Cerulean Sins (27 page)

I let his balls slip out and sucked the rest of him back in my mouth hard and fast, pulling harder than I should have, sucking him as hard and fast as I wanted, no control now, no waiting, just the feel of him rolling in and out of my mouth, as I pulled on him.

He screamed my name, half pleasure, half pain, and the
ardeur
burst over both of us. The heat spread upward through me, and I felt it spread, thrust itself into Jean-Claude. So hot, so hot, so very hot, as if the water around us should boil. I had enough left of me somewhere in all that to let go of him with my mouth, so I didn't get too carried away. I convulsed against his legs, my nails digging into his butt, hips, thighs, as he rocked above me, and fought to keep his feet.

He finally half-sat, half-collapsed to the edge of the tub and sat there, propped on his arms, breathing too hard, and that he was breathing at all meant he'd fed his
ardeur
, as I'd fed off of him. Sometimes it was just an exchange of energy, sometimes it was a true feeding.

I climbed out of the tub enough to sit beside him, but didn't touch him. Sometimes right after the
ardeur
had been fed, touching of any kind could reignite it, especially between people who
both
held the
ardeur
. So it had been between Jean-Claude and Belle, so it was sometimes between us.

His eyes were still solid blue, like midnight skies when the stars have drowned. His voice was breathy, when he said, “You are getting better at feeding the
ardeur
without true orgasm,
ma petite
.”

“I have a good teacher.”

He smiled the smile a man gives a woman when they've just finished such things, and it isn't the first time they've done them, and it won't be the last. “An apt pupil, as they say.”

I looked at him, and he was pale alabaster with that black, black hair, those blue eyes. The folds and hollows of his body exposed to the overhead lights were as beautiful and familiar to me as a favorite path that I could walk forever and never tire of.

I stared at Jean-Claude, and it wasn't the beauty of him that made me love him, it was just—him. It was a love made up of a thousand touches, a million conversations, a trillion shared looks. A love made up of danger shared, enemies conquered, a determination to keep the people that depended on us safe at almost any cost, and a certain knowledge that neither of us would change the other, even if we could. I loved Jean-Claude, all of him, because if I took away the Machiavellian plottings, the labyrinth of his mind, it would lessen him, make him someone else.

I sat on the edge of the tub with my jeans and jogging shoes soaking in the water, looking at him laugh, watching his eyes bleed back to human, and I wanted him, not for sex, though that was in there, but for everything.

“You look serious,
ma petite
, what are you thinking about so solemn-faced?”

“You,” I said, voice soft.

“Why should that make you look so solemn?” The humor began to leak away from his face, and I knew without being a hundred percent sure that he was thinking I was about to run away again. He'd probably been worried about that from the moment I shared a bed with him and Asher. I usually ran after I'd made some big breakthrough. Or would that be breakdown?

“A surprisingly wise friend told me that I hold back some part of myself from all the men in my life. He said that I do it to keep myself safe, to keep myself from being consumed by love.”

Jean-Claude's face had gone very careful, as if he were afraid for me to read his expression.

“I wanted to argue, but I couldn't. He was right.”

Jean-Claude looked at me, face still empty, but there was a tightness around his eyes, a wariness that he couldn't quite hide. He was waiting for the blow to fall, I'd taught him to expect it.

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and finished, “What I hold back from you is sharing blood. We fed the
ardeur
off each other now, but I still won't let you take blood.”

Jean-Claude opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. He'd sat up straighter, hands clasped in his lap. It wasn't just his face he was fighting to keep neutral, even his body language was so very careful.

“I asked you to feed off me a few minutes ago, and you said not while
the
ardeur
was riding me. Not while I was intoxicated.” I had to smile at the choice of words, because
intoxicated
was a good description of the
ardeur
. Metaphysical liquor.

“I've fed the
ardeur
, we both have. I'm not intoxicated any more.”

He'd gone very still, that utter stillness that the old vampires could do. It was like if I looked away, he wouldn't be there when I looked back. “We have both fed the
ardeur
, that much is true.”

“Then I'm still offering blood.”

He took a deep breath. “I want this,
ma petite
, you know that.”

“I know.”

“But why now?”

“I told you, I had a talk with a friend.”

“I cannot give you what Asher gave you, gave us, yesterday. With my marks upon you, I may not be able to roll your mind at all. It will be only pain.”

