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Consequences	By : Sabriel0405 Category: Anita Blake > Het Views: 4737 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Anita Blake series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 9

I dressed and we left the Circus in search of something to eat. The day was bright, I was armed and no one was trying to kill me. I took pleasure in the little things. We went back to the house after lunch and just played. Frolicked might be a better word. We did the kind of things that families did, roughhousing, and teasing and touching. Everyone was gentle with me, but then they usually were. My more-than-human strength still no match for that of shape shifters. By the time it got dark, we were exhausted. The pard went out to the movies and I took a nap. I was going back to the Circus soon and I didn’t expect to get much sleep once I got there. Not only would I have to tell Damian and Asher, but I’d also be spending the night with Jean-Claude. In the flesh. I wasn’t sure my heart could take the real thing. Just thinking about it made things low in my belly grow tight.

I woke after a couple of hours. Just in time to heat up something for dinner. There was leftover Chinese in the fridge. I could always count on that. It was the only place willing to deliver. Cashew Chicken and Crab Rangoon. I ate, showered and dressed. I wore something I knew Jean-Claude would like, a dark sapphire sheath almost the color of his eyes with both enough fabric and high enough slits to make wearing the belly band a possibility, not to mention hiding my stomach effectively. The fact that it also plunged down my cleavage rendering a bra an impossibility, only added to its appeal. From Jean-Claude’s perspective, I mean. Hell, he bought me the damn dress. I added a gossamer navy jacket and a pair of strappy, low-heeled sandals. A little eye makeup and I was ready to go. I looked at the mirror both pleased and disconcerted. I still couldn’t believe I would dress up like this. Love definitely makes you stupid.

I didn’t tell Jean-Claude when to expect me, though I knew he felt my presence as soon as I walked in the entrance. I moved through the candle-lit halls with an ease of familiarity that bothered me when I thought about it too deeply. Jason’s door was closed but I could see a whisper of light from the bottom. I rapped and he yelled for me to come in.

He was just sort of lounging on the bed staring at the walls. I was a little surprised he wasn’t prepping for his stint at Guilty Pleasures. His eyes flicked to me and then away. “Hey, Anita, did you need something?” he asked without leering or teasing or doing any of the typical Jason things that cause me to draw my gun.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him.

That got me a look. “You’re joking right? How can you ask me what’s wrong?”

I sighed. “Jason, I told you, this wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you.”

Jason rolled over on his back. For a change, he was fully dressed in T-shirt and jeans. His bare feet hung over the side of the bed. “You may not blame me, but Richard will. And Jean-Claude does.”

“What are you talking about? Jean-Claude doesn’t blame you. He promised me that he wouldn’t,” I said. I’d be pissed if Jean-Claude went back on that promise.

“He didn’t call for me when he woke,” Jason said. The wave of depression was almost palpable.

“Jason, he doesn’t always feed on you,” I said.

“Anita, I’m his pomme de sang. If he weren’t angry with me, he would have called me. He didn’t feed on me last night. It was my turn.” There was surety in his voice but his face was incredibly castcast. I had never seen Jason like this. I’d seen him frightened, I’d seen him resigned, but I’d never seen him sad.

“He’s just being considerate,” I said.

He laughed, a harsh bark. “You don’t understand. I’ve told you that it’s amazing when he feeds. He knows that I come to him willingly. I love it when he rolls me. Anita, when Richard finds out, if he doesn’t kill me, he’ll do something worse. I’ll be an outcast in the pack. If Jean-Claude kicks me out, I’ll have nothing.” A tear fell and he wiped it from his cheek with an angry motion.

I sat on the bed and stroked his hair. “Jason, you won’t be alone. I won’t allow it.”

“Yeah, like I’m going to join your pard? I’m a werewolf, Anita, not a kitty cat. You aren’t lupa anymore. You can’t protect me in the pack, not the way you could before. But it isn’t your problem. You have enough on your plate.” I could almost see him pull himself together. “I’ll be fine.” I was being dismissed.

“Jason, you’re mine. Don’t forget that. Even more so now,” I said with complete finality. I didn’t know why Jean-Claude didn’t feed off Jason tonight but I knew it had nothing to do with him being angry. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?” I asked.

He shrugged. “It isn’t like I have done this routine before.” He took a quick peek at his watch. “I still have time.” He pillowed his arms behind his head and went back to staring at the ceiling. There was nothing I could do so I went to find Jean-Claude.

If there was ever a reason that prevented me from choosing Jean-Claude over the others, it was that he could send me from lust to rage without even being in the room. I never had bland feelings about Jean-Claude.

