Incubus Dreams

55



Jason left without a word, but Nathaniel said he'd wait outside with the wererats. No one liked leaving us alone, not even me. Hell, I wasn't sure Richard liked being left alone with me, but he'd asked for it, and I hadn't.



Richard stayed on the floor, as if he'd never move again. Since there was no chair, I stripped the stained sheets from the bed and sat on the edge of it. I sat sort of half-cross-legged, with one leg dangling off the bed, but I made sure the robe covered as much of me as it could.



We sat that way in total silence for at least a minute, though it felt like longer. I broke first, because just watching him kneel there, head bowed, made me want to comfort him, and that would go badly. Richard didn't take comfort from me anymore, or at least he didn't without making me pay for it later. That was a game I was no longer willing to play.



"What's up, Richard? You wanted privacy for a talk. We've got the privacy, now talk."



He moved just his eyes up at me, and that one look was enough. Angry. It didn't spill out into his power, or fill the room, but I think that was because he was shielding, probably as hard as I was. "You make it sound easy."



"I didn't say it was easy. I just said, you wanted to talk, so talk."



"Just like that."



"Hell, Richard, you're the one who asked for this talk. I didn't invite you into a private conversation."



"You asked about the fight with Clair. I don't want to share that with everyone."



"You don't have to share it with me."



"I think I need to."



"What's that supposed to mean?"



He swallowed hard enough for me to hear it, then shook his head. "Let's start over. I'll try not to be mad, if you try not to pick at me."



"I'm not picking at you, Richard. I'm trying to get you to talk to me."



He looked up at me, full face, not so much angry anymore, but not happy. "If a friend had something hard to tell you, would you say, 'so talk'?"



I took a deep breath and let it out. "No, no I wouldn't. Okay, how's this. I'm sorry, you feel like you have to tell me something that is so obviously painful for you. But what I said before is still true, you don't owe me an explanation about a fight you had with your girlfriend, Richard. You really don't."



"I know that, but it's the quickest way I can think to explain everything."



I wanted to say, "explain what?" but fought the urge. He was obviously hurting, and I tried not to rub salt into anyone's wounds. But the call for privacy, and the big buildup was making me nervous. As far as I knew, Richard and I didn't have anything this important to say to each other. The fact that he thought differently made me downright uneasy.



I sat on the corner of the bed, one hand going to the top of the robe, because even with it belted tight it was gaping. Too big through the shoulders, so it just didn't fit quite right. I kept one hand on the top and the other hand in my lap, so I didn't accidentally flash him. I'd been buck naked in front of him for minutes, but suddenly I was all worried about him catching a glimpse. I think it was his comment, that he couldn't have this talk with me naked. Would I find it hard to talk seriously if he was naked in front of me? I wanted to answer no, but truthfully in my own head, the answer was yes. Shit, I did not need this.



He was back to staring at the floor. I couldn't stand it. I had to prompt him, but I tried to prompt him more kindly than before. I tried to think of him as my friend and not as the ex who always seemed to rain all over my parade.



"What do you want to tell me about the fight with Clair?" I even managed to keep my voice neutral. Points for me.



He took in a lot of air and let it out, then raised a pair of sad brown eyes to me. "Maybe that's not where to start."



"Okay," I said, voice careful, "start somewhere else then."



He shook his head. "I don't know how to do this."



I wanted to yell, "do what?" but I resisted. But my patience had never been limitless, and I knew that if he continued to be obtuse, I'd blow it. Or my temper would. That gave me an idea: Maybe if I started talking, he'd just jump in.



"It's been a while since I felt your rage," I said.



"I'm sorry about that. I lost control, I don't..."



"It's not a complaint, Richard. What I meant to say was that it felt different than the first time I touched it."



He looked at me. "What do you mean?"



"It felt, no, it tasted like my anger, like me, almost more than you."



I had his attention now. "I don't understand."



"I'm not sure I do either, but follow my thought. Asher once told me that Jean-Claude had become more ruthless because I was his human servant. But with Damian being my vampire servant, I gained some of his emotional control. You can only gain what your partner has to share."



