32
The rest of the afternoon appointments were damned boring compared to the Browns. Thank God. Nathaniel sat, quietly, in a corner of my office through all of them, just in case. Bert didn't argue now. I'd had two appointments with lawyers to discuss wills and other privileged material. They'd objected to Nathaniel, but I'd told them that legally the conversation with me wasn't privileged, so why did they care. Legally, I was right, and lawyers hate for a non-lawyer to be right. Or at least the ones I meet get cranky about it. So then, they'd wanted to know who he was and why he got to sit in on their meetings.
I told the first one, do you want this meeting, or don't you, and he let it go. The second one didn't let it go. My fingers hurt where I'd torn off the nails. My face hurt even if it was healing. My pride was hurt from having sex in the office. I was not happy, so I told the truth.
"He's here in case I have to have sex." I smiled when I said it, and knew that it didn't reach my eyes, but I didn't care.
Nathaniel had laughed and done his best to turn it into a cough.
The lawyer, of course, didn't believe me. "It was a perfectly legitimate question, Ms. Blake. I have every right to protect my client and his interests. You don't have to insult us with ridiculous lies."
So I stopped insulting him with lies, and we got down to business.
Every client, or group of clients, had to ask about Nathaniel. I told them he was everything from domestic help, to lover, to office boy, to personal assistant. Nobody liked any of my answers. I stopped caring long before I stopped seeing clients. I actually started telling the truth again, and the two new groups that I told it to got insulted. Insulting lies, they called it. Try to tell the truth, and no one believes you.
What I'd wanted to talk about all afternoon had been my beast. I had a lycanthrope right there, and we didn't get five minutes of peace to even begin the discussion. I had so many questions, and no time to ask them. Maybe that was why I was so grumpy to the clients. Maybe, or maybe I'm just grumpy. Even I wasn't sure sometimes.
It was seven o'clock by the time we climbed into the Jeep. Bert had passed my 7:30 cemetery appointment on to Manny without me having to ask. He even apologized for overbooking me. He always overbooked me, and he'd never apologized before. I think the realization that I could call a vote and get his ass kicked out had made him a better boy. Or maybe it was just the realization that I knew that any one of us could call a vote and kick him out. If Bert had any weakness in business it was assuming that those of us without a business degree didn't understand business. A little fear isn't always a bad thing. In fact, it can be downright therapeutic for some people. I didn't expect for the nicer version of Bert to last, but I'd enjoy it while I had it.
I'd actually turned off onto Olive in the direction of the city. I had just enough time to drop Nathaniel off at Guilty Pleasures and be only about fifteen minutes late for what was now my first outside appointment of the evening.
"Where are you going?" Nathaniel asked.
"Guilty Pleasures," I said.
"You need to eat first."
I glanced at him as I slowed for a stoplight. "I don't have time to eat."
"You know how when you don't feed one hunger the other hungers get worse?" His voice was so gentle when he asked, but I'd begun to mistrust that particular gentle tone. It usually meant he had a point to make, and he was right, and if I'd only accept it, I'd see that he was right, too. It usually meant that the argument was lost before it had begun. But I never considered defeat a reason not to put up a fight.
"Yeah, I know. If I deny the ardeur the beast wants meat more, or the vampire wants blood. I know all that."
"So what happens if you don't feed your human stomach, you get hungry, right?"
The light changed, and I eased forward. Saturday night traffic on Olive was always fun. "Yeah," I said. I was looking for the trick, and didn't see it.
"So if your body gets hungry for normal feeding, then doesn't that make all the other hungers worse?"
I almost hit the car in front of me, because I was staring at him. I had to slam on my brakes and endure much horn blowing, and, if it hadn't been so dark, I'm sure I'd have seen some hand gestures. "What did you say?"
"You heard me, Anita."
I sighed and started paying better attention to the traffic. But inside I was kicking myself, because it was so simple. So terribly simple. "I don't eat regularly when I'm working, and that usually means that I'm running home with the ardeur riding me every night."
