DEV KISSED ME gently, his fingers tracing my bare shoulder in delicate, skin-tingling lines while his other hand cupped the side of my face until his fingers slid into my thick curls. He let out a sigh of contentment against my lips and as if that had been a key to the door; my mouth opened to him in invitation and he stepped gently through, teasing and exploring with his tongue, instead of the forced thrust he could have had. I was open to either, but a part of me relaxed into his kiss and into his hands as they caressed across my bare back until the dress’s rough beads got in the way and I wished it gone so I could feel his hands all over my bare skin.
He knew what I wanted, because without pausing the kiss, his hands slid to the hem of my dress and pulled it up and over my right arm, but he couldn’t finish without breaking the kiss or moving Jean-Claude’s hand from mine. Then I realized that Richard wasn’t touching me but the energy hadn’t gone down, and nothing was trying to intrude on our energy. I was so startled that I pulled back from the kiss and the energy fell like a bird whose wings had been clipped.
Dev touched my face and our energy soared again. Richard grabbed my arm but the energy had already stabilized. Dev stared down at me, his eyes a little wide. I realized that I was standing naked in the hallway with the dress bunched on the one arm that Jean-Claude was still holding, in my work boots. I had totally forgotten that there were people in the hallway who weren’t my lovers, or hell, that there were people in the hallway besides the five of us.
“What just happened?” Richard asked.
“Let go of ma petite, for a moment.”
“Which one?” I asked.
“Richard,” Jean-Claude said.
“You want me to let go of her?”
“Oui.”
“But . . .”
“Mon lupe, the night will fade, please do not make me ask twice.”
Richard looked from him to me. He widened his eyes and I knew the look meant was I okay with this. Not from our metaphysical connection, but because once upon a time I’d memorized most of his expressions, because we were in love and I’d thought he was the one.
I nodded.
He let go of my arm, and the energy just kept humming without him; interesting. I glanced over and realized that Angel and Jean-Claude were holding hands. “Did I miss you kissing each other?”
“Non, ma petite, the moment you touched our Devil the energy drew both Angel and me to pay attention to it.”
“Can you sense her golden tiger as you sensed lion earlier?” Jake asked.
“I can.”
“Let go and see what happens,” I said; Jean-Claude knew what I meant and simply dropped my hand. My energy stayed the same, but his didn’t. His legs buckled and Angel and Richard had to catch him to keep him standing. He reached his hand for me, and I took it. He stood and blinked at me.
“I do not understand,” he said.
“Anita has the fourth mark with Mephistopheles,” Jake said.
“Dev is a werelion and a weretiger, maybe you need both,” Nicky said.
“Come to me, my Devil, let us embrace.”
Dev kept one hand in mine but went to Jean-Claude. Angel moved so that Dev could wrap an arm around the vampire. Jean-Claude leaned his face toward him. “Richard, let go, please.”
Richard hesitated, but then stepped back so it was just the two of us with Dev. The energy did not fall. Jean-Claude asked the tall weretiger to kiss him. He leaned in and the moment of the kiss the power washed around us, playing in our hair. Dev was my gold tiger so it should have been my power, but it was Jean-Claude’s.
“Is it lion or tiger that calls to you, my king?” Jake asked.
Jean-Claude pulled back and said, “Gold, it is gold tiger.”
“I’ve given him the fourth mark, how is there any room for Jean-Claude?” I asked.
“You are not a vampire,” Jake said.
“It is as if Mephistopheles is waiting for me to finish . . . it,” Jean-Claude said, but not like he was sure.
“Nothing personal, but if we only have time to finish one fourth mark tonight, it’s me, us,” Richard said.
Dev looked at him and growled. I’d gotten used to hearing animal sounds coming out of human throats, but Dev was one of the least likely to fight for dominance. He was very much go along to get along, but I guess everyone has their line in the sand.
“There is a way to finish both marks before dawn,” Jake said.
Jean-Claude shook his head. “We cannot use the ardeur to speed things up, Jake. I must be in control, and using the ardeur will strip me of that, along with ma petite and Richard.”
“The fourth mark doesn’t have to be sex,” Jake said.
“For Belle’s bloodline it must be.”
“But you are your own bloodline now, Jean-Claude, you do not have to do things as your old mistress taught you.”
“I . . . I do not know how to do it without. Belle said that a sexual exchange was the fourth mark because blood was done at the third mark.”
“It doesn’t even have to be blood, you only need to exchange body fluid while the master vampire says the words; if the words were not needed, a kiss and an exchange of saliva would be enough,” Jake said.
“When I marked Damian and Nathaniel it was sex and blood, because it’s hard to take blood from two people at once.”
“True, it is traditionally done one at a time, either beast or servant first,” Jake said.
