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The night started innocently enough. Or not. Looking back now, Jean-Claude realized there had been nothing innocent about it since he’d first opened his eyes.

*****

Upon waking, Jean-Claude’s mind zeroed in on the warm weight pressed tightly against his bare back. The heat radiating from it was so intense, at first it felt uncomfortable next to his cold skin. He shifted slightly. The body next to him stirred as well and another revelation struck. The body belonged to a woman. Not only was she incredibly warm and soft and well-endowed, she was completely naked beneath his sheets.

Knowingly, Jean-Claude smiled ear to ear. Anita must have missed him so much she returned from her trip to Michigan after only a few days away. To surprise him, she must have crawled into his bed while he and Asher slept and wedged herself between them. For a moment it all seemed too good to be true. He could think of no other way he’d rather wake at night than to find Anita curled around him, all warm and willing in his bed. Perhaps the saying was true. Absence does make the heart grow fonder.

Closing his eyes briefly, the master vampire whispered a breathless “thank you” to whatever deity was responsible for fulfilling his waking dream, and then he rolled over, simultaneously reaching out for his lover, ready to devour her in more ways than one.

But the unnaturally red hair fanning around the unfamiliar face of a startlingly blue-eyed beauty shocked Jean-Claude into completely immobility. His eyes widened in disbelief as his mind scrambled to re-evaluate what had really happened sometime during the course of the day.

After a few moments, Jean-Claude realized he couldn’t even begin to fathom why or how this strange woman came to be lying next to him in bed. He sat up abruptly, his slippery silk sheet pooling around his loins making him aware of his own nudity. He opened his mouth to speak, tucking the glossy fabric tightly around his hips, but the woman smiled brightly and spoke first.

“Hello Master,” she said in a sultry, whiskey voice.

Jean-Claude raised his brow, intrigued. “…Master?” No one addressed him formerly like that. When they did, it always took him by surprise. He peered into the woman’s eyes curiously and knew at once, this was no ordinary woman. There was a power about her. It wasn’t immediately noticeable because it wasn’t very strong, but Jean-Claude sensed it now. It explained a lot. She was a lycanthrope.

“Or would you prefer I call you simply Jean-Claude?” the woman responded. “Jason told me you weren’t really into titles. Especially from people you’re intimate with.”

Her insinuating phrasing pricked Jean-Claude’s self-consciousness again. He scooted away from the woman to the edge of the mattress, trying to keep the sheets around him without pulling them any further off of her.

“Who--?” Jean-Claude began to ask, but his question was choked off when the lycanthrope slid across the mattress after him.

“I’m Paris. I’m going to be your pomme de sang while Jason is gone. You asked Richard to send you someone and I volunteered. I was honored to.”

Jean-Claude closed his eyes, mentally swearing at the Ulfric and his pettiness. Yes, Jean-Claude had approached him asking if there was anyone in the pack willing to step in for Jason while the young wolf accompanied Anita across state lines. After all, Jean-Claude’s “court” had increased and there were more vampires to feed. It seemed only right to provide them with a substitute pomme for the two and a half weeks Jason would be away instead of sending them out onto the streets every night. No, Jean-Claude had not specified a male substitute, but Richard should have known. The Ulfric knew Anita as well as anyone. She wouldn’t stand for this. Not in the least.

What was worse was perhaps finding out Jason apparently knew Paris was replacing him. He had clearly spoken with her before his departure. Yet he hadn’t thought to mention her to Jean-Claude? Surely he knew the mischief this would cause. Jean-Claude felt betrayed by Jason’s inappropriate discretion. The master vampire made a mental note to have words with his pomme de sang upon his return.

Paris placed her hand on Jean-Claude’s shoulder and rubbed her cheek along his arm like an overly affectionate cat. It pulled the vampire out of his thoughts and back to the here and now.

“I’m ready whenever you are, Master,” Paris cooed, pushing her hair from the side of her neck. “As a matter of fact, I’m looking forward to this.” Her eyes glinted up at Jean-Claude with pure raw seduction.

“I am not ready,” Jean-Claude stated flatly, pulling away from the ardent werewolf. “I have to bathe first.” It was all he could think of that sounded even remotely plausible. He was off the bed now, but still trapped beside it because of the sheet around his hips.

Undaunted, Paris rose from the bed in all her naked glory and sidled up to Jean-Claude. She brazenly wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest.

“Of course. Jason told me you were fastidious about cleanliness,” she said with a smile. “For a Frenchman.” She giggled.

Jean-Claude peeled her off of him and sat her back on the bed, covering her with the corner of the sheet as much as he could.

“Wait here,” the vampire replied through slightly clenched teeth. Yes, he and Jason would definitely have words.

He turned towards the master bathroom and thought wistfully of his robe hanging on the back of the door. Frowning, Jean-Claude briefly contemplated taking the sheet with him into the bathroom, but then he peered across the bed at Asher who had yet to wake. Jean-Claude knew that underneath the sheet, Asher was also naked. If he took the sheet with him, he’d leave Asher completely exposed and his friend was much too self-conscious to appreciate that considering there was a strange naked woman in the room.

Jean-Claude sighed heavily in frustration. He could send Paris to fetch his robe, but he was certain he didn’t want to have to watch her sashay across the room. His hungers were burning his insides as it was, twisting his needs into a physical ache. After all, he hadn’t fed since Jason left, choosing to offer his remaining blood sources to his Kiss instead. But now, he was feeling his deprivation keenly. If the circumstances were at all different, Jason’s substitute couldn’t have come at a better time. No, he definitely did not want her to move.

Dragging his hand through his hair in resignation, Jean-Claude released the sheet and let it slip from his body, fully aware he‘d be giving the werewolf a completely un-obscured view of himself by doing so.

As expected, Paris’ big blue eyes widened and a sly grin turned up the corners of her bright red mouth in apparent appreciation. Despite her attempt to be subtle, Jean-Claude had been appraised before by beings far less transparent than Paris and he could well decipher the eager hunger in her modest expression. However, her lust empowered him to a degree of nonchalance. For a moment, he stood before her, feeding from the glazed look in her eyes, then he gestured at Asher, still in the grip of death’s sleep.

“You are not to touch him,” Jean-Claude ordered. “Do you understand?”

The light in Paris’ eyes dimmed slightly. She nodded readily.

Jean-Claude turned on his heel and stalked out of the bedroom, consciously trying to alter his normally suggestive gait into something more mechanical, but he could still feel the weight of her gaze follow him all the way to the bathroom.

*****

Jean-Claude was tying up the collar of his shirt when Asher all but blew through the dressing room door, looking both agitated and flustered. He was clutching the thick lapels of his robe around his throat with misplaced modesty. He darted several quick glances behind him as if he feared pursuit, but then his lightening-blue eyes fixed on Jean-Claude.

“Who is that?” he demanded, flinging an arm in the general direction of the bedroom from which he‘d obviously just fled.

“That,” Jean-Claude began, pulling on a jacket, “belongs to Monsieur Zeeman. That was his idea of a substitute for Jason. Her name is Paris.”

Asher turned and faced the bedroom again as if he could see through the walls at the contents within. “She was in the bed with me when I woke.”

Jean-Claude frowned slightly. “I told her not to touch you. Did she?”

With a subtle shrug, Asher focused his attention back on Jean-Claude. “It wouldn’t have mattered if she had. I only now just woke. Her presence alone was violation enough.”

“I am sorry, mon ami. I should have removed her to another room. I wasn’t thinking.”

Asher nodded, seemingly becoming aware that Jean-Claude had suffered the same fate earlier and had been equally put off by it. “It is just that, if I’m going to be violated, I would rather be aware of it.” He relaxed his grip on the neckline of his robe and leaned against the doorframe. Lowering his voice, Asher’s eyes took on an interested gleam. “What are you going to do about her?”

“Do?” Jean-Claude asked in surprise. To him the answer should have been obvious. “I’m returning her to Richard. What other option do I have?”

Asher crossed his arms over his chest. “On what grounds? He‘ll want to know.”

Jean-Claude stared up at Asher accusingly. “How can you ask that? We cannot keep her. We cannot use her. It is out of the question.”

Sighing softly, Asher reached over and brushed his hand over Jean-Claude’s shoulder as if to dust him off. “What are you going to tell her?”

“Her? Who?” Of course Asher would be concerned about Anita finding out about this as much as he was.

“Paris, mon ami,” Asher clarified. “She will think she did something wrong, and if you return her to Richard you will not only be rejecting her, you will more than likely disgrace her in the eyes of her pack. Play your politics, Jean-Claude. There is a right way and a wrong way to resolve this…situation.”

Jean-Claude closed his eyes momentarily. Asher was right. Returning Paris to Richard without due cause would be politically incorrect and even though Jean-Claude believed risking Anita’s wrath was cause enough not to use Paris, deep down, he knew such an excuse would be unacceptable in the eyes of the lukoi. Surely Richard knew this. He knew Jean-Claude wouldn’t be able to accept Paris’ services and surely he knew there’d be nothing Jean-Claude could do about it.

“Richard is up to his old tricks,” the master vampire grumbled, growling the Ulfric’s name.

He should have seen something like this coming. Even on the night Anita had taken them both into her bed, Richard had been petty and possessive, refusing to let Jean-Claude feed from him.

For an instant, Jean-Claude felt trapped and defeated. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly through his teeth, and then he faced Asher with newfound resolve. “I simply will not play into this. This has nothing to do with protocol and procedure. He knows this as well as I do.”