"Sometimes twice a night," he said. "How much do you eat on those nights? Real food, I mean."
I tried to think, and finally had to say, "Sometimes nothing."
"It would be interesting if you kept a food diary to see if there was a correlation between starving your human body and the other hungers rising."
"You talk like you know this already," I said.
"Haven't you noticed that lycanthropes cook and eat?"
I shrugged. "I don't know." I thought about it. Richard cooked, and had always been either taking me out to dinner or wanting to cook for me. Micah cooked, though Nathaniel did more of it. We usually had a house full of wereleopards for at least one meal a day.
"You mean there's a reason that all the lycanthrope men I've dated have been domestically talented?"
He nodded. "We need to eat a nice balanced diet, heavy on protein. It helps keep the beast at bay."
I glanced at him, and in the near dark of the streetlights, he was mostly in shadow. His lavender shirt was the palest thing about him. "Why didn't someone mention this to me before?"
"We've been treating you like you're mostly human, Anita. But what I saw today..." He seemed to be searching for words. Finally he said, "If I didn't know that you were human and couldn't slip your skin and be a leopard for real, I'd think you were one of us. The way you felt, the way you fought, the way you smelled, everything was shapeshifter. You did not come off like a human. Turn into the parking lot here," he said.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because we need to talk."
I did not like the sound of that, but I turned in to the strip mall that had Culpeppers at one end. I parked in the first space I found, which was far away from any restaurant. Most of the stores were dark and closed. When I turned off the engine, the world was suddenly very quiet. The traffic on Olive was still snarling by, and in the distance was music from one of the restaurants, but inside the Jeep it was quiet. That silence that you get inside cars after dark. With one switch of a key, the space inside a car becomes private, intimate.
I turned to face him, having to work against the seat belt, but I wasn't comfortable taking if off until I was ready to get out of a car. "So, talk," I said, and my voice sounded almost normal.
He turned in his seat as far as his seat belt would allow. He knew my thing about seat belts. He faced me, putting one knee up to prop himself against the center panel. "We've been treating you like you're human, and now I'm wondering if we were right."
"You mean I'm going to shift because I'm in a new triumvirate?"
He shook his head, and his long braid slid across his lap like a heavy pet. "Maybe what happened with that has made it worse, but I think one of the reasons you haven't been able to get a handle on the ardeur is because you've been taking almost all your advice from a vampire. He doesn't need to eat, Anita. There is only blood lust and the ardeur for Jean-Claude, that's it. A lycanthrope doesn't stop being human. You still have to eat like a person, you just add the hunger of the beast, but you don't lose a hunger, you just add on to it."
I thought about it. "So you mean that since I'm already fighting off normal hunger pangs, that it makes it harder to fight the ardeur?"
He nodded, and his hair slid across his lap again, as if the braid were moving closer to me. "Yes."
I thought about it, and it seemed utterly logical. "Okay, say you're right, what do I do? I'm still running late tonight. I'm usually running late."
"Tonight we go through a drive-up. You get something easy to eat behind the wheel, and I get a salad."
I frowned at him. "A salad, why? Most drive-up salads suck."
"I have to eat before I go on tonight."
"So you'll be able to control your beast better," I said.
"Yes."
"But why a salad? I thought you needed protein."
"If you were going to take off all your clothes in front of strangers, you'd get a salad, too."
"One burger a few hours before you go on won't make you gain weight."
"No, but it might make me bloat."
"I thought only girls did that."
"Nope."
"So you're eating a salad so you'll look good tonight," I said.
He nodded, and his hair slithered over the edge of his leg and across the gear shift. I had this horrible urge to touch that heavy band of hair. A little voice in my head said, Why not? After what we'd done this afternoon, what's a little hair touching. Logical, but logic didn't have much to do with how I acted around Nathaniel.
I clasped my hands together in my lap to keep from touching him, then felt silly. What the hell was I doing anymore? I reached out to that heavy curl of hair and pet it, like it was more intimate to him than it was. The hair was soft and warm. I petted his hair while I talked. "The beast isn't conflicted about anything, is it?"
