“How old am I?” she wondered aloud. She didn’t look… young. But she didn’t look old. Glancing up at the male, who watched her, she realized something. “I’m your elder.”
He smiled, slow and sensual. The expression tugged on something low in her belly and she forced herself not to rise and back away in self-defense. “I like my females experienced.”
She scowled, uncertain she liked that term. “I am no slattern.”
“Of course not.” He hesitated. “You’ve had lovers. And you’ve been married.”
Izobelle rose. “Not mated?”
“No. Your husband… died.”
She stared at him, watching the expressions in his eyes. “You hesitate when you say he died.”
“Some say you had him killed.”
Izobelle blinked. Well. That was… interesting. “You called me Izo. Are we friends?”
Lovers?
A forest fire in his eyes as he held her gaze for a long moment. Heavy, a masculine knowledge hinting at possessiveness. She stiffened to avoid backing away. He looked at her as if she did belong to him.
He turned away, his body beginning to swell and twist with the shift. “When your Bear wakes, you will know what we are.”
***
Izobelle considered his words, but didn’t press. He would tell her what he knew or he wouldn’t-but she wouldn’t lose her dignity and nag him. The male hunted with impressive efficiency, not a single movement wasted. She would have shifted and ate the fat fish raw, but Bear still slept. Malvin returned to human form, ignoring his own nudity, and went about making a small fire. Izobelle stretched out on the ground and watched him, unabashed. He glanced over after a while, dark brow quirked.
“If you choose to provide a show, youngling, you can’t be upset if I enjoy the view,” she said, a small smile on her lips.
He had the fish on a makeshift spit, roasting over a low flame. After a moment, apparently satisfied, he rose to his full height. Izobelle blinked, smile evaporating. Lean muscle rippled, the bulk in his shoulders and arms flexing as he stalked towards her. Another female might have kept her eyes firmly on his face-Izobelle felt too old for that nonsense. She allowed herself a slow, thorough look. Appreciating the full package.
“Who says I can’t have a younger male?” she muttered. Not that now was the time to think of having- but then, if she had nothing better to do with her time then wait for her brain to heal… why not?
“You like what you see.” His statement was flat, a cool smile curving his mouth, challenge in his eyes.
“Has there ever been a female for you who didn’t?” she asked. Spare her the cockiness of cubs. He knew he was fine.
“Why don’t you return the favor?”
She snorted, ignoring the subtle taunt in his tone, and rolled onto her back. “When I can shift again, perhaps. Don’t burn my dinner, male.”
This time she did close her eyes, ostensibly ignoring him. After a moment his shadow left her and she heard the rustle of his tending the roasting fish.
She must have dozed, for he woke her a time later with a nudge on her shoulder. Turning her head, she saw he’d pulled on pants and was sitting cross legged, if bare chested, balancing a portion of fish in his hand nestled on top of a wide leaf.
Izobelle inhaled. “That smells heavenly. I do hope you didn’t under season it.”
“You’re used to better cuisine, I’m sure.”
Sitting up, her fingers brushed his as she took her fish. It was hot; she blew for a moment, juggling the flesh to avoid burning her skin. The burn caused by the heat of cooked food. There was only one remedy for the other kind of heat.
“Take a bite,” he said, watching intently.
She blew again, then sank teeth into white, flaky flesh. She’d been mostly kidding about the seasoning. She was hungry enough that her taste buds absorbed the delicate flavor as if it were a complex dish served on the finest china at a banquet. Izobelle chewed, thoughtful. Now what did she know about fine china and banquets?
“It’s good, thank you,” she said.
He nodded, satisfied, and rose. “You can have a whole fish, two if you’ve the appetite.”
“Careful,” she murmured as her walked back to the fire. “I might read something into you trying to feed me.”
Crouching down at the fire, Malvin poked his own fish. “Read as much as you like.”
Izobelle wondered for a while what exactly he meant by that.
***
She woke out of sleep with a roar, Bear ripping her into wakefulness.
“Izobelle!”
The lash of Malvin’s voice spurred her. She surged off the mattress, a half crouch, hands shifted to meaty claws. She growled, deep in her chest. He walked into the hut, keeping the door wide open behind him. And stopped, waiting.
Inhaling, she struggled with Bear for several second, teeth gritted against the impulse to shift. Couldn’t let the Other out, not now when it would be difficult to rein Her in, keep her from a wild rampage. Izobelle snarled, frustrated, rising to her feet. Bear might be awake, but she still remembered nothing.
“Bad dream,” she said, voice rough.
His shoulders relaxed. “Are you… yourself?”
“No.”