Nalini Singh - The Magical Christmas Cat

Zach's expression turned serious. "Strength is for protecting, not hurting. Bryan knows that as well as anybody in the pack."

Annie's heart clutched at the absolute way he said that, as if it was simply a fact of life. That core of unflinching honor was one of the things she most admired about the DarkRiver males she'd met. The other was the way they didn't make even the slightest attempt to hide the adoration they felt for their mates. It was . . . nice.

It was also yet another point of contention between her and her mother. Professor Kimberly Kildaire had very determined views on what men should be like. The word "civilized" appeared often in the description, along with generous helpings of "rational"—a man who teased with sensual ease was far too wild to ever make the professor's cut.

However, Annie knew her own mind, and her reaction to Zach was anything but rational. "That's why," she said, forcing herself to think past the nerves that threatened to turn her mute, "I was so surprised by what he did. Frankly, I have no idea what could've caused it. Morgan and Bryan don't even tend to play together."

"Give me a couple of minutes with him." With a nod, he walked to his nephew. "Come on, Jumping Bean, let's talk."

"Over there." Bryan got up and led his uncle to the back of the classroom. Annie looked away out of politeness, knowing she wouldn't have been able to hear the conversation even if they hadn't moved—changeling hearing was generally far more acute than a human's. But, and though she tried to keep her eyes on the book reports, her curiosity got the better of her.

She looked up to see Zach crouched in front of Bryan, his arms braced loosely on his knees. The position had raised the sleeve of his T-shirt to expose part of a tattoo on his right biceps. She squinted. It was something exotic and curved, something that beckoned her to stroke. Thankfully, before she could surrender to the urge to get closer, Bryan began to gesture so earnestly, she wondered what on earth he was saying.

"I didn't even hit him that hard, Uncle Zach." Bryan blew out a breath that made his dark brown bangs dance. "He's a sissy."

"Bryan."

"I mean he's 'delicate,' " Bryan said, proving he had very big ears. "He's always crying, even when nobody does any-thing on pur­pose. He cried yesterday when Holly elbowed him by accident."

"Oh?"

"Yeah—Holly's a girl. And she's human."

Zach knew exactly what Bryan meant. No matter their animal, changelings were physically tougher than humans. Their bones were stronger, their bodies healed faster, and, in the case of preda­tory changelings, they could do a hell of a lot more damage. "Which doesn't explain why you hit him." He knew and liked his nephew. The boy had been born with a solid code of honor, a code that had been strengthened by the rules DarkRiver men lived by. "You know we don't bully weaker people."

A shamefaced expression. "I know."

"Did the cat get angry?" The leopard was part of who they were. But for the younger ones, the wilder side of their nature was some­times difficult to control.

Right then, Bryan's curvy temptation of a teacher shifted up front. Her delectable scent whispered over on disturbed air cur­rents, ruffling the leopard's fur in the most enticing way. He barely bit back a responsive groan. Sometimes, adults had trouble with the cat, too. "Come on, JB. You know I'm not going to get mad at you if you lost control."

"Yeah, I guess I kinda got mad." Bryan shuffled his feet. "I wanted to growl and bite, but I hit him instead."

"That's good." A leopard's jaws could do a lot of damage.

"And it wasn't just the cat," his nephew elaborated. "It was all of me."

Zach understood. They weren't human, and they weren't ani­mal. They were both. "What made you angry?"

"Morgan said something mean."

Zach knew that sometimes it was those who appeared weakest who bore the nastiest of streaks. At least Ms. Kildaire seemed well aware of that—he hadn't missed the fact that she hadn't automati­cally blamed Bryan. "Tell me what it was."

Bryan darted a glance toward his teacher, then leaned closer. "I didn't want to say anything to Miss Kildaire, 'cause she's nice, and I like her."

"I like her, too." A truer statement had never been said. There was something about the little teacher with her jet-black hair and dark brown eyes that had the cat purring in interest. He wondered if she realized she had one hell of a sexy mouth, then wondered if she'd let him do all sorts of wicked things to that mouth, hater, he promised himself. Right now, Bryan needed him. "What does this have to do with Ms. Kildaire?"

"Morgan said that his mother said that Miss Kildaire is sitting on a shelf."

Zach had to think about that one for a few seconds. "He said she's on the shelf?"

"Uh-huh." An emphatic nod. "I don't know why Miss Kildaire would sit on a shelf, but that's what Morgan said."

"I'm guessing there's more."

"And then Morgan said that his mother said that Miss Kildaire was too fat to get a man."

What a load of horseshit, Zach thought. Morgan's mother was probably some shriveled-up jealous twit. "I see."

"And then Morgan said she was a cripple."

Zach had a sudden urge to punch out the little rat himself. "Go on."

"I told him to take it back. Miss Kildaire is the nicest teacher at the school, and she's not a cripple just 'cause she has a sore leg sometimes and has to use a cane." Temper flared in Bryan's eyes, the irises shifting to the jagged green of the leopard.

"Hold the cat, Bryan," Zach said, forcing a choke hold on his own anger. Cubs had to be taught control. Once, a long time ago, the animal fury of changelings had run unchecked, and it had led to the carnage of the Territorial Wars.

The other races might've forgotten those tormented years, but changelings never would. And they'd never allow it to happen again. "Hold it." He put his hand on Bryan's arm and allowed a low growl to rise from his throat. It was a gesture of dominance, and it worked to bring Bryan's leopard back under control.

"Sorry."

Zach felt his own cat pacing inside him before it became dis­tracted by the exquisite scent of the luscious Ms. Kildaire. "It's okay. We all had to learn."

"Yeah." Bryan blew out a breath. "Anyway, Morgan kept saying she was a cripple, and I got mad and hit him."

Zach found himself in a quandary. He really couldn't disagree with his nephew's actions, but punching out another kid was against the rules. He looked into Bryan's intelligent face and made the only deci­sion he could. "JB, you know we don't condone this kind of violence."

Bryan nodded.

"But I understand the provocation." Lying wasn't how the pack worked. And Bryan was old enough to know that understanding didn't mean approval.

His nephew's face melted into a smile. "I knew you would." He threw his arms around Zach's neck.

Zach hugged that small, sturdy body and waited until Bryan drew back before asking, "Why didn't you call your dad? He would've understood, too." Joe ran a bar that was a favorite gather­ing place for the pack, but he was also a fellow soldier.

"He's watching Liam's soccer game today. I didn't want to mess that up—Liam's been practicing his kicks for like a month."

Zach ruffled his nephew's hair. "You're a good kid, JB." Standing, he nodded at the cubbyholes that lined the back of the classroom. "Grab your stuff while I go sort this out with Ms. Kildaire."

Bryan grabbed his hand. "You won't—"

"I won't say anything. Promise."

Relaxing, Bryan went to a cubby to their right and began to gather his things.

Zach watched Annie rise from her chair as he walked over and had to fight the urge to growl that she sit back down. He'd noticed her shakiness earlier—her left leg was bothering her. But if he said what he wanted to, he'd be as bad as that runt, Morgan. Annie Kil­daire had to be perfectly capable if she was running a classroom of seven-year-olds.