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Chapter Five
I WASN'T SO angry that I forgot to check out the crowd as we moved, but I had to force the anger down to be able to see straight. I was actually more embarrassed than angry, which meant the fight could be all the worse for it. I hated being embarrassed, and usually masked it with anger. Even knowing that's what I did didn't change the fact that I did it. It just let me know why I was angry.
I actually waited until we were in the parking lot to say, "Nicky? What the fuck kind of name is that?"
"One I'd remember," he said.
I jerked away from him hard enough that he almost dropped the box. "I'm never going to be on stage again; I don't need a stage name."
"You don't want them to figure out your real name, do you?"
I frowned at him. "I'm in the news enough. They'll figure it out eventually."
"Maybe, but if you give them a stage name to remember, they'll think of you as a stripper, not as a federal marshal. You're embarrassed enough that Detective Arnet saw us on stage that night."
"Yes, and I'm still waiting for her to tell the rest of the police that she and I work with."
"But she hasn't," he said.
I shook my head.
"She can't admit she saw you without admitting she was there, and why," he said.
"Cops go to strip clubs all the time," I said.
"But she didn't go to see strippers, she went to see me."
That stopped me. Made me turn and stare at him. "What do you mean?"
"She came to the club on a night you weren't there. Since you've avoided the club as much as possible, that's a lot of the time. Can we have this conversation in the car?"
He had a point. I unlocked the car, and we climbed in. "Where's the other car?"
"I had Micah drop me off, so he'll have the car if he needs it. I knew you'd drive me home."
It made sense. I turned on the car so the heater would start working. I finally realized it was a little chilly. My anger had kept me warm even with my coat flapping open. "What do you mean, Arnet came to the club?"
"She paid to have a private dance."
I stared at him. "She did what?"
Detective Jessica Arnet worked on the Regional Preternatural Investigation Team, RPIT for short. It was the branch of local police that I worked with the most. I'd known she had a crush on Nathaniel, but I'd been so busy trying not to admit that I was living with a stripper that I'd kept him too much a secret. Until I brought him as a date to a wedding that Arnet was at. Then the secret was out, and she was mad at me for not telling her we were an item sooner. She seemed to feel like I'd let her make a fool of herself. She hadn't made a fool of herself, but she had come to Guilty Pleasures for the first time that one night that Nathaniel got me on stage. She was now convinced that I was abusing Nathaniel. Chain someone up on stage and hit them with a flogger a few times, and people think you're abusing them. Of course, the flogger had been Nathaniel and Jean-Claude's idea. A part of Nathaniel's regular show, apparently. What I'd done next had been all me, and Nathaniel. I had marked him, bitten him hard enough to bleed him, on stage. It had been the first time I'd voluntarily marked him like that, not just because the ardeur got out of control, but because he liked it, and I liked it, and I'd promised.
Arnet was convinced that I was Madame de Sade and Nathaniel was my victim. I'd tried explaining that Nathaniel was only a victim when he wanted to be, but she hadn't bought it. I'd been convinced she would tell the other cops and out me, badly. Living with a twenty-year-old stripper with juvenile arrests for prostitution was bad enough, but getting on stage myself, well, that would have been... oh, hell, bad.
"How private a dance did she get?"
He grinned. "Are you jealous?"
I thought about it for a second, then had to say, "Yeah, I guess so."
"That's so sweet," he said.
"Just tell me about Arnet."
"She didn't want the dance. She wanted to talk." He seemed to think about it for a second, then added, "Okay, she wanted the dance, a lot, but she was too uncomfortable with me to ask for what she wanted. We just talked."
"About?" I said.
"She tried to get me to admit that you were abusing me. She wanted me to leave you and save myself."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You were already worried about Arnet telling Zerbrowski and the other cops what she'd seen. You were in the middle of some messy murder investigation. I didn't figure you needed the hassle, and I handled it."
"Has she been back?"
He shook his head.
"Tell me next time, okay?"
"If you want."
"I want."