Asher’s hand went to Jean-Claude’s face. He cupped his chin in his palm, smoothing the pad of his thumb across Jean-Claude’s cheek. “I wish you well then,” he offered.

“Merci,” Jean-Claude whispered. “I shall return within the hour.”

Asher dropped his hand and turned to leave, but then stopped before stepping outside the room. “In the meantime, mon ami, what do you propose we do?”

Jean-Claude raised his brow inquiringly. “Do?”

“For blood.” Asher licked his lips at the thought.

Jean-Claude’s eyes widened slightly. “I hope you are not suggesting--”

Now Asher looked frustrated. “Why not? She is already here. And willing…. And she has already seen me.” He gestured down the length of his body with his hand clearly implying Paris had gotten an eyeful of Asher earlier as well. “I don’t think she would mind if I fed from her.”

Shaking his head, Jean-Claude put his hands on his hips. “I understand your reasoning, but I cannot permit it.”

Asher scowled at his friend. “Two states away and Anita’s misgivings still intimidate you as if they were the written law,” he said, tossing his long blonde hair over his shoulder with a petulant jerk of his head. “Anita would understand our predicament. She has the same needs we have.”

Jean-Claude narrowed his eyes and peered down his nose at Asher. “My devotion to Anita is not from intimidation, Asher. It stems from love. I will not betray her trust in me over something like this. It took me too long to earn it.”

Asher appeared unfazed by Jean-Claude’s argument. “Something like this? You say that as if seeking sustenance to survive and thrive be a trivial thing. Perhaps our fair Anita prefers us withered and starved to engaging in necessary infidelity. Mon dieu, Jean-Claude, it‘s not as though we are being promiscuous in her absence. We need blood.”

For a moment, Jean-Claude considered it. If Asher wished to use Paris, why shouldn’t he? In all truth, the matter of Asher’s monogamy had never come up in conversation. There was no reason to assume Anita required such a thing from him just because they had become intimate. She certainly didn’t require such exclusivity from Richard, and Jean-Claude was well aware she was intimate with him again. Then, maybe none of this had anything to do with being monogamous. Asher was right. This was just about feeding.

“Very well,” Jean-Claude announced with a certainty that he didn’t quite feel. “Do what you will. There is no reason to deny you her services.” He put his hand over his empty stomach and frowned.

Asher offered Jean-Claude a slight bow and slipped out of the dressing room.

Jean-Claude sat down on the bench in front of his wardrobe to wait. Inside his mind brimmed with a touch of the old jealousy as he pondered Anita’s on again, off again relationship with Richard Zeeman. Anita had always treated Richard differently from him. Richard was given his own set of her rules from the beginning and Anita always seemed to tolerate a lot more of the Ulfric‘s shortcomings than she did of Jean-Claude‘s. Jean-Claude existed night after night with the fear of making even one mistake--as it seemed only one mistake would be enough to justify Anita leaving him.

Sighing, Jean-Claude realized he was being juvenile indulging in such thoughts. In time, he had been amply rewarded for his unwavering devotion, and Anita’s love had grown for him over the course of the years. Jean-Claude did not doubt that Anita loved Richard too, but he also knew her feelings for the Ulfric did not compare to her feelings for him. At least he hoped they did not.

Still the doubt lingers, Jean-Claude realized distastefully. He rose from the bench and paced the length of the dressing room. He liked to think he and Anita had reached the point where one mistake wouldn’t mean the end of the love they shared. In an emotional sense anyway, as despite everything, they were forever metaphysically bound by the marks. But in the end, he truly could not be sure.

That settled it. The woman was going back to Richard, political protocol be damned. Jean-Claude was not going to let the Ulfric win this round. Causing friction between the vampire and Anita was surely Richard’s motivation in this and Jean-Claude decided he’d rather starve himself than give Richard what he wanted.

Jean-Claude peered in the direction of the bedroom. Surely Asher had had his fill by now. Opening the door slowly, the master vampire looked out, cocking his head to hear any telltale sounds. There was nothing.

Coming into the bedroom however, Jean-Claude found Asher still engaged in feeding, his long nude body draped over the woman’s across the bed. His face was buried in her neck, veiled by his hair and hers, their curls tangled in much the same way their bodies were. Her legs were entwined tightly around Asher’s thighs and her hands roved the small of his back with apparent blissful abandon. Her breathing was forcefully audible and erotically toned, and when Asher pushed his hips against her, he elicited the occasional throaty moan from her as well.

The sight stopped Jean-Claude in his tracks and the ardeur flared inside him with an intensity he hadn’t felt in a very long time. It told him he needed to feed both his hungers soon or his control would only worsen. For now, the hunger pangs were still manageable and he tamped them down with a fierce determination.

Asher raised his head as Jean-Claude drew near. He glanced up at him and passed his tongue over his teeth to clean the blood from them. “Five more minutes, I promise.”

“Did you take her mind?“ Jean-Claude asked and frowned, fighting off the distraction of Asher’s pumping hips. To Jean-Claude’s knowledge, no other woman besides Anita had ever given herself willingly to Asher since he had been tortured. If Asher had be-spelled Paris, she would need time to recover, which would only delay things further. On the other hand… “Is this without her conscious consent?”

Asher flashed him another smile. “She was lying on the bed, beckoning to me, with her legs wide open.” He paused and shook his head. “If that is not consent enough for a man, then I don’t know what is.”

At that very moment, Paris climaxed, her body spasming wildly beneath Asher, her pants of pleasure reverberating throughout the bedroom and echoing in Jean-Claude’s mind long after she quieted. In seconds she drifted off to sleep, a genuinely happy smile fixed on her flushed face.

Once satiated as well, Asher rolled off the werewolf with a contented moan. “I am sorry, mon ami,” he panted. “I saw her there and I just had to have her. Merde, I don’t know what came over me.“

Jean-Claude subtly averted his eyes from Asher‘s nudity to the woman beside him spread-eagled on the bed. “I can think of a few things…. Help me get her dressed,” the master vampire began, resorting to closing his eyes to keep the images of Asher’s rose-tinged skin out of his mind. He could just imagine how warm he must be to the touch now. He could also imagine that warmth covering his still very cold body, pressing deeper inside him with every forceful thrust of Asher’s shapely hips. Snapping his eyes open, Jean-Claude stepped away from the bed and shot Asher a clear look of accusation. “You need to get dressed as well!”

Pulling on his robe, Asher looked back at Jean-Claude and pretended to pout. “Are you certain we can’t keep her? It is only temporary, cheri.” He reached over and brushed a stray lock of hair from Paris’ eyes. “The sex was refreshingly meaningless.”

Jean-Claude shook his head. “I cannot believe I’m hearing this from you of all people,” he rumbled. “You who rejected every lover I sent you. What did she say to you to win you over so quickly?” If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear Asher had been the one be-spelled.

Asher sat up and shrugged. “It was what she didn’t say,” he said flatly.

In near desperation, the master vampire began looking around the room, but Jean-Claude quickly realized Paris’ clothes were nowhere to be found. He faced Asher again.

“Where are her clothes?”

“Why are you asking me that?” Asher replied. “You woke before I did.”

“She was already naked when I woke.” He paused, thinking. “How long has she been here? She‘s clearly made herself right at home.”

Asher slid off the bed to help Jean-Claude find the missing garments. “Again, I do not know, mon ami. But you and I are both very aware the wolves tend to be quite comfortable in their skin.”

“Which means her clothing could be anywhere, if she wore any here at all,” Jean-Claude sighed. “Forget it. I’ll put her in one of Anita’s dresses. They’re about the same size. I don’t want to waste anymore time. The sooner I return her to Richard, the better.”

Jean-Claude retreated to the adjoining room in which Anita kept a few spare things and some clothes. Searching through the closet, Jean-Claude was confronted with mostly lingerie and cocktail dresses. He would have to make sure Anita kept more modest-looking clothing here in the future, though he hoped with all his heart he would never have to utilize them.

Finally settling on a black sleeveless dress with an over-lapping bodice, the master vampire carried his prize along with a pair of Anita’s shoes and an unopened package of stockings into the bedroom. He tossed them onto the bed at the slumbering werewolf’s bare feet.

“Are you taking her out to dinner now?” Asher inquired facetiously, gesturing at the dress. He grabbed Paris’ arm and hauled her into a sitting position on the bed.

Jean-Claude shot him a sideways glance. “It was the most conservative one I could find,” he protested, pulling the dress over Paris’ lolling head. She smiled on, clearly oblivious to anything but her long-burning afterglow.

“Wake up, cherie,” Asher whispered, patting her cheek gently as Jean-Claude zipped the back of the dress. “It is time to go.”

“Go?” Paris answered muzzily. She opened her eyes slowly and fixed them on Asher. Then she smiled seductively. “Are you going to take me to the moon again?”

Asher grinned back at her, but then noticed Jean-Claude glaring at him out of the corner of his eye and his smile quickly faded. Asher cleared his throat self-consciously. “Non, unfortunately. You are going to have to leave now.”

“Leave?” Paris asked, her eyes widening unevenly as if she were struggling against the effects of Asher’s power over her. “Where am I going?” She turned her attention to Jean-Claude. “Don’t you want to use me first?”

Jean-Claude’s face became a vacant mask. “I certainly appreciate your most generous offer, but it is simply not to be, Mademoiselle. I am returning you to your pack. I will assure your master you did nothing wrong. No harm will befall you.”

Not that he really believed Richard would punish her, but knowing she was unaware of her Ulfric’s personal vendetta towards Jean-Claude, he could see where she might think he would.

