The Harlequin ab-15 Read online

"Well, at least you admit it."

  The light changed, and I eased forward. We'd had two inches of snow, and everyone here forgot how to drive in it. "I don't like to admit when I'm uncomfortable, you know that."

  "Tell me what Jean-Claude said."

  I told him.

  "So they may be here for Malcolm and his church."

  "Maybe."

  "I'm surprised you didn't demand more answers on the phone."

  "I didn't know what the happy couple wanted. Jean-Claude said we're not in danger, so I hung up."

  "It's not my fault that they recognized us."

  "You. They recognized you."

  "Fine, they recognized me." He was back to being mad again.

  "I'm sorry, Nathaniel, I'm really sorry. That wasn't fair."

  "No, you're right. If we hadn't been out together they probably wouldn't have spotted you."

  "I am not embarrassed to be seen with you in public."

  "You hate it when fans recognize me."

  "I thought I was pretty cool when that woman passed you her phone number at dinner, when you were out with Micah and me."

  "She waited until you went to the bathroom."

  "And that's supposed to make me feel better?" I turned onto 44 and headed toward the city.

  "She didn't want to intrude on our date."

  "She thought you and Micah were escorts, and that I was paying you for the evening."

  "The last time she saw me that's what I was doing for a living, Anita."

  "I know, I know. She passed you her number because she wanted to see you again, and the old number wasn't working. You're right, she was polite about it."

  "I told her I was on a date-date, and she was embarrassed."

  I still remembered the woman. She'd been slender and elegant and old enough to be Nathaniel's mother. Thanks to Jean-Claude I knew clothes, and she'd been wearing expensive ones. The jewelry had been understated, but very nice. She was one of those women who headed charity balls and sat on committees for the art museum, and she'd been hiring male prostitutes young enough to be her son.

  "I think what bothered me about her was that she didn't look like someone who would…"

  "Hire an escort," he finished for me.

  "Yeah."

  "I had a lot of different kinds of customers, Anita."

  "I figured that."

  "Did you, or did you try never to think about it?"

  "Okay, the latter."

  "I can't change my past, Anita."

  "I didn't ask you to."

  "But you want me to quit stripping."

  "I never said that."

  "You're embarrassed by it, though."

  "For God's sake, Nathaniel, let it go. I'm embarrassed about being up on stage myself. I'm embarrassed that I fed on you in public." I gripped the steering wheel so tight it hurt. "When I fed the ardeur off you that night, I fed off the entire audience. I didn't mean to, but I fed on their lust. I felt how much they enjoyed the show, and I fed on it."

  "And you didn't have to feed again for twenty-four hours."

  "Jean-Claude took my ardeur and shared it around among you guys."

  "Yes, but he thinks that one of the reasons he was able to do that is that you fed off the crowd, and me. I loved that you marked me in front of the crowd. You know how much I loved it."

  "Are you saying that if I hadn't gone up on stage and accidentally fed from the crowd, the ardeur would have gotten out of control in the middle of that serial killer case?"

  "Maybe."

  I thought about that for a second as I drove. I thought about the ardeur going out of control in a van full of cops, Mobile Reserve cops, our answer to SWAT. I thought about the ardeur getting out of control while I was in a nest of vampires that had killed over ten people.

  "If that's true, then why didn't Jean-Claude try to get me down to the club again?"

  "He's offered."

  "I've refused."

  "Yeah," Nathaniel said.

  "Why tell me now?"

  "Because I'm mad at you," he said. He lowered his head on top of the box in his lap. "Because I'm mad that our date is ruined. I'm mad that some metaphysical crap is going to ruin our almost-anniversary."

  "I didn't plan this," I said.

  "No, but your life is always like this. Do you have any idea how hard it is to have a normal date with you?"

  "If you don't like it, you don't have to stay in it." The moment I said it, I wished I hadn't, but I didn't take it back.

  "Do you mean that?" he asked, in a low, careful voice.

  "No," I said, "no, I don't mean it. I'm just not used to you picking at me. That's usually Richard's job."

