Лорел Гамильтон - Cerulean Sins

I tried pushing this wonderful feeling farther away, but it was like trying to fight a warm, comforting mist. You could strike out, but there was nothing solid to hit. The mist just moved and reformed, and stayed.

"Stop," I said, the one word was firm enough, though I didn't feel very firm inside.

"What?" he asked, as he moved me enough forward so that he could unfasten the tops of his jeans.

"This should bother me, you trying to get naked, while I'm naked, in a tub, that should bother me, right?"

"But it doesn't, does it," he said. He was unbuttoning his button fly jeans with one hand. That took talent.

"No, it doesn't," I said, frowning again, "why doesn't it bother me?"

"You really don't know, do you?" he asked.

"No," I said, not even sure what I was saying no to.

He'd gotten his jeans unbuttoned. "I can either lay you down on the very cold tile, or I can throw you over my shoulder for a few seconds while I take the pants off, lady's choice."

The decision seemed too hard for me. "I don't know."

He didn't ask a second time, just tossed me, as gently as he could over his shoulder, sort of half a fireman's carry. Being upside down made the world spin again, and I wondered if I was going to be sick all over his back. He balanced me there while he wormed out of his jeans.

I was now staring down his bare back as the jeans slid down the top of his butt. The nausea had passed, and I giggled—I never giggle—"Nice ass."

He choked, or laughed. "I never knew you noticed."

"Underwear," I said.

"What?"

"You had underwear, I caught a glimpse of it." I had this horrible urge to run my hands over his butt, just because it was there, and I could. It was like I was drunk or high.

"Yeah, I had underwear on, what about it?"

"Can you put it back on?"

"You don't really care if I have underwear on, or not, do you?" and there was something in his voice that was almost teasing.

"Nope." I shook my head, which made the world spin again. "Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick."

"Stop moving, it'll pass. You wouldn't be sick at all if you hadn't fought to get out from between the two of them. Too much physical exertion right afterwards will make you sick as a dog. Sink into the feeling, just ride it, and it feels wonderful."

I felt a little silly talking to his ass, but it didn't seem nearly as silly as it should have. "What feels wonderful?"

"Guess," he said.

That made me frown. "Don't want to guess." God, what was wrong with me? "Tell me."

"Let's get you in the tub, a bath will help clear your head."

He moved me back to his arms, and stepped over the edge of the tub. "You're naked," I said.

"So are you," he said.

That had a certain logic to it that I couldn't quite argue with, though I felt I should have argued with it. "Weren't you going to put something back on?"

"The underwear is silk, I'm not going to ruin it by wearing it in the tub, because you think I should put it on. Besides, you don't really care if I'm naked or not. Remember?"

A headache was beginning just behind one eye. "No," I said, "but I should care, shouldn't I? I mean…"

Jason lowered us both into the water. It felt wonderful, so warm, so smooth, so good against my skin. Jason moved me gently in the water until I was sitting in front of him, cradled against his body.

The water was so warm, so warm, and I was so tired. It would feel so good to just sleep.

Jason's arm on my waist jerked me back. "Anita, you can't sleep in the bathtub, you'll drown."

"You won't let me drown," I said, and my voice was thick with warmth and sleep.

"No, I won't let you drown," he said.

I frowned, as I half-floated in the water. "What is wrong with me, Jason? I feel drunk."

"You have been well and truly rolled by a vampire, Anita."

"Jean-Claude can't, his own marks protect me," my voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.

"I never said it was Jean-Claude."

"Asher," I whispered the name.

"I've shared blood with him before, and it is the most amazing thing. Jean-Claude says he always holds back, because he knows I'm not his pomme de sang, I'm just a loaner."

"Loaner," I said.

"I don't think Asher held back with you tonight."

"The ardeur, we… were doing… the ardeur. " Each word was thick with effort.

"The ardeur could have made him careless," Jason said. His hands were very solid on me, cradling me in the water more than against his body.

"Careless?" I said.

"Go ahead and pass out, Anita. When you wake up, we'll talk."

"'bout what?"

"Things," he said, and his voice was sinking away into the candlelit dark. I didn't remember him lighting the candles that Jean-Claude usually kept around the tub.

I started to ask, what things? but the words never made it out loud. I fell into a warm, soft darkness, where there was no fear, no pain. So warm, so safe, so loved.

I woke to the phone ringing. I huddled in the sheets, trying not to hear it. God, I was tired. The bed moved, someone else rumbling for it. It wasn't until Jason's voice said, "Hello," softly, as if he were afraid of waking me, that I woke completely. Why was Jason in my bedroom?

That question was answered as soon as I opened my eyes. I wasn't in my bedroom, in fact, I didn't know where the hell I was. The bed was a king-size, but it was only pillows and a bed, no headboard, no footboard, only a bed, very modern, very normal. The only light was from a small door directly across from the foot of the bed, I could catch a glimpse of a bathtub, or shower. I followed the dim light out and found bare stone walls and knew I was still inside the Circus of the Damned, somewhere.

"She's sick," Jason said. He was quiet for a second. "She's asleep. I'd rather not wake her."

I tried to remember why I was here and came up with nothing, just a blank. I started to roll over, I think to ask who it was, when I realized I was naked. I pulled the sheets up over my breasts and turned over to see Jason.

He was laying on his side, his back to me, the sheet pulled down enough that I could see the top of his buttocks. What the fuck was I doing naked in a bed with Jason? Where was Jean-Claude? Okay, probably in his coffin, or his bed. I never shared the bed when he was stone cold. But why hadn't I gone home?

"I don't think she's going to be well enough to come out today."

I tried to sit up and found that the world wasn't quite steady. Maybe sitting up wasn't such a good idea. I stayed on my back, sheet clutched to my chest, and had to try twice to say, "I'm awake." My mouth was incredibly dry.

Jason turned towards me. The movement pooled the sheet into his lap and left the backside of his body bare. He covered the receiver with his hand. "How do you feel?"

"How did I get here? Why am I here?" I asked in a voice so hoarse it barely sounded like me.

"Do you remember anything?"

I frowned, and that hurt. My throat hurt. I raised a hand and found a large bandage on the right side of my neck. There was a vampire bite under the bandages, I knew that, and with that knowledge, I remembered.

I remembered everything, and it wasn't just my mind that remembered it. My body convulsed against the bed, my spine bowing, hands clawing at the sheets, a moan tore from my throat, before my body stole all the breath from me, and I bucked against the bed, caught in a sensory memory. It wasn't as good as the original, but damn it was close.

I dug my fists into the sheets, balling the cloth up, trying to find something to hold on to. Jason was suddenly beside me, he grabbed my upper arms, tried to hold me still. "Anita, what's wrong?"

My hands came up, automatically, grabbing his forearms, holding on. My eyes rolled back into my head, my body convulsed, and my hands tore down his forearms. I felt my nails sink into his flesh, felt his skin give under me.