Cravings (2 page)

I was the first human Nimir-Ra in the wereleopards' long history. Though
since I raise the dead for a living and am a legal vampire executioner, there
are people who'll argue the human part. They're just jealous.

I started to pull him in against me for a hug, but he gave a small shake of
his head. He was right. If just holding his hand sped my pulse like candy on my
tongue, then a hug would be bad. Through a series of metaphysical accidents, I
held something close to the beast that lived in Micah. That beast and Micah's
beast knew each other, knew each other in the way of old lovers. That part of us
that was not human knew each other better than our human halves. I still knew
almost nothing about him, really. Even though we lived together. On a
metaphysical level we were bound tighter than any ceremony or piece of paper
could make us; in real everyday life, I was wondering what to do with him. He
was the perfect partner. My other half, the missing piece. He complemented me in
almost every way. And when he was standing this close, it all seemed so right.
Give me a little distance and I would begin to wonder when the other shoe would
drop and he would stop being wonderful. I'd never had a man in my life yet that
didn't spoil it somehow. Why should Micah be different?

He didn't so much kiss me as lay the feel of his breath against my cheek. He
breathed, "Until later." That one light touch made me shiver so violently that
he had to steady me with a touch on my arm.

He smiled at me, that knowing smile that a man gives when he understands just
how much his touch affects a woman. I didn't like that smile. It made me feel
like he took his time with me for granted. The moment I thought it, I knew it
wasn't true. It wasn't even fair. So why had I thought it at all? Because I am a
master at screwing up my own love life. If something works too well, I've got to
poke at it, prod it, until it breaks, or bites me. I was trying not to do that
anymore, but old habits, especially bad ones, die hard.

Micah moved off down the line, and Detective Arnet gave me a questioning look
out of her heavily painted but lovely eyes. She opened her mouth as if to ask if
I were alright, but the next person in line distracted her. Nathaniel was
distracting, no doubt about that.

Jessica Arnet was a few inches taller than Nathaniel's 5' 6", so she had to
look down to meet that lavender gaze. No exaggeration on the color. His eyes
weren't blue, but truly a pale purple, lavender, spring lilacs. He wore a
banded-collar shirt that was almost the same color as his eyes, so the lavender
was even more vibrant; drowningly beautiful, those eyes.

He offered his hand, but she hugged him. Hugged him, because I think for the
first time she was in a public situation where no one would think it was
strange. So she hugged him, because she could.

There was a fraction of a moment's hesitation, then he hugged her back, but
he turned his head so he could look at me. His eyes said clearly, Help me.

She hadn't done that much yet, just a hug where a handshake would have done,
but the look in Nathaniel's eyes was much more serious than what she'd done. As
if it bothered him more than it should have. Since in his day job he's a
stripper, you'd think he'd be used to women pawing him. Of course, maybe that
was the point. He wasn't at work.

She stayed molded to his body, and he stayed holding, with only that mute
look in his eyes to say he was unhappy.

His body seemed happy and relaxed in the hug. He never showed Jessica Arnet
his confused eyes.

The hug had gone on longer than was polite, and I finally realized what part
of the problem was. Nathaniel was the least dominant person I'd ever met. He
wanted out of the hug, but he could not be the first one to pull back. Jessica
had to let him go, and she was probably waiting for him to move away, and
getting all the wrong signals from the fact that he wasn't moving away. Shit.
How do I end up with men in my life who have such interesting problems? Lucky, I
guess.

I held out my hand toward him, and the relief on his face was clear enough
that anyone down the hall would have seen it, and understood it. He kept his
face turned so Jessica never saw that look. It would have hurt her feelings, and
Nathaniel didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Which meant that he didn't see
her shining face, all aglow with what she thought was mutual attraction.
Truthfully, I'd thought Nathaniel liked her, at least a little, but his face
said otherwise. To me, anyway.

Nathaniel came to my hand like a scared child who's just been saved from the
neighborhood bully. I drew him into a hug, and he clung to me, pressing our
bodies tighter than I would have liked in public, but I couldn't blame him, not
really. He wanted the comfort of physical contact, and I think he'd figured out
that Jessica Arnet had gotten the wrong idea.

