Asher's Kiss
 

A sanctioned execution has been decreed by order of the courts.  Now Anita struggles to save the
vampires she once hunted.  (Takes place after NIC)

Rated R

Disclaimer:  All characters, universe, situations belong to author Laurell K. Hamilton.  No profits will
be made from this fic.  It's just a twisted hobby of mine.
 
 

Asher's Kiss
BeElleGee BeElleGee@hotmail.com
For Regina and Kira, who help feed the ardeur

************************************************************
PART ONE~

Strange, the things you think of sometimes, or remember, for no apparent
reason.

I had just finished my last animating job of the night.  It had started to
drizzle during the ceremony, so the relatives of the dearly-departed I had
raised, their lawyer, and the insurance company's lawyer had left the
cemetery as soon as I'd finished, to reconvene in some plush, dry office
somewhere.  Probably to discuss new terms for a settlement in light of the
information they had received tonight.

I loaded my animating kit back in the trunk of my car, and was now busy
cleaning my hands with the pre-moistened aloe vera wipes I kept in my glove
box for just such occasions.

It was only misting now, but the night sky was black with rain clouds.  The
moon was new and it was dark enough in the remote cemetery that I was forced
to use the light from my open trunk to see what I was doing and make sure I
didn't leave any blood under my fingernails.

Suddenly, I remembered standing under a streetlight beside a bridge.  The
streetlight was an oil lamp--the kind some poor sot had to manually turn out
before the break of dawn each morning.  The broken cobblestones beneath my
feet were wet and shiny.  Puddles of standing water lay just off the
curbside.  It had rained earlier that night and was still misting enough to
keep everything glossy and slick.

Asher was standing under that light as well, a few paces away from me,
looking so ethereally beautiful, at first I thought he was a vision.  But
then he stretched out his hands and beckoned to me.  I threw myself so
mightily into his arms, I nearly sent us both crashing to the sidewalk.  His
body was a column of strength however; his sheltering embrace so soothing to
me, I remembered wishing I could crawl inside him and hide forever.  He held
me tightly as if he'd never let me go, and I leaned into him, letting his
arms support me because suddenly my legs could not.

I remembered how warm he was and how cold and wet I was.  As he murmured
tender words over and over again in my ear, his hand gently stroked the hair
from my eyes.  He kissed them with feather-like caresses, lifting away the
raindrops and tears that had wet them.  I wrapped my arms tighter around his
neck and pressed my face against his.  I wanted every part of my body
touching every part of his.  In that instant, he was everything I needed,
all I really wanted, but I couldn't seem to get close enough to him to stop
my trembling.

Asher pulled the cloak off his shoulders and threw it around me.  I sighed
and touched my lips to that luxuriantly soft skin just below his ear in
gratitude.  He moaned softly and I felt his arms flex around my back.  Still
whispering endearments in my ear, he rubbed his cheek against mine like an
affectionate cat, slowly and sensuously.  It stirred something deep and
fierce inside me.  I dragged my mouth over his skin and scraped my teeth
along his jawline.  Sliding my hand up the side of his face, I buried my
fingers deep in his hair, turning his head to face me.  I looked up into
eyes the color of melting ice and felt my breath catch in my throat.

"Mon chardonneret," I murmured, my lips brushing his as I spoke.

He tilted his head and pressed his lips against mine, cautiously at first,
knowing they were bruised; but I tightened my fist in his hair encouragingly
and boldly slid my mouth over his until I felt his hesitation dissipate.
His passion ignited like a fire flaring to life inside him, and then he
kissed me--really kissed me, like I had never been kissed before.  I had
been kissed with desire for my body countless times, but never with the
sweetness and intimacy of love that Asher conveyed to me that night.  It
made my knees weaken, my loins constrict, and my heart ache.

"Anita."

I suddenly realized two things.  One: that memory actually belonged to
Jean-Claude, and two: Asher actually was standing beside me, ten feet or so
away, smoking a cigarette, just outside the circle of light. He was the only
vampire I knew who smoked.  He took one last long drag from it before
flicking it into the shadows, then he locked his eyes on mine, and took a
tentative step forward. As usual, half his face was hidden in darkness.  His
long blonde hair billowing around his shoulders was sparkling from the night
mist, and looked like a golden fire whipping around his head in the breeze.

Asher took another step closer.  Despite the lack of light, I could still
see him clearly.  He was wearing a light gray Armani suit, white shirt and a
pastel blue tie which, considering his coloring, looked unbelievably dashing
on him.  I made a mental note to tell him so.  Later.

He was breathtaking to behold, but I was suddenly too angry to appreciate
it.  I was too busy soundly cursing myself for letting my defenses down.  I
took several cleansing breaths and then slammed the trunk down as hard as I
could.

"Damn it!  Don't sneak up on me like that!" I snapped, stomping around to
the side of the car.  I jerked open the door and grabbed my shoulder
holster.  "If I'd been armed, you'd be blown to bits by now."

The faintest smile played on his lips.  "I don't think so," he told me.  "I
was watching you from over there."  He made an abstract gesture into the
shadows with his hand.  "You were so submerged in thought, I could have
disemboweled you before you realized what had hit you."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't happen very often," I pointed out.

He walked up to me slowly.  "I know."  He paused, thinking, his startlingly
pale eyes narrowing.  "Which makes me wonder what could have possibly
occupied your mind so thoroughly that you did not sense my approach."

Now I slammed the car door.  "None of your business, Asher."  I was more
angry at myself than him, but his unexpected appearance made him a
convenient focal for my temper.  I tugged off the jacket of the suit I was
wearing and roughly strapped on the holster.

Beside me, Asher stood very still.  I don't even think he blinked.  Then he
took a long deep breath and released it hissingly through his teeth.  "I
think it is my business," he said at last.  Then: "What were you remembering
this time?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head.  "Can't you just let it go for once?"
Jean-Claude and I sometimes got our mental wiring crossed and shared each
other's memories as if they were our own.  Asher was aware of this, but he
didn't particularly like it.  Jean-Claude's memories of Asher were often
intimate and painfully personal, so I couldn't say I blamed him for being
put off by it, but I wasn't about to apologize for something I truly had no
control over.

The combative spark seemed to leave Asher as quickly as it came and he
turned around and leaned his hips against the back fender.  His long hair
spilled forward as he bowed his head as if to study the eroded patch of
ground in front of him.

"I was merely curious," he admitted quietly.  "Even if it was just a distant
memory, Anita, the fact that thoughts of me had consumed your attention so
completely, genuinely intrigues me."  He looked up then, his very long bangs
covering the ravaged side of his face.  "I keep hoping you'll want to start
your own stockpile of memories of me...of us, sometime.  Someday, maybe."

