Incubus Dreams

56



We both turned to look at the door, though my turn was less turny than Richard's. Jean-Claude was in the doorway wearing the black robe I was so fond of. The one that was edged with real black fur at the lapels, and framed his pale chest so nicely. His long black curls had been combed out, so that he looked fresh and lovely. I still needed a shower. Oh, well.



"I didn't feel you wake. I always feel you wake."



"You are both shielding very, very hard," he said, as he strode into the room. His bare feet were very pale against the dark carpet. "I heard your last comment, ma petite, should I take it as an insult?"



"Sorry, but we need soldiers not seducers. We've got plenty of those."



He gave that wonderful Gallic shrug that meant everything and nothing. It was a graceful movement. Sometimes I wondered if shrug was the right word. If what Americans do is a shrug, whatever Jean-Claude did wasn't the same.



"I told your Nathaniel to go and feed his new and surprising form. He will be even more popular when the ladies see this new shape of his." He was being very pleasant, very casual. His face held a smile, and his movements were graceful and a little flamboyant. He was hiding something. I'd learned long ago that this wasn't the real Jean-Claude. This was one of his many faces that he used when reality would be too harsh, or too shocking, or too something.



"What's up, Jean-Claude?"



"Whatever do you mean, ma petite?" he asked, and came to sit down on part of the bed near me. Part that I'd removed the sheets from, so we were sitting on the relatively clean mattress. The bed bobbed unevenly as he settled on it. He looked at Richard, as the bed moved oddly. "I think you are going to owe my pomme de sang a bed frame, Richard."



Richard actually had the grace to look embarrassed. "I lost my temper, I am sorry for that. I'll replace the frame."



"Good," he crossed his legs, one a little higher than it needed to be, so he could lace his hands around the knee, and expose a line of pale leg. Was he flirting. No, that wasn't it.



It wasn't me who said the next part, but it was like my thoughts came out Richard's mouth--scary. "Cut the act, Jean-Claude, just tell us what's happened now?"



The face he gave us was way too innocent. "Whatever do you mean, mon ami?"



Richard and I exchanged glances that said worlds. Richard spoke for us. "No games, Jean-Claude, remember."



"You are beginning to sound painfully like ma petite."



"Thank you, I'll take that as a compliment."



That earned him a smile and a nod from me.



Richard smiled at me, and it was the first real smile I'd seen on him since he stepped into the room. It was good to see it, and I found that I had one of my own to give back. There, we were all being friendly.



"You're doing your flamboyant, happy, casual act," I said. "Cut the act, and tell us what's up."



"You do realize, ma petite, that Richard has become almost as blunt at times as you are."



"And I'm starting to have moments when I sound like you, Jean-Claude. Let me guess, the closer binding last night has had some interesting side effects."



"Not just us being closer, ma petite, but your binding of a new triumvirate to you. That has upped the side effects, I believe." His face was still lovely, but the nearly pretentious movements were fading, changing to a seriousness that I didn't like seeing. He wasn't happy about something. I didn't know what it was, but it had to be something that he either thought both, or at least one of us, really wouldn't like.



He started by confessing that my being willing to do Byron and feed Requiem was probably his less-finicky tastes coming out through me. I stopped him before he got through it. "If I hadn't fed on Byron and Requiem, you wouldn't have had enough energy to control Primo. He would have slaughtered the audience. My virtue versus the lives of dozens of people, hmm, let me think." I shrugged. "It's okay, though I'd rather not make a habit of it."



"You surprise me, ma petite." But he relaxed against the bed. His posture was still perfect, a lot of the old vamps had good posture, but it was more relaxed all the same.



"I've learned that a little sex isn't a fate worse than death, Jean-Claude."



"Is that all?" Richard said. "Or is there more that you'd rather we don't know, but feel that we need to know?"



"See, see, he is like you now. Two of you, I do not know if I can--"



"Just tell us," I said.



He gave me a small frown. "You seem to have figured out that we are mixing and mingling our abilities in more than just a metaphysical way. I do not know all we will gain, or lose, depending on how one looks at it, only that it is happening."



"I think that Nathaniel and I traded a little dominance and submission." I saw the look on Richard's face, and added, "I mean that ever since we became a triumvirate, Nathaniel seems a little more dominant, and I seem to enjoy being a little more submissive. Admittedly, Nathaniel was trying to be more dominant before, but he really seems to be taking to it." Saying it made me want to squirm with discomfort, but I fought it off. I'd be damned if I'd apologize even by a gesture. I'm nothing if not defiant, especially if I'm uncomfortable.



"Then, apparently, we can expect a mingling of our basic personalities, as well," Jean-Claude said, and he tried for casual and failed.



"This could get really strange," I said, and it was my turn to draw my knees up to my chest, though for Richard, I think it had been comfortable, for me it was comforting myself.



"Is that all the bad news?" Richard asked, and looked directly at him.



"I do not see it as bad news, mon ami, but the two of you might."



"Spill it," I said, knees hugged to my chest.



"You have turned my pomme de sang into his animal form, one of them anyway. I, like you until recently, prefer my food without fur."



I did my best not to look at Richard. "Who did you have in mind?"



"Requiem told me of the amount of blood you lost last night, ma petite. I think it is wiser if you do not donate more quite so soon."