He was looking at me, and the sadness was fading under him thinking. There was a good mind in there somewhere, he just didn't always seem to use it. "Alright, I understand that."



"If Jean-Claude gained some of my practicality, making him more ruthless, then what did you gain? I mean I got some of your beast and your hunger for flesh. I got Jean-Claude's blood lust and the ardeur. What did you gain from us?"



He seemed to think about that. "I gained some of Jean-Claude's blood lust. Blood is as attractive as flesh to me, almost. It wasn't before." He moved so he was sitting Indian fashion on the floor. "It's easier to talk mind-to-mind with you lately, and last night, I interfered with you controlling that zombie." He shivered just a little, like something about that scared him. Guess I couldn't blame him.



"But the mind-to-mind thing being this easy and the zombie stuff is recent, Richard. What did you gain the first time?"



He frowned at the floor. "I don't see..."



"What if you gained some of my anger?"



He looked up then. "Your anger can't be worse than the rage of the beast."



I laughed, and it was closer to humor than his earlier laugh had been, but not by much. "Oh, Richard, you haven't spent enough time in my head if you believe that."



He shook his head, stubbornly. "A human isn't capable of the kind of mindless rage that the beast is."



"You haven't researched many human serial killers, have you?"



"You know I haven't," he said, and he sounded grumpy.



"Don't go all grumpy on me, Richard, I'm trying to make a point here."



"Then make it," he said.



"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about. That sounds more like me, than you. You've been quicker to anger for the last bit, and I've been less quick to anger, why? What if you got some of my anger, and I got some of your calmness?"



He shook his head again. "You're saying that your human anger is worse than my beast's rage. That's not possible."



It was my turn to shake my head. "Richard, you seem to think that human is better than lycanthrope. I don't know where you get that idea."



"Humans don't eat each other."



"Shit, Richard, yes, they do."



"I don't mean cultures that have ritual cannibalism."



"Neither do I."



"Comparing lycanthropes to serial killers isn't going to make me feel better about being a lycanthrope."



"My point is that humans can be just as rage filled, just as destructive. The difference is that a werewolf is better equipped for mayhem than a mere human. If human beings had the fangs and the claws that you guys do, then we'd, they'd, be just as destructive. It isn't lack of wanting to do it, it's lack of the right tools that make humans less scary."



"If this is your rage, Anita, it's awful. It's worse than almost anything I've ever felt. It's like being crazy. So angry, almost all the time. I can't believe it's something that was in you."



"Not past tense, Richard, trust me. I had to embrace what I operate on a long time ago."



"What you operate on, what does that mean?"



"It means that at the heart of me, is this deep, seething, bottomless, pit of pure rage. Maybe I came with it. I know my mother's death helped fill it up. But as far back as I can remember, it's been there."



He shook his head. "You're just saying this to make me feel better."



"Why would I say something that wasn't true just to make you feel better?"



Anger filled his eyes, like magic. One moment trustworthy brown, the next moment serial killer dark. "Thank you, thank you very much, for reminding me that I don't mean shit to you anymore."



I shook my head, and let my hands fall into my lap. "If you meant nothing to me, Richard, nothing at all, we wouldn't be in this room alone."



"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry. I just get so angry, so angry." He tried to rub his arms, but the bloody scrapes hurt.



"You said you wanted to lick the wounds, go ahead. It won't bother me."



"It will bother me," he said.



"No, Richard, licking your wounds would make you feel better. You'd enjoy it, and that's what bothers you. Not the wanting to do it, but how good it feels when you give in to it."



He nodded, staring at his hands. "I tried to embrace my beast, Anita. I really tried."



"I felt you feeding on a deer. I felt how happy you were in wolf form. It felt like you had embraced it."



"When I'm in animal form, yes. But it's being human on the outside, and not human on the inside that gets me confused."



"Does it get you confused, or Clair?"



He gave me a look that wasn't exactly angry. "I thought you didn't hear the fight."



"I got one word when she was screaming at you--animal. Am I wrong? Was she complaining about herself and her beast?"