I stared up into his still lovely face and felt my anger fizzle away.  I
reached up and pushed the hair obscuring his scars back behind his ear and
leaned towards him.

"It was a kiss.  That's all.  I was remembering a kiss."

Asher lowered his head again until his forehead was touching mine.  "Just a
kiss?" he whispered.

"Well, a kiss that obviously left a lasting impression on Jean-Claude if he
still remembers it so vividly."  I ran my fingers absently through his hair.
  I still remembered it vividly.  I could still feel the weight of Asher's
full, petal-soft lips sliding over mine, his jaw moving against my chin, the
heat of his tongue stroking the inside of my mouth...or actually
Jean-Claude's.  I sighed somewhat wistfully.

Asher laughed lightly.  Just like Jean-Claude's, Asher's laugh could make my
skin tingle.  "Apparently it left a lasting impression on you as well, ma
cherie," he murmured.  He placed his elegant hands on either side of my neck
and tilted my head back.

"Yeah, it did," I confessed and realized how much I was hoping he'd kiss me
like that right now. I found myself staring up into his icy blue eyes and
tried to lean my body against his, but he held me away from him.

Asher often adopted a very sexually aggressive persona.  He flirted, hinted
at things suggestively, and liked to touch me a lot, but Asher could also be
excruciatingly inhibited when he wanted to be.

This seemed to be one of those times and I couldn't help but feel a little
cheated by it.

"Why are you going all self-conscious on me now?"  I toyed with the idea of
encouraging him and began massaging his temples with my thumbs, then
stopped.  I forced myself to untangle my fingers from his thick tresses and
took a step back.  "Wait a minute, what are you doing here, Asher?  You
didn't come all the way out here just to tease me, did you?"

He frowned deeply.  "Non, cherie.  Jean-Claude sent me to find you."

"He sent you?"  I bit my lower lip and pointed an accusatory finger at
Asher's chest.  "You know, you two have a history together.  I know you
swore an oath of allegiance to him, but for crying out loud, Asher, don't
let him order you around like one of his flunkies."

"Anita, calm down," Asher soothed.  "He asked someone to find you.  I
offered.  It was something I could do for him."  He shoved his hands deep
into his pants pockets and looked away from me with a heavy sigh.  "He
wanted to come to you himself, but we wouldn't let him.  He's not in the
best frame of mind tonight and besides that, the media follow his every move
anymore."

I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously.  "All right, what's going on?"

"I am not at liberty to say," Asher said softly.  "You need to just come
back with me.  Can you?"

My stomach was churning fitfully as my mind began conjuring up all sorts of
heart-wrenching scenarios.  I nodded, but asked, "Is he all right?  Is
everyone else all right?  Can you answer me that much?"

"No one is hurt," Asher assured me.  "Jean-Claude is...upset about
something.  Very upset."

"Upset?"

"He needs you.  I cannot console him.  I tried.  We all did."

"We?  Who's we?"

"Micah, Jason, Gretchen, and myself."

My throat felt tight, all of a sudden.  "Get in the car."

Without hesitation, Asher straightened and stalked around the car to the
passenger side as I slid into the driver's seat.

"Is he at the Circus?"

Asher nodded.

I took a slow, deep breath and started the car.  "So, what's wrong with
him?"

Angling himself in his seat to face me better, Asher shrugged casually.  "He
wouldn't tell me, but I have my suspicions.  He doesn't want to talk to
anyone but you."

I spared a glance in his direction as I did a hairpin U-turn to get the car
facing the direction I needed to go.  "You think it has something to do with
me?"

Again, Asher shrugged.

I bit my lower lip in frustration, my tension increasing two-fold.  "Why are
you being so blasé about this?"  I looked over at him again and caught the
remnants of a frown.

"I'm not being blasé in the least," he retorted, sounding insulted.
"There's just not much I can tell you at the moment."

My hands tightened on the steering wheel.  "I don't believe you for a
second.  You must know what's happened!  You know everything that goes on
around there."

Asher was looking at me now so intensely, I could feel the weight of his
gaze pressing down on me.  I was having a hard time keeping my eyes on the
road, but forced myself to in order to get us both there in one piece.

"Precisely," he said finally, struggling with his voice to keep it even.
"Which means nothing has happened.  If something had, especially something
significant, I would be one of the first in the kiss to know."

Now it was my turn to frown.  He was right.  As Jean-Claude's
second-in-command, Asher often knew the details of any given event even
before Jean-Claude did.  Of the two, he was considered the more accessible
and approachable.  Everyone tried to go to him first if possible.

I swallowed down the knot forming in my throat.  Once again, my frustration
and anger were misplaced and by volunteering to come find me, poor Asher was
having to endure the brunt of it.

"Look.  I'm sorry," I told him and reached over to clasp his hand in mine.
"I'm a little on edge at the moment."

Asher drew my hand to his lips and kissed it softly.  "You're not the only
one, ma cherie.  Because when Jean-Claude is unhappy, everyone is unhappy.
He makes sure of it."

********
The rest of the drive to the Circus of the Damned was spent in a tense
silence.  The only sound in the car was the steady whump and squeak of the
windshield wipers, but at least that was better than nothing.

As soon as I parked, I got out and started off towards the underground
entrance.  Asher followed, but his stride definitely lacked the sense of
urgency I had in mine.  I kept glancing back at him to make sure he was
still following me.  Whatever was going on, he didn't seemed particularly
concerned about it.

Jason was waiting for us at the bottom of the steps.  He smiled when he saw
me and pushed open the door, leaning over to plant a kiss on my cheek as I
hurried past him.

"What's wrong with Jean-Claude?" I asked him, as he sealed the door behind
Asher.  I figured if I asked enough people, maybe I'd get lucky and find
someone who actually knew something.

Jason shrugged.  No such luck.  "I think he just wants to talk to you," he
offered.

I frowned.  "Asher said he was upset about something," I prompted, sparing a
glance up at the silent vampire beside me.

The expression on Jason's face told me he was clueless.  I shook my head and
didn't bother waiting for him to say anymore.

********
Striding anxiously into Jean-Claude's living room, I half expected him to be
pacing the plushly carpeted floor in a hot tantrum, but saw only Gretchen.
She was stretched languidly out on Jean-Claude's black leather couch,
reading a book as if she didn't have a care in the world.  If Jean-Claude
was as unhappy as Asher had implied, she didn't seem particularly put off by
it.  But then if this was solely about me, or our relationship, why would
she?  She was probably enjoying the fact that something was wrong.

