to free him.
At no time did the crosses on the wall even so much as shimmer, not even when Darkrose passed them. Normally when a vampire expressed ill will or anger or even got a little cross—ha—in front of a crucifix, it would flare up like magnesium. Even the religious tats on my knuckles tingled sometimes when I faced a pissed-off vampire. But despite Savannah’s scowl—I got nothing. No flares, no tingles, no sign she bore me any ill will.
Interesting.
“Your self-control is extraordinary,” I said.
“I have help,” Savannah replied. “You’re not helping, but I have help.”
I scowled at her. I knew exactly what she meant—she was saying she was drawing on her Christian faith, on Jesus, to help her handle her hour of trial—me. The whole idea of hearing this from a lesbian vampire in a fetish bondage outfit continued to leave me speechless, and Savannah took the opportunity to deliver a lecture that I’d heard before.
“Dakota. I am a vampire now,” she said. “I have entered a whole new world, with rules and customs that have evolved over the centuries to keep us civil. Here, we leave our human names behind to protect our loved ones. In this world, I am the Lady Saffron. You are not to use my human name in front of a fellow vampire—”
“And what name do you still write on your scientific papers?” I asked.
After a moment, Savannah replied, “Savannah Winters.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked. “It’s a beautiful name. I loved your name. You could have been Lady Savannah—”
“It was taken,” Savannah said, a little piqued. She looked at me, hurt maybe. “You think I didn’t try?”
“Not very hard.” I said. I was starting to wonder what I had seen in her. “Just like you didn’t try very hard to stay human after I begged you not to become a vampire.”
The side door opened, and the Lady Darkrose appeared, having donned a long, shimmering transparent coat and acquired a small, boxy purse.
“Excuse me,” she said—speaking directly to me, oddly subdued. Then she leaned in to kiss Savannah’s cheek, and said softly, “I am stepping out.”
“Oh please don’t,” Savannah said, oddly pleading. “We never have time to play anymore. Dakota and I will be done in a minute—”
“You two will be arguing for an hour,” Darkrose said, in her odd accent. “I am just going clubbing. And it is not like I am leaving you to your own devices.”
“Aw, c’mon,” Savannah said, very quietly.
“You’re not leaving us like this, are you?” Doug asked, whining through his mask. His leg shifted, at which point I noticed that the metal codpiece of his shorts was actually a cage, hiding nothing—at which point I immediately looked away, turning quite red.
“Please, Brer Rabbit, don’t throw me in the briar patch,” Darkrose responded, touching Savannah’s glorious red hair tenderly. Then, impulsively, she leaned down and kissed her.
Two lesbians kissing for real is nothing like you see in porno. It’s nothing showy, no flicking tongues or exaggerated heavy breathing. It’s simple and pure and as natural as any man kissing a woman: a moment of attraction, a moment of vulnerability, a moment of pure tenderness as lips press against lips and eyes close with bliss.
I turned away. Savannah had found someone, and I was watching my more than adequate replacement. That stung like a son of a bitch.
I heard the clacking boots again, and shifted to look at Darkrose as she approached. She was tall for a woman, easily six-one counting the boots, which left her over an inch shorter than me not counting my boots. And, yes, I am petty enough to like being taller than Girlfriend 2.0.
“A pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Frost,” she said. She was having a far better time than I would, coming face to face with a lover’s ex-girlfriend; in fact she seemed to be enjoying herself as she looked at the pair sitting on the throne, then back at me. “Have fun.”
“So…” Savannah said, shifting uncomfortably on the throne and scowling. “Now that you’ve ruined our Friday evening, could you finish telling me why and then get the hell out?”
“Well, uh,” I said, kneading my brow, trying not to look at Doug’s crotch. The cage was surprisingly distracting, once you noticed it. “Uh, I’m—”
“Spill it,” Savannah said.
“I need to go to a werehouse,” I said. “I’m doing a tattoo for a werewolf, and Jinx needs to consult with another werewolf about it before she can clear the design. But there