Jean-Claude laughed, but it was a good laugh. "Thank you, pussycat. You look good enough to eat, as you always do."
"If you want to take a bite out of me, just ask." Nathaniel's face was serious, and why not? He had become one of the master vampire's regular feeds, just like I had. But this was the first time that Nathaniel had offered to feed him while he hovered just above the other man's body, their faces almost touching. Nathaniel's body was in what amounted to a plank like you did in gym, except he was doing it on a soft mattress, so that the muscles in his back, legs, and arms showed the strain of it. His ass was tight and firm, helping hold his body in place above Jean-Claude.
"We are supposed to be getting ready to sleep, pussycat. If I feed on you, it will not make me want to sleep."
Nathaniel smiled down at him. "I'll be good."
"Of that, I have no doubt," Jean-Claude said.
Nathaniel lowered his face just enough to kiss Jean-Claude. It was a chaste kiss compared to the one that he and I had just done, but there was something very erotic about them doing it with Nathaniel's body held just above the other man's. Jean-Claude raised a hand to caress the line of Nathaniel's bare back, tracing the muscles that kept him so still above him. Nathaniel rolled over to one side of the bed to lay his head against Jean-Claude's chest. The vampire did the natural movement that went with that, which was to put his arm around Nathaniel's shoulders and hold him. He cuddled closer to Jean-Claude, snuggling into the hug. I wasn't sure what had gotten into Nathaniel tonight. He was in a good mood, but it was mercurial, so that even I didn't know what was coming next.
"As I said, before I was so delightfully interrupted, I can wear more to bed if it will help your comfort level."
"If the king wants to wear nothing to bed, then that is the king's pleasure," Damian said, but he was uncomfortable with the pair of them cuddled up in the bed. It showed in the way he held his shoulders and how he didn't stare too long at them. Was Nathaniel trying to make our so-heterosexual vampire more uncomfortable? That didn't seem like something Nathaniel would do to Damian, unless I'd missed the redheaded vampire making Nathaniel uncomfortable elsewhere. Nathaniel was usually one of the nicest people you'd ever meet, but occasionally if something hit him wrong, his payback was very tit for tat. You do this to me and I will do it to you in spades. What had Damian done to make Nathaniel want to pull on this issue so hard?
"I do have pajamas if it would make you more comfortable tonight," Jean-Claude said, still holding Nathaniel in the crook of his arm.
"You said you were sleeping on the other side of Anita."
"I am."
"Then what you wear, or don't, isn't as . . . pressing," he said at last.
"They will be too long for him, but I could lend Nathaniel a pair of pajama bottoms," Jean-Claude said.
"I usually sleep nude," Nathaniel said, rubbing his cheek against Jean-Claude's bare chest like a cat scent-marking its person.
"We both do," I said.
"Show him what you are wearing, ma petite. Perhaps that will make our crimson-haired guest more willing to come to bed."
I didn't hesitate about it, because the way Damian was standing said in every line from shoulder to feet that he was debating leaving. I gave Damian all the eye contact I could as I dropped my robe beside Jean-Claude's and revealed a lacy blue camisole and boy shorts that were the same royal blue as the robe.
"Beautiful," Nathaniel said.
"Very nice," Damian said.
"Thanks. Jean-Claude picked it out," I said.
"I chose the color, but it is your body that turns a bit of silk and lace into something extraordinary," Jean-Claude said.
I turned and started walking toward the bed, and maybe I put a little extra sway to my hips in the lacy boy shorts. I wanted Damian to want to come to bed. The men were being strangely uncooperative about it, or seemed to want to feed his straight-guy nervousness about sharing a bed with extra men. I wanted to appeal to the part of him that wanted to crawl into bed beside me, regardless of what the men were doing.
I looked back at Damian and did my best to put the smile he wanted to see on my face. He looked stricken, as if I'd slapped him instead of just walked away in lacy pajamas. Apparently, I looked even better in the outfit than I'd thought, or at least my ass did. I grabbed hold of one of the bedposts to help me climb up on the tall mattress. I very deliberately crawled the long way across the bed toward the other two men so that Damian got a good view.