Damn. Gretchen was the last person I wanted to talk to.  As it was, she
looked up from her book just long enough to glare at me as I walked by.
Thankfully Asher came to my rescue and spoke to her for me.

"Do you know where Jean-Claude is?"

Gretchen's expression changed from hateful bitch to subservient wench in the
blink of an eye as she looked up at Asher.

"He's in the bedroom," she told him in a quiet, almost reverent voice.
"With the leopard."

Asher turned to me and gestured towards the bedroom, before dropping into
the nearest chair.  "Bon chance, ma cherie," he said and sighed.

I glared at him and then tromped over to the bedroom door.  I knocked on it
forcefully before turning the knob and then quickly slipped inside.

Merle was sitting in the chair beside the foot of the bed, his arms crossed
casually over his chest.  He nodded at me respectfully as I walked into the
room.  I nodded back, then focused my attention on the two figures at the
head of the bed.  What I saw wasn't what Gretchen had implied.

Jean-Claude was sitting on the far corner wearing nothing but a pair of
black pants.  His legs were drawn up to his chest and his arms were wrapped
around his knees.  His waist-length hair covered his bare torso like a
glossy black cloak and his body was curled up so tightly, he was able to
rest his chin on his left kneecap.  You wouldn't think he'd be that flexible
if you didn't know him the way I did.

I stepped closer.  Jean-Claude didn't even look up as I approached him and
gave no outward sign of even knowing I was there.  His eyes were fixed on a
folded document of some sort laying on the bed in front of his bare feet.
His beautiful face was completely void of any expression and I knew from
experience he usually adopted that false look of serenity when he was most
distraught.

I couldn't pick up any emotion inside him either, and realized his
metaphysical shields were locked down against me.  He looked so isolated
from his surroundings, I started to wonder if I would even be able to get
through to him while he was in such a state of withdrawal.  Asher and Jason
had both told me Jean-Claude wanted to speak to me however.  But why
wouldn't he even acknowledge me?

I sighed heavily and focused my attention on Micah who was lying on the bed,
curled around Jean-Claude's hips.  His dark brown hair spilled down his
shoulders onto the red comforter beneath him in a harsh clash of color.  His
hands cradled his deeply tanned face in quiet repose, and at first glance I
thought he was sleeping.  Then I noticed his large yellowish-green eyes were
wide open.

"You look comfortable," I muttered to him.  At least he acknowledged me.

"Very," he rumbled quietly.  Then he smiled, somewhat sadly, stretched
gracefully, and slipped off the side of the bed to greet me.  He grasped my
hands and drew me closer to him, away from Jean-Claude.  He kissed me
lingeringly and nuzzled my cheek affectionately.

I noticed he was almost as dressed up as Asher was tonight.  His suit jacket
was thrown over the foot of the bed close to where Merle sat and he wasn't
wearing a tie, but the dark green silk shirt he was in was pleated in the
front and had gold-colored buttons.  His black pants were French-cut, but
expertly tailored and very form-fitting.  Casual chic.

I looked past his shoulder at Jean-Claude and frowned.  For once he was the
most under-dressed among us.  That in itself spoke volumes.  I turned my
attention back on Micah.

"What's wrong with him?"

Micah glanced over his shoulder, then back to me.  "I promised him I would
leave once you got here," he whispered, avoiding my question altogether.
"He needs to speak with you alone."

I sighed.  "So I've been told."  I opened my mouth to demand immediate
enlightenment, but Micah leaned forward and kissed me again before I could.

"Just be careful," he continued, undaunted by my glare.  "He hasn't fed
yet."

My eyes widened and I drew back from him to look at Jean-Claude.  Now that
Micah had mentioned it, Jean-Claude did look pale to the point of actually
being white.  It was well into the night.  He had to be considerably
weakened by now.  I faced Micah.  He shrugged as if in answer to a question
I had yet to ask.

"I'm sorry, Anita," he apologized.  "I tried.  He wasn't interested."  He
lifted my hand in both of his and squeezed it.  "I'll be at home if you need
me.  For anything."  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Merle stand up as if
on cue.

"Wait, don't go," I told Micah, clutching his hand tightly to keep him with
me.  "He obviously talked to you.  You obviously know what all this is
about.  Can't you explain anything to me?"

He shook his head and patted my hand encouragingly.  "No.  It's best that he
does."  He inclined his head towards Jean-Claude.

The master vampire was still huddled on the corner of the bed and had yet to
move.  It was as if someone had replaced the real Jean-Claude with a
porcelain replica.  Still beautiful, still perfect, but made of cold
lifeless stone.  It twisted my heart seeing him like that.

Micah gently pulled from my grasp, gathered his jacket off the bed, then
walked over to Jean-Claude.  He whispered something in Jean-Claude's ear,
then passed his hand over the vampire's head down the length of his hair in
an affectionate, comforting manner, taking his leave.

Suddenly I was alone.  Practically alone.  I might as well have been alone.
I reluctantly turned to face Jean-Claude.

"Well, I'm here, so you better start talking," I grumbled.

Jean-Claude's eyes shot up to mine so quickly it made me gasp.  He
gracefully unfurled his body and stood up.  Just like that, he was alive
again.  It happened so fast, it was unnerving.  Especially since Micah and I
had been discussing him as if he wasn't even there.

He walked up to me, past me, around me, past me again.  I had to keep
turning in circles to keep my eyes on him.

"I almost hoped you would not come tonight," he began, his voice so soft and
breathy I could barely hear it.  He continued stalking listlessly around the
room, practically wringing his hands in agitation.  "Then I would not have
had to tell you anything.  For one more night at least."

He passed by me again and I grabbed hold of him to make him stop.  His skin
was so cold I immediately let go of him again and stepped back.

"Tell me what?" I demanded.  My nerves couldn't take much more of this.

Jean-Claude looked away from me and sighed.  "I'm almost afraid to tell you.
  Afraid this could drive you from me for good.  You've forgiven me
transgressions in the past, but this...This will be different.  I'll lose
you this time."

He sounded so broken, my heart went out to him.  I reached for him again and
cradled his face in my hands.  He gazed down at me, his expression still
blank, but his eyes were glassy-looking, like he was on the verge of tears.

"Please tell me, Jean-Claude.  Please.  You're making me crazy!"

What he did next startled me.  He submissively dropped to his knees in front
of me and bowed his head.

"I love you, Anita," he suddenly declared, wrapping his hands around my
wrists.  He turned his head and kissed my palms, then sank back on his
heels, clutching my hands to his chest, and closing his eyes.

I suddenly felt sick and wanted to shake him, but managed to quash the urge
before I did.  Being hysterical never accomplished anything worthwhile.

