The Cat Gets Cornered

For a moment, that image completely derails me.

I know it's hard to imagine—given the giant sword at my throat—but she and I are equally licking our chops for the briefest of moments. When I get home, everyone is getting a wake-up call because I'm going to need somewhere to put this excess adrenaline. After I resurface from the lust fog, I figure out I could attempt to push him off regardless of the blade, but his body is pressing mine from stem to stern to prevent it. He's giving off heat like a furnace and wriggling around would only increase the chances of my focus straying.

I close my eyes, deciding to use desire to rein in my anger. He's built like my boys and I can pretend, right? If I weren't so furious, I might notice that he's more lithe and sinewy from his training for work. He's also more muscular than his frame implies and—crap.

He's Taurus, I'm me, and I'm more likely to join a convent than actually get to indulge in the mind scenario I'm using to quench my rage.

"First," he continues casually, "I don't run the Company; it's too much bleeding paperwork. It's too much work, period. You had something there, though, because I know what you're aching to find out. Lucky for you, I'm interested, and I like you just enough that I'm going to tell you what I know."

He likes me? You could have fooled this kitty.Holding me at knife point is a funny fucking way of showing it.

I open my mouth to make a sarcastic comment about working on his interpersonal skills when he speaks again. "There's a fly in your lube, pet. You're going to trade me. I have questions I want answered, so it's the old quid pro quo and all that rot. Starting with…" That son of a bitch actually pauses for effect, then continues. "What the hell are you because you don't smell right. Give me the condensed version because we're going to be here a long time if you aren't honest. I will call for a brassed off woman, a Muse, and an android to join us if you aren't honest. I'm not one for backup, so you'd better calm whatever it is going on inside of you or things will get bloody fast."

Taurus' voice dropped to a tone inaudible to a being without my new enhancements at the end of that speech, so he knows the one thing I'm not is human.

His lips lower to my pulse—which is a big mistake. The scars there are whisper sensitive and it's going to set me off like a rocket, not calm me down. I feel a warm tongue and I'm not sure if he's licking me or the blade. A shudder—unfortunately not of revulsion—rips through my entire frame, forcing me to pant softly. When he pulls away, there's knowledge in his gaze that I don't like. The clone knows too much about my emotions, reactions, and secrets and he wants to know more. He gives me a cocky smirk, flashing his fangs. "Show me yours, Sandwich, or I promise you, I'll show you mine."

Squashing the urge to fire off a sarcastic rejoinder that will only make the situation worse, I reply softly. "Move."

He ignores me, looking expectant.

"I said move." My beast comes out, the bass of the predator deepening my tone, and he doesn't bat a lash. I grit my teeth and hiss, "Look, I'm trying not to go all slice and dice on your arrogant ass. Move out of skewer range because I'm taxing my control to say this."

His brow quirks up, gauging the truthfulness of my response by scent. After a thoughtful pause, he yanks the blade out of the brick and moves to an arm's length. His gaze is intense, but his stance doesn't show an ounce of concern. Grinning, he folds his arms over his chest and slouches against the wall nonchalantly.

I know I won't scare him with what's coming, but he's not far enough out of reach for my taste. He'd put me on my ass if I lied about him needing to move—luckily for me, I'm not lying. I have to intrigue him, or this has been a giant waste of our time. Taurus is many things—most of them unflattering—but a fool is not one of them. He has to understand the implications of what's happened to me, right?

I shrug off Alistair's duster and scramble up on the wall again to increase the distance between us, so I feel safer. His eyes follow the coat briefly, as if just realizing who it belongs to.

Bared to a tank top and low-rise leather, I close my eyes and fling open the cage door internally. A rumbling yowl escapes as I shift: my features change, my fangs lower, and my eye color flashes emerald, signaling the beast's arrival. Ignoring the burning at the base of my spine, I sigh, knowing that letting her loose is going to wake the boys. My scars itch, and I scratch the one on my shoulder with my claw. She's calling to her mates, and the itching lets me know they're aware.

Man, will I have some explaining to do.

"Satisfied now? Fists and fangs—in my case, claws and fangs—so my cards are on the table," I rasp, still unused to the baritone voice of my other half. Tossing my hair over my shoulders in faux annoyance, I tilt my head to the side and sneer. "Hopefully, this didn't call out the dogs on my end. The connection between me and my mates is sensitive, much like you and yours, I'd expect."

Instead of waiting for him to rise to my bait, my almond-shaped eyes spear him. "In answer to your question, I don't know what I am. My guess is this..." I jump down and spin on my heel to give him the full effect. "… has something to do with all the little bits of clone DNA floating around inside me. Before you correct me, I realize this hasn't happened to anyone else, but I have quite a few blood donors, which is not as common."

Apparently, he's going to continue fucking with me because I don't get a response. He just stands there, smirking while fishing out a smoke and lighting it. That expression is begging for a good slap and since I'm feeling dismissed, she would be happy to give it to him.

What he doesn't understand is that while his demon is under control, she's in the driver's seat now. I can't play this game for much longer with her loose without it getting bloody.

His eyebrow rises slowly when I snarl, giving him an angry glare through slitted eyes. His reticence has to be because he knows that I'm not playing with my full hand. I have secrets I'm holding back and another power source he doesn't need to know about. The latter is something I never use in public, so he can't know about it.

Can he?

A puff of smoke marks his complete disregard for her as he takes a drag on the cigarette, watching me expectantly. "Nice pelt, puss. You have a flair for execution and acceptable form—high marks for that. I can't say that I'd fault the dismount, but your control sucks."