"Come to bed, Damian," I said, and turned to look over my shoulder at him, and the look on his face was everything I'd wanted it to be. Was it unfair since we weren't going to have sex? Maybe, but if we were going to see if sleeping between Nathaniel and me could fix the whole sweating-blood-and-nightmares thing, Damian needed to get in bed with us and sleep.
Damian took off his robe last, laying it at the far foot of the bed, where we'd never accidentally touch it unless we grew several feet taller. When I say it's an orgy-size bed, I'm not joking.
Damian was wearing pajama bottoms that looked as silky as my robe, but they were a deep red and made his upper body look almost translucently pale, as if you should have been able to see his bones move as he walked, or as if the red brought out a shine to his skin that I hadn't noticed before.
"Nice color on you--the red, I mean."
"Thank you," he said.
"Come up on the bed so we can get some sleep," I said.
"I hope I don't sleep. I hope I just die at dawn," he said. I had a moment of wanting to ask if he meant die at dawn to wake the next night, or just die. He'd talked about it in his office, and that was never a good thing for a person to begin to speculate about. But I didn't ask, because some things you do not ask before bedtime, and you certainly don't ask about death and suicide when you're about to curl up between two walking corpses that may die with the rising of the sun.
Damian climbed tentatively onto the other side of the bed from us. He had to crawl a ways to reach us, and then we had another awkward moment as he stared at the three of us. The men were still cuddled up, but I was leaning against them almost like they were the back to a lounge.
Jean-Claude kissed Nathaniel on the forehead. "You need to sleep beside Damian, mon minet."
Nathaniel kissed just above his nipple, and for a moment I know he was debating whether to kiss on it, but he just came to his knees and kissed me lightly on the mouth and moved across the bed to make room for Damian.
I lay down next to Jean-Claude; this would be a sort of test for me, too, because I generally put one of the other men between me and the vampire. I loved Jean-Claude to pieces, but the fact that he did usually die at dawn was unnerving to me. His body cooled as the hours passed, and sometimes I would wake from nightmares of being trapped in coffins with other vampires. I'd been a little claustrophobic thanks to a diving accident, but that first time waking up trapped in a coffin built for one but holding two, one corpse and me trapped in the dark, the other body cold and dead, and knowing that if I screamed no one was coming to help me, and I'd screamed anyway, had put the scary cherry on my phobia. So I'd earned my issues about sleeping beside vampires, but Jean-Claude and I were going to get married, so I needed to try.
Jean-Claude kissed my cheek as I snuggled under the covers and up against his still very warm and wonderful body. "Thank you, ma petite. I know this is trying for you."
"I don't mean to be a burden," Damian said.
"It is not you that is a burden, Damian. It is any vampire that sleeps pressed against her. She finds it disturbing that we grow cooler as the hours pass until it is truly like sleeping beside the dead."
Damian climbed under the covers and settled down close, but not touching me. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that was an issue for you."
"You said you don't die at dawn now, so you won't be an issue," I said.
"Aren't we hoping that he does die at dawn and there are no nightmares because we're here with him?" Nathaniel asked.
"Oui, mon minet,
but perhaps saying it out loud like that to ma petite was not diplomatic."
Nathaniel looked very sorry. I could feel his instant regret. "I'm so sorry, Anita. I wasn't thinking."
"It's okay, but please start thinking more." I wasn't really referring to what he'd said, but more how he'd acted as if he wanted to make Damian run away from us. Nathaniel had been asking for more up close and personal with Damian for months; I didn't understand why he wasn't helping more now that he had the chance.
There was another awkward moment as we all tried to settle into sleep, but Jean-Claude was there this time and didn't let the awkwardness grow.
"Damian, do you sleep on your side, your back, or your stomach?"
"My back, or sometimes my stomach," Damian answered.
"Ma petite and Nathaniel are side sleepers. I prefer my back but we will do what we can to compromise."
Jean-Claude turned off the bedside lamp and snuggled up against my back until I could feel his groin pressed against the silk-and-lace boy shorts so that I wiggled against him just a little. His upper body curled over me almost protectively, one arm holding me close against him. "It has been too long since I took blood, ma petite. You can writhe against me all you like, but I will be of no use to you."