"You love me," I confirmed, struggling to keep my voice calm.  "But...?"

He opened his eyes, looked up at me and laughed.  It was the most
hollow-sounding laugh I had ever heard from him.  It still gave me chills,
but not the usual tingly kind.  He released my hands suddenly and took a
deep breath.  The first I'd noticed he took since I had arrived.  My nausea
was getting decidedly worse.

"You know me too well, ma petite."

"Shit," I swore.  This could only mean one thing.  I backed away from him,
unable to keep the horror off my face.  "What have you done, Jean-Claude?"

He pursed his full lips and placed his hands on the tops of his thighs,
staring up at me unblinkingly.  "I've done nothing...yet."

I shook my head.  He looked far too innocent--far too tragic.  This had to
be an act.  "Then tell me what this is all about!" I snarled.  "Tell me
something...besides the fact that you love me.  And it had better be some
absolutely monumental revelation too, that's all I can say."

Jean-Claude bowed his head again as if he knew he couldn't maintain his
neutral expression anymore, and didn't want me to see the emotions he was
feeling reflected on his face.  "Yes, I love you, but..." he continued,
flatly.  "I am being forced to do something that I know will deeply hurt
you.  Something you may never be able to forgive me for." He seemed overcome
by the thought and paused to collect himself before continuing.  "I can only
hope, you will try to understand its necessity, and not hold it against
me...forever."

That was it.  I couldn't stand all this hedging around anymore.  I'd had it.
  Now I did scream at him.  I seized a fistful of his hair and yanked his
head back until his eyes met mine.

"Damn it, look at me!" I seethed.  "Cut the histrionics, Jean-Claude, and
tell me what the fuck you're talking about!"

For a brief moment, I knew I had startled him.  Then Jean-Claude's
expression hardened.  With one forceful toss of his head, he jerked free of
my grasp and caught my wrist in mid air with a lightening fast strike of his
hand.  He squeezed it hard enough to make me wince.

"No mercy for me, ma petite?" he whispered tightly, releasing me with a
slight shove.  "Surely you must feel how terribly hard this is for me to
tell you."

Actually, I did, and that scared me more than anything.  My heart started
pounding in my ears and my mouth went completely dry.  I started massaging
my throbbing wrist and noticed the long black strands of hair clenched
between my fingers that I had torn from his head as he pulled away from me.

I lowered my hand to my side and sighed heavily.  "I'm sorry, Jean-Claude,"
I whispered.  "But you're really starting to scare me now."  I was almost
ready to get on my knees myself.  "Just tell me, please."

Jean-Claude's face became unreadable again.  He stared up at me passively a
moment longer before turning his eyes slowly towards the bed and the
document lying there.

"What is that?" I asked, forcing myself to walk past Jean-Claude to the head
of the bed.

"An edict for a sanctioned execution," he replied, almost casually and rose
to his feet, keeping his back to me.

I froze momentarily, feeling a stab of panic seize me.  I licked my dry lips
and forced myself to reach for the letter.  I felt like I was moving in slow
motion.  I didn't really want to pick it up.

Sometimes, the government sent these decrees to the master vampire of a city
if they knew who they were and where they could be reached.  It was a kind
of polite way to notify the Master of the City that one of his vampires had
misbehaved and request that he please do the unsavory business of seeing the
offending vamp properly disposed of.  Edicts relied heavily on a master
vampire's willingness to maintain amiable human/vampire relations.

Just a few years ago, the human populace was kept blissfully unaware of who
the ruling vampires were.  Since Jean-Claude was something of a
quasi-celebrity here in St. Louis, everyone knew who and what he was.  I
never liked the fact that he was such a public figure, but the Vampire
Council had ordered him a year or so ago to be their representative to the
media.  His image was the type they wanted to project.  After all, he was
intelligent, articulate, charming, for the most part congenial, and his
beauty was to die for.  Literally.

Reluctantly, I picked the document up, but suddenly couldn't bring myself to
read it.  I closed my eyes and clutched the paper to my chest.   "Who's it
for?" I asked, my voice strained and small.

I could barely even bring myself to ask.  I didn't really want to know.
Jean-Claude was being ordered to kill someone who was special to me.
Someone who's death he believed I would never forgive him for.  I was
beginning to comprehend why Jean-Claude had been so hesitant to come right
out and tell me.

I hadn't received an order for a vampire execution in a long time.  This
particular termination must have been assigned to someone else.  Then, it
was common knowledge that I was heavily involved with the Master of the
City.  Maybe the courts had decided assigning this execution to me would be
a conflict of interest.

I heard Jean-Claude sigh and looked over at him.  His back was still to me.
All I could see of him was that veil of hair.

"Of course you know what it says without even reading it, don't you, Anita?"
he said with a hint of accusation in his tone.  He walked across the length
of the bedroom as if putting as much distance between us as he could.  "They
want me to give them the heart of one of my vampires."

Feeling my lungs begin to burn, I realized I had been holding my breath and
released it forcefully.  "Who is it, Jean-Claude?"

"Sit down first."

I shook my head, my grip tightening on the edict.  All I needed to do was
look down and read it, but that one simple act seemed impossible all of a
sudden.  I tried to get Jean-Claude to tell me one more time.  "Why can't
you just answer my fucking question?"

Jean-Claude turned around and glared at me.  "I said it was one of my
vampires, but forgive me, ma petite.  I misspoke," he told me, his voice low
and ominously calm.  "It is, in fact, your vampire.  Not mine."

I gasped.  The world suddenly stopped spinning and I felt like my body was
still caught up in its momentum, or the room I was standing in had started
spinning.  Either way, I felt the blood drain from my face in a heated rush.
  I was so light-headed now, I believed I was actually about to pass out.

Jean-Claude was beside me again in the blink of an eye, his arms around me,
supporting me.  He eased me over to the side of the bed and forced me to sit
down.

"I knew you would react this way," he growled, sitting beside me and
stroking my hair.  "I reacted in much the same way when I found out.  That's
why I wanted to try to prepare you a little.  But you're so infuriatingly
impatient at times, ma petite.  It makes me spiteful.  Truly I had no right
to blurt it out to you the way I did.  Can you forgive me that little
indiscretion at least?"

He stopped ranting long enough for me to find my voice.

"Damian?" I breathed.  "But why?"

Jean-Claude sighed.  "Have you forgotten what happened while you were in New
Mexico, ma petite?  The two people he tore apart in their car?"

I shook my head.  I had tried, almost to the point of success, to push that
bit of knowledge into the darkest, farthest recesses of my mind, never to be
remembered again.  But I hadn't forgotten.  Not really.

