The Bird and The Cat Are April Fools

"Huh?" I give him a dazed look.

His eyes glow, flickers of yellow dancing in them hotly. "The tattoo, love. Remember? That is why you wanted me naked, right?" He takes one slow step towards me, muscles sliding under tight skin.

"Uh, yes. The tattoo."

"I mean, it's not like you have any other ideas." He takes another step towards me, searing me with his eyes. Once he's standing in front of me, an unholy smile tilts his lips. Cocking his head at me, he asks again. "Did you, love?"

"Uh. No." I shake my head. "Just putting this on." I've become a functional mute. I don't remember what I should say, wanted to say, or even what I am supposed to be doing.

Damned beast. Damned fire in my veins that's making my head fuzzy.

"Well, then, nothing else to do but get it on."

I blink, once again distracted by his innuendo. "Do you know where you—any ideas?"

Taurus chuckles darkly and holds out his arms, tightening his ab muscles to taunt me. "You tell me, love of mine. If you were a peacock, where would you want to be on my body?"

He's definitely fucking with me. I can't peel my eyes away and I can't think. "If I were a...? Uh, you could put it near where mine is… or your shoulder blade… or your tummy." I lean forward and inhale his scent deeply, my eyes closing.

Keeping his features impassive must be hard, but he's doing it. I don't know how he's so damned calm. "Good ideas, all. Maybe you should hold him against me to see where it looks good."

I stand, grateful for the movement because it might help me wrangle the Beast inside me. Walking around him slowly, I hold the bird up to his shoulder blade for a moment and consider. "Hm."

He cranes his neck to watch, obviously amused by the thoughtful expression on my face. I mean, it is permanent. I should be thorough, right? Focusing on the tattoo is helping me clear my lust fogged brain, so I'm going to keep doing it.

Two can play at his little game.

"Yes, dear?"

"Just pondering." I smile, circling back to his front and holding the bird up to his pectoral, studying. Lowering it a bit to above his abs, I make the feathers drape down over his tummy and hip. That's pretty, but I pretend to consider it further because I can.

He groans as my fingers whisk over him, and I hide my smile. "I'm wondering how much you're enjoying my restraint." He looks down at himself, growling. "Or lack thereof."

"I want to make sure it looks good." I tilt my head, studying him again before nodding. "Yeah, that looks good."

His eyes roam over the graceful curve of the bird's tail, the calm serenity of it in my hands, and the proud tilt of its head. He grins at me, and the similarities are hard to ignore. "Smaller or larger?" he whispers.

"He looks good like this, unless you think it's too big."

Peering down at the plumage, he looks at the colorful cascade over the side of his stomach and hip. "I like it. It's a definite statement and I'm into statements." His eyes cut up to the top of the feather peeping from the neckline of my tank top.

"I'm aware. So do I say...?"

"Ah, like before? No, it's a different word this time." He rolls his eyes. "Damien was feeling whimsical and ironic. The temperamental blighter. I'll spell it and then you say it."

I nod, preparing for something completely infuriating.

"K - I - T - T - Y."

"Oh! He is so cute." I smile and grip the bird despite its squawks. "Are you ready?"

His eyes are golden embers as they burn into mine. "Forever."

I smile softly as I murmur, "Kitty."

The bird in my hand glows bright blue and green, its tail trilling as the magicks take hold. Its head raises in prideful indignation as it's drawn into his skin. The pain of the marking has to be racing through him because he snarls, locking his muscles in place. In a moment it's done, and he releases the breath he sucked in. He glances down at the bird and then back up at me. "Well?"

I clap my hands. "It looks wonderful." I trail my fingers over it lightly, feeling the feathers of the tiny bird in wonderment.

Surprised, he jerks, learning the nifty little thing that happens to me when the feather gets touched. You feel it everywhere, and I mean everywhere. "Uh. I see he left in that nifty bonus."

I smirk. "It would seem so."

He nods, then runs a deliberate thumb over my mark to wipe the smirk from my face. "The touch thing is hot." I shiver and he steps closer, rubbing the eye of the feather harder. When he's within a hair's breadth, he stops, murmuring, "I'm naked."

"I noticed," I reply, scratching blunt nails over the bird to feel him shudder.

"You're not."

"I can be."

"Good idea." His smile turns evil as I shiver. "Unless you'd rather play canasta."

I raise my arms to help him, shaking my head. "No canasta."