  "Don't compare me with him. I don't deserve that."

  "No, you don't." Richard Zeeman had once been my fiancé, but it hadn't lasted. I'd broken up with him when I saw him eat someone. He was the head of the local werewolf pack. He'd broken up with me when he couldn't handle that I was more comfortable with the monsters than he was. At the moment, we were lovers, and he was finally letting me feed the ardeur off him. I was his girlfriend in the preternatural community, lupa to his Ulfric, and he wasn't shopping to replace me in that part of his life. He was shopping for a completely human woman to replace me in the part of his life where he was a mild-mannered junior high science teacher. He wanted kids and a life that didn't include full moons and killer zombies. I didn't blame him completely. If I'd had an option for a normal life, I might have taken it. Of course, Richard really didn't have the option either. There was no cure for lycanthropy. But he was going to divide his life into pieces and try to keep all the pieces from finding out about the other parts. Sounded hard, hell, sounded like a recipe for disaster. But it wasn't my life, and so far he was just dating people. If he got serious about someone else, then we'd see how I felt about being the other woman.

  "You missed the turn, Anita," Nathaniel said.

  I cursed and braked too hard in the thin snow. I got the Jeep under control, then let us coast past our exit. I'd turn around. You could always turn around. "Sorry," I said.

  "Thinking about Richard?" He tried for neutral and failed.

  "Yeah."

  "My fault, I guess; I brought him up."

  "What's with the tone?" I asked. I turned into a section of town that was in the middle of being gentrified but hadn't quite made it yet. But we were headed back toward the riverfront.

  "If Richard were a stripper, would you be embarrassed by him, too?"

  "Drop this, Nathaniel, I mean it."

  "Or what?" There was that first prickling run of energy over my skin. He was angry enough that it was making his beast peek out.

  "You're picking on me tonight, Nathaniel. I don't need that."

  "I believe that you love me, Anita, but you love me by hiding from what I am. I need you to accept who I am."

  "I do."

  "You tell Arnet that I'm not your victim, but you won't tie me up during sex. You won't abuse me."

  "Don't start this again," I said.

  "Anita, the bondage is part of who I am. It makes me feel safe and good."

  This was one of the reasons I'd fought so long and hard to stay out of Nathaniel's love life. I did some stuff, nails, teeth, and I enjoyed it, but there were limits to my comfort level, and he'd been trying to push me past those limits in the last few weeks. I'd worried from the beginning that he wouldn't be happy with someone who was less into the bondage scene than he was, and that was exactly what was happening.

  "In some ways you make me feel better about myself than anyone ever has, Anita, but you also make me feel bad about myself. You make me feel like an evil freak, because of what I want."

  I found a parking spot just down the street from Guilty Pleasures's glowing neon sign. It was unusual to find parking this close to the club on a weekend. Parallel parking is not my best thing, so I concentrated on that, while part of me thought furiously about what to say to him.

  I finally got us parked and turned off the
car. The silence was thicker than I wanted it to be. I turned as far as the seat belt would allow and looked at him. He stared out the window away from me.

  "I don't want to make you feel bad about yourself, Nathaniel. I love you, damn it."

  He nodded, then turned and looked at me. The streetlight glittered on tears. "I'm terrified that I'm going to drive you away. My therapist says that I'm either a full partner in the relationship, or I'm not. Full partners ask for their needs to be met."

  Truthfully, I'd thought his therapist would be on my side, but BDSM was no longer considered an illness. It was just another alternative lifestyle. Damn it.

  "I want you to get what you need out of our… out of us."

  "I'm not asking for that much, Anita. Just tie me up while we have sex. Then do what we would have done anyway. Nothing else."

  I leaned over and brushed the tears from his cheeks. "It's not the tying up, Nathaniel. It's that once I say yes to that, what's next? And don't tell me there isn't a next."

  "Tie me up, make love to me, and we'll go from there."

  "That's what scares me," I said. "I say yes to this, and there'll be something else."

