoved inside me one last time, and I felt him let go, too. Let go of his control, let go of his effort, and give himself over to the ardeur, give himself over to that piece of me that fed on pleasure. It fed on the feel of his body buried deep inside mine, it fed on the strength of his hands holding me down, it fed on the salt taste of his skin as my mouth rose and licked at his chest. I fed, as his body convulsed inside mine, not once, but twice, three times. I brought him with my body squeezed around him, pulsing for every last drop. I brought him with my mouth on his skin, his chest
, licking the last salty bit off the hardness of his nipple.
He paused above me, head hanging down, the edges of his hair plastered to his face with his efforts. His shoulders began to collapse, so that he finally lay down on top of me. He kept his hands loosely on my wrists as his face lay beside mine on the pillow. He was still inside me, but we were both done. We lay there, not for more sex, but to catch our breaths, and let our bodies be able to move again.
He kissed my cheek, and I turned, with effort, so he could kiss my lips. It was a gentle, breathless kiss, and I swear I could taste his pulse in his mouth.
I like you, he said, and managed a smile as he said it.
It made me laugh, and that made him wince, rather than writhe. No more, God, please.
Hed reached that point where he was too sensitive to do more. Cool. I kissed him back and said, I like you, too.
When love isnt on the menu, like isnt a bad thing to be able to say, and mean it.
26
T HE SEX HAD been good enough that it wasnt a matter of deciding how long to cuddle afterward, it was simply we both fell asleep. We fell into that deep, exhausted, damn near unconscious rest that comes after the sex has been long, and hard, and sweaty, and amazing, and the day has been too long, too hard, and you can finally let it all go. You can finally rest, against the skin and touch and weight of your lover.
I woke with Jason and I wrapped around each other; legs and arms intertwined, bodies almost melded together with sweat, and fluids, and sleep.
He made a small, soft sound that was almost a laugh, but not. The sound was one of those utterly contented noises that have no spelling, no place in a dictionary, but they are often the sounds that say more than any full word just how happy we are.
He turned his head enough to see me, and gave me the smile and the look that went with that soft almost-laugh. I moved my head toward him, still on the pillow, and he moved, too, so that our lips met in the middle of the pillow, our bodies still intertwined.
Jason drew back just enough to look at my face, our faces still pressed to the same pillow. Thatwasamazing.
I smiled. Yes, it was. I focused a little past his face and saw marks on his shoulders. I lifted my head enough to see better, and found nail marks on his back. Jesus, Jason, Im sorry.
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