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She hissed at me, all that careful beauty breaking down and showing the beast inside. She snatched at him around me, and he jerked back. She pawed at him like a cat, and I kept my body between them, moving us into the center of the circle. I felt Jason's back hit the wall, and I grabbed Yvette's arm.
"Feel his terror, Yvette. I can feel his heart pounding against my back. My holding his hand won't make him unafraid. Nothing I could do would make him not fear your touch."
Jason hid his face against my back, hands sliding around my waist. I patted his arm. His body was one throbbing beat as his heart, his blood, pumped through his body so hard I could feel it. His terror rode the air like a hot, invisible mist.
"Agreed," she said. She backed away to the center of the cleared floor. She held one pale hand out to us. "Come, Anita, bring our prize."
I slid in his arms until I was leading him by the hand again. His palms were sweating. I led him to stand with his back to her. He gripped my hands in both of his. His hands trembled. He stared at my face as if it were the only thing left in the world.
Yvette touched his back.
He whimpered. I drew him into me until our arms were touching, our faces only inches apart. I had no words of comfort. I could offer nothing but a hand to hold and something else to think about.
Yvette trailed her fingers around his shoulders until she came to the thongs that tied the vest. Her hands brushed the front of my body as she fumbled with the ties. I started to step back, and Jason's hands sang with tension. I stayed where I was, but my own pulse was beating in my throat. I was afraid of her, too, afraid of what she was.
She had to slide her hand around his waist to get the last tie, molding her body against his back. She licked his ear, a quick flick of her pale pink tongue.
He closed his eyes, bowing his head until our foreheads touched.
"You can do this," I said.
He nodded his head, eyes still closed, forehead still touching mine.
Yvette ran her hands up his back under the vest, then curved them around to his naked chest, running her nails down his flesh in a quick rush.
Jason gasped, and I realized in that instant that it wasn't just fear. He had slept with her before he knew what she was. She knew his body, knew how to bring him to passion as only a lover can. She'd use that against him now.
Jason drew his face back from mine. He looked at me, and he seemed lost.
She shoved the vest up around his shoulders and licked a long wet line up his spine.
He turned his face from me, so I wouldn't see his eyes. "It's all right if some of it feels good, Jason."
He turned back to me, and there were other things in his eyes beside fear. I'd been more comfortable with the fear, but he was the one hurting.
Yvette knelt and did something low on his back with her mouth. His knees buckled suddenly, taking us both to the floor. I ended up flat on my back with Jason on top of me. I had one leg free, which was a help and a hindrance, since it put him perfectly on top of me. I could tell his body was happy to be there. I wasn't sure about the rest of him. He was making small sounds low in his throat.
I scooted out from under him enough so that his groin wasn't pressing mine and I could sit up to see what Yvette had done to him. There were fangs marks low on his back near the spine. The blood beaded on the blue leather like it had been Scotch-garded.
His arms locked around my waist. "Don't leave me, please." His cheek was pressed against my waist. The tension in his body made my heart thud.
"I won't leave you, Jason." I stared at Yvette over his body.
She was kneeling with the white skirt pooled around her, as if a wandering photographer would be coming by. She smiled, and it reached her eyes, filling them with a dark, joyous light. She was enjoying the hell out of herself.
"You've fed. It's over," I said.
"That wasn't a feeding, and you know it. I've tasted him, but I haven't fed."
It had been worth a try. She was right. I knew she hadn't fed. "Then just do it, Yvette."
"If you had let me rot, then it would be quicker, but I want his terror and his pleasure. That takes longer."
Jason made a small sound, like a child crying in the dark. I looked out at Richard. He was still standing, but he wasn't angry with me now. There was real pain in his eyes. He'd have rather it be him than Jason. Like a true king he'd have taken the pain.
I smelled forest, rich and green, leaf mold so wet and new it made my throat tight. I stared at Richard and knew what he was suggesting. We'd had our little fight about the munin. He'd truly thought I was safe from them because I wasn't a shapeshifter. He hadn't known the marks I shared with him would put me at risk. But now it had possibilities. Not channeling Raina, I never wanted to do that again, but the power of the pack. Their warmth, their touch--that could help.
I closed my eyes and felt the mark open like curtains parting in my body. Jason raised his head, staring up at me. His nostrils flared, scenting me, scenting the power.
Yvette ripped the vest down his back like it was paper.
Jason gasped.
She licked along his body, then suddenly her mouth closed over his ribs. I saw the muscles in her jaw tense as Jason's body spasmed against me. He collapsed against me, hands scrambling along the floor as if he didn't know what to do with his them, or with his body.
Yvette drew back leaving neat red holes. Blood dripped from the wound. She licked her lips and smiled at me.
"Does it hurt?" I asked Jason.
"Yes," he said, "and no."
I started to raise him up.
Yvette put a hand in the middle of his back. "No, I want him on the ground. I want him below me."
I smelled the sharp musk of fur. Jason tried to look at me, but Yvette forced his head down into my lap. She used him to support her body while she peered into my face. "What are you doing?"
"I am his lupa. I call the pack to his aid."
"They cannot help him," she said.
"Yes," I said, "they can." I slid down, wriggling under Jason's body. The little black dress ended up about waist level. Everyone was getting a great view of the hose and undies. Good that everything matched. But I could see Jason's face. I could feel his body a little more than I wanted to. But it was his eyes I wanted, his face. I wanted him looking at me.
I'd never tried missionary position with a man exactly my height. The eye contact was incredibly intimate. He gave a nervous laugh. "I've had fantasies like this."
"Funny," I said. "I haven't."
