He gave the quick grin again. «No. She may not hold the ardeur, but the sex is still amazing. I've done vamps before, but never Belle Morte's bloodline. If Meng Die is an example of what they have to offer in bed, then my new goal in life is to be one of their pommes de sang.»
«I thought you wanted to be Anita's pomme,» Nathaniel said.
Graham looked a little startled, as if he'd said more than he'd meant to say. «If Anita would feed the ardeur off me, just once, I might never look at another woman, but until she does…«He let the sentence fade, but it summed up why Graham was not a strong contender for me. He didn't really want me, he wanted the ardeur. If any of the other female vamps from London had held the ardeur, he'd have chased them instead of me, or as well as me. Not very flattering — to him, or to me.
«Until I do, you're keeping your options open,» I said.
He shrugged. «I gave all my options up for Meng Die, and she kept Clay and Requiem on her string. I shared her with Clay in a way I've never shared anyone.» He looked sad for a moment, then it passed. I wasn't sure if it passed because his sorrow was that shallow, or he had pushed it away. «Anita isn't going to give up all of you guys for me. Why should I give up everyone else just for a chance to be in her bed? I mean, just for a chance, not even the certainty of it.»
«I didn't ask Requiem to sacrifice his libido to me.»
«You never ask anyone to give up other people for you, but if they don't, you don't sleep with them,» Graham said.
And that was a little closer to the truth than I wanted to hear. I hadn't asked Requiem to give up Meng Die, but the fact that he was fucking her had been a point against him. Why? One, because I simply did not like her. Two, Graham was right, I didn't share my men. Not with other women. The fact that I then expected them to share me with about half a dozen other men, well… Not fair. Not fair at all.
4
THE STAIRS ENDED in a small room with a door at the other end of it. The door was heavy wood and metal like the door to a dungeon, and in front of that door stood Clay, werewolf and bodyguard. He came toward us, hurrying, which wasn't good. The look on his face wasn't good either. He looked worried.
Graham was all business, the mantle of bodyguardness sliding over him so that that was all that was left. When he actually concentrated on business instead of trying to get into my pants, he was one of the best of the wolves for bodyguard duty. «What's wrong?» he asked.
Clay shook his head. «Jean-Claude isn't with you?» His tone of voice made it half question.
«No,» Graham said.
«What's wrong?» I asked, thinking maybe if we kept asking the question he'd answer it.
«Nothing.» He looked at me, and smiled an apology. «Nothing except that we've got a room full of guests and no hosts. It's just me and the four other bodyguards in the room. We aren't even allowed to offer refreshments without one of the dominants being present.»
«Are you this worried because you think we're being bad hosts?» Micah asked.
Clay seemed to think about it, then nodded. He did that apologetic smile again. «Yeah, I guess I am.»
Clay was as tall as Graham, but his hair was blond, curly, and careless. Where Graham took time and attention with his appearance, Clay just didn't seem to care. He wasn't sloppy, just comfortable. He was wearing the same black-on-black outfit, but he'd put black jogging shoes with his slacks, not dress shoes. He looked good, but a little uncomfortable out of his jeans. I sympathized.
«Stupid,» he said, «but yeah, I think the evening is starting off badly. I mean, Jean-Claude gets a message and has to run out. The two Masters of the City are all right so far, but the two women are sniping at each other. The muscle, or food, or whatever they are, just stands around looking grim, or pouty-seductive. It has the feel of something that could go south if we don't have someone to help keep it friendly.»
I took that last seriously. Clay worked security at Guilty Pleasures, and he was good at spotting trouble before it got started. It made him invaluable at the club.
«Exactly what did Meng Die do to make Asher send for Jean-Claude tonight of all nights?» I asked.
He sighed. «I'm not a hundred percent sure, but it had to be bad or Asher wouldn't have called him away from the other masters.»
I could have opened the vampire marks between us and found out what Jean-Claude was doing, but he'd warned me against doing that with new vamps in town. One, we were trying to hide some of my powers under the proverbial basket; two, Jean-Claude wasn't a hundred percent certain that some of the Masters of the City might not be able to listen in to such communications. His phrase: such communications. So, unless it was a true emergency, no mind-to-mind communication until everyone left town.