JК
The Laughing Corpse :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 143 из 213"
"What was your fault?"
"My … powers are greater when my human servant is with me." He stared at me then. His gaze solid on my face. "With you beside me, my powers are enhanced."
"Wait, you mean like a witch's familiar?"
He cocked his head to one side, a slight smile on his face. "Yes, very close to that. I did not know you knew anything about witchcraft."
"A deprived childhood," I said. I was not going to be diverted from the important topic. "So your ability to bespell people with your eyes is stronger when I'm with you. Strong enough that without trying, you bespelled that prostitute."
He nodded.
I shook my head. "No, I don't believe you."
He shrugged, a graceful gesture on him. "Believe what you like, ma petite. It is the truth."
I didn't want to believe it. Because if it were true, then I was in fact his human servant. Not in my actions but by my very presence. With sweat trickling down my spine from the heat, I was cold. "Shit," I said.
"You could say that," he said.
"No, I can't deal with this right now. I can't." I stared up at him. "You keep whatever powers we have between us in check, okay?"
"I will try," he said.
"Don't try, dammit, do it."
He smiled wide enough to flash the tips of his fangs. "Of course, ma petite."
Panic was starting in the pit of my stomach. I gripped my hands into fists at my sides. "If you call me that one more time, I'm going to hit you."
His eyes widened just a bit, his lips flexed. I realized he was trying not to laugh. I hate it when people find my threats amusing.
He was an invasive son of a bitch; and I wanted to hurt him. To hurt him because he scared me. I understand the urge, I've had it before with other people. It's an urge that can lead to violence. I stared up at his softly amused face. He was a condescending bastard, but if it ever came to real violence between us, one of us would die. Chances were good it would be me.
The humor leaked out of his face, leaving it smooth and lovely, and arrogant. "What is it, Anita?" His voice was soft and intimate. Even in the heat and movement of this place, his voice could roll me up and under. It was a gift.
"Don't push me into a corner, Jean-Claude. You don't want to take away all my options."
"I don't know what you mean," he said.
"If it comes down to you or me, I'm going to pick me. You remember that."
He looked at me for a space of heartbeats. Then he blinked and nodded. "I believe you would.
"What was your fault?"
"My … powers are greater when my human servant is with me." He stared at me then. His gaze solid on my face. "With you beside me, my powers are enhanced."
"Wait, you mean like a witch's familiar?"
He cocked his head to one side, a slight smile on his face. "Yes, very close to that. I did not know you knew anything about witchcraft."
"A deprived childhood," I said. I was not going to be diverted from the important topic. "So your ability to bespell people with your eyes is stronger when I'm with you. Strong enough that without trying, you bespelled that prostitute."
He nodded.
I shook my head. "No, I don't believe you."
He shrugged, a graceful gesture on him. "Believe what you like, ma petite. It is the truth."
I didn't want to believe it. Because if it were true, then I was in fact his human servant. Not in my actions but by my very presence. With sweat trickling down my spine from the heat, I was cold. "Shit," I said.
"You could say that," he said.
"No, I can't deal with this right now. I can't." I stared up at him. "You keep whatever powers we have between us in check, okay?"
"I will try," he said.
"Don't try, dammit, do it."
He smiled wide enough to flash the tips of his fangs. "Of course, ma petite."
Panic was starting in the pit of my stomach. I gripped my hands into fists at my sides. "If you call me that one more time, I'm going to hit you."
His eyes widened just a bit, his lips flexed. I realized he was trying not to laugh. I hate it when people find my threats amusing.
He was an invasive son of a bitch; and I wanted to hurt him. To hurt him because he scared me. I understand the urge, I've had it before with other people. It's an urge that can lead to violence. I stared up at his softly amused face. He was a condescending bastard, but if it ever came to real violence between us, one of us would die. Chances were good it would be me.
The humor leaked out of his face, leaving it smooth and lovely, and arrogant. "What is it, Anita?" His voice was soft and intimate. Even in the heat and movement of this place, his voice could roll me up and under. It was a gift.
"Don't push me into a corner, Jean-Claude. You don't want to take away all my options."
"I don't know what you mean," he said.
"If it comes down to you or me, I'm going to pick me. You remember that."
He looked at me for a space of heartbeats. Then he blinked and nodded. "I believe you would.