I heard Richard's sigh from where I was sitting, and he wasn't sitting that close to me. "I would say it's always me, but it's usually not. I know that Anita isn't your regular feed, but I know she lets you feed." He put his face against his knees and sighed again. "Fine, but only if Anita is here, too. No just you and me."



"Define Anita being with us?"



"That's not what I said," Richard said.



"Is that not what you meant?" Jean-Claude asked.



Richard seemed to think about it for a second, then gave a small nod. "I guess it is, but hearing you say it, it seems--"



"I'll second Jean-Claude's question, define me being with you guys."



Richard blushed. He didn't blush often, and this was two in one conversation. "I don't mean it the way you make it sound."



"Then tell us how you do mean it, mon ami."



"I don't want. I mean..." he made that sound again, wordless, frustrated. "Why is it that every time I do anything that includes both of you, I always end up feeling like I'm wrong?"



I made one of those mental leaps, because I was remembering Richard's problem with everyone thinking he was, or had been, doing Jean-Claude. I decided to rescue him. He was, after all, going to open a vein for Jean-Claude. That deserved some consideration, considering that his rules about feeding vamps used to be the same as mine. Richard was still trying to explain, and failing.



"Look, I understand what Richard is trying to say."



They both looked at me. Richard doubtful, and Jean-Claude amused, as if he, too, understood Richard's discomfort, but couldn't afford to let the other man see that he saw it. Or maybe something else amused him, you never can tell with Jean-Claude.



"You don't want it to be just the two of you when Jean-Claude feeds," I said.



Richard looked relieved, and nodded.



I did not say out loud, no you're not homophobic, because if Richard wasn't as comfortable with having another man touch him, then he was entitled. I'd never fed a female vamp voluntarily, so who was I to bitch?



Jean-Claude's smile deepened just a touch. "And why is it such a problem for it to be just the two of us?"



I gave Jean-Claude a dirty look, and Richard was back to not knowing how to explain. "Jean-Claude, you know the old American saying, about not looking a gift horse in the mouth?"



"Oui."



"You're checking this one's teeth."



He laughed, that touchable laugh, which, even through the hardest shielding I had, made me shiver, and not from fear. I caught Richard's movement out of the corner of my eye. He'd shivered, too. For the first time, I wondered how much of Jean-Claude's abilities worked on Richard. I was terribly heterosexual, and sometimes I just didn't think outside that box. Richard didn't like boys, so Jean-Claude didn't affect him the way he did me. That's what I'd believed, now I wondered if Richard had more problems with Jean-Claude than I'd thought. If you were terribly hetero, but Jean-Claude's powers could affect you, you had a problem if you were a man. The fact that it had never occurred to me before, proved beyond a doubt that sometimes I just wasn't bright about the men around me.



"But before we get up close, I've got to get this stuff off of me. It's flaking, and I just don't feel clean."



"That would give us time to have the sheets changed, perhaps," Jean-Claude said. He touched the drying, caked sheets. "I have never seen a bed where more than one lycanthrope has shifted. It is, how do you say, a mess."



His English was better than that, even for slang. He was back to being pleased with himself, and I didn't know why. If I dropped shields enough for him to talk inside my head, I'd also have more of Richard in my head. I didn't want that, so I'd have to ask him later, or I'd figure it out. Whatever.



"I'll make the shower quick," I said, and started for the far door.



"If it was him going into the shower," Richard jerked a thumb at Jean-Claude, "I wouldn't believe quick, but you I'll believe."



That one comment made me wonder how much time Richard had spent with Jean-Claude when I wasn't around. I didn't say it out loud, though, I am getting smarter. Richard was uncomfortable enough with Jean-Claude. I didn't need to add to it.



"We will be here when you are finished, ma petite. Hopefully with the bed in better order." He was standing looking down at it, as if he wasn't sure it could really be fixed.



"Why not use your room?" Richard asked.



"Asher is in my bed. Now he is dead, and ma petite finds that disturbing. If he woke in the middle of the feeding, I think you, Richard, would find it disturbing."



Richard stood and just huddled in his jean jacket. "Disturbing. You could call it that." He didn't sound happy, and I wondered if there was some incident between him and Asher I should know about. Probably not. None of my business.



I had to walk back to the bed and hunt for my holstered gun underneath the pillows. I sort of waved it at them both. "I wouldn't want this thrown down the laundry chute."



Jean-Claude waved me toward the bathroom. "Go, shower, ma petite, we will be ready if you are not too quick."



"We" will be ready, he'd said. Didn't I have enough "wes" in my life? I went for the shower and left them debating on whether the bed would hold, or whether it would be safer to simply remove the frame entirely. It wasn't until I closed the door behind me that I thought to wonder why we needed the bed. Jean-Claude could feed on Richard kneeling on the floor, couldn't he? If this was my first chance to touch both men at the same time in months, then I preferred not to be covered in drying goop. But once I was clean, we could still all do it on the floor. We didn't need the bed.



I thought about going back out and telling them that, but didn't. No matter what else, they were both still men, and men feel better when they have something to do. They could straighten the bed and sheets and get everything all neat and tidy. It would keep them from having any more of those awkward silences. Or, that was the hope.