"She can't tell on you, because she'd be afraid you'd tell them that she has a thing for your stripper boyfriend. She doesn't want to admit that what bothered her the most about the show you and I did is that she liked it."
"I didn't think Arnet swung that way," I said.
"Neither did she."
I looked at him, studied that face. There was a look on it now. "Just say it, the look in your eyes, just say it."
"You hate most in others what you don't like in yourself."
"Huh."
"What?"
"I thought something almost identical to that earlier tonight."
"What about?"
I shook my head. "Do you really think giving Greg and his girlfriend a stage name for me will keep them from making the connection to Anita Blake?"
"Yeah, I do. They'll think of you as a stripper named Nicky and that's it. You won't be anything or any more to them than that."
"Strangely disturbing, but why Nicky, why that name?"
"Because I knew I'd remember it."
"Remember it, why?"
"Because it was my name when I did porn."
I blinked at him. "What?"
"Nicky Brandon is the name I used when I did movies."
I did the long blink, the one that meant I was thinking hard, or too surprised to think. "You gave me your pornography name?"
"Half of it," he said.
I didn't know what to say. Was I supposed to be flattered, or insulted? "I declare this fight over until I figure out if we're actually fighting."
"Trust me, Anita, this isn't a fight."
"Then how come I'm angry?"
"Let's see: there's some bad vamps in town messing with us, you always hate it when fans recognize Brandon the stripper, but tonight, for the first time, you got recognized from the one time you went on stage. If you're embarrassed by my job, you're even more embarrassed that anyone would think you could be a stripper."
"I'm not embarrassed about your job."
"Yeah, you are," he said.
I started the car. "I am not."
"Then next time you introduce me to your friends, don't call me a dancer, call me an exotic dancer."
I opened my mouth, closed it, and started backing up. I wouldn't do it. He was right. I'd keep introducing him as simply a dancer. "Do you want me to introduce you like that?"
"No, but I want you not to be ashamed of what I do."
"I'm not ashamed of you, or your job."
"Fine, have it your way." But his tone said clearly that he was letting me win, but that I was wrong, and hadn't won anything. I hated when he did that. He just stopped fighting in the middle of the fight, not because he'd lost, but just because he didn't want to fight anymore. How do you fight with someone who won't fight? Answer: you don't.
The real trouble was, he was right. I was embarrassed about his job. I shouldn't have been, but I was. When he was a teenager, he'd been a runaway, and a prostitute, and on drugs. He'd been off drugs for nearly four years. He'd been out of "the life" since he was sixteen. He'd done porn, and I knew that. But I didn't dwell on it. I assumed he'd stopped doing the movies about the same time he stopped hooking, but I wasn't sure of that. I hadn't really asked, had I? He was a wereleopard, which meant he couldn't catch any sexually transmitted disease. That helped me ignore his past. The lycanthropy killed everything that could injure the host body; it kept him healthy. It made it so that I could pretend he hadn't had more sexual partners than I wanted to know about.
I was trapped at the light across from St. Louis Bread Company when I said, "Want to hear what Jean-Claude told me about the mask?"
"If you want to tell me." He sounded mad.
"I'm sorry that I'm not completely comfortable with your job, okay?"
"Well, at least you admit it."
The light changed, and I eased forward. We'd had two inches of snow, and everyone here forgot how to drive in it. "I don't like to admit when I'm uncomfortable, you know that."
"Tell me what Jean-Claude said."
I told him.
"So they may be here for Malcolm and his church."
"Maybe."
"I'm surprised you didn't demand more answers on the phone."
"I didn't know what the happy couple wanted. Jean-Claude said we're not in danger, so I hung up."
"It's not my fault that they recognized us."
"You. They recognized you."
"Fine, they recognized me." He was back to being mad again.
"I'm sorry, Nathaniel, I'm really sorry. That wasn't fair."
"No, you're right. If we hadn't been out together they probably wouldn't have spotted you."
"I am not embarrassed to be seen with you in public."
"You hate it when fans recognize me."
