I stepped between them, which if I'd meant to fight either of them would have been stupid, but I wasn't planning on slugging it out with either of them. I didn't so much drop my metaphysical shields as just find the anger that always seemed to be bubbling right below the surface of me. Feeding on sex was Jean-Claude's vampire line, the line that descended from Belle Morte, Beautiful Death, but anger, that was mine. The anger came to me as if it were a warm shower to touch and caress my skin. It felt so good to feed on it, to draw in all that rage. I had a moment of feeling that I had a choice whether to swallow it, or use it to be angry myself. That was new; usually it was just food. I "ate" the anger, letting it soak into me.
Alex stared up at me, still on the floor, on his knees, one arm braced. "What just happened?" he asked. His energy had completely changed; he felt normal, felt like himself.
"I ate your anger. Why are you so pissed?"
"I have no idea."
Movement made me look back at Ethan. He shuddered with the pipe halfway out of his side. That one movement let me know how hurt he was. Yes, he'd heal if it wasn't silver, but that didn't stop having a pipe shoved through your side from hurting like hell. I couldn't imagine trying to drag my body down it. I was thinking about it too hard, and my stomach clenched with nausea.
"What do you mean you have no idea, Alex?" I asked.
"I don't know," he said. He looked up at me, and then called out, "George, come help us." I turned and found another guard in the white T-shirt and khaki pants that passed as their uniform. His short, thick hair was the traditional deep, almost-black red, his eyes like orange and yellow pinwheels of fire. There was a slight gold tinge that just added to the exotic effect that some of the reds had.
"My prince," he said, and literally dropped to one knee, his fist coming back to touch his chest. I raised an eyebrow at that, because I'd never seen anything that formal at any of the other clans. It was like medieval formal.
"Help Ethan."
"As my prince wills," George said, and stood.
I heard a gasp of pain behind me, and the sound of a body falling. I turned to find Ethan on the floor, on his knees, his hands catching him from falling. His skin was almost gray and beaded with sweat from the pain and shock. But even as I watched, the blood flow was lessening. His body was beginning to heal itself. A wave of relief that I hadn't known I needed swept through me. It wasn't that Ethan meant that much to me yet, but getting him killed for plain stupid jealousy would have just been so unfair.
George, the guard, was only partway to Ethan when the anger came back. One minute Alex was standing, wiping the blood off his face, his usual calm self, and the next he was snarling and hit the wounded man twice before Ethan could defend himself. They came up off the floor in a snarling, pounding mass.
I tried to eat the rage again, but it was as if I slid off it. I couldn't reach the anger. Something was blocking me. The men began to beat on each other in a snarling, pounding mass.
I turned to the guard. "Stop them."
"If my prince wishes to discipline him, it is not my place to interfere."