"Blood," I said.
"And sex?" he asked.
"Which would you rather have, right this minute?" I stared at him, willing the truth in his face.
He gave a shaky laugh. "Blood."
I smiled, and pulled my wrist away. "Remember, it was your choice."
A look passed over his face that was a mixture of surprise and irony. "Touche, ma petite, but I am beginning to have hopes that this will not be the last time I am given the choice." There was a heat to his voice, his eyes, just standing this close to his body, that made me shiver.
I glanced back at Richard. He was watching us. I expected to see jealousy or anger, but all I could read in his eyes was need. Lust. I was pretty sure that Richard's choice right this minute would be sex, but the thought of a little blood thrown in didn't seem to worry him. In fact, it seemed to excite him. I was beginning to wonder if the werewolf and vampire shared similar tastes in foreplay. The thought should have scared me, but it didn't. That was a very, very bad sign.
30
The last time I'd been in the coffin room under Circus of the Damned, I'd come to slay the current Master of the City. I'd come to slay every vampire in the place. My, how things had changed.
Track lighting in solid white fixtures clung to the walls, casting soft halos of light on each of seven coffins. Three of the coffins were empty, their lids propped open. All of the coffins were modern, new, roomy. They were all a rich varnished oak, stained nearly black. Silver handles graced the wood. The satin linings of the open coffins were different colors; white, blue, red. The coffin with the red interior held a sword in a specially made side sheath: a freaking two-handed sword as long as I was tall. A pair of the ugliest fuzzy dice I'd ever seen were suspended from the white satin coffin. It had to be Willie's. The blue satin held a small extra pillow. Standing over the coffin, the smell of herbs rose musty, vaguely sweet. I touched the small pillow and found it filled with dried herbs. "Herbs for sweet dreams," I said to no one in particular.
"Is there some purpose to you handling their personal belongings, ma petite?"
I looked at him. "What keepsakes do you have in your coffin?"
He just smiled.
"Why all the same coffins?"
"If you came in here to kill us, where would you start?"
I looked around at the identical coffins. "I don't know. If someone comes in, they can't tell who's the oldest or who's the Master of the City. It covers your ass but endangers the rest."
"If someone comes to kill us, ma petite, it is to everyone's benefit if the oldest are not killed first. There is always a chance that one of the older ones could awaken in time to save the rest."
I nodded. "Why the extra-wide, extra-high interiors?"
"Would you want to spend eternity on your back, ma petite?" He smiled and came to stand beside me, leaning his butt against the open coffin, arms crossed over his chest. "There are so many other more comfortable positions."
I felt heat rise up my face.
Richard joined us. "Are you two going to exchange witty repartee or are we going to do this?" He leaned on the closed end of the coffin, forearms resting on it. There was a bloody scratch on his right upper arm. He seemed at home. Jason, still furry and big enough to ride, padded over the stone floor, nails clicking. The wolf's head was high enough that it licked Richard's bloody arm while still on all fours. There were moments when I felt Richard was too normal to fit into my life. This wasn't one of them.
"Yeah, we're going to do it," I said.
Richard stood, running his fingers through his thick hair, getting it out of his face, and showing his chest off to good advantage. For the first time, I wondered if he'd done it on purpose. I searched his face for that edge of teasing that Jean-Claude had, that knowledge that even that simple movement touched me. There was nothing. Richard's face was guileless, handsome, empty of ulterior motives.
I exchanged glances with Jean-Claude. He shrugged. "If you do not understand him, do not look to me. I am not in love with him."
Richard looked puzzled. "Did I miss something?" He stroked under the wolf's throat, pressing the head against his chest. The wolf made a high whimpering sound of pleasure. Glad to be back in the pack leader's good graces, I guess.
I shook my head. "Not really."
"Why are we here?" Stephen asked. He was as close to the door as he could get and not be outside the room. His shoulders were hunched. He was scared, but of what?
Cassandra stood near Stephen, inside the room, closer to us. Her face was bland, unreadable except for a certain wariness around the eyes. They both wore jeans with oversized shirts. Stephen's was a man's pale blue dress shirt. Cassandra had an oversized T-shirt a dull pine green with a wolf's head done large with huge, yellow eyes.
"What's wrong, Stephen?" Richard asked.
Stephen blinked and shook his head.