I felt his hand slide clumsily over my thigh, as if he couldn't quite make his hand work just yet. He brushed between my legs. I said in a voice that was half-laughing, «Not again, not yet.»
He raised his hand so I could see that he had blood on his fingertips. «Did I hurt you?» His voice sounded surer of itself and less post-coital.
«Yes, and no,» I said.
He managed to raise himself up on one elbow. «You're bleeding, Anita. I hurt you.»
I looked at his fingertips. «A little, but it's a good hurt. I'll remember what we did with every ache.»
His face closed down, and he stared at the blood on his fingertips as if it were an accusation.
«Richard, it was wonderful, amazing. I didn't know you'd been holding so much of yourself back.»
«I should have kept holding back.»
I touched his shoulder. «Richard, don't do this. Don't make it bad when it was good.»
«You're bleeding, Anita. I fucked you so hard you're bleeding.»
I thought of one thing to say, but wasn't sure if it would make things better or worse.
He moved away from me to sit on the edge of the tub with his legs dangling over the side. He washed the blood away.
«I'll be all right, Richard, honest.»
«You can't know that,» he said.
I rose, and I ached, deep inside my body. Maybe more than normal. I rose enough to see the blood on the marble, but there wasn't much of it. «If this is all the blood, then I'll be fine.»
«Anita, you've never bled after sex before.»
Truth time; I prayed that it was the right choice. «Yeah, I have.»
He looked at me, frowning. «No, you haven't.»
«Yeah, I have, just not with you.»
He started to say, «Who… Micah?» He said the word like he wasn't happy to say it.
«Yes.»
«This much blood?» he asked.
I nodded and sat up; now that the endorphins were leaving at a rapid rate, the marble felt cold. I held my hand out to him. «Help me back into the tub.»
He took my hand almost automatically, as if he did it because it was there more than because he wanted to. He helped me slide back into the tub. I made a small pain noise. I was hurt, no doubt about that, but I wasn't broken. I'd had this hurt before with Micah. I didn't want it this rough every night, but I could do it, and when it was the right time, it was amazing.
«Has he hurt you this badly before?»
«It isn't hurt the way you say it, Richard. I'm not hurt, I hurt; it's not the same thing.»
«I don't see the difference.»
I lay back in the water, easing into it, letting the abused parts of my anatomy relax a little at a time. Strangely, the ache inside me was the only ache. The muscle soreness was gone, washed away on a wave of sex and the ardeur. Good for that.
«I wanted to fuck you, Anita. I wanted to fuck you as hard and fast as I could, and I did.»
«Didn't it feel wonderful?» I asked.
He nodded. «It did, but if I hurt you, then think what I could do to someone who doesn't have vampire marks to make them harder to hurt. Think what I could do to a human woman.»
I settled back into the water enough to wet all my hair, then sat up so I could look at him. He looked so sad, lost. «I've heard the stories, Richard. Broken pelvises, crushed organs, women and men who needed surgery to put themselves back together.»
«When we're with humans we always have to be careful of them.»
«So I've been told.»
«I didn't know if you could take this, Anita. I didn't know if I would break you. The thought that I might fuck you until I pushed my way into parts of your body that should never be touched, excited me. I didn't want to do it, but the possibility of it excited the hell out of me. How sick is that?»
I blinked at him, not sure what to say. «I'm not sure it's sick at all. You didn't do it. You just thought about it. The thought excited you, but you didn't rip me apart to make it come true. I think maybe it's like a lot of violent fantasies: if the reality happened, it wouldn't be sexy at all, but the thought of it, a violent thought in the middle of sex, can drive the sex to the next level.»
«Weren't you afraid of me?»
«No.»
«Why not?»
«I trusted you not to hurt me,» I said.
He took off the condom and said, «There's blood on the condom.»
«I'm not hurt, Richard, or at least no more than I wanted to be.» Truthfully, maybe I was more hurt than I wanted to be. A pleasant ache between the legs was fine, but I was starting to hurt somewhere close to my belly button. That usually meant you'd overdone it. But I couldn't say that to Richard.
He looked at me. «You flinched just now.»
I closed my eyes and floated back in the water. «I don't know what you're talking about,» I said.
I felt the water move, knew he'd gotten in the tub. I sat up, but he was already standing over me. There was something menacing about the way he loomed over me. Most of the time I could ignore how physically large he was, in every way, but sometimes, like now, he made me see it. He wasn't trying to be intimidating, or I didn't think he was. Not on purpose, anyway.
That otherworldly energy began to flow off him as if the water were getting reheated. I moved so I was sitting against the side of the tub. Standing up wouldn't help; he'd still loom over me. Besides, my stomach, or rather lower things, were beginning to cramp. I wasn't entirely certain I could stand up without bending over. That wouldn't help the situation. Was I hurt? Was I really hurt? Not a question I wanted to have to ask.
«You're hurt, really hurt, aren't you?»
His question was a little too close to what I'd just thought. We could accidentally share thoughts and feelings. I fought to put the shields back in place. Sex can bring them crashing down.
He knelt in the water, putting an arm on either side of me. He leaned in, the heat of his power beating against my body. It made things low in my body tense, and that hurt. I fought not to make little pain sounds. I managed not to, but Richard put his face against the side of mine and whispered, «Are you hurt?»
«Please, Richard.» I whispered it.
«Are… you… hurt?» His power pulsed through me, and this time I made a small sound, but not a good one.
«You're going to raise my wolf if you don't control your power better.» I said it through gritted teeth. One, I was hurting; two, I was getting angry.
He leaned in against my face and drew a deep breath. He was smelling my skin. His power was like a warm, wet heat pushing against me. I was shielding as hard as I could against him, his power, all of it. I thought of rock, stone walls to hide behind and put them in his metaphysical way.
He spoke against my cheek, his breath hot on my skin. «Pain has a smell to it, did you know that?»
«No. Yes.» I'd smelled it myself once, twice, when the beast was first prowling around inside me.
«Are… you… hurt?» He said each word, slowly, carefully, his lips brushing against my cheek as he spoke.
Another cramp hit me, and I fought not to bend over my stomach. I fought to sit in the water, with him pressed against me, and not react. He'd implied he could smell I was hurt. Most lycanthropes can smell a lie. I said the only thing I could say: «Yes.»
He kissed my cheek and said, «Thank you.» Then he stood up and climbed out of the tub. He reached for one of the towels in the pile that always seemed to be in the bathroom.
«Where are you going?» I asked, though frankly I was ready for him to go.
«Away from you,» he said.
I let myself fold over the next cramp. I didn't fight that it hurt. He wanted to be a bastard, fine. When I looked up again, he had the towel wrapped around his waist. He'd swallowed all that otherworldly energy, as if when he covered his nakedness, he'd covered more than just his body.
«I'll send for a doctor.»
«No, not yet.»
«Why not yet?»
«Because it may pass.»
He frowned at me. «You sound like you've done this before.»
«I've had cramping before—not this bad, truthfully—but it faded.»
«Micah.» He said the name like it was a curse.
«Yes.» I was tired of protecting Richard's ego. Frankly, in that moment, I was tired of Richard.
«He always gets there before I do.»