"No, you got it exactly right." He laid his hands in his own lap, and his eyes were back to being sad, like someone had hit a switch. Angry, sad, angry, sad. It was like some sort of demonic baby hormones. "She accused me of raping her." His voice was soft when he said it.



I gave him very wide eyes and let just how impossible I thought the idea was to show in my face.



He gave a very small smile. "Just the look on your face now is worth something. You don't believe it, just like that, you don't believe I could do that to her."



"I don't believe you would do that to any woman, but that's beside the point."



"No," he said, and his voice sounded more relaxed than it had since he entered the room, "that's not beside the point, not for me. After what a bastard I've been to you, that you still believe in me, that means a lot."



I wasn't sure what to say to that. If I agreed that he'd been a bastard would that start a fight? If he thought I believed in him, was that going to give him the wrong idea? I mean, not believing that Richard would rape someone didn't mean that much to me. He was a decent person, that's all.



"I'm glad it makes you feel better, but remember, I saw the beginning of the lovemaking session. You can't rape the willing, Richard."



His eyes looked haunted, as if there was something I'd missed. "She said that I always make love like it's rape."



That made my eyebrows go up again. "Excuse me? Tell that to me slowly, because it made no sense fast."



He looked up at me, and there was something in his eyes, some demand, something he wanted me to say, or do, but I didn't know what. "Do you mean that?"



"I mean, explain what she meant by it."



"She said, I'm always so rough, that it's like rape. That I don't know how to make love, that I only know how to fuck." His eyes looked raw, as if the pain in them had been skinned naked to shine out of his face. It hurt me to see it, but I didn't look away. I gave him my eyes and let him see what I thought of what Clair had said.



"Is she still your girlfriend?"



"I don't think so."



"Good, because I'd hate to say she's crazy if you were still going to date her."



"Why is she crazy?" he asked.



"What kind of head job has she done on you, Richard? Rape isn't a word that anyone should use lightly."



"She didn't use it lightly," Richard said, and the small smile was bitter. "She meant it."



"How?"



He looked at me, and the pain was still raw. "Did I ever hurt you when we were together?"



I started to ask, "emotionally, or physically?" then decided to just ask, "You mean physically?"



"I mean did I hurt you when we made love?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry to ask you this. I don't have a right to ask, but I didn't know who else to ask. I knew you wouldn't lie, because I was your Ulfric, or because you didn't want to hurt my feelings. I knew that if I asked, you would give me a real answer."



I looked at him and hoped I didn't look as amazed as I was feeling. After everything we'd done to each other, all the fights, the hurts, and he still trusted me. He trusted me not to lie, not to make it worse than it was, or better than it was, but to tell the truth. I wasn't sure if I was flattered or insulted. I decided to be flattered, because anything else would have pissed me off. But the amount of trust he was putting in me scared me, not for me personally, because he was right, I'd give him the truth. But a lot of people wouldn't. A lot of people would have used it as an excuse to twist the knife a little deeper. He was damned lucky I wasn't one of those people.



I opened my mouth, closed it, stroked my hands down the silk of the robe, and finally had to look away from those pain-filled eyes while I tried to think how to answer. Not truth or lie, but how to say it.



He stood up, suddenly, abruptly. "That's alright, I shouldn't have asked."



"Sit back down, Richard. I'm just trying to think how to say it, so it doesn't sound stupid."



He stood there, his face all set to be angry, as if he didn't believe me.



"Fine, stay standing, but you asked if you'd ever hurt me when we made love, right?"



He nodded.



"Yes, and no."



The scowl turned into a frown. "What does that mean, 'yes and no'?"



"It means that Mother Nature has made it almost impossible for you to be anything but rough, unless you're very careful."



He frowned harder. "I don't understand."



Of course he didn't, of course he would make this as embarrassing as possible. "Richard, you are aware that you're well-endowed, right?" I felt the blush start creeping up my neck, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I'd always blushed fairly easily, but I'd seldom hated it as much as I did in that moment.



"Raina said I was. It was one of the reasons she wanted me for the movies."



"You didn't know you were large before Raina?"



It was his turn to blush. "I was a virgin before Raina."



