His hand was warm in mine. That meant he'd fed on someone. It had been a willing blood donor. Women, especially, lined up to feed him. In fact, one of the reasons I'd spent the last few weeks going through a stack of photographs and DVDs with some help from the other men had been that we needed more regular food. Other vampire and wereanimal groups across the country had sent in applications for some of their people to join us. The DVDs had been everything from flat-out porn to strangely awkward dating tapes. It was like the old idea of an arranged marriage, though this was more an arranged mistress, sort of. The groups hoped it would give them a stronger tie to our power base, and it might.
They'd been sending candidates to Jean-Claude for a while, and he had politely turned them all down. This last batch came addressed to me, personally. They seemed to feel that Jean-Claude had turned everyone down for fear of pissing me off, and there might be something to that, so I'd sat down and watched. I'd had Nathaniel and Micah help some, and Jason, but none of the vampires. I hadn't done that on purpose, but . . .
Who had Jean-Claude fed on? For a second I wanted to ask, and then I let it go. I didn't really want to know. Taking blood was entirely too close to foreplay for the vampires of his bloodline. Of course, he shared me with a lot of other men, so my being jealous of him taking blood from some other woman seemed childish and unfair. But just because it's childish and unfair doesn't mean it isn't the way I felt. Stupid, but true.
The lights went down and I was saved from having to think too hard as the curtain rose. I got to sit in the dark holding the hands of two of the men I loved most. It wasn't a bad way to start the weekend. I noticed Monica watching us. Was it envy on her face, or anger? I turned back to the stage and left Monica to get her face back to its usual polite I-like-you expression. Usually I liked the truth from everyone around me, but I'd make an exception for her. I knew not to trust her, so she could pretend to like me, and I'd pretend to like her. It wasn't friendship, but it was an understanding.
The music came up; I hugged Micah and Jean-Claude to me, and watched Asher holding Jean-Claude's other hand. Even in the Bible Belt, when the lights dimmed you could still hold hands.
Chapter Three
THE FIRST GROUP out was the two-year-old class. Five little girls in pink tights with sparkly itty-bitty tutus walked onstage holding hands in a line. The audience did a group "Awww." They were almost illegally cute. The dance teacher was at the front of the stage, visible to the audience and the wide-eyed little girls.
The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker filled the air. It was one of the few classical pieces I knew well enough to name. The teacher began to move her arms. Most of the tiny girls followed her, but one of them just stared off at the audience with huge, fear-filled eyes. Were the toddlers good? No. But at that age it's not about being a prodigy, it's about showing up and being too cute for words. I wasn't much for babies, older was definitely better, but even I couldn't deny they were nearly painfully adorable.
Micah began to rub his thumb over my hand. Jean-Claude was still against my other hand. The tots trooped off, holding hands again, to rousing applause, and then it was Matthew's turn. I heard Monica tell J.J., "Usually they have to combine the two- and three-year-olds, but they had enough this year to have two classes." Interesting, but my hearing it meant Monica was talking too loud. She had a certain desire to be noticed.
The little girls I'd seen earlier in their clown tutus came trooping out, with Matthew in the middle in his boy costume. They were holding hands just like the last group, and the dance instructor was at the bottom of the stage visible to the children and the audience. I wondered how old you'd have to be for the teacher to hide.
The music was still from the Nutcracker, but it was one of the songs for the dolls that danced in the first act. I couldn't remember which dance this was, just vaguely where it came from in the ballet. Little arms went up in near unison, and then they danced. Not all the girls danced, they moved, but Matthew and two of the little girls danced. It wasn't smooth, or perfect, but it was real. They did what the teacher did with smiling faces, but as they continued Matthew lost his smile, his concentration visible on his small face. I watched him do some of the moves I'd seen him practice at our house, with Nathaniel and Jason working on his moves with him.
I leaned into Micah and whispered, "Is it stupid to say he's good?"
Jean-Claude leaned into us and whispered, "Non, ma petite, he has a certain flair, does Matthew."