I knocked on Jean-Claude’s door but there was no answer. I was about to open it when I felt a presence behind me. I whirled, gun in hand. Damian put his hands up. “Damn, Damian, you should know better than to sneak up on me like that!” I said, putting the gun up.

He shrugged, not particularly apologetic. “I felt your presence. I assumed that you felt mine.”

He was right of course. If I had been paying attention, I would have felt him. Through a series of metaphysical accidents, I had bound Damian to me as my vampire servant. No one outside of Jean-Claude and his inner circle knew this. Humans just don’t have vampire servants. It’s the other way around. But Damian was mine now and I spent a lot mental energy trying not to hurt him in ignorance. I had done that once already and had no desire to repeat the experience. He had a coffin in my basement, but he was old enough to prefer the safety of the Circus. When he was at ouseouse, I felt him all the time. Now that he was in front of me, I not only felt him but I wanted to touch him. My hands, even the one with the gun, closed into fists.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I wanted to see you anyway but I got distracted.” I didn’t want to have this conversation in the hallway but I also wasn’t sure I could just appropriate Jean-Claude’s living room.

“Would you like to come into my room?” Damian asked.

I hadn’t been in Damian’s room before. I nodded before I could think better of the idea. He led me down a corridor off the main hallway. Its candle-lit sconces cast flickering amber shadows on the wall. He opened the door and motioned me inside. The room was done largely in emerald. Not the walls, which were the same pale amber as the shadows had been, but the comforter and pillows on the bed. Even the silk sheets glowed green. The furniture was mahogany. There was a bookcase filled with books on every subject but predominantly history. His own, I suspected. The room suited him.

“Sit down,” I said, even though it was his room. But I was the master here and he wouldn’t, couldn’t, think of playing dominant. He sat on the bed. I sat next to him. It was deliberate. I wanted his touch and I couldn’t wait any longer. “Hold me?” I made it a question but he took it for the command that it was. My emotions, which had been roiling under the surface, fear, excitement, and others less extreme, immediately calmed with the first touch of his fingertips against my arm. I sagged into his arms. He held me against his body. It wasn’t sexual, though of course it was; I just chose to ignore it. I welcomed the feeling of ease that trickled through my body wherever Damian touched me. He had lain back on the bed and brought me with him. We were entwined now, his legs between and around mine, my head pillowed against his chest. We stayed that way for a long time, not talking, not moving. If I hadn’t taken a nap, I would have drifted to sleep. As it was, I knew I had to get this over with. I made a motion to move and he released me immediately.

“Thank you,” I said.

He looked at me, blinking slowly, deliberately. “You are welcome,” he replied.

I curled up against the headboard. Now that I was up close and personal with it, I could see the intricate carvings inlaid in the wood. The design only went about halfway across. “Did you do this?” I asked.

He nodded. “It was something I did when I was a warrior. It passed the time. Now I do it in the evenings when I am not expected at Danse Macabre.”

I realized that it never occurred to me to wonder what Damian did when he wasn’t working. I knew he wasn’t hunting. I had forbidden him that. I wondered if being my servant held him back in other ways. “You’re very talented,” I said.

He shrugged. “I’ve had nearly 1000 years to practice. What’s wrong, Anita?”

A sudden chill had me rubbing my . I . I wanted to crawl back into his embrace, at least while I told him, but that was cowardice. “I’m pregnant,” I announced. My eyes flicked to his and then away. I didn’t want to see his reaction.

Damian didn’t say anything but he took one of my hands in his. I didn’t know how to break the silence. The headboard called to me and I traced the carving with my free hand. It was smooth to my touch. “How long will it take you to finish?” I asked as though I hadn’t just told him my secret.

“Does it matter? I have all of eternity.” He didn’t sound happy about that.

I wondered if he really did have all of eternity or whether my own death would kill him. I suppose that neither one of us wanted to deal with that issue. Now it was my turn to ask, “What’s wrong, Damian?”

He stroked my hair. “Nothing’s wrong, Anita.”

I moved so that I could face him. “Could we not go through this again? I’m ordering you to tell me what’s wrong!”

He laughed which was the more unexpected for being real. “Nothing is wrong, Anita, truly. It’s just that after so long, eternity has limited pleasures to offer. I don’t regret my life, certainly not since Jean-Claude ransomed me. I take pleasure in the skills that I honed so many centuries ago, though I have no one here to truly practice my swordsmanship with. I fear I grow rusty. May I touch you?”

It was a long speech for Damian and the non sequitur at the end threw me for a second. Then I knew what he meant. I took his hand and placed it against my stomach. He closed his eyes and was still for a long moment. He smiled and removed his hand.