"Ooh, too cruel." His spine bowed, body pressing against mine. Yvette had taken another taste. The fear was back in full force, filling his eyes with panic.
"I'm here. We're here."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He drew in the scent of leaves, and fur, and dark places full of bodies that all smelled like pack. And Yvette struck again.
Jason screamed, and I raised myself up enough to see that the vampire had pulled a strip of skin loose so it flapped. Blood poured down his skin.
Jean-Claude came to the edge of the circle. "That is torture, not feeding. It stops here."
"No," Yvette said, "I will feed."
"Then feed," Jean-Claude said, "but do it quickly before our patience is at an end."
She crawled up his body, putting her weight on top of his, grinding me into the floor. The leather stitching over his groin was ground so hard against me that it hurt. His breath came in quick pants, fast and faster. He was going to hyperventilate.
"Look at me," I said.
Yvette jerked his head back by the hair. "No, look at me. Because I will hurt you, Jason. I will haunt your dreams."
"No," I said. The power swelled inside of me, and I spit power into her pale face. Blood flew in a long, shallow cut down her cheek.
Everything froze. Yvette raised a hand to her bleeding cheek. "How did you do that?"
"If I said I wasn't really sure, would you believe me?"
"No," she said.
"Then believe this, bitch. Finish this now or I will cut you up." I believed it when I said it, even though I wasn't sure I could ever repeat the performance. Only master vampires could cause cuts like that from a distance. I'd never even seen Jean-Claude do it.
Yvette believed me. She leaned close enough that the blood from the cut dripped onto Jason's blond hair. "As you like, putain, but know this, I will not put him under. For this--" she showed the cut to me by a turn of her face--"he will suffer."
"Ain't it always the way," I said.
She frowned at me, not the response she was expecting apparently. I put a hand on either side of Jason's face, forced his eyes to meet mine. There was puzzlement under the fear now, because Jason knew I'd never done anything like what had just happened to Yvette. But we couldn't say, golly, gee whiz, how'd I do that in front of the bad guys?
Yvette shifted until her body was pressed along the length of Jason's. He moved against me. There was nothing between Jason and me but the leather of his pants and some satin. My body reacted. It was my turn to close my eyes so he wouldn't see. Maybe it was the physical reaction, but I was suddenly drowning in the scent of fur, and the warm, close knowledge of his body. The munin was here in a warm, building rush.
I lifted my face and kissed him. The moment our lips touched, the power flowed between us. It was a binding of a different sort, better than with Nathaniel, and I knew why. Nathaniel wasn't pack.
Jason didn't kiss me back at first; then he sank into my mouth, into the warm power, and the power grew until I could feel it like a small hot wind across my body, across our bodies. The power flowed over Yvette and made her cry out. She plunged fangs into Jason's neck. He screamed into my mouth, body stiffening, but the pain rode on the warm, building power and was washed away.
I could feel Yvette's mouth like a siphon, sucking the power away. I thrust it into her and sent her reeling from us, drunk on more than blood.
Freed of Yvette's body, Jason moved against me. He kissed me as if he'd climb inside and pull me around him, and I kissed him back. I'd welcomed Raina's munin, and I didn't know how to turn it off.
I felt his lower body react, felt him come, and that was enough to help me swim back into control. What a nice embarrassing moment to be driving again.
Jason collapsed on top of me, panting, but not from fear. I turned my face away so that I wouldn't catch a glimpse of anyone gathered around us. Yvette lay on her side near us, curled into a ball, blood trailing down her chin. She licked the blood, almost halfheartedly as if even that small effort were too much. She spoke French to me: "Je reve de toi." I'd heard a version of this before from Jean-Claude. She said she'd dream of us.
I heard myself say, "Why do the French always know exactly what to say at times like this?"
Jean-Claude knelt beside us. "It is genetic, ma petite."
"Ah," I said. I had trouble meeting his eyes with Jason still sprawled across my body.
"Jason," I said, tapping his bare shoulder. He said nothing, just rolled off me to lie on the floor, closer to Yvette than I'd have ever thought he'd be willing to get.
I suddenly realized that my skirt was still up around my waist. Jean-Claude helped me sit up while I wiggled the dress down.
Richard knelt with us. I expected a scathing remark. I'd certainly given him enough ammo for one. He surprised me by saying, "Raina, gone, but not forgotten."
I said, "No joke."
"I'm sorry, Anita. When you told me, I didn't realize it was an almost complete melding. I understand why you're afraid of it now. There are things you can do to keep it from happening again. I was too angry at you to believe it was this bad." A look crossed his face, part pain, part confusion. "I am sorry for that."
"If you can keep that from happening again, apology accepted."
Padma was suddenly looming over us. "You and I will dance next, Ulfric. After the show your lupa gave us, I am more eager than ever to taste you."
Richard glanced at me, then at Jason and Yvette, both still lying on the ground as if any movement was too much. "I don't think I'm that good."
"I think you underestimate yourself, wolf," Padma said. He offered Richard a hand, but he stood on his own. The two men were almost the same height. They stared at each other, and I could already feel the power flaring between them, testing each other.
I lay against Jean-Claude's chest and closed my eyes. "Get me out of here before they start. I can't stand to be near this much power so soon." He helped me to stand, and when my legs wouldn't hold me, he scooped me up in his arms, holding me effortlessly. He just stood there holding me, as if expecting me to protest.
I put my arms around his neck and said, "Just do it."
He smiled, and it was wondrous. "I have wanted to do this for a very long time." Was it romantic to be carried in his arms at last? Yes. But when Jason managed to stagger from the floor, the front of his blue leather pants was stained, and that wasn't romantic at all.
