Ellard made the mistake of breathing through his nose.He snorted back a tickle and commenced breathing through his mouth.Once certain he wouldn’t sneeze, he spoke.“Is the new hotel ready for guests?”
“Not yet,” Shiloh said.“But we need to plan.”
“The workers who have come in from other planets enjoy visiting the colored sands,” the councilor Jarlath had placed in charge of tourism spoke up.“The problem we’ve had is that outsiders have heard of the war between us and the House of Cawdor.They worry they might find themselves in the middle of renewed violence.They don’t want their children playing with ours in case our kittens shift and injure them.”
Shiloh snorted his disbelief, arms folded across his beefy chest.“Our young never shift at that age.”
“I told them that, but they refused to believe me,” the councilor said.“I don’t know how the rumors started.”
Lynx sniffed his arm and grimaced.“What else?Any ideas?”
“The House of Cawdor is holding a gambling tournament soon.It’s a pity we couldn’t entice some of their clientele over here.It’s a short hop.”Shiloh steepled his fingers, his brow furrowed in thought.
A squeak from near his feet drew Ellard’s attention, but he mentally shrugged when it ceased.The herd of women inhabiting the castle was making him jumpy.Gweneth and the others wouldn’t dare interrupt the council meeting.
“Camryn informed me the hotel furnishings are ordered, and some of the shipments are arriving already.”Ry tapped his fingers on the tabletop.“They’re furnishing several of the rooms this cycle.”
Ah, his question answered.Gweneth was busy this morn.One less thing to upset his equilibrium.He frowned, still not understanding why the woman stalked him.She was beautiful—a young shifter female with everything in her future.He was bodyguard to Prince Jarlath, nothing in the looks department, and to top that he’d lost an arm during the war.He had nothing to offer a woman like Gweneth.
Nothing.
He’d tried to tell her.He’d tried to ignore her, and now he resorted to skulking around the castle and fleeing the sec he caught a glimpse of her.After this perfume incident, he intended to dodge her friends too.
Ry leaned back, and his gel-seat strained to conform to his relaxed posture, creaking and groaning and popping.Finally, Ry straightened and the overworked gel-chair sighed.“What about running fitness and security courses?Our soldiers are well-regarded.Perhaps we could pass some of our skills on to others who require them.Run a training school for civilians.”
Lynx noted the suggestion on his comp pad.“Anything else?”
“We’re not used to doing this type of thing.”A junior councilor tugged his black beard then reached for his goblet of cacjuice.Spots of the pale green juice spilled when he sneezed without warning.He wiped his nose in a fastidious manner, patted the splashes dry with a kerchief and continued.“It’s a foreign concept.”
“Maybe so.”Shiloh scowled.“But we need to change and adapt.It’s necessary to our survival.”
The strange squeak sounded again, and Ellard cocked his head, attempting to locate the source.
“Maybe we should ask for suggestions from the people,” Shiloh suggested.
Their oldest councilor—the last remaining from Jarlath and Lynx’s father’s era—gasped, his stern expression appalled.“Ask the people?We’ve never done that before.Who knows what idiocy they’d propose.”
Another high squeak.
“What is that noise?”Ry asked.“Has Royal managed to get loose again?”The rare calibore—a type of ape with shaggy black fur, big fluffy ears, sharp teeth and a tail—had attached himself to Jannike during her abduction and transportation to Manx Two.He’d become a firm favorite with the castle residents and visitors.
“If the furry creature is here, the perfume isn’t bothering him,” the tourism councilor commented dryly.
“When he’s not in the forest with Kelvin, he’s with Jannike.”Lynx bent to lift the cloth and peer under the table.“Ah!Not Royal.”
A woman burst from beneath the table, right near Ellard.Big green eyes, sultry pink lips, a tiny black cat tattoo on her right cheek and black hair pulled into a tight hairstyle that confined and flattened the long, luxurious locks.Immediately he wanted to touch, to loosen her hair, and he found himself reaching out with his good hand before his brain jerked into gear.
“What the devil are you doing here?”He countered his initial instinct with anger.“This is a council meeting.Men only.”
Shiloh smothered a grin and helped her to stand.His brother’s humor poked at Ellard’s bad mood, making it swell within his chest, and the touchy-feely stuff.He hated seeing another man touching her, and he loathed that he thought that way.What did he need with a woman?Faithless, treacherous creatures.
What had Mareeka called him?A monstrosity too ugly to view for any length of time.
The memory balanced some of the angst inside him, placed him on firmer footing.He had no need of a mate, and even if he were in the market, he wouldn’t take one as young and desirable as Gweneth.Most of the young feline women kept their distance and treated him like a dangerous species.Gweneth didn’t behave in the same manner, which confused him.
“That is a silly rule since it is obvious none of you have a brain.”Her chin jutted upward in clear challenge.
“Silence,” Ellard roared and leapt to his feet.“Ry should discipline you more often since you clearly don’t know the correct manner to behave.A kitten is better disciplined.”