With a tug, he has it over my head and his right hand rubs the leather of her feather, playing with it until he feels me squirm. "Pants, too, beautiful."

I flick the buttons of my cutoffs, letting them fall to the floor. My whole body trembles as he toys with the feather. He takes a moment to look down at me in appreciation, then grabs my hips and pulls me to him. His arms hold me against him as we back toward the couch.

Tumbling together, his hands roam wildly along my skin. Our lips meet in a hungry kiss and we shift to our sides, legs twining together. I moan low, my hands skating down his back and over his ass. He inhales, breathing in the scent of my arousal that is pulsing in the air like magick. Our kiss intensifies until it becomes a brand and we tremble as one.

"If we…" he growls out roughly. "Baby, if we do this, we will mate tonight. Do you understand?"

I nod, digging my nails into the bird as our bodies press together. "Yes."

His hips buck and golden eyes find mine, his expression wild and hungry. With a twist of his torso, he's on top of me, chest heaving as his eyes ask me a silent question. I nod emphatically, feeling the beast ready to be free for the first time in weeks.

"Now, now… please."

His cock fills me with a slamming motion and my nails sliding into claws as they dig in. His growl is primal, features shifted as we move, lust driving his thrusts harder. The heat building up in my body overwhelms the logical part of my brain. She bursts free, and I'm too lost in the coupling to note whether he's noticed my fangs and features shift.

My eyes are completely feline, emerald and gold swirling in them as She floods my form. His growls are low and dark as I scratch and snarl. I'm going to lose control, but he speaks, and I have to shake my head to comprehend.

? Je vous veux. Je vous voudrai toujours. ? He rumbles phrases in French and emotions swamp me, knowing that he learned it for me. ? J'ai besoin de vous. J'aurai besoin toujours de vous. Je t'aime. Je vous aimerai toujours. ?

The declaration melts my heart, and despite the beast's dominance, the need for him thrums in me from head to toe. The primal, the emotion, the lust, and the hunger: it's all fueling me as our bodies move in unison.

? Je vous réclame. Vous êtes les miens. ?

Even the beast acknowledges the love flowing through us as I look into his eyes, feeling my orgasm speeding toward me like a freight train. He snarls, his eyes dropping to my throat to watch my hammering pulse. Moving with speed only a clone can, he buries his fangs in my skin and the world shatters around me. My claws slash down his back as the magick of mating propels us to come together. Drinking hungrily, he clutches me as if I'll disappear. I moan low, aftershocks fluttering through me from the pull in my veins. The sparkling sensation of blood loss tweaks at my consciousness and I shudder, euphoria setting in.

At that moment, he instinctively knows that I'm fading. He stops drawing little by little—ever careful of that line between pleasure and danger—to lift his head. "Deli, love. I've drained you. You need to drink now."

Giving him a drunken smile, I lick my four pointed fangs in a supremely feline manner. I pull his head down, a low growl rumbling out of my chest. The beast practically roars her claim, "Mine!"

It's a fight to not to tear in ferociously. She is hungry for someone that accepts her, and that's made her starving for him. His taste dances on my tongue like fine scotch—mellow and rich. At the edge of my consciousness, I feel my tail pop out, marking the last piece of her taking the reins. It strokes up and down his lacerated back soothingly as I drink. Our bodies are still shivering, wave after wave hitting us as this moment stretches into eons.

Suddenly, something inside me clicks into place.

Our auras show up in bright colors as we mix and meld and mate. I feel so much that my nerves spark like they are on fire. The heady floating feeling fades as she feasts, and I realize that we're edging toward that line of danger again. Finally, I let go, licking his wound so it will close, but stay scarred. Whispering his name, I look into his eyes, feeling his demon and my Beast gazing at one another from within.

He collapses on top of me while my tail strokes gently and a calming purr kicks up in my chest. Coasting down together, the intensity of our mating slowly subsides as we lie together and catch our breath. His hand reaches out to caress my feather and I purr louder, the touch making my skin hum again.

"Nice appendage, love," he murmurs hoarsely, tilting his cheek into the fur as it passes his face.

I smile, waiting to see if any of this has thrown him off. I don't know if the trouble that started with others will begin when he sees the changes that happen after the Beast takes control.

"I'm dead, right? No, wait. This isn't hell, so I can't be dead."

Chuckling, I shake my head. "Not dead."

Looking pensive for a moment, he grins. "I thought I might feel guilty."

I tilt my head. "You did?"

