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The Cat And Bird Are Unaware

Iended up staying on the couch because I was too tired to move. When I woke, I found a photograph propped against the candle that burned all night while we talked, laughed, loved, fussed, and soothed.

He probably wanted to see me when he left, but was afraid to wake me. As much as I swagger about my youth, we've pulled a lot of all-nighters lately. I'm glad he let me snooze so I can be awake this evening.

The picture—a puppy and a kitten romping together in the tall grass on a sunny spring day—made me smile softly. Talk about your reputation destroyers for both of us. As much as that stuff makes my heart ache, neither of us wants a reputation for being squishy and cute.

Feeling grimy, I use the bird phone to go home and shower. The spray coasts over me as I try to think of how I can top that gift. It hits me as I'm washing the shampoo out of my hair and I end up almost drowning myself. After I get out of the shower, I hunt down my phone, looking for the references I need.

Calling Hex home to help me with it, I grit my teeth as he shows with Chaos in tow. Oh, how I hate her family. Chaos isn't that bad once you learn to translate her nonsensical ramblings. But the people she lives with are Sari sycophants and I'm in no mood for that. Once Hex finishes, I extricate myself from playing a game of melt the army men with Chaos. Grabbing a drink, I head upstairs to make sure I look presentable.

Deciding what I'm wearing is good enough, I zap myself back to Taurus-land. His scent says he's here, but I doubt he's awake. He would have greeted me by now. I was gone a couple of hours, and he didn't leave any sign of when he'd be back.

Hopefully, he's not grumpy.

I tiptoe up to the couch and peep over the back, a mischievous grin on my face. Holding the sleek stuffed panther to my chest, I tug its tail. The vibration makes a soft purring sound. He'd never get caught dead with something so cute,. Regardless, I turn it over and inspect the hand embroidered peacock's feather stretching over its torso and belly. Attached to its neck is a ribbon with a small piece of parchment on it, which says ‘So I'm here when I'm not'.

Hex did amazing work on this bad boy.

I carefully place it on his chest, grinning as I watch him sleep. As if sensing me, he cracks an eye open only to come face to face with the cat. "Arrrgghhhh!"

He jumps up in surprise and gives me a wild-eyed look, making me shriek. "Dammit, don't do that!"

"Me?" He clutches his chest as he heaves in a lungful of oxygen. "You scared me witless with that, uh, present? You got me a present?" Tilting his head, he looks down at the stuffed cat. "You got me a ‘you' substitute."

I shrug, not wanting to make a big deal out of it since he seems so flummoxed. "It's nothing. I was out, and I saw it."

Again, with the lies. This emotional wasteland is making me a big, hairy liar all the time. It's not like I got him an engagement ring; it's a toy.

Sheesh, Deli, woman up.

I stop berating myself when he picks it up off the floor with a boyish grin and runs his fingers over the embroidery.

"You saw it with this mysteriously specific design?" He stops and holds it up to his ear, as if just noticing the vibration. "It's purring!" His expression turns delighted as he looks at me.

"You pull its tail."

He pulls it again, looking at it with amazement. Suddenly, he realizes that he's holding a stuffed animal like an old friend. He looks at me, then purposely around the empty room, as if someone will see him. "If anyone ever found out I was holding this, I'd have to immediately kill myself. But I love it."

"I won't tell; cross my heart."

"It's a little you," he says, looking less like a lethal killer than a little kid.

Dropping onto the couch, I tuck my feet under me and smile fondly. "That's what I was hoping."

He sits down next to me, his head resting on the cushion as he looks over at me. His eyes are tired, but his expression is serious. "God, I missed you today."

I reach over to run my hand over his cheek. "I missed you, too, baby. Have a hard day?"

"It's me—how I am. I get knackered and I stop functioning. I may as well not even bother with the bleeding commute to work. I couldn't do a fucking thing as tired as I was." I run my fingers through his hair lightly and he continues, "I thought about Blondie a bit because I'm a masochistic fuck. I remembered a lot, which pissed me off and turned me on because damn, some of that shit was hot."

I blink, willing my hand to keep going as I'm the last person who should have a gripe about having other lovers. But somehow—here and now—that stings. My free hand rubs over my heart absently and I stay quiet, unsure what to say. Why does it feel like I took a cannonball in the chest? Is there something I'm not doing right? I am so screwed up by all this damned Wilde bullshit; I would have questioned none of this before.

"I've concluded that Blondie is the most two-faced person I know, or she's out of her bloody mind."

"I have no idea which is true. I thought I knew her, but I guess I was wrong. She has a lot of problems." I whisper for fear I'll let it slip how tenuous my emotional state is right now.

"I've known her a while; Talia has known her longer than that. Though, if you saw everything I did, you'd laugh at the pattern of behavior. I forgot I started her on her sexual quest."

I shrug. "Maybe that's why you're such an important conquest."

"I saw some blogs back then, with the gnome giving Blondie advice on how to get me in the sack."