"But he was sick...."

"It does not matter," Jean-Claude said and gazed down at me with soft,
sympathetic eyes.  "I am so sorry.  More than you know."

Ignoring my vertigo, I shot to my feet.  "Don't you dare be sorry!  Don't
even think about it!  You're not going to do anything to be sorry for!"

With a long drawn out moan, Jean-Claude leaned away from me and covered his
eyes with his hand.  "I am not above the law, ma petite."

"No!" I snapped and fitfully shredded the edict under his nose and flung the
tattered pieces on the floor.  "You can't kill him!  I won't let you!"

Suddenly, I couldn't breathe.  I had to get out of that room, away from
Jean-Claude.  He was the enemy now.  He wanted to kill someone I loved.  I
whirled around and made a dash for the door.

Jean-Claude sprang after me and grabbed my arm, hauling me back around to
face him.

"Do I mean so little to you, you would have me suffer the consequences of
disobeying your laws?  Either I kill him or I turn him over to an
executioner.  Those are my choices.  It sickens me, Anita, but my hands have
been effectively tied in this matter!"

I struggled to break free, but he had me in a vice-like grip.  I'm sure I'd
have lovely multi-colored bruises to show for it in the morning.  In that
instant I hated him.  Truly hated him and wanted to spit in his face,
scratch his eyes out, or slug him, but I knew better than to get into a
wrestling match with a master vampire.  However, there were other, more
effective ways, I could punish him.

"You sonofabitch!  Asher was right!" I screamed, trying harder to jerk my
arm from his grasp.  The pain he was causing me was only fueling my anger.
"You'd do anything to ensure your own survival!  Even if it cost the lives
of those close to you!  You don't give a damn who's blood you step in, do
you?  You don't care about anybody but yourself!  You're such a liar,
Jean-Claude.  And everyone knows it!"

For a moment, Jean-Claude froze, clearly stunned.  Then he blinked slowly
and stared back at me inquisitively as if searching for some sign that I
actually believed what I had just said.  In that instant, I realized just
how much that had hurt him, but I was too blinded by my outrage to really
care.

Jean-Claude released my arm finally and turned away from me to go sit on the
edge of the bed.  He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and
lowered his head into his hands.  His hair flowed over his shoulders like a
curtain of black silk and he dragged his hands through it, pushing it back
from his face a few times.  Then he simply buried his fingers in it, took a
deep breath, and closed his eyes.

He had zoned out on me again.  He became very still and for the longest
time, I couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.  I considered just
leaving--I doubted he would try to stop me now, but what would leaving
accomplish?  I needed Jean-Claude on my side.  I couldn't go anywhere until
we had worked something out.

I called his name, but he didn't respond.  I stood in the middle of the
room, feeling very frightened and alone all of a sudden.  And more than a
little abused by circumstances.  How could so many things go wrong in such a
short span of time? I wondered.  I walked over to the chair Merle had been
sitting in and threw myself into it.  Not really knowing what else to do at
the moment, I waited.

In the ensuing silence, I could hear my pulse banging in my ears and
suddenly remembered Micah telling me Jean-Claude hadn't fed all night.  I
suppose vampires could lose their appetites every once in awhile, just like
humans could when they were upset.  And Jean-Claude had been as upset as I
had ever seen him tonight.  He was so afraid he'd lose me over this.  Now
that I knew what his fears had been based on, he had every right to worry
about losing me.  This could change everything between us.  Nothing would
ever make it right.

I realized then, that I didn't want that to happen.  I had to do everything
in my power to ensure it didn't.  I was bound to Jean-Claude by more than
just my feelings for him.  I was his human servant.  The marks I bore had
been married.  I'd never truly be able to separate myself from him because
of that.

As I continued to gaze at Jean-Claude, I felt the first twinge of remorse
nudge my conscience.  I knew that whole sorry mess with Julianna and Asher
still haunted Jean-Claude and it was truly malicious of me to throw it in
his face the way I did.  I wanted to apologize to him for being so nasty,
but resisted the urge for the time being.  I could not cave in to this, no
matter how much I hurt him.  Damian's life was on the line and there was no
room for remorse.

"Promise me you are not going to betray Damian," I said, softly.

Jean-Claude looked up.  I wasn't expecting him to and it startled me.

"I have not betrayed him, ma petite," he replied, his voice raw and thick
with emotion.  "But someone within my kiss has.  If I can do anything for
him now, it will be to find the one responsible for this and exact a
justifiable revenge.  Damian's and my own."

I sat forward in my chair.  "Damian needs your protection right now, not
your revenge," I grumbled.

Rising fluidly to his feet, Jean-Claude massaged his eyes wearily.  "You'd
have me disregard their proclamation, jeopardize the safety of all my
vampires, my freedom, my lands, all my allies, to satisfy this...tres
galant, but rather distorted sense of devotion you feel for him?  He is one
vampire!  You may feel responsible for him, but I am responsible for
hundreds of others!"

I shook my head.  I didn't want to hear his reasoning, no matter how viable
it was.  "You're right, Jean-Claude.  I am the one responsible for him and
I'm not about to let anything happen to him."

Jean-Claude's despair was giving way to anger now.  He wasn't shielding me
from his emotions anymore and I could feel the change in him through our
bond as his power flared and bristled in the air between us.  I was not
about to let him intimidate me however.

I pointed my finger at him.  "If you go through with this, Jean-Claude," I
warned, rising from the chair and walking towards him.  "I will never
forgive you.  You can count on that."

Jean-Claude began stalking around me so slowly and fluidly, he reminded me
of a predator moving in for the kill.  Then, he actually was a predator.
Was I the kill?  I raised my chin defiantly, daring him to do anything rash.
  But instead of rash, he chose to do what I had done to him.  He went
straight for my heart.

"How ironic all this is, ma petite," he whispered, leaning his head over my
shoulder.  I could feel the coolness of his breath against my face and it
sent goosebumps rippling down my spine.  "Once upon a time, you would have
received the order to execute Damian.  You would have hunted him down, shot
him through the heart, and cut off his head without a second thought.  Just
as ruthlessly as you have done countless times before."

I turned my head and looked up into Jean-Claude's eyes.  I could feel my
chest tighten and hot, heavy tears slide down my cheeks, unstoppable.  Yeah,
the truth hurts.

Jean-Claude raised his hand to my face and scooped up one of my tears on his
index finger.  He carried it to his lips, then licked it off slowly, as if
savoring its taste, keeping his eyes fastened to mine.

"Maybe I didn't feel anything for the vampires I executed, but then I didn't
know them the way I know Damian."  I wiped the remaining tears off my face
with the heel of my hands and sniffed loudly.

