"Laurell K. Hamilton - Anita Blake 08 - Blue Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Laurell K)

him. When I was with him, my stomach dropped to my feet and I had to fight
very hard not to say things like golly.
I settled for "You look spectacular, as always. What are you doing here on
a night that I told you not to come?" What I wanted to do was to throw myself
around him like a coat and have him carry me over the threshold clinging to
him like a monkey. But I wasn't going to do that. It lacked a certain dignity.
Besides, it sort of scared me how much I wanted him -тАУ and how often. He was
like a new drug. It wasn't vampire powers. It was good, old-fashioned lust.
But it was still scary, so I had set up some parameters. Rules. He followed
them most of the time.
He smiled, and it was the smile I'd grown to both love and dread. The smile
said he was thinking wicked thoughts, things that two or more could do in
darkened rooms, where the sheets smelled of expensive perfume, sweat, and
other bodily fluids. The smile had never made me blush until we started having
sex. Sometimes all he had to do was smile, and heat rushed up my skin like I
was thirteen and he was my first crush. He thought it was charming. It
embarrassed me.
"You son of a bitch," I said softly.
The smile widened. "Our dream was interrupted, ma petite."
"I knew it wasn't an accident that you were in my dreams," I said. It came
out hostile, and I was pleased. Because the hot summer wind was blowing the
scent of his cologne against my face. Exotic, with an undercurrent of flowers
and spice. I almost hated to wash my sheets for fear of losing the scent of
him sometimes.
"I asked you to wear my gift so I could dream of you. You knew what I meant
to do. If you say other, then you are lying. May I come in?"
He'd been invited in often enough that he could have crossed my threshold
without the invitation, but it had become a game with him. A formal
acknowledgment every time he crossed that I wanted him. It irritated me and
pleased me, like so much about Jean-Claude.
"You might as well come in."
He walked past me. I noticed the black boots were laced up the back from
heel to top. The back of his black jeans fit smooth and tight so there was no
need to guess what he wasn't wearing under them.
He spoke without turning around. "Do not sound so grumpy, ma petite. You
have the ability to bar me from your dreams." He turned then, and his eyes
were full of a dark light that had nothing to do with vampire powers. "You
welcomed me with more than open arms."
I blushed for the second time in less than five minutes. "Richard is in
jail in Tennessee," I said.
"I know," he said.
"You know?" I said. "How?"
"The local Master of the City called to tell me. He was very much afraid
that I would think it was his doing. His way of destroying our triumvirate."
"If he was going to destroy us, it would be a murder charge, not attempted
rape," I said.
"True," Jean-Claude said, then laughed. The laughter trailed over my bare
skin like a small, private wind. "Whoever framed our Richard did not know him
well. I would believe murder of Richard before rape."
It was almost exactly what I'd said. Why was that unnerving? "Are you going