I thought about it for another minute, and then said, “Okay.”
“Now that’s an okay that really means okay, not that okay that women use when it means everything but okay.” I had to laugh then, because he was absolutely right.
I gazed up at him as the laughter filled his face, and just loved him. The day had sucked, but Jean-Claude made it suck a lot less, and that was what love was supposed to do. It was supposed to make things better, not worse
Laurell K. HamiltonI knew without doubt that if any more of the vampires tried to attack us I’d kill them, too, regardless of apparent age, race, sex, or religious affiliations. I was an equal-opportunity executioner; I killed everybody.
Laurell K. HamiltonWe are not made up only of our light and happiness but also of darkness and sorrow. To deny the darkness of yourself is to deny half of who you are, and when you love, truly love, you need to love the whole person not just the part that smiles and waves, but the part that thinks murderous thoughts and knows that pain is both pleasure and temptation, but still thinks puppies are really cute.
Laurell K. HamiltonWas I his? Was he mine? Fuck, I didn’t know. How could I not know after more than a year? How could I not know the answer to this? What the fuck was wrong with me? What the fuck was wrong… with me? With… him and me, with us? No, with me. With me. What was wrong with me?
Laurell K. HamiltonIf I don't say it enough, Jean-Claude, I love you, I love seeing your face across the table while we eat, and watching you root at Cynric's football games, and watching you read bedtime stories to Matthew when he stays with us, and a thousand surprising things, all of it, its you, and I love you."
"You will make me cry."
"A smart friend told me that it's okay to cry, sometimes you're so happy it spills out your eyes.
I am not always certain that it is I who am the better person, ma petite, but together we are the better person.
Laurell K. HamiltonHe wrapped his hand around mine and moved it from his lips, laying a gentle kiss on my fingers as he did it. ‘When I saw you on the television bleeding and hurt I knew you would not die, because I could feel how hurt you were, and I knew we had power to heal you and bring you safely home to me, to us, but it wasn’t enough, ma petite.’ He pressed my hand to his chest. ‘I needed to feel this. I needed to touch your skin, kiss your lips, hold you as close as I could. I would survive your death physically, I believe there is enough power now for that, but my heart …’ He raised my hand and kissed it. ‘My heart, it beats for you, Anita Blake. If there were a way for us to marry without the other men in our lives feeling excluded, I would ask it of you.
Laurell K. HamiltonJean-Claude’s eyes widened just a bit. ‘Ma petite, you have had a busy night, I see.’ His French accent was as thick as I’d heard it in a while, which meant he was feeling strong emotions that he couldn’t quite hide, but he was trying. I appreciated the effort, because the accent alone meant that what he wanted to say was his version of, You are covered in blood and worse, which means you were in horrible danger and probably nearly died … again! How can you keep risking yourself like that when I love you so much?
Laurell K. HamiltonLet's fool around."
"And then?" he asked, voice low.
"When it's time, take blood, and then let's fuck."
He gave a surprised burst of laughter. "Ma petite, you are such a sweet-talker, how can I refuse?
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