"You slept with him, didn't you?" His voice was low, almost soft, as if he was trying very hard not to yell.
My gut tightened. I was not ready for this fight. I was armed, but I was naked. I would have traded the gun for clothes in a hot second.
"I would say it's not what it looks like, but it is." My attempt at humor did not work.
He strode into the room like an approaching storm, his anger riding before him in a crackling wave. The power poured over me and I wanted to scream.
"Stop leaking all over me."
It stopped him, almost literally in midmotion. "What are you talking about?"
"Your power, aura, it's raining all over me. Stop it."
"Why? Does it feel good? Until you panicked last night, it felt good, didn't it?"
I shoved the Firestar under the pillow and stood, clutching the sheet to me. "Yeah, it felt good until you shapeshifted on top of me. I was covered in that clear gunk, thick with it." The memory was new enough that I shuddered and looked away from him.
"So you fucked Jean-Claude. Oh, that makes perfect sense."
I looked at him and felt an answering anger. If he wanted to fight, he'd come to the right place. I held up my right hand. It was covered in a wonderful multicolored bruise. "You did this when you knocked my gun away."
"There'd been enough killing, Anita. No one else had to die."
"Do you really think that Raina is just going to let you take over? No way. She'll see you dead first."
He shook his head, his face set in stubborn lines. "I am Ulfric now. I'm in control. She'll do what I say."
"Nobody bosses Raina; not for long. Has she offered to fuck you yet?"
"Yes," he said.
The way he said it stopped me, brought my breath up short. "Did you, after I left?"
"It would serve you right if I had."
I couldn't meet his eyes on that one. "If you make her lupa, she'll let it go. She just doesn't want to lose her power base." I forced myself to look up, to meet his eyes.
"I don't want Raina." Something passed over his face so raw, that it brought tears to my eyes. "I want you."
"You can't want me now, not after last night."
"Is that why you slept with Jean-Claude? Did you think it would keep you safe from me?"
"I wasn't thinking that clearly," I said.
He laid the coat and the gun on the bed. He gripped the end of the bed. The wood groaned under the strength of his hands. He jerked back from it as if he hadn't meant to do it. "You slept with him in this bed. Right here." He put his hand over his eyes as if he was trying to erase an image inside his head.
He screamed wordlessly.
I took a step towards him, hand out, and stopped. How could I comfort him? What could I say to make this better? Not a damn thing.
He jerked at the bottom sheet, tugging it until it came loose. He grabbed the top mattress and pulled it off the bed. He grabbed the bottom of the bed and lifted.
I screamed, "Richard!"
The bed was antique solid oak, and he tossed it on its side like it was a toy. He pulled the bottom sheet off. The silk tore with a sound like skin peeling back. He was on his knees with the butchered silk in his hands. He held his hands out to me and the sheets fell away like blood.
Richard got to his feet, a little unsteady. He caught himself against the bed and took a step towards me. The Firestar and the Browning were somewhere on the floor in the welter of red silk and tossed mattress.
I backed away until I hit the corner, and I had nowhere else to go. I was still clutching the sheet around me like it was some kind of protection.
I held out a hand towards Richard, as if that would help. "What do you want from me, Richard? What do you want me to say? I'm sorry. I am sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry that I can't handle what I saw last night. I'm sorry."
He stalked towards me, not saying anything, hands balled into fists. I realized that I was afraid of Richard. That I wasn't sure what he'd do when he reached me, and I wasn't armed. Part of me felt like I deserved to be hit at least once, that I owed that to him. But after seeing what he'd done to the bed, I wasn't sure I'd survive it.
Richard grabbed the front of the sheet, balling it in his fist, jerking me against him. He used the sheet to raise me to tiptoe. He kissed me. For a second I froze. Hitting, yelling, that I'd expected, but not this.
His mouth bruised against my lips, forcing my mouth open. The moment I felt his tongue, I jerked my head back.
Richard put a hand on the back of my head like he'd force me to kiss him. The rage in his face was frightening.
"Not good enough to kiss now?"
"I saw you eat Marcus last night."
He let me go so suddenly I fell to the floor, stumbling over the sheet. I tried to get to my knees, but my legs had tangled. The sheet slipped over one breast. I struggled to cover myself. Embarrassed at last.
"Two nights ago, you let me touch them, suck them. Now I can't even see them."
"Don't do this, Richard."
He went to all fours in front of me, so we'd be on eye level. "Don't do what? Don't be mad that you let the vampire fuck you?" He crawled forward until our faces were almost touching. "You fucked a corpse last night, Anita. Did it feel good?"
I stared at him from inches away, not embarrassed anymore. Instead, I was getting pissed. "Yeah, it did."
He jerked back from me like I'd hit him. His face crumpled, and his eyes searched the room frantically. "I love you." He looked up suddenly, eyes wide and pain-filled. "I love you."
I kept my eyes very wide so the tears in them wouldn't fall out and run down my cheeks. "I know, and I'm sorry."
He turned away from me, still kneeling. He slapped his hands against the floor. He pounded his hands into the floor over and over until blood smeared on the white carpet.
I got to my feet. I hovered over him, afraid to touch him. "Richard, Richard, don't, please don't." The tears fell and I couldn't stop them.
I knelt beside him. "You're hurting yourself. Stop it!" I grabbed his wrists, held his bleeding hands in mine. He stared at me, and the look on his face was raw, human.
I touched his face, gently tracing the claw marks. He leaned into me, tears spilling down his cheeks. The look in his eyes held me immobile. His lips brushed mine, soft. I didn't flinch, but I didn't kiss him back, either.
He moved back from me, just enough to see my face clearly. "Good-bye, Anita." He got to his feet.
I wanted to say so much, but none of it would help. Nothing would make it better. Nothing would erase what I'd seen last night or how it had made me feel. "Richard. . I. . I'm sorry."
"So am I." He walked to the door. He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. "I'll always love you."
I opened my mouth, but no sound came. There was nothing left to say but, "I love you, Richard, and I am sorrier than I know how to say."
He opened the door and stepped through it without looking back. When the door closed behind him, I sat on the floor, huddled in the silk sheet. I could smell Jean-Claude's cologne on the silk, but I could smell Richard now, too. His aftershave clung to the sheets, to my mouth.
How could I let him go like this? How could I call him back? I sat on the floor and did nothing, because I didn't know what to do.