The Cat Fears Discovery

Did he figure out that I'm testing him? I hope not.

My weak little hummingbird heart can't take another sadist. I may dance on ledges in clubs and run with the big dogs physically, but emotionally, I'm an amputee. "You could, but it wouldn't match everything. That would throw my whole sense of style off. But I'm sure you'd get a kick out of me explaining to everyone in the universe how it got there."

I said ‘everyone in the universe.' That means in public, you demonic jackass.Come on, saysomething.

He chuckles deeply, giving in to temptation enough to bite at the tip of my nipple. He might be too distracted by my nakedness to catch my desperation. "I would, hussy, so watch the sass." The feather glides over the inside of my knee and moves upwards teasingly. "But I may have a better idea."

Squirming at tickles, I ask, "You do?" I'd sass more, but he's distracting the hell out of me with the feather.

"Mmm hmm, I do. If you give me a few moments, love, I'll show you." His hips rub against my thigh with fantastic friction, making me whimper. He doesn't have a lot of control left because his eyes are swirling gold as he watches me. Nipping my neck, he grins as I try to tug him up with my hands. Finally, he moves the plumage upwards, stopping at my left breast. Closing his eyes, he listens for my erratic heartbeat.

Once pinpointed, he lays the feather down, the colorful and unmistakable eye directly over my heart. The plumage curves along the topside of my left breast in a graceful arch as the quill disappears into the shadows of the curve of my hip. When he finishes, the tentative placement, he looks up at me questioningly.

"I can shrink it if it's too big, love. It's a rather large feather." His voice is husky as he murmurs, "Or we could move it?"

I look down at it and then up at him. I'm filled with more emotion that I can comfortably verbalize, so I say, "I think it's perfect where it is. The size is fine if you like it." I don't tell him it's bigger than the tattoo his brother had inked on my stomach. Point of fact, it's bigger than any mark anyone put on me. I grin nervously. "It's dramatic—like you."

He knows I have to consciously allow regular tattoos to stay on my body. They're harder to heal than bite marks. The one I had removed after the mess with Mercury came back the next day and I ended up having to push the ink out of my body. However, the one Alistair got me seems to fade on its own. I don't know if my healing is getting strong or if my magick knows that our ties with them are dying. I don't even want to consider what it would take to get this sucker off.

"There's that sass again, missy. It's a good thing I love you." He drops a kiss to my lips, then eyes the feather judiciously. "It's a bit too large, I think. Even if we're going for dramatic, we can still lose a bit of overkill. Do you want to see how it works?"

The magick user in me is excited to see Muse magic, but I'm so overcome by the emotions that the words get stuck. Instead, I nod at him with a shy smile.

"Smaller." The feather glows for a moment, then shrinks about ten percent, leaving the quill to end right at the curve of my hip. Curving around my breast, the eye stayed exactly where it was placed, as if it knew that was the focal point.

"Ooooh," I say, biting my lip. The tint of childish glee twinkling out of my eyes makes him laugh, and I shrug. I'm always captivated by magickal items, and this is no exception.

"You like that, huh?" Taurus studies the placement thoughtfully. He seems to be oblivious to the fact that as he gets closer to marking me, his hips are rubbing against me more persistently. "Do you want to try?"

I shake my head. "It might be a fun toy, but I like it where it is." My hand reaches up to brush a lock of hair off his forehead affectionately.

He looks thrilled with that response. "Good, because there's another surprise. Damien forgot to mention it when I—ahem—saw him out."

I tilt my head, looking curious. "Oh?"

That one brief word stands for so much. My entire body tenses as I brace for some caveat that makes this not as important as it feels. I guess my other mates really broke me. I'm sitting here, waiting for the sword to drop and slice off my head.

Leaning over, he whispers in my ear. "Say ‘stick'."

I look down at the feather, murmuring, "Stick."

The feather glows and gives off a faint flowery odor. Taurus grins from ear to ear, then reaches out to nudge it with his finger. It's stuck to me like glue. He looks at me with a wicked grin, his expression asking if I understand.