It figures I'd get the fucking Russian judge.

Rolling my eyes, I shake off some of the furry, letting my claws slide in as I stroke the beast pleadingly. He doesn't understand the difference between us, so he thinks that I just suck at having an inner monster. I don't have a Beast inside of me like the clones have a demon; I have a beast inside of me with a separate mind of her own. She can do whatever she wants, except exist outside of my form. I don't know why I'm different, but I am.

Fighting her off once she's riled up is getting damned near impossible. That's why I've stopped allowing non-mated clones or droids at the house. It's too much work to fight her off — it's a mental marathon. I can think and reason, but I can't always steer the boat.

Taurus is trying to get under my skin and force me to show my hand prematurely. Clammed up tight, he figures he can play me, get what he wants, and leave me without a card left to throw. However, this isn't an old-timey poker game, and I'm not a simpering belle.

I've got six shooters of my own.

I open my mouth to retort, but he surprises me again by smiling—not that sardonic smirk he's been giving me—and winking. There's a devilish gleam in his eye and I almost believe that he's genuinely being nice. Taken aback, I blink. I've never seen this expression on him before, and I bet I could count on one hand the people who have. It's almost more intimidating than the scowls and sneers because it's disarming and charming and?—

Nope. Stop that train before it leaves the station, Deli.

"You know, you're as gorgeous a chit with the fangs and fur as you are without, Sandwich. I suspect that's said often enough by your brood that I don't have to repeat it, so I'll just say that you give good tail."

Poof. As if by magick, those words snap the last bit of composure I was clinging to. Weeks of hard work to keep one little thing under my power when she's in charge and it disappears with his cutesy compliment.

Maybe I can cover by stroking the old ego and he won't notice?

"Why, thank you, Mr. Taurus. I'm taken aback by your high praise." The sugary Southern drawl and coquettish posture accompany batting lashes and a teasing look that I hope conveys playfulness. The tip of my furry flicks slightly, but since it's still out of sight, he might not see it.

"The bottom line is that I couldn't care less about the whys and wherefores of your pussy-butch alter ego. Your brain work sounds possible, but problematic if it's right. Not being a sharer myself means it won't become a problem with my woman, but we seem to be in the minority these days."

For a moment, something in his expression makes rage sizzle over my skin. It doesn't feel like a judgment of my lifestyle—I'd expect that—but something between consternation and disapproval that bothers the hell out of me. He truly can't comprehend why anyone would want more than one mate. I wonder if he considers me community property because that thought is distasteful and disrespectful at the same time. It pisses me off to think he's judging me based on his archaic beliefs.

But I might be way over thinking this. Maybe he's imagining killing anyone who lays teeth to his mate. If so, I can get that. Outside of our family, I don't like people looking at what's mine, and it's become worse since she appeared. I can't share that feeling with anyone because it violates all our ‘free love' tenets, but it's true.

Taurus has to know that no one would even consider looking at Talia. It's no skin off my ass if they're exclusive, but I don't want that agenda pushed on me. I didn't intend to build a squadron sized family and explaining how it happened would probably dispel that community property theory. Fortunately for me, my primary mate has enough love to share with those we've stumbled upon and it's always worked out. Unfortunately for him, he's also been damaged by the wrong choices we've made.

However, Taurus is prattling again, so I suppose I should start listening.

"I figure you and I could go a round or two," he says casually. "We could do damage to each other, right enough. We could call in the cavalry and get a genuine bloodbath frothed up good and proper. You might win, I might win—be a coin toss, I think. It'd be a right good time as it's been a while since I've had legitimate competition in that area. We won't, though, because I had enough of wars years ago."

As if to prove his words, he leaps into the air and lands gracefully on the wall, dangling his legs off and resting his arms on his knees. I don't have the foggiest where the sickle went, so I continue watching him warily.

"The truth is simple," he continues, his voice dropping an octave. "It's not worth it. Talia believes that the impact of another true bloodbath within the community would be counterproductive. She laid that pearly bit of information on me back when I was roaring to take out an offensive weed from the community garden. After chaining me to a wall in the basement for a week, she waited until the hunger kicked in and I finally saw the wisdom of her shouts. Anyway, I don't thin the herd or get thinned by a neighbor anymore." His eyes narrow on me for a millisecond and then slide back to gaze at the darkness in front of us. If I didn't have enhanced hearing, I would have never heard his snarl, "Even if the bint bloody deserves it."

Knowing which bint he's referring to, I keep my mouth shut while he fumes. She's one of my mates, so normally, I'd bristle and jump to her defense.

However, our family has some serious issues because of the problem I'm here to figure out. Her primary mate, Wilde, has been out of control since my transformation, and the effects of his behavior have wreaked havoc on our family. There's no sense in sticking my nose into his conflict with that part of my family tree. It would give him the tidbit that there's internal strife and that would be foolhardy.

By the time I decide to keep mum, he's back to being graciously charming again.

A killer with scruples, that's Taurus.

"I've seen your fuzzy side. Great. Now, let's move this evening ahead so I can get home and make with the naked and sweaty. The questions you had that led to you calling me?" He raises his hand with all five fingers up. "No. No. I already answered that twice now, and I don't plan on repeating it. Not a bleeding clue. Not likely, all things considered."

He slides off the wall with a boneless move that the feline in me would appreciate if I wasn't so flummoxed. Before I can reply, he turns his back on me and walks away, calling over his shoulder, "Since that covers it, I'm off. Be seeing you, Sandwich."