wasn't my memory. It was Jean-Claude's. Asher and he had been companions for over twenty years, once upon a time.
I sighed and started to pull away.
Asher leaned his chin on the top of my head. "You need someone's arms that you don't feel threatened by."
I leaned against him, eyes closed, and for just a moment let him hold me. "The only reason this feels so good is that I'm remembering someone else's pleasure."
Asher gently kissed the top of my head. "Because you see me through the nostalgia of Jean-Claude's memories, you are the only woman in over two hundred years who doesn't treat me like a circus freak."
I leaned my face against the bend of his arm. "You are devastatingly handsome, Asher."
He smoothed the hair from my bruised cheek. "To you, perhaps." He leaned over me and laid the softest of kisses on my cheek.
I pulled away from him, gently, almost reluctantly. What I remembered of Asher was simpler than anything I was trying to pull off in this lifetime.
Asher didn't try to hold me. "If you were not already in love with two other men, the way you look at me might be enough."
I sighed. "I'm sorry, Asher I shouldn't touch you like that. It's just ... " I didn't know how to put it into words.
"You treat me like an old lover," Asher said. "You forget and touch me as if you'd touched me before when it is always the first time. Do not apologize for that, Anita. I enjoy it. No one else will touch me so freely."
"Jean-Claude will," I said. "These are his memories."
Asher smiled and it was almost sorrowful. "He is loyal to you and to Monsieur Zeeman."
"He's turned you down?" I asked and wished I hadn't.
Asher smile brightened, then dimmed. "If you would not share him with another woman, would you truly share him with another man?"
I thought about that for a second or two. "Well, no." I frowned up at him. "Why do I feel like apologizing for that?"
"Because you share with Jean-Claude and myself the memories of Julianna and the two of us. We were a very happy menage a trois for almost longer than you have been alive."
Julianna had been Asher's human servant. She'd ended up burned as a witch by the same people that had scarred Asher. Jean-Claude couldn't save them both. I wasn't sure that either of them had truly forgiven Jean-Claude for this oversight.
Damian said, "If I'm not interrupting, I need to feed." He was standing by the door, hugging himself as if he were cold.
"You want me to open the door and yell dinner?" I asked.
"I want permission to go feed," he said.
I frowned at the phrasing but said, "Go find one of our walking donors and help yourself. Just our people, though. We can't hunt here."
Damian nodded, standing up straighter as if he'd been hunched in upon himself. I could feel that he was hungry, but it wasn't hunger that made him huddle. "I will not hunt."
"Good," I said.
He hesitated, with his hand on the doorknob. His back was to me, but his voice came low, "May I go and feed?"
I glanced at Asher. "Is he talking to you?"
Asher shook his head. "I think not."
"Sure, help yourself."
Damian opened the door and slipped outside. He left the door slightly ajar.
"What is his problem lately?" I asked.
"I think he must answer that question," Asher said.
I turned and looked at him. "Does that mean you can't answer the question or won't answer it?"
Asher smiled and his face moved freely, even the scarred skin. He was having consultations with a plastic surgeon in Saint Louis. No one had ever tried to repair holy water damage on vamps, so they didn't know if it would work, but the doctors were hopeful. Hopeful but cautious. The first operation was still months away.
"It means, Anita, that some fears are very personal."
"Are you saying Damian's afraid of me?" I didn't try to keep the astonishment out of my voice.
"I am saying that you must speak to him directly if you want answers."
I sighed. "Great, just what I need. Another complicated male in my life."
Asher laughed, and it slid along my bare arms like a touch, raising gooseflesh. The only other vampire that could do that to me was Jean-Claude.
"Stop that," I said.
He gave a low, sweeping bow. "My most sincere apologies."
"Bullshit," I said. "Go get dinner. I think the werewolves are planning some sort of party or ceremony."