The Cat and The Bird Talk It Out

Her intense hatred of Talia and Taurus will fade when she finds out that he's not banging me as a distraction. That's exactly what happened with Alistair. Sari knew Rhea and Alistair for years without getting physically involved with them. The second we started dating; she was there like someone used a dog whistle.

Sari will never admit it, but she's no different from Rhea. She's more outwardly aggressive and vindictive, but not different. It will gall her to no end to find out Taurus has feelings for me. Her backward, treacherous pursuit of him will begin immediately. I promise you that. It's another reason I was so close-lipped about our relationship.

"You have no idea how happy I am about that. The way she was pushing Wilde on Talia way back when made me angry. It went nowhere because even though Talia was interested, she didn't want to deal with the gnome."

She should never, ever go there. I want to scream that at the top of my lungs, but I can't. I'd have to explain why, and I can't do that. I can't share my shame with another human being. I nod, giving him a weak smile. "Yeah, I heard about that. Kitties have good ears."

He throws up his hands, nearly knocking me off balance, and I blink at him. "Bloody hell, you lot talk too sodding much! It's like a soap opera if everyone was on crack."

"Everybody tells me everything—or they used to, I guess. Exhibit A proving I'm out of the loop is your phone that's still going off." I point to the couch arm where he'd laid it after the last round of her nonsense. Shaking my head, I sigh. "Sari and Talia almost certainly don't know that she's ringing you. In the other place, everyone's on their damned phone all the time. It would never occur to them she's dinging your bell in the Rift."

Reaching over, he picks it up and growls in disgust. "Rhea's trying so hard right now. She's telling me how much she likes when I'm bad. It's like she wants me to sext her while she's with my bloody primary!"

I roll my eyes hard enough to send them into the back of my head. Muttering something thoroughly foul under my breath, I try not to lose my temper. Of-fucking-course she's doing this while the others are around. It makes her feel like ‘bad girl' to be doing naughty things they don't know about. She probably ripped it straight out of a scene from some romance novel she's read.

"If I were interested, I could have her flipped like a pancake and spread eagle in a couple of sentences. But she tells people I'm the bad guy. I wonder if I ever get to play the good guy," he muses absently. His expression is melancholy, and it breaks my heart.

I bite my tongue as my anger builds. Rhea's lies, her treatment of her mates, and the way she's using him is unconscionable. "I'm being quiet, so I don't say something nasty. Don't think I'm not listening."

His brow furrows. "Nasty to me?"

"No. You're a good guy, even if you like to pretend you're not. I'm being bitchy about her. I'm so tired of her bullshit."

The phone buzzes again and my body tenses, my anger peaking to the point of the beast lifting her head. I'm going to murder Rhea, mate or not.

"God, this is pathetic," he sighs, looking at the phone. "Do you know what's funny?"

Nothing. Not one goddamned thing about this is even remotely funny, but I sigh. "That's she may not only be texting with you to get her fix. Meanwhile, she's probably pretending it's her mom on the phone. Some Resistance people bring their tech with them, and Caesar made it work. It's helpful for those that go back and forth a lot. The Company isn't the only ones with working cells here."

"I didn't know that, so that's not what I meant. Though, that makes it surprising that you didn't have one before the one I requisitioned for you. Is Blondie trying to shag all their gits? Why not fuck her mates?"

"No one in my family carries one except Philomena. I mean, I guess I do NOW. We decided that with so many people after us, we didn't want an electronic dog collar. We have a house phone with voicemail. That's enough. We refused to get tethered to phones." I pause for a moment. "I don't know what the Duchess uses hers for, but it's never in public. There's a strict rule about technology interrupting family time, so it's not an issue."

He looks surprised again, and I shrug. "I was tied to my phone on the other side. That's not what life is about here. When I moved here, I gave out an email and the landline to my ‘old life' family and friends. No one asks questions anymore, so they might think I'm hiding from the law. As for Rhea's mates, she hasn't asked about Rafe lately, thank Christ. Is she trying to get a leg up on Constantine and Mayhem? Almost certainly."

"Anyone bad enough for this destructive bent of hers?"

My anger swells and she's rattling at the bars, eager to rip and tear. I snort and roll to my feet, knowing that pacing will keep the Beast at bay. "It's not possible. With her self-esteem and guilt, they'd have to sate the need to punish herself. Between Constantine, you, and Mayhem? Only you—hands down—no matter what Belle says about Mayhem."

"Why me?"

His eyes follow my path as I prowl. I wish I had something to smash or destroy or squash flat. My fury feels impotent, and I can't quell the roiling primal inside of me. I look over at him, my eyes swirling with emerald as I fight the change.

"What the bloody hell did I ever do to anyone that I'm this thing that's scorned and shit? I keep to my primary and stay away from all this drama. Yet Crackerjack's jonesing for a fuck from the monster and everyone knows. Christ."

