“I don’t think Kirby’s the scaring-away type, are you, little cat?” Proud of the woman who was his own, he cupped her cheek, ran his thumb over her lower lip.
Coloring, she nonetheless pressed a kiss to his palm. “If I was,” she pointed out, “all your growling would’ve done it already.”
Bastien saw Sage’s eyes go leopard at that instant and knew his brother had realized exactly what was at stake. Not that he wouldn’t tell Mercy and Grey anyway—but he wouldn’t mention it beyond that tight circle. Not yet, not until Bastien was ready. He and his siblings might rag on one another, but they’d never mess with something so important.
Leaning close to Kirby, Sage whispered, “Ask him about the infamous kitten defurring episode.”
“Remind me to strangle you later.” Bastien opened the passenger door for Kirby, saw his brother’s smirk turn into a grin when Kirby waved at him after getting into the car, her eyes sparkling.
“Frenchie, huh?” she said, once they were on their way again, the laughter in her tone welcome.
“I really need to strangle him. Surely, my folks wouldn’t notice one less son.”
Shoulders shaking, Kirby turned in her seat to face him. “You’re close.”
“Yep, all four of us are pretty tight-knit.” Every one of his memories of childhood included one or the other of his siblings. “Not that we didn’t fight like feral wolves sometimes,” he told her. “In one notorious incident, Grey, who was only a tiny cub at the time, got mad at Sage and clamped his teeth on the tip of Sage’s tail.”
Kirby’s smile lit up her whole face. “What happened?”
Wanting to kiss her breathless, he said, “Stubborn bastard refused to let go, despite Mercy and me trying our hardest.” The memory made his leopard huff with laughter. “When Sage tried to shake him off, he just dug his claws into the earth and growled in the back of his throat. We finally had to admit defeat and call in the Power of Mom.”
Kirby’s laughter filled the car. “Tell me more.”
He went to do just that when his phone rang. “Sorry. Probably work.”
To his relief, Kirby didn’t seem to mind the fact that he had to be in contact with the office for most of the trip, her eyes on the scenery. Still, he didn’t like her so quiet, her fingers twined to strained whiteness around one another.
“What music do you like?” he asked between calls.
“Cheery, chirpy pop.”
Wincing, he pulled up a station that delivered exactly that. “You owe me.”
“Come on”—she turned in her seat to face him once more—“it’s not that bad.”
“I’m sorry? I can’t hear you past the sugar blocking my eardrums.”
She mock punched him and his leopard purred. He wanted to luxuriate in her touch, wanted to demand the most intimate, most private skin privileges, but while he delighted in skin-to-skin contact with her, he wouldn’t push her to consummate their relationship. If he woke to see regret in Kirby’s eyes, it would fucking break him. No, when they took that step, he needed his mate with him all the way, confident and passionate and demanding in her own right.
“It’s not a long walk from here,” he said some time later, parking in a nominated area within the pack’s forested territory. “We have to be careful of the natural vegetation.”
Having been twisting her neck to look every which way as they drove in, Kirby stepped out to spin around happily on the spongy carpet created of fallen leaves and pine needles. “I want to explore everything!”
Her unhidden delight eased any concern he might’ve had about her being comfortable in the rich green wilderness that sang to his changeling soul. Slinging the duffel with her stuff over his shoulder, he clasped her hand in his, eager to have her in his home. “I’ll run back for the groceries.” He couldn’t wait to show her all his favorite spots in the forest, his leopard as excited as a cub.
When a lynx with thick golden-brown fur wandered over just as they were about to reach the aerie, Kirby froze on a wondering gasp. “Is that . . .”
“Not a changeling.” Crouching down, he ran his hand over the creature’s back, its tufted ears standing straight up. “But, he’s a friend of mine.”
Kirby came down beside him, one of her hands braced on his thigh in the sweetest torture. “Will he allow me to pet him?” Wistful need.
“Here.” Taking hold of her hand after she settled on her knees, he held it out to the lynx’s nose. “Don’t feel bad if he decides against you,” Bastien said, wanting her to enjoy her first brush with the area’s natural wildlife. “The damn beast took six months to deign me acceptable.”
Except the lynx took one sniff at Kirby and jumped up to place his front paws on her thighs. “Bastien, oh, he’s beautiful.” Face suffused with joy, Kirby began to stroke the cat.