57



When I stepped out of the shower, my black robe was hanging on the back of the door. How had I not seen that, or heard it? If Jean-Claude could do that while I was in the shower, and me have no hint, then I was shielding too tight. In shielding this hard, I was losing some of my awareness of my surroundings. Not good.



I dried off, wrapped a towel around my hair, and put the robe on. I'd have given a great deal for clean underwear, but hell, if I tied the sash tight and the little string tighter, the robe didn't gap. I checked that nothing showed in the mirror but a little upper chest, very proper. I'd washed away all the makeup. I looked pale and clean, and, with my hair up in a pale blue towel, I looked sort of too pale, almost sickly. I started to take the towel down, because I knew I looked good in the robe with my hair down, wet, or not. But I resisted the urge. First, my hair was too wet, and silk doesn't like being wet. Second, I had only one boyfriend in the other room, not two. I wasn't trying to look my best, just help Richard not have a fit about letting Jean-Claude touch him.



I looked at my face, my eyes so dark, and wondered if I could admit, even to myself, that I still cared that Richard thought I was attractive. Yeah, to myself, I could say it, but I left the towel on.



They were arguing about candles when I came out. Jean-Claude had had some brought in for the bedside tables, and Richard was saying, "We don't need candles, Jean-Claude. You're just feeding. That's it."



"I vote with Richard. We don't need candles."



"The two of you are not romantics."



"This isn't about romance, it's about food," I said.



Richard motioned to me. "See, Anita agrees with me."



"Of course, she does, mon ami." Jean-Claude didn't sound too put out, he still had that cat-who-ate-the-cream sound to his voice.



The mattress and box springs sat on the floor, covered in new, bloodred sheets. Even the pillowcases had been changed, so that the bed shimmered scarlet in the subdued light. The bed frame being gone probably explained why Richard had removed his jean jacket and was just in an olive green T-shirt.



"I had not realized how dark Jason's room is," Jean-Claude was saying. "I have no extra places to put lamps, but we could have more light with candles. I would prefer a romantic reason, but in truth, it is simple practicality. I would like more light."



"You're a vampire," Richard said, "you see in the dark better than I do."



"True, but if you were allowed to touch someone who rarely allows you to touch them in any intimate fashion, would you not wish light to see what you are doing?" He gave Richard a look, then his eyes slid past him to me. It was a quick look, but Richard followed it, and suddenly he didn't seem to know what to do with his face, so he turned it back toward the other man.



"Have I missed something here?" I asked, "or am I about to miss something?"



"You miss very little, ma petite."



"Candles are fine," Richard said, still not looking at me.



I was shaking my head, but I felt a small touch against my skin. I knew that touch. I dropped the tiniest edge of my shields. Jean-Claude's voice blew through me like a caressing wind. "Does it mean nothing to you, ma petite, that the mere sight of you in your robe has changed Richard's mind?"



I shook my head and tried to answer back as silently as he did. I still wasn't great at it. What I tried to think back was, "Me in this robe with this towel, is not worth him changing his mind."



"You still do not value yourself, as we value you, ma petite."



There was that "we" again. I started to open my mouth, to add something out loud, when a warm rush of energy danced through my body. It stopped me in midstep. "Talking in someone's head, when the other person isn't allowed into the conversation is rude," Richard said. "It's like whispering and pointing."



I couldn't argue it, but wanted to. "Trust me, Richard, it's not worth repeating."



"I'd like a chance to be the judge of that," he said.



I sighed, for what felt like the thousandth time today. What had I been thinking? I should have told Jean-Claude that we didn't need the bed, that Richard could kneel down and he could just feed. Voil¨¤, and we'd be done with it.



Richard took off his T-shirt. "It's too pale, if you get blood on it, it looks like blood." He explained it out loud, and it made sense, but I was glad he wasn't looking at me when he pulled the shirt off, because seeing him shirtless had its usual effect. I'd said before that the day I could walk into a room and not have my body react to Richard, I knew it was over between us. But hormones are traitorous little bastards. They don't care how broken your heart is, only that there's an attractive man in the room. Shit.



Jean-Claude was moving from candle to candle with one of those long battery-operated lighters. I could never get them to light. He moved effortlessly, from candle to candle, the other hand holding the draping sleeve of his robe back out of reach of the flame.



Richard sat down on the corner of the bed. His blue jeans and the solid line of his black belt looked fine against the red sheets. His tanned upper body looked better, and as if he'd heard me think it, he lay back against the sheets, not flat, but propped on his elbows, so that the shimmering scarlet framed his muscular upper body. There were tiny folds in his stomach, like there are on real people, unless they have washboard abs, and Richard had better things to do with his time than do that many sit-ups. His stomach was flat and perfect, but perfect doesn't mean perfectly flat. Lines are flat, people had curves and bumps and places to explore.



Richard turned his head and looked at me. His face wasn't neutral anymore. His dark eyes held heat, and it wasn't his beast, or at least not just that. It was a look I'd seen before, a look that said he knew exactly the effect he had on me, and enjoyed it. Of late, that look had been to tell me, I know you think I'm gorgeous, and you don't get to touch this anymore. Now, I wasn't sure what the look meant, but I didn't like it.



