However, the events were perfect examples of what our badass kitty mate can do, and the boys at the Company were more than pleased. They didn’t even pull Taurus off active duty, though I had to hear the long, colorful history of his stepping over the boundaries again. If I were less even-tempered, I would have told him that what he’d found wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg on our furry fraulein, but I didn’t need to. They seem to have the 411 on her and have adjusted her missions.
If there’s a rule to surviving the Company, it’s this: you keep your head down and your fangs sheathed, unless you want people to notice you. Taurus, for all his feral bravado, had never cared much for blending in. His reputation preceded him—every office, every watering hole, every after-action debrief. He was the Company’s favorite cautionary tale, its unofficial mascot for ‘Things Not to Do,’ and he wore the notoriety like a tailored suit. Maybe it was genetic. Or maybe, as Mikhail liked to claim, he was bred for chaos and had simply decided to make it his brand. What I know for sure is that living with Taurus, even on the best days, is like living on the edge of your own teeth.
One misstep and someone’s losing an arm.
After Deli entered his life, I expected things to get worse. Taurus and new attachments were a chemical reaction: add fuel, watch the inferno. But instead, he settled. Not docility, not the quietude of a tamed dog, but the high-voltage, dangerous equilibrium of a predator who’s found his mate and is circumnavigating the world with her teeth in his collar. I could see it in the way he moved—fewer sharp angles, more prowling grace, less volatility and more focus. He’d still kill you for looking at him wrong, but he’d do it with a kind of practiced patience, as if he’d found a higher purpose for the violence. It was unsettling, how much the change suited him.
We’d all noticed. The Company speculated, as the Company does, but none of them had the context, the inside view. I did, and it made me uneasy in ways I hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t failure, or falling in line, or even the softening of a killer’s edge. It was the way Taurus seemed to have found a reason not to die. It’s not something you expect from people like us.
We’re supposed to burn out, not simmer.
But when I found him after the call today, my whole world narrowed to one axis. Taurus was leaning against the bed like it owed him money, boots up on the bedside table casually. He looked amazing in Dab’s new concoction, and all my anger began to fade as we stared at one another. I stopped at the threshold, momentarily stunned. He was in a state of dangerous repose, a weapon on display.
And he joked with me, sharing the information he knew and fobbing off his possible punishment so we could leave. I knew that meant he was more concerned about getting to Deli than his own skin—which is something I wouldn’t have expected until now.
So we apperated to the main room of theMaison, showing up exactly where I knew we’d find someone waiting… the bar.
Before I can say anything, Rafe snakes an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him. The heat of his body was shocking, even through layers of clothing. His other hand tipped my chin up so I had no choice but to meet his gaze.
“Looking good, Blade. Bloody hell,” he gives me a fangy grin.
I grin saucily, enjoying the feel of his hands on my skin and the snakeskin, knowing he likes it just from being pressed so close. Writhing closer, I look into his eyes, feeling our rings heat on ourhands. You gotta love that muse magick. “Hey, there, long hair. You’re looking rather killy yourself.” I pull back hard, pretending to study the look in its entirety. “Love the hair. Love the entire package.”
His chest rumbles up a purr, and he roams his hands over me, pretending to do the Braille thing that’s become our inside joke. My nose wrinkles as I catch the scents of arousal: mine, his, theirs... Oh, yeah. Theirs—I forgot about them. I’m not sure that they care, but when I catch a glimpse, my snake eyes widen.
Jesus H. Christ.
The spiky peacock fan hair, intricate colorful makeup, and latex on her porcelain skin along with boots that make her legs look like they start at her neck—she and I will have to have a chat later. She’s pushing the peacock backward towards something and until they take the edge off, the stoat and I might as well not exist.
I want him to myself for a while anyway, so that’s not a bad thing. Except I notice that she’s pushing the bird towards a door with a sign on it, and I thought she said they would mark all the magick rooms. “Hey, guys, that’s not normal—Taurus! Deli! That’s one of the...”
It’s not like they can hear anything right now. They’re in the primal zone and words are useless. Being the stoat he is, my mate doesn’t lift a finger to help; he watches it unfold. He pulls me closer as we watch them stumble into Satan knows what. Turning, I look over my shoulder at him. “I guess we won’t warn them then?”
He looks down, clinging to me. His lips curve up in a devilish grin. “You’re bloody right. They can handle themselves in the...”He squints at the door and then bursts out laughing. “... room they’ve stumbled into. You’re not going anywhere out of the range of your duties to your husband.”
Laughing, I lift my arms and reach back, stretching and rubbing against him as my fingers link behind his neck. “Of course not, long hair. You asked for a bodyguard and you got one. Just think of me as a shield and weapon.”
I hear him rumble and it makes me smile. “As long as you do it long distance and no one lays a hand on you.”
Hissing a bit, I sigh. I’m as much a killer as my mate, though more cold-blooded than primal. The way to my heart is through bloody carcasses and he’s in my heart. “Right back at you, long hair.”
We’re a hell of a pair.
The Cat Meets The Man In The Mirror
DELILAH
Ifeel the power surge in the room as we tumble through the door.
It swings shut—a fact which should have tipped me off that we’ve made a wrong turn. None of the proper rooms in my house have self-closing doors, only the ones I enchanted for the party. I should have realized that right away, but all I can focus on now is kissing him, my hands roaming over his curves and soft plains until they settle on his hips to—wait a minute.
Did I say curves and soft plains? Taurus does not have curves and anything soft. He’s tight and muscled, all lines and angles, and—my brows furrow as I look down to figure out what’s going on.
I’m looking at my own bloody face—holy buggering fuck.
My hand comes up to trace fingertips over cheekbones, and I notice they are long, thin fingers on strong-looking hands. This is so fucking weird. Blinking, I search around inside me, feelinghis demon, how his body moves, and the interesting sensation of the painted-on pants over my—okay. I am weirded out.
I roll off him, me, her... Shit, this is confusing. It’s messing with my head. Looking over at my mate in my body, I feel a very odd sensation. A growl rumbles out of my chest, and my eyes pop open.
