"No," Requiem said, "it is not. It is something learned through harsh experience."
Speaking of harsh experience, I had to check something. I knelt on the now pristine grave. I laid a hand on the hard ground.
"What are you doing, Anita?" Requiem asked.
"This zombie fought me more than most. It seemed more... real. I'm just checking to make sure that it is back to being bones and rags."
"Why, what happens if he isn't?" Graham asked.
I closed my eyes and opened just a little of that metaphysical hand that I'd had to squeeze back into a fist. "Then the zombie would be trapped down there, thinking, aware, but imprisoned. He won't rot. He can't die." I thrust my power into that cold ground. It was quiet down there, peaceful again. Bones and rags were all that lay underneath. Good.
"Could you really trap someone like that?" Graham asked.
"I don't know for sure, but I don't want to take the chance. I wouldn't want to leave anyone down there like that." I dusted my hands off.
"Is it okay?" Graham asked.
"Yeah, just bones."
"Vampires do not die when buried, either," Requiem said. "There have been accidents where new vampires were buried too deep, or those that were appointed to retrieve them failed."
Graham shuddered. "That's just creepy."
I stood and I almost fell. Requiem caught me, steadied me. "Is that buried alive stuff what they tell bad little vampires?"
He looked at me, and there were suddenly centuries of pain in those eyes. "I, too, have learned from harsh experience."
"Just get me to Guilty Pleasures, and we'll try to avoid adding tonight to the harsh list."
"As my lady commands," he said, smiling, and offering his arm. I took his arm and let him walk me to the Jeep, because I wasn't sure I could have walked that far without falling over. I didn't feel well enough to mark Nathaniel in public. I felt weak and ill, and didn't want to be part of the show, but I also needed to feed, and he'd be furry after the show. Choices, choices, too many damn choices, and not enough options.
42
I was cold by the time we got to the Jeep. Graham had to drive, and I wouldn't ride without a seat belt, so we worked out a compromise. I rode in the backseat with the blanket, and Requiem did his best to cuddle with me while I was strapped into the seat. Which was a lot harder than it sounded.
He started with his arm around my shoulders, his body pressed as close to my side as he could get. The blanket spread over us. He was warm, warm with the blood he'd taken from me, but his wasn't the heat of the werewolf, and sitting side-by-side wasn't as warm as sitting in someone's lap. By the time we'd pulled out of the cemetery I was shivering. A mile or so down Gravois and my body started to do those little involuntary spasms.
Requiem gripped my hand under the blanket. "Your hand is cool to the touch."
"Yeah," I said.
He wrapped his arms tighter around me, and the blanket slid off. He grabbed it, tried to spread it back over us both. "Allow me to unbelt you. Allow me to hold you as Graham did."
"If"--and I had to fight past chattering teeth--"we get in an accident, I could die."
"It is true you are no vampire and couldn't survive a car crash, but it is also true that a vampire that goes too long without a feeding, cannot die. They may whither, as a grape upon the vine, but they will spring back to plump, ripe, life with the first taste of blood. I fear that you will not."
My teeth began to chatter as if I was sitting on snow instead of in a car with the heater on high and a warm man wrapped around me. I was so cold that my muscles were beginning to ache from it.
"Allow me at least to cover more of your body with my own. I know you felt that the position lacked a certain dignity, but allow me this liberty, I beg of you."
I would have said, no, but my teeth were shaking so hard I was afraid I was going to chip one of them. He took the silence for a yes, and slid to the floorboard. He burrowed under the blanket and laid his head against my stomach, his arms wrapped around me.
I fought to tell him, move, but the involuntary muscle movement eased, and my teeth stopped sounding like castanets. He'd been right, with more of his body against mine, it was warmer. Not a lot, but maybe just enough. I was still cold, so cold, as if I were ass-deep in the snow and more was falling all around me. I'd thought freezing to death was an easier way to die. You just fell asleep. This wasn't easy, and I didn't feel the least bit sleepy. A little scared, but not sleepy.
I wanted to be warm. I wanted heat. I needed something warmer.
Requiem's voice came from under the blanket, his upper body completely hidden under the gray folds. "The shivering has slowed."
"I noticed," I said, and it was nice to just be able to talk without risking a tongue injury.
He snuggled his face against me, an oddly catlike gesture. I'd had enough of the wereleopards rubbing over me to know what I was talking about. "I would do anything that my lady required."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, and I was feeling better enough to sound suspicious.
He laughed and pressed his body against my legs hard enough that my knees moved just a little apart. His body was covering my legs, but that one little movement was like the beginning of something. It's hard for most men to keep their thoughts above the waist when they're touching below the waist, no matter how innocently. He was a vampire, but he was still male. I guess I couldn't fault him for thinking about it, as long as thinking was all he did.
"I'm feeling better than I was. I don't think we need any heroic measures."
"The tone of your voice, the stiffening of your body," he said from under the blanket, "such disapproval, as if you think I will try to ravish you."
"Let's just say that I'm not the trusting sort." Though it felt a little silly talking to a lump under a blanket, when the lump was wrapped around my body. It did lack a certain dignity.
He laid his head against the side of my body, because he was too tall to lay his head in my lap with so much of him covering my legs. His hands wrapped around the back of my body, sliding between me and the seat. It was way too intimate for my tastes, and not long ago, when the ardeur was hungry this much up-close-and-personal would have raised it, but there was nothing. Nothing but the warmth and movement of him, and the awkwardness of having a near stranger that close to me. But I could think. I felt like crap, but him this close didn't bring it on. I'd fed on him earlier tonight, and even that thought didn't raise anything through the chill. If I'd felt better, I would have been happy. The ardeur wasn't my master anymore. It couldn't make me do impossibly embarrassing things anymore. Yeah, maybe I had to feed it, but it could be on my own terms. Or close to my own terms.
I sat there with a gorgeous male curled around my body, and smiled. Even cold and aching with emptiness, I was still happy. Still willing to trade that overwhelming heat for this cold waiting. Because it was a waiting that I could feel now. The ardeur wasn't gone. It was like a fire that had burned down to cold ashes, but there was still life in the heart of that dying wood. It just needed a good poke and stir, and there would be flames, oh, yeah.
Just thinking that hard made it curl to life, a tiny flare. I squashed it. Pressed it down. Not yet, not yet.
Requiem raised his head against my body, so that the top of his head brushed my br**sts, but through the leather jacket it wasn't much of a touch. The jacket was bulky enough that it could have been accidental on his part, though I doubted it. If Requiem was anything like Jean-Claude and Asher, then he was very aware of where his body was, and what it was doing. But I let it go. I wasn't that cheap a date for the ardeur anymore. Yea!
I felt Damian. I would like to say, I heard him, or saw him, but that wouldn't be true. I felt him. He was sitting against a wall, and he was cold, so cold. Colder than I'd ever been. I called to him, "Damian, Damian what's wrong?"
I didn't hear him answer, but I felt his body, felt that aching cold at the center of it. Why, what was happening to him? What was wrong? "Damian, what's wrong?"
"Did you say Damian?" Requiem asked.
"Yes, he's hurt. He's so cold, so cold, that he's collapsed against a wall. There are people around him, but I can't see who. He's so cold, so cold."
Requiem knelt upward, pushing his head out of the blanket and meeting my eyes. "You are his master now, Anita, you make him live. Your energy makes him live."