But most noticeably, his eyes were a striking silvery color that reminded her of some of the snow leopards’. Could he be...?
“They don’t want an officer around for the sort of stories they’re telling,” he was saying.
“Oh.” Mavis tried to pull herself back to the conversation, instead of just ogling the poor man. An attractive Marine officer like him was probably used to women hanging off of him. “Are there other officers here, too?”
A regretful headshake. “Social events don’t often cross those boundaries, I’m afraid.”
“What makes this one different, then? Or—” Mavis dared a bit, “what makes you different?”
That got her a laugh. It was deep and rich, and made her feel temporarily light-headed.
“Nothing too special,” he said at last, though the laugh lingered in the smile at the corners of his lips. “I recommended Sergeant Westland—Cal—for this job at Glacier Park, years ago when he first left the Corps. He’s very grateful, and he wanted to tell me in person.” The Colonel looked over his shoulder, over to where Cal and Lillian were talking with several other members of their pack. “I’m glad to know it’s worked out so well for him, but that’s a credit to him, not to me.”
“You’re the Major I’ve heard him mention,” Mavis realized. He must have been promoted since Cal knew him, which would make sense. It had been ten years, after all, and the uniform suggested that this man was still in the Service, not retired like the others.
“That’s me. Or I was, back when I last saw any of the men.” He sounded a bit wistful.
The man must feel like a fish out of water here, then, considering what he’d said about officers and enlisted men. And he wouldn’t know anybody else here.
Well, she could spend some time with him. It wasn’t like it would be a hardship—definitely the opposite. And as it happened, they were standing by the drinks table. “What would you like?”
“No, no, that’s my line,” he protested, and stepped forward to get them both glasses of champagne. The delicate flutes looked tiny in his big, capable hands.
His fingers brushed hers when she took a glass. They were warm and rough, and Mavis was startled by the sudden, very physical reaction she had to the touch. When was the last time she’d responded to a man like this? “What should we toast to?” she asked, trying to distract herself.
He thought for a moment. “Wedded bliss?”
Mavis thought she recognized that same bittersweet feeling in his eyes. “Wedded bliss,” she agreed, and they clinked glasses.
Because it was important for some people to have it, even if it had escaped her. And perhaps him as well; there wasn’t a ring on his finger.
“How do you know the bride and groom?” the Colonel asked her after they’d sipped.
“Oh, my daughter’s in—” their pack, she almost said, b
ut then caught herself, and revised it to, “—the wedding party.” Even if the Colonel’s eyes seemed suggestive of snow leopards to her, she had no way of knowing if he really was a shifter, or even knew about them. Maybe Cal had had to keep his shifter nature secret while he was in the military.
Probably the military knew about that sort of thing, though, didn’t they? She cautiously tried, “Nina has...a lot in common with Cal and Lillian and some of their friends.”
The Colonel’s eyebrows went up. “Your daughter does...but you don’t?”
They had to be talking about the same thing. Didn’t they? “She’s adopted,” Mavis said.
His eyebrows went up. “Ah.” Then he smiled. “Is your daughter a snow leopard as well, then?”
“Yes,” Mavis said in relief. “Oh, good. I couldn’t have kept that up for long.”
“I’m not a fan of double-talk,” the Colonel said frankly. “I prefer straightforward honesty, when possible. Unfortunately, with shifters it isn’t always possible.”
“This town is very odd about it,” Mavis confided. “Everyone knows, but it’s still treated like a secret. People don’t talk openly, and there’s no way of knowing if anyone individually is a shifter unless they tell you personally.”
The Colonel nodded slowly. “Shifters are used to hiding, for their own safety. The military perpetuates that as well—they’re kept together in special units, and their shifter natures are classified top-secret.”
Mavis realized that that probably meant that all of Cal’s former platoon-mates were shifters, too. She wondered what types they were. “I understand the need for secrecy, but I wish it was safe for people to be more open. I want to learn more about the culture, but it’s difficult when no one will talk about it.”
The Colonel’s face was thoughtful. “Shifter culture varies widely, depending on the place and the type of shifter. They’re all fairly secretive and insular, but that can mean that they develop their own customs, some of which are unusual or surprising.” His face darkened a bit. “It can also mean that their systems of authority are—unfortunate. Since no one is policing them.”
Mavis nodded. She knew Nina had encountered plenty of packs when she was out on her own, but had been rejected or chosen to leave them because they were too awful to join. It broke her heart. “Cal and Lillian have been doing some wonderful things here in the Glacier pack,” she offered. “Everyone has input on any decisions, they meet regularly to discuss pack business...”