  "And what's wrong with something else, Anita? What scares you isn't my needs, but that you might like it."

  "That's not fair."

  "Maybe not, but it's true. You like being held down during sex. You like it rough."

  "Not all the time."

  "And I don't like being tied up all the time, but I like it some of the time. Why is that wrong?"

  "I'm not sure I can meet all your needs, okay? It was one of the things that worried me about us as a couple from the beginning."

  "Then are you okay with me finding someone else to meet those needs? Sex with you, bondage with someone else?" He said it fast, as if he were afraid he'd lose his nerve.

  I just stared at him. "Where the hell did this come from?"

  "I'm trying to find out what the limits are, Anita, that's all."

  "Do you want someone else?" I asked it, because I had to ask.

  "No, but you have other people in your bed, and I'm okay with that, but if you won't meet my needs, then…"

  "Are you saying that if I don't come across, you'll break up with me?"

  "No, no." He hid his face with his hands and made a frustrated noise. His energy level swirled back through the car, like hot water spilling across my skin. He swallowed the power back and looked at me. He looked pained. "I need this, Anita. I want to do it with you, but I need it with someone. It's part of who I am sexually; it just is."

  I tried to wrap my mind around letting Nathaniel play sex games with someone else, then come home to me. I couldn't do it. He was right; I was forcing him to share me with other men, but sharing him with another woman… "So what, you'd have tie-up games with someone else, then come home to me?"

  "I can find a master who doesn't do sexual contact. I can find someone who will just do the bondage."

  "But bondage is sex for you."

  He nodded. "Sometimes."

  "I can't do this tonight, Nathaniel."

  "I'm not asking you to; just think about it. Decide what you want me to do."

  "You're giving me an ultimatum; I don't deal well with ultimatums."

  "It's not an ultimatum, Anita, it's just true. I love you, and I'm happier with you than I've ever been with anyone for this long. Honestly, I didn't think we'd still be together this long. Seven months is the longest relationship I've ever had. When I thought it would be like all the rest—a few months, then over—it wasn't a big deal. I could behave myself for a few months, until you got tired of me."

  "I'm not tired of you."

  "I know that. In fact, I think you're going to keep me. I didn't expect that."

  "Keep you? You make yourself sound like a lost puppy that I picked up on the street. You don't 'keep' people, Nathaniel."

  "Fine, pick a different word, but we're living together and it's working, and it might last years. I can't go years without having this need met, Anita."

  "It might last years; you still talk about us like we won't last."

  "Years is lasting," he said, "and everyone gets tired of me, eventually."

  I didn't know what to say to that. "I'm not tired of you. Frustrated, puzzled as hell, but not tired."

  He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I know that, and if I didn't feel secure enough, I wouldn't make any demands. I'd just go on being unhappy about this, but if you love me, then I can ask for what I want."

  If you love me, he'd said. Jesus. "It must be true love, Nathaniel, because I'm not booting your ass to the curb for this."

  "For what, asking for my sexual needs to be met?"

  "Stop, just stop." I rested my forehead against the steering wheel and tried to think. "Can we please drop this for now, while I think about it?"

  "Sure." His voice sounded hurt.

  But his voice could sound hurt; I was out of my depth. "How long have you been saving this conversation up?" I asked, still resting against the wheel.

  "I kept waiting for there to be a quiet time, when you weren't ass-deep in alligators, but…"

  "But I'm always ass-deep in alligators."

  "Yeah," he said.

  I rose and nodded. That was fair. "I'll think about what you said, and that's all I've got tonight, okay?"

  "That's wonderful. I mean it. I was afraid…"

  I frowned at him. "You really thought I'd dump you because of this?"

  He shrugged and wouldn't look at me. "You don't like demands, Anita, not from any of the men in your life."

  I unbuckled my seat belt and slid over so I could turn him to look at me. "I can't promise that this won't eventually break me, but I can't imagine not waking up beside you most mornings. I can't imagine not having you puttering in our kitchen. Hell, it's more your kitchen than mine. I don't cook."