Frowning deeply, Paris faced Asher once more as if hoping he would protest on her behalf. “I don’t understand. Don‘t you get a say in this? Aren‘t you one of the head honchos around here?”

Asher shook his head, looking to Jean-Claude for clarification. “A head what?”

Jean-Claude sighed. “Someone in charge.”

Asher faced Paris again. “I’m his second-in-command, so non, final decisions are not up to me. I only get to make suggestions.” Asher frowned at the resulting look on Paris’ face. He leaned closer to Jean-Claude and whispered in his ear, “I think I just lost my appeal in her eyes.”

Jean-Claude pushed on. “There is nothing to understand,” he told Paris, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her to her feet. “Come with me now. I’ll escort you to the Lunatic Café. There is something I wish to discuss with your master before it gets too late.” He was thinking about his control simply heading out the window if he didn’t properly feed soon.

“Jean-Claude?” Asher hailed, rising from the bed to retrieve his hastily discarded robe. “May I speak with you a moment?” He turned and strolled out of the bedroom and into the hallway, motioning for Jean-Claude to follow.

Jean-Claude pointed at the stockings and shoes. “Finish dressing. I’ll be right back.” He quickly glided after Asher and closed the door behind him. When Asher pulled him aside, Jean-Claude asked, “What is it?”

Asher sighed. “Your power is not exactly where it needs to be if you’re going to be confronting the wolves, mon ami. Are you certain you are up to this? I could come with you--”

“I am fine, Asher. Truly,” Jean-Claude responded. “And I’d like to deal with this matter as quickly and quietly as possible. I’d rather not have an entourage with me. No fanfares or trumpets. Richard finds me pretentious enough. In fact, I’m not even taking the car. It would draw too much unwanted attention. I‘m going incognito.”

“You‘re going to draw attention to yourself no matter what,” Asher protested. “I don’t like the idea of you out there alone and unprotected.”

Jean-Claude disagreed. “Not to worry,” he assured him. “We’ll cut through the back alleys and side streets. Anyone seeing us won’t give us a second thought.”

Conceding finally with a frustrated-sounding sigh, Asher turned and led the way back into the bedroom. Paris had finished dressing and was standing beside the bed, her arms folded across her chest, unconsciously amplifying her already bountiful cleavage.

“She’ll need a coat,” Jean-Claude murmured to Asher. He noticed Asher’s eyes had zeroed in on the same part of Paris’ anatomy his had.

“I’ll give her one of my jackets,” Asher offered and quickly exited the room.

Paris looked decidedly unhappy, despite her continuing afterglow. “I don’t understand any of this,” she said, shaking her head. “Richard thought you’d be well-pleased with me, but you haven’t even tried me out.”

Seeking to console her, Jean-Claude went to her and took her hand in his. “To be honest, Mademoiselle, this has little to do with you personally. Offering you was most generous of your Ulfric, almost too generous.” He forced himself to smile.

Paris seemed to relax a little. She smiled back at the vampire and raised her face to his. “Your hands are so cold. I would have never expected that from the Master of the City. It’s been days for you, hasn’t it? Why don’t you feed?” She pulled out of Jean-Claude’s grasp and held up her wrist. “It’s what I’m here for. It’s what I want.”

For a split second, the temptation rose, but when Asher’s footsteps sounded in the hall, it just as quickly dissipated. Resolutely, Jean-Claude shook his head, stepping away from the werewolf as he did. “It simply would not be…prudent of me.”

“He is limited as to who he can partake of in any given circumstance,” Asher explained, entering the bedroom. He carried one of his more casual-looking jackets. It was the same jacket Asher had worn to dinner the night before Anita left.

Jean-Claude took it from him and held it up to help Paris into it. It was extremely large on her, but it covered her the way he hoped.

“Why is that?” Paris asked Jean-Claude, apparently still mulling over Asher’s words. “You’re the Master of the City. You can have anyone you want.” Then the light of realization seemed to dawn in her eyes. “Oh, I get it. It’s because of…her.”

Jean-Claude frowned, shooting Asher a look of disapproval. “It is my choice,” he went on quietly. “I am aware of her preferences and try to abide by them because I am devoted to her. That is all.”

Paris busied herself rolling up the sleeves on the jacket to free her hands. “What is it with her anyway?” she continued. “I know she’s powerful, but why does every man in St. Louis fall at her feet? Why do they let her walk all over them and then come back for more? She doesn’t know how to treat a man right. She doesn’t know how to give them what they really need. I guess she’s pretty, but seriously, I’ve got more going for me in the looks department. I’d be better for Richard than she would.” She leaned closer to Jean-Claude. “I’d be better for you too.”

Placing his hands on his hips, Jean-Claude shifted his weight to one leg, striking a petulant pose. “Are you done?” he asked, more than ready to be rid of this woman now. The last thing he wanted was to listen to her berate Anita for the next two and half weeks.

Blowing her breath out between her teeth, Paris threw up her arms in resignation. “In other words, not a chance, huh? Fine. Let’s go.” She stormed out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

Asher peered over at Jean-Claude. “Women are the most exquisite creatures,” he said, sounding wistful. “To win one’s heart is to surely be granted the key to true happiness. But add a touch of jealousy to the mix, and that delicate, exquisite creature can turn into a real monster. I can understand why you seek to avoid confronting it on all levels.”

Jean-Claude had to smile. “The green-eyed monster.”

Asher laughed. “Oui.” He leaned over and gave Jean-Claude a quick affectionate peck on the cheek. “Bon chance avec Richard, mon ami.”

Jean-Claude turned to go. “Considering the temper I am in tonight, you’d do better wishing him luck with me,” he replied and stalked after Paris.

*****

Paris trailed after Jean-Claude, clearly reluctant to return to her pack. It became obvious to Jean-Claude that she had seen an opportunity with him she had not been given with Richard and the lukoi. Jean-Claude knew she was more than capable of matching his stride, but chose not to, simply to prolong their journey and seemingly vex him. Jean-Claude tried to ignore her constant protests, and her complaints about the shoes she was wearing, but when she flopped onto a bus stop bench and burst into tears, Jean-Claude realized her unhappiness would have to be addressed.

He returned to her, feeling somewhat shamed by his callousness. After all, none of this was really her fault and when she looked up at him tearfully and called him a heartless sonofabitch, his guilt grew two-fold.

Seating himself beside her on the bench, Jean-Claude took a deep breath. He reached down and picked up one of her feet and slipped off her shoe. Admittedly, three-inch pumps were not ideal for traipsing across the city in. He massaged the sole of her foot gently and offered her an apologetic look.

Paris stopped crying and wiped at her remaining tears with the palm of her hand. “So you can be sweet when you want to be,” she sniffed.

Jean-Claude lowered his eyes. “I suppose I deserve that,” he stated. “I apologize for my behavior. I am angry, but it is not towards you. I have come to realize I am angrier with myself than anyone, because the ridiculous status quo I contentedly reside in is entirely of my own making. It really has nothing to do with you, or your Ulfric, or anyone beside myself.” Carefully he lowered Paris’ foot to the ground and picked up the other to massage it.

It was clear from her expression, she didn’t understand exactly what he was going on about, but she had caught the gist of his discontent. Her eyes reflected a warm sympathy for him. She reached over and placed her hand reassuringly on his arm.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted too,” she told him. “I can tell you’re having a rough time. You’re cold and hungry and lonely for your girl. And the last thing you need is some PMSing shapeshifter carrying on like a child about her sore feet.”

Jean-Claude had to smile. He looked deeply into her eyes and sighed. She really was very pretty. Strange how he had not really taken note of her looks before now. Maybe it was the clothing. Asher’s silver-colored jacket suited her complexion and set off her bright red hair. Anita’s dress, though too short for Paris, fit her surprisingly well everywhere else. She seemed a genuinely likeable person and if the circumstances were at all different, Jean-Claude decided he would welcome her among his Kiss.

Lost in random thought, Jean-Claude absently smoothed his hand over the length of Paris’ out-stretched leg. His eyes trailed after his hand, from her slender ankles to her long, tanned thighs. She had nice legs, Jean-Claude decided; shapely and well-toned. They had looked especially nice wrapped around Asher’s butt earlier.

Snatching his hand from Paris’ skin as if he’d just been burned, Jean-Claude slid out from under her limbs and rose to his feet.

“Come. We must be going,” he said with a noticeable quiver in his voice. His control was clearly fraying around the edges. Soon, feeding would be all he’d think of.

Surprisingly, Paris caught hold of his hand before he could get away from her. Worry marred her pretty face with tense lines. She drew Jean-Claude back to the bench. Jean-Claude was somewhat startled by how little he was resisting her.

“You don’t feel well, do you?” she said perceptively. “You’re getting paler by the minute.”

Jean-Claude shook his head. “I am only feeling somewhat out of sorts tonight,” he answered her. “I’ve paid too little attention to my needs these past few days. I’ve fed differently than I normally do and though it sustains me, it is not as effective as I need it to be and I do not garner much power from it.”

“You should know better,” Paris softly chided. “You’re the Master of the City. You should always keep your power at its peak. Your people rely on you and you’re putting them in jeopardy--allowing yourself to become vulnerable like this.”

Jean-Claude did feel vulnerable. His own mind didn’t even seem under his control anymore. The unbidden erotic images and lustful thoughts which continuously popped into his head told him he was feeling Anita’s absence in more ways than one.