“Then do it in the middle of pleasure. We've proven more than once that my pain/pleasure sensors get a little confused when I'm excited enough.”

That made him smile. “As do mine.”

That made
me
smile. “Let's fool around.”

“And then?” he asked, voice low.

“When it's time, take blood, and then let's fuck.”

He gave a surprised burst of laughter. “
Ma petite
, you are such a sweet-talker, how can I refuse?”

I leaned into him, pressed a gentle kiss upon his lips, and said, “Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, and all is dross that is not Helena.”

He gazed into my face with such longing. “I thought you said you could not remember more of the play.”

“I remembered more,” I whispered, “do you?”

He shook his head, and we were so close that his hair brushed against mine so that you couldn't tell where one blackness left and the other began. “Not with you this close to me, no.”

“Good,” I smiled, “but promise some night we'll get the whole play and take turns reading it to each other.”

He smiled, and it was the smile I'd come to value more than any other, it was real and vulnerable, and I think one of the few things left of the man he might have been if Belle Morte had not found him. “I swear it, and gladly.”

“Then help me peel off these wet jeans and leave the poetry for another night.”

He cupped my face in his hands. “It is always poetry between us,
ma petite
.”

My mouth was suddenly dry, and it was hard to swallow past my pulse. My voice came breathy, “Yeah, but sometimes it's dirty limericks.”

He laughed as he kissed me, then he helped me out of the wet jeans, and the wet socks, and the wet shoes, and the wet everything. When my cross spilled out of my shirt, it didn't glow. It just lay there glinting in the overhead lights. Jean-Claude averted his eyes, as he always did when he saw a holy object, but that was the only hint I had that the cross bothered him. I realized with a start that I'd never worn a cross around Jean-Claude and had it glow at him. What did that mean?

I'm usually pretty straightforward except in emotional areas, but I was trying to be different, change that, so I asked. “Does it really hurt you to look at my cross?”

He looked determinedly at the edge of the bathtub. “No.”

“Then why look away?”

“Because it will start to glow, and I do not want that.”

“How do you know that it'll start to glow?”

“Because I am a vampire, and you are a true believer.” He was still staring at the water, the marble of the tub, anywhere, and everywhere except at my chest with the cross still hanging around it.

“I've never had a cross glow when you were the only vampire around.”

He glanced up at that, then quickly down. “That cannot be true.”

I thought about it some more. “I can't ever remember it happening. You look away, then I take the cross off, and we go on about our business, but it doesn't glow.”

He shifted in the water enough to send little splashes against my legs. “Does it matter?” His voice held just how unhappy he was with the line of conversation.

“I don't know,” I said.

“If you do not wish me to feed, then I will go.”

“It's not that, Jean-Claude, honest.”

He put a hand on the edge of the tub and stepped out.

“Jean-Claude,” I said.

“
Non, ma petite
, you do not want this, or you would not cling to your holy object.” He took a vibrant blue towel that matched the sheets on the bed and began to dry off.

“My point is . . . oh, hell, I don't know what my point is, just don't go.” I put my hands back to unfasten the clasp of the chain, and the door opened. Asher stepped inside, coated in dried blood, all of it mine. That should have bothered me, but it didn't. His hair still fell around his shoulders like spun gold, and with Asher, it wasn't a euphemism for blond. His hair was like
gold spun to thick, soft waves. His eyes a blue so pale it was like winter skies, but warmer, more . . . alive. He walked towards us, his long body nude and perfect. The scars didn't make him less perfect, they were simply a part of Asher, and nothing marred the godlike grace as he moved into the room. He was so beautiful it stopped my breath in my throat, made my chest ache to see him. I wanted to say,
come to us
, but my voice was gone in the sheer wonder as he glided towards us on narrow bare feet.

The cross flared to life, not the white-hot glow it had had in the Jeep, but bright enough. Bright enough to leave me blinking. Bright enough to help me think. Asher was still beautiful, nothing could change that, but now I could breathe, move, talk. Though I had no idea what to say. I'd never had a cross glow around him either, until now.

It was Jean-Claude who said it, “What have you done,
mon ami,
what have you done?” He had his back to the glow of the cross and was using the towel to help shield his eyes.

Asher had thrown up an arm to protect his own pale blue gaze. “I tried to roll her mind just enough for pleasure, but the
ardeur
was too much.”