"Did she give her the ‘every guy likes to fuck, give him the chance' lecture? I have names for all of Sari's stock speeches."

"It would be so much easier if I could eat them."

"The problem is they've been feeding each other's dysfunction for years now. There's no stopping that train."

"You know what? This is bloody ridiculous—all of it. They deserve each other. They're happy in their misery and probably wouldn't recognize a healthy relationship if it bit them on their asses. Though, one would wonder how healthy that brand of relationship would be."

I snort, not because he's been funny, but being bitten on the ass started the most fucked up relationship that I've ever been in. He does not know how ironic that is. If he knew Wilde had started that way, he'd laugh me out of the room. I sigh. "It wouldn't be very healthy. Trust me on that one."

Looking worn out and upset, he reaches for his present and pulls its tail as he wraps his arms around it unconsciously. "Do I even want to ask?"

I chuckle. "The first time Wilde bit me was on the ass."

"He claimed your ass? What a wanker."

"Not claimed, but marked, I guess? I got him drunk, so that excuses it a little." I give him a half smile.

If I could turn back time, oh boy, would Cher and I do things differently…

"You mention your relationship with Wilde a lot. What's so different for you than for Blondie with that ponce?"

I shrug. "I mean, I think it goes back to that bite. Wilde bit me the first time we slept together. Back then, he didn't even bite Sari. He sure as fuck hadn't bitten Rhea. He treated her like his Lady Fair because that's what she lived through with him: a romance novel. He's always called me his Darkness—which is the part of him that Rhea couldn't touch. I'm a bad, rude girl. I guess it made her feel like I'm closer to him? I don't know; it's stupid. She doesn't want what I have and trust me, I'd give it to her, but she couldn't handle it."

I pause, shocked that I said what I did. Clamping my mouth shut before something else gets out, I panic.

Holy Hell in a handbasket, someone gag me. My mouth's run off on its own.

"If I wasn't in such a foul mood, this would be roughly akin to a poorly written Greek tragedy."

More like a tragedy re-told by the Marquis de Sade, but okay. "I guess so. She's definitely made Wilde her Helen of Troy."

"I think part of my bloody problem with Blondie is that I can't wrap my mind around wanting to be something that you're not. She's not a dark force like me, Talia, or Sari. She has a dark side, but that's not her driving force."

I notice he left me out and perhaps he's mistaken the chewy center for a rainbow of light. He'll learn eventually, but now's not the time to correct him. "She wants to run with the crowd, not get left on the porch getting the vapors."

"That explains my problem with it. Joining is not my middle name."

I snort. "Me, neither. I lead the crowd, not follow it."

He looks at me for a moment as if assessing me. "You know, it occurs to me I have yet to receive any kind of welcome at all from you tonight, love. Sick of me already, are you?"

"No, I'm not tired of you in the least; don't be so prickly."

"Prickly? Me? What would make you think a character like me would get prickly?"

"I have no idea," I snort, then kiss his nose. "Did I forget to tell you how glad I was to see you?"

"I'm still having some insecurity about us, kitty, and the lack of sleep is making it worse. I think I'm bigger a poof than normal." He draws me closer and mutters something under his breath that even I strain to hear with enhanced hearing.

"What was that?"

"I said I love you. Damn, woman, you deaf?" He gives me a petulant look, shrugging as if he doesn't care.

"Nope. I enjoy hearing it intelligibly. Love you, too, baby."

He exhales and grins a crooked grin at me, shifting me on his lap to get closer. "How can you be so not insecure about us?"

I have no answer for that. I'm a mess of insecurities, lies, half-truths, fears, broken wings, and scars inside. I can't say that because it lets the full on crazy out. He didn't sign up for that, and I'm not comfortable enough to share it. I wrap myself around him, purring softly as I rub my cheek on his. "Because I know I love you and because my gut says it's right. I trust my instincts—or I try to."

I mean that. I'm following my gut despite the firm and loud protests in my head.

A warm grin spreads across his face slowly as he nods. "You know what? Sometimes, it really is that simple. Thanks, love."

"No problem. I'm a fount of knowledge, you know."

"We're founts of something, you and me, but somehow I don't think knowledge is our strong suit."

"Evil. Got a streak a mile wide."

He eyes the feather and smirks. "Not quite a mile, but close enough to be seen."

I chuckle throatily and arch my back, my eyes darkening. "You got that right."

His hands bury in my hair and he tugs my head back, nipping his way down my neck. Eyes lift to mine, swirling gold as he puts shaky hands on my hips. He draws a deep breath before murmuring, "Your mark; your man."

"My man," I echo, my voice husky as my hands slide to his hair. I'm enjoying nipping along the fragile skin of his neck. I know his rules and that's going nowhere fast, but Christ, a girl gets to dream, right?

A slow smile tugs at the corners of his mouth and his right hand moves up from my hip to run the length of the feather teasingly. I squirm as his fingers strum the tattoo, grinning at his enthusiasm. He touches his lips to mine and the emotion of the moment overwhelms me. "Mine. Yours. Together."

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