I remembered a vampire who had done the fourth mark with me, it hadn’t been sexual at all. I’d killed that vampire knowing I’d probably die with him rather than letting him control me forever. Now here I was volunteering for it, but I was in love with this vampire. The other one years ago had taken by force what I was offering freely. Sex and magic is like that; force and free will make all the difference. “It won’t be as fun sharing just blood, but if Jean-Claude cuts himself twice, then Richard and I can both take his blood into us while he says the words over us.”
Jean-Claude looked up at the ceiling, but I knew he was looking further than that, he was sensing all the way up to the sky. Night was losing its strength. Whatever we were going to do, we needed to do it now.
Dev looked from one to the other of us. “We’re all out of time for anything but a quickie.”
“I just got back to them, I won’t give up my place to you, or anyone else,” Richard said.
“Then you shall be first,” Jean-Claude said.
Dev growled again, but Jean-Claude turned to Dev and put a gentle kiss on the side of his cheek. “I will mark you this night, my Devil, have no fear that I will leave such bounty untouched.”
Angel pulled his arm and drew him away from Jean-Claude so that Richard and I were left standing with him. I heard her murmur “You’re next.”
He said, “I’m tired of being everyone’s second and no one’s first.”
I might have gotten distracted, but Jean-Claude let go of me to spill the dress down my arm. I would have rather gotten dressed again, but dawn was trembling close. Modesty could wait—they were all shapeshifters and nudity didn’t mean to them what it meant in human society. Jean-Claude took us to the wall so he could sit down. “You will have to kneel or lie on the floor to reach the traditional cuts. I would have done this in our bed in comfort if there were more time.”
“I thought you didn’t know where the traditional cuts for the fourth mark were supposed to be,” Rodina said.
“I have seen other bloodlines do it; I still do not know if it will work for us, but there is no time. I need a blade.”
“I don’t have one on me for once,” I said.
“We can see you are unarmed,” Rodina said, and made it disdainful. I ignored her, because arguing with her would take too much precious time.
Ethan drew the Emerson folding blade from his pocket, the quick release hooking on the edge of the cloth like it was supposed to, so that it was straight and locked in place when he offered it handle first to Jean-Claude. I’d given him the knife one of the first Christmases he’d been with us because he’d admired the one I had. I vowed to not be the one without a blade next time.
Jean-Claude settled his back against the wall, then took the offered knife. He set the tip near the burn scar on his chest where some human long ago had tried their best to save their life and failed. Once I’d been in sympathy with them; now I was just glad he hadn’t died centuries before I could have met him. “Does it have to be on the left side?” he asked, looking past us kneeling to Jake.
“No, anywhere on the chest, or even the wrist.”
Jean-Claude moved the knife higher on his chest to leave the burn scar untouched. He drew the tip of the blade high on his left pectoral, leaving a thin red line behind on his pale, white skin. He raised the knife, then moved to the right side and mirrored the cut. The left side had started to bleed down his chest by the time he was finished with the right. He handed the bloody knife back to Ethan with a thank-you. Ethan wiped it clean on the side of his pants, then put it back in his pocket. “It’s my honor to serve.”
“Come, my loves, take of my blood while I say the words over us,” Jean-Claude said, reaching his arms out to us.
I hesitated for a second, watching the bright blood flow down his chest; I wasn’t really a fan of drinking blood unless one of the supernatural hungers had gotten triggered. “I will not force this upon you, ma petite, it must be willing or not at all.”
“I’m willing,” Richard said, and moved forward, lowering himself over the wound on his side. I couldn’t let him be braver than I was about something we’d both fought against for years, so I put my hand against Jean-Claude’s stomach to steady myself, then licked the wound.
Jean-Claude made a small pleasure sound and I realized that Richard was licking the wound on his side, too. I glanced at Richard—we were so close that our hair had intermingled, black curls to brown waves. He leaned slightly to me and I met his lips for a kiss, sharing the blood between us, and got a hint of his eagerness and how differently a werewolf looked at blood than I did. It helped me turn back to the wound on Jean-Claude’s chest, eager to latch my mouth over the wound and suck, sweet copper pennies on my tongue.
Jean-Claude stroked our hair and said the words. “Blood of my blood,” and the air tightened around us, thick with power; “flesh of my flesh,” and magic danced down our bodies; “the three shall be as one,” and it was almost too much, as if someone was trailing electricity down us with a violet wand set a little high so that I wasn’t sure if it felt wonderful or hurt. He put his hands in our hair and pulled us back from his chest. “Breath,” he said, kissing me, “to breath,” he said, kissing Richard. He cuddled us in his arms, our heads on his chest, and said, “My heart to yours.”
The power ruffled around us, playing in our hair, tugging at Richard’s shirt and Jean-Claude’s robe. It rose around us and moved through the hallway like invisible hands stirring anything that would move on anyone. “There will be other nights for sex, but only one night for this, my loves, a triumvirate in truth at last.”