“Look, I won’t tell anybody because I know you need to keep things quiet,” Paris continued. “I won’t even tell Richard. He can punish me however he wants, but I don’t care. You can still take me back to him, because I get this whole thing between you and our Bolverk, but right now she‘s not available, and your pomme de sang isn‘t around either. Just the fill-in. I‘m sorry, Jean-Claude, but right now, I‘m all you‘ve got.”

The vampire raised his eyes slowly. It was a viable argument, he had to admit. For reasons unknown, Jean-Claude felt more comfortable with the idea of feeding from Paris here. Perhaps it was the anonymity the city streets provided. There were a few people milling about, but should anyone happen upon the two of them, they would simply appear as lovers caught up in a passionate exchange.

Jean-Claude knew he could feed from her with a kiss. It would bolster his waning control and get him through the next few hours until a suitable blood source could be found. Then, Anita had permitted him to feed this way with women before. There’d be no harm done.

“All right,” Jean-Claude said. He sat beside Paris on the bench and gathered her into his arms. “I am going to kiss you.”

“Kiss me?” Paris echoed. “Okay.”

Despite her consent, the werewolf’s body suddenly felt like a coiled spring in his arms. She was too wound up with expectation to feel anything resembling the lust he required. Jean-Claude peered into her eyes. “Calm yourself. You’re too tense.”

Paris took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You’re giving me a second chance so I want it to be good, you know. I feel like I‘m auditioning for you in a way. Like, maybe you‘ll reconsider--”

“Don’t think about that,” Jean-Claude scolded her. “I need you to relax.”

“Okay, okay,” she agreed, but only tensed more when he leaned towards her.

Sighing, Jean-Claude only nuzzled her cheek with his jaw. Obviously, he was going to have to get into this a lot more than he would have preferred. He needed Paris to focus on her desire for him or this would not work at all.

“Touch me, cherie,” he whispered in her ear, pouring his seductive power into his voice. He flicked the tip of his tongue across her studded lobe. “Think of how much I want to make love to you. I am giving you my body. Use it for your pleasure. Touch me. Kiss me.”

Blinking up at him, Paris placed her hand on Jean-Claude’s chest. Slowly, she slid it over his shoulder to his neck. When her fingertips grazed his bare skin, she sighed and raised her other hand to his neck. Moving closer to Jean-Claude, her eyes drifted over his face with abject adoration and she parted her lips invitingly, drawing him down towards her.

“Yes,“ Jean-Claude breathed out, releasing his ardeur. “Je veux faire l’amour avec toi.“ He focused on her open lips. They were as red as the blood the vampire knew was coursing through her veins, as succulent looking, and undoubtedly sweet.

“Yes,” Paris echoed, her eyes fluttering shut.

His own passion flaring unexpectedly, Jean-Claude eased Paris down on the bench, kissing her deeply, laving her delectable lips with his tongue before pushing it past her teeth into the wet, hot recesses of her mouth. His hand roamed her side with savor, over the sloping curve of her hip and up to her ample bosom.

The werewolf’s body was so incredibly warm. Her skin was so very soft and supple. She carried Asher’s scent and filled out Anita’s dress with enticing familiarity. It was all proving to be quite a heady mixture of stimulation for Jean-Claude. He nearly forgot who he was kissing and his too long neglected desire was practically carrying him away.

“Yes,“ Paris said again. She pulled open the neckline of the dress, exposing herself to the vampire brazenly.

Asher’s words regarding consent flitted through Jean-Claude’s mind. He dragged his mouth from Paris’ lips, down her neck to the top of her breast. Teasingly, Jean-Claude squeezed her and stroked her nipple until it hardened beneath his palm, then covered it with his mouth and sucked on it softly.

Paris moaned with pleasure, clearly exuding lust now. She bent her leg and pressed it against Jean-Claude’s hip, centering her loins directly beneath his.

“Fuck me,” Paris murmured into Jean-Claude’s mouth. She whimpered and squirmed with arousal.

The husky sound of her voice almost startled Jean-Claude however. His body may have been on Paris, but his mind had been on Anita.

Quelling his own lust now, he drew Paris’ need into him, replenishing his power to the point of satiation, and as his power was restored, his mind cleared, his body calmed, and his awareness grew. His attention zeroed in on a faint clicking some distance away. An insect perhaps? Jean-Claude realized if he was thinking of insects while in the provocative embrace of a beautiful woman, his demon was fulfilled.

Jean-Claude stopped kissing Paris and shifted to move off her, but her hands were all but fastened to his rear end, imprisoning his hips as she ground herself against him.

“Stop,” the master vampire hissed, pushing her away.

Paris obeyed, hauling herself up, and righting the neckline of her dress to cover her exposed breast. “Oh, don’t stop yet,” she fairly pleaded. “I was just starting to get into it.”

Jean-Claude worked to wipe the lipstick from his mouth. “I apologize, but it is for the best.”

Looking dejected, Paris shrugged. “Well, I hope you got what you needed from that. It didn’t seem like I turned you on very much. I mean, you weren’t even getting hard….”

Smoothing out the creases in his shirt, Jean-Claude faced Paris. “For your information, it is not necessary that I be turned on to feed, so to speak. You must also keep in mind, until I have a meal of blood, I remain--”

“Oh, right,” Paris told him and blushed a little. She lowered her eyes and swallowed self-consciously. “How’s a girl supposed to know if she’s got it going or not with you then?”

Jean-Claude smiled easily. He reached over and raised her chin with his hand until her eyes met his. “You’ve no need to doubt. You did well for me. You pleased me just as you were supposed to do.”

Returning his smile, Paris leaned forward and softly kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks,” she whispered.

Click. Click. Click.

Jean-Claude turned his head in the direction of the strange sound. “Did you hear that?”

Paris frowned now. “What, in particular? I can hear all sorts of things.”

“Never mind,” Jean-Claude said, dismissing the matter with a wave of his hand. He rose and helped Paris to her feet. She didn’t bother to replace the shoes, choosing to carry them in her hand and walk on barefoot.

“Let’s do this,” she told Jean-Claude, her frown deepening. She raised her eyes and looked longingly up at him. “I hope you will consider me, maybe in the not-so-distant future, to be one of the Kiss’ pommes. I know I can’t replace Jason or mean anything to you that even resembles what Anita Blake does, but I can still fill in the gaps.”

Jean-Claude took Paris’ hand in his. “I will consider it,” he promised. At the rate his Kiss was growing, he’d soon need another permanent pomme de sang and in time, Anita’s restrictions on him had lessened. Who knew what his future held?

Drawing Paris closer to him, he chivalrously offered her his arm as they started back down the street, this time side by side.

*****

“Well, well, well,” the Ulfric of the Thronnos Rokke clan said with a grin as Jean-Claude entered his office at the Lunatic Café and closed the door behind him. “As I live and breathe--which unfortunately you don’t--I’d never thought I’d see the day when the Master Vampire of all of St. Louis darkens my doorstep.”

Jean-Claude offered Richard a condescending smile in return. He took a seat opposite Richard’s desk and leaned back, striking a pose of absolute nonchalance. He gestured at the pack leader with an amiable wave of his hand. “I was certain you would be expecting me.”

Richard sat forward slightly. “Oh and why is that Jean-Claude? Explain it to me.”

Jean-Claude’s eyes drifted over to where Paris stood back in the farthest corner of the room. Richard followed the direction of his gaze and fixed his eyes on Paris.

“Dismiss her,” the master vampire told the Ulfric. “What we have to discuss is of a private nature.”

Richard looked back at Jean-Claude. He made a face at him and shook his head. “I don’t have the faintest clue what all this is about, Jean-Claude, so why don’t you just stop pussyfooting around and come right to the point for a change.”

Jean-Claude crossed his legs and brushed at some imaginary lint on his pants. He was prepared to wait all night if need be. “Dismiss her first.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “You dismiss her. She’s yours, for the time being.”

Jean-Claude didn’t bother to look up. He wasn’t about to acknowledge such a thing. As expected, it was Richard who lost his patience first. He rose to his feet and turned to Paris, flinging his arm towards the office door.

“Go on,” he rumbled. “But report back to me when we‘re through.” His eyes locked on Jean-Claude. “I want to know what this is really all about.”

Paris fled the office, still wearing Asher’s jacket and still clutching Anita’s shoes. Jean-Claude realized regretfully, he’d probably never see either again. He faced Richard.

“Why are you insinuating I won’t be forthcoming about this? I am the one who sought you out tonight, mon ami.”

Richard sank back down in his chair and dragged his hand through his amber-colored hair which had grown into an array of tousled spikes. The shorter hair he currently sported put more focus on his ruggedly handsome face and drew out the deep brown of his eyes. It was easy to see what women found so attractive about him. Women like Paris and women like Anita. Richard was the epitome of modern masculine appeal. Something Jean-Claude could never hope to achieve, no matter how short he wore his hair or changed his style.

“Well, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are you going to sit there and stare at me all night?” Richard began, breaking into Jean-Claude’s envious reverie.

“I’m returning the woman,” the master vampire responded blankly, trying to disguise the irritation he felt.

It surprised him that just being in Richard‘s presence sparked a jealousy in him of all the things Richard was that appealed to Anita which he wasn‘t. It was all so irrational, but the vampire couldn’t seem to help himself.

“You’re returning her? Why?” Richard asked, his voice sounding just as empty. Jean-Claude could only hope Richard was disguising a jealous fit of his own.

“You know why,” Jean-Claude shot back. “You knew the moment you decided to send her to The Circus of the Damned I would return her.”