I shivered, and the look on his face was so raw, that I said out loud, "The thought of a virgin with Raina is just frightening. She was one very sick puppy."



He nodded. "I know that, now."



"Did you know it at the beginning with her?" I asked.



"I didn't have anything to compare it to," he said.



I had an idea. Raina had been his first lover, and Raina had been into sadomasochism on a scale that made a joke out of safe, sane, and consensual. She'd done porn, hell, snuff films. She'd been one of the scariest and most twisted people I'd ever met, and I'd met a lot. Richard had nothing to compare it to, what exactly did that mean?



I tried to lead up to it, obliquely, my version of subtle. I went back to my original point. "You're big, Richard, which means when you're making love, unless you're careful it can hurt."



"I did hurt you," he said, and he sounded desolate.



"I didn't say that."



"Yes, you did."



"Richard, listen to what I'm actually saying, don't editorialize in your own head, okay?" I stood, so I could pace. This was not a conversation for sitting still.



"I'll try," he said.



"Good enough." I came to stand in front of him and tried again. "A lot of women don't like their cervix bumped during sex."



He gave me that puzzled frown again. How did I end up giving my ex-fianc¨¦ sex education? How does anyone end up in these kinds of conversations? Just unlucky, I guess.



"If you go too deep, you reach the end of most women. You bump into the end of the vagina, you hit their cervix."



He nodded, then said, "I always come to the end."



I made a voil¨¤ gesture. "That's my point."



"What's your point?"



I put hands on hips because either he was being deliberately obtuse, or he really wasn't getting it. "You're big enough that you always bump someone's cervix if you're in a position that allows all of your... penis to go inside her. I can't be any plainer, Richard, so please make the connection here."



"You mean it hurts them," he said.



"Yes."



"It hurt you," he said.



"No. I like having my cervix bumped. I have a whole different kind of orgasm from it, so I don't mind."



He was frowning again, but more like he was thinking. "You're saying that if you didn't like it, that it would hurt."



"It would just hurt," I said, "because in some positions, with someone as well-endowed as you are, it is a sort of pain. But for me, and I'm betting for Raina, it was more pleasure than pain." I hated putting myself in any category that contained Raina, but I would have bet good money that I was right.



"I hurt you, but I didn't?"



I sighed. "Look, this is an area that I've only recently embraced myself. Sometimes my pain and pleasure centers get confused. What would hurt most people feels good to me, at least during sex." It was my confession, so I didn't have to meet his eyes, since it was my pain and not his.



"Me, too," he said.



I looked at him. "Well, that would explain a lot."



"What do you mean by that?"



"The sex was always great, Richard. Even when everything else was going to hell, the sex never stopped being great."



"You mean that?"



I nodded. "Yes."



He smiled, and it was almost a real smile, except for that flinching in his eyes. "So you think I was too rough for Clair, because of my size?"



"And your technique is vigorous."



He gave that frown again.



"Richard, haven't you ever been with anyone where you weren't as... vigorous?"



He gave me a look that said more clearly than any words that the answer was no.



"Okay, a friend of mine told me that men are ducklings, they tend to imprint on their first lovers. Which means they tend to make love the way they are first trained to make love. You were trained by a woman who was a sexual sadist and made porn movies, violent porn movies."



He looked shocked, then horrified. "You're saying Clair is right. I was too rough. I did hurt her."



I shook my head. "Did she ask you not to be so vigorous during the lovemaking?"



"She never asked about my... technique at all. She just blew up and said I was too rough. That I enjoyed making her beast come. That I enjoyed her clawing me up. That I enjoyed making her a monster. That I always made love like an animal no matter what shape I was in."



Eeeah. I said what I was thinking, "Did Clair mean to hurt you as much as possible, or was it just an accidental hit?"



"What do you mean?"



"I mean, that if I were trying to hurt you as much as possible, I couldn't do better than that."



"I think she just meant it. I mean if I'm having sex rough enough for Raina, then how can it be anything but rape to anyone else?"



I shook my head and waved a hand in front of his face, so he'd look up and at me. "Don't ever use the word rape to me again, Richard, because you don't do that. If you're with someone who likes sex the same way you do, then it's just good sex."



