Danse Macabre (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #14)

54

HE PUT US both on our knees on the couch, me facing away from him. His hand wrapped in my hair, hard enough to hurt, drawing my neck back in a clean, straining angle. He pressed his body against the back of mine, used his hips to raise the short skirt so I could feel his body against my bare ass. He plunged his hand down the front of the corset, so he could grip my breast, tight and hard. It made me cry out. He plunged his body against mine, but without blood, he was still soft.

He whispered in my ear, "Your blood will make me a man, again. It will fill my body with life, so that I may fill your body with life."

There was something about what he'd said that should have bothered me, but I couldn't make the thought form. He'd rolled my mind in a blissful rush, and I couldn't make my thoughts march to logic. All the logic I had was in his hands, in the soft push of his body, the growing tension as he held me.

Something stabbed through that lustful calm. Damian reached out to me with a silent scream. "Anita, damn it, feed!"

It made me slump in Asher's arms.

"What is wrong?"

"Let me feed with the first bite. Let me feed with your power."

"Damian is fading." He made it a statement.

"Yes." My voice was breathy, and not for any good reason.

"I will not fight your power, Anita. I will let you take me, then I will take you."

"Yes, but please hurry, please..."

He was too tall to stay pressed as he was, and bite me. He had to ease his body back enough to fold that six-feet-and-change frame over me. His hands tensed in my hair and on my breast. The sudden pain seemed to send me back into his gaze. My breath was short and eager, when he struck. There was a moment of pain, then it was gone, washed away in the first orgasm.

Asher's bite was pleasure. It was his gift, his power, and that power tightened my body, and exploded like a wave of warm pleasure across my skin. So much pleasure, so much, and as long as he fed, it would be wave after warm, thrilling wave. It felt so good, so good, that it spilled out my mouth in long, ragged screams. Somewhere in all of it, the ardeur rose, and fed. It fed through his mouth, his teeth on me. It fed through his hands on my body. I poured the spill of it into Damian, felt him sit up so hard in the chair, that he almost fell off it. Nathaniel steadied him, and got a taste of that pleasurable power.

I fought the energy, fought to send only food, and not the nearly overwhelming pleasure. To send only so much, and no more. It was like trying to meditate in the middle of sex; no wonder I wasn't better at it.

Asher drew back from my neck, breathing hard. "You took a great deal." He sounded shaky, and his bite didn't necessarily cause him pleasure, so that wasn't it.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

He let go of me, and I slumped forward onto all fours, head down. "God, Asher, God."

The couch moved as he shifted position, and the next thing I felt was his hands on my hips, pulling my skirt up. He pressed the tip of himself against me, and there was nothing soft about him now. He was hard, and ready, pushing against me.

"Do you still want me to pierce you twice?"

I should have said no. I'd missed so much of the evening. But I didn't want to say no. I wanted to say yes. I tried not to think about Asher much. One, it could cause mini-orgasms at odd moments. One of the side effects of his powers. Two, because I understood why people had been willing to trade everything away just for one more night of the pleasure that only Asher could bring. The rest of the metaphysical sex was great, but it was the affection I had for the people involved that made me want to be with most of them. Emergency food being the exception. I loved Asher, but it wasn't love that made me want to be with him. If I had been less stubborn, I might have chased after him simply for the pleasure. I stayed away from him when I could, because no one could quite do what he could, and it scared me.

Which is why I said, "Just fuck me."

"You do not wish me to bring you pleasure with my bite again?"

"Yes, but... we don't have time."

"As you wish." He used his hands to position my hips, and he began to push his way inside me. I was wet, but tight; my body spasmed around him, as he fought to be inside me.

His voice came strained, "So tight tonight, so tight. Forcing me to fight for every inch. I love it."

I just nodded, not trusting my voice. I should have said no to the sex. We'd fed. Jean-Claude needed us to schmooze the crowd. But I didn't want to say no. I could have lied to myself and thought that Asher needed this, this time just the two of us, but that wasn't why I said yes. I said yes because I wanted him inside me. I said yes because I was fighting myself not to beg for another bite. I did want him to pierce me twice. I did want it. I did.

