“I can’t,” I answered. “I never could, nor will I try to. There are too many unexplained occurrences in the world. Three, five-thousand-year-old civilizations with what appear to be aliens in their art. Unexplained phenomenons. Magnetic forces in the Bermuda Triangle that make planes and ships disappear.”
“I often believed aliens brought us here long ago,” Magnus said with a chuckle. “There’s been a human belief in dragons for millennia.”
“I wouldn’t say no to that theory,” I said slowly. “Could there be other shifters in the world? I don’t know. I’ve got enough shit in my life to be worrying about where we’d come from.”
At the flicker in his eyes and the way he looked down, I’d touched a nerve.
“Sorry, I’m not talking about you or what we’re doing,” I went on quietly. “I was talking about work, paying bills, getting by as a human when I want to go full on dragon mode. Always being stalked by crazy dudes, needing to wave my stick to make them go away.”
I liked his sudden boyish and kind grin. It made me feel special, when no one ever made me feel special before. Unable to help myself, I smiled back.
“I hear you,” he said. “I feel the same way. Wanting to stalk you, that is.”
I laughed. “Don’t make me smack you with my stick.”
“I’ve learned my lesson on that score.”
The waiter returned with the wine and set the glasses on tiny cocktail napkins. “I’ll return to take your order.”
“I haven’t even looked at the menu yet.” I opened mine. “What do you recommend?”
“The prime rib just about melts in your mouth,” he replied. He lifted his glass. “Here’s to a great start on a new relationship.”
“Oh? A working relationship?” I lifted mine.
His grin widened. “Sure.”
We clinked glasses and sipped. The wine, both light and dry, held a slightly nutty flavor that rolled across my tongue like silk. “Oh, that’s good.” I took another.
“I’m glad you like my choice.”
“I do.”
For the first time since we’d met, when he kidnapped me, we spoke freely, honestly, about anything at all. Arnaud, his drama, his goons, never entered our conversation. Over the extravagant prime rib, we talked of our likes and dislikes, books, the nature of the universe, philosophies, and cats.
“I’m coming to believe those tabbies are siblings,” I commented, then sipped my wine. “They aren’t feral but had homes once. Maybe they were abandoned at the house.”
Magnus nodded thoughtfully. “What will you name yours?”
“I want to study his personality first,” I explained. “I’m not one to name an animal something dumb like ‘Orangy’.”
“I prefer dignified names myself,” Magnus said. “Since mine’s a female, I think I’ll call her Ginger.”
“Quite appropriate.” I nodded. “She looks like a Ginger.”
“You should name yours Roger.”
I rolled my eyes. “Um, nope. His name will pop up in my mind at the right time.”
“As in, he’ll tell you his name?”
“Sure. Cats are telepathic.”
When the waiter arrived to pour more wine and clear the table, Magnus said, “Might we get the check? Thanks.”
I took a drink of the fresh glass. “Oh, man, this is going to my head. I’m glad you’re driving.”
“Does this mean I get to take advantage of you?”