"I thought I was pretty cool when that woman passed you her phone number at dinner, when you were out with Micah and me."
"She waited until you went to the bathroom."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" I turned onto 44 and headed toward the city.
"She didn't want to intrude on our date."
"She thought you and Micah were escorts, and that I was paying you for the evening."
"The last time she saw me that's what I was doing for a living, Anita."
"I know, I know. She passed you her number because she wanted to see you again, and the old number wasn't working. You're right, she was polite about it."
"I told her I was on a date-date, and she was embarrassed."
I still remembered the woman. She'd been slender and elegant and old enough to be Nathaniel's mother. Thanks to Jean-Claude I knew clothes, and she'd been wearing expensive ones. The jewelry had been understated, but very nice. She was one of those women who headed charity balls and sat on committees for the art museum, and she'd been hiring male prostitutes young enough to be her son.
"I think what bothered me about her was that she didn't look like someone who would..."
"Hire an escort," he finished for me.
"Yeah."
"I had a lot of different kinds of customers, Anita."
"I figured that."
"Did you, or did you try never to think about it?"
"Okay, the latter."
"I can't change my past, Anita."
"I didn't ask you to."
"But you want me to quit stripping."
"I never said that."
"You're embarrassed by it, though."
"For God's sake, Nathaniel, let it go. I'm embarrassed about being up on stage myself. I'm embarrassed that I fed on you in public." I gripped the steering wheel so tight it hurt. "When I fed the ardeur off you that night, I fed off the entire audience. I didn't mean to, but I fed on their lust. I felt how much they enjoyed the show, and I fed on it."
"And you didn't have to feed again for twenty-four hours."
"Jean-Claude took my ardeur and shared it around among you guys."
"Yes, but he thinks that one of the reasons he was able to do that is that you fed off the crowd, and me. I loved that you marked me in front of the crowd. You know how much I loved it."
"Are you saying that if I hadn't gone up on stage and accidentally fed from the crowd, the ardeur would have gotten out of control in the middle of that serial killer case?"
"Maybe."
I thought about that for a second as I drove. I thought about the ardeur going out of control in a van full of cops, Mobile Reserve cops, our answer to SWAT. I thought about the ardeur getting out of control while I was in a nest of vampires that had killed over ten people.
"If that's true, then why didn't Jean-Claude try to get me down to the club again?"
"He's offered."
"I've refused."
"Yeah," Nathaniel said.
"Why tell me now?"
"Because I'm mad at you," he said. He lowered his head on top of the box in his lap. "Because I'm mad that our date is ruined. I'm mad that some metaphysical crap is going to ruin our almost-anniversary."
"I didn't plan this," I said.
"No, but your life is always like this. Do you have any idea how hard it is to have a normal date with you?"
"If you don't like it, you don't have to stay in it." The moment I said it, I wished I hadn't, but I didn't take it back.
"Do you mean that?" he asked, in a low, careful voice.
"No," I said, "no, I don't mean it. I'm just not used to you picking at me. That's usually Richard's job."
"Don't compare me with him. I don't deserve that."
"No, you don't." Richard Zeeman had once been my fiance, but it hadn't lasted. I'd broken up with him when I saw him eat someone. He was the head of the local werewolf pack. He'd broken up with me when he couldn't handle that I was more comfortable with the monsters than he was. At the moment, we were lovers, and he was finally letting me feed the ardeur off him. I was his girlfriend in the preternatural community, lupa to his Ulfric, and he wasn't shopping to replace me in that part of his life. He was shopping for a completely human woman to replace me in the part of his life where he was a mild-mannered junior high science teacher. He wanted kids and a life that didn't include full moons and killer zombies. I didn't blame him completely. If I'd had an option for a normal life, I might have taken it. Of course, Richard really didn't have the option either. There was no cure for lycanthropy. But he was going to divide his life into pieces and try to keep all the pieces from finding out about the other parts. Sounded hard, hell, sounded like a recipe for disaster. But it wasn't my life, and so far he was just dating people. If he got serious about someone else, then we'd see how I felt about being the other woman.