I blink. "What did you do?"

Levering himself up, he purposely lets his eyes go golden. His hand tangles in my hair and in a voice almost lost to need, he explains, "It's stuck to you until we make it permanent. We're going to do this together."

With that, he lets go of his tightly leashed control and captures my lips, allowing his tongue to play with mine as his fingers stroke over me. I moan as his fingers make my entire body shiver, my legs sawing against his. Pressing against him as our bodies move, I feel the fire spread through me like a flower blossoming. This is the point of no return and I hope I can control her well enough to enjoy this. A tightening of muscles has his hips nudging my thighs apart. Pulling my arms over my head, he pins them there.

He breaks the kiss on a ragged sigh and raises his head, spearing me with demon eyes full of lust and animalistic joy. "We're going to fly, love."

With that, he thrusts inside of me, and a growl rumbles out of my chest. My body surges up to his and my thighs framing his hips. Eyes flashing emerald flecked with gold, I lick my chops when the beast emerges. He shudders and his hips slam against mine in quick, hard strokes. Gold eyes glare down at me intently as if he's stalking prey and I rumble back, letting him know it will be a fight.

My control is better, but she is howling like a hellcat to get all the way out. His demon just challenged her, and she senses an equal. She wants him and she can't have him. This might get ugly.

"I want to claim you as we come, love." His pace picks up and my claws tear down his back, marking his skin.

She tests the cage—the word ‘claim' sending her into overdrive—and I struggle internally. I don't want this to get ruined, but I fear I won't be able to hold her. I snarl up at him, my body aching with each jarring thrust. My features shift—I can't help it—and it's all I can do to keep her from breaking loose entirely.

A long, low growl slips past his lips. "Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine!"

The growl turns into a roar from the depths of his being. His hands pressing my wrists deep into the cushions above my head, but I keep my eyes on his, letting him fight his own battles. The full demon visage emerges on a bellow of volcanic emotion, and it almost looks like he's going to bury his fangs in my neck. She hits the cage door hard inside of me, desperate to answer the call. I fight to free a hand, praying this will keep her satisfied before she causes a diplomatic nightmare.

My back arches off the couch and I work to keep my fangs far from the skin where they're itching to tear into. "Yours," a voice that is entirely Beast growls. With another moan, my body shakes, raking my claws over his back hard enough to hurt when I fall over the edge.

"Mine. You're mine." Each ‘mine' is a brutal thrust, and he finally throws his head back to let out one last roar. "Bond!"

A fierce, yowling cry echoes out of my throat as the feather sears its way into my skin. On instinct, my hand snakes up to the appointed ear. Chest heaving for breaths and squeezing him tight enough to break something, I pierce the lobe with a claw. I can only hope that the tiny trickle of blood will sate the beast. Sex and pain are making her rage to bite and tear, and I'm not sure that I can hold her much longer.

My skin is sizzling with the heat of the feather searing its way onto me, and I'm shaking with the force of our shared climax. My entire being feels like it's coursing with magick and beast and lust, and I've never felt this way before. With one last bellow, he collapses on top of me.

Limbs drape over him and my throat feels deliciously raw from the screaming. My breath comes in shallow pants and my eyes slip closed, savoring the emotions rocketing around inside me. The beast seems mollified by the piercing—though I broke my clean needle promise—so I relax. I've won this round, despite the hard-fought battle.

Taurus stirs on top of me. His features slide back to human as we tremble together. Looking down at my chest, he seems to realize that part of him is lying on top of my new mark. He pushes up to make sure he's not hurting me and his eyes meet mine. Once he sees my sated smile, he grins broadly. Untwining our nearly broken fingers, he wipes a sweaty lock of hair off my forehead. He leans down and kisses me gently. "I love you, Sandwich. Mine." As an afterthought, he licks my collarbone playfully.