Richard did a convincingly well job of feigning innocence. “I did, huh? Maybe I would if you weren’t shielding from me--I could maybe read your mind, because if you don’t tell me, how the hell am I supposed to know?” Richard paused and seemed to come to a different conclusion suddenly. His concern now seemed genuine. “Did she do something wrong? Was it Asher?”

Jean-Claude had to smile at that. It warmed his heart to think Richard would be concerned for Asher. “Non, mon ami, she and Asher got along famously in fact.”

“What then?” Richard was back to being impatient. “What’s the problem?”

Jean-Claude sighed. “You know…at least you should know, I cannot use a woman. I can only use men. Paris’ only fault stems from the fact she is very much a woman.”

For a moment, the Ulfric looked truly nonplussed. Jean-Claude tended to forget how naïve he was at times. But then Richard didn’t make a point of studying the intricacies of vampire existence and he certainly went out of his way to avoid the ins and outs of Jean-Claude’s personal society.

“You prefer men,” Richard announced, seemingly knowingly.

Jean-Claude shook his head. “Anita…prefers men. My only requirement is that my food not be furry at the time of my feeding. Man or woman, human, shape shifter, it does not matter to me. But out of respect for Anita’s wishes, I am presently limiting myself to men.”

At last it appeared as if Richard understood. He smiled, and then started to laugh lightly. “Or rather you like her to think you do.”

Jean-Claude tensed. “What are you implying, mon ami?”

Richard leaned back in his chair. “Oh come on now, Jean-Claude. We’re both guys here, Anita’s miles away. You don’t need to pretend with me. You get some on the sly, don’t try to deny it.”

“I will deny it,” the master vampire replied more vehemently than he would have liked.

Richard chuckled deeply. “I think the fair vampire doth protest too much.”

Jean-Claude concentrated on keeping his expression void of emotion. He took a deep, cleansing breath, and then offered Richard another indulgent smile. “What has led you to believe this about me? I know for a fact such accusations didn’t come from Anita. Who else’s mind have you access to that indicts me of infidelity?”

“Paris,” Richard said plainly, as if Jean-Claude should have known all along. He gestured at the closed office door. “She’s outside there right this minute, replaying the night in her head like a soft-core porn film she saw at the Bijou. When you said she and Asher got along famously, I’d have to agree with you now.” Richard’s eyes looked past Jean-Claude as he turned his gaze inward and he smiled mischievously. “I would have never imagined you’d be the type to hook up at a bus stop. How very…plebian of you, mon ami.”

Jean-Claude closed his eyes momentarily and swore to himself. Richard was right. There were no secrets between himself and his pack. There were no secrets between any of them. It was all metaphysically impossible.

“I was feeding,” the vampire muttered with a graceful, Gaelic shrug. “Foolishly I had let my hungers reach the point of dire need. It would not have been wise of me to go on that way much longer. On route here, your wolf graciously offered me her service and I was simply too vulnerable to reject her again.”

“Oh, I see,” Richard said with a grin that told Jean-Claude the exact opposite. “So now we’re back to square one, aren’t we? Asher used her, you used her…so what’s the problem?”

Now Jean-Claude was beginning to lose his patience. “Richard, if you would be so kind as to assign another wolf to this duty, a male this time, I will collect my substitute and simply be on my way.”

The expression on Richard’s face told Jean-Claude he was all business now. “Sorry. No can do.” He sat forward and leaned his elbows on his desk. “Two reasons. One: this was a voluntary assignment. I’m not about to order any of my wolves to be fed off of like sheep, and two: you and Asher have already used Paris--my only volunteer, by the way--so you’ve already accepted my offering of her. You can’t return her now.”

Jean-Claude rose to his feet. Clearly it had been futile to even think Richard would cooperate in this matter. Perhaps he hadn’t sent Paris out of spite, but he was more than capable of bending a few rules when it suited him. Obviously, this just wasn’t one of those times.

“I am not taking the blame for this,” the vampire announced under his breath. “If Anita is unhappy with these arrangements, then I will point her in your direction. You’re the one who tries at every twist and turn to cast me as the antagonist in her life. You’re the one who is so insecure you must constantly thwart me to set yourself apart in her eyes. After all this time, Richard, why do you still harbor such animosity for me? The rivalry is over.”

With a clear, menacing look in his eyes, Richard rose from his chair, his body tense with barely controlled anger.

“Is it? I know you are just as jealous of me as I am of you where Anita is concerned,“ Richard replied. “The only difference is you think you’ve succeeded where I haven’t, but I’m sad to say, you haven’t succeeded at all. Not the way you hoped to anyway.“

Jean-Claude frowned openly. “I am not competing against you. I am trying to work with you.“

Richard put his hands on his hips. “No. You are the insecure one, Jean-Claude,” he began evenly, despite his glowering eyes. “You’re so afraid of offending Anita’s ridiculous and unrealistic sensibilities, you go out of your way, against your nature, and beyond reasonable expectations to keep her in your bed. I don’t need to make you antagonistic in her eyes because we’re so far at opposite ends of the scale, there’s just no comparison. For example, I have sex with whomever I want, whenever I want, and Anita knows it. So she doesn’t like it, but she accepts it because unlike you, I told her that’s just the way it was going to be. Why don’t you try it sometime, Jean-Claude?”

Jean-Claude stared back at Richard, and then shook his head. “No thank you,” he murmured and turned to leave.

Richard snorted a sharp laugh of disbelief. “And why the hell not?”

Pulling open the office door, Jean-Claude paused and turned to face the Ulfric one last time. “Because I love her,” he stated confidently. With that, he motioned for Paris to follow him and closed the door behind him.

*****

As dawn drew near, Jean-Claude ordered Paris to stay in her assigned quarters unless she was summoned. She was pleased to be taken back to The Circus, but seemingly could tell Jean-Claude wanted as little to do with her as possible for the remainder of her stay and slunk to her room dejectedly.

The master vampire couldn’t concern himself about such things at this point. He refused to lead Paris on just to placate her feelings, but he also couldn’t help regretting having to treat her like the “sheep” she was assigned to be.

By the time Jean-Claude retired to his bedroom, he was in a gloomy mood to say the least. He started stripping off his clothes to get into bed and tossed them indiscriminately over the back of a chair, sparing only a quick glance at Asher reclining across the pillows. He paused, reconsidering undressing further.

“Perhaps we should sleep in our coffins for the time being,” Jean-Claude wondered aloud. “I do not want to wake the coming evening the way I did last night. I ordered her to stay in her room, but in an hour or so, I’ll have no way of knowing if she does or not. I do not want to chance it.”

Asher sat up slightly, propping his head up with his elbow. “Do you really think that is necessary? Returning to the coffins, that is. If you do not trust her, put a guard at her door.”

Jean-Claude frowned. “I do not want her to think she is being imprisoned during her stay here.”

At that, Asher smiled. “I think you already have, mon ami by confining her to her room. The surprising part is over. At least we know who she is and why she is here now. I can think of worst things than waking up with her wedged between us.” Asher stretched languidly, seductively, and then he rolled over and patted the vacant space on the sheets beside him. “Come to bed, Jean-Claude.”

The master vampire sighed, resigned. He really didn’t want to return to his coffin either and the sight of Asher’s glorious naked body atop those shimmery scarlet sheets was just too convincing an argument not to.

Tossing aside the last of his garments, Jean-Claude glided towards the bed. He took a moment before climbing in, letting his gaze linger on Asher appreciatively.

Asher opened his arms and as Jean-Claude settled into his embrace, he was rewarded with a kiss that almost made him forget about the trials of the night. Almost.

Peering into Asher’s eyes, Jean-Claude sighed, but not from pleasure. Asher raised his hand and lovingly stroked the side of Jean-Claude’s face. He leaned forward and touched his lips to Jean-Claude’s brow and trailed them down the bridge of his nose, over his mouth to his chin. Jean-Claude closed his eyes and snuggled closer to his friend.

“What’s bothering you?” Asher asked, continuing his oral exploration of Jean-Claude’s face. He slipped his hand down Jean-Claude’s side to his hip and caressingly squeezed the round fullness of muscle beneath his palm.

With an imperceptible shake of his head, Jean-Claude sighed again, responding this time to Asher’s flirtatious attention. He could feel Asher’s hardness, pushing urgently against his thigh and wrapped his leg over Asher’s hip to draw the other vampire closer still.

“Nothing,” Jean-Claude said, tilting his head back to give Asher better access to his throat. Asher obligingly gnawed the skin just under his jaw line.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Asher whispered in his ear. “Don’t give me that. Something’s wrong. I can tell.” Latching his mouth to the base of Jean-Claude’s neck, Asher sucked and chewed his flesh voraciously as if determined to mark him. His hand shifted as his long elegant fingers sought the shallow recesses just out of his reach, making Jean-Claude writhe against him.

“I…” the master vampire began, and then momentarily lost his train of thought as Asher’s fingertip penetrated his body. He moaned softly and tightened his arms around Asher’s shoulders. “I will need to take blood this coming evening.”

“I hope you do,” Asher breathed into Jean-Claude’s hair. “It makes the hours before daybreak that much more interesting.”

Jean-Claude flashed a smile. “You are becoming as singular-minded when it comes to sex as I am, mon ami.”

Asher grasped Jean-Claude’s chin, opening his mouth just before covering it with his own. Asher’s kiss was soft, but devouring. His tongue slithered over Jean-Claude’s with a languid stroking motion, his full lips caressing his with a tantalizing thoroughness.

