Laurell Hamilton - Affliction

I looked at that golden-yellow eye set in that handsome face and realized that the idea excited at least part of him, maybe all of him. I didn’t know what to say to the eagerness I saw in his face, so I said nothing. We all stood there while the question was raised, and we all ignored it as hard as we could. In a few minutes I could stand on my own.

I fastened the heavy leather collar around the muscled velvet of Nathaniel’s neck. It had a flat silver plate attached to the front of the collar. There was a word carved into the metal in swirling letters.

Ares said, ‘Pussycat? Does that actually say Pussycat ?’

‘Yes,’ I said, as I attached the heavy leather leash to the collar. It was my turn not to make eye contact.

‘Pussycat?’ he said, again.

‘It’s her nickname for him,’ Nicky said.

‘And Asher’s for him, too,’ I said.

‘Asher mind-raped me like I was nothing and made me try to hurt you guys.’ He shuddered. ‘I’ve never had anyone roll me like that.’

‘There aren’t a lot of vampires that can call hyena.’

‘Good,’ he said. Then he looked down at the shiny silver plate and grinned. ‘Pussycat. The cops are going to love it.’

I frowned at him. ‘It was supposed to be private; at best he’d wear it at a fetish event. It wasn’t supposed to be used around the police – ever.’ Nathaniel rubbed his cheek against my thigh, and I petted the thick fur. I pushed my fingers through the thickness and found his skin underneath fever-hot to touch. Most animals run hotter than human-normal 98.6–100 degrees or higher usually. I hadn’t touched that many wereanimals in full animal form. Were they all this much hotter?

I sent Nicky to bring Al around so we could finally get started hunting for Henry and Little Henry Crawford.

Ares stayed beside me, grinning ear to ear.

‘What is so damned funny?’

‘Does everyone have a cute nickname?’

‘No,’ I said.

‘Aw,’ he said, ‘come on. Micah must have one, or maybe Sin?’

‘Drop this topic,’ I said.

Nicky came back with the police and it was time to introduce them to the big black pussycat at the end of my leash. I knew we’d won the day when some of them petted him, as if he were a big dog. But there were still more of them who wouldn’t approach too close, let alone touch the huge leopard. Al had a jacket and a used rag from the Crawfords’ truck so that Nathaniel could know what scent he was trying to follow. I saw Ranger Becker mouth the word Pussycat silently to herself as she read his collar. Her eyes flashed up to me, and she smiled, eyes shining so hard with suppressed humor that it showed in the odd light.

It was Travers who said, out loud, ‘Pussycat?’

I rolled my eyes at him, and Nathaniel scented the wind and went very purposefully toward the trees. ‘He’s got the scent.’ Nathaniel pulled against the leash hard enough that I started jogging to keep up. He moved faster, and so did I. He gave a small, eager noise, and we started running.

We ran in the dark, unfamiliar trees, with me fighting to stay with him. He was faster in this form, as if the extra legs gave him more horsepower, or more all-terrain power. My human body struggled to bend and weave through the pines. Their needles were everywhere on the thin earth, the rocks, so that the world smelled like Christmas trees and the sharp, clean smell of leopard. Just as tattoos stayed on the skin under the fur, so the shampoo and soap he’d used earlier was still there intermingled with the scent of leopard. I could smell the leather of the leash handle as my hand warmed it. The pine needles had killed almost everything on the thin, rocky earth, so that as long as I ducked under the branches I could run full out, trusting that if I turned when he turned, followed his body like a guide through the trees, I’d be fine. I kept my free hand up to guard my face from the branches that he didn’t have to worry about but my human form was tall enough to catch.

I felt Nicky to our left, but it wasn’t the human part of me that felt him; my lioness knew he was there. It was the first hint I had that he was tied to me as my Bride, and as a lion; as a Bride he sensed me more than I sensed him, but the lion part of me was more aware of him. I glimpsed Nicky like a pale shadow under the trees. I tried to sense Ares, but I had nothing for him, no metaphysical tie and no connection to his hyena. I had to use my human eyes to look to our right and find him racing through the trees to keep up with us. I knew that Nicky could feel me, but Ares was as blind metaphysically to me as I was to him. We had to look for each other; maybe he could smell my scent more than I could his, but even without a stronger connection he was there, at our side, racing on long legs through the trees.

I heard yelling behind us, and I realized it was Al and all the other police. I hadn’t thought about them until that moment. The world had narrowed down to the leopard at my side, the uneven ground, the swipe of pine branches against my upraised arm, Nicky like a satellite at our side and the noise and movement that was Ares.

I slowed, and Nathaniel pulled at the end of the leash. I had a sense of just how strong he might be and knew that if he didn’t want me to walk him on the leash he would pull me off my feet and ‘walk’ me.

I said, ‘Nathaniel, slow,’ a firm command, the way I’d been taught years ago to talk to a big dog when you could tell by body language it was about to do something you’d regret. The very big cat slowed and looked back over its shoulder at me. There was some appeal on its – his – face. I couldn’t read it, and I wanted to. I lowered my shields just a bit more and suddenly the night was alive with scent and sound and touch that hadn’t been there before.

The smells were everywhere, like a thick, invisible blanket that moved and filled me with so … there was something small and furry to our right. It was eatable and smelled like a mouse, but not. The pines were so strong that he’d filtered out the scent the way that a human would react to the constant hum of machinery; eventually you tune it out, but there were so many other things to smell: I would have said I could smell leaves, but there were sharp green smells, old brown smells, and it wasn’t the leopard adding the color in my head, that was me, because my human mind had no words for the variety and difference in each scent. I added color, because I couldn’t understand without adding some visual cue to all the smells. In human form I didn’t have the part of the brain big enough to decipher things purely as smell. I was a primate and we’re visual, so I tried to translate all that rich, wonderful information into colors – that smell was sharp, hot, red; that one soft, peaceful, blue; spicy was brown and red; spruce was blue and green; pine was like an ocean of green that we kept having to swim free of to sense anything else. I knew the term nose-deaf for hunting dogs, but I’d never realized just how limited my world was to my beasts. How frustrated they must have been to be trapped inside this human body with its limited ability to scent the wind.

I’d always thought my beasts resented this less dangerous body – no claws, no fangs, no way to climb and run the way they wanted to, but I stood there in the forest with Nathaniel’s leopard trying to share everything he was sensing and my human brain could not translate it. I got glimpses of it, bits, pieces, and it was amazing, but I knew that it was like trying to explain color to the blind. How do you explain red without resorting to heat? Fire, but that’s orange and yellow, even blue, and white-hot heat is a term for a reason. How do you explain red to someone who has never seen it? How did the beast explain scent to my nearly blind human nose?