“Just lucky, I guess.”
I had to smile. “That doesn’t explain how you know about lycanthropes.”
“I had a class in college.”
I shook my head. “So did I, but I didn’t know about shapeshifters collapsing.”
“You’ve got a degree in preternatural biology?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“Me, too.”
“So how do you know more about lycanthropes than I do?” I said.
Stephen moved in his sleep, flinging his good arm outward. The blanket slid off his shoulder, exposing his stomach and part of a thigh.
Richard drew the blanket back over the sleeping man, covering him, like tucking in a child. “Stephen and I have been friends a long time. I bet you know things about zombies that I never learned in college.”
“Probably,” I said.
“Stephen’s not a teacher, is he?”
“No.” He smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant. “School boards frown on lycanthropes being teachers.”
“Legally, they can’t stop you.”
“Yeah, right,” he said. “They fire-bombed the last teacher who dared to teach their precious children. Lycanthropy isn’t contagious while in human form.”
“I know that,” I said.
He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s just a sore topic with me.”
My pet project was rights for zombies; why shouldn’t Richard have a pet project? Fair hiring practices for the furry. It worked for me.
“You are being tactful, ma petite. I would not have thought it of you.” Jean-Claude was in the hallway. I hadn’t heard him walk up. But I’d been distracted, talking with Richard. Yeah, that was it.
“Could you stamp your feet next time? I’m getting sick of you sneaking up on me.”
“I wasn’t sneaking, ma petite. You were distracted talking to our handsome Mr. Zeeman.” His voice was pleasant, mild as honey, and yet there was a threat to it. You could feel it like a cold wind down your spine.
“What’s wrong, Jean-Claude?” I asked.
“Wrong? What could possibly be wrong?” Anger and some bitter amusement flowed through his voice.
“Cut it out, Jean-Claude.”
“Whatever could be the matter, ma petite?”
“You’re angry; why?”
“My human servant does not know my every mood. Shameful.” He knelt beside me. The blood on his white shirt had dried to a brownish stain that took up most of the shirt front. The lace at his sleeves looked like crumpled brown flowers. “Do you lust after Richard because he’s handsome, or because he’s human?” His voice was almost a whisper, intimate as if he’d said something entirely different. Jean-Claude whispered better than anyone else I knew.
“I don’t lust after him.”
“Come, come, ma petite. No lies.” He leaned towards me, long-fingered hand reaching for my cheek. There was dried blood on his hand.
“You’ve got blood under your fingernails,” I said.
He flinched, his hand squeezing into a fist. Point for my side. “You reject me at every turn. Why do I put up with it?”
“I don’t know,” I said, truthfully. “I keep hoping you’ll get tired of me.”
“I am hoping to have you with me forever, ma petite. I would not make the offer if I thought I would grow bored.”
“I think I would get tired of you,” I said.
His eyes widened a bit. I think it was real surprise. “You are trying to taunt me.”
I shrugged. “Yes, but it’s still the truth. I’m attracted to you, but I don’t love you. We don’t have stimulating conversations. I don’t go through my day saying ‘I must remember to share that joke with Jean-Claude, or tell him about what happened at work tonight.’ I ignore you when you let me. The only things we have in common are violence and the dead. I don’t think that’s much to base a relationship on.”
“My, aren’t we the philosopher tonight.” His midnight blue eyes were only inches from mine. The eyelashes looked like black lace.
“Just being honest.”
“We wouldn’t want you to be less than honest,” he said. “I know how you despise lies.” He glanced at Richard. “How you despise monsters.”
“Why are you angry with Richard?”
“Am I?” he said.
“You know damn well you are.”
“Perhaps, Anita, I am realizing that the one thing you want is the one thing I cannot give you.”
“And what do I want?”
“Me to be human,” he said softly.
I shook my head. “If you think your only shortcoming is being a vampire, you’re wrong.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You’re an egotistical, overbearing bully.”
“A bully?” He sounded genuinely surprised.
“You want me, so you can’t believe that I don’t want you. Your needs, your desires are more important than anyone else’s.”
“You are my human servant, ma petite. It makes our lives complicated.”
“I am not your human servant.”
“I have marked you, Anita Blake. You are my human servant.”
“No,” I said. It was a very firm no, but my stomach was tight with the thought that he was right, and I would never be free of him.
He stared at me. His eyes were as normal as they ever got, dark, blue, lovely. “If you had not been my human servant, I could not have defeated the snake god so easily.”
“You mind-raped me, Jean-Claude. I don’t care why you did it.”
A look of distaste spread across his face. “If you choose the word rape, then you know that I am not guilty of that particular crime. Nikolaos forced herself on you. She tore at your mind, ma petite. If you had not carried two of my marks, she would have destroyed you.”
Anger was bubbling up from my gut, spreading up my back and into my arms. I had this horrible urge to hit him. “And because of the marks you can enter my mind, take me over. You told me it made mind games harder on me, not easier. Did you lie about that, too?”
“My need was great tonight, Anita. Many people would have died if the creature had not been stopped. I drew power where I could find it.”
“From me.”
“Yes, you are my human servant. Just by being near me you increase my power. You know that.”
I had known that, but I hadn’t known he could channel power through me like an amplifier. “I know I’m some sort of witch’s familiar for you.”
“If you would allow the last two marks, it would be more than that. It would be a marriage of flesh, blood, and spirit.”
“I notice you didn’t say soul,” I said.
He made an exasperated sound low in his throat. “You are insufferable.” He sounded genuinely angry. Goody.
“Don’t you ever force your way into my mind again.”
“Or what?” The words were a challenge, angry, confused.
I was on my knees beside him nearly spitting into his face. I had to stop and take a few deep breaths to keep from screaming at him. I spoke very calmly, low and angry. “If you ever touch me like that again, I will kill you.”
“You will try.” His face was nearly pressed against mine. As if when he inhaled, he would bring me to him. Our lips would touch. I remembered how soft his lips were. How it felt to be pressed against his chest. The roughness of his cross-shaped burn under my fingers. I jerked back, and felt almost dizzy.
It had only been one kiss, but the memory of it burned along my body like every bad romance novel you’d ever read. “Leave me alone!” I hissed it in his face, hands balled into fists. “Damn you! Damn you!”
The office door opened, and a uniformed officer stuck his head out. “There a problem out here?”
We turned and stared at him. I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what was wrong, but Jean-Claude spoke first. “No problem, officer.”
It was a lie, but what was the truth? That I had two vampire marks on me and was losing my soul a piece at a time. Not something I really wanted to be common knowledge. The police sort of frown on people who have close ties with the monsters.
The officer was looking at us, waiting. I shook my head. “Nothing’s wrong, officer. It’s just late. Could you ask Sergeant Storr if I can go home now?”