Jean-Claude moved to the other side of the bed, his tall, black-robed figure breaking Richard's and my stare. When Jean-Claude cleared the way, though, Richard had pulled himself farther onto the bed, so that his legs were no longer touching the floor. So that all six feet one of him was on the bed, framed by sheets the color of fresh blood, and the flickering light of candles.



My mouth was dry. Not good. "I've changed my mind," I said. "You guys don't need me, not really." My voice sounded breathy.



Jean-Claude turned from lighting the last candle. He smoothed the sleeves of his robe down around his long-fingered hands, and stood looking at me. His eyes glittered like dark sapphires, catching the flickering light in a way that human eyes just didn't. "Ah, but we do, ma petite. We most certainly do. You are the bridge between us. You are the third of our power. Does that sound like someone we do not really need?"



"I don't mean like forever, just not now, not here. I mean, you can feed without me here. You can..." I was having trouble concentrating.



Richard rolled over onto his stomach, and he did a little head movement that showed me that his hair had grown out just enough to fall a little forward around his face. Not long, but thicker than I'd thought. The candlelight didn't dance on his jeans, but Richard's body in tight jeans didn't need anything else, it was sort of self-explanatory.



"I'm going now. I'm leaving now. Yep, that's what I'm doing." I was babbling, and I couldn't stop it. But I did start for the door, so many points for me that I can't count that high.



Jean-Claude called, "Ma petite, do not go, please."



I turned back, and I don't know what I would have said, because he'd sat down on the bed, but he'd done something to the top of his robe, so that it gapped, and I could see almost his entire chest framed by the black fur of the lapels. The burn scar looked very black against the white of his skin and the shimmering black of the fur. His nipples were palest pink, and from that alone, I'd have known he hadn't fed. His hand touched his chest, as if he knew where I was looking. The hand moved down, and so did my gaze, so that I looked at the flat line of his stomach, the line of dark hair that started just below his navel, and swept down to vanish into the shadow of the robe. I had an almost irresistible urge to go over there and rip open the sash and see his body pale and perfect against the dark of the robe and the crimson sheets. I knew just how he'd look against it all, because I'd seen it before. That thought moved my gaze to Richard, because I'd never seen him against red silk. I'd never seen him by candlelight.



He rolled onto his side as I watched, propped up on one elbow, one arm slung low across his hips, as if to bring my attention to his jeans and what I knew was in them. But no, Richard wasn't that aware of his body, at least not for seduction. It was something Jean-Claude would have done, not Richard. Then I had one of those horrible thoughts. What if one of the things that Richard had gained with the tighter binding of the marks was some of Jean-Claude's skill at seduction. Oh, that just wouldn't be fair.



I closed my eyes and started for the door again. It was better if I couldn't see either of them. Jean-Claude called, "Ma petite, you are going to hit the wall."



I stopped abruptly and opened my eyes, and was inches away from the wall. The door was about two feet to my left. Great, just great.



"Ma petite, do not leave us." His voice crawled through the tiny hole I'd made in my shields for him. It crawled inside and played along my skin, made me shiver, and God help me, I turned back and looked. Stupid me.



Jean-Claude had crawled up on the bed, near the pillows. He was lying full length across the red silk, with the robe gaping open, barely covering anything. His white, white shoulder was framed at the top with scarlet silk. His long legs spilled half in the black robe and half on the scarlet of the sheets. Only the barest fringe of fur covered his hips.



Richard was still on his side. They were lying in almost identical positions, except that Richard's head was pointing away from the door, and Jean-Claude was angled toward it.



"This isn't fair," I said. "Not both of you, not at the same time."



"Whatever do you mean, ma petite?" But he looked entirely too pleased with himself to really need to ask.



"You bastard, you knew."



"I knew nothing, but one lives in hope."



I was having trouble breathing, or rather breathing nice even breaths. I was shaking my head, and the towel started coming unwound. I caught it, and stood there with it in my hands. The cloth was wet and cold. I was shivering, but it was only partly from the wet hair sliding down my neck.



"Richard, you are getting your shoes on the silk sheets. Has no one taught you that you do not wear hiking boots on silk?" He didn't even try to make it sound real, it was teasing, but it wasn't Richard he was teasing.



Richard just sat up, bunching his stomach muscles nicely, and put one foot on his jeans and began to unlace the short boots. He didn't look at me while he did it, but he knew I was watching.



I needed to leave now. I really did. I knew that, but somehow I was still standing there when Richard threw his first boot onto the floor. The sound made me jump.



He watched me while he took off the other boot, or watched me, watch him. I felt like one of those little birds that they say are fascinated with the snake's movements. So pretty, so sinuous, so dangerous. He was just taking off his shoes, damn it. It shouldn't have meant this much to me, hell, to anyone.



When both boots had been thrown to the floor, he took off his thick socks without any prompting from anyone. He lay back on the bed on his stomach with his feet naked against the sheets. He watched me over his shoulder with that wave of hair barely curling around his eye. The look managed to be both coy and knowledgeable. Like a fallen angel, innocence and the promise of sin, all in one look. It was a very good look.



It was not a look I'd ever thought to see on Richard's face. It didn't seem very much like him. "How much of this is you, Richard, and how much of it is him?"



