I pulled back from his hand. "Look, my plate is like full to overflowing with guys right now. I'm flattered, thanks for the offer, but no thanks."
"And how happy are you with the two men in your bed right now?" he asked. "You've had sex with Richard now, and the marks are binding you tighter than ever."
"Did everyone know that was a possibility but me?" I asked.
"Jean-Claude forbade me from telling you. I thought you had a right to know."
"I felt Jean-Claude wake this morning before ten. I felt him wake, Damian. I felt the fierceness of his joy, his triumph." I tried to cross my arms over my chest, and the right one wouldn't cooperate. "Damn it to hell."
"I was the servant of my original mistress for a very long time, Anita. The thought of being your servant, anyone's servant, terrifies me." He touched the bandages on my right arm. "But I see them using you, Anita. I see them withholding information from you." He cradled my bandaged hand in both of his. "I swore oaths to Jean-Claude, but it's your power that makes my heart beat, your pulse I can taste like cherries on my tongue."
I drew my hand out of his. "What are you saying, Damian?"
"I'm saying that you shouldn't be the only one of the three that doesn't know what's going on."
"And you can tell me," I said.
He nodded. "I can answer your questions. In fact, if you make them orders, I can't refuse to answer them."
"You're handing me the keys to your soul, Damian. Why?"
He smiled, teeth a dim whiteness in his face. "Because I serve you before I serve anyone else. I tried fighting it, but I can't. So I'm through fighting. I give myself to you willingly, even eagerly."
"If you mean what I think you mean, didn't Asher say something last night about if I had sex with you, Jean-Claude would kill you?"
"Yes," he said.
I looked at him. "I may be good, Damian, but no one's worth dying for."
"I don't think he'd kill me. Jean-Claude has questioned me about the bond I feel with you."
"He has, has he?"
"Yes, and he's pleased. He thinks it's another sign of your increasing powers as a necromancer. He's right."
"Jean-Claude knew you were obeying me without wanting to, and he didn't tell me?" I said.
"He thought it would upset you."
"When was he going to mention this little fact to me?"
"He's the Master of the City. He doesn't answer to me. I don't know what he plans to tell you or when."
"Okay, what other powers can I expect to gain through the marks?"
He lay down on the other side of the pillow he'd gotten for my injured arm. He propped himself up on one elbow, long legs stretched out the length of the bed. "Their physical strength, their sight, hearing. You could gain almost every power they have without giving up your humanity. Though you'd probably have to take the fourth mark to gain the full powers."
"No, thanks," I said.
"Eternal life without having to die for it, Anita. It's tempted many over the centuries."
"I've had too many surprises in the last two days, Damian. I'm not tying myself any closer to Jean-Claude."
"You say that now, but let a few more years pass, and you may change your mind. Eternal youth, Anita. It's not a small offering."
I shook my head. "What else can I expect from the marks?"
"Theoretically, any power they possess."
"That's not typical for a human servant, is it?"
"They all gain some strength, stamina, healing, resistance to injury, immunity to disease and poison. Though again, without the fourth mark, I'm not sure how much of that you've gained. I'm not sure Jean-Claude or Richard know, either, until you pull another rabbit out of your hat."
"Was the munin a surprise to them?"
"Oh, yes," Damian said. He lay his head on the edge of the pillow I wasn't using. He rolled onto his back so he was looking up at me. "Jean-Claude knew of the munin, but hadn't really thought that they were the spirits of the dead and what that would mean for you. Even necromancers of legend don't control the munin."
"The necromancers of legend don't have a bond with an alpha werewolf," I said.
"That's what Jean-Claude thinks, too."
I settled lower in the nest of pillows. "It's so great that he's talking about me to everyone but me."
Damian rolled so that he was staring up at me. "I know how much you value honesty, and in all honesty, Jean-Claude could not have known that you would gain these powers. A human servant is a tool to be used, so it is good if it is a powerful tool, but you seem to be gaining such power that it may, at some point, be questionable who is master and who is servant. Perhaps it is the fact that you are a necromancer."
"Jean-Claude told me before I took the marks that he wasn't sure who would be master and who would be servant because of my necromancy. But he didn't really explain it. I guess I should have asked."
"If he'd told you all this before the marks were offered, would you have taken them upon yourself?"
"I took the marks to save both their lives, not to mention my own."
"But if you'd known, would you have done it?" He rolled onto his side, face so close to my arm, I could feel his breath against my skin.
"I think so. I couldn't let them both die. One, maybe, I could have lost one of them, but not both. Not both, if I could have saved them."
"Then Jean-Claude has kept all this from you for nothing. He's angered you for nothing."
"Yeah, I'm pissed."
"It makes you not trust him." Damian moved that one inch closer until his cheek rested against my upper arm.
"Yeah, it makes me not trust him. Worse yet, it makes me not trust Richard." I shook my head. "I never thought he'd keep anything from me, let alone things this important."
"It makes you doubt them," Damian said.
I stared down at the vampire. Just his cheek rested against my arm. The rest of his body stretched down the length of the bed but didn't touch me. "This doesn't seem like you, Damian."
"What doesn't seem like me?" he asked. His hand slid from where it rested on his side to the sheets. That one pale hand lay between our bodies, not touching, just ... waiting.
"This, all this, it's not you."
"You don't know anything about me, Anita. You don't know what I'm like, not really."
"What do you want from me, Damian?"
"Right now, to put this hand around your waist."
"And if I said yes?"
"Is that a yes?" he asked.
What would Richard say? What would Jean-Claude say? Fuck them. "Yes," I said.
He slid his hand over my waist until his arm rested across my stomach. It would have been natural to cuddle the body after the arm, but he didn't. He kept that artificial distance between us.
I ran my left hand up and down that pale arm, playing over the small hairs on his arm. It felt terribly right to touch him, as if I'd been wanting to do it for a very long time. I didn't want him to hold me. I wanted to hold him. It was a very different feeling than what I felt for Richard or Jean-Claude. Damian was right; it was the necromancy. It wanted to touch him, explore the edges of the power that bound us, the power that animated him.
My own personal power is closer kin to Jean-Claude's than to Richard's. It is a cool power, like an unfelt wind that plays over the mind and body. I let that cool thread spill out through my hand, down Damian's arm. I thrust it into him like an invisible hand, shoved it into that pale body and felt an answering spark deep inside him. I felt my power flare and recognize a piece of itself. Whatever had animated Damian before was gone. I animated Damian now. He was truly mine, which, of course, was not possible.