"But rough," he said.



I shrugged. "You don't start out rough, but yeah, you usually end up there, but it was never anything I didn't want to do. All Clair had to do was ask for what she wanted, but she treated you like so many women treat men, like you should be able to read her mind. You aren't a mind reader, Richard, just a man, and men are usually less able to read a woman's mind than another woman is."



"I'm not a man, Anita, I'm a werewolf. I'm an animal."



I grabbed his upper arms. "Don't let me hear you say that, ever again. You say animal like it's a dirty word, Richard, it's not. But until you own that it's not, don't let anyone make you feel that bad about yourself."



He smiled then, a little sad around the edges, but it was a real smile. He touched my arms with his hands, and I pulled away. I was so not going to hug and make up. I would help him through this, if I could, but we were not a couple anymore.



"If I didn't hurt you, then why did you pull away just now?"



I hugged my arms tight and paced a little farther away from him. "You came here for truth, fine, here's truth. We're not a couple anymore, Richard, but that doesn't mean I don't feel... oh, hell, I don't want you to get the wrong idea."



"And what would that be?" His voice was back to being guarded.



"You were very clear at my house yesterday. I was in your head, Richard. I know what you were thinking, what you were feeling. I was there inside your head."



"Then you saw what I wanted to do to you." He turned away, so that all I could see was the back of him in jeans, and the jean jacket that was a few shades bluer than the jeans. His hair was beginning to have waves, but it still looked shorn to me. "It was sick, Anita. I wanted you afraid of me. Having you afraid while I fucked you, would have been... would have--"



"Just flat done it for you," I finished for him.



He turned and looked at me. His eyes were desolate, as if something in them had died. "Yes, yes, exactly."



"Richard, every lycanthrope I know is a little confused about the fear response, food, and sex."



He shook his head, and it must have been too vigorous, because he winced. "But no lycanthrope I've met, except for Raina and Gabriel, thought fear was an aphrodisiac."



"Since I've met some of the same lycanthropes that you've met, I know that's not true. What is true, is that Gabriel and Raina were the only ones willing to admit it to anyone and everyone."



"No, no," he said and stalked toward me, his anger starting to rise in a warm prickling wash. "No one else wanted what they wanted, not like that. Not the real thing."



"Aha," I said, then apologized for saying aha, "but the point is, you said not the real thing. I've met a lot of shapeshifters who are into the bondage and submission scene, but it's a game with rules. Safe, sane, consensual. There are safe words, and once that agreed-upon word is uttered, then it stops, it's over."



"There was no word that would keep you safe from Raina and Gabriel."



"Exactly, Richard, exactly. But you can enjoy the game without doing what they did."



He grabbed for me, and I tried to be out of reach, but in the end, I had only a shadow of his speed, not the real thing. He got one wrist instead of two, but he still got one. He jerked me a little toward him, not hard, but enough that I planted my feet and set up for not being pulled any closer. Just principle, instinct, nothing personal.



"What if it's the reality I want, Anita? What if the reason Raina liked me so much was that I'm just like her?" He didn't hurt me, didn't do anything but keep holding my wrist, keep me, so that I knew I couldn't get away, easily, if at all. I was stronger than a normal human, but I wasn't as strong as a real lycanthrope.



I let out a breath that was even, and my voice sounded normal, but I couldn't help it. I started with, "Let go of me, Richard."



"You're afraid of me," he said.



"No, but you aren't my boyfriend anymore. You don't have the right to touch me without permission."



"The fact that you're trying to pull away, and I know you can't, excites me."



There was a time in my life that I would have argued, but we'd argue about it later, if we needed to. I didn't repeat my request, because I wasn't sure what would happen if I upped the physical stuff. I knew I didn't want to find out, so I talked. "All you need is a submissive of your very own who likes to play these games, and you're all set, but I am not your anything, so let go of my wrist." Okay, I couldn't not ask again.



He let go of me, so abruptly I stumbled a little. I guess I'd been pulling harder away from him than I thought. Fancy that. I resisted the urge to rub my wrist. Never let them see that they've hurt you. It's a rule. "You're nothing like Raina, Richard."