The hurt tone in his voice makes my anger dissipate like mist. I shake my head, my crimson curls tumbling out of the loose pins I'd put in. Walking over to cup his face in my palms, I give him a soft smile. "You did nothing wrong. I don't know what the bloody hell is wrong with her. I know what's right with you, and it's a lot more than you like people to know about. Don't let her drag you into her neuroses. Her upsetting you is starting to mightily piss me off."

Letting go of him as my body tenses again, I move to prowl when the red rage comes back just as easily. I have to burn off this negative energy and keep her in place.

He grabs my arm before I can get far, holding on. "Don't. I'm letting her get to me. I'm confused and probably a good sight more sensitive about it than I should be. But it's my dick she's after and that makes me cranky."

I give him a stubborn look. "I still don't like it."

"When I asked if you knew what was funny, I was going to explain that my intention tonight was about as far removed from this scenario as you can imagine." His lips tilt into a crooked grin. "I wanted you naked, so I show you just how important you are to me. As it stands, I'm closer to seeing her bare assed than you. That bugs the hell out of me."

I give him a feline grin, my Beast distracted by her other favorite ‘f' word. "That can be rearranged."

Striding over to him, I pluck the phone from his hands and toss it onto an armchair where we can't hear it vibrate. He eyes the satin appreciatively, as if seeing the whole look I'd put together—minus the hair—for the first time. "Nice digs, Sandwich. I can't believe that I missed it when you got here."

I flush and he apparates what looks to be a large peacock feather. He waves the feather back and forth as I look at him in confusion. "About this. After being late and having a thrown in the living room, I couldn't bloody get the details out of fur face. I don't know how it's supposed to work. He promised Talia that he'd…"

Before he can finish, the California surfer-looking muse appears, walking out of a small portal. He looks a little worse for the wear in the facial department. They must have really had a bitching fight. No wonder Talia threw a fit. She's at that event with the trio of morons, and these two have torn her house to shreds while fighting.

"Hi." I wave at the monster I've only seen a few times before. I'm so focused on about this whole marking thing: I don't question his arrival, his appearance, or his bruises.

Taurus growls, looking like a child that's had its toy taken away. He glares at the monster like he's going to kill him on the spot.

Damien chuckles and winks at me, clearly amused by the situation. His eyes roam over my skin with interest, and Taurus narrows his gaze. Talia is golden brown and I'm Gothically porcelain, so I'm a complete dichotomy to what he's used to.

Artists notice that type of thing.

"Okay, cub, you put that on your skin, diddle with its size and placement—it's voice and touch activated. You get it right where you want it and then say the magic word. Poof! Then it…" He looks at me for a moment, studying my reaction. "Honestly, it burns itself into your skin. I've been told it hurts like a royal bitch, but it doesn't hurt for more than a moment or two."

Obviously proud of his accomplishment, Damien finishes with a flourish and stands back with a contented sigh. He either doesn't see or is choosing to ignore the narrowed glare on Taurus' face as he looks at me expectantly.

Burns? Hell, I can do burns. I can do much worse than that without batting a lash. Wilde had a candle phase a month ago, and I learned to deal with heat quietly. "I'm sure I'll survive. You'd amazed at what I can withstand pain-wise."

Please don't let them ask questions about it.

Taurus reaches up and plays with my hair idly, and it soothes me. "I'm not thrilled about that bit, regardless of what you're comfortable with, Sandwich. Are you sure?"

Damien waves his hand dismissively. "She's sure, asshole. She's burnt amber, isn't she?"

I blink. "What he said." It makes no sense to me, but I assume Damien sees the world in colors. They must denote emotions to him.

Taurus rolls his eyes. "Okay, so we go with that. Now, do I need to get the pliers to drag the ‘magic' words out of you, or are you going to willingly burden us with your stunning intellect?"

"Oh, sure," the muse says as if he's forgotten. His smile grows suspiciously wide and his eyes twinkle merrily.

For the first time, I notice his shirt isn't a shirt. The wild patterns on it swirl and spin and change colors chaotically, as if reflecting the mood of its wearer. I assume it is his pelt when he's in his monster state, so that's interesting.

Taurus lets out a growl of frustration when no answer comes. I lick my lips, trying not to choke on the testosterone level in the room. I'm pretty certain that the only reason he isn't strangling Damien is that I'm on his lap. I lean back against the clone, kicking up a silent purr to soothe him.

"If you want it smaller or larger, you have to fucking say ‘smaller' and ‘larger', man—ain't that the coolest? It works with ‘bigger' and ‘littler', too. When you get it in place and you're ready to do the deed, say this—it's more a phrase than a word, but after I spoke to Dickhead, I was inspired. So, the foxy feline has to say ‘hunk of burning clone' and presto! Sizzle city, marked mostly mate." Damien laughs again as he watches Taurus. He crosses his arms over his chest, lips moving as he silently counts down from five.

Precisely at one, Taurus roars. "What?!"

My eyes narrow and glitter menacingly at the muse. Is he fucking kidding? He's getting him riled up again, and I just got him calm.