"You missed the turn, Anita," Nathaniel said.
I cursed and braked too hard in the thin snow. I got the Jeep under control, then let us coast past our exit. I'd turn around. You could always turn around. "Sorry," I said.
"Thinking about Richard?" He tried for neutral and failed.
"Yeah."
"My fault, I guess; I brought him up."
"What's with the tone?" I asked. I turned into a section of town that was in the middle of being gentrified but hadn't quite made it yet. But we were headed back toward the riverfront.
"If Richard were a stripper, would you be embarrassed by him, too?"
"Drop this, Nathaniel, I mean it."
"Or what?" There was that first prickling run of energy over my skin. He was angry enough that it was making his beast peek out.
"You're picking on me tonight, Nathaniel. I don't need that."
"I believe that you love me, Anita, but you love me by hiding from what I am. I need you to accept who I am."
"I do."
"You tell Arnet that I'm not your victim, but you won't tie me up during sex. You won't abuse me."
"Don't start this again," I said.
"Anita, the bondage is part of who I am. It makes me feel safe and good."
This was one of the reasons I'd fought so long and hard to stay out of Nathaniel's love life. I did some stuff, nails, teeth, and I enjoyed it, but there were limits to my comfort level, and he'd been trying to push me past those limits in the last few weeks. I'd worried from the beginning that he wouldn't be happy with someone who was less into the bondage scene than he was, and that was exactly what was happening.
"In some ways you make me feel better about myself than anyone ever has, Anita, but you also make me feel bad about myself. You make me feel like an evil freak, because of what I want."
I found a parking spot just down the street from Guilty Pleasures's glowing neon sign. It was unusual to find parking this close to the club on a weekend. Parallel parking is not my best thing, so I concentrated on that, while part of me thought furiously about what to say to him.
I finally got us parked and turned off the car. The silence was thicker than I wanted it to be. I turned as far as the seat belt would allow and looked at him. He stared out the window away from me.
"I don't want to make you feel bad about yourself, Nathaniel. I love you, damn it."
He nodded, then turned and looked at me. The streetlight glittered on tears. "I'm terrified that I'm going to drive you away. My therapist says that I'm either a full partner in the relationship, or I'm not. Full partners ask for their needs to be met."
Truthfully, I'd thought his therapist would be on my side, but BDSM was no longer considered an illness. It was just another alternative lifestyle. Damn it.
"I want you to get what you need out of our... out of us."
"I'm not asking for that much, Anita. Just tie me up while we have sex. Then do what we would have done anyway. Nothing else."
I leaned over and brushed the tears from his cheeks. "It's not the tying up, Nathaniel. It's that once I say yes to that, what's next? And don't tell me there isn't a next."
"Tie me up, make love to me, and we'll go from there."
"That's what scares me," I said. "I say yes to this, and there'll be something else."
"And what's wrong with something else, Anita? What scares you isn't my needs, but that you might like it."
"That's not fair."
"Maybe not, but it's true. You like being held down during sex. You like it rough."
"Not all the time."
"And I don't like being tied up all the time, but I like it some of the time. Why is that wrong?"
"I'm not sure I can meet all your needs, okay? It was one of the things that worried me about us as a couple from the beginning."
"Then are you okay with me finding someone else to meet those needs? Sex with you, bondage with someone else?" He said it fast, as if he were afraid he'd lose his nerve.
I just stared at him. "Where the hell did this come from?"
"I'm trying to find out what the limits are, Anita, that's all."
"Do you want someone else?" I asked it, because I had to ask.
"No, but you have other people in your bed, and I'm okay with that, but if you won't meet my needs, then..."
"Are you saying that if I don't come across, you'll break up with me?"
"No, no." He hid his face with his hands and made a frustrated noise. His energy level swirled back through the car, like hot water spilling across my skin. He swallowed the power back and looked at me. He looked pained. "I need this, Anita. I want to do it with you, but I need it with someone. It's part of who I am sexually; it just is."
