Jean-Claude made as if to reach out to the other man, and then let his hand fall back. “We did not mean to hurt you.”

“You never mean to hurt me, Jean-Claude, but you do seem to keep doing it.” He turned back to us. “What does Micah deny you, Nathaniel? What do you want him to do that he will not?”

Nathaniel looked at Micah, who just nodded. No one looked at me; in that moment it was just the men. “I’d like him to go down on me and do me by hand.”

“You are denied everything I am denied; how can you be happy?”

“I just am,” Nathaniel said.

“He’s not denied everything,” Micah said.

“I have heard the truth,” Asher said.

That first roll of power trickled off of Micah’s skin. His beast peeking out with his anger. “He said he wanted me to go down on him and do him by hand.”

“Exactement.”

“You only hear what you want to hear tonight, Asher. Let’s just say I can prove that Nathaniel really does have absolutely no gag reflex.”

There was a moment of thunderous silence. Micah glared at Asher. Nathaniel looked pleased and tried not to. I had no safe place to look and no idea what expression to wear.

“Was Anita with you?” Jean-Claude asked.

“Yes,” Micah said.

“Ma petite.”

I didn’t want to look at him.

“Ma petite, look at me.”

I’ve turned and faced men with guns when it took less courage than to meet Jean-Claude’s eyes in that moment. “This is a recent change?”

I nodded.

“What did you think? How did you feel about it?”

I so did not want to discuss this in front of people, but damn it, if I was really all right with it, why was it embarrassing? Damn it. “Without the ardeur I have a gag reflex, and Micah . . .”

“Is bien outillé, well hung, oui,” Jean-Claude said.

“Yes, so one afternoon we took turns going down on Micah.” I said it fast as if that made it sound more ladylike, but some things just aren’t ladylike and sucking a man’s dick is one of them. I loved doing it, but . . . Oh, hell. I was blushing so hard I was light-headed. I thought I’d stopped blushing like that, damn it.

Micah and Nathaniel each touched an arm, which meant I looked as shaky as I felt.

“And have you done it since?” Jean-Claude asked.

I swallowed and concentrated. I would not faint. I never fainted. Fuck. I kept a good hold on both their arms and said, “Not the taking turns part, but Nathaniel going down on Micah, yes.”

“And you are all right with it?”

“Jesus, Jean-Claude, I’m not the small-town virgin that you found years ago. Give me some credit for being a little more open-minded. The three of us have shared a bed for over two years.”

“You are right, ma petite; I remembered you as of old and didn’t trust you.”

“So, you would be all right with Jean-Claude and me being lovers.”

“Yes.”

“Would you be all right in bed with us while we touched?” Jean-Claude asked.

“Depends on the touch, but I like men. When you and I did Augustine together, I learned I liked seeing men kiss each other, and I love watching Nathaniel and Micah together. I love . . . Look, don’t blame this mess on me. I didn’t keep you from Asher; you decided that on your own.”

“I thought it was you I was protecting, but Asher is right, it was me.” He looked at the other man. “You almost consumed me once before Julianna. It wasn’t that you were a man that had made me withdraw, it was that your power works on vampires, too. You were very close to making me your slave, and if I wasn’t willing to be Belle Morte’s slave, then I wouldn’t be yours.”

“So another man brought in would have worked as well?” Asher asked.

Jean-Claude smiled and shook his head. “No, you chose well for my heart. Julianna was everything I could have dreamed of in a woman at that time.”

“You don’t have to add the at that time for my benefit, Jean-Claude. I know you loved her; hell, I’ve felt the memories.”

“The person who loved Julianna died when she died.”

“We all died that day,” Asher said.

“Yes,” Jean-Claude said.

The silence sat for a minute full of old sorrow and older loss. Then Micah said, “But if Anita were with you, would you want to be Asher’s lover?”

Jean-Claude looked at Micah, then at me, and finally he looked directly across the room at Asher. “Yes.”

“Just empty words,” Asher said, “to save your hyenas and your power base.”

Jean-Claude stood up and held his hand out to me. “Ma petite.” I admit I hesitated, but I went and took his hand. Then Jean-Claude turned and held out his hand to the other vampire.

Asher said, “You mean now?”

“You say words are empty. Let me show you actions.”

I looked from one to the other of them, and fought a sudden panicking feeling in my stomach. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but it was all moving a little too fast for me and I had a niggling feeling that I was missing something.

Asher stood up. The werehyenas behind him asked, “What do you want us to do?”

“Whatever you were doing. Do your jobs.” He went to Jean-Claude’s outstretched hand without a backward glance at the two shapeshifters, and that was why Asher would probably never have his own territory. It wasn’t lack of power, but lack of wanting power. He would always let his heart overrule his head, and Masters of the City don’t survive long making decisions like that.

Jean-Claude led us toward the curtains. The guards standing there scattered as if we’d shouted Boo. Jason was on the other side of them. He raised eyebrows, and just his expression let me know he’d heard and knew what was happening. I reached out my free hand and he gave me his. The moment I touched him his power flared over me like heat in a summer meadow. It felt so good, and then I smelled trees, leaves, forest, and I knew that there were more wolves just outside the big dungeon door.

Jean-Claude, Jason, and I all turned toward the far curtains as Jamil and Shang-Da swept through them. They were both tall and muscular, Jamil with his long cornrows and tailored suit, Shang-Da the tallest Chinese man I’d ever met, hair cut skater straight, his black trench coat flaring around him showing glimpses of the guns underneath. The moment I saw both of them I knew who was coming next, and there he was, Richard, our Ulfric, our wolf king. He was dressed in blue jeans with a leather and denim jacket open over a bloodred T-shirt. His shoulder-length hair fell in foaming waves, a brown shot full of gold and red highlights. He swept in with his guards on either side, and it was like my heart stopped for a moment. Nothing would ever make Richard less than handsome, from the short brown boots peeking out from the jeans to the poured-on jeans and everything I knew lay in them, to the upper body that he’d hit the gym hard enough to make even wider, even more impressive, and then the face. Once I’d thought I’d marry him, and even now my heart and libido leapt up, but my mind went, No, whatever he wants, no. Once it goes to hell, no one can cut you up like the love of your life. Fuck.