There was a knock on the door. Larry went for the door.
Jean-Claude was suddenly standing by me. I hadn't seen him move. Hadn't heard his leather boots slither over the carpet. Nothing. Magic. My heart was suddenly thudding in my throat.
"Stomp your feet or something when you do that."
"Do what, ma petite?"
I glared up at him. "That wasn't a mind trick, was it?"
"No," he said. That one word slithered across my skin like a low creeping breeze.
"Damn you," I said softly and with feeling.
He smiled. "We've been over that, ma petite; you are too late."
Larry had closed the door. "There's a guy out in the hall says he's with Jean-Claude."
"A guy or a vampire?" I asked.
Larry frowned. "Not a vampire, but if you mean human I wouldn't go that far."
"You expecting company?" I asked.
"Yes, I am."
"Who?"
He stalked to the door and put a hand on the doorknob. "Someone I believe you've already met." He opened the door with a flourish, stepping to one side to let me have a clear view.
Jason stood in the open door, smiling, relaxed. He was my height exactly, not something you find in a man often. Straight blond hair barely touched the top of his collar; his eyes were the innocent blue of spring skies. The last time I'd seen him he'd been trying to eat me. Werewolves will do that sometimes.
He was dressed in an oversized black sweater that hit him almost at mid-thigh. He'd had to roll the sleeves over his wrists. His pants were leather, laced up the side from waist to mid-calf, where the laces vanished into boots. The lacings were loose enough that there was a pale line of flesh all the way down.
"Hello, Anita."
"Hi, Jason. What are you doing here?"
He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'm Jean-Claude's new pet."
He said the last word like it was alright. Richard wouldn't have said it that way.
"You didn't tell me you brought company," I said.
"We are going to be calling on the Master of the City. We must make a good show of it."
"So a werewolf, and what... me?"
He sighed. "Yes, ma petite, whether you bear my marks or not, most consider you my human servant." He raised a hand. "Please, Anita, I know you are not my human servant in the technical sense. But you have helped me defend my territory. You have killed to protect me. That is the best definition of what a human servant does."
"So, what? I have to pretend to be your human servant on this visit?"
"Something like that," he said.
"Forget it."
"Anita, I need a show of strength here. Branson was part of Nikolaos's territory. I gave it up because the population density could support another group. But it was still my land, and now it's not. Some view that as weakness rather than practicality."
"So without any marks at all you've finally got me to play servant for you. You manipulative son of a bitch."