Nalini Singh - The Magical Christmas Cat

"Did he tell you?" she asked in that husky voice that brushed like black velvet over his skin. The cat stretched out, asking for more. Being stroked by Ms. Kildaire, he thought, both sides of him in agreement, might just be the best Christmas present ever.

"Yes, he gave up the goods."

She waited. "And?"

"And I can't tell you." He watched her brow furrow, her lips purse. He couldn't decide if he wanted to bite down on that full lower lip or lick the upper one.

"Mr. . . . Zach."

"Quinn," he supplied. "Zach Quinn."

Her cheeks flared with little red spots of temper. "Mr. Quinn, Bryan is a child. I expect you to act like an adult."

Oh, he had plenty of plans to act like an adult around Ms. Kil­daire. "I promised JB."

She stared at him, then blew out a breath. "And promises are to be kept."

"Yes."

"What do you suggest I do?" She folded her arms. "I have to punish him, and I can't do that without knowing why he did what he did."

"I'll take care of it." Bryan had hit someone, and his nephew knew he'd be disciplined for it, provocation or not. But some things, Zach knew, were worth fighting over. "I'll make sure the punishment fits the crime."

"It's a school matter."

"It's a leopard matter."

Understanding filtered into those pretty melted-chocolate eyes. "He's usually so well controlled, I forget he's only seven."

"Boy'll grow up to be one of the dominants, probably a soldier." He glanced behind him. "Ready?"

Bryan nodded, backpack slung over his shoulder. "Yep."

Zach watched as his nephew walked up to the desk and said, "I'm sorry I dis—"a frown of concentration—"disrupted the classroom. But I'm not sorry I hit Morgan."

Zach was looking at Annie and saw her struggle to hide a smile. "That's not a very good attitude, Bryan."

"I know. And I'm ready for the punishment. But I'm still not sorry."

Brown eyes flicked to him. "Is stubbornness a family trait?" Her lips curved just a little, just enough to make everything in him sit up in attention.

"Now that, sweetheart," he said, a stunning realization taking form in his chest, "is something you'll have to decide for yourself." Well, hell.

She colored again. "Thank you for coming in, Mr. Quinn. I'll look forward to seeing Bryan in class on Monday."

He didn't move, tasting the realization that had him by the throat. It was hot, wild, right. Utterly, absolutely right. The knowl­edge made his smile slow and seductive. "Why don't you walk out with us?" The corridors had been close to empty when he arrived, and he couldn't hear any movement now. No way was he leaving sweet Annie Kildaire alone in a building with winter darkness only an hour away at most.

"I'll be out in a moment." She began to gather the papers on her desk.

"We'll wait." He glanced at Bryan. "Can you wait?"

"Yep." A sunny smile. "But I'm hungry."

Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a muesli bar he'd grabbed on his way here. "I got you this for the ride home."

Bryan caught it with cat-quick reflexes and happily went off to scramble into a seat, backpack at his feet. Meanwhile, Ms. Kildaire was giving him a guarded kind of look. "Really Mr. Quinn—"

"Zach. You can only call me Mr. Quinn when you're angry."

"Mr.—"

"Zach."

Her hand fisted. "Fine. Zach."

He smiled, liking that she was already comfortable enough to argue with him. Some women found him a little too dangerous to play with. And he very much wanted to play with Annie. "Yes, Teach?"

He could hear her gritting her teeth. "I'll be perfectly fine walk­ing out alone. I do it every day of the week."

He shrugged, enjoying the verbal sparring. "I'm here today."

"And what you says goes?" Looking down, she shoved her pa­pers into an untidy pile.

"Unless you can talk me out of it." He saw her jaw set and knew she was gritting those human teeth again. All that beautiful pas­sion, he thought in pleasure, hidden behind the shyness that had first stained her cheeks. .

"And why should I be talking you out of anything?" She grabbed what looked like a black leather-synth satchel and put the papers inside. "You're nobody to me."

The cat didn't like that. The man didn't either. "That wasn't very nice."

She turned to shoot him a glare, then recommenced packing her satchel. He could almost see her trying to figure out if he was being serious or if he was teasing her. That it took her that much focus, told him she hadn't been teased much. That was a shame. Because when Annie got mad, she forgot to be shy.

Now, she slapped her satchel closed and swung it over her shoul­der. Or tried to. Zach slid it out of her hand and brought the strap over his head, settling it diagonally across his body.

"Mr. Quinn!" She looked like she wanted to bite him.

His cat purred in interest, even as Bryan giggled. "Nobody calls Uncle Zach that."

"Yeah, nobody does," Zach added. "Come on, Jumping Bean. We're moving out." He nodded at the coat thrown carelessly over the back of Annie's chair. "Don't forget that. It's cold out." He began to walk to the door, knowing she'd have no choice but to follow.

After a taut second, she did. He heard her clothing rustle as she put the coat on over her stern gray pants and tailored white shirt, his mind obliging him with a fantasy slide show of the feminine softness he knew lurked underneath. Pity it was all covered up now.

"After you, Teach." Letting Bryan scamper a few feet ahead, he held the door open and watched Annie Kildaire walk toward him.

Her limp was very slight, but even that meant the injury had to have been horrendous. Either that, or the impairment was a natu­ral one surgeons hadn't been able to repair fully. And there wasn't much surgeons couldn't repair these days. "What happened to your leg?" he asked once they were out in the hallway.

She faltered for a second before her shoulders squared. "There was a freak bullet-train derailment when I was seven. My leg was crushed so badly, it was pretty much unrecognizable as anything other than meat with a few fragments of bone."

He heard the simmering pride in her, had the sense that she was bracing herself for a blow. "They did a good job of reconstructing it. Titanium?"

He could tell from her expression that that wasn't the response she'd expected. "No. Some kind of new plassteel. Very high-tech. It 'grew' as I grew, so I only needed a couple of extra surgeries over the years."

"And now?"

"I shouldn't need any work done on it unless I injure the leg in some way."

Zach knew that couldn't be all of it. "Still hurt?"

She hesitated. "Sometimes." She indicated a corridor to their left. "I want to make sure Morgan's been picked up."

"JB, hold up." Knowing he could trust the boy not to dart out­side, he followed Annie the short distance to the sick bay. Looking over her shoulder, he saw the darkened interior. "He's gone."

She jumped. "You walk like a cat!"

"I am a cat, sweetheart." He wanted to tease her again, so he let a low growl rumble up from his chest. "See?"

Streaks of vibrant color stained her cheeks once more. But she didn't back down. "Are you planning to move?"

"No." He drew in a deep breath, fighting the urge to nuzzle at her throat. "You smell good. Can I taste you?" It was a half-serious question. "Just a little?"

"Mr. Quinn!" She took a step around him and headed off.

But he'd already caught the tart bite of arousal in her scent. Satisfied, he followed, on his best behavior now. It wouldn't do to scare Annie away. Not when he planned to keep her.

A moment later, they reached the front door, where Bryan was waiting. Zach pulled it open. "Stay with me," he told his nephew. The boy was leopard-fast, but he was still a boy. Sometimes, he didn't look where he was going, and cars could hurt him as easily as they could a human or Psy child.