He had himself inside me, as close as his body would let him. He rested a moment with our bodies wedded to each other. He laid his body across my back, letting me support our weight for a moment. His skin was warmer now, alive with the blood he'd taken from me. His hair fell around me like a shining curtain.

"Bite me," I whispered it.

"What?"

"Bite me, while you fuck me, take me, take me as only you can take me." My voice stayed a whisper as if that would make it all right. Make it less weak.

"As only I can take you?" He made a question of it.

"Yes," I said, "yes."

He wrapped his arms around me, forced me to hold all of our combined weight. He hugged me, hard and tight. "You do feel my power."

"Yes," I whispered.

"Are you afraid of it?"

"Yes."

"Afraid of how much you want me?"

"Yes!"

He whispered, "I like that." He raised himself off me, so that the only part of him touching was the part that was deep inside me, and the barest touch of thighs and hips.

He drew himself out slowly, so slowly.

"I'm still tight."

"Yes," he said, "yes, you are." He drew himself out of me, then used his knees to spread my legs wider. It made me lower my head to the couch, pressing my face to the leather. Asher entered me, shallow, just inside, inside over that sweet spot. He started slow and steady, pushing himself in and out, and always over that one spot. I kept expecting him to speed up or go deeper, but he kept that slow, shallow rhythm.

I started moving my hips to help, but he put his hands firmly on my hips, kept me from moving. It was strangely like all the ballroom dancing they'd made me learn for the party. A flexing of the man's hands, a squeeze in one direction or the other, and you knew what he wanted, or thought you did. He wanted me not to move, to let him do the work.

He spread my legs even farther, forced my body at a higher angle. "Up, Anita, I want you up on all fours."

I did what he asked, but my knees were spread so far that my hips protested the angle. It didn't exactly hurt, but it might if we did it long enough. And through it all he kept up that gliding, gentle rhythm inside my body.

The orgasm began to build inside me. To build with each caress of his body just inside mine. Building, building, on the gentle touch of him inside me. Most of the time sex was about the ardeur. The ardeur wasn't gentle. I fed and I fucked because I had to. I realized as Asher took me so carefully, so gently, that it had taught us all bad habits. I loved a good, hard fucking, more even than most women, but just because I could take it didn't mean that that was what I wanted, not always. This, this was perfect. This was what I had been missing in all the frantic sex. All the emergency feeding had made me forget that gentleness had its own pleasure.

I fought to stay where he wanted, and not to move, fought to keep my legs spread, fought to hold the pleasure. "I'm close."

"Then go."

"But..."

"Go," he said.

I might have argued, but he pushed his body over mine one last time and the orgasm caught me. Only his hands digging into my ass kept me from writhing my pleasure around him. He kept me in place, and he kept going, as if I weren't screaming, digging fingers into the leather. So much pleasure, so much pleasure, that my hands needed something to hold on to. I couldn't reach him, so I dug nails into what I could reach.

"Anita, I love you, I love you, I love you!" The rhythm changed. I felt him fight his body, not to lose himself yet. He grabbed my hair and jerked me to my knees with his body still inside mine. It changed the angle, and he didn't try to stay shallow. He used all the length of him, still pushing gently, still fighting his body not to pound into me. I felt the struggle in his chest and arms as he pulled my head to one side and exposed my neck again. "Now," he whispered.

"Please," I whispered.

He plunged his fangs into me, locked his mouth around me, and sucked. He stopped fighting his body, let himself plunge into me as hard and fast as he could. He brought me screaming again, brought me with his body, brought me with his bite, brought me with his power. He came inside me with one last powerful thrust. I raked nails down his arms, and screamed myself hoarse.

He fed at my neck, and as long as he fed the orgasms continued. For me, for him, for us. It was one of the things that made him so dangerous. While you were in the middle of all that pleasure, you could forget. Forget that this was my fourth blood donation tonight. Forget that he shouldn't open his mouth and let the blood pour down my body, because he was too full to take more. Forget that we were supposed to save something to go outside to meet and greet. Forget everything but the feel of him thrusting inside me, until he poured from between my legs, poured over his own body. Forget until my blood poured down my neck to soak into the dress and the diamonds. Forget until hands pulled us apart, and Asher turned snarling to the room.