Taurus gapes at his housemate before he turns to me, looking frantic. "No bloody way I told him to do that, Sandwich!" He snarls at Damien. "You son of a bitch! I'm going to kill you! Sod the golden goddess' dictates!"

The muse holds up his hands, laughing so hard his face is red—or persimmon, he'd probably say. "Oh, fuck, man. That was priceless. Between the pouty pussy and the dark cloud of stupid, I'm dying here." Chest heaving, he hiccups a cough and tries to calm himself down. "Okay, so I lied. Play not slay, man." He eyes me and thumbs a finger at Taurus. "No sense of humor. I swear."

I ponder whether I should laugh or help Taurus smack him around. "Imagine that! You did that on purpose, so I'm sure his anger is a huge surprise." I roll my eyes and mutter under my breath. "Men. Clones. Muses. Whatever."

Still chuckling, he looks to the ominously silent and glowering Taurus. As if he was waiting for the attention, Taurus picks me up and sits me aside. He stands up slowly and walks over to Damien, grabbing him by the shirt. Growling, his demon face drops as he gets in his face. "What. Is. The. Word?"

Too amused with himself to take offense, Damien wipes a tear of mirth from his eye. He's got all the concern of someone who isn't being held off the ground by a murderous clone. "You really need to lighten up, dude." He looks at me and shakes his head. "You sure you want to be burdened with this gob?"

I roll my eyes again, thinking I might strain an eye muscle if they don't stop. "Guys, I am suffocating on the testosterone here. Can we put them away for a few?" They don't move and I sigh. "Don't ask questions when you know the answer, Rainbow Brute."

Taurus shakes him so hard his teeth rattle together, not that it seems to dent the muse any. Finally, Damien relents with a chuckle. "Bond. Not James, of course, but that's it. Bond."

The clone holding him smirks intently. He snarls, "Say goodbye to the nice and more-patient-than-we-deserve lady, idiot."

Damien grins winningly and waves cheerily at me. "See ya around, babe."

I swat Taurus on the arm. "Would you put him down? He's being annoying, but no need for the caveman gig. Sheesh."

Taurus turns and looks at me, his eyes glowing. "Sure. Right now, in fact." With that, he walks over to toss the muse from the room and slams the door closed behind him.

I sigh, giving him a reproving look. "Didn't we talk about abusing people that are doing you a favor?"

"That wasn't abuse, kitty. That was us on a good day." He grins wickedly and slowly opens his shirt to show me the multi-colored bruises from his pecs down. "This was abuse. Though, I'd feel better about my aches if that one at least showed his wounds like a real man. He goes from one form to another and pphftt, he's right as rain. He was more broken this morning, I can assure you."

"I'd fix yours if you weren't such a big man who won't let me." I stand, running my fingers over him gently.

"I'd rather you do this." He kisses me forcefully, thrusting his tongue in my mouth to rub it against mine.

I murmur low in my throat, kissing him back hungrily. I try to be aware of his bruises, but this is what I've been waiting for all day.

Moaning low in his throat, he thrusts his hips towards me and draws back to rest his forehead on mine. "Talk about curing what ails you."

My hands slide down his back, resting on his hips as he presses close. I give him an impish grin. "It does? A kiss?"

"It's not the kiss, love, it's you." Grinning tenderly, he lowers his lips to my neck and nibbles. When he lifts his head, he looks at the feather on the couch and then at me. "About that thing."

"How could I forget after all the ruckus?"

He dips his head and grins sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I don't think you've met Damien before."

"I haven't really met him—only sort of. To get to the party Talia was going to have for you, my people formed a caravan. Heather won a weekend with him in an art contest. He was along for the road trip with her. During one stop, he caught me in an incriminating position, but it definitely did not count as ‘meeting' him."

"What position would that be?" He arches a brow and I flush, unsure he'll want to hear this blast from the past.

"Naked." I flick my eyes down. I'm not ashamed, but I don't want to make a big deal out of it. He looks at me and I can feel the burning stare as he waits for me to expound. I drop to the couch, tugging him down with me. "Not just naked, more like in the middle of something. My fault—it was a public place."

He growls, then sighs. "He saw you getting fucked. That lucky bastard. Maybe I will kill him when I get home."

"It was in a hot tub; no need to kill him. Besides, you get to do it, not see it. You got the better end of the bargain, I'd say."

His eyes roll to the ceiling, and he nods. "Hell, fuck, yeah." His expression gets melancholy. "You know, I'm a little surprised that you don't despise me. You had to have heard an earful before we met up on that dark street."

"I did."

"I must have seemed like an ogre. Even to my own eyes, I seem like an ass, given what I've read about myself and I know me."

"I usually figure that the story is always somewhere in the middle of what I'm told, so I make my own judgments about people based on my experience. Otherwise, I sure as hell never would have talked with Rhea." I shrug, leaving it at that. Rhea was not immediately accepted into our community and I'm the one who did a lot of campaigning for people to let her in.

Good job, moron.