Nathaniel was on his side on the other side of Damian, who was still sitting upright.
"Lie down, Damian, please," I said, and smoothed some of the covers near me.
He did what he was told, but he lay on his back with the arm closest to me across his stomach and the one beside Nathaniel straight at his side. Both arms were above the covers. Nathaniel and I looked across the vampire's body at each other. Nathaniel raised his eyebrows at me, as if asking, What now? We both had our arms underneath the covers, but Damian's arms now had them pinned so we couldn't reach under them toward each other.
Most of my lovers were side sleepers or had trained up to sleep on their side after a few months. Here was a new one to try to train all over again to sleep on his side so we could spoon while we slept. I freed a hand from the covers and laid it across his bare chest. He moved under my touch, but it was like he was as afraid to touch me now as when he first came into the room.
"At least put a hand or arm across her, Damian."
"I thought you might not want me to touch her, my king."
"If I did not want you to touch her, I would not have insisted you sleep with us today."
"I suppose not." And Damian touched my hand where it lay on his chest.
"You have to move this arm, Damian," Nathaniel said.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because you've trapped the covers, and I can't reach across you and touch Anita without getting my arm out of the covers. I like under the covers when I sleep."
Damian sighed but turned onto his stomach, with one arm tucked up under his body and the other reaching over my side, but that had him touching Jean-Claude's bare side, and Damian pulled back.
"I gave you my word of honor when you first came here that I would never force myself on you. I have never given you a reason to doubt my word."
"You have been a man of your word, Jean-Claude."
"Then put your arm over ma petite and touch me, or not, but do not flinch every time you touch me accidentally or none of us will sleep tonight."
"I'm not comfortable yet," Nathaniel said.
"Then get comfortable, our pussycat."
Nathaniel slid an arm across Damian's back until he could touch me, and lightly Jean-Claude if he stretched.
"Damian, scoot closer to Anita, so we can all cuddle."
Damian drew a breath, as if to argue, then seemed to finally give in to the whole idea. He didn't say anything, but his arm went over me and across Jean-Claude, and then Damian snuggled in against me, pinning Jean-Claude's arm between us. Nathaniel snuggled in tighter on Damian's other side, throwing a leg across the other man's legs, which pressed his body tight against Jean-Claude's arm and Damian's side. Nathaniel stretched out his arm across Damian's back and finally must have put part of his shoulder on the other man's back, because he could reach not only me but enough of Jean-Claude so he was able to wrap his hand over the other vampire's side and hold him, too. Jean-Claude raised his arm and put it across Damian's back and Nathaniel's side. Now Damian could press himself closer against me. He turned a little bit on his side so that his arm and a bit of hip were propped up on me, which meant that Nathaniel pretty much rolled partially on top of him, but he didn't protest this time. It wasn't perfect with him on his stomach and me on my side, but as I let my hand and then my arm slide over his back, some tension in me eased. I was able to stroke Damian's back at the same time that I could caress Nathaniel's side, we were all so intertwined. It was always good to have Jean-Claude pressed in at my back, but there was a goodness to Damian's and Nathaniel's skin touching mine that wasn't about love, but almost about need, as if I'd been needing to touch both of them together for a very long time.
Was this how Jean-Claude felt about sleeping with me and Richard? If so, he'd been missing it lately. I'd ask Jean-Claude later, but right now I suddenly just wanted to sleep.
I heard Damian's breath go out with a long, almost contented sigh. I buried my face against his red hair and found it still damp near his scalp from the shower and smelling like clean herbs. I kept petting his back and playing along Nathaniel's side with the same gesture. Jean-Claude held us all, and somewhere in the warmth of skin, silk sheets, and clean, damp hair, we all fell asleep. We weren't thinking of nightmares, but that was okay, because the nightmares were thinking of us.
6
I WAS STANDING on a narrow cobblestone street. I'd have called it an alley, except cars were parked on it. It was after dark, but the streetlights kept it from being truly dark, so the light was electric-kissed and softened in a fine, misting rain that made halos around the lights as if angels had been beheaded and put up on poles as a warning.
