He swallows. “Got it. After you, uh—”
“Dorian,” I say. “Dorian Acheron.”
Recognition flashes in his gaze. Considering he went to Greywood, it’s no wonder that he’s heard of me, and the caution that quickly follows his recognition pleases me. I walk through the door, smiling at Mira, who’s reading a large plaque on the wall.
“So this is for the lions?” she asks.
Richard rushes in, closing the door behind him. “Yes, we have a nice indoor enclosure to keep them warm when the weather becomes too chilly. If you’ll follow me, you’re actually in for a real treat today, courtesy of your… boyfriend?”
“No,” Mira says, at the same time that I confirm, “Yes.”
“Um, okay,” Richard says. “Right this way, guys.” He leads us through three doorways, and into a sterile room with bright lights, wooden cubbies, and a metal sink with industrial-grade hand soap. “You’ll need to take off anything that dangles or can easily be ripped off. Sweaters, jackets, any jewelry. Then, please wash your hands, scrubbing hard for at least two minutes.”
Mira turns to me with an excited smile. “I know that protocol. We’re going to see some baby animals, aren’t we?”
I bite my bottom lip, loving the way her eyes light up with pleasure and anticipation. “Get scrubbing and you’ll find out.”
Five minutes later, the attendant moves to stand in front of a wooden door on the far wall of the room. “Okay. Inside, please do not interact with the animals unless they come to you. I will be there, as will two other very experienced handlers, so if you feel like the furry guys are getting too aggressive, let us know and we’ll safely escort you out.”
“They’re lion cubs, aren’t they?” Mira questions, bouncing on her toes. “Do we get to feed them? How old are they?”
I stroke a hand up and down her back, enjoying her little shiver. “No more questions. Richy?" I say, looking to the boy.
“It’s Richard—never mind,” he cuts off, unlocking the door. “Step right in when I open this, please. One at a time.”
Mira doesn’t need to be told twice. Richard cracks the door open just far enough to allow a person through, and she slips into the room. I follow quickly, not wanting to miss even a second of her reaction.
Her hands are pressed to her chest, her eyes are lit up with adoration, and her gaze is trained on the nest of blankets at the far side of the room, where three little lion cubs are playing with each other. Two handlers stand in the corner of the room, both women, and they smile at Mira and me, waving in greeting.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, clutching my arm. “They can’t be more than a few weeks old! How did you set this up?”
“I donated a significant sum of money and told the staff that my girlfriend is Greywood’s top animal science student, on her way to becoming a vet,” I respond.
Mira’s too delighted to dispute me calling her my girlfriend. She takes a step across the sand-dusted floor, looking like she wants to run up to the cubs and embrace them but knowing better.
Richard slips in after us, closing the door with a decisive click.
“Welcome,” one of the women says, stepping forward. “We heard you’re interested in playing with the cubs a bit today; we could use an extra set of hands feeding them.”
It appears to take Mira monumental effort not to squeal as the woman gestures to a small wooden table set with three milk-filled bottles.
The woman crosses the room, approaching Mira and me.
“I’m Sam, the head handler.” She and Mira exchange pleasant greetings, and Sam takes care to thank me for my donation.
After a minute of chit chat and asking Mira about her experience with animals, Sam briefs her on the correct way to approach the cubs and offer them milk. I lean against the wall, watching as Mira picks up one of the milk bottles and kneels on the floor not far from the cubs, patiently waiting for them to come to her.
The largest male cub turns to face her, sniffing the air. He slowly takes a step towards her, then another, padding his way over to her with a regal posture and inquisitive air. The little creature seems to like either her scent or the scent of the bottle she holds, because he wastes no time standing on her lap and butting his head against her shoulder, releasing a yip that’s presumably a request to be fed. Mira absolutely melts, eyes glittering and face warming even more. Carefully, she offers the cub the bottle. The little lion latches on quickly and easily, resting his front paws against Mira’s knees and nursing from the bottle she holds.
“Would you also like to join?” Sam asks me, her smile flirtatious and posture invitational.
“Sure,” I say casually, not smiling back. I accept the bottle she hands me and walk up to Mira, pausing when the cub she’s feeding releases the bottle and shoots me a glare. He growls at me while pawing at Mira’s leg, almost like he’s warning me away. Not from his bottle, Idon’t think, but fromher. Christ, my girl reallyisan animal whisperer—onsteroids.
Mira gives a laugh of pure delight; Sam’s eyebrows raise with faint surprise.
“Looks like Hunk likes you,” Sam says, nodding at the cub, who licks Mira’s shoulder before once again latching onto the bottle. “He’s a fiery one.”
“Animals tend to feel comfortable around me,” Mira says brightly. “Which is good, because I adore them.”