“Can you blame me?” Asher growled, his voice thickening with desire. “When I have the sexiest man in all of St. Louis in my arms. Mon Dieu, Je te veux.” He nuzzled Jean-Claude’s neck before pulling back far enough to look the other vampire squarely in the eye as if he suddenly remembered something important. “Why is the idea of taking blood upsetting you?”

Jean-Claude half-shrugged. “It will upset Anita. Not the idea of taking blood, but the inevitable intimacy with another woman I will have while I‘m taking blood. I‘m not certain how she will react when she finds out about Paris--if she doesn‘t know about her already.”

He would be surprised if Jason hadn‘t told Anita by now. Now that he thought about it, Anita hadn’t called him once since she’d been away.

Asher only sighed heavily. “Is that all? Jean-Claude, don’t sweat the small stuff. Anita will understand its necessity. She’s reliably rational when the situation calls for it.” He offered Jean-Claude a reassuring smile and moved to kiss him again, but Jean-Claude rolled onto his back, evading his advances. Thoughts of Anita’s impending jealousy were quashing his libido.

“Rational?” Jean-Claude echoed. “Anita is anything but rational when it comes to me. And even less tolerant.” He was thinking about Richard now and what he had said earlier regarding his blatant sexual activities. “I try my best to abide by her wishes, but it is not always easy.”

Undeterred, Asher slid up against Jean-Claude and draped his arm across his chest. “In the relatively short time I have known Anita, she has come to terms with many of the more unpleasant aspects of being so closely associated with vampires. She has shown new levels of tolerance for many of the things we do, some out of necessity, some not.” He dragged his hand teasingly down Jean-Claude’s stomach to the thickening black curls below.

Jean-Claude’s eyes floated to Asher’s face before sliding shut in abject bliss. If Asher was trying to distract him from his anxiety, he was doing a fair job of it. His hand was performing the most exquisite ministrations on him now, making his mind gravitate more towards the pleasurable sensations currently coursing through it.

“Umm….that’s true,” Jean-Claude conceded, having to struggle to piece together a coherent reply now. “Perhaps I’m underestimating…her. She is a remarkable woman.” He tried to ignore the little rattling voice in the back of his head that repeatedly reminded him that remarkable as she may be, Anita was still a woman.

Asher repositioned himself over Jean-Claude’s body. His face hovered mere inches above Jean-Claude’s groin.

“She is not as naïve as you believe either,” Asher went on casually, despite the fact his eyes fixed lustfully on the flesh just beneath his mouth. “She knows we no longer retire to separate rooms come dawn.” He flicked his tongue over Jean-Claude’s tip making his breath catch. “I know there was a time she would not have allowed this….”

…But then maybe Anita simply believed they only slept together. Literally.

“If that is true, Jean,” Asher whispered huskily, evidently capturing Jean-Claude’s projected thought, “then there is no hope for her.” He turned his head and smiled devilishly, then lowered his face between Jean-Claude‘s legs.

The moment Asher’s cool, wet mouth touched Jean-Claude’s body, he moaned with euphoric delight. His fingertips trailed lovingly over the long golden tresses twisting and tickling his abdomen with every movement of Asher’s head. His mind centered on his need, whisking away the remnants of the night’s tension. Unable to wrap his brain around another single thought, Jean-Claude realized he could only feel now and surrendered himself to his rising passion.

“Finish me,” Jean-Claude gasped pleadingly after only a few minutes had passed. His body was so wracked with desire now, he felt somewhat tortured, and in acute need of release.

Asher graciously obliged him, riding out wave after wave of Jean-Claude’s orgasm while still cradling him in his mouth. He only raised his head after the last of Jean-Claude’s tremors faded and the master vampire lie panting and groaning beneath him. He dragged himself back up to Jean-Claude’s face and dropped a quick kiss on his still quivering lips.

“Tomorrow, promise me you’ll feed,” he whispered, nuzzling his cheek. “I like seeing my men as aroused as I make them.”

Jean-Claude smiled and leaned over to capture Asher‘s mouth with his. “I will, mon ami. I promise.”

*****

Jean-Claude sat forward slightly in anticipation as he waited for Anita to answer her cell phone. He had dialed her hotel room initially, but was informed she was no longer accepting calls through the switchboard. He couldn’t think why she was having her calls blocked, but he didn’t dwell on it considering he had her cell number and could just as easily call that.

It wasn’t as if he had anything in particular to say to her; he was more or less just catching up with her, seeing how she was doing, and if her seminar was going well. Mostly, he just wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to hear her tell him how much she missed him and how she couldn’t wait to come home to him. It was going on five nights now without a word from her and since she was shielding and blocking his contact metaphysically as well, Jean-Claude was feeling more than a little disconnected from her and decided a phone call was in order this evening.

After what seemed like ten rings later, the phone was answered. Jean-Claude opened his mouth to greet her, but quickly realized he had only gotten through to her voice mail. The only thing he could do was leave a recorded message.

After the beep sounded, Jean-Claude sighed heavily. He hated answering machines and voice mails. They were so disappointing.

“Good evening, ma petite,” he began softly. “I was just calling to say hello. You must be very busy there. I haven’t heard from you… I miss you. If you get this message, please call me. Until then.” With that, he hung up the phone and leaned back against his sofa cushions.

Despite having just taken his first blood meal in nearly a week, Jean-Claude felt listless and unmotivated. Then, he hadn’t taken his fill, still too mired in guilt to truly satisfy his need. He’d taken Paris’ mind, but nothing had come of it. Including Paris. He had made sure of that. He left her incoherent in her room after only a few swallows from her wrist, but even that seemed to give her too much pleasure. Jean-Claude was reluctant to feed from her again, but knew he’d have to at some point. Damn Richard.

Jean-Claude sighed again. He was wasting time thinking about such things. There was a veritable myriad of little projects he could do tonight to pass the time…but all he wanted to do was talk to Anita and clearly that wasn’t about to happen any time soon.

Forcing himself to his feet, he started to pull on his waistcoat to go out when Micah walked in followed closely by Asher.

Micah froze as he set eyes on Jean-Claude. He looked back at Asher apprehensively and then cleared his throat self-consciously.

“By chance, have you seen the morning news?“ he asked, clearly feeling such a sense of urgency, he didn‘t bother dispensing pleasantries first.

Jean-Claude merely frowned at the Nimir-Raj and continued on towards the hall. “Non. The morning editions go to the clubs. I don’t read them here, but I am on my way out there now, if either of you care to join me.”

“I think you need to see this, cheri,” Asher said rather solemnly.

The tone of the other vampire’s voice made Jean-Claude stop in his tracks. It was then he noticed the folded newspaper under Micah’s arm and the unhappy expression on his handsome face. Apparently whatever news he and Asher were bearing wasn’t particularly good.

“Tell me,” Jean-Claude more or less commanded, accepting the paper Micah readily handed him.

“Last night,” Asher explained, “while you were escorting Paris to the Lunatic Café….”

Jean-Claude unfolded the front page and quickly skimmed the headlines. It seemed no different than any other day’s news for the most part.

“Bottom of the third page,“ Micah offered helpfully.

Getting more nervous by the second, Jean-Claude quickly flipped to the third page of the newspaper. Finally, under the news of local interest, he spied the series of photos gracing the bottom of the page and his heart skidded to a halt. Now he realized what Micah and Asher were so concerned about.

“A paparazzi photographer must have been following you,” Asher went on. “And he has captured you with the mademoiselle in three very compromising positions.”

Jean-Claude read the caption beneath the three published photos with growing horror. “Giving new meaning to the term ’bench warming’: Jean-Claude, the Master Vampire of the City, along with an unidentified woman, engage in a little late night amour at the bus stop just past Westgate Street after taking a midnight stroll. Anita Blake, Jean-Claude‘s usual companion, could not be reached for comment.”

Asher and Micah exchanged worried glances. Jean-Claude looked up wide-eyed with disbelief.

“If it is any consolation, your face is not fully visible in any of the photographs,” Asher quickly pointed out. “You can simply say it was a case of mistaken identity. The only reason I know it is actually you is because I recognized my jacket.”

Micah gestured at Jean-Claude and shook his head. “With all due respect, how did you end up getting your picture taken making-out with some red-headed woman on a bus stop bench?”

Numbly, Jean-Claude handed the paper back to Micah. He didn’t like the fact the newspaper had printed such provocative pictures of him with Paris; but truthfully, it was the last sentence of the caption that bothered him more than anything. Anita Blake, Jean-Claude’s usual companion, could not be reached for comment.

Some reporter had obviously called Anita and told her about the pictures--maybe even sent them to her through the miracles of modern technology, then asked what she thought about them. She had most likely been badgered about this matter throughout the day. No wonder Anita was not accepting phone calls. Especially from him.

“I was feeding,” Jean-Claude began quietly, and then gestured at the paper. “It looks a lot worse than it actually was in those pictures. It started out as just a kiss. I’m not sure how or why I ended up nearly ravaging her. It may have had something to do with the fact she was wearing Anita’s dress and the scent of Asher from his coat was all over her body.”

Asher clucked his tongue admonishingly. “He hadn’t fed in days,” he informed Micah. “His control was tenuous at best. If he had simply bitten her wrist in the privacy of his room he would have been done with it, but no, he was being stubborn.” Finally Asher turned his attention back on Jean-Claude. “When are you going to start listening to me?”

Jean-Claude moaned. “Asher, please, not now.” He drifted over to the sofa and sank down in the middle of the soft cushions. He caught sight of the phone out of the corner of his eye and sighed despondently.