He lay flat on the silk and rolled over onto his back in a movement that was doglike and catlike at the same time. Or maybe I'm just prejudiced that dogs don't move with that same liquid grace when they writhe on their backs. He stretched his arms over his head, stretched his whole, long body out from toes to fingertips, stretched until his body shook with the effort, then he relaxed against the bed. He laid his hands across his stomach and smiled at me with that same mix of innocent sin.



"I'm not sure," he said in a voice that was thicker than it should have been this early in.



"Doesn't that scare you?" I asked, and my voice was breathy for a different reason now.



Richard frowned, just a little between those dark, dark brown eyes. Then he shook his head. "I'm not scared, in fact I feel calmer than I've felt in days."



I looked past him to Jean-Claude, who had laid back against the mound of pillows so that the crimson of the sheets framed his black curls perfectly.



"Oh, stop being so damned picturesque. You're messing with his mind."



"Not really."



"What does 'not really' mean?"



"I mean that I did not mean to do it. I am still adapting to this new power level, too, ma petite. I was worried for you earlier today. I was afraid what would happen with Nathaniel and Damian. I thought, I wish she was not so afraid of Nathaniel and what he wants from her. I swear to you that is all I thought, nothing more, but today I find that you have crossed several lines with him that you swore never to cross."



"Are you saying you made me do it?"



"Non, ma petite. I am saying I wished you to be less afraid of what you wanted, and you were. I did not realize that it could possibly have had an effect upon you, until just moments ago, when I simply thought, I wish Richard was not so afraid of what he wants, and now he is not."



"Did you hear all that, Richard? He's using vamp powers on you."



Richard gave me a lazy smile. "I feel calmer, less afraid, less conflicted. I hadn't realized how bad I was still feeling until now."



"Fine, I'm afraid enough for both of us, if you really did mess with me earlier today, then why am I about to walk out of this room?"



"I thought merely that I wished you would be less afraid of what you wanted from Nathaniel, and what Nathaniel wanted from you. I was not so specific with our Richard."



"You wondered if it worked the first time, so you tried it again, and voil¨¤, you have your empirical evidence, because it worked twice."



"Perhaps, or perhaps it is merely coincidence. It will take us weeks, or months, to decipher what is true power and what is simply all of us coming to terms with ourselves."



I didn't like the sound of that, at all. "I can't do this."



"Why ever not?" Jean-Claude asked.



"Because, once I would have given nearly anything to have you both like this. I need to know what this means."



Richard sat up enough to prop himself on his elbows. "You said it yourself, Anita, you're already dating Jean-Claude and Asher, and living with Micah and Nathaniel. You said that the thought of a man on either side of you 'just flat does it' for you. What's one more pair?"



I glared at Jean-Claude. "Do you have like some metaphysical fist up his ass, like he's some kind of ventriloquist dummy, because that doesn't sound like him. That sounds like you."



"Don't talk to him, when you want to talk to me," Richard said. He sat up, and the sleepy smile was gone. "Does it bother me that you're with Micah and Nathaniel and Jean-Claude and Asher? Hell, yes. Does it bother you that I'm with Clair and half a dozen women in my pack?" He looked at me when he said it. I looked back. He finally said, "That was a question, Anita, can I have an answer?"



"Yeah, it bothered me to see Clair, and to meet your girlfriend for the first time, while I was nude. Yes, that was a special treat. I try to know as little about your personal life with the ladies of your pack as possible, so the rest, I didn't know about."



"I felt how much you wanted me earlier at your house, and you know how I felt about you. So let's not pretend anymore about that."



I hadn't known we were pretending, but I didn't say it out loud. "I don't know what you mean by that, Richard."



"It means we both want to be able to touch each other again. You fucked Byron for God's sake. Why are you okay with doing him, and not about this--us?" He motioned as if taking in the whole bed. I didn't think the "us" meant him and me. For the first time from Richard, I was pretty sure that he was talking about him and Jean-Claude.



I clutched the cold towel and tried to say out loud something that made sense. "I'm not"--change that--"Byron was emergency food. Once upon a time, I thought you and I were going to be it for each other. When you dumped me, it broke me up. Touching you is still not like touching other people for me."



"I feel the same way. You know I do," he said.



"I know you want me, but I also know that you'll be ashamed later. When Jean-Claude isn't there to calm your fears, you'll start to drown in them again." I laughed. "God, for the first time I understand what Asher was saying about me and the ardeur. I don't want this to be a good time now, then we go back to cutting each other up. I couldn't bear it." There, that was the truth. I had a glimmer for the first time why some people do casual sex with people they don't care about. If you don't care, and it goes horribly wrong, it's not that important.



"I don't want us to keep cutting each other up, either, Anita. I really don't." He rolled to the edge of the bed and stood up. The dozen or more candles painted his upper body in shadow and light. I missed the thick fall of his hair around his shoulders, but it was still Richard. Still the man who had come closest to making me try for the picket fence, and the two-point-five kids. "You still need at least one more daytime feed."



The topic change was too quick for me. I pressed myself against the door, so that the doorknob was in reach. If I had to run for it, I wanted to hit the door, not the wall. "Yes, though I found out that I can feed on human form, then feed again on the animal form, and it's like two different feeds."