"Yes," he said, "I am."



"I carry her munin, remember, I've had her in full technicolor glory in my head, and I've been in your head, too. Trust me, you don't think like she did."



"Sometimes I fantasize about horrible things, Anita."



What I wanted to say was, I wasn't his mother confessor, but I didn't, because I didn't know who else to send him to for this talk. Who else would I trust? No one. Damn it.



"So don't we all, Richard, the difference isn't what you think, it's what you do about it. Most of us know the difference between fantasy and reality. We know that what works as pretend doesn't work in the real world."



"What if I want things that would hurt other people?"



I so didn't want to be having this talk, but looking into his face, I knew that this was part of the demon that had driven him to nearly destroy himself, and us. "If it's going to permanently maim, scar, or kill someone, you don't do it. Outside of those parameters you talk to your lover and see what they want to do. What they're willing to do."



He was frowning at me. "No maiming, scarring, or killing, and everything else is okay? Just like that."



I shook my head, "No, everything else that your partner says 'yes' to, is okay. If you're on top, dominant, then you have to hold it together and make sure it's all safe and not too scary."



"I want it to be scary," he said.



I shrugged. "I said, 'not too scary.' Through... friends, I'm beginning to understand that a little fear goes a long way as foreplay."



"You don't mean friends, you mean Nathaniel."



"If I'd meant just Nathaniel, I'd have said just Nathaniel. He can't teach me how to be a good top. To learn to be dominant you've got to talk to a dominant, not a submissive."



"You sound like you've researched it."



"Most of the wereleopards in my pard are into bondage and submission. I can't be a good Nimir-Ra for them if I don't understand them."



He looked at me, considering something. I wasn't sure exactly what he was thinking, but at least it wasn't sad or angry. At this point I'd take almost any emotion that wasn't one of them. "I know that before today you weren't fucking Nathaniel. I was in your mind, and I know. You really did research to try to understand your leopards, not just for your lover."



"You sound surprised," I said.



"Because Raina was our lupa for so long a lot of the werewolves are into BDSM, too, but I learned everything I ever wanted to know about it from Raina and Gabriel, and their accomplices."



I almost didn't say it, but he said he'd come to me for the truth. I'd see if he really wanted truth, or just some of it. "Richard, you say you like fear with your sex. You like the game of fear, and you like your sex rough."



He was looking at me, the look was a warning. Those dark brown eyes were willing me not to finish, but if I didn't tell him, who would?



"You enjoy the scene, too, Richard."



"I don't--"



I held up a hand. "You don't do what Raina and Gabriel and some others did, but you can be a little in without being a sexual sadist. Some people think just enjoying teeth and nails during sex is sadistic."



He was shaking his head over and over. If it hurt the scratches on his face, he didn't show it this time. "Just because I like teeth and nails doesn't mean I'm like that. I'm not like them."



"If you mean Raina and Gabriel, no, you're not. But you didn't run from me just because you thought I was bloodthirsty. You ran because with me you couldn't keep pretending."



"Pretending what? I'm not pretending anything."



"It's not just you that's been pretending, Richard."



"Pretending what?" His anger started to fill the room, hot and close, like a storm that hadn't broken yet.



"I like teeth and nails during sex. Hell, I like biting alone without much sex. I like the feel of flesh between my teeth."



He looked away. "That's my fault, and Jean-Claude's. It's our hungers in you."



"Maybe, but they're still in me, and it's still something I enjoy. I may never be as comfortable around the scene as Nathaniel is, and that worries me, because if he's mine, then I want him to be happy. But I've had to stop pretending that I don't like rough sex. Jason said that I like dominant men, because they sort of take charge, and I don't have a choice. The reason I was able to avoid Nathaniel for so long was he tried to get me to do all the moves. I need a little dominance play, or I don't play. I thought he was crazy, but it's been a busy twenty-four hours, and I'm tired of running."



He looked back at me. "Running, running from what?"



"Same thing you are, myself."