  He kissed me and drew back with that smile that made his face shine with happiness. I loved that smile. "Our kitchen. I've never had an 'our' anything before."

  I hugged him, partially because I wanted to, and partially to hide the expression on my face. On one hand, I loved him to pieces; on the other hand, I wished he had come with an instruction book. More than almost any other man in my life, he confused me. Richard hurt me more, but most of the time I understood why. I didn't like it, but I understood his motivation. Nathaniel was so far outside my comfort zone sometimes that I had no clue. That I understood vampires that had been alive over five hundred years better than I understood the man in my arms said something. I wasn't sure what it said, but something.

  "Let's go inside before Jean-Claude wonders what happened to us."

  He nodded, still looking happy. He got out on his side with the box in hand. I got out, hit the button to make the Jeep beep, and eased between the cars onto the sidewalk. He'd put his hat back on. Nathaniel in disguise. I put my left arm through his, and we walked over the melting snow toward the club. He was still all glowing from the "our" comment I'd made. Me, I wasn't glowing. I was worried. How far would I really go to keep him? Could I send him to a stranger for slap and tickle? Could I share him if I couldn't meet his needs? I didn't know. I really didn't know.

  Chapter Six

  I OPENED THAT metaphysical connection I had to Jean-Claude. Opened it and thought, Where are you? I felt him, or saw him, or some other word that they hadn't invented yet for seeing and feeling what someone else was doing in another room. He was on stage, using that voice of his to announce an act.

  I drew back enough to be solidly on Nathaniel's arm. Sometimes when I tried mind-to-mind stuff, I had trouble walking. "Jean-Claude is on stage, so we'll go in the front."

  "Whatever you say," he said.

  Once, in our relationship, he'd meant that. He'd been my little submissive wereleopard. I'd worked long and hard to make him more, to force him to be more demanding. Try to do a good deed and it bites you on the ass.

  The bouncer at the door was tall, blond, and way too che
erful for the job. Clay was one of Richard's werewolves, and when he wasn't bodyguarding someone, he worked security here. Clay's gift was avoiding fights. He was really good at calming things down. A much more useful ability for a bouncer than brute strength. Last week Clay had been helping guard my body. No pun intended. There'd been a metaphysical accident, and it had looked for a while like I'd be turning into a wereanimal for real, so I'd had different lycanthropes with me so that whatever I changed into, I was covered. But I had gotten some control over it all, and it looked like I still wasn't going to turn furry. Clay had been one of my watch-wolves. He was happy to be off the duty. I scared Clay. He was afraid the ardeur would make him my sexual slave. Okay, he didn't say that exactly. Maybe it was just me projecting my terrors on him. Maybe.

  His smile slipped a little when he saw me, his face going all serious. He gave me a hard look as he said, "How's it going, Anita?" He wasn't just being polite; as afraid as he was of some of my metaphysical abilities, he'd been convinced it wasn't a good idea to take all my guards off duty. He thought it was too soon.

  "I'm fine, Clay."

  He peered at me, leaning that six-foot frame down to my five foot three. He studied me as the crowd behind us grew to four. His gaze went to Nathaniel. "Has she really been fine?"

  "She's been fine."

  Clay stood up straight and motioned us through. He looked positively suspicious as he did it, though.

  "Honest," Nathaniel whispered as we went by, "not a twinge of anything furry."

  Clay nodded and turned to the next group. He was the gatekeeper tonight. We entered the permanent dimness of the club. The noise was soft, murmurous, like the sea. The music picked up, and the crowd noise both was drowned out and got louder. The murmur of it was drowned out with the rise of the music, but the screams and yells of encouragement were louder.

  The woman behind the coat area came out, smiling. "Crosses aren't allowed in the club."

  I'd forgotten I was wearing one outside my clothes; usually I just tucked it out of sight and got to avoid the holy-item check girl.

  I spilled the cross inside my sweater. "Sorry, forgot."

  "I'm sorry, but just hiding it isn't enough. I'll give you a claim check just like for a coat."