Jean-Claude crawled closer to the end of the bed, the robe more framing his body like lingerie than hiding anything. "So in effect, you now have four daytime feeds, yes?"



"Sort of, right now Nathaniel and I are estimating I need to feed the ardeur about every six hours, or I start draining Damian's life energy. Since I can't feed on the same person every day, that still leaves me short."



"It may leave us, as you say, short, at night even. You'd fought to push your feedings to every twelve hours."



"I don't know, Jean-Claude, but I seem to need to feed more often."



"You are the energy for your new triumvirate. It takes energy to maintain it."



Richard turned and looked at the other man. "Are you saying that Anita and I drain energy from you?" He turned back to me before he got his answer, and the look on his face said he wasn't happy with the show Jean-Claude was putting on.



"Not precisely, but in a way, oui. All power comes with a price, Richard, and that price can be high."



"I think until I understand how to distribute the power among the three of us, that it's every six hours. I hadn't thought about the fact that only you and Asher feed me at night. Shit." I said the last with feeling.



"You have Damian now," Richard said. "Won't three be enough?"



I looked at him, tried to see jealousy, or anger, but he seemed to have offered it as simply a fact. "I don't know, maybe."



"I trust ma petite to control what she can," Jean-Claude said, nearly from the end of the bed, the robe sliding over his upper body until almost everything above the still-tied sash was naked to light. There was something about the way his body caught the flames, shining and pale, almost unreal, as if he were some kind of living work of art, that you would touch and he would fade, too beautiful to be real.



Richard snapped his fingers, and the sharp noise brought my attention back to him. He was frowning. "Are you actually turning me down?"



This was too hard a question for me. I closed my eyes so I couldn't see either of them. "Not exactly, but I need to know what to expect, Richard. I need to know what this changes."



"Every third day or so, I come to your house, and you feed the ardeur."



I opened my eyes then. "Just a little sex, and that's it."



"What do you want from me, Anita?"



I pushed away from the door, because now I was getting angry. "Not dating, just fuck-buddies, is that it?"



"You're living with two men now, I don't think there's room for me in your life."



What I wanted to say was, if you can just fuck me and nothing else, then we were never really in love. What I said out loud was, "It's not just the sex I miss, Richard. I miss weekend movie marathons. I miss going places with you. I miss you, not just your body, Richard." I almost kept the next part to myself, but I had to know. It was time. "Do you miss me, Richard, or just my body?"



I managed to make it neutral, very neutral. Brownie points for me.



He looked down, and emotions fought across his face. His power flared like a warm wind, then died down. When he looked at me, there was pain and anger in his eyes. "You're the one who said it first, Anita. We don't work as each other's one and only. I'm working hard to accept my life as it is, but I can't live like you do. I still want one woman to be my forever person. I still want marriage, and maybe kids. I want a life, Anita. I know now that I can't have what I want with you." He reached out toward me, then his hands curled into fists. "But I miss you. Not just the sex. I miss the smell of you on my pillow, on my skin. I owe you an apology. When everything happened in Tennessee, I blamed my beast first, then I blamed you. It took six weeks of therapy to get me to see that I was pissed at you for saving my mother and brother when I couldn't do it."



"You would have given your life to save them," I said.



"Yes, but then we'd all be dead." It wasn't just pain in his eyes, it was anguish. The kind of emotion that eats you up and spits you back out. "You did horrible things, Anita, horrible things to find out where they were in time. You tortured a man, cut him up to get the information. I couldn't have done that. I wouldn't have let anyone do it in front of me. It wasn't just that you saved them and I didn't, it was when I heard all that happened, I realized that even if I'd been there with you, they would have died. My mother and Daniel would have died because I wouldn't have let you do what was necessary to save them."



I just looked at him, because I couldn't think of anything good to say. I wasn't proud of what I'd done in Tennessee, not all of it anyway, but I didn't regret any of it, because to save Charlotte and Daniel, I would have done worse. My only true regret had been that I didn't get there before they were raped and tortured. I would go to my grave regretting that part, because I'd seen Charlotte break into tears in her kitchen. She would say, "I don't know why I'm crying. So silly." It wasn't silly, and I'd recommended a good therapist I knew. The one I usually recommended to people wanting to join the Church of Eternal life, as a forever member.



"You're the Bolverk for my pack. The evildoer, the one who does what the Ulfric won't, or can't do. Raina was Bolverk for Marcus."



"Yeah," I said. See, I could still talk, but I still didn't have anything good to say.



"I want the white picket fence, Anita, and I know you don't."



"It's not that I don't want it, Richard, it's that it's too late for me. My life won't fit in that picture."



He nodded. "I know, and maybe mine won't either, but I still want to try. There are Ulfrics that have a wife and family separate from the pack. I've been trying to find a new lupa for the pack, and no one measures up. No one is you."



I was back to not knowing what to say, so I said nothing. I rarely got in trouble keeping my mouth shut.



"I think the reason your beast got out of control today is that you've been spending too much time with just one animal. I think if you have personal contact with something besides leopards that your beast will go back to being just amorphous, more metaphysics than physical. I want your permission to send some of the wolves over to bunk with you."



"Richard--"



"I don't mean fuck them, but sleep with them. Or take some wererats home, pick an animal, but if your power only touches leopards, it's going to think it's a leopard."



