Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, Book 14. Danse Macabre(123)
«You're not thinking clearly.» I started to get off the bed.
He grabbed my arm, in one of those too-quick-to-see movements. He winced, showed that it had cost him. «I have not made the choice you would make, if our places were reversed. I have not said what you wished me to say, but I have chosen.»
«Let go of me, Requiem.»
He looked at me, and smiled. «I do not wish to, and I am free not to obey. I fought to come back because you said only if I did, only then would you feed from me. Would you deny me now that I have fought the battle and won?»
«What if one feeding undoes it? What if the ardeur consumes you again?»
«If I am never again to be consumed by love, then what better than to be consumed by the ardeur?»
«You sound like a junkie who's had another taste after a long dry spell.»
«My heart has died twice. Once when my mortal life ceased and the second when Ligeia was taken from me. I have felt nothing for so very long, Anita. You make me feel again.» He sat up, drew me in toward him.
I put a hand on his chest, missing the knife wound by fractions. «The ardeur makes you feel again.»
He touched my face with his wounded hand. «No, there is something about you that has awakened my heart.»
I had a panicked feeling he was about to profess undying love. Maybe Jean-Claude did, too, because he moved forward and laid a hand on my arm.
Requiem kept his wounded hand against my cheek, but let go of my arm. He reached out to Jean-Claude, laid his hand against the other man's waist. I knew he couldn't feel much through the thick robe, but it was still the most intimate gesture I'd ever seen him make toward Jean-Claude.
«Always before your ardeur tasted of hers, Jean-Claude.»
He wasn't talking about me. He meant Belle Morte, because her without appellation always meant Belle for them. «Last night, Jean-Claude, you did not taste of her. You tasted of no one's power but your own. I knew you were a sourdre de sang, but until last night you were still a planet circling the sun of Belle Morte's power. Last night you became the sun and she the moon.»
«Belle was the moon,» I said.
He looked at me, smiling. «No, Anita, you were the moon. 'The moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.»
«You're quoting something,» I said.
«Shakespeare, ma petite. He's quoting Timon of Athens.»
«Haven't read that one,» I said. My pulse was in my throat, and it was making blood trickle from the wounds he'd made in my neck. «I don't need to feed the ardeur right now, Requiem, and with everything going all weird, I think I'll wait until I have to feed.»
«That is sense, Requiem,» London said.
Requiem gazed at the other vampire. «Would you wait?»
«With permission,» London said, «I would like to leave the room.»
«Go,» Jean-Claude said.
London didn't run for the door, but he didn't stroll either. Hell, if I could have run from it, I would have. But you can't run from yourself.
«Any who wish to go, go,» Jean-Claude said.
«The test will not work if we are not here,» Elinore said.
«The test is over. We are too dangerous, and we know it.»
Elinore didn't argue, she just walked out. Wicked took his brother by the arm, and led him out. Truth seemed to be weeping.
«What do you want us to do?» Remus asked.
«Guard us, if you can.»
«We can guard you,» he said, sounding slightly offended that Jean-Claude doubted it.
«Can you guard us from ourselves?» Jean-Claude asked.
«I don't understand,» Remus said.
Cisco had the gauze and tape. He stood by the bed, as if unsure what to do with the bandages. I touched my neck and came away with a little blood, but it had been a clean bite. It wouldn't bleed all that much, not if it had been done right, and knowing Requiem it had been.
«Do you need antiseptic?» Cisco asked.
Remus came to the bed, impatient. «You treat Anita like another shapeshifter.»
«Oh,» Cisco said. He started to set the first-aid supplies on the bed, then hesitated as if he didn't want to put them between Requiem and me. He was still wearing a gun, but the confident guard had vanished, replaced by an awkward eighteen-year-old.
«Give her some gauze so she can hold it against the wound,» Remus said. «The bandage is mostly to keep the cleanup to a minimum, not really for the wound.»
Cisco nodded like he understood, but he held the gauze out to me with his eyes nowhere near my face. In fact, he was sort of studiously trying not to look at me. I finally realized part of his problem. More of my chest was showing than when I'd started. Requiem's feeding had moved the front of the robe around, so that a lot of breast was showing. Not all, not more than a really low neckline would show, but it was distracting him. He was both trying not to stare at my chest, and staring at it, as he warred with himself.