Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, Book 14. Danse Macabre(94)
I tried to shake my head, found it hurt, so just said, «No.»
She knelt beside the bed, pleading at me with her eyes. It was a look I'd never seen from her. «Anita, they're all the wolves we have right now, please, don't make this harder.»
I swallowed and it hurt, as if I'd damaged things in my throat that wouldn't heal for a while. «No.»
Jean-Claude came to stand beside her kneeling figure. «Please, ma petite, do not be stubborn, not now.»
I frowned at him. What was I missing? What was I not understanding? Something. Something important, by the looks on their faces, but I just didn't want Graham to put his naked, erect body up against my naked body. I did not want to have sex with him, and once we were naked and in bed the odds of that went up. Sure, I was hurt, and I'd supposedly fed the ardeur really well, but call me paranoid, I just didn't want to risk it. But for my last shreds of moral dignity, Graham could have been in the running for daddy-to-be. That, more than anything else, kept my arm straight, and my lips saying no.
Claudia said, «You don't understand, it's not over.»
«What isn't over?» I managed to say it, in that deep, not-me voice, and then I knew. The wolf had thought it was getting out, getting help, that the pack would help it escape, free it from this prison, but I'd kept the feel of other wolves at bay. I'd refused to let them slide wolf scent and skin over my body, so the wolf went back to trying to get out and join them.
My arm didn't stay stiff, nothing on me did. I writhed on the bed like a bag of snakes, muscles and tendons moving in ways that should have ripped me apart. My skin should have split, and I almost wanted it to; I wanted the wolf to get out of me. To just stop hurting me. I'd thought the wolf was me; now I thought it was trying to kill me.
The smell of wolf was everywhere, thick and nose-wrinkling, sweet musk. My body lay still on the bed while tears leaked down my face, and I whimpered, not wolf sounds, but small, hurt, human ones. I thought I'd hurt before, but I'd been wrong. If you could force someone to feel this forever, they'd tell you anything, do anything, to make it stop.
I was lying between Graham and Clay. Their naked bodies were pressed as close as they could get, without putting any of their weight on top of me, as if they knew that that would hurt. They cradled me gently between them, their hands on my head, and on my good shoulder. They touched me as if I'd break, and it felt like they were right.
Graham's eyes had bled back to brown. The look on his face was worried. What had they seen that I hadn't? What was happening to me? Clay leaned over, pressed his lips against my cheek, and kissed me, gently. He whispered, «Change, Anita, just let it happen. It won't hurt like this, if you just let it happen.»
He raised his face up, and I saw that he was crying.
I heard the soft click as the door opened. I wanted to turn and look, but it had hurt the last time I did it. It didn't seem worth it. Besides, Graham's chest was blocking my view in that direction.
«How dare you order me into your presence?» Richard's voice, already angry.
«I tried to make it a request,» Jean-Claude said, «but you did not respond.»
«So you order me, like I'm your dog?»
«Ma petite needs your aid,» and Jean-Claude's voice held that first hint of anger, as if he was as tired of Richard's moods as I was.
«From what I can see,» Richard said, «it looks like Anita has plenty of help.»
Clay sat up enough to show a tear-stained face. «Help her, Ulfric. We are not strong enough.»
«If you want tips for satisfying her in bed, ask Micah; I'm really not that into sharing.»
«Are you Ulfric to her lupa, or not?» Micah came to stand at the foot of the bed, still nude, just like we'd woken up.
«That's wolf business, kitty-cat, not yours.»
«Stop it,» Clay yelled, «stop being an asshole, Richard, and be our leader. Anita is hurt.»
Richard finally came to the edge of the bed to peer over Graham's reclining body. His hair was sleep tousled, a thick brown-gold mass around his arrogantly handsome face. The arrogance slipped, and the guilt I'd begun to dread almost as much replaced it.
«Anita…«He made a painful sound of my name, so much pain in that one word. He crawled onto the bed, and showed that he was still wearing shorts. He'd either taken the time to dress, or slept clothed, very unlycanthrope. The other men made room for him, but they didn't leave the bed. He started to crawl over me, but the first touch tore small pain noises from me. He went up on his hands and knees above me, keeping his weight off me, but my wolf was too close to the surface. Richard putting himself above us like that meant he thought he was superior to us and my wolf didn't think he'd earned that. Neither did I.