I tried to wrap my mind around letting Nathaniel play sex games with someone else, then come home to me. I couldn't do it. He was right; I was forcing him to share me with other men, but sharing him with another woman... "So what, you'd have tie-up games with someone else, then come home to me?"
"I can find a master who doesn't do sexual contact. I can find someone who will just do the bondage."
"But bondage is sex for you."
He nodded. "Sometimes."
"I can't do this tonight, Nathaniel."
"I'm not asking you to; just think about it. Decide what you want me to do."
"You're giving me an ultimatum; I don't deal well with ultimatums."
"It's not an ultimatum, Anita, it's just true. I love you, and I'm happier with you than I've ever been with anyone for this long. Honestly, I didn't think we'd still be together this long. Seven months is the longest relationship I've ever had. When I thought it would be like all the rest - a few months, then over - it wasn't a big deal. I could behave myself for a few months, until you got tired of me."
"I'm not tired of you."
"I know that. In fact, I think you're going to keep me. I didn't expect that."
"Keep you? You make yourself sound like a lost puppy that I picked up on the street. You don't 'keep' people, Nathaniel."
"Fine, pick a different word, but we're living together and it's working, and it might last years. I can't go years without having this need met, Anita."
"It might last years; you still talk about us like we won't last."
"Years is lasting," he said, "and everyone gets tired of me, eventually."
I didn't know what to say to that. "I'm not tired of you. Frustrated, puzzled as hell, but not tired."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I know that, and if I didn't feel secure enough, I wouldn't make any demands. I'd just go on being unhappy about this, but if you love me, then I can ask for what I want."
If you love me, he'd said. Jesus. "It must be true love, Nathaniel, because I'm not booting your ass to the curb for this."
"For what, asking for my sexual needs to be met?"
"Stop, just stop." I rested my forehead against the steering wheel and tried to think. "Can we please drop this for now, while I think about it?"
"Sure." His voice sounded hurt.
But his voice could sound hurt; I was out of my depth. "How long have you been saving this conversation up?" I asked, still resting against the wheel.
"I kept waiting for there to be a quiet time, when you weren't ass-deep in alligators, but..."
"But I'm always ass-deep in alligators."
"Yeah," he said.
I rose and nodded. That was fair. "I'll think about what you said, and that's all I've got tonight, okay?"
"That's wonderful. I mean it. I was afraid..."
I frowned at him. "You really thought I'd dump you because of this?"
He shrugged and wouldn't look at me. "You don't like demands, Anita, not from any of the men in your life."
I unbuckled my seat belt and slid over so I could turn him to look at me. "I can't promise that this won't eventually break me, but I can't imagine not waking up beside you most mornings. I can't imagine not having you puttering in our kitchen. Hell, it's more your kitchen than mine. I don't cook."
He kissed me and drew back with that smile that made his face shine with happiness. I loved that smile. "Our kitchen. I've never had an 'our' anything before."
I hugged him, partially because I wanted to, and partially to hide the expression on my face. On one hand, I loved him to pieces; on the other hand, I wished he had come with an instruction book. More than almost any other man in my life, he confused me. Richard hurt me more, but most of the time I understood why. I didn't like it, but I understood his motivation. Nathaniel was so far outside my comfort zone sometimes that I had no clue. That I understood vampires that had been alive over five hundred years better than I understood the man in my arms said something. I wasn't sure what it said, but something.
"Let's go inside before Jean-Claude wonders what happened to us."
He nodded, still looking happy. He got out on his side with the box in hand. I got out, hit the button to make the Jeep beep, and eased between the cars onto the sidewalk. He'd put his hat back on. Nathaniel in disguise. I put my left arm through his, and we walked over the melting snow toward the club. He was still all glowing from the "our" comment I'd made. Me, I wasn't glowing. I was worried. How far would I really go to keep him? Could I send him to a stranger for slap and tickle? Could I share him if I couldn't meet his needs? I didn't know. I really didn't know.