"No," he said, and his voice was both loud and soft in the quiet dark.
I began to pull his braid, gently up from around his body where the end had slid. "It's not just the hunger for flesh and blood that you fight, is it?"
"No," he said.
I got to the end of his braid and spilled it into my hands. "I thought that the hunger was the beast. That desire to chase and feed; I thought that was all of it."
"And now?" he asked.
I stroked the tip of his braid across my palm, and just that made me shiver. My voice was shaky when I said, "Richard always talked about his beast like it was all his baser impulses, you know, lust, sloth, the traditional sins, but to sin implies a knowledge of good and evil. There was no good or evil, there was nothing like normal thought. I hadn't really understood how all my thoughts are based on things. I'm always thinking about how one thing affects another. The consequences of your actions." I lifted more of his braid in my arms, and it was like holding a snake, a soft, thick serpent. I gathered his hair into my arms and let myself cuddle it against my body. I was about at the limit for the seat belt, and I wanted to be closer to him. The seat belt stayed.
I hugged an armful of his braid to my chest as I said, "I stopped thinking about the Browns' grief, their dead son. It wasn't that I chose to ignore it. I wasn't being callous, it just never entered my mind. It was just that they hurt me, and I got mad, but mad translated directly to food. If I killed them and ate them, then they couldn't hurt me anymore, and I was hungry." I met his eyes on that last word.
Some trick of reflected light made his eyes shine for a moment, like the eyes of a cat in a flashlight's beam. He turned his head, and it was gone, his eyes lost in shadow again. The turn of his head tugged on his hair, and I had a second to decide whether I would let it go, or keep it. I kept it, and it put a strain down the line of his hair, a strain like pulling on a rope, and knowing it was tied tight.
His voice was a little breathy when he said, "You're always hungry when you first change shape, especially if you're new at it."
"How do you keep from tearing into the crowd at the club?" I asked, and my voice was a little shaky, too.
He leaned back away from me, and it made the pull on his hair tighter, harder. "By channeling the hunger into sex instead of food. You don't eat your mate. If you can fuck it, it's not food." His voice was lower, not deeper exactly, but lower.
"So how did I not eat anybody? I wasn't thinking about sex with the Browns."
"At first you are just the hunger, but after a few full moons, you can think, but you don't think like a person. You think like your animal. A few more full moons after that and you can choose to think like yourself in animal form."
"Choose?" I said, and began to pull him toward me, using his braid like a rope, but this rope was attached to his skull, and he didn't come easily. He began to pull against me, and I knew that it had to hurt just a little.
His voice was low and soft. "Some people enjoy the purity of the animal. Like you said, no conflicts, no inner struggles. Just decide what you want and do it."
"Undo your seat belt," I said.
He undid his seat belt.
I pulled him to me with his hair tangled around my arms, like you'd coil a rope or a strings of lights. "Does anyone use the animal for a patsy, you know, crime? A lot of what keeps some people good is their conscience. The beast doesn't have one of those."
He was close enough to kiss, his face lower than mine, because of his braid holding him just a little to one side. "The animal is very practical," he whispered. "It's why so few people use their animal form when they commit murder. I don't mean accidental kills, because they don't have the control, but deliberate murder."
I leaned over him. "Example."
"Say, your uncle will leave you a fortune but he needs to be dead so you can inherit it. Unless your beast is hungry, it won't kill your uncle for money, because the beast doesn't understand money."
I leaned close enough to almost kiss him. "What does the beast understand?"
He spoke with his lips almost against mine. "It will kill someone you truly fear, or someone who's hurt you, especially physically. The beast understands being hit, being injured."
I almost asked if he'd hunted down the man who beat him and his brother, but I didn't. I'd seen his memories. If someone had done that to me, what would I have done? Bad things, most likely. And I didn't want to fill the car with hurt and bad memories. I'd had enough of those.
I laid a kiss on his mouth, and he pressed me back against my seat. I found that still being seat-belted, I couldn't move well. My arms were tangled in his braid so that it felt like I was being bound. I had a moment of panic, then I relaxed into it. Nathaniel would not hurt me, and it was my own fault about the hair being where it was. He hadn't wrapped me up, I'd done that.
