As he showed Jocelyn how to sit cross-legged on the cushions, I stepped down into the pit—and immediately began to sneeze.
“Oh dear,” the old man sighed and waved toward a table along the wall with a gilded tissue box. “You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”
“I don’t think so.” I grabbed some tissues anyhow. “I’ve never been before.”
“Well, my precious pootikins spends most of her time resting here—this is her pit, after all. She’s shy around strangers, but she’ll be joining us for tea, I’m certain of it.”
“You said you had more than one cat, Augustus?” Jocelyn asked politely, seeming at ease as she matched his lounging stance. “You said you had to walk thecats.”
“Oh yes, this is my other baby, Sir Mountbatten Remmington-Smythe, Esquire.”
With that, Frapp reached to one side and scooped up a small pile of black silk, which turned out to be a feline. Of course, it wasn’t clear itwasa cat until the thing screeched, twisted, and bit Frapp on his wrist.
“Oh, naughty boy,” the old male scolded, draping the cat around his shoulders like a stole and reaching for a napkin to press against his scratched-up skin. “Monty is still new, he’s only been living with Melissa and I for a few months, and he’s getting used to sharing his space.”
Jocelyn nodded. “Melissa is your wife?”
“Oh, goodness, no,” the old man laughed. “I never married.”
“But you said you had a granddaughter—” Jocelyn began, just as a low growl sounded from behind her.
I’d spent almost two decades living in the human’s world, but I’d been born in a place where danger—including from wild animals—was very much a thing. That’s what myKteerwas for; it was the primitive part of me that was concerned with keeping me alive and making sure I could pass my genes on.
It was the reason I shot to my feet, my claws extending to stand over Jocelyn, protecting her from—from whateverthatwas.
“Oh, there she is now!” Frapp exclaimed. “Melissa, pootikins, come meet our guests. Jocelyn—it’s okay to call you Joceyln, right my dear?—Jocelyn is going to tell me why I’m making a mess of my family’s property.”
Jocelyn made a sound that might’ve been an objection, might’ve been fear…because at that moment, a full-grown fuckingtigerghosted into the room. Thefact she was wearing a fancy bow over one ear and wore a collar studded with diamonds and twinkling bells did not detract from the fact she was agodsdamned tiger.
“Son of abitch,” I muttered, turning my body to protect Jocelyn as the thing nonchalantly padded across the tile and climbed into the conversation pit. The black cat around Frapp’s neck lifted its head enough to hiss at the newcomer, who lowered herself to curl around Mr. Frapp’s back.
And Jocelyn began to giggle.
“Well, Brakkor.” She twisted to grin up at me. “If you weren’t allergic to cats before, Melissa is enough to change your mind.”
My glare was interrupted by another batch of sneezes, which killed my threatening vibe completely. I pulled out the tissues and sank down beside her, warily watching the felines, who gave no indication they cared about any of us.
With a practiced flourish, Frapp pulled his long sleeves back and reached for the steaming tea kettle. “Now, my dear, what did you and that delicious specimen offriendwant to bitch at me about?”
Jocelyn’s scent turned embarrassed as she glanced at me, and I could tell she was going to start sputtering and being polite. So I slowly raised a sardonic brow, challenging her to say what she meant. When she frowned, I mouthed, “Asshole,” and her eyes widened.
Her lips curled upward on one side, and she turned back to the old male with a deep breath.
“Augustus, the Eastshore Lighthouse is incredibly important historically.”
“Oh, I know, love.” He pushed a tiny tea cup across the table to sit in front of her. “Don’t drink that yet, it needs to steep.” While he busied himself pouring one for me—who knew there was this much ceremony in tea?—he continued. “My great-great-great-great grandfather—wait, was that fourgreatsor five? It was supposed to be five. Jerathmial Frapp’s father owned the land the lighthouse was built on, and when he grew up, he became one of the first keepers. It was his grandson who bought the land back, but we’ve always maintained it—it’s part of the contract with the state.”
Jocelyn was shaking her head. “There are far more efficient ways of warning ships away?—”
“It’shistory, my dear,” he gasped, his hand fluttering near his chest as his tiger raised her head to glare—beneath that ridiculous bow—at us. “My family history!”
“Then you understand how important the foundation of the lighthouse is.” Jocelyn launched into an explanation of the building techniques and the lifestyles of the early keepers, to explain why burying the foundation with cement would cause harm. It was the same lecture she gave me last night, and I could tell Frapp was impressed. She finished with, “So you see, your current course of action could result in the irrevocable harm to generations of your family’s history, and Eastshore history in general.”
Frapp’s bushy white brows had risen as he sipped at the teacup he’d cradled in his hand during her explanation,and now he glanced at me. “Her mind is just as attractive as the rest of her.”
I grinned in agreement. “She’s right about the erosion, too. You hired the company I work for in order to firm up the foundation, but the erosion isn’t going to stop. We can stabilize the base, but not the land. Eastshore Lighthouse will still fall into the ocean one day.”
Frapp hummed as he sipped his tea, then straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath. “So what do you propose I do instead?”