I didn't snarl. I collapsed onto the couch, because I couldn't do anything else. I lay there like a broken doll, and even my thoughts circled lazily, white edged as if the world were covered in cotton.

Someone rolled me over. Remus's jigsaw face loomed out of the growing dimness. "Anita, Anita, can you hear me?"

I meant to say yes, but the world went black, and I was floating, and I couldn't say anything to anyone.

55

I WOKE UP in the hospital. Not the human hospital, but the lycanthrope hospital. The building that the local shapeshifters keep for just such emergencies. If they'd taken me to the humans, then Asher might have ended up with an order of execution against him. The downside to going to the furry hospital was that the blood they used for transfusing wasn't human blood. If you get the right blood type, humans can take in lycanthrope blood, and lycanthropes can take in human blood, but lycanthropes have trouble taking in blood that isn't their strain of lycanthropy. Since I carry three, I was something of a problem. But since I was also O-negative, there wasn't a lot of choice. It's not the most common blood type around, especially in a small hospital like this one.

Doc Lillian won't actually tell me what strain of lycanthropy she decided to add to my mix, or if she chose one that I already had. She thinks that if I know what it is, it could influence which beast wins. Since my mental process shouldn't have anything to do with it, I have no idea what she's babbling about, but she won't give in, so come next full moon we'll see if my mixed bag of furry picks a winner.

I slept off and on, and when I woke up again, Asher was sitting by my bed. I startled when I saw him, made a little gasp.

He looked away from me, letting all that long hair fall forward to hide his face completely. He wasn't flirting, showing that perfect profile. He was just hiding. "You are afraid of me now." His voice held regret like a light, persistent rain, one you know will go on all day.

I started to deny it, then stopped myself. Was I afraid of him? Yes. Yes, I was. But not for the reason he thought. I touched the bandage at my neck, and from the feel of it alone, I knew the bite wouldn't be some polite pricking. He'd gotten carried away at my neck, as he had elsewhere. It wasn't like collarbone-scar bad, or even the bend of my arm bad, but it wasn't what the old vamps usually did. It felt like a rookie mistake under the bandages.

That made him sit up a little straighter, his arrogance kicking in. "I am sorry that my manner displeases you so." He sounded a little angry; good. It was better than despair.

"You're right, I should be furious with you. And you're right that I've kicked men out of my life for a hell of a lot less than this."

The anger leaked away, and that numbing depression rolled over him again. It was like watching the light fade from him. "Did you ask me to sit so you could grind the knife in deeper?"

"If I want to grind a knife in, you'll know it. I'm just trying to talk." I had to cough to clear my voice. "Is there water?"

Asher looked around the room. It was Remus who found a pitcher of water and a little cup. He poured it, then hesitated, and finally handed it to Asher. The two men had a moment where you could almost feel the battle of wills, then Asher finally took the cup, and came to the bed. He would not look at me as he offered the water with a little bendy straw in it.

The water tasted stale, but it was cool, and felt wonderful in my mouth and throat. I raised my untaped arm to help hold the cup. My fingers brushed Asher's hand. He jumped, as if it had hurt, but I knew it hadn't hurt. "Have I spilled water on you?"

"No, just a little on the sheets."

"You are the only woman except Belle who has ever made me feel clumsy."

Ixion was there with a handkerchief. Asher took it and dabbed at the few spots he'd gotten on the sheets.

"Is that a compliment, or an insult?" I asked. My voice sounded better, less hoarse. It made me wonder how long I'd been unconscious. I didn't ask, because if it had been a long time, then Asher would feel worse, and I'd be more scared. I let it go.

He finished trying to soak the water up, handing the handkerchief back as if he expected Ixion to simply be there to take it. He was, and he did, but the offhand quality of the gesture made me wonder again how long had I been out. "It is neither, just the truth. You have made me feel awkward from the moment I met you."

"I tend to have that effect on ladies' men."

He looked at me then. I tried to read his expression and failed. "I am a ladies' man, am I?"

"Belle Morte made certain that all of you were good with the ladies."

"And the men. Do not forget, Anita, she made certain we knew how to pleasure men, as well."

I nodded, and stopped, because the bandages pinched. "I've grasped that concept, thanks."

"But you are not happy with it."

"More puzzled by it."