"And you're one of the wolves that will be stopping by?" I couldn't keep the irony and the unhappiness out of my voice.



"I don't mean it to be casual, Anita. I mean, be our lupa. Bring the leopards with you, and they can hunt with us on the full moon."



"I'll be your lupa, which means, what? What changes?"



"We're a couple within the lycanthrope community. You'll have more contact with my wolves outside of just crisis situations. Micah has really been working his tail off helping everybody out. We need at least one other person full time on the hotline. He's running himself ragged."



"I didn't know you were keeping track."



"I'm trying to pay attention, Anita. I'm trying to see what's there, not what I want to be there. I couldn't share you the way Micah shares you with Nathaniel, not every day, every night. I don't think I could tolerate you dating Jean-Claude and Asher. I certainly wouldn't be able to play blood donor on as regular a basis as Micah and Nathaniel do."



I just blinked at him, because this was a talk I never thought I'd have with Richard. It was way too logical. "I agree with everything you said in that last bit. But it doesn't change anything, does it?"



"I felt the power of your triumvirate with Damian and Nathaniel. Damian's not a master, and Nathaniel is no Nimir-Raj, but the three of you together are an amazing amount of power. What would we be, the three of us, if we did this right? If we did this the way it was meant to be done?"



"That so doesn't sound like you," I said.



"Tell me you haven't thought about it since you did the other triumvirate?"



I couldn't in all honesty, so I didn't try. "I felt what Jean-Claude and I could do at his club when Primo got out of control. I felt what Jean-Claude could do when I let him feed the ardeur in a way that was closer to a full feeding with other women. So, yeah, I thought about it, sort of."



"You said it yourself, Anita, we don't have enough soldiers. We need to look strong and not just for the vampires that might want this territory. Our pack has a bad rep, thanks to me, and Raina and Marcus before me. My reputation is shit among the other Ulfrics. They think I'm weak, and I've had some scouts from other territories that have too many dominants and not enough land. So far our pack is so screwed up that they leave without a challenge. No one wants the mess I've made of it. But as I get a better handle on my wolves, that may change. If we all joined together the way you and Jean-Claude did last night, if we were really a triumvirate of power, no one would touch us, Anita, no one would dare."



It was almost a direct quote from something I'd thought earlier. I looked past him to Jean-Claude. "We're parroting what you've been thinking for months, aren't we?"



He shrugged those lovely bare shoulders. "Oui, but I did not put the thoughts there, ma petite. I believe that both of you have come to the same conclusion at the same time. Is that so hard to believe?"



"I don't know," I said, and I was tired. Tired of the games, tired of hurting, tired of being scared.



Richard lay back on the bed, one knee up, the other down, so that he looked winsome as hell against the red sheets. "I'm scared again, Anita. I don't want everything we're building to go down in flames, because we're mad at each other. Let Jean-Claude take the edge off my fear. It felt great."



I looked past him to the vampire who was still draped against the pillows. "Did you pull back from his mind?"



"Non, ma petite, he simply fought, a little, and I was cast out. Both of you have the power to thwart me if you wish to."



"I don't wish to," Richard said, and that smile came back. It was lazy, and sleepy, and filled his eyes with that knowledgeable innocence again. I realized in that moment that it wasn't Jean-Claude's look, it was Richard if he wasn't afraid, or angry, or conflicted. It was what he might be if he didn't get in his own way all the time.



"Ma petite." Jean-Claude raised his hand toward me. "Join us."



I was shaking my head.



Richard reached out toward me, too. "You want to, you know you want to."



"My life is as close to working as it ever has been, I don't want that to go to wrack and ruin, either."



"I'm not offering to go back to what we had, Anita. I understand that that won't work for us. You are harder and more ruthless than I will ever be, and I can let you be that, but not if you're my only sweetie. I need a little distance from the worst of it, so I can pretend a little. Not much, but just enough so I don't lose my mind." He snuggled back until his head was resting against Jean-Claude's side. Jean-Claude was all black fur and velvet against white skin. His hair spilled around his naked upper body like a dark dream. He turned his head so he could look at Richard lying there. Richard was all tan and jeans, and seemed to burn with how very alive he was. They looked like they'd stepped out of two very different porno movies.



Jean-Claude looked up at me, and there was a pleading in his eyes. Without a word, he asked, "Please, ma petite, please do not spoil this."



"No fourth mark," I said.



"Agreed," Jean-Claude said.



"For now," Richard said.



I looked at him.



"Right now a lot of things seem like a good idea. No, don't frown, Anita, if a little vampire magic can take the edge off my anxiety, I'm all for it. It works better than the pills the doctor gave me."



"Lycanthropes' bodies work too fast for most medicines to stay in the body long enough to help," I said.



"I know," Richard said, and he raised his head up just enough that he was resting directly on Jean-Claude's bare back. It was probably just as well that he couldn't see Jean-Claude's face when that thick hair touched his skin. He probably wouldn't have liked any man looking like that because of him.



"Come, ma petite, let us be a true triumvirate at last. Be lupa in more than just name for Richard and his pack. Keep your living arrangements as they are, but allow Richard to visit."



"While he keeps searching for Ms. Right among the human population."



"You will have your men, and he will have his woman. It is fair, ma petite."