Even in the dream I thought, That's a weird thought, and thinking it made me realize it was a dream. There was something lying in the shadows against the far wall, lost in a pool of blackness that all the light seemed to miss, as if the light were afraid of it or didn't want anyone to see it. I went forward, because I had to somehow, and as I reached out toward that darker shadow my hand was too big, too pale, a man's hand. Then it was mine, and then it wasn't, like a television channel that isn't steady so that it wavers between one show and another, until the dual images pile on top of each other and you can't tell what you're watching anymore. I/he got close enough to the shadowed heap, because it was a pile of something against the wall. There was a pool of dark water near it, was the first thought, but as the liquid crept around our shoes--my jogging shoes and his dress boots--we knew it wasn't water. We stood in a growing pool of blood, and the shadow lifted like a magician taking away a cloth, and . . .
The body lay crumpled on its side, one hand drawn up tight against its side as if it had tried to hold in some of what was spilling out of its stomach. Something had ripped it open--her, ripped her open, because the staring face was female. She looked young, maybe even pretty, but it was hard to tell now. The rain beaded on her skin like someone was sprinkling her. The head began to slide as if she were going to shake her head, but it was just her dead muscles giving up on holding her head in place. Her throat had been torn open like her stomach, so that the soft light glistened on her spine among all that red meat. I thought I saw teeth marks in her flesh, but I couldn't be sure because there were sirens in the night, but they didn't sound right. The man in my head turned to run and the corpse grabbed his/my ankle.
I woke sitting upright in the dark, my breathing ragged and panicked. Except it was as if I woke up twice--no, three times--and was sitting beside myself as we all fought not to scream. I managed to whisper, "Damian, Nathaniel, it's Anita."
Damian said, "Oh God, you saw, right? You saw the body."
"Yes." The bed felt soaked with sweat as if we'd been trapped in nightmares for too long.
"That didn't feel like any dream I've ever had," Nathaniel said, and he had reached through the dark so that we were holding hands across Damian.
Jean-Claude turned on the bedside light from where he was standing beside the bed, and the moment he did, I gasped, because it wasn't sweat that had soaked the bed; it was blood. Damian and Nathaniel were covered in it. Damian cried out, holding his hands in front of him. Guards came through the door without knocking, guns naked in their hands. They were both tall, in good shape, like most of the guards. They aimed at Damian, because you can't shoot your king, or his queen, or one of their main lovers.
"No, don't hurt him!" I called out.
Jean-Claude said, "It is Damian who is hurt, I think."
My blue nightie was purple with blood; half of Nathaniel's face and upper body were stained red, and his shorts were black with it, but Damian's pale skin was dotted and splotched with blood like castoff from some terrible crime. His red pajama bottoms were black from waist to ankle, the cloth wrapped tight to his legs with so much blood.
"What have I done?" he asked, hands held out toward us.
"Nothing, mon ami, it is you who have bled, not ma petite, or Nathaniel."
"Who hurt him?" I asked.
"No one. I believe it is sweat."
The guards, one brunette and the other with paler brown hair, aimed their guns at the floor but weren't leaving. I couldn't even blame them. The bed looked like a serial killer crime scene except everyone was alive. Damian began to check himself for wounds. Nathaniel and I helped, touching his back and places he couldn't reach, but once we wiped the blood away his skin seemed whole.
"I woke to ma petite struggling in the dark with a dream, but when I went to wake her, I realized all of you were dreaming. Damian began to sweat, and though we have some light color to our sweat, this was . . ." He gestured at the ruined bed. "I have never seen this before."
"What's happening to me?" Damian asked, and it was almost a yell, but the look on his blood-spattered face was a plea.
"I do not know," Jean-Claude said, and I got a quick flash of how worried he was, before he shut it down and pushed me further from his emotions, but that was okay because I was feeling enough from Damian. Nathaniel and I were both fighting to separate his terror from our unease. I wasn't afraid, not yet. I'd save being afraid for when there was something real in front of me to fight. Or that was what I told myself as I calmed the pulse that was trying to gallop out of my neck, as if I were choking on my own heart. God, Damian was so afraid.
Crimson Death Page 10
