I laid my lips against his forehead. "I thought you were more secure than this."
"I am," he said, "with everyone but you."
I pulled back enough to study his face. "Love should make you feel more secure not less."
"Yes," he said quietly, "it should. But you love Richard, too. You try not to love him, and he tries not to love you. But love is not so easily slain -- or so easily aroused."
I bent over him. The first kiss was a mere brush of lips like satin rubbing against my mouth. The second kiss was harder. I bit lightly along his upper lip, and he made a small sound. He kissed me back, hands sliding to either side of my face. He kissed me as if he were drinking me down, trying to lick the last drops from the bottle of some fine wine, tender, eager, hungry. I collapsed against him, hands sliding over him as if even my hands were hungry for the feel of him.
I felt his fangs, sharp, bruising against my lips and tongue. There was a quick, sharp pain and the sweet copper taste of blood. He made a small inarticulate sound and rolled over me. I was suddenly on the bed with him above me. His eyes were one solid glowing blue, the pupils gone in a rush of desire.
He tried to turn my head to one side, nuzzling at my neck. I turned my face into his, blocking him. "No blood, Jean-Claude."
He went almost limp on top of me, face buried in the rumpled sheets. "Please, ma petite."
I pushed at his shoulder. "Get off of me."
He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling, carefully not looking at me. "I can enter every orifice of your body with every part of me, but you refuse me the last bit of yourself."
I got off the bed carefully, not sure my knees were steady. "I am not food," I said.
"It is so much more than mere feeding, ma petite. If only you would allow me to show you how very much more."
I grabbed the pile of blouses and started taking them off the hanger and folding them in the suitcase. "No blood; that is the rule."
He rolled onto his side. "I have offered you all that I am, ma petite, yet you withhold yourself from me. How can I not be jealous of Richard?"
"You're getting sex. He's not even getting dates."
"You are mine, but you are not mine, not completely."
"I'm not a pet, Jean-Claude. People aren't supposed to belong to other people."
"If you could find a way to love Richard's beast, you would not hold back from him. Him you would give yourself to."
I folded the last blouse. "Damn it, Jean-Claude, this is stupid. I chose you. All right? It's a done deal. Why are you so worried?"
"Because the moment he was in trouble, you dropped everything to run to his side."
"I'd do the same for you," I said.
"Exactly," he said. "I have no doubt that you love me in your way, but you love him, too."
I zipped up the suitcase. "We are not having this argument. I'm sleeping with you. I am not going to donate blood just to make you feel more secure."
The phone rang. Asher's cultured voice, so like Jean-Claude's: "Anita, how are you this fine summer evening?"
"I'm fine, Asher. What's up?"
"May I speak with Jean-Claude?" he asked.
I almost argued, but Jean-Claude had his hand out for the phone. I gave the phone to him.
Jean-Claude spoke in French, which he and Asher had a habit of doing. I was glad that he had someone to speak his native tongue with, but my French just wasn't up to following the conversation. I suspected strongly that sometimes the vampires spoke in front of me like you would speak in front of a child that doesn't have enough grown-up talk to follow the conversation. It was rude and condescending, but they were centuries-old vampires, and sometimes they just couldn't help themselves.
He switched to English, talking directly to me. "Colin has refused you entrance to his territory. He has refused entrance to any of my people."
"Can he do that?" I asked.