“What have you done?” Jean-Claude asked again.

I watched them both in the light of the cross, one hiding behind the blue towel, the other his own arm, and I answered for him, “He rolled me. He rolled my mind, completely and utterly.” Even as I said it, I knew he'd done more than that. I'd been rolled before. I'd even been rolled once upon a time by Jean-Claude when first we met. But vampire powers to cloud the mind are a dime a dozen, most of them can do it. Most of the young ones have to capture you with their gaze, but the old ones can simply think at you. I was immune to most of it, partly natural ability as a necromancer, and part Jean-Claude's marks. But I wasn't immune to Asher. The cross kept glowing, the vampires kept shielding their eyes, and even with them hiding away from the white light, I still wanted them, both of them, but now I had to wonder how much of it was me, and how much of it was Asher's mind tricks. Damn it.

W
E ENDED UP
in the bedroom but not for anything fun. I'd dried off and thrown on extra clothes that I kept at the Circus. I had to put the wet shoes back on though. My cross was safely underneath my shirt again. Once it went under the shirt, it stopped glowing, but there was still a pulsing warmth to it.

Jean-Claude had knotted the blue towel around his waist, where it draped nearly to his ankles. He'd put a smaller towel on his hair and the blue of the cloth brought out the blue of his eyes. Seeing his face free of all hair made him look more like a boy to me. It was the bones of his cheeks that saved his face from being utterly feminine. He was still beautiful, but an inch closer to handsome without that black veil of hair.

Asher was still clothed in nothing but the dried blood and the spill of all his own hair. He was pacing the room like some kind of caged beast.

Jean-Claude had simply sat down on the edge of the bed with the blue sheets still stained with blood and other fluids. He looked discouraged.

I stood as far from them as I could, arms clasped across my stomach. I'd left my shoulder holster off, so that I wouldn't stroke my gun while I argued. I was hoping to tone the hostility down, not ramp it up.

Jean-Claude laid his face in his hands, all pale skin and blue cloth, towels and sheets surrounding him. “Why did you do it,
mon ami
? If you had only behaved yourself we would even now be together as we were meant to be.”

I wasn't sure I liked how sure Jean-Claude was of me, but I couldn't really argue without lying, so I let it go. Shutting the fuck up is seldom a bad move on my part.

Asher stopped pacing and said, “Anita has felt me feed. She knew that I
could roll her mind completely. She did not say not to do it. She said for me to take her, to feed from her, so I did. I did what she told me to do, and she was aware of how I would do it, because she has fed me once before.”

Jean-Claude raised his face from his hands like a drowning man, coming up for air. “I know that Anita fed you when you lay dying in Tennessee.”

“She saved me,” Asher said. He'd come to the end of the big four-poster bed.

I watched the two of them framed against the blue sheets, where so recently we'd had a very good time. I stood there wanting them both, and my arms clung to me, as if by holding on tight I could keep it from happening.

“
Oui
, she saved you, but you did not roll her mind completely then, because I would have felt your touch upon her mind and heart, and it was not there.”

“I tried to roll her mind because it seems to me that every vampire that takes blood from her is in some way under her sway, her power. It is almost as if when a vampire feeds from her, it is she who controls them, not the other way around.”

I stayed where I was, but this I couldn't let go. “Trust me, Asher, it doesn't work that way. I've had vamps bite me and have me under their sway before.”

He looked at me, with those pale, pale eyes. “But how long ago was that? I think that your powers have grown since then.”

My gaze kept sliding down his body, tracing the blood pattern on that pale, slightly golden tinged skin. I closed my eyes to say the next because I needed to stop watching them. “Do you feel like you have to do what I say?”

He hesitated, and I fought the urge to look at him, to watch him think. “No.” His voice was soft.

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, opened my eyes, and fought like hell to stare at Asher's face and nothing else. “See, you're not in my power or anything.”

He did a small frown. “Are you in my power then?”

“I can't stop watching the two of you. I can't stop thinking about what we did, what we could still do.”

He gave a harsh laugh, and it hurt to hear it, as if it had struck a blow along my skin. “How can you not think about us, while we stand here in front of you like this?”

“Oh, you're not arrogant,” I said, arms clinging to myself like it was the last safe place for them to be.

