Crimson Death by Laurell K. Hamilton Page A

at the door with Ricky and Roger parting the way, so I was in the doorway with them behind me, between me and Cardinale, the possible threat, like good bodyguards.
    I was really hoping that Damian would let me get out of the room before he answered her, but I knew . . . hell, I could feel that he’d reached a level of anger with the situation where he wanted it to blow up, to be done. I could feel his loneliness now; whereas before he just told me he was lonely, now I felt it. Loneliness, anger, frustration, and . . . need. A need beyond sex, or blood, or even love; there were so many reasons I shielded around Damian. Shit.
    â€œI’ve already asked Anita to be my lover again, and if sleeping with her and Nathaniel will stop these nightmares, then I’ll do that, too.”
    I hesitated between one step and another, then kept going. I wanted out of the room, out of the mess, out of their relationship, but more than that, I wanted away from Damian’s emotions before he dragged me further into whatever was happening between them.
    Cardinale yelled after me, and the door was open so some of the customers would likely hear it. “Are you and Nathaniel both going to fuck him now?”
    Ricky and Roger had closed in behind me like a movable wall of security. I stopped walking so abruptly that Roger almost ran into me, but Ricky said, “Don’t do it, boss.”
    â€œDo what?” Roger asked.
    â€œJust walk away, boss,” Ricky said.
    Cardinale screamed, “Are you that much better in bed, Anita? Is that it? Is that why everyone wants you, because you just fuck so good?”
    â€œShit,” Ricky said, softly under his breath.
    Even Roger had caught up, because his eyes were wide and he asked, “Can we shoot her, or do we have to do nonlethal?”
    â€œNonlethal if you can,” I said, and turned around to look back into the room. Cardinale’s eyes were starting to gleam the way jewels do when light comes in behind them. My cross wasn’t glowing yet because it might just be her anger showing. Damian stood by his desk, his pale upper body still smooth and bare with his long hair falling straight and crimson around all that white skin. Our eyes met, and the marks between us let me feel the defeat in him. He didn’t know what to do with Cardinale anymore; it wasn’t that he didn’t love her, because he did, but he wasn’t “in love” with her anymore, because she’d beaten that out of him with the constant jealousy, the recriminations, the accusations, and the lack of faith in him and their love.
    Out loud I said, “What do you want me to do, Damian?” I felt so many emotions from him and knew he was deeply conflicted. Part of him would be relieved if it were over between them, but part of me—I mean, him—would miss her and what they had together. I looked at the tall woman standing there with her amazing cheekbones, knowing it wasn’t from dieting but from starving most of her human life. She’d come to being a vampire partly so she’d never be hungry again and because she was beautiful enough for the Master of London to want her in his bed forever. But he’d never made her feel secure; she was just one lover among many. He’d never promised her otherwise, but she’d done the same thing to him she was doing to Damian, so that in the end, no matter how lovely she was to look at, the sex wasn’t worth the emotional blowups. Damian knew all that about her, so suddenly, so did I. There was a long list of bad boyfriends in her human past who had taught her she was okay for a lark, a week, a month, months, but eventually there’d be someone else who caught their eye.
    â€œDamian isn’t like that.” I said it out loud and hadn’t meant to.
    â€œHe isn’t like what?” Cardinale asked.
    â€œHe has been as loyal and faithful to you as any man could be to a