Jean-Claude's expression softened and I felt his anger ebb away like a lunar
tide.  He realized he had succeeded in hurting the one he loved, but unlike
me, he had no stomach for it.  He placed his hands on my arms and kneaded
them soothingly.

"What makes him so special to you, ma petite?" he asked quietly.  "Why am I
led to believe you would do anything to protect him?  Are you so in love
with him?"

I shook my head.  "I'm not in love with him.  I love him...but you're the
only one I'm in love with."

A slow, sad smile tugged at the corners of Jean-Claude's mouth.  "You say
that so very sweetly, but if it's true, why don't I warrant such devotion
from you?  Why do you prefer to sacrifice me to save him?"

I gazed up at him and bit my lower lip.  I didn't know what to say.

He turned his face away from me then and wrapped his arms around his chest,
bowing his head so that his chin rested on his right wrist.  His long hair
cloaked his left side in a mass of tangled curls that spiraled down to his
navel.  The blackness of his hair contrasted sharply with the whiteness of
his skin.  He looked like some exquisite porcelain figurine standing there
like that.  The kind you saw only in the windows of the most exclusive curio
shops in Paris or Milan.  So poignantly beautiful and fragile, but at the
same time, begging to be touched.

I couldn't help myself.  I stepped up behind him and slipped my arms around
his waist.  I leaned into his back and rested my cheek between his shoulder
blades.  My hands slid across the flat plane of his abdomen, then down the
front of his pants.  Jean-Claude unfurled his arms and covered my hands with
his.  I heard him sigh faintly and felt his body mold against me.  Holding
him like this, feeling him under my hands, made my mind cloudy with desire.
All I wanted to do right now was forget everything.  Lose myself in him,
touch him, and let his body move over mine.

Jean-Claude took hold of my left hand and brought my wrist to his mouth.  I
tensed slightly, but he only kissed it.  Then he carefully and delicately
grazed my skin with his teeth and a low whimper escaped his throat.  Well
aware of the fact Jean-Claude had yet to feed tonight, his gesture startled
me and I gently pulled my hand away from him and re-wrapped it around his
waist.  He sighed heavily.

"Forgive me.  I can smell the heat in your blood, ma petite," he murmured
thickly.  "But I should know better than to touch you so suggestively.  You
won't give yourself to me in that way.  To even offer is unthinkable, isn't
it?"  His voice was getting breathier, softer, and harder to hear.  He
paused and languidly stroked the length of my arms.  It felt good and eased
some of the tension in my body, if not my conscience.  "Yet, when I feel
your desire like I do now, I happily offer you everything I am."

I was not about to feel guilty for depriving him of my blood.  "I'm sorry,
Jean-Claude.  But you know the rules."

"Yes," he said and nodded slowly.  What he said next surprised me.  "I think
I'm beginning to understand.  This is the first time tonight you have wanted
to hold me.  As much as your embrace pleases me now, I know you approached
me out of lust, not love."  He laughed lightly but there wasn't any joy or
humor to it.  It was actually rather sad-sounding.  He continued.  "Since I
am such a wicked liar, perhaps after all this time, I have lied even to
myself.  I had convinced myself that you truly loved me, but maybe in
reality, I am only to you what I have been to countless others throughout
the years--merely something pretty you come to for gratification.  Something
to use and then cast aside.  I need to feel loved right now, ma petite, but
all you offer me is lust."

I did feel a little guilty about that.  His words were too close for
comfort.  I immediately stopped groping him and slipped around in front of
him.  I looked up at him with all the intention of quipping off a sharp
rebuttal--after all, if he was feeling like a sex object, it was his own
damn fault, not mine.   But the shadow of doubt I saw lingering in the dark
blue depths of his eyes stirred my heart with unexpected compassion.

Was Jean-Claude really doubting my love for him?  He was so insecure
sometimes.  I could never understand that, but I guess I had given him just
cause to doubt me tonight.  So what could I possibly do to reassure him?
Anything sexual would be just that.  Then I remembered the way Asher had
kissed him, all those years ago.

The memory of it was still vivid in my mind.  Tentatively, I raised my hand
and placed it against Jean-Claude's cheek, then I leaned forward and brushed
my lips over his.  I opened my mouth encouragingly and slipped my tongue
between his teeth.  Slowly, passionately, I moved my jaw against his.  I
kissed him with everything I had.

It took a couple of heartbeats before Jean-Claude allowed himself to believe
the sincerity behind my tenderness enough to kiss me back, but when he did,
the room dissolved around us and the hour-glass of time began spinning
towards the past.  Back to that same cobblestone road, on that same cold,
rainy night under that same street lamp by the bridge.

I didn't let up until I heard Jean-Claude groan softly and deeply in his
throat.  When I drew away from him and looked up into his eyes now, he was
gazing down at me with the most endearingly perplexed expression.

"Don't ever doubt me again, Jean-Claude," I murmured.

It took him a couple of tries to find his voice.  "Does this mean you will
forgive me after all?" he inquired somewhat breathlessly and with newfound
hope.

I furrowed my brow.  Damn.  We were back to that again.  I shook my head
slowly.

"....No.  But since I'm not going to let you kill Damian...or hand him over
to an executioner, the whole matter of me forgiving you is null and void."

Jean-Claude groaned now in exasperation.  He turned away from me and started
pacing the length of the room.

"Why am I unable to make you understand?" he growled, more to himself than
to me, I think.

"No one is killing Damian," I declared.  There.  End of discussion.

"Oh really?" Jean-Claude asked, feigning shock.  "And just how do you
propose to keep him alive?  If wishes were horses, ma petite...."

I glared at him.  "Just give me some time, Jean-Claude.  I'll think of
something."

"We don't have the luxury of time," he stated flatly.  He stopped pacing and
stood regarding me a little sympathetically.  "When are you going to realize
you cannot always save us?  Why do you continue to try?  It takes so much
out of you every time you do, soon, there'll be nothing left of you to give.
  We will all suffer then."

A wave of emotion suddenly hit me and I wasn't sure if it was mine or
Jean-Claude's.  I felt a lump tightening my throat, however.

"I have to try, Jean-Claude," I whispered.  "I'll never forgive myself if I
don't try."

********
********
No one was in the living room when Jean-Claude and I emerged from the
bedroom with our uneasy truce.  He would give me all the time he possibly
could before replying to the edict, and I would forgive him if it came to
that, simply because I had to.  I loved him.  Jean-Claude and I would have
to think of some way to save Damian before it came to that however.  The
courts had given us a whopping forty-eight hours to comply to their wishes
before they organized a hunt.  That's right, failure was not an option.