I trail bruised fingers up his sides, schooling the wince off of my face. "I love you, too, baby. Yours."

"Tired?"

"A little." I flush, not telling that the most exhausting part was fighting off a hungry, possessive hellcat that wanted to drink him deep.

"Sod that. All you had to do was lie there and get a little singed. I did all the work." I smack him playfully and he frowns. "It didn't hurt too much, did it?"

"Nah, only for a few seconds. Besides, I did more than lay there, you ape."

He growls, nipping my shoulder. "Minx."

I wrap around him, nuzzling my nose across his collarbone as a soft purr kicks up in my chest. The Beast has faded, the fire in my veins has faded, and I'm feeling victorious. "You're going to put the stud you brought in soon. I don't want it closing up."

Yawning loudly, he looks at the clock. "Minx, you did it to me again. A nice, clean needle, my round, compact ass."

I give him an innocent look. "What did I do?"

He points out the window. "Oh, look. It's sunrise."

"I'll be damned."

"No doubt both of us will be, love. It's a good thing that I still have… Oh, what's that now? Two full hours before work."

"You could have told me. You called me here late. I don't have any responsibilities this weekend, so it doesn't matter if I sleep in."

"I did nothing I didn't want to do, now did I?"

"I didn't say you did."

"Yeah, I noticed you're slippery that way. I gotta watch what I say around you."

I snort, smacking his aforementioned compact rear end. "I'm tricky that way."

"That you are, pet. That you are."

The look of satisfaction on his face makes my eyes sparkle and I give him another squeeze because he looks so cu—manly and attractive. My expression is bright as my hand rubs his over his abs.

"Hey, lady, do you know you've got a peacock on your chest?" He smirks, mocking a terrible American accent.

I blink, pretending to be clueless. "Oh, my goddess, no! Get it off! Get it off!"

Laughing crazily, he pushes away from me to get a good look at the mark. All the color drains out of his face and he gasps. "Bloody buggering hell, do you see that?"

I look down. "It's hard not to."

"What did that pea brain Picasso say it was? A tattoo, right?"

"Yeah?" I give him a confused look, suddenly feeling very wary.

His eyes drop to my chest and he reaches out a hand to run a finger over the eye. Drawing back as if it stung him, he frowns. "Then explain to me why the bloody thing is moving. Sandwich, it looks as real as when I was holding it!"

My eyes narrow. "It's moving?" I squint down at myself, fatigue making me loopy. "That's nifty! Look at it!"

"Let me try something." Leaning over, he blows gently across my breastbone. The feather stirs gently, as if on a light breeze. "Did you feel that?"

My nose twitches and I mutter, "It tickles."

He reaches out again, stroking the eye with a thumb. "And that?"

I shift, feeling that in a part of me that does not need be re-awakened. "Uh-huh."

He backs over to the edge of the couch. "From here, it's not as noticeable. I doubt I could see it if I weren't straining, and I've got rather good eyes. The color and detail are bloody amazing."

"It's not so bad right now."

"Well, there's no breeze. You'd better hope that's just an ‘us' thing, beautiful, or you're going to have a hell of a time explaining it to people."

I snort. "A harder time than when I grew fangs and a tail?"

"Point taken." He tilts his head, studying me. "Come to think of it, you kind of look like the cat that ate the peacock—all but for a single feather."

Laughing softly, I lick my lips. "Are you disappointed I missed something?"

"Bloody right!" He eyes me as if he's found a new toy. "Kiss me."

Pulling his face to mine, I kiss him, feeling languid and relaxed. Groaning, he reaches down to stroke his thumb across the eye of the peacock feather, massaging it slowly. My eyes pop open and I squirm, feeling it all over my body. The room fills with the scent of desire, both of our bodies responding to it.

He draws back abruptly, staring at me with wild eyes. "Bloody hell, I like this thing."

"Damn." I whistle low.

"I guess this means I won't be killing Damien. It also explains his behavior yesterday, the sneaky rotter."

