«Do you believe your sons are so human?» Jean-Claude asked.
«Sampson is well over seventy in human years, so no, not so very human.»
I looked at Sampson. He looked somewhere in his early twenties, maybe thirty at most. By no stretch of the imagination did he look seventy. «My,» I said, «you're holding up well.»
He grinned at me, and I liked the grin. He seemed to find the whole power game a little embarrassing, a little funny. «Clean living,» he said, still grinning.
Richard moved beside me, a small, uncomfortable movement. I glanced at him, and his face was beginning to darken. One of Richard's biggest problems with our new lifestyle was jealousy. Of all the men trying to be in my life, he was the only one who found jealousy a real problem. Until I saw that look on his face, I'd been able to ignore that they were still talking about Sampson and me being lovers. I'd gotten better at pushing away the uncomfortable bits until I had to deal with them. Richard was still working on that.
«Thomas and Cristos seem to be aging at a more normal rate.»
«They are only seventeen,» Jean-Claude said, «too young to be certain, surely.»
Samuel shrugged, a normal shrug, not that graceful Gallic movement.
«But for this, I think they are too young, too human, whatever Thea may wish.»
«He's afraid you'd break them,» Sampson said.
I couldn't help smiling. Richard's frown got deeper. «And your dad isn't worried about you?» I asked.
«He is my oldest,» Samuel said, as if that meant more to him than it did to me.
«If you break me, he has two sons left,» Sampson said, smiling to take the bite out of it.
Samuel touched his son's arm. «I hold all my children precious, you know that.»
He smiled at his father, patted his hand where it lay on his arm. «I know that, Father, but for this kind of power you'd risk one of us, and I'm the most likely to survive without becoming her slave.»
«My slave?» I made it a question. «I don't do slaves.»
Sampson looked at me as if he were studying me, a shadow of his father's penetrating stare. «If Augustine is not your slave it will only be because he is powerful enough to recover. Not for lack of trying on your part, and I am not nearly as powerful as a Master of the City.»
I opened my mouth, closed it, not sure what to say. I finally said, «I don't want anyone to be my slave.»
«Then what did you want?» He kept his suddenly serious eyes on me.
I just blinked at him, trying to think. What had I wanted? What had I intended to do to Auggie? «Win,» I said.
«What?» Sampson asked.
«Win. I wanted to win. Auggie and your father are supposed to be Jean-Claude's friends. But your mother had almost rolled me. She'd tried to raise the ardeur and make me fuck your brother, your little brother. Then Auggie raised the ardeur, and used his bloodline's special ability on me. If this is what Jean-Claude's friends do to us, then what are the other Masters of the City going to do?» I shook my head, leaning forward on the couch, still holding Jean-Claude's hand, but having to put my hand on Richard's thigh to keep touching him, too. «We had to win this fight. Had to.»
«You had to win in such a way that the rest of us would not try your strength,» Samuel said.
I nodded. «Yes.»
He looked past us to the hallway beyond, so searching a look that it made Richard and me look behind us. Neither Jean-Claude, nor the silent Asher, bothered, as if they knew there was no one there.
«I believe you have succeeded, Anita. If Augustine follows you and Jean-Claude about like a lovesick puppy, then the rest will fear you. Some may even take back their offers of pomme de sang for fear of having you feed off them the way you fed off Augustine's people.»
«We fed from Augustine's people because he is their master,» Jean-Claude said. «No others offer themselves to ma petite's bed.»
«Perhaps,» Samuel said, «but I think if they did know what has happened with Augustine, they might be tempted. There is something about her that draws one. Even I feel it, and I am not of Belle's line.»
«How strongly drawn?» Jean-Claude asked in that careful voice.
The two vampires looked at each other. There was suddenly something between them, not magic, but almost as if willpower could be something touchable.
«That is an odd question,» Samuel said.
«Is it?» Jean-Claude asked, and his voice held a lilt at the end that sounded strangely chiding.
Samuel settled back against the love seat, as if he was going to be there for a while. Somehow they both knew they were negotiating. «It was surprisingly bad manners for Augustine to have started a fight with your human servant.»