We were alone in this too.  Jean-Claude warned me not to discuss the edict
with anyone.  He was serious about finding out who had betrayed Damian and
didn't want to tip anyone off concerning our plans.

"No one?" I asked, my heart sinking.

Jean-Claude shook his head.  "No one."

"Not even Asher?"

"No."

"But we're going to need help.  Asher could help us."

"He will help us without knowing why."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  "You really think Asher would be
capable of betraying Damian?....Not to mention you and me?"

Jean-Claude didn't even have to think about it.  "He was capable of much
worse things in the past.  He has the perfect motive, ma petite.  You are
all that stands between the two of us being lovers again.  If he did this,
he did it to drive you away from me."

I shook my head adamantly.  "Capable of such things in the past maybe, but
not now!" I protested.  "Jean-Claude, if you keep him out of something like
this, it might do irreparable damage to your friendship."

Jean-Claude took my hand and squeezed it tightly, almost threateningly.  "It
may already be too late," he stated, then looked past me suddenly.

I didn't have time to wonder about that bit of prophetic gloom.  Asher was
walking slowly towards us.  He looked from Jean-Claude to me, then back to
Jean-Claude.  "Is everything...all right now?" he questioned carefully,
stopping in the middle of the living room.

I took a deep breath.  "Sure.  Everything's just peachy."

Jean-Claude squeezed my hand again and stepped away from me.  In
retaliation, I pinched his arm discreetly, but hard enough to make him
twitch.  He shot me a censured look before focusing his attention on Asher.

"We have reconciled our differences for the time being," he lied.  Well, it
was mostly the truth.

Asher forced a smile.  "Ah, bon.  Tres bon."  He reached up and brushed
Jean-Claude's cheek lightly with his knuckles before looking over at me.
"See, cherie, I knew his heartache had something to do with you."

I nodded reluctantly and stepped towards him.  "That it did."  At least that
was the truth.

"Anita needs to find Damian, mon ami," Jean-Claude continued, addressing
Asher.  "And I need to feed.  If you would be so kind as to escort her to
Danse Macabre for me?"

Asher looked at me and offered me a little bow.  "I'd be happy to."

Jean-Claude leaned over, as if to kiss my cheek, but whispered in my ear
instead.  "Let me know what you decide to do as soon as possible," he told
me.  "If there's anything you need, anything that you believe may help,
contact me."  Then he actually did kiss my cheek.

I was starting to feel daunted again.  I really had no clue as to how to
pull this rescue off.  But first things first, I had to tell Damian he'd
been put on the government's hit list.  I turned to Asher.

"Let's get out of here."

Asher looked from me to Jean-Claude with a quizzical expression.  It was
obvious he suspected something wasn't quite right.  It made me want to stomp
my feet and demand Jean-Claude tell him everything this instant.

I just couldn't believe Asher would betray us.  If anything, Asher had more
common sense than to concoct a scheme like this just to get me away from
Jean-Claude.  He would have to realize if Jean-Claude ever found out he was
the one responsible for this, not only would his plan backfire and turn
Jean-Claude against him, Jean-Claude would most likely kill him.

I looked up into Asher's eyes and suddenly felt my own watering excessively.
  And what about me?  I had always believed Asher loved me in his own way.
Why would he want to hurt me so badly?  No, I just couldn't believe it.

"Ma petite, are you all right?" Jean-Claude asked, pulling me out of my
reverie.

I nodded quickly and tried to sniff quietly.  Jean-Claude sighed softly and
wrapped his arm around my shoulders encouragingly.  He kissed the top of my
head and murmured something to me in French that I didn't understand, but
found comforting anyway.  I turned and leaned against Jean-Claude's chest,
snuggling closer to cool my flushed skin with his.

Asher sidled up behind me and put his hands on my upper arms.  His body was
warm and firm.  He lowered his head until it was resting on my shoulder, his
smooth left cheek pressed against mine.

"Cherie, don't cry," he whispered.

Being sandwiched between the two vampires the way I was had an almost
mind-numbing effect on me.  I allowed myself a brief respite sheltered
between their contrasting bodies before wiggling free.

"I am not crying," I sniffed again and swiped my wrist across my eyes.

Asher put his hands on his hips and cocked his head dubiously.  "Love's a
bitch, isn't it?" he said so unexpectedly, it made me laugh.  He gave
Jean-Claude a contemplative look before turning to me.  Then he smiled
devilishly and stretched out his hand.  "Come.  Let us go find fair Damian,
shall we?"

I went to him and clasped his hand in mine.  "Yes, let's," I replied.

Asher glanced over his shoulder at Jean-Claude.  "Don't wait up," he
quipped.

Jean-Claude emitted a soft snort of a laugh and placed his hand on Asher's
shoulder.

"Go," he said and all but pushed us both out the door.  "You haven't much
time."

There was something ominous in the way he'd said that.  Of course I knew he
was speaking of more than the coming dawn.

********
It had stopped raining finally.  I turned off the windshield wipers and
opened my window a crack.  The air was heavy with the ionic scent of mist
and the temperature had dropped a few degrees.

The drive to Danse Macabre was spent in a welcomed, soothing silence.  Asher
seemed to sense my need to ponder my place in the universe and left me to my
thoughts.  He sat beside me, staring out the window as quiet and still as I
had ever seen him.

There was an air of seclusion surrounding him tonight, but along with that
was a sense of resignation.  He seemed to know he was being excluded again
and there was nothing left for him to do but accept it.

I parked as far away from the club as I could, beyond the glare of the
lights.  I looked at Asher expectantly before getting out of the car.
However, he wasn't looking at me, he was eyeing the club with a mixture of
intrigue and acute trepidation.  He seemed to feel the weight of my stare
and turned to face me.  I raised my brow and gestured with my head for him
to get out.

He frowned, but indulged me and got out of the car.  I took a deep breath,
opened the door and was surprised to find him already standing in front of
me as I did.  I nudged him in the ribs.  It was time to talk.

"You're very quiet, Asher.  But I can practically hear the wheels of your
mind spinning," I teased, purposefully keeping my tone light and cheerful.

He looked down at me slowly and offered me a graceful shrug.  "I could say
the same about you."

I sighed.  He was too sullen, too brooding all of a sudden.  I leaned into
him then and slipped my arm around his waist.  "What's wrong, Asher?"

He smiled at me, but it wasn't from mirth.  "What isn't wrong, Anita?" he
answered sharply, then dropped his eyes from mine and a look of regret
passed over his face.  "I'm sorry.  I just...I hate it when he hurts you."