“Anita, I am thinking of you, too. The pale spill of your back, the curve of your hip, the mound of your ass, underneath me. The feel of me rubbing along the soft warmth of your skin.”

“Stop,” I said, and had to turn away because I was blushing and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

“Why stop? It's what we're all thinking.”

“
Ma petite
does not like to be reminded of pleasure.”

“
Mon Dieu
, why not?”

I looked in time to see Jean-Claude give that all-purpose Gallic shrug, which meant everything and nothing. Usually he made it look graceful, today it looked tired.

“Anita,” Asher said.

I looked at him, and this time I could make eye contact, except that staring into those amazing eyes wasn't much safer than looking at his amazing body.

“You told me you wanted me inside you, as I remember. And when I bared your neck you said, ‘Yes, Asher, yes.' ”

“I remember what I said.”

“Then how can you be angry at me for doing what you asked?” He took three strides closer to me, and I backed up. The movement stopped him. “How can you blame me for this?”

“I don't know, but I do. How that's unfair, or maybe not unfair, I don't know, but I do.”

Jean-Claude spoke then, his voice like the sigh of the wind outside a lonely door. “If you had but restrained yourself,
mon ami
, we might even now be together in the bath.”

“I don't know about that,” I said. My voice sounded angry, and I was glad.

Jean-Claude gazed at me with those blue black eyes. “Are you saying that you could refuse such bounty, once having tasted it?”

I didn't blush this time, I paled. “Well, it's moot now isn't it, because he cheated.” I pointed at Asher for dramatic emphasis.

He stared at me openmouthed. “How did I cheat?”

Jean-Claude was back to holding his head in his hands. “
Ma petite
does not allow vampire trickery to be played upon her.” His voice came muffled but strangely clear.

Asher looked from one to the other of us. “Ever?”

Jean-Claude answered without moving, head still in his hands. “For the most,
oui
.”

“Then she has never tasted you as you are meant to be tasted,” Asher said, and his voice held a soft astonishment.

“That is her choice,” Jean-Claude said, he raised his face up slowly, so I could meet that blue gaze, and there was something of anger in his eyes.

I didn't understand all of this conversation, and I wasn't sure I wanted to, so I ignored it. I've always been damn good at ignoring what makes me
uncomfortable. “The point is that Asher used vampire wiles on me. He's done something to cloud the way I think about him. Now I won't know, won't ever know, if what I'm feeling is real, or a trick.” There, I felt sure of moral high ground on this one, at least.

Jean-Claude did a sort of voilà gesture with his hands, as if to say, see, I told you.

Asher's face began to lose its anger and work towards that blankness they both did so well. “So it was just a lie.”

I looked at both of them. “What was a lie?”

“That you wanted me to be with you and Jean-Claude.”

I frowned. “No, it wasn't a lie. I meant it.”

“Then this faux pas changes nothing,” he said.

“You've messed with my mind, I don't think that's just a faux pas. I think that's damn serious.” My hands were on my hips, better than clinging to myself to keep from touching anybody. I embraced my anger, because it made them less beautiful. Of course, it made everything less beautiful.

“So you did lie,” Asher said, his face almost empty of any expression.

I hated watching him shut himself away like this, but I didn't know what to do to stop it. “Damn it, no, I didn't lie. You're the one who changed the rules, Asher, not me.”

“I changed nothing. You said we would be together. You offered me your bed. You begged me to be inside you. Jean-Claude said that your sweet ass was not to be touched, and the deep pleasure of your body was full, where was I supposed to go?”

I fought not to blush and failed. “It was the
ardeur
talking, and you knew it.”

He backed up until he came to the edge of the bed, and he half-collapsed on the blue sheets, grabbing the post to keep from sliding off the silk. His face was blank, but the rest of him acted as if I'd struck him, and I knew I'd said the wrong thing.

“I said that once the
ardeur
was cooled you would find a way to reject me, to reject this,” and he gestured at Jean-Claude at the far end of the bed, and the bed itself, “and you have done just as I said you would do.” He pushed himself up from the bed, clinging to the wooden post for a moment, as if he wasn't sure his legs would hold him. He took a tentative step away from the bed, almost staggered, then another, and another. Each step was steadier than the last. He was going for the door.

“Wait a minute, you're not just going to walk out,” I said.