Tossing the newspaper aside, Micah went to Jean-Claude and sat beside him. He took the vampire’s hand and squeezed it affectionately.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come to you, had I known.” He leaned forward and nuzzled Jean-Claude’s neck, lowering his voice. “You like to feed from me, I know you do.” Raising Jean-Claude’s hand to his lips, he softly kissed his knuckles.

Jean-Claude smiled coyly at the Nimir-Raj, but then looked up at Asher. Micah followed the direction of Jean-Claude’s gaze and sighed forcefully.

“Asher, of course,” Micah continued. He dropped Jean-Claude’s hand and rose to his feet to address the tall blonde vampire standing in front of him. “You have no reason whatsoever to feel jealous of me. What I give to Jean-Claude is no different from what Jason or Stephan or any of the pommes give him. Why do you single me out all the time? He makes them come too.”

Clearly fuming, Asher’s steely blue eyes narrowed and his upper lip curled back in the subtlest of snarls. He peered down at the wereleopard menacingly. “So, by some incredulous twist of fate, I am now to blame for this sordid business with the photographer? How dare you imply such a thing! I tried to warn him! I offered to go with him! He doesn’t fucking listen to me!”

Jean-Claude shot to his feet and slipped in between the glowering men. “Enough! If any one is to blame, it is me and solely me,” he growled. “But both of you seem to be forgetting the most disturbing aspect of this entire ordeal.” Jean-Claude looked from Micah to Asher. “Evidently, Anita knows. Surely she has made her own assumptions about the photographs by now.”

Micah seemed to take a deep, cleansing breath. “You should call her. Explain them to her. She’ll understand.”

Both Asher and Jean-Claude gave the Nimir-Raj dubious looks.

“I tried calling her just before you arrived,” Jean-Claude told him. “She’s not taking calls through the hotel switchboard and I only got her voicemail when I tried to reach her on her cell phone. What’s worse is she is shielding from me. I cannot feel her at all.”

Micah reached inside his jacket pocket and withdrew his own cell phone. Dialing Anita’s number through a series of codes, he faced Jean-Claude and took a deep breath. “Let me try her. I’ll get her on the line, calm her down, and then I’ll pass the phone to you. Then you can talk to her.”

Jean-Claude brightened at the idea. If anything, at least he’d get to speak with her. He leaned against Asher for support, waiting for Micah’s phone to be answered. Obligingly, Asher planted a kiss on Jean-Claude’s hair and put his arm around his waist reassuringly.

When Anita finally answered, her voice rang out loud and clear through Micah’s phone, making Jean-Claude’s heart thump against the walls of his chest half from excitement, half from trepidation. Micah greeted her, asked her how things were going at the crime seminar, and listened dutifully to her reply. She sounded fairly normal and even-tempered. If she was aware of the photos, as Jean-Claude suspected, she wasn’t reacting in any particular way or relaying her knowledge of them to her Nimir-Raj.

Clearly feeling confident she would talk with Jean-Claude, Micah informed her the vampire was right beside him and had tried calling her earlier. Suddenly Anita’s tone changed. Jean-Claude could still hear her reply; despite the fact she had lowered her voice.

“I can’t speak to him right now, Micah,” she half-whispered, half-growled. “I don’t even know what I would say to him if I did.”

Obviously playing the devil’s advocate, Micah prodded Anita for more information. “Is something wrong? If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like things are a little strained between the two of you. Do you want to talk about it?”

“You’re right, you don’t know any better, so you can either speak to Jean-Claude about it, or we can just leave it at that for tonight,” Anita replied. “In other words, no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Micah sighed and offered Jean-Claude an apologetic look. “All right. I respect your wishes. Have a good night and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Is he still there?” Anita asked unexpectedly.

Micah nodded automatically. “Uh, yes. He’s still here. Have you changed your mind about talking to him?”

Anita paused before replying. Jean-Claude held his breath.

“No. But tell him I’ll call him tomorrow. And he better have nothing short of a miracle of an explanation up his sleeve.” With that she hung up.

Feeling sapped of strength, Jean-Claude laid his head on Asher’s shoulder now. He moaned and closed his eyes. “At least you tried, mon ami,” he told Micah, rubbing his cheek against Asher’s shirt.

The wereleopard shrugged. “She did say she would call you tomorrow. Maybe she’ll be more receptive to what you have to say then. She probably just needs a little time to cool off.”

“Oui,” Asher added. “At least she is willing to listen to what you have to say about it. It’s not as though she’s refusing to hear your side of the story.”

Jean-Claude raised his head to look into Asher’s eyes. “The longer she goes without knowing the truth behind those photos, the more distorted her conclusions are going to get. She’s already angry. She is already assuming the worse.”

Micah stepped towards Jean-Claude. “You’re assuming the worse about her too,” he chided softly. “Anita will probably spend the night thinking about it and realize there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. She won’t automatically doubt you if you’ve never given her reason to before.”

“This from the man who has never given Anita reason to doubt him,” Asher grumbled sarcastically.

Micah glared up at the vampire. “I never said that.”

“You think you understand Anita so completely,” Asher went on testily. “Jean-Claude has probably given Anita less reason to doubt him than any of you, yet he is the one she is so quick to pass judgment on for the slightest infringement.”

Micah opened his mouth to speak, but Jean-Claude brusquely pushed out of Asher’s embrace and stretched out his arms to bodily separate the two men once more.

“You speak of me as if I’m not even here,” Jean-Claude hissed at Asher. He turned and fixed his eyes on Micah next. “And don’t presume to tell me what Anita will or will not think about this. Maybe she’d simply grouse about it for a few days if you were the one on the bench in the photos, but with me, her reasoning becomes something else altogether.”

For a moment, Micah looked back at the vampire blankly, and then he offered him a warming smile. “Jean-Claude, all I’m saying is you need to have faith in her love for you. She…exacts harsher punishment on you for your trespasses than the rest of us because she loves you that much more.”

For a moment, Jean-Claude mulled this over. It was not only pretty to think of Anita’s anger in this way, it also left-handedly made sense. The Nimir-Raj’s words were somewhat soothing, and Jean-Claude lowered his hand from Micah’s chest, feeling a little of his tension ease. A slow smile turned up the corners of his mouth, and he leaned over and bestowed a whisper of a kiss on the wereleopard’s brow.

“Thank you, mon ami, for that. It is something I truly needed to hear tonight.”

Micah smiled back at Jean-Claude and inclined his head graciously.

Jean-Claude turned to Asher and found him still seething with anger. Having garnered his lover’s attention at last, Asher gestured at Micah, but unleashed his temper on Jean-Claude.

“Why do you think things would be better if he was the one with you on the bench?”

Micah rolled his eyes. “Not him with me, me with… Oh never mind.”

Jean-Claude’s jaw fell open in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and shook his head instead.

“I’m leaving,” he suddenly announced. “This jealousy is already intolerable and I’ve yet to deal with Anita‘s. I’m going to the Laughing Corpse for the night. If anyone wants to reach me, that’s where I’ll be.”

*****

Secluded in his second floor office, Jean-Claude sat behind the big wooden desk, staring at the blinking cursor on his computer. Hours had passed and he’d accomplished nothing. His mind was too busy recounting the night’s events and the sound of Anita’s voice over the phone.

The phone.

His eyes settled on the handset lying neglected beside his equally neglected computer. Impulsively, he reached for it and punched Anita’s cell number into the keypad. He wasn’t really expecting her to answer so when she actually did, he found himself somewhat at a loss for words.

“Hello? Hello?” Anita was saying. “We must have a bad connection. I can’t hear you. Can you call me back?”

Jean-Claude commanded himself to relax. “It is not the connection…” he began apprehensively. “It is me, ma petite.” He waited for the inevitable “click” of disconnection to follow, but strangely, it never came. He took a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to explain…about the photos.” He briefly considered Asher’s idea of claiming it was all just a case of mistaken identity.

“Damn it. I wouldn’t have answered the phone if I had known it was you,” Anita retorted, sounding more than a little irritated. “But since I’ve got you on the line, Jean-Claude, let me just say this--I’ve been wracking my brain all night, trying to figure out what in the hell those pictures were about, and you know what? I got nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. And you know why that is? It’s because there is no excuse for those photos. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words. And those…pictures say just about everything I need to know.”

Frowning deeply, Jean-Claude sat forward in his chair. “I completely understand how one could misconstrue the content of those photos, as to the casual observer, they are misleading at best,” Jean-Claude offered rationally. “The situation was a great deal more complicated than it appears.”

Anita actually laughed. “Complicated? Like hidden facts? Say for instance, if you look really hard, you can tell she’s not wearing any underwear, and from the position of your head in that middle photo, your mouth is probably on her tit. Oh, and in that third photo, with that kiss, I can see a little bit of tongue.”

Jean-Claude moaned inwardly. “Anita, listen to me--”

“Listen to you?” Anita all but shrieked over the phone. “Come off it, Jean-Claude. What do you honestly believe you can tell me that won’t sound so utterly ridiculous I won’t hang up on you?”

Realizing he was gripping the phone so hard his hand was beginning to cramp, Jean-Claude lowered the handset momentarily and switched it to his other ear.

“Promise me you will not hang up on me until you hear me out,” the vampire answered, his voice sounding a little more desperate than he would have liked.

“I’m not promising you anything, so you’d better talk fast,” Anita shot back.

