Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, Book 14. Danse Macabre(101)
«She fought, fought it to a standstill.»
He looked at me, eyes narrowing. «You can't do that, no one can.»
«Never underestimate how stubborn Anita can be,» Richard said from across the room. «You'll regret it, if you do.»
I looked at him. He'd taken one of the chairs near the fireplace, as far from the bed as he could get without leaving the room. He was mostly in shadow, so that I couldn't see his face well. But then again, maybe I didn't want to see his face right then.
«Don't mistake force of will for stubbornness,» Micah said. «There is a difference.»
«It looks the same to me,» Richard said.
«It would,» Micah said.
A low growl trickled from Richard, and it echoed through the room, much the way Jean-Claude's sigh had. The sound made me shiver but not with the promise of sex; it flared across my skin like heat, and the lion reacted to it. She spilled into my skin like the leopard had done, like the wolf had done. I was suddenly writhing on the bed, screaming again. I did not want to hurt again. But if I didn't want to be wolf, I sure as hell didn't want to be lion. I didn't even know the lion pride here well. Shit. If sheer force of will was keeping me in human skin, my will was getting worn down. Eventually, I'd lose this fight. I didn't want it to be now.
I reached out for Cookie. He grabbed my hand, almost by reflex. I dragged him down to me, and he didn't fight me. He could have, but he came to me. He laid his body on top of mine while the lion tried to come out. She stretched, stretched, impossibly huge, trying to thrust claws out through my fingers and toes. She couldn't come out, but those metaphysical claws cut through my skin. I screamed. I raised my hands up to hold him to me, and there was blood flowing down my fingers. Sweet Jesus, help me.
From far away I heard Cookie say, «What do I do?»
«Kiss her,» someone said.
He kissed me. The moment his mouth touched mine, I let the lion go. I let it plow into him. With Nathaniel I'd tried to be a little controlled, but I was all out of control today.
It hurt for it to leave me, like someone had thrust a shovel down my throat and was digging out my internal organs in one ripping, burning line. I screamed into his mouth, and he screamed back. He kept his mouth on mine, even while his body began to writhe in pain. His hands dug into the bed on either side of me, holding on, holding on, while that line of tearing, ripping, burning power ripped him open. There was no moment of bones sliding, or reshaping. One minute he was human, the next his skin had exploded outward, raining on the room in thick wet globs. The body under my hands was dry and furred, and the cheek I touched had a fringe of thick, golden mane. I had to wipe thick goo out of my eyes to be able to see. I wiped off bits of him that were thicker than clear liquid. The power had literally blown him apart. I had a moment to wonder if his tattoos would survive; then I could see his face.
His eyes were golden, in a face that was a pale gold, with a mane around his head like a furry halo. The face was that strangely graceful mix of human and cat. His shoulders were broader than the leopards', everything more muscular. His suddenly nude body was pressed between my legs, but not happy to be there. I had a glimpse of his tail flicking behind him, then he collapsed, partially on me and partially beside me.
Where his weight hit, my body hurt. I made a small sound, and he rolled off me and lay there on the liquid-soaked sheets. He looked like some primitive golden god hunted to death. I lay where I was, covered in something I didn't even want to see. It felt too thick, too… just too. I tried not to look at it, or think about it. I lay there covered in bits of his body, and knew I'd hurt him, badly.
«I'm sorry,» I said, and my voice was an abused whisper.
He rolled golden eyes up to look at me. «That fucking hurt.»
Micah came to the edge of the bed. He took one of my hands in his, and looked at my fingers. «You were bleeding from under your nails. If he hadn't taken your beast when he did,» he shrugged, «it might have been too late.»
That scared me. It tightened my stomach, and even that hurt, as if I'd abused muscles that I didn't know I had.
«Thank you, Cookie, more than you'll know.»
The lionman said, «Did you just call me Cookie?»
«Sorry, it's the hair, Cookie Monster blue, and the tat.»
«Haven. My name's Haven.» I think he smiled, but it was hard to tell on the lionish face, from the angle I had. «Though Cookie Monster works just fine.»
«I said Cookie, not Monster.»
«You haven't seen me at my best, yet» he said, and smiled for sure.
I did not understand the comment. Micah did. «He's implying he's big.»