I blinked up at him in confusion for a moment before I realized what he was
talking about.  I shook my head.  "I shot as many arrows at Jean-Claude
tonight as he shot at me."  I couldn't tell him why I was really upset.  It
was best to let him believe the lover's spat theory for now.  But then I
didn't want him upset with Jean-Claude.  "I know he still loves me, Asher."

Asher shot me a rather suspicious look.  "He tells me he loves me too.  You
can see how far it has gotten me with him," he replied bitterly.

For the first time, I considered the possibility that he could have been the
one to betray us.  Frowning, I turned away from him, and determinedly pushed
the notion back out of my mind.

"What do you want me to say?"

Flashing his fangs in a snarl of frustration, Asher dragged his hand roughly
through his thick hair, sweeping it away from his face momentarily.

"You can tell me the truth," he began tightly.  "I won't think any less of
him, if you do.  Remember, I know Jean-Claude even better than you do.  I
know what an evil sonofabitch he can be when the mood hits him."

I let my arm fall from Asher's waist back to my side.  "Yeah, well, you're
wrong about him.  You've been wrong about him before, but don't feel bad.
He's wrong about you too."

"Is he?" Asher said, looking down at me.  His expression morphing into a
precise blend of amusement and awe.  "And love is deaf and dumb as well as
blind, isn't it?"  He shook his head, his hair falling back over the right
side of his face.  "We're both pitiful.  We should both tell him to go to
hell."  He paused and fished inside his jacket pocket for a cigarette.  "Go
on.  Get Damian.  And I'll be waiting right here for you when you decide you
want me."

Catching his innuendo, I glanced away from him, feeling a blush creeping up
my neck and warming my cheeks.  I knew a double entendre when I heard one.

"You're such a devil."

He merely smiled.

I gnawed my lower lip, debating.  Then I found myself speaking before I had
even decided to.

"Asher, would you really have sex with me if I asked you to?"

That seemed to startle him because he almost dropped the cigarette he was
attempting to light.  He leaned away from me slightly and locked his widened
eyes on mine, clearly trying to decide if I was serious or not.  He must
have come to the conclusion that I wasn't.

"Ma cherie, you play with fire asking me questions like that.  I don't
appreciate it."

I wasn't about to back down however.  "Well, would you?  If I asked?"

Finally Asher nodded.  "In a heartbeat," he said in an exhaled breath, his
voice slightly thicker than it was before.

Now it was my turn to show him doubt.  "But what about your secret?  All
would be revealed."

This caught him off guard as well.  He gave up on the cigarette and stashed
it back in his pocket.  His eyes roved my face, searchingly.

"It would be worth it...I think."

I decided it was time for a little encouragement.  Stepping around in front
of him, I purposefully pressed my thighs against his.  I felt him tense and
the look on his face now was uncertain.

"If you're as ruined as you seem to like everyone to think you are, you
wouldn't be so quick to accept my offer, now would you?"

Asher was breathing slowly and deeply now.  "Maybe I get aroused by
revulsion," he whispered, then bent his head towards me until his face was
mere inches from mine and placed his hands lightly on my hips.  "We wouldn't
have to have intercourse.  In fact, there are...many...other ways to please
a woman, Anita."

The blush on my face was spreading through my body now, settling deep down
inside the cradle of my hips.  I slid my hands up his chest, under his
jacket.  I could feel his nipples harden beneath my palms through his silk
shirt.  His eyes looked like smoke, hot and suffocating, but at the same
time, full of beauty and grace.

"Do you love me, Asher?" I questioned him earnestly, my voice barely
audible.  I had to know.  Looking up at him, I tried to let him know how
desirable and handsome I thought he was.  According to Asher, I was the only
one besides Jean-Claude who looked at him that way.

Asher stared back at me, momentarily stunned, then he trembled slightly and
seemed to melt against me with a long, languid sigh.

"I adore you," he breathed and abruptly bridged the distance separating our
lips.  He captured my mouth with his with such a devouring intensity, I felt
myself starting to swoon.

My lips were already tingling exquisitely.  I felt the careful press of his
fangs and opened my mouth to deepen the kiss.  Then I felt the hot slickness
of his tongue tangling with mine, tasted the unnatural coppery sweetness of
his saliva, and felt the pressure of his jaw moving over mine.

Asher's power surged, pouring the emotions of his heart into mine and
filling me with an amplified sensation of being loved.  I had been kissed
before by people who loved me, but never like this.  Through his kiss, I
felt Asher's love for me, just like Jean-Claude had felt Asher's love for
him over a hundred years ago.

I moaned long and low, ready to surrender myself entirely to my passion and
felt my ardeur suddenly brimming to the surface inside me, threatening to
spill its scalding effects over us and take us both beyond the point of no
return.  I started sliding the jacket off Asher's shoulders and pushing him
bodily towards the backseat of my car.  I hadn't fed it in hours and knew I
was treading in dangerous waters now.  Shit.  I knew Jean-Claude would be
all right with me taking Asher as my lover to feed the ardeur, but this was
neither the time nor the place.

Asher's arms encircled my back and he crushed me against his chest.  His
kiss became all consuming, more demanding, but then just as abruptly as he
had taken me, he stopped, suddenly unsure.

"I can feel your hesitation," he whispered into my ear, his voice sensuously
low and provocative.

With more willpower than I thought I possessed, I reluctantly pried myself
free from his grasp and took a few steps away from him to try to clear my
head.  I hoped with all my heart he wouldn't misinterpret this the wrong
way, but I truly did not have time to indulge myself with him in the
backseat of my car right now.

I looked up at him, trying to remember how to breathe while simultaneously
tamping down the ardeur.  I knew it wouldn't be so forgiving the next time
it rose.  I'd have to feed it no matter what.

"We can't do this right now," I gasped.  "Not like this.  Not here."

Asher glanced around the parking lot and frowned deeply.  Thankfully, he
seemed to agree with me.

At least I knew without the slightest doubt now that Asher had not been the
one who had betrayed Damian to the authorities.  He loved me.  He loved
Jean-Claude.  There was just no way he was the one.  I swore hotly under my
breath and shook my head.

"Oh...fuck Jean-Claude!" I spat, coming to a monumental executive decision.

Asher's jaw slackened and dropped.  "....What?"

I groaned.  "Oh, no, I didn't mean that literally.  It was just an
expression."  I should know by now never to use expressions that could be
taking literally.

"Of course," Asher said and then sighed.  "I understand."  He passed his
hand over his face, struggling momentarily with his composure.  I guess I
had caught him by surprise once too often tonight.

I suddenly stepped forward and took his hands in mine.

"Asher...I need your help."

Continue to Part 2

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