I held him as close as I could, as close as I'd wanted to hold Micah. With
Micah, it might have led to embarrassing things, but not with Nathaniel. With
Nathaniel I could control myself. I wasn't in love with him. I caressed the long
braid of his auburn hair that fell nearly to his ankles. I played with the
braid, as if it were other more intimate things, hoping that Jessica would take
the hint. I should have known that a little extra hugging wouldn't have done the
job.

I drew back from the hug first, and he kept his gaze on my face. I could
study his face and understand what she saw there, so handsome, so amazingly
beautiful. His shoulders had broadened in the last few months, from weight
lifting, or just the fact that he was twenty and still filling out. He was
luscious to look at, and I was almost certain he would be nearly as luscious in
bed. But though he was living with me, cleaning my house, buying my groceries,
and running my errands, I still hadn't had intercourse with him. I was really
trying to avoid that, since I didn't plan on keeping him. Someday Nathaniel
would need to find a new place to live, a new life, because I wouldn't always
need him the way I did now.

I was human, but just as I was the first human Nimir-Ra the leopards had ever
had, I was also the first human servant of a master vampire to acquire certain…
abilities. With those abilities came some downsides. One of those downsides was
needing to feed the ardeur every twelve hours, or so.
Ardeur
is French
for flame, roughly translates to being consumed, being consumed by love. But it
isn't exactly love.

I stared up into Nathaniel's wide lilac eyes, cradled his face between my
hands. I did the only thing I could think of that might keep Jessica Arnet from
embarrassing them both at the reception to follow. I kissed him. I kissed him,
because he needed me to do it. I kissed him because it was strangely the right
thing to do. I kissed him because he was my
pomme de sang
, my apple of
blood. I kissed him because he was my food, and I hated the fact that anyone was
my food. I fed off Micah, too, but he was my partner, my boyfriend, and he was
dominant enough to say no if he wanted to. Nathaniel wanted me to take him,
wanted to belong to me, and I didn't know what to do about it. Months from now
the ardeur would be under control and I wouldn't need a
pomme de sang
.
What would Nathaniel do when I didn't need him anymore?

I drew back from the kiss and watched Nathaniel's face shine at me the way
Jessica Arnet's face had shone at him. I wasn't in love with Nathaniel, but
staring up into that happy, handsome face, I was afraid that I couldn't say the
same for him. I was using him. Not for sex, but for food. He was food, just
food, but even as I thought it, I knew it was partly a lie. You don't fall in
love with your steak, because it can't hold you, can't press warm lips in the
bend of your neck, and whisper, "Thank you," as it glides down the hallway in
the charcoal gray slacks that fit its ass like a second skin and spill roomy
over the thighs that you happen to know are even lovelier out of the pants than
in. When I turned to the next smiling person in line, I caught Detective Jessica
Arnet giving me a look. It wasn't an entirely friendly look. Great, just great.

 

THE Halloween theme continued into the reception hall. Orange and black crepe
paper streamers dangled everywhere; cardboard skeletons, rubber bats, and paper
ghosts floated overhead. There was a fake spiderweb against one wall big enough
to hang someone from. The table centerpieces were realistic looking
jack-o'-lanterns with flickering electric grins. The fake skeletons were long
enough to be a hazard to anyone much taller than I was. Which meant most guests
were having the tops of their hair brushed by little cardboard skeleton toes.
Unfortunately, Tammy was 5' 8" without heels; with heels she got her veil
tangled with the decorations. The bridesmaids finally got Tammy's veil unhooked
from the skeletal toes, but it ruined the entrance for the bride and groom. If
Tammy had wanted the decorations safe for the tall people she shouldn't have
left it to Larry and his brothers. There wasn't a one of them over 5' 6". Don't
blame me. Groomsman or not, I hadn't helped decorate the hall. It was not my
fault.

There were other things that I was going to get blamed for, but they weren't
my fault either. Well, mostly not my fault.

