I touched his face with the edge of the gun, moving his face where I could see it. His eyes had gone drowning blue. "No necking," I said. I meant that. I'd only volunteered once for blood donation and that was when he was dying. I did not share bodily fluids with the Master of the City.
He rubbed his cheek against the gun. "I had something a bit lower in mind."
He ducked his head to my collarbone, licking down my skin. For a second I wondered how low he was planning on going, then I pushed him off of me.
"I don't think so," I said, half-laughing.
"Do you feel better now, ma petite?"
I stared at him for a heartbeat, then laughed. I did. "You are a devious son of a bitch, did you know that?"
"I've been told that before," he said, smiling.
The police had pushed the crowd back, and the limo moved forward. "You did that just to cheer me up." I sounded almost accusatory.
He widened his eyes. "Would I do such a thing?"
I stared at him and felt the smile slide from my face. I really looked at him for a moment, not just as the world's greatest lust object, but as him, Jean-Claude. The Master of the City was worried about my feelings. I shook my head. Was he becoming nicer, or was I just fooling myself?
"Why so solemn, ma petite?"
I shook my head. "The usual, trying to figure out how sincere you are."
His smile widened. "I am always sincere, ma petite, even when I lie."
"Which is what makes you so good at it," I said.
He nodded his head once, almost a bow. "Exactly."
He glanced ahead of us. "We are about to embark on a sea of media, ma petite. If you could put the gun up? I think the press would find it a bit much."
"Press?" I said. "You mean local media?"
"Local, yes."
"What aren't you telling me?"
"When the door opens, take my arm and smile, please, ma petite."
I frowned at him. "What is about to happen?"
"You are about to be introduced to the world."
"Jean-Claude, what are you up to?"
"This is not my doing, ma petite. I do not like the limelight quite this much. The vampire council has chosen me to be their representative to the media."
"I know you had to come out of the casket to the local vampires after you won your last challenge, but isn't it dangerous? I mean you've been pretending to be some mysterious master's number-one flunkie. It's kept you safe from outside challengers."
"Most masters use a stalking horse, ma petite. It cuts down on challenges and human assassins."
"I know all that, so why are you going public?"
"The council believes that skulking in the shadows gives ammunition to our detractors. Those of us who would make good media fodder have been ordered into the light, as it were."
I stared at him. "How into the light?"
"Put the gun away, ma petite. The doorman will open the door and there will be cameras." I glared at him, but I slid the Seecamp into my purse.
"What have you gotten me into, Jean-Claude?"
"Smile, ma petite, or at least do not frown." The door opened before I could say anything else. A man in a tux held the door. The flash of lightbulbs was blinding, and I knew it had to bother his eyes more than mine. He was smiling as he held a hand back for me. If he could stare that much light in the face without blinking, I could be gracious. We could always fight later.
I stepped out of the limo and was glad I was holding his hand. Flashbulbs were everywhere like tiny suns blasting off. The crowd surged forward, microphones shoved at us like knives. If he hadn't been holding my hand tight, I'd have crawled back into the limo. I moved closer to him, just to be able to keep my feet. Where the hell was crowd control?
A microphone nearly touched my face. A woman's voice yelled from far too close, "Is he good in bed? Or would that be coffin?"
"What?" I said.
"Is he good in bed?" There was a moment of near silence, while everyone waited for my answer. Before I could open my mouth and say something scathing, Jean-Claude moved in, graceful as always.
"We do not kiss and tell, do we, ma petite?" His French accent was the thickest I'd ever heard it.
"Ma petite-is that your pet name for her?" a man's voice.
"Oui," he said.
I looked up at him, and he leaned down as if to kiss my cheek. He whispered, "Glare at me later, ma petite. There are cameras everywhere."
I wanted to say that I didn't give a damn, but I did. I mean, I think I did. I felt like a rabbit caught in headlights. If the assassin had jumped out with a gun at that moment, I'd have stood there and let him shoot me. That thought, more than anything else, brought me back to myself, helped me to think again. I started trying to see past the lights, the microphones, a few tape recorders, and video cameras. I caught at least two major network emblems on the cameras. Shit.
Jean-Claude was fielding questions like a pro, smiling, gracious, the perfect vampire cover boy. I smiled and leaned into him, standing on tiptoe, putting my lips so close to his ear that I could have licked it, but I was hoping the microphones wouldn't pick up what I was saying. I was sure it looked coy and girlish as hell, but hey, nothing was perfect. I whispered, "Get me out of here now, or I pull the gun and clear a path for myself."
He laughed, and it flowed down my skin like fur, warm, and ticklish, and vaguely obscene. The reporters ooohed and aahed. I wondered if Jean-Claude's laugh worked off a recorder, or on video. That was a frightening thought.
"Oh, ma petite, you naughty girl."
I whispered, "Don't ever call me that again."
"My apologies." He smiled, waved, and began escorting me through the press of reporters. Two vampire doormen had come out to help clear our path. They were both large and muscular, and neither of them had been dead long. They looked rosy-cheeked and almost alive. They'd fed on someone tonight. But then, so had Jean-Claude. It was getting harder and harder for me to throw stones at the monsters.
The door opened, and we slipped inside. The silence was wonderful. I turned on him. "How dare you drag me into that kind of media coverage."
"It does not endanger you, ma petite."
"Had it occurred to you that if I chose Richard over you, that I might not want everybody in the world to know I was dating a vampire?"
He gave a slight smile. "Good enough to date, but not good enough to go public with?"
"We've gone to everything from the symphony to the ballet together. I'm not ashamed of you."
"Really?" The smile was gone, replaced by something else, not anger exactly, but close. "Then why are you angry, ma petite?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Truth was that I would rather not have gone quite this public, because I guess I didn't really believe I could choose Jean-Claude. He was a vampire, a dead man. In that one moment I realized how prejudiced I still was. He was good enough to date. Good enough to hold hands with, and maybe a bit more. But there was a limit. Always a point where I knew I'd say stop because he was a corpse. A beautiful corpse, but a vampire is a vampire. You couldn't really fall in love with one. You couldn't have sex with one. No way. I'd broken Jean-Claude's one rule for dating both of the boys. I'd never really given Jean-Claude the same chance that I'd given Richard. And now, with national television coverage, the bat was out of the bag. It embarrassed me that anyone would think I might actually date him. That I might actually care for a walking dead man.
The anger washed away in the knowledge that I was a hypocrite. I don't know how much of it showed on my face, but Jean-Claude cocked his head to one side. "Thoughts are flying across your face, ma petite, but what thoughts?"
I stared up at him. "I think I owe you an apology."
His eyes widened. "Then this is a truly historic occasion. What are you apologizing for?"
I wasn't sure how to put it into words. "You're right; I'm wrong."
He put his fingers to his chest, face wide with mock surprise. "You admit that you have treated me like some guilty secret, hidden away. Exiled from your true feelings while you cuddle with Richard and his living flesh."
I frowned at him. "Enough already. See if I ever give you another apology for anything."
"A dance would suffice," he said.
"I don't dance. You know that."