Laurell Hamilton - Bullet

He grinned at me. “I like making new friends.”

I frowned at him.

He kissed me, soft and sudden. I couldn’t frown while he kissed me; I couldn’t do anything but kiss him back. When he drew back I was left staring up into those eyes. “You really are a little excited to meet them, aren’t you?”

He put his forehead against mine and whispered, “I like watching you with other people, and you know that.”

“Does Micah like watching?” I asked.

“He likes watching us together, and he likes Jean-Claude. He likes Jason.”

I closed my eyes and leaned in against him. “I just want to sleep between the two of you for like a couple of days.”

“We get through this, and we will.”

I moved back enough so I could see his face. “Promise,” I asked.

His face went very serious and he said, “Promise.”

I nodded and stepped away. I stood up straight, because I’d been huddling in on myself. I could do this. We could do this. And then when this was over we’d find a bed for just the three of us and sleep until I wasn’t tired anymore. It felt like I’d need about a hundred years to catch up, but I’d settle for eight uninterrupted hours. Sometimes you take what you can get.

THE DRAPES HAD been stripped around the living room so that the carpeted area looked like an island in the middle of the bare rock walls and the uncarpeted floor that led farther into the underground. The light and warmth of the area looked like a stage set surrounded by all that naked rock.

I must have hesitated, because Nathaniel’s hand tightened on mine and he kept us moving forward. I glanced at him and found a welcoming smile just appearing on his face, but then his day job as a stripper had taught him how to smile and be charming when he really didn’t feel like it. None of my jobs taught me how to be charming, strangely.

Nicky and Dino were at our backs. Stephen and Gregory had stayed back in the kitchen, but with both Nicky’s and Dino’s shoulders behind us there really wasn’t room for anyone else.

Micah came to us. It almost looked odd to see him in nice black jeans and a T-shirt. He wore suits for work and relaxed in faded jeans and colorful T-shirts. He really wasn’t that fond of black outside his suits. The black shirt tucked into the black jeans with a black belt and silver buckle made his waist look tiny. In fact the whole outfit emphasized how almost delicate he was, especially for a man. The saving grace was the way the tight T-shirt showed off the muscled upper body, but it looked all done in miniature, especially after just exercising with so many of the guards. Most of the time I didn’t think of Micah as that small, because we were the same size, but as he walked toward us, smiling, hand out, his long, dark brown hair curling free past his shoulders, framing that triangular face, with those startling eyes, he was simply beautiful in a very girl way. I understood why he wore suits most of the time; it helped make him look like a grown-up. The same for keeping his hair back from his face. Why had he picked now to dress so unlike himself ? It being Micah, I knew he’d have a reason.

He kissed me, light but good. It made me smile. He smiled back, and with his hand still on my arm he leaned up and kissed Nathaniel. He stiffened for a second, startled I think, because other than the kiss at the dance recital they didn’t kiss in public. But Nathaniel recovered almost instantly and kissed him back, even putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder. Maybe Micah had just gotten more comfortable with it, but I was betting that like the clothes he had done it on purpose. I knew that later I’d ask and he’d explain, but not now, not in front of company. Since they were most likely the very people he was doing it all for.

He took Nathaniel’s hand to lead us forward, because to take mine he’d have had to take my gun hand. I’d taught them both that I didn’t like that. Now I would have preferred his hand in mine rather than the gun hand free, because what was waiting for us wasn’t a matter of guns.

Micah led us toward the carpeted area, but I couldn’t resist looking toward the corner where Haven had died. I noticed Nathaniel looking at the floor where he and Noel had lain. As far as I could tell the blood was cleaned up, though as we passed the place where Noel had bled out I caught the sharp scent of bleach. I knew if I could smell it that all the wereanimals would smell it more. Our guests would know there was blood underneath all that bleach, but there was nothing we could do about it.

Jake stood on the far side of the room with Claudia beside him. He’d already adopted the black T-shirt that was the unofficial uniform for our guards. Claudia looked like her normal self, with her muscles smooth and her hair in a tight braid. If I hadn’t seen her shot I wouldn’t have known that she’d even been hurt. The fact that she’d healed this completely this fast said just how powerful a wererat she was. She gave a small nod at me, and I gave one back.

Wicked and Truth were near the fireplace because the loveseat had been put close to it at an angle, and that’s where Jean-Claude was sitting. Unlike Micah, he’d gone for his normal look: tight pants and tall black boots, both made of intricately sewn leather, so that his lower body looked like it was bound in thin leather strips, and where the boots left off and the pants began was hard to see. His white shirt had a lacy front tucked into all that leather. His jacket was black and velvet, cut short enough that it hit barely at his waist. He’d pinned the lace in place with the antique cameo pin that I’d gotten him for one of the first Christmases we exchanged gifts. Asher was beside him on the loveseat with his unbound golden hair spilled along one side of his face so it hid the scars. Asher had dressed to match Jean-Claude, so he was also in leather pants and boots, but his were smooth leather, so smooth that it looked painted on. His white shirt was a tuxedo shirt with the collar unfastened at the neck, but beyond that it fit his upper body tight. To my eyes you could see the difference in skin from one side of his chest to the other as he rose from the loveseat and glided toward us, smiling. But I knew that smile; it wasn’t a real one. It was a smile that could either be happy or turn to harsh cruelty. There was something about our guests that Asher didn’t like.

The big cinnamon-brown wolf trotted at Asher’s side. I had a moment of not knowing how to greet Richard in wolf form. Asher took my free hand, my gun hand, and raised it for a kiss, but as he rose from it he let me see his eyes. They were unhappy. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but since Asher and I weren’t able to talk mind-to-mind I’d have to wait for privacy.

The big wolf bumped my leg with his head. I wasn’t ready for it, and it staggered me a little. I reached both hands down to pet him. He stared up at me with wolf eyes, but the look in them was human. He wasn’t happy, either. What the hell could have put Asher and Richard on the same side of unhappy? Other than both being pissy, they didn’t have a lot of the same issue buttons.

I had to fight the urge to ask him, What’s wrong, boy? like he was Lassie or something. Asher offered me his arm and I slid my hand through his; if I had to go for a gun I was screwed, but with Wicked, Truth, and Claudia in the room, if my gun was the one that saved us, then things would have gone too wrong for one more gun to make a difference. The wolf walked ahead of us and lay down beside the loveseat at Jean-Claude’s side like a good dog.

There were two men I didn’t know in the overstuffed chairs, which had been moved to the side of the room where the loveseat normally sat. That put Jake and Claudia at their backs. They had to be the gold tigers.