I wasn't sure how I felt about the fairness of it. "I don't know how I feel about all of this, some great, but others, I don't know if I'll be able to live like that."



"We can but try," Jean-Claude said.



Richard held his hand out to me. "Anita, please, please, if you leave, you know I won't stay. You were able to let Jean-Claude get closer without me being there to buffer it, but I need you to help me." He pushed up to his knees and held out his hand. "Please, Anita, I promise not to run, no matter how dark my fantasies get."



"Just feeding for Jean-Claude and some slap and tickle?" I asked, and couldn't help but sound suspicious.



Richard glanced back, and he and Jean-Claude had one of those rare guy moments. The looks they exchanged said plainly that that hadn't been what they had in mind. Jean-Claude said, voice mild, "If that is all you wish from us, we can restrain ourselves."



I closed my eyes. Was that all I wished from them? No. Was that all I could stand right now? Maybe. It was a wonderful offer. It seemed to fix most of the problems that we'd raised with the new power, so why was I still hesitant? "You know, finding a wife that would be okay with you sleeping with another woman isn't going to be easy."



"Nothing worth doing is easy," Richard said, "and maybe I'll find that the white picket fence isn't for me, after all. All I know is that right now, right this moment, I know what I want, and what I want is you."



A lot of women would have run to him, thrown their arms around him, and said something like, "Oh, Richard." But that just wasn't me. What I was thinking was that if Clair had been his little fuck-buddy, he wouldn't be here now. He wouldn't want me, now. I dropped the towel on the floor and was shaking my head. "I'm not sure this is a good idea."



Richard was still holding his hand out to me. "Neither am I."



"Then why are we doing it again?"



"Because we want to."



"Doesn't seem like a good enough reason." But I moved, slowly, toward the bed.



"Because when I'm near you, all I can think about is the smell of your skin, and the way your hair spreads like black foam on my pillows. Because when I'm near you, all I can remember is how your body feels against mine. I have to be a bastard to you, so that I don't fall down at your feet and beg you to take me back. Tell you that it wasn't you I hated. It was me, and I'm sorry that I took that out on you. Sorrier than I can say. That you had the courage to make a life that worked for you, regardless of how far that life was from where you wanted it to be. Help me have the courage to do the same, Anita. Help me be who I am." He moved his hands just a little closer to mine. His fingers brushed mine. I think I would have jerked away like you do when your skin brushes something so hot it will burn. But he grabbed my hands, wrapped them in the warmth of his hands. His hands that were so much bigger than mine, so that he could hide my hands in his, as if I were a child. I'd never really liked that about Richard. He was so much bigger than me, that sometimes I felt overwhelmed. Like now.



I'd learned a long time ago that if something sounds too good to be true, it is. If someone promises you everything your heart desires, they lie.



He drew me into the circle of his arms, so that the front of my body was pressed against his. He buried his face against my chest, still covered by silk, but the weight of his face against me made me close my eyes, and when I opened them, I was looking at Jean-Claude. He looked not at Richard's bare back, but at me, at my face. I watched him be afraid. Be afraid that I'd say, no.



Richard rubbed his face against the silk, and his breath came through the cloth like something that should have burned, but it didn't. It made me shiver as if I were cold, but held in the circle of his arms with his breath hot on my skin, I felt as if I would never be cold again. I couldn't stop my hands from stroking his hair. Still woefully short, but thick and heavy, and just... Richard's.



Jean-Claude was on his knees. He didn't raise his hands, but he put the word please into his face, those eyes. His voice whispered through my head, "Ma petite, we endanger everyone that depends on us by this hesitation. Everything we have worked so hard to build hangs upon the next challenge to my power, or to Richard's. If we do not embrace our power as a triumvirate, there will come a night when someone sweeps over us and we will not prevail. The worst that could happen is not that Richard may come to your bed, then come no more, or that you may grow discontent with Micah and Nathaniel. The worst is that we are dead, and our people will be at the mercy of others that do not love them." He held his hand out to me. "Come to us, ma petite, come to us, and let us build a fortress behind which our people, all of our people, may be safe." That last he said out loud.



Richard raised his face enough to gaze up the line of my body. "Please, Anita, don't punish everyone because I've been a bastard."



Jean-Claude was close enough that I could have taken his hand, while Richard still held me in his arms. "Please, ma petite, if there is word or deed that would move you, I would say it, or do it. Tell me only what to say, or what to do, and it is yours."



I took in a lot of air, and let it out slow. I reached out and let his fingers brush mine. He came that fraction closer so he could take my hand, and that was the deed. He took my hand, and I knew that nothing he'd whispered in my head had been a lie. What would I do to keep my leopards safe? Anything. What would I do to undo the damage that Richard had done to his wolves? Almost anything. What would I do to keep Jean-Claude's vampires from being at the mercy of masters like Belle Morte? Anything.



A night of metaphysical, or not so metaphysical, sex, with one man that I loved and another man that kept breaking my heart, so I must love him, too, or he couldn't keep doing that, seemed a small enough price. Or maybe I just wanted to be with them both in a bed for the first time. Yes, the first time, contrary to all the rumors. Maybe I feared the chance would never come again, and I simply didn't want to be the one who said no. Maybe.