Jean-Claude sighed. He repeated in his mind what Micah had told him--that Anita was only so angry with him because she loved him. “Ma petite, that woman in the photos with me is named Paris.”

“…Paris? Paris, the werewolf? Richard’s Paris?”

Jean-Claude was surprised. Obviously Anita was acquainted with her. “Oui. She was assigned to my Kiss as my new pomme de sang in Jason’s absence.”

It sounded as if Anita swore under her breath at that. “She’s your pomme now?”

Jean-Claude was partly pleased that Anita hadn’t hung up on him yet, but then it also seemed the more he explained to her, the more agitated she got. He swallowed down the knot in his throat and adopted the most casual tone he could.

“In the photos, it may look to you as if I was making love to her, but in truth, I was only feeding off her--the same way you allowed me to feed on stage at Guilty Pleasures the night Primo was subdued,” he was quick to add. “Last night, I needed to restore my power and quell my ardeur. I was sorely in need as I had not fed properly since before you left.”

“You were in need. You were only feeding off her.” Anita’s tone had suddenly taken a turn for the worse. It seemed as if her full-blown anger was returning, replacing her dubious agitation. “Admit it, Jean-Claude, you weren’t just feeding off her!” Anita yelled now, making Jean-Claude wince. He had thought she had believed him up to this point. Now clearly, she wasn’t, and what she said next confirmed his suspicions. “Not at a secluded bus stop clear across town with her clothes practically falling off her and you on top of her, plastered between her legs! Damn you! You didn’t feed off those women at Guilty Pleasures like that! I give you an inch and you take a mile!”

“She was nervous!“ Jean-Claude countered defensively. “I needed her aroused.“

Anita paused momentarily, and then sighed heavily. “You know, I haven’t been gone a full week yet, and the first chance you get, you sneak off for a little hanky panky with your voluptuous new pomme.”

Jean-Claude felt close to swearing himself now.

“I did not ‘sneak off’ to be with her, ma petite. In all honesty, I was en route to see Richard to return her to him--to exchange her for someone more suitable…and less controversial.”

At that, Anita paused and her anger seemed to quiet. “And did you?”

Tentatively, Jean-Claude moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. “No--but only because Richard would not take her back.” He was quick to put the blame on Richard, but unfortunately it didn’t matter to Anita.

“So you did her again tonight too?” Anita growled.

Jean-Claude closed his eyes. He told himself again that Anita was only acting like this because she loved him. “I did not ‘do’ her. I took a little blood from her. I fed. That was all. I have told you the truth. What you choose to believe now is beyond my control.” He waited, but Anita did not reply. After a minute or so passed, Jean-Claude grew concerned. “Ma petite?”

“I’m sending Jason back,” Anita announced abruptly. “I don’t want you using that woman. She tried to bimbo her way into Richard‘s pants for status, and now she wants to get into yours.”

Jean-Claude sighed, half in relief, half in amusement. “There is no need for you to be jealous, ma petite,” he reassured her, pouring warmth and seduction into his voice now. “I have no intention of falling for any of her ambitious ploys. I am simply using her, and even that is only temporary.”

“Which is why I’m sending back Jason,” Anita persisted. “I don’t want you using her.”

“Non, Jason needs to stay with you, ma petite,” Jean-Claude told her, trying not to make his command sound any stronger than a suggestion. “I can assure you, Paris poses no threat to you.”

Anita seemed to take a couple of deep breaths as if trying to calm down before replying. “You let her seduce you….”

Jean-Claude shook his head. “She didn’t seduce me.”

“Oh, so you admit that you seduced her?”

“I didn’t--I wasn’t going to use her because I knew you would read more into it than there was,” Jean-Claude argued.

“Then why did you use her?”

“I needed to. I merely suggested…” Jean-Claude let his voice trail off as he realized Paris had convinced him to use her, not the other way around. He sighed. “Well, she suggested--”

Anita laughed suddenly, but it was obviously not from mirth. “She’s already manipulating you! You‘re so blinded by lust for her, you can‘t even see it!”

Jean-Claude leaned back in his chair feeling exhausted. “Ma petite, she was only doing what a pomme de sang is supposed to do. She was satisfying my needs.” After he had said that out loud, he wanted to bite off his tongue.

“Yeah, I can tell from the pictures she took real good care of your needs,” Anita answered, her voice so chillingly calm now, it raised the hair on the back of Jean-Claude’s neck. “You know what, go to hell.” With that she hung up.

Jean-Claude stared back at the buzzing phone in his hand blankly. Was there even a moment of that conversation in which he was in control?

Replacing the phone on the charger, Jean-Claude rose to his feet. There was no reason to linger here. He wasn’t getting anything done anyway. He thought of Asher back at the Circus and longed to go to him for solace. Maybe he would have some insight as to what Jean-Claude could do to smooth things out with Anita. It would be difficult to say the least with her being as far away as she was.

*****

Asher wasn’t at the Circus of the Damned when Jean-Claude returned and belatedly, he realized Asher was probably unhappy with him as well and had left.

Paris was there however. She greeted Jean-Claude in a cream-colored negligee as he came into the living room. She was smiling brightly and eagerly sidled up to him. Her behavior reminded Jean-Claude of an overly-affectionate puppy’s that had been left alone too long. Considering Paris’ duel nature, the irony of the similarity was not lost on the vampire. If she presently had been sporting a tail, he was certain it would be wagging zealously.

Indifferent to her cheerfulness, Jean-Claude regarded her passively and continued on to his bedroom. It didn’t surprise him that she trotted after him.

“You’re back early,” Paris announced, insisting on helping Jean-Claude out of his jacket. “I was told you’d be gone the rest of the night.”

There was something in the tone of her voice that told Jean-Claude she was now under the impression he’d returned early to be with her.

Tactfully, he cleared his throat. “I will not need you the remainder of the night,” he said as gently as he could. “I wish to be left alone. You may leave.”

After all, there was any number of enjoyable things he could do alone. Masturbate, for one. He’d think of Anita wearing a negligee much like the one Paris was wearing, sliding her full round breasts over his bare abdomen, the hard points of her nipples tickling his skin as she descended to her knees in front of him. Jean-Claude choked back an audible moan. He shifted his weight to one leg to relieve the pressure he was suddenly feeling between them.

Paris’ smile twitched as if on the verge of collapsing entirely. “Are you sure? You barely took two sips from my arm earlier. I thought you might want to…” her eyes wandered to his bed, “…get into it a little more.”

Jean-Claude opened his mouth to speak, and then paused as his mind flooded with images of the two of them tangled in his sheets with their limbs and bodies intimately entwined. His face was buried in Paris’ long, tanned neck as he fed with uninhibited zeal, from her blood as well as her body, his hips pumping hers with practiced rhythm that made her moan in ecstasy.

These new images came to him so unexpectedly, for a moment, Jean-Claude wondered if the thoughts were actually his. Perhaps there was a little more power in Paris’ suggestion than simple persuasion. Now he gazed at her somewhat suspiciously, reaching out with his senses to draw in any traces of preternatural enchantment. Feeling nothing, he calmed, and dismissed his erotic mental meandering as simply missing Anita. He did miss her, that was obvious.

“No,” Jean-Claude pronounced definitively. “I’m fine, thank you. Now…please leave.”

But even as he spoke those words, something came over him again and his body seemed to cry out in protest. The temptation to take Paris up on her offer lingered in his mind. They were completely alone in the privacy of his own bedroom where he could lock the door, far from clicking cameras and jealous lovers.

Obediently, Paris turned to leave, but Jean-Claude stayed her with his hand on her arm. She looked back at him with wide-eyed innocence.

“Yes Master?” she asked, that smoky, sultry voice of hers sending shivers down Jean-Claude’s spine.

Jean-Claude stared deeply into her eyes. He drew her closer, wrapping his arms around her back, locking her body against his.

“I am your master,” he whispered, feeling suddenly intoxicated by the musky perfume she was wearing. He nuzzled her neck, grazing his aching fangs along her throbbing veins. His hands roved her curves with increasing enthusiasm.

“Oh, yes,” Paris sighed back. Her hands slid up Jean-Claude’s arms as she pressed her full, round breasts into his chest.

The negligee she was wearing was flimsy and thin. Jean-Claude only meant to move the neckline aside, but instead, cleanly rent the fabric apart, exposing a fair amount of flawless, golden skin underneath. Pushing the negligee’s strap down her arm, Jean-Claude dragged his mouth along her bared shoulder.

Paris pulled away from him, pirouetting around him and urging him closer to the silk-adorned bed.

“I do need you,” Jean-Claude said in a barely audible voice. He stepped towards her outstretched arms, wanting only to wallow in the heat of her voluptuous form.

“Then take me,” Paris responded breathily. “I’m your pomme de sang, Jean-Claude. I’m here exclusively for your pleasure. Use me tonight and you’ll be fulfilled beyond your need.” She was already undressing in anticipation, pulling the torn negligee over her head.

Jean-Claude watched momentarily mesmerized as she shimmied out of her lace panties, but then he realized he‘d yet to take anything of his own off. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and forcefully pulled it off. Paris playfully kicked her panties aside and Jean-Claude unzipped his pants.

How much easier his existence would be if Paris were his lover instead of Anita, Jean-Claude thought unexpectedly. She was so uninhibited and willing to please. She would obey him without question and be available to him every hour of the night.

Just as suddenly at that train of thought began, it screeched to a halt. His rationality came thundering back into his senses like a sword-wielding warrior, hacking away the cloudy nonsense. Easier, maybe, but since when was a love worth having easy? It wa