"You're not--"



I stopped him with a hand again. "Yeah, I was. Maybe I still am. There are parts of my life that I don't want to look at. Someone told me that it's okay that I like two men in bed with me. I argued with them, Richard. I argued that, no I didn't." I took two steps closer to him. "But arguing is pretty silly, don't you think?"



"I don't know what you mean."



"I'm dating Jean-Claude and Asher. I was dating you and Jean-Claude."



"Not at the same time in the same date," he said.



I waved it away. "Fine, I'll leave you out of it. But I'm still dating Jean-Claude and Asher. I'm living and sharing a bed with Micah and Nathaniel. Yes, it was sort of accidental. I didn't try to get into either situation on purpose, but I'm there. And now with Damian and Nathaniel, I've got another threesome where I'm the only girl. Not on purpose, but after awhile, Richard, arguing that I don't enjoy two men together with me just sounds silly."



"Do you?" he asked.



I didn't owe him the answer, but maybe I owed myself one. I'd only admitted it to myself seconds ago. "Yes, being in the middle of two men just flat does it for me. Just the feel of them on either side just flat does it for me." I waited for the blush to start, or at least the embarrassment, but it didn't. It was true, and it was okay. I was okay. I had men in my life that thought it was okay.



Richard looked at the floor, as if whatever he saw in my face he didn't want to see. Or maybe there was something in his face he didn't want me to see. "I could never do that."



"No one's asked you to."



He looked up then, and his anger lashed out, almost like he'd laid a hot whip across my skin. I jumped from the feel of it. "Ow," I said.



"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, but the hell you say, no one's asked me."



"Alright, to my knowledge no one's asked you."



"Everyone, everyone in the preternatural community, whatever animal, or thing they are, thinks that I was doing Jean-Claude and you. That we were some happy little m¨¦nage ¨¤ trois."



"I've run into that rumor," I said. "You know what you were doing, and who, so what does it matter?"



He let out a shadow of that inarticulate scream he'd done before. "Anita, how do you think I feel when almost every leader in this town that I have to do business with thinks I'm shagging the Master of the City?"



"Are you saying that people thinking you're bisexual hurts your standing as a leader?"



"Yes."



"It doesn't seem to hurt Jean-Claude's," I said.



"That's different."



"I don't think so."



He made fists, and that hurt, and he made that sound again. "You don't understand, Anita. You're a girl, and you don't understand."



"I'm a girl, and I don't understand. What does that mean?"



"It means it's still more socially acceptable for a girl to be bisexual than it is for a man."



"Who says?" I asked.



"Everyone!" His anger flared outward like hot water, and it was about waist high, and rising.



"You're homophobic," I said.



"I am not."



"Yeah, you are. If it didn't bother you so much that people thought you were bisexual, then you wouldn't care what they said. You'd know the truth, and it would be enough." I moved closer to him, pushing through the heat of his power, his anger, his frustration. "Besides, what's wrong with being bisexual, or homosexual, or whatever? What does it matter, Richard, as long as you're happy and no one is getting hurt?"



"You don't understand," he said.



I was standing close enough to touch. Standing so close that his power bit and sizzled almost against my skin, as if the robe wasn't there. God, he was so powerful, more than the last time I'd touched his power. He'd gained from Jean-Claude and me, just like Jean-Claude had, like I had. If we could get our triumvirate to truly work the way it was meant to, no one would touch us, no one would dare.



That one thought wasn't my thought, not exactly. Jean-Claude wasn't awake yet, I'd have felt it, but the thought was more his than mine. I remembered last night at the club, and how we'd been joined tighter, closer, than ever before. I'd done things last night that hadn't been possible before. I'd reached new levels of power both with Jean-Claude and with my own abilities. I'd also had sex with a vampire I'd known less than two weeks, and only Requiem's gentlemanly ways had kept it to one. That wasn't like me, and standing this close to Richard's pain, I was thinking about the power and not the cost to him. That wasn't like me either. But they were both very like Jean-Claude.



"What's wrong?" Richard asked. "You've thought of something."



"Just wondering what other parts of Jean-Claude I'm carrying around inside myself."



"You told me, the ardeur, the blood lust."



