“You’ll be warmer,” he said.
I thought about it. He was probably right, but it would reinforce that I was tiny enough to sit in his lap and cuddle against his chest like a child. I really hated doing shit like that. But he was probably right, it would be warmer. Damn it.
“Yes,” I said, and even to me it didn’t sound happy.
“Are you sure?”
“The lady has spoken, Graham, do not make her repeat herself,” Requiem said.
Graham hesitated for a second, then he scooped me up in his arms, like I weighed nothing. He sat me on his lap, and I found another downside to the thong. He must have been wearing new jeans because they weren’t soft. I was so not wearing enough underwear, or enough skirt. But I’d dressed mostly for meeting Jean-Claude and Asher later in the evening. I’d been thinking date, not medical emergencies. Silly me.
He was able to curl most of me underneath his jacket against his chest, the rest of me curled into a small ball in his lap, with just a little leg off to one side. He put one of his arms across that spill of leg, and the other arm held the jacket tight around me. Requiem helped us get the blanket draped around us, and the only thing uncovered was the top of my head. It was dark and warm, and I laid my head against his chest, and the T-shirt was a thin barrier between me and the heat of his skin. I let my body ease into the warmth of his skin, and the scent of leather, and just him. I realized why his scent seemed so comfortable to me. He smelled like pack, that faint scent that all of Richard’s wolves had. I was too friendly with too many of them not to equate that faint ruffling musk with safety. I let myself sink into a warm nest of leather, and blanket, and body, and shared warmth, and the distant smell of wolf, and I slept.
The next thing I was aware of was Graham’s voice, very soft, as if he didn’t really want to wake me. “Anita, Anita, they’re done with the zombie.”
For a second I couldn’t remember where I was, or who was talking to me. Fresh from sleep, to me his body felt more like Richard’s than anyone else’s. The size and the musculature and the faint scent of musk was all Richard, but the voice didn’t match.
“Anita, you are wanted by the graveside.” Requiem’s British accent.
The last of sleep and whatever wolf-scented dreams I’d had slipped away, and I knew where I was and whose lap I’d fallen asleep in.
Graham stroked my hair, and said softly, “Anita, are you awake?”
I sat up, pushing his arm, his jacket off of me, but we were tangled in the blanket. I pushed at the soft gray material, but it was caught at the edges, wedged under his body. I could punch at it, but Icouldn’t get free of it. I had one of those moments of claustrophobia that make no sense. I wasn’t actually trapped, but there was something about being close to trapped with two people that I knew so little about. If it had been anyone on my list of people that I trusted implicitly, it wouldn’t have happened. But I didn’t know Graham, not really, and I’d fallen asleep in his arms. I’d fallen asleep with only him and Requiem to watch over me. Careless, terribly careless.
Maybe it was some remnant of an unremembered dream, or maybe there is no excuse, but whatever, I lost it. I panicked. If I’d been thinking clearly, I could have gotten out of a stupid blanket, but Iwasn’t thinking anymore. My head was screaming, Trapped, trapped, we’re trapped!
Graham grabbed my arms, and I shoved an elbow back into him as hard as I could.
He let go and made a satisfyinghummph sound. “Shit, you’ll crack a rib doing that.”
“Don’t grab me, okay, just don’t grab me.” My voice was breathy, but I was a touch calmer. Calm enough not to fight the stupid blanket.
Calm enough not to struggle so that Graham thought something was wrong with me. My pulse was still wild in my throat, like I’d choke on it, but I could think again.
Requiem was there on his knees, looming over both of us. The panic flared through me in a cold wash that left my fingertips tingling with static, but I fought it off this time. I tried to relax as he pulled at the edge of the blanket and started to ease us free.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I think I had a bad dream.”
“No shit,” Graham said, and he sounded slightly offended.
I’d apologized once, he wasn’t getting it twice. Truth was I’d gotten claustrophobic from two things, a diving accident years ago, and waking up in a vampire’s coffin. Waking up in the tight darkness with a dead body wrapped around you. The stuff of nightmares.
There was a look on Requiem’s face that was eloquent. He knew I was lying, and I didn’t care. I made it policy not to parade my phobias in front of people. Never let people see what really scares you, they may use it against you later.
When he pulled enough blanket, I scrambled out, and was damn rude getting out of the Jeep. But I felt better as soon as I hit the open air. I took in deep breaths of the cool night air. About the time I got myself calmer, my lower body started to be cold. Shit.
“You’re shivering again,” Requiem said, from right behind me. I jumped, because I hadn’t heard him slide out of the car. “I’m alright.”
“No, you are not.”
I frowned at him.
Graham slid out of the backseat. “He’s right.”
I frowned at them both. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. I’ve got a job to do.”
“Yes, you have a job to do, but how you feel still matters,”
Requiem said.
I opened the front door and got my gym bag out of the seat. I didn’t leave it graveside because of the machete. The machete might only be magical in my hand, or in another animator’s hand, but it was still a damn long blade, and I didn’t trust civilians around it.
I shut the door, hit the beeper to lock it, and started walking back to the grave with the bag in hand. I’d gone about four feet into the grass, when I tripped and nearly fell.
Requiem’s hand was at my elbow. “You are not well.”
I stood there and let him steady me. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Usually raising the dead makes me feel good, better.”
“Tonight did not go as planned.”
I shook my head. “No, it didn’t. Part of that was my fault.”
“No,” he said.
“Yes,” I said, “I got distracted by all that new power and forgot to put up a protective circle. It keeps the zombie in, but it also keeps other things out. A lot of metaphysical shit likes to mess with bodies, if they get the chance. I knew better.”
“You were distracted.”
“Yeah.”
“Can I carry the bag for you?” Graham asked, though I noticed he was staying just out of reach. I wondered how hard I’d hit him in the ribs. I hadn’t hurt him, but I was more than human strong now, and I could have hurt him.
“Yeah, thanks,” I said.
He took the bag and then stood to one side and let Requiem and me go first. The vampire kept his hand on my elbow, and I let him. I was getting cold again.
“I’ve lost more blood than this before and not felt this bad,” I said, softly. One group of cars had left the cemetery, the group that had brought the suit. The lawyers from the winning side were at graveside, and there was a cheerful murmur of voices, as the descendants got to talk to their patriarch. He had a big booming laugh.
“Have you fed tonight?” Requiem asked. His voice brought me back to the dark and how far we still had to walk. It seemed like a long way, but it wasn’t that far, it just wasn’t.
“Yeah, I had dinner.”
He shook his head. “That is not what I meant.”
I thought about it for a second, or two, then said, “You mean like theardeur?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, I fed off of you and Byron.”
“No,” he said, “you were feeding for Jean-Claude. He got that energy.”
“I guess so. But if theardeur needs feeding it just flares up, and I have to feed.” I put my hand on his arm, because my legs were feeling wobbly.
“Perhaps you have gained more control over it?”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you can go without feeding it, until you choose to feed it.”
I stopped walking and looked up at him. “What?”
“You have many of the symptoms of a vampire that has not fed enough. The blood lust rules us at first, but once we are masters, then we can go without feeding if we must. We can choose to feed.”