He looks embarrassed. "Well, yeah. I'm rather surprised at how not guilty I'm feel. I feel like everything is right inside of me." He ducks his head and looks away. "It's nothing. Probably exsanguination induced delusions or whatever."

My expression softens, and I pull his face back to look into his eyes. "No, I feel the same way. I've never — I mean, not so much before—and it's tingly everywhere." Now it's my turn to feel awkward, and I look away.

A fingertip to my chin raises my gaze to his to see the honesty and emotion in his eyes. "It was a first for me, Deli. The first time I've bled anyone that much without intending them dead; hell, the first time I've been bled that much. Is that what you're trying to say? Because I'm tingling, too, and it's a new to me. I'd like to know it's not just me."

I nod, my eyes wide. "I've never drank that much while intimate—not even close. Nor has anyone drank that much from me. It's like I can feel you in every corner of my body; my head's buzzing."

He chuckles deeply, stroking the feather again. "What can I say, baby? I'm positively intoxicating." Snickering, he wags his eyebrows dramatically before giving me a serious blue stare. He drops a kiss on my lips and murmurs, "I love you, Deli."

"I love you, Taurus." I smile, my eyes twinkling. "Your chest thumping is back, so you must feel stronger."

He closes his eyes, and rolls onto his back, sliding an arm around me to snuggle me cozily. "I'm feeling bloody incredible. It's like I'm inside your skin or you're inside mine." Blinking, he turns to me as if he's getting panicked. "You've, uh... never that much? Maybe I shouldn't have?"

I arch a brow, not following his logic. "Why not?"

"It's just—maybe you didn't really want to. I did and maybe you felt obligated…"

Snorting, I shake my head firmly. That's too silly to even consider. She has wanted to tear into him from the moment we got intimate and I've been straining at the chains to keep her back for weeks.

"You didn't?"

"I took what I wanted. She was so hungry that I couldn't stop. She wanted to drink you deep, baby."

"Why was that? Because I'd drained you so far?"

"I don't think so. I've felt all, um, hungry and stuff like that before—with you." I bite my lip, not knowing how much I should admit to. It's been an ache for so long, but what if it weirds him out?

"What do you mean, before?" He rubs his thumb over my lower lip lightly, making sure I'm looking at him.

"I think I could have—no, probably would have—done it like that even if I'd gone first." I squirm, feeling so emotionally exposed that I'm having trouble.

"Are you saying you wanted to drain me from the beginning, love?"

"You make her… me… hungry. I told you that. It's like I need all of you."

"She, um, didn't want me dead, right?"

"Of course not, you overstuffed turkey!" I huff, giving him a salty look.

"Good. Back to this drinking thing, then. I may tease, but it means a lot. I'm gratef—no, I feel… I'm not sure how to put it. It's like you chose me when you chose me."

My lips curl. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?"

"I did, too," he whispers.

My tail brushes over his face. "You know, this doesn't pop out for just anyone. I have to get completely lost in her. And, um, to let her out—all the way out—I have to really trust the person."

"Those control issues are coming right along," he chuckles. His expression gets curious as he looks at the appendage. "It doesn't come out every time you get—intimate? I'd think with the biting that she busts out all the time."

I shake my head. "No. I don't let her run completely free much at all anymore."

"Why not? I mean, I assume it's a primal blood thing. They bleed you; you grow."

This requires me to avoid specifics or I'll have to admit things I am not ready to discuss. "I haven't figured that out yet. The tail pops out when she's close to getting out—but only if she's super ramped up. If it doesn't come out, the spot burns at the base of my spine, but stays put."

He laughs, looking delighted. "Good to know that our initial meeting didn't ruin it for me. I like when you give me tail."

"It's not mating specifically, I know that. It hasn't popped out with most people. In fact, there's only four people who have seen it." That part is true. I've never let her out that far with Wilde. The trust isn't there, and he's made a mess enough with the fangs, much less the rest of her. I'm not free with him—not at all.

His features flash and fangs drop instantly. "I don't want to know who. So, help me if that poetic prat or my brother have, don't tell me."

I blink. Whoops. Hit a minefield. "Okay, I won't."

"Bloody hell, that's worse, isn't it?" He snarls, his temper flaring, and he growls low. "Mine."

I hold him tightly as his wrath boils up. "Yours." I kick up a purr, stroking my fingers over his arms. The purr calms him, so I keep it up, murmuring, "Always yours."