I shook my head. "I've never been very practical with relationships, or sex, and lately, like the last twenty-four hours, or so, I have been. At least a lot more practical than I've ever been before."



"Is it true that you had sex with two of the new British vampires at Guilty Pleasures last night?"



"My, my, the rumor mill does grind fast."



He relaxed, some tension going out of him. "Then it was just a rumor."



I sighed, and was getting tired of doing that, but it seemed like Richard just brought it out in me. "Half true."



"Which half?" he asked.



I didn't like the look on his face. It wasn't angry exactly, which should have been an improvement, but it wasn't neutral either. "One vampire, not two." I shook my head. "But you know what? I don't think I owe you an explanation, Richard. I don't keep track of the swath you're cutting through your own pack, and Verne's pack when you're in Tennessee."



He was looking at me, studying my face, as if he was trying to figure out what I was hiding. "If you weren't ashamed of it, then you'd just tell me."



"Richard, you aren't my dad, or my boyfriend. I don't owe you an explanation about who I do, or don't, sleep with."



"You slept with Nathaniel for four months before you had sex with him. What changed? Why these two vampires, why now? I heard it was a hell of a show last night, what the hell happened?"



"Are you asking from some macho possessiveness?"



"No, as the third of your triumvirate. Or should I say, one of your triumvirates?"



As the third of our triumvirate he had a right to know how close we'd come to losing control of Primo and some other choice bits. He had helped me last night, even if it had gone wrong, he'd tried. He'd really tried.



I sat down on the edge of the bed, and he sat on the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest, while I gave him a thumbnail sketch of the near disaster and an edited version of what I'd done to help Jean-Claude feed. I didn't leave much out, I just didn't elaborate.



"I can't believe you fucked Byron. I didn't even think he liked girls."



"He took one for the team," I said, and tried to keep the irony in my voice to a minimum.



He actually blushed. "I didn't mean it that way. I meant, if I was shopping for men for you among the new vampires, he wouldn't have been high on my list."



"Truthfully, he's not high on mine. I mean he's a nice enough guy, but as a friend, not as more."



"Then, why?"



"He was the person that was there, Richard. If I accidentally sucked someone's soul out through their mouth, Jean-Claude thought I'd be less cut up if it was Byron and not Nathaniel."



"Is Primo like some kind of Trojan horse?" he asked, and him asking that made me think better of him, lots better. It was a very good question.



"You mean did the Dragon let Jean-Claude have Primo so she could try and take over here?"



"Or just cause enough destruction that Jean-Claude got up on charges. Or his business was ruined, something. From what Jean-Claude's been hearing from Europe, the council isn't too happy with him."



It must have shown on my face, because Richard said, out loud, "I have been paying attention Anita."



"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I didn't think you had."



"I admit I wasn't before, maybe like a month before, but I am now. I told you, I've decided to live and not die by inches. That means I've got to pay attention to business, and I may not like it. I may hate it, but being part of this triumvirate is business."



"I don't know about Primo. He might be, as you so aptly put it, a Trojan horse. I left one of the wererats on guard outside his coffin. I gave orders that if Primo breaks out, he's to be killed. No third chances, because he's already on his second."



"Why would Jean-Claude bring in something that dangerous?"



"I saw Primo fight, and I saw him heal more damage than any vampire I've ever seen heal. It was impressive. We've got a lot of powerful vamps, but most of them are Belle's line, and that runs high to beauty, seduction, which is great for the clubs. I mean we have some really choice people to strip and to dance with the tourists at Danse Macabre, but if we had a war, a real war, then we have almost no soldiers."



"You have the wolves," he said, "and through two treaties, the wererats."



"Yeah, but it's unusual to have such close ties with other groups. Vamps scouting us for takeover won't count beyond the wolves. It won't occur to most of them that a treaty with an animal that isn't the master's to call will come through when the going gets tough."



"So you approve of Primo being here?"



"No, definitely not, not after last night. I think we should shoot his ass, but I understand why Jean-Claude took the chance. We need some vamps that can fight, not just look pretty." As if on cue, the door opened, and it was my favorite pretty vampire.