The music stopped, and the children took hands and bowed. The applause was a little more heartfelt this time, or so it seemed to me. It's not every day you see someone that young display the beginnings of true talent. When they were offstage Asher leaned over all of us to speak to Monica. "He is good, your boy."
She beamed at him, and she had every right to be proud. Micah congratulated her, too. J.J. said, "For three he's amazing."
I spoke in her and Monica's direction. "I hope that Jason and Nathaniel got to see it; I've been watching them work with him."
"Matthew has really enjoyed his time with his uncles," Monica said.
I pulled back a little, because I didn't like the whole Uncle Nathaniel and Uncle Jason thing, and I had put a stop to Aunt Anita. Matthew had given us his own version of nicknames; Natty, Jason-Jason, and 'Nita for me. Jean-Claude was more Gene-Clod. Asher was the closest to getting his whole name. We'd been seeing a lot of Matthew lately.
The music came back up and the next group of little girls, slightly older, came out. And there was a lot of that in the next hour and change. Older girls, sometimes the same girls, because we got to see them do ballet, jazz, and modern, even a couple of tap dances. I liked dance, and it was no reflection on the kids, but my will to live began to seep away by about the fifth group of sequined children.
I had been warned that the dance school didn't allow anyone to grab their kids and leave until every last student had had their chance onstage. I just hadn't understood what that meant.
In between acts I leaned over J.J. to Monica and asked, "How long is the show?"
"Last year it was four hours," she said.
I gave her wide, horror-filled eyes. She giggled. I sat back in my seat and exchanged a look with Micah. He said, "Nathaniel and Jason will be up soon."
Wicked leaned back from the seat in front of us and whispered, "Did you say four hours?"
I nodded. He looked pained as he turned back to give his attention to the stage, though I knew as security he was actually aware of a lot more than the performance. He'd be aware of things that I would miss, and so would Truth behind us.
Jean-Claude raised my hand up and laid a kiss on the back of it. He was smiling at me in that trying-not-to-laugh way. I glared at him and then caught Asher giving me the same look. I rolled my eyes at both of them and settled back in my seat.
I fell into a sort of daze, and then Micah raised the open program in his other hand in front of my face. I had to blink to read it. Jason Schuyler was listed as accompanying senior student Alicia Snyder. He'd said that the men were really just mobile props so the senior girls could have a wider choice of dances for their last hurrah before going off to college. "We're just there to make the girls look good, and tote and fetch them."
When I'd asked, "Then why do it?" he'd looked at me as if I'd said something silly. Jason had been in dance and theater all the way into college; apparently it was just some sort of dance thing that I wasn't going to understand, but it made sense to him and to the other men that he'd talked into doing it. It had been Jean-Claude and Jason's idea to make the exotic dancers at Guilty Pleasures, and the less exotic dancers at Danse Macabre, two of Jean-Claude's clubs, learn to really dance. Jason and Nathaniel had been working with them and the teachers at the school all summer. It was the most men that the senior girls had ever had access to for partners, and most of them had taken our men up on the offer.
The ballerina with Jason was actually shorter than he was, and since he was only an inch taller than me, she was tiny in her black proverbial ballerina outfit with white tights and a flash of sparkle in her bound hair. He'd tied his own longish blond hair back in a tight, smooth ponytail so that it gave the illusion of being short. He wore an outfit that matched hers and I realized I'd never seen Jason in black before. They both looked elegant. Jason was usually smiling, joking, and one of my best friends. He was a lover as well. He was cute and even handsome, but I'd never realized that he could be elegant and beautiful. The music began and I saw instantly why she'd wanted him to partner her. I knew Jason moved well, even danced well, and I'd seen some of the practices, but I hadn't seen much of him with the girl. I'd never seen him move like this in dance.
He had the grace both of his years of dance training and of being a werewolf. All the wereanimals moved well, as if it came with the disease in their veins. He didn't have a lot to do but hold her en pointe and help her twirl and do some lifts, and finally lift her completely over his head one-handed and carry her rainbowed body across the stage to bring her in a heart-stopping drop to be caught an inch above the floor with her body still graceful and taut in his arms.