The Cat Faces The Enemy

Sauntering over to him, I plaster a smirk on my face. We're going nowhere if I don't break this Mexican standoff and I'm certain he'll stand here letting me stare at him all night before he gives an inch. "Thanks for meeting me. I'm not sure how much longer I can hang before my absence gets noticed, though."

He arches a brow, feigning disinterest, but his scent changes as he studies me.

I set the hook well because I smell surprise. He's playing it close to the vest, trying to look uncaring, but that's not true. Regardless, it can't hurt to confirm the information I believe he has, so now I'll pretend to clarify. "It's problematic to escape with eight permanent residents and four semi-permanent guests. Sneaking out was an exercise in stealth—though, a necessary one. I have enough trouble keeping my concerns under wraps without them discovering this little tête-à-tête."

My thoughts drift to the warm tangle of limbs in my bed, and I sigh. This damn mutation has altered my life in such a way that my feeling of home may never be the same. I hate it and I'll survive this just to have a sliver of hope that I can go back to how it was. Suddenly, it occurs to me I need to make sure of something before we continue.

"Please tell me that Talia knows you came here to talk to me, despite being late. I'd prefer not to duck flying weaponry. I don't have it in me to deal with that on top of everything else." Pinching the bridge of my nose, I realize the internal struggle with my Beast is giving me a migraine. She's making it hard to maintain the aloof facade that I need to project with Taurus—something I have to work around or this is over before it begins.

His eye roll rivals that of every teenager in the universe for attitude, and as if that jackassery wasn't condescending enough, he snorts. "My golden goddess always knows where I am, as I know exactly where she is. It's a head thing." His eyes focus intensely, his heated expression almost sinful to watch. "She's not within throwing range."

A whiff of primal catches the breeze and the beast inside lifts her head inside of me, sniffing curiously. Her interest is a cue to back away from the smoking hot murderer and keep my cool. Shaking my head to clear it, I look heavenward to the Goddess, hoping this fiend is not my problem for much longer.

Honestly, I don't know if either of us could survive a long-term association. He's too high maintenance and there is no shortage of smoking hot dick to keep me occupied at home. In fact, sometimes there's too much even for me, and that's saying something.

Watching him through my lashes it amazes me that although most of the clones come from his template and have the same basic features, not one has an identical temperament or talents. Genetically, they are the same, but their personalities and appearances are all over the map. They're no different from humans in that way, but it's hard to reconcile that when you're toe to toe with them.

Realizing he's still talking, I blanch. I don't have the foggiest idea what on earth he said while I was out to lunch mentally. I could have agreed to let him serve me for supper and I won't know unless he repeats it. Son of a bitch. No more letting the tasty smelling murderer distract me or I'm never getting out of here.

"I'd prefer to get on with it. I like to be away from my mate as little as possible, same as you with your…guests. She's waiting for me; it's a heart thing." His eyes cut to mine, burning with fire and ice as if I've offended him by letting him prattle on. The intense stare fades quickly as his lips quirk with amusement and irritation as I visibly bristle.

I didn't come to have a coffee klatch or play games. He's the one who was late, for the goddess' sake.

"Fine with me," I reply as I search for a spot to get comfy. I finally hop up on the wall he's slouching against, noting the slight twitch of surprise. He didn't see that move coming. "I'm interested in the process of ‘Creation'. I don't need the exact specifics—I know it's a big whoop-de-doo secret—but a few details might clear up some questions."

He inhales one last time before he flicks his smoke aside in silence. Watching the sparks skitter across the pavement like mini-fireworks, I ponder how appropriate that image is for our current situation. My gaze cuts back to him, but he's implacable in leather and silk, smelling of the night.

Christ. He's not Batman. What is wrong with me?

"What's with you lot, anyway?" he growls in disgust. "All you humans want explanations and tours and information. ‘Tell us about the science, the lab coats, the Battle, the Company…' None of you are happy to accept their gift at face value. Hell, half of you aren't able to recognize that we are a gift when we fall in your lap, shag you senseless, and make your piddling lives more interesting by the second."

I didn't notice as his rant built up, but his face has changed. His fangs have dropped, the ridges appeared, and now the predator is loose. Taurus' temper is legendary and I've hit a sore spot. I've barely got my beast reined in, and if he doesn't quell his demon soon, he's in for a hell of a shock.

Not that his arrogant, pissy ass reaction is shocking… of course he considers himself a goddamn ‘gift.'

Talia's always fondly dubbed him the prince of preening. That's a mild moniker for his egomania, but she supposedly loves the dickhead. Once the Cabal left, it was easy to forget the original clones are much less domesticated than the current generations. Taurus's body count in the Conflict was a large part of why the two factions had to come to the table. He was running through people faster than anyone could gather more. Obviously, Taurus is still living the life the Company trains its recruits for.

That's not something I'm used to dealing with, so I didn't have time to prepare my inner kitty.

Ignoring the situation isn't helping, so I breathe deeply, digging my fingers into the brick to stop the stirring beast lumbering around inside me. The scent of his power and strength are alluring, and she is loath to settle once provoked. It's become a genuine struggle to fight off the urges, and I'm concerned that my beast might touch off a new incident in the Conflict. If I can't calm her down, she will reach out to our mates and all hell will break loose—all because my current companion has a burr up his ass about gratitude.

Right as I'm about to lose my grip, something odd happens. Taurus' eyes fade to icy blue and his gaze hazes over. He tilts his head to the side as if listening to something faint. The posture is instantly recognizable to me—Talia is speaking to him through their mating bond, and only he can hear her dialogue inside his head. My own experiences with that side effect of mating are both good and bad, so I can't tell if we're going to have a problem.