I chuckle. "No wonder he was so damned amused. Bastard."

"Sodding muse." He sighs and shakes his head. "Balls. I'm going to buy him a present and I wasn't going to Canada until November."

"Why Canada? What's up there besides hockey, Mounties, and bad beer?"

"Maple syrup. He loves the stuff. It's a sickness, I'm sure. He can tell which jars are from which tree; it's freaky."

"He's as picky about syrup as I am about booze."

"Idiot thinks he's a connoisseur. He threw a bottle at me once because it was of inferior quality."

I burst out laughing. "No way."

He frowns, looking as if he might pout. "You love me for my cheap laughs. I'm onto you kitten!"

"I love you for the cheap sex, too. Give me some credit." I bob my brows, propping myself up on my elbows.

"Now, now, love muffin. We can't have the ego go ‘pop', can we?"

"Baby, nothing could put a dent in that behemoth."

"I'll give you that," he smirks.

I squeeze him tightly, murmuring, "Though the freebie hugs and squishy stuff aren't so bad, either."

"Tsk, tsk. What would the people in our world think if they ever found out that a) I was capable of that rot, and b) that's why you loved me? Talk about your definition of apocalypse."

"The Apocalypse is guaranteed once people find out anyway," I grin, ruffling his hair.

"Blondie will have an aneurism."

A low snarl escapes before I can stop it and I mutter, "That's enough to make me preemptively stomp."

He eyes me curiously, and I sigh. It's hard to explain where I am with the people in my life right now. I love my mates, even when they're slicing me to the bone. I can't just cut them out, but I don't know what to do with them. Realistically, you can stop loving someone—I just don't know how.

His eyes light up. "Wait. Stomp for me, baby? Imagine I got that neon ‘hunk of burning clone' sign attached to your car."

Giving him a dirty look, I shake my head. "That would earn you a beating."

"Will you please stomp for your irritating jackass that melts you with his kindness?"

I get up, giving him a fond but exasperated look. Making a production of it, I stomp around the room like a great big idgit. "Are you happy now?"

"It does! The bloody feather shivers when you do that, like you're standing on a moving train! It's trembling from your jiggle, baby."

"Oh, great. Now I have plumage? Could I be more confusing?" Scowling, I stomp over to him in a faux huff.

"It's not noticeable unless you pay attention," he says. "I doubt a human would see. To them, you'd probably just have a huge peacock's feather over your left tit. Who's saying what they'd think?" He looks like he's going to pout, and it melts the starch right out of me.

"Fuck ‘em. I don't care what they—or anyone—thinks. I like it." I cross my arms over my chest, irritated at the thought of someone telling me what I can or can't do.

"You sure? I could get Damien to tell me how to take it off or stop it from doing that."

"I was teasing you, baby. No need to fret."

Shrugging nervously, he tries to play it off. "It's new for me."

I drop onto his lap and smile. "I was sure when you put it on, and I'm sure now. That won't change."

Hugging me tightly, he murmurs, "I love you for that, though. It'll probably cause a head butt or two."

That is an understatement the likes of which have never been seen, but I'll let it go with that.

"So, I've got to go. I have to spend some time at work today—right before I die. I'm not as young and spry as some kitties I know." He kisses me softly. "Is this the part where I tell you I may like you a little?"

"It's also where I say I might like you, even if you're an ass."

"Riiiight. I remember this part. I bray, you hiss, and b-i-n-g-o was his name-o." He laughs, reaching over to pinch my bum.

"Today, I think I'll do this." I lean in and kiss him, then take a deep breath for courage before saying, "I love you."

"Damn. That's only today's treatment? I could bloody well get used to that."

He takes me in his arms and places me gently back on the couch. Smoothing my hair, he gets down on a knee in front of me. "I love you, too, beautiful. See you soon."

Watching him leave, I sigh. Once he's gone, I gather up my forgone clothing. I may be the biggest idiot alive, but today, I'm a happy idiot.

Hopefully, it lasts.