Page 90 of Smolder (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter 29)

“Never,” Richard said. “It’s impossible to get away from everyone’s phones. They’re always there waiting to film anything interesting or weird and putting it online instantly.”

Demo looked thoughtful, honestly more thoughtful than I’d thought he was capable of, but maybe his bad attitude made me underestimate him? I’d try to keep an open mind if Demo would just stop doing stupid, mean-spirited things.

“I get it, fucking phones are everywhere, and the fuckers put everything online,” Demo said.

“We’re having to watch out for them in really remote areas where you’d think no one would have a smartphone,” one of the tall, dark werewolves said. What was his name? Jones, Jim, J-something.

“Got that right,” Demo said, and the others agreed.

Crisis averted; Demo went through the door without a complaint. The other werewolves went with him as if afraid he would do something they’d regret. They seemed to feel responsible for him since they’d all survived the same attack, but I wasn’t sure they liked him much. I wasn’t sure anyone here in St. Louis liked him much. What were we going to do with him?

Richard walked toward us, then looked at how the three of us were standing. I watched doubts and questions go through his eyes, while he fought to keep them off his face. Only knowing him so well once upon a time let me see the confusion.

“Is there something I need to know about Nicky and Jean-Claude?” he asked.

I reached out to him delicately, using some of the new skills I’d learned at last, but his own confused emotions were blinding him. He couldn’t feel anything outside himself. Strong emotions could fuel your magic or cripple it. I realized that Jean-Claude had narrowed the marks between us, so that we weren’t getting every damn emotion back and forth. Great by me, but I wondered what Jean-Claude wanted to hide enough to do it. Weren’t we supposed to keep the marks open for power right now?

“I’m not his type, not pretty enough,” Nicky said, smiling wideenough to make his face crinkle all the way to the scars where his eye should have been. I loved that he was willing to smile like that now. I went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek; to reach his lips he had to meet me partway, but he didn’t. He kept staring at Richard, only changing from holding my hand to wrapping his arm around me. It forced me to wrap my arm around his waist, or just stand there awkwardly, but I didn’t like that he had passed up a chance to kiss me to play dominance games with Richard.

Nicky said, “Sorry, babe,” and he started to lean down for a kiss.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Babe?”

“We’re supposed to be trying out endearments,” he said.

“Not ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’ ” I said.

He grinned at me. “I’d let you call me ‘baby.’ ”

“Would you, really? Baby?” I said, smiling.

He grinned. “Let us confound societal expectations, Big Daddy.”

I laughed out loud, and everyone left with us joined in, even Richard. Ethan said, “If you’re actually going to call each other ‘baby’ and ‘Big Daddy,’ please do it where I can watch people’s faces.”

“I tried to be jealous, I mean I am jealous, but you are fun together. It’s like this couple dynamic I’ve never seen Anita do before,” Richard said.

“You will findma petitemuch more comfortable and much lighter with many things, and many people,” Jean-Claude said.

“I can’t wait,” Richard said.

“Then let’s get you all through the door and secure it behind us,” Jake said.

“You really think Deimos could attack us here in the Circus?” I asked.

“He is a powerful foe who has surprised us once tonight, it would be foolish to underestimate him again.”

Suddenly I didn’t feel cheerful, I felt scared. Nicky hugged me, then stepped back so Jean-Claude could lead me forward. He startedto, then stopped and reached his other hand out to Richard. I didn’t complain, I didn’t even feel weird about it. Richard had been a really good sport tonight and there would be a lot more chances for him to keep being a good sport tonight. We followed Jake and Wicked through the door hand in hand in hand.

37

THERE WAS Awall of gauzy curtains almost immediately through the door. They were the “walls” for the living room because it was really just one big cave. Wicked held the gauzy curtains aside for us to enter. Jake went ahead of us just a little, but if something jumped us in the living room that would mean they’d gotten past all the other guards, which would mean we’d already lost. Luckily the scariest thing waiting for us was the anxiety radiating off Damian. He stood at the edge of the antique Persian rug that looked like brilliant stained glass, but we’d put a thicker cushioning underneath it, so you’d never know it sat on bare stone.

Damian’s red hair was the closest to true red, like a Crayola crayon, than any other natural redhead I’d ever met. I guess a thousand years of no sunlight on your hair will change the color. It fell past his shoulders, so red that it brought out the red in the rug. He was wearing his favorite robe. A dark, rich, blue velvet a little frayed at the cuffs and hem, and though I couldn’t see it from this angle I knew that the elbows were starting to come out. It was a Victorian dressing gown that he’d gotten when they were all the rage. Now it was one of his comfort objects. He must have been ready for bed, which meant there’d be silky pajama pants on under the robe.

Damian’s anxiety rode my body so that my heartbeat sped insympathy. He wanted to run to me, kiss me, but he wasn’t sure if it would be welcome with the three of us standing hand in hand. I might have used our metaphysical connection to find out what was wrong, but I wasn’t sure if what I learned would translate directly to Jean-Claude and Richard. I could open up and hear everyone, but I wasn’t so good at keeping the individual parts from intermingling. So I said, “Damian, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to overstep,” he said, and his voice had a note of tormented uncertainty that I hadn’t heard in it for a year.

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