After a few moments, his features melt to normal and I'm shocked to see that he looks sheepish. I didn't think humility was in his vocabulary. His newfound calm allows my heart to slow its hammering pace and I can push the cat back.

Thank the goddess for Talia's impeccable timing.

Taurus chuckles ruefully and runs his hands through his perfectly coiffed spikes and shrugs. "Interfering wench. Alright, I've been bidden to do my best to be helpful. What details are you looking for?"

Showing my amusement would be a bad thing, despite finding his tough-guy image less impressive. A five-foot-two, tanned knife tosser just completely owned him from afar. Drawing further attention to it would be foolish—if not fatal—so I paste a stunned expression on my face so I can play along. Placating him is a necessary evil if I want to get the information I seek. However, I know more about him now than I did at the start, and that will only help me achieve my goal.

Taurus is an egomaniac, a predator, and many claim that he's evil—all of which I like on any given day, despite the protests of my more passive mates. But his leash only extends as far as Talia allows. This display shows he's as much a slave to his collar as I am to mine.

My lips curl up as I twirl the ring on my finger for a moment. I wonder—not for the first time tonight—if the knowledge he might possess is so important to me, I'm willing to risk a civil war. Taurus might be leashed, but I don't trust him or the Cabal as far as I could throw them. It's already hard convincing the beast to back down to appease him. I just know that it's a chance that I have to take. My worries for everyone's safety have become too great, so I push forward.

"The ‘Creation' uses science, not magick, right? The same DNA is used for all the clones when they're made, isn't it? I mean, obviously not for Wilde, because his transformation was a bit of both. Wouldn't you all look the same under a microscope? You have the same strand, same markers, same mutations, right?"

"Christ, woman, do I look like a bloody lab coat to you? What in hell would I know about markers and scopes and, better yet, why the fuck would I want to?" He gives me a cocky grin that belies his quick protest, and I roll my eyes skyward, wondering if we'll be trading potshots when the sun rises.

A growl of frustration so low that only enhanced hearing could catch it emerges from my chest, and I stop to take a slow breath. Find your center, Deli, find your center. "Maybe because you work for the Company? You have to know all the ins and outs—clever boy that you are—and you know I can't ask your brother."

Shit, shit, shit.

His eyes narrow right as I realize I put my foot in my mouth. He baited me and I fell for it big time. "Anyway, I assumed you were the most knowledgeable source to get the answers that I have to know. I've got this research project that's on a deadline."

I smell the distrust radiating off of him, but now it's tinged with a bit of curiosity. That's better than nothing, right? A tiny spark of interest could lead to getting what I want—or to him going on a homicidal tear through the city because I let the ‘brother' cat out of the bag. I can't believe he's not scented him on me yet.

Regardless, he has the trail now because he's doing that annoying ‘animal instinct' clone thing with his head. It's one part scenting and one part hunter. On my boys, it's sexy as hell, but on Taurus, it makes me think he's pondering a kitty flank steak for dinner. While I'm okay with a game of ‘chase me' before a bit of rough and tumble, I don't want to end up as prey.

His lack of readable expression is unnerving me, so it's time for another tactic. Appealing to his good will has definitely failed. Not surprising, but that means it's time to hit him in that monstrosity of an ego. "If you don't know, I'll have to find a genuine expert that does. It's not like I have a shortage of samples to supply."

The bark of laughter catches me off guard, as I figured he'd fly into an enraged fit, like a child that had its toy taken away. I honestly don't remember ever hearing Taurus laugh in the few times he's made a guest appearance over the years. He's not known for his sense of humor.

Yet, here he is, laughing… at me. What an ass.

My temper piques, the affront of the situation pushing all of my buttons. The beast rumbles and I can feel her indignation as she stretches and spreads out inside me. My control is shaky and boy, am I being tested tonight.

"Nice try, love," he smirks, giving me an even better reason to call him a jackass in my head. "Seeing as we're not in high school, the old ‘mine's better than yours' bit isn't going to fly with this bird."

Christ, he's really pissing me off with this smug know-it-all horseshit.

This night is going to end in blood. I can feel it in my bones. She's sniffing around, the hint of a fight capturing her attention in a way that I'm going to have trouble distracting from. Before I can figure out how to put this train back on the rails safely, he yanks me off the wall. Clones move like lightning and I'm used to it, but what he did—I don't know what to call it. It was like Jeannie blinks in and out of the damn room—that's as close as I can get.

Taurus has me pressed against the brick in an all too familiar position, but he's not one of my mates. This is not good. The beast has no clue who he is, but he's speaking her language: fight or fuck. Thankfully, she goes with rage. We're being provoked by an unknown predator, which does not make her happy. She hasn't fully unsheathed yet, but it's coming and?—

What the fuck is that in his hand, a goddamned sickle?

I slow my breathing to keep from grazing the weapon he blinked to my jugular. It's holding my head in place as the curve of the blade stretches from ear to ear. I'm never going to stop her in this position. Panic is spreading through me like wildfire. She's not had the chance to get into a fantastic brawl, and every moment we stay like this, it gets harder to focus on his words rather than my Beast slamming into the cage doors.

The only thing stopping me from letting her go is that there's no telling what Talia will do if I tear Taurus a new one. I breathe again, grasping for the human part of my brain. When I find the thread, I realize Taurus is yammering at me again in that snarky tone. He seems not to notice the proximity of razor-sharp steel to my throat. One false move and I'm getting beheaded, but he's chuckling as if we're best buds.

Giving him a look of haughty defiance at the physical threat he feels perfectly comfortable issuing, I force a snort. As if I owe him fealty. "Back off, asshole."

He ignores me, still looking amused. "Listen, Sandwich," he says, "I don't really have time for games, so we'll do this like great sex—hard, fast, and hot."