He drew back just enough to talk, his lips brushing mine. "What about your clients?"
I drew my head back as far as I could, which wasn't far, and said, "I'm not offering to fuck you here and now."
"You're not?"
That made me mad, though I wasn't exactly sure why. "No, I'm not." I started trying to untangle myself from his hair.
He drew back with a smile that showed for an instant in the lights. "I want to encourage you to touch me. God knows I do, but if you do too much with the ardeur not fed, and neither of us fed, then the night is over. You'll be pissed with yourself, and me, and I don't want that."
I got most of me free from his braid, except for the part that was caught on the back of the Browning. If it hadn't been a gun, I'd have jerked, but even with the safety on, I didn't trust it enough. Stupider accidents have gotten people shot. Neither Zerbrowski nor Edward would ever let me live it down. So I took a deep breath and forced myself to carefully untwine Nathaniel's hair from my gun.
Nathaniel had buckled himself back into his seat. "I would love to repeat this some time and place where we didn't have to stop."
I was still trying to get his hair off my gun. The fact that he was in his seat but his hair wasn't told you just how long his braid was. "You had your chance," I said, and I sounded mad.
"Don't be grumpy at me," he said, "I wasn't the one who pulled you into my lap."
I had the last of his hair free of my gun. I started to fling the end of his braid back at him, but stopped myself. He was right. Right about who started it. Right about how mad I would have been if the ardeur had risen before I got my work done. He was right. When people are right, you shouldn't get pissed at them. Or that was the new theory.
"Fine, I'll go through a drive-up. I'll eat a burger, you can have your salad. Will that make you happy?" I turned on the engine and started pulling out of the parking space.
"No, but it'll get us both to work tonight." He sounded sad.
I glanced at him as I maneuvered may way through the parked cars. "Don't be sad."
"I'm not sad," he said, but he sounded it.
"What's wrong?"
"It's just that you reached for me. There wasn't a metaphysical emergency. The ardeur hadn't risen, yet. The beast was nowhere in sight. Blood lust wasn't anywhere, and I had to say, stop. But the ardeur will rise tonight, Anita, and having sex with it not being fed yet is just inviting trouble." He leaned his head against the window. His shoulders were rounded, as if he'd hunched in upon himself.
"You're right about the schedule and the ardeur and needing to eat, Nathaniel. I don't know what came over me just now."
He turned to look at me, and we were in the bright halogen lights of the street, so I could see his face clearly. He looked almost in pain. "Couldn't it just have been that you wanted to touch me, is that so wrong?"
I sighed and concentrated on the road, because I had to. But also, it gave me time to think. I turned us back the way we'd started, but this time I knew we'd go through the drive-up at McDonald's. Honest.
I finally did the only thing I could think of to take that miserable look off his face. I touched his thigh, because it was the only part of him I could reach easily. He'd pulled so far away in his seat that I couldn't reach anything else without straining. I was driving, and that had to take priority over offering comfort, even when it was my fault for saying stupid things. I touched his leg, gently, tentatively. I wasn't always good at touching when sex wasn't involved. I was trying to get better at it, but the learning curve seemed to rise and fall depending on my mood, or someone else's.
He touched my hand with his fingers. I held my hand up to him, eyes still on the road. He laid his hand in mine.
"I'm sorry, Nathaniel. I'm sorry that I'm such an ass sometimes."
He squeezed my hand, and when I glanced at him, he was smiling at me. That one smile was worth a lot more than hand-holding to me. "It's alright," he said.
"I notice you don't disagree that I'm being an ass."
He laughed. "You don't like it when I lie."
I stared at him for a second, mouth open, then I went back to staring at traffic. "I can't believe you said that."
He was laughing so hard that our hands jiggled up and down on his leg. "Neither can I," he said.
But I didn't get mad. When you've been an ass to someone you care about, you should just admit it, move on, and try not to do it again.