He entered the room and the curtain fell shut behind him, plunging us back into the dark like an eclipse. I immediately preferred this; the darkness seemed to energize me. “Wow.” He pointed at the dome. “The stars are out.”
I snorted in amusement.
“Bet that cost him.”
“Bet it didn’t affect his bank accounts a bit. How was the interview?”
“Cool! It’s this NRRRadio station. They run it out of a house in Westlake, and it’s got this professional-yet-laid-back atmosphere. Web-based setup; the site has a window with a live studio Webcam in one corner and a chat room in another. People posted questions for us. The DJ, Syrinx, was awesome. Let us kinda take over the flow of things once we were used to everything.”
As if the DJ’d had any choice.
Johnny clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “This is all very romantic, stars, cozy fireplace, and all. Very romantic, indeed, if you ask me—which you didn’t.” Stopping before me, he reached out to my chin and lifted. “All this place needs is a little music. Guess we’ll have to make our own.” He bent and kissed me softly. My lips felt bruised, but I didn’t want him to think I was holding back. When it ended, Johnny straightened and licked his lips. “Mmmm, orange ju—”
By the light of fake stars, he detected the bandage.
Instantly the sunny demeanor frosted over. He didn’t need an explanation. Tension flared, then doubled, tripled. He moved away. “Don’t.” I caught his arm, felt the bones resetting under my grip. Anger was giving him power to change. I held on. “Don’t.”
He stopped. Voice quavering and low, on the edge of a growl, he said, “Give me one good reason.”
“I’m the master—”
“Not of me!”
With an irritated shove I released his arm.
He didn’t move; my attempt to push him away must’ve struck a nerve. He didn’t leave.
“Let me finish?” He didn’t object; perhaps he’d realized I was explaining, not commanding. “Being a master comes with certain responsibilities.”
Johnny lurched away, giving me his back. He was breathing hard. “Fuck!” he shouted into the air.
“You know how the protrepticus feeds on my aural energy?” An almost imperceptible nod indicated I had at least some of his attention. “It’s with me constantly, but I use it so seldom I don’t really notice the drain.” I drank the last of the juice and set the glass on the table. “This isn’t so different. Think about it. I’ve been drawing on his energy. I just didn’t realize it. Many times. When I ran in the field, when I sparred with you, when I confronted the fairies. Maybe more. I hexed him over three weeks ago, Johnny. He was due . . . a . . . a recharge. And aural energy alone wouldn’t satisfy him.”
Johnny watched me. Seething. The fire glow behind him gave an orange edge to all the black he wore. He could have been a living ember. Even the dark blue of his eyes seemed to reflect some of the burning color. The breath he drew in made me think he was about to rage, but when he spoke, his voice was even. “How often will he get his due?”
“I will keep it to a minimum. Believe me.”
“I believe you. But I’m wondering why you don’t sound even a little distressed or pissed off about it.”
He was right. I didn’t. I was indifferent because, on some level, I had to have known this was inevitable. Right? “Wouldn’t do me any good to be pissed off. Anger won’t change this. It is what it is.”
After deliberating with himself, he came and sat beside me on the bed. He was still too rigid, but as he opened and closed his hands they were normal, not furred and clawed. “Red, do you want this?”
It had to be difficult for him to accept, as Nana would say, “another tom slinking around the cathouse.” I had to give him kudos for not totally going Neanderthal on me.
I remembered Sammi and Cammi Harding, the bank heiresses who’d been escorting him backstage after Lycanthropia’s Rock Hall showcase. One of them had kissed him. Seeing it had hurt me. Deeply. If our roles were reversed right now, I wasn’t sure my reaction wouldn’t be Neanderthalish. How very unfair for someone so concerned with justice and balance to be.
I wondered if, when he officially ascended as Domn Lup, it would change him. Anyone would be permanently affected by such authority, the weight of unpleasant decisions and alliances. I guess we were both learning to accept these things that neither of us could change.
I answered him with the truth. “I need you both.”
Johnny tucked my hair behind my ear, and his finger ran gently over the exposed bandage. “Promise me that, analogywise, I get to be considered the twelve-cylinder sports car you drive too recklessly and too fast, say . . . a Ferrari 599 GTB Fiorano in Daytona Black.”
“I’m even imagining black leather upholstery.”
His lopsided grin was adorable. “Of course. And the vamp gets to be considered the detestable but law-required insurance policy with the irritating premium.”
I laughed and moved into his lap, stretching my arms around him. Don’t ever change. “You are definitely my only ride.”
“Oooooo. You’re revvin’ my engine.”
“Your whole analogy deserves a few innuendo points.”
His lips brushed mine like flower petals at first, then as he strayed to my cheek, it seemed he became aware that he was on the side Menessos had fed from and shifted roughly to the other side. I hoped it was because he was concerned for my covered wound, not an objection to putting his lips where Menessos’s had been.
Guilt rippled over me. The master/servant bond had taken over and I had failed to rule it. In that state, I might’ve yielded and made love to Menessos . . . and yet Menessos hadn’t taken advantage of me. As if drinking without permission were somehow not taking advantage.
Johnny eased me from his lap into the middle of the bed and slipped away from me. “Don’t go,” I said, reaching for his arm and coming up with only sleeve. My mind had wandered, my kisses had surely been lacking. He stood beside the bed, studying me. I said, “Stay with me.” I wanted to convince him my heart was in the right place. Moving onto my knees, I kissed him and caressed him all over. But he wasn’t responding. “Hey. I’m trying to rev that engine you’re so proud of.”
He kissed my forehead. “You gave blood tonight, Red. I can’t take anything more from you.” Yet he spent the next thirty seconds taking his clothes off. I moved over to lie on the near side of the bed and enjoyed the show.
“Gee, mister, you sure are good at sending mixed signals.”
“Can’t sleep unless I’m naked. Move over.” I moved. After throwing down the covers as far as he could, he lay down and pulled just the sheet over him.
I tugged the sheet down in playful increments.
“Get naked and get in here beside me already.”
He might have changed his mind about intimacy, but as I stood to undress, my vision went starry and my knees went weak. I caught myself, but he’d seen. He patted the mattress next to him. So I had to remove my jeans the unsexy way: on my back. I threw the denim to the floor as if it were the source of my trouble and snuggled up to my rock’n’roll biker-boyfriend.
With my head resting on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around me, contentedness enveloped me. Cuddling, even without the afterglow, was peaceful. How unexpected, to find serenity here, deep in the earth in a vampire’s haven with growing numbers of undead beyond my door.
I’d given blood and reassurances tonight, because that’s what each of them needed. As I lay there, I wondered, did I have what I needed? I couldn’t readily name anything I lacked.
Except answers. To questions like, how could I lie here feeling contentment when there was a battle brewing?
I can lie here because I believe there is a way to win. Somehow.