He smoothed the sheets where he'd dampened them. I think he was looking for anything to fuss over, rather than what we were doing. I'd never seen him this uncomfortable.

I did what I'd wanted to do since he walked into the room. I laid my hand on his. He went very, very still under my touch. That awful, unnatural stillness, where it feels like you're not touching anything alive. He went away from my touch, but I kept my hand on his. If he thought a little weird vampire shit would make me move, he was wrong.

"Anita," and his voice tried to be as empty as his body, but failed.

"I'm not afraid because you almost killed me. I'm afraid because you almost killed me, and I still want to touch you."

He drew his hand out of mine. He sat down, but he would at least look at me now. "I have rolled your mind, completely and utterly. I have done what you feared that I would do."

"And don't you want to touch me?"

"Yes." He whispered it.

"You were the first one to realize that just biting me helps me gain control over a vamp. I don't think it's just you who's rolled me."

"Are you saying you have gained control of me?"

"I'm not sure what I'm saying. I just know that I don't want you gone. I don't want you to never touch me again. I want us to be together. Beyond that, I don't know."

"Together in what way, Anita?"

"We'll just need a spotter," I said.

"A spotter, what are you talking about?"

"A spotter, like you have in gymnastics. Sex with you is so good we need spotters."

"So dangerous, you mean," he said, and he stared at his hands where they lay loose in his lap.

"I'd do it again, Asher."

He looked up then, and it wasn't a happy look. "Do you really mean that?"

"Yes."

"That should frighten you, and me."

"It does scare me, but it doesn't really scare you, does it?"

"I'm terrified for your safety, but..."

"You've been a very good boy, haven't you?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

I had one of those moments of seeing so deep into another person that it makes the rest of the world seem unsteady for a moment. It wasn't vampire powers, or necromancy, it was just a moment of insight so bright and painful that I couldn't look away. "Look me in the eye, Asher, and tell me that you've never done what you did with me before, and had the woman not survive it?"

He looked away then, those pale eyes hiding from me.

"Asher," I said.

He met my eyes with that blank perfect face, peering through the mess of his hair. "I have done what you accuse me of."

"It's not an accusation," I said, "it was more a statement."

"Do you not think me a monster for it?"

I thought about it. Did I think him a monster? "Did you do it on purpose?"

"Did I go into the lovemaking planning the death of my lover?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's what I mean?"

"No, save once."

"Once?"

"There was a lord from whom Belle desired money and land. He had been diagnosed with a cancer. He was a strong, proud man. He did not wish to die in pain and sickness. He requested I kill him. He wished to die by pleasure, instead of pain. He also felt that if I took his life, it was not suicide, so his soul was strangely safe."

He told the story in an empty voice, as if it meant nothing to him. It was the kind of voice that people use about trauma or tragedy when they haven't dealt with it yet.

"You liked him," I said.

"He was a decent man."

"I don't think you're a monster."

"Why am I not a monster for killing someone to give myself pleasure?"

"Put that way, you would be, but that's not what you did. It's a loop of pleasure, Asher. It's not your pleasure, but hers, mine. I could have said no. There was a point where I knew it was too much, that we should stop."

"I had rolled your mind. You had no free will."

"You can roll me, but I don't stay rolled if I don't want to, not anymore. I didn't want to stop, Asher. Do you think I'm a monster for saying it was one of the most amazing orgasmic experiences that I've ever had?"

"No, not a monster."

"We can have intercourse together alone sometimes, but no biting while we're alone."

"You do not trust me."

"I don't trust either of us," I said.

He almost smiled. "I nearly killed you. I nearly spilled all that precious blood. The sofa had to be destroyed, the carpet taken up. I almost killed you, Anita, not for food, but for pleasure."

"You were in the middle of a major power-up, Asher. An animal to call, at long last."

He glanced behind at the waiting guards. "Hyenas, yes."

"Jean-Claude says that the first time any power kicks in, it's always hard to control."

Asher took my hand. "I would not trade your love for a thousand powers. I would not trade a single strand of your hair for any territory." His eyes were glittery, not with power, but tears.

"I believe you."

"Your new laws say we are citizens, but we are monsters, Anita. If I had killed you with the birth of this new power, I would have followed you soon after."

"You're saying you would have killed yourself?"