“You will make a wonderful mother,” he said. I blushed, mostly because I didn’t think it was true. I could barely protect my own as it was.

There was a knock at the door and then it opened. Asher’s golden hair preceded him. I couldn’t help that my breath caught in my throat. He looked at us cozied up on the bed and raised his eyebrow. “Ma cherie, I was told you wished to speak with me,” he said.

I nodded, still incapable of speech. Between him and Jean-Claude, I was becoming insensible. Oh how the mighty continue to fall. Asher came closer to the bed and held out his hand. I took it. His hand was warm and I knew he had fed. There were always plenty of willing donors for Asher. I slid off the bed and moved into his arms. He kissed me, the merest touch of his lips on mine, but it held the promise of much more to come.

I turned back to Damian. “You’ll be all right?”

“Of course, Anita. I know you have a busy night planned and I do have to go to work,” he said.

I looked into his eyes to be sure that he meant it. I can meet his eyes not only because of my natural immunity but because he is mine. However, I couldn’t always read them. They appeared guileless. But I also knew that he wouldn’t protest. Damian had lived 1000 years under a master so brutal that he had learned to sublimate his will in order to survive. Jean-Claude had ransomed him and I was Jean-Claude’s human servant. His association with me, however involuntary, put his life at risk again. Damian deserved better than that only I couldn’t free him. Not from Jean-Claude, not from myself. I reached out and he touched my fingertips. It was enough. It had to be. I followed Asher out of the room.

Asher’s own room was done in creams and golds with splashes of bronze. It suited him and we had spent pleasurable hours in here cuddling. Both Asher and Jean-Claude had been exceptionally careful not to repeat the events of September. They didn’t want to frighten me and we had taken things slowly. I had only been with Asher again in the dreams that Jean-Claude choreographed with such intensity.

He closed the door behind us and took me in his arms again. This kiss was not gentle. His tongue explored and his lips devoured. By the time he released me, I was breathless and a little dizzy. “Asher,” I gasped, “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve missed you, ma cherie. The dreams only fueled the need.” He took my lips again. Arousal pulsed through my body. His hands were no longer idle, moving up and down my body with a possessiveness that brought an ache to my heart. My own arms were around his neck and I pressed my body against his, indulging in the feel of his excitement. I needed to share my news before this went farther. I broke the kiss intending to speak.

I opened my mouth as his fingers found me through the slit in my dress. Without further preliminaries, he thrust two fingers into me while using his thumb against my clitoris. I screamed, my world lost in an avalanche of white heat, and went limp in his arms. He withdrew and licked his fingers, slowly, erotically. My heart, which pounded hard enough that all the pulses in my body were visibly pumping, skipped a few beats. He lifted me and placed me on the bedspread. My breathing was labored. Asher crawled up on the bed next to me and was leaning over me, his leg entwined with mine, his arms braced on either side of my chest. His gaze was hot against my skin. I shivered. It took me two tries to find my voice. “Asher, I’m pregnant,” I blurted.

He stopped in mid movement. “What did you say, ma cherie?” he asked, but it was clear that he had heard me. He had been in the process of lowering his body to mine, but instead moved his hand to my stomach and went very still. “How is this possible?” he asked.

“Jason,” I said simply.

He kissed me again, but this kiss held love, not lust. The difference was subtle but there nonetheless. “You will be stunning when you are ripe with child, ma cherie. You already glow.” I didn’t understand the look in his eyes. It was almost pain. He hadn’t moved away from me, but neither had he moved closer.

“What’s wrong, Asher?” It sounded like a theme. Were none of us “right” these days? I brushed my hand through his golden hair.

“Julianna wanted to have a child. My child. Of course that was impossible, but she longed for the experience. She, too, would have looked ravishing. If there had been a human that she fancied, I would have encouraged her. I wanted to see her flush with life. Perhaps if she had lived, if this,” he waved his hand down his side, “had not happened, who knows? To have the experience now, even though you are Jean-Claude’s and not mine, is bittersweet.”

I didn’t know what to say. He never spoke of Julianna, not if he could avoid it. “I’m sorry” seemed inadequate. The fact that I never wanted this pregnancy sounded almost hurtful in light of this revelation. I stayed silent, never a bad choice on my part, and pulled his face down to mine for another kiss. This time I was the aggressor. I wanted to chase the sad memories from his face and replace them with what? Lust? Was I ready for this? Having his hands on me was almost too much but I knew if I stopped, it would hurt him. My lips touched his and his mouth opened. I took advantage and thrust my tongue inside while rubbing my body against his. I never heard the door open.

“I see you have started without me, ma petite.”
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Consequences