Once he's back, he grumbles. "Well, shit. That wasn't exactly enlightened, was it? Bugger."

"No worries."

Giving me a guilty look, he sighs again. "I don't want to be the prat that gets all psycho-stalker because you have a past. And a present."

I reach up and cup his cheek. "I wanted you to know that it's special. It wasn't fair to bring up the others. Don't worry."

He nods, then looks at me earnestly. "I won't sleep with Blondie."

"Where did that come from?" I give him a look as if he's jumped the track.

"I told you once that it was within the realm of possibility. I wanted you to know it's not anymore. But it's, uh, not…"

"You don't have to do that for me. I mean, if you wanted..." I look away, feeling guilty that I can't offer him the same pledge. For once, I feel bad that my lifestyle may cause him a lot of pain. I'm not ashamed of who I am, but feeling selfish.

"Do you want me to?"

"No, but I don't have the right to expect—I mean, pot-kettle-black. It's not fair for me to ask that." Fairness is important to me. It balances my world, my chi, my life. I can't ask things of him that I can't reciprocate.

It violates every part of who I am to do so.

He looks down at me. "I told you once that I was a one-woman man in my heart. It turns out I was wrong. I'm not going to fuck Blondie. Not because you asked me not to, but because you'd hurt if I did. It's not remotely important enough for me to risk your feelings." He shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a two-woman man. Think of it as—a wedding present."

I smile softly, tweaking his nose. "You are as soft as a teddy bear inside. You know that, right? Maybe it's deep down under your skin, but it's there."

"Take that back!" Lunging for me, he causes us to roll off the couch and land with a thud on the floor. He tickles me as I try to get away. "Take it back, hussy. I don't have the strength to spank you tonight!"

"Nope. Nyah, nyah, nyah."

Pinching, tickling, and squirming, he laughs as I try to fight back with girly slaps. Finally, he slams his mouth down on mine, kissing me deeply. All the fight drains out of me and I melt into him, my hands sliding over his chest.

When he lifts his head, he murmurs, "I have a favor to ask, though. I'd thank you ever so if you could do something about the slices on my back?"

I give him a sheepish grin, though somewhere inside she's eying him with a satisfied look. Closing my eyes, I lay my hands over his shoulders, letting the tingling energy build in my palms. He's had my blood recently, so this should work without a lot of effort. I feel the skin sparking under my touch as I slide my fingers down the scratches gently. "It should only take a few more seconds because you had my blood."

"I wouldn't mind you going back over that hungry detail for me again, either." He grins. "Not that I'd push."

I swat his rear. "You're lucky I love you. Otherwise, I'd have to beat you for being an ass."

Growling, he jumps up and storms to the window. "I changed my mind. I'm going to go shag Blondie six ways to Sunday and then kill some kiddies as an appetizer. Stupid sodding French learning poof."

His outburst surprises me, but I shrug nonchalantly. I'm not letting a pouty clone ruin our time. "Then I guess I can't tell you about the hungry stuff."

He stomps over, his expression petulant. "What about the hungry stuff?"

Holding my hand up, I wait for him to help me up. He looks like he's warring with himself, but he tugs me up and tumbles us to the couch again. I grin victoriously, reaching up to cup his jaw."You make me all wild and primal. I feel like I need to drink deep every time so I can feel every part of you."

"Would it kill you to mention that I learned sodding French?" he grumbles.

"It was romantic and hot and all the other adjectives I'd use will make you huffy."

"Hot isn't bad." He gives me a shy grin. "I did okay? I mean, was it right and all?"

"Yes, and it was all dark and growly, which is sexy."

He laughs, and I give him a puzzled look.

What is with the bi-polar clone thing? Do they all lose their crackers when they mate with me?

"I mated with you today."

"Yes, you did."

"And if I'm not mistaken, you mated with me."

"Uh-huh."

"What is today, minx?"

Son of a bitch. "April first. Oh, bloody hell."

"Irony's a straight bitch."

"We probably shouldn't tell anyone, huh?" I ask, edging right along a ledge that I hope I don't fall from.

"Tell anyone you like. I'm not the one that's going to take the heat—though I should warn you. You get prickly when people pick at me. You might be a veritable porcupine by the time it gets around."

"Well, they should be smarter than to poke at my mate—or more full of holes. One or the other."

"Fuck, I love you, minx."

"I fucking love you, too, baby."

I hope it's enough to stop the train that's headed right for us when everyone finds out what just happened.

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