He stopped walking, but didn't turn around as he answered, giving a clear view of the perfection of the back of his body. “I cannot leave until Musette is gone. I will give her no excuse to take me back to the courts with her. If I belong to no one, she will do it, and I will have no grounds to refuse.”
He rubbed his hands over his arms as if he were cold. “When Musette is gone, I will petition for another Master of the City. There are those who would take me in.”

I walked towards him. “No, no, you have to give me some time to think about what you did. It's not fair to walk off like this.” I was almost to him when he whirled around, and the rage on his face stopped me like I'd hit a wall.

“Fair! What is fair in being offered everything you ever wanted and thought never to have again, only to have it torn from your grasp? Torn from your grasp because you did exactly what you were told you could do, what was asked of you.” He didn't yell, but his anger filled his voice, so every word was like a red-hot poker flung at my face.

I didn't know what to say in the face of that anger.

“I will not, cannot, stay and watch you and Jean-Claude. I would rather be without the sight of either of you then so very close, but cast from your bed, your arms, your affections.” He covered his face with his hands and gave a low scream. “To be with us as our lover is to be seduced by our powers.” He tore his hands away from his face and let me see his eyes drowning blue, his anger making up for the lack of blood. “I had never dreamed that Jean-Claude had not done so.” He looked at the other man, still sitting on the edge of the bed. “How could you be with her for so long and resist the temptation?”

“She is most adamantly against such things,” Jean-Claude said. “At least you have had her willing blood, I have never been so blessed.”

Asher frowned, and it sat badly on that lovely face, like an angel frowning. “That astounds me still, though I knew that. But she has bestowed her charms upon you, and now I will never know them.”

This was all happening way too fast for me. “Jean-Claude understands the rules, and we both live by them.” Of course, I'd been just about ready to change the rules, but I didn't think Asher needed to know right now.

Asher shook his head, sending that foam of gold hair gliding over his shoulders. “Even if I understood the rules, Anita, I could not abide by them.”

That made me frown. “What do you mean?”

“Anita, we aren't human, no matter how much some of us pretend. But not all of what we are is bad. You have entered our world, but you deny yourself the best of us, while only seeing the worst. But most horrible of all, you deny Jean-Claude the best of his own world.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“He is celibate save for you, but he does not pleasure himself fully with you, or anyone else.” He made a gesture that I didn't understand. “I see that look upon your face, Anita, that American look. Sex is not just intercourse, or even just orgasm, and that is especially true for us.”

“Why, because you're French?”

He gave me such a serious look that my attempt at humor died in my chest like a cold weight. “We are vampires, Anita. More than that, we are Master Vampires of Belle Morte's line. We can give you pleasure that no other can give, and we can take pleasure as no other can experience it. By agreeing to limit himself, Jean-Claude has denied himself a great deal of what makes this existence bearable, even enjoyable.”

I looked at Jean-Claude. “How much have you been holding back?”

He wouldn't meet my gaze.

“How much, Jean-Claude?”

“I cannot make my bite true pleasure as Asher can. I cannot roll your mind completely as he can.” He still wouldn't look at me.

“That's not what I asked.”

He sighed. “There are things that I can do that you have not seen. I have tried to abide by your wishes in all things.”

“Well, I will not,” Asher said.

We both looked at him.

“Anita will always find some reason to keep her from openly taking both of us. She cannot even allow her one vampire lover to truly be vampire. How could she possibly endure the full touch of two of them?”

“Asher,” I said, but didn't know what else to say, all I knew was that my chest hurt, and it was hard to breathe.

“No, you will always find something in your men that is not good enough, not pure enough. You come to us out of need, even out of love, but it is never enough. You will not allow us to be enough even for ourselves.” He shook his head again, in a flurry of brightness that shattered the lights like golden mirrors. “My heart is too fragile to play these games, Anita. I love you, but I cannot live, let alone love, like this.”

“I don't even get an hour to digest that you used vampire wiles on me.”

He put a hand on either of my shoulders, and the weight of his hands made my skin run warm. “If it's not this, it will be something else. I have watched you with Richard, Jean-Claude, and now Micah. Micah wins his way through your maze by simply agreeing to everything you ask. Jean-Claude wins his place on the edges of your labyrinth by cutting himself off from unbelievable pleasure. Richard will not walk your maze, because he has his own, and only one person can be this confusing in a relationship at one time. Someone has to be willing to compromise, and neither you nor Richard will compromise enough.”