Danse Macabre

7

SHE KISSED ME, and this time I didn't fight her. I let my body melt into hers, let her feed at my mouth. There is a moment in a kiss, especially an open-mouth kiss, where the caress of lips and tongue spills over some line, and beyond that line, you kiss back. I kissed her, kissed her as she was meant to be kissed, full and complete, tasting her.

I drew back enough to whisper, "You taste salty."

She breathed her answer in my mouth, as she drew me back into the kiss, "You taste of blood." Her breath filled my mouth, caressed the back of my throat. Her breath tasted fresh and clean like the wind off the ocean.

Her lips tasted like she had just that second taken a sip of the ocean. I licked her lip, and found that there was a whitish film on the fullness of her mouth. It wasn't illusion. It was real.

I swallowed the salty taste of her lips, staring up at her, feeling the sur­prise on my face. "How ..." But I never finished the question, because I didn't just swallow the taste of salt, I swallowed her power.

I heard the ocean whispering against the shore. I could hear it like music. I looked around the room. I wanted to ask someone else if they could hear it. I meant to look for Micah, or Nathaniel, but that wasn't who caught my gaze. Thomas was staring at me with wide eager eyes. His brother had col­lapsed to the love seat, and was covering his ears with his hands, rocking back and forth. Cristos was fighting it, whatever it was, but Thomas wasn't. Sampson had a death grip on the love seat, but his eyes had drowned to black so that he looked blind. The other man and woman they'd brought with them turned black eyes to me. The woman was hugging herself, as if cold, or afraid. The man had a death grip on his own wrist, the typical jock pose turned into something harsh and struggling, as if, if he let go of his wrist, he would do something unfortunate. Last I found Samuel's eyes. His eyes had bled to vampire fire, the glowing brown with flecks of green flame in their depths. They all could hear it, that whispering, seductive sound. The ocean was calling, and I didn't know how to answer.

I was still staring into Samuel's eyes when I felt a hand glide down my shoulder. I turned, and found Thomas standing next to us. Thea began to pull out of my arms, giving me to Thomas's arms as she moved, so that it was as if the embrace never stopped, only the arms holding me had changed.

There was movement around us. I saw Micah's face, his lips moving, but I couldn't hear him. All I could hear was the sigh and echo of the sea. Thomas touched my face, turned me back to look at him. He spoke, and his words held the growling echo of surf over rocks. "You hear my voice though, don't you?"

I nodded, my face pressed against his hand. His hand was large enough to cup the entire side of my face. He leaned down, and I went up on tiptoe to help him finish the kiss. I wasn't thinking that he was seventeen. I wasn't thinking we had an audience that included his parents. I wasn't thinking that men I loved were watching. I saw nothing but his face, felt nothing but the strength of his hands on my face, his arm trailing down my back, his hand gliding down my body. The inside of my head was peaceful, full of a soft, rushing sound, like water as it spills along some peaceful shore. I wasn't the one who fought free of the mind games, it was Thomas who spoiled it. His hand slid down, down, and found the gun at the small of my back. It made him hesitate. Made him stumble as if his magic had legs to be tripped by a misplaced stone.

I pulled back from him, saw the uncertainty on his face. He was still hand­some, and the compulsion to touch him was still there whispering through my head, but his eyes were wide, his face uncertain. He looked fresh and new and untried, like someone who had never hugged someone and found her wearing a gun.

The sound of the surf pulled away, and I could hear the murmuring in the room. People wondering what to do, whether they should interfere.

"That's a gun," he said, in a voice as uncertain as his face.

I nodded. I had gone back to being flat-footed on my heels, no more tip­toe, no more helping him seduce me with his mother's magic, or his own.

He'd actually missed the big knife down my spine, because he hadn't come to the midline of my body until low on my back. But it was a big weapon to miss. Baby, he was a baby. And I'd have said that if he'd been twenty-seven instead of seventeen. Baby not in years, but in my world. You don't miss a knife as long as a forearm, not and live, not for long. Not in my world.

I gazed up into his face. The black was begi

but where he lived was a gentler, kinder place than my life. I would leave him to that gentleness.

I drew out of his arms, completely. "Go back and sit down, Thomas."

He hesitated and looked at his mother. She was watching me, not him. Watching me with those black eyes. There was a considering look on her face, as if she wasn't sure what she thought of the show.

"Do as Anita says, Thomas," she said, at last.

He went back to the love seat, to sit beside his brother. It left Thea and me staring at each other.

"He hesitated only for a moment," she said, "yet, it was enough."

"It's not his power," I said, "not yet. It's yours. You loaned him enough power to roll me."

She made a gesture that was almost a shrug, but her hands went out in a wide gesture. I think it meant, Perhaps, or, You caught me. I wasn't sure which, and wasn't sure I cared.

"You have greeted Thomas, but we have two other sons," she said.

Micah came up beside me. He took my hand. "In fairness to our other guests, I think we need to greet more of Auggie's people."

"They are only his henchmen, and his mistress. We have brought you our flesh and blood, the fruit of our lives."

Micah nodded, still smiling. "We appreciate that, but—"

I cut him off, and said, "Enough, Micah, thanks for trying to be all polite and hosty, but I've had enough of games for the night."

He squeezed my hand, as if saying, Be nice.

I squeezed back, but I was done being nice. I wouldn't be rude, but... "I'm going to greet Auggie and his people now, because they didn't try to roll me. Until Jean-Claude joins us, you and your sons are just going to have to wait to be greeted."

"So Augustine's whore is higher in rank than my sons?" Thea sounded genuinely angry.

There was a sound of outrage from the other side of the room—a woman's voice protesting and Auggie trying to calm her. I glanced to find him talking to a statuesque brunette in a very tiny dress. She was mad, and I didn't blame her.

I turned back to Samuel. "You talk to her, Samuel. You explain that your wife damn near abused our hospitality tonight."

"If we have truly abused your hospitality, then Jean-Claude could revoke our safe conduct," he said, voice deep, but strangely soft.

"I understand that."

"Did we frighten you that badly?" he asked.

"I agreed to Thea tasting my power, not Thomas. It wasn't what we ne­gotiated for. I was told you were an honorable man; bait and switch isn't very honorable."

"Could you hear anything we said while Thomas touched you?" Micah asked.

I glanced at him, and shook my head. "I could hear his voice and the sound of the sea, that was it."

"I pointed out to Samuel that you hadn't bargained for Thomas."

"What did he say?"

"He said that for a siren to truly taste your power it needed to have a sex­ual flavor to it, and since you were not a lover of women, one of the boys would be helpful."

I shook my head. "I'm going to greet Auggie and his people now. Whether I let any of your other children touch me, or not, is up for a very serious debate." I put my gaze on Thea. "I don't like to be forced, or played, Thea. If you really want your sons to have a chance at my bed, or body, or power, you need to remember that."