He nodded. "I could not have borne it."

"I don't want you dead."

"Nor I you." He knelt and laid his head on my hand. "It was not blood that brought my power, Anita. It was you, you wanting me more than anyone else. In that moment I could feel it. You wanted me, not Jean-Claude, not Richard, not Micah, not Nathaniel, me. You wanted me, my body, my touch, more than anyone else's. I could see into your heart, and I saw only me there." He rose up, tears staining his face faintly pink. "You truly do love me, just me. Not because of memories you share with Jean-Claude. Not out of pity. You love me."

"Yes," I said, "otherwise I'd be wicked pissed about the whole almost-killing-me thing."

"I will never forgive myself for that. Jean-Claude would have been within his rights to slay me for such carelessness."

"He loves you."

He nodded. "Yes, he does. I doubted that, until I realized he was not going to kill me for almost killing you. I doubted everyone's love for me, Anita, but no longer. He loves me, or he would have killed me when he walked into that room and saw what I had done."

So that was it. I almost died. Asher had an animal to call. Jean-Claude didn't kill him for almost killing me. I didn't kill Asher for almost killing me. Jean-Claude has forbidden Asher and me to have feeding sex by ourselves. We didn't argue, because Asher and I both know the darkest secret of all between us. It felt so good, so incredibly good, that we didn't trust each other not to do it again.

I am a succubus. I am a vampire. Maybe not a bloodsucker, but I feed off sex. It isn't just Damian's life that can get drained away if I don't feed. Nathaniel will die. I will die. I think Jean-Claude can protect himself and Richard from me, but I could kill us all if I don't learn to manage my own personal triumvirate of power. London is the front-runner for my new pomme de sang. I wish I liked him better. I don't dislike him, but I'm afraid to bring him home. He doesn't strike me as the domestic type. Requiem is part of the food chain, but he is so not just food. He craves true love. I can't blame him, but I can't help him either. The sex is great, but he scares me. For centuries-old vampires, they all seem so easy to hurt emotionally. Weird.

I wrapped a cross in silk, put that in a velvet bag, and that inside a pillowcase. It seems to be working. No more bad dreams of Marmee Noir. No accidents for my vampire lovers, or me. I'd send Merlin a thank-you note if I had an address.

Sampson is staying in town so I can fulfill my promise to try to bring his powers over. He's letting me recover my strength, and my nerve for it. Nice of him. I made Auggie take Haven home to Chicago. My hands ached to touch him. So dangerous. The local werelions are trying to find me someone else, but I miss Haven. He's a dangerous thug, but I miss him. My lioness misses him. He would be such a bad idea to keep.

I wasn't pregnant, yea! But while I thought I was pregnant, I had unprotected sex with Nathaniel, Jean-Claude, Micah, and Augustine. No one handed London a condom when I fed the ardeur off him. But I've managed to dodge the bullet on those, too. Thank God. Pregnant by one of my boyfriends is one thing; pregnant by Augustine would be a disaster I could not deal with. I think I'll just start taping condoms to my body. Emergency sex comes up, you rip a condom off, and you're as safe as you're going to be. I'm safe from disease because my lovers aren't human, but pregnancy, that is one disease that I'm not safe from. My period is still AWOL. My doctor says there's nothing wrong with me. It could just be stress, or, there is literature about female shapeshifters having interrupted periods until their first full moon. Or, as my doctor pointed out, I am like a metaphysical miracle on two legs, so maybe it's something else. Maybe it's something we haven't even thought of. He recommended I take folic acid because there are birth defects that have nothing to do with werewolves and vampires. I did what he said. He also suggested a therapist, or a vacation. A vacation? Me? Where would I go, and what would I do? Hell, who would I take with me?

I try not to think too hard on the fact that my "vampire powers" gave me Nathaniel and Micah. Hell, gave me to them. Why didn't it work on Richard? Jean-Claude thinks it's because he does not know his own heart's desire. You can only get your wish when you truly know what it is you want. Maybe someday Richard will truly know what his heart needs. He's dating humans exclusively. I'm the only preternatural he's seeing. Richard has informed me he's shopping for his white picket fence.

I'm happy behind my black wrought-iron fence. The one with the pointy spikes on top. White never really was my color.