I'd escorted Jessica Arnet into the room. She hadn't smiled at me at all.
She'd looked way too serious. When Tammy's veil was safely secure once more,
Jessica had gone to the table where Micah and Nathaniel were sitting. She'd
leaned into Nathaniel, and when I say leaned, I mean it. Like leaned on him, so
that the line of her body touched his shoulder and arm. It was bold and discreet
at the same time. If I hadn't been watching for it, I might not have realized
what she was doing. She spoke quietly to him. He finally shook his head, and she
turned and wove her way through the small tables full of guests. She took the
last empty seat at the long table where the wedding party was trapped. The last
empty chair was beside me. We got to sit down in the order we'd entered. Goody.

In the middle of the toasts, after Larry's brother had made the groom blush,
but before the parents had had their turn, Jessica leaned over close enough that
her perfume was sweet and a little too much.

She whispered, "Does Nathaniel really live with you?"

I'd been afraid the question would be hard. This one was easy. "Yes," I said.

"I asked if he was your boyfriend, and he said that he slept in your bed. I
thought that was an odd way to answer." She turned her head so I was suddenly
way too close to her face, those wide-searching eyes. I was struck again by how
lovely she was, and felt stupid for not noticing sooner. But I didn't notice
girls, I noticed boys. So sue me, I was heterosexual. It wasn't her beauty that
struck me, but the demand, the intelligence, in her eyes. She searched my face,
and I realized that no matter how pretty she was, she was still a cop, and she
was trying to uncover the lie here. Because she had smelled one.

She hadn't asked me a question, so I didn't answer. I rarely got in trouble
by keeping my mouth shut.

She gave a small frown. "Is he your boyfriend? If he is, then I'll leave it
alone. But you could have told me sooner, so I wouldn't have made a fool of
myself."

I wanted to say, You didn't make a fool of yourself, but I didn't. I was too
busy trying to think of an answer that would be honest, and not get Nathaniel
and me in more trouble. I settled for the evasion he'd used. "Yes, he sleeps in
my bed."

She gave a small shake of her head, a stubborn look coming over her face.
"That isn't what I asked, Anita. You're lying. You're both lying. I can smell
it." She frowned. "Just tell me the truth. If you have a prior claim, say so,
now."

I sighed. "Yeah, I have a prior claim, apparently."

The frown deepened, putting frown lines between the pretty eyes. "Apparently?
What does that mean? Either he's your boyfriend, or he's not."

"Maybe boyfriend isn't the right word," I said, and tried to think of an
explanation that didn't include the words
pomme de sang
. The police
didn't really know how deeply involved with the monsters I was. They suspected,
but they didn't know. Knowing is different from suspicion. Knowing will hold up
in court; suspicion won't even get you a search warrant.

"Then what is the right word?" she whispered, but it held an edge of hiss, as
if she were fighting not to yell. "Are you lovers?"

What was I supposed to say? If I said, yes, Nathaniel would be free of
Jessica's unwanted attentions, but it would also mean that everyone on the St.
Louis police force would know that Nathaniel was my lover. It wasn't my
reputation I was worried about; that was pretty much trashed. A girl can't be
coffin-bait for the Master of the City and be a good girl. Most people feel that
if a woman will do a vampire, she'll do anything. Not true, but there you go.
No, not my reputation at stake, but Nathaniel's. If it got out that he was my
lover, then no other woman would make a play for him. If he didn't want to date
Jessica, fine, but he needed to date someone. Someone besides me. If I wasn't
going to keep Nathaniel forever, like almost death-do-you-part ever, then he
needed a bigger social circle. He needed a real girlfriend.

So I hesitated, weighing a dozen words, and not finding a single one that
would help the situation. I didn't know how to answer Arnet's question so I used
the old excuse of needing to go to the ladies' room. I wanted to avoid her, if I
could. And Micah, too. Micah had made me promise I'd dance with him. I hated to
dance. I didn't think I was good at it. In the privacy of our home, Micah, and
Nathaniel, and hell, Jason, had told me I was wrong. That I actually danced very
well. I did not believe them. I think it was a throwback to a rather horrible
junior high school dance experience. Of course, it was junior high, is there any
experience except horrible for those few years? In Hell, if you're really bad,
you must be fourteen forever, and be trapped in school, and never get to go
home.