Nalini Singh - The Magical Christmas Cat

She swallowed. "Oh."

Zach could've kicked himself. He'd gone to all this trouble to lull her into a relaxed mood, then the cat had struck out in a burst of primitive jealousy. "Scared?"

Wary caution crept into her eyes, but she shook her head. "You said you wouldn't bite unless I asked . . . very nicely."

Surprise had the cat freezing. He'd forgotten that beneath the blushes and big brown eyes was a woman quite capable of calling him on his behavior. "That's true," he drawled, letting the cat out to play. "Come closer and ask me."

She shook her head again.

"Please."

Her cheeks colored, but he knew the heat wasn't because of em­barrassment. Her arousal was a decadent whisper in the confines of the car, a drug his cat could lap at for hours. But what he really wanted to do was lap at her. He moved a little closer.

She held up the phone. "I need to make this call." Her voice was breathless, her tone jagged.

Instinct urged him to keep pushing, but he didn't want to make her feel cornered. No, he thought,-shifting back into his seat, he'd do his teasing out in the open arms of the forest. "Go on, sweet­heart." He smiled. "I've got all day to play with you."

She sucked in a breath. "Is that what this is? Play?"

"Sure." He drove them back onto the road, knowing she was talking about more than his teasing promise—pretty, sexy An­nie Kildaire thought they were heading for a quick, hot fling. He grinned inwardly. Poor baby was going to get one hell of a surprise when he told her the truth, but she wasn't ready for that yet. "The best kind of play."

She was silent for a few minutes, then he heard her coding in the call. With her being so close, he could hear both sides of the conversation. Most humans who lived with changelings tended to get earpieces, so they could have private conversa-tions. He'd have to get Annie one, he thought absently.

"Mom, it's Annie. About tonight," she began.

"Don't you dare cancel, Angelica Kildaire."

Angelica?

"I'm not," Annie said, obviously attempting to keep her temper in the face of the sharp response. "I'll be late, and—"

"We're doing this for you," her mother interrupted. "The least you can do is turn up on time."

Annie pressed her fingers to her forehead and seemed to men­tally count to five. "I'm bringing a guest," she said without any lead-in. "His name is Zach."

Complete silence from the other end. Then, "Well good grief, Annie. Now you tell me. I'll have to find another woman to balance out the table. Who is he?"

"A DarkRiver soldier."

The silence was longer and deeper this time. Zach could feel Annie's distress at the reaction, but he was proud of her for sticking to her guns.

"Mom?"

"Aren't you a little too old for childish games?" her mother asked. "I know some women find those rough types attractive, but you have a brain. How long do you think he'll be able to keep that engaged?"

Zach's cat smiled in feral amusement. He was used to the pre­conceptions some humans, and most Psy, had about changelings. The majority of the time, it rolled off his back. But this time, it mattered. Because this was Annie's mother.

"I am not having this discussion with you," Annie said, tone final. "We'll be there for dinner. If you'd rather we didn't come, just say so."

"No, bring him," was the immediate response. "I want to meet this Zach who's got you ordering your own mother around." She hung up.

Annie stared at the phone for several seconds before thrusting it back into her pocket. "How much did you hear?"

"All of it."

She shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry—"

"Annie, sweetheart, leave your mom to me." He shot her a grin brimming with deliberate wickedness. "Today, I want to lead you astray."

Her returning smile was a little shy but full of a quiet mischief he figured most people never saw. "Are you sure I'm not already beyond redemption?"

He chuckled. "How could you be with a name like Angelica?"

She made a face. "I'm an Annie, not an Angelica."

"I prefer Angel."

"Do you like your women angelic?"

He chuckled. "No, baby, I like my woman exactly as she is." He knew he'd surprised her, waited to see what she'd do.

"So, this thing . . . you want more than just a day?"

He wasn't going to lie to her. "Are you going to run if I say yes?" He pulled into the forest proper, taking a narrow track that would lead them to one of the smaller waterfalls. It was only a trickle right now because of the cold, but it was still a sight to be seen.

"I'm here today, aren't I?" A question with a slight acerbic bite.

Tasting the piquancy of it on his tongue, he decided he liked it. "All alone with a big, bad cat who's rethinking his policy on biting."

Arousal colored the air again, and he sucked in a breath to con­tain his most primal instincts. "Look ahead," he said, voice husky.

"Oh!" Her eyes went huge. "It's a buck," she whispered, as if afraid the animal would hear her. "His antlers are huge."

Zach slowed the vehicle to a crawl, but the buck caught his scent and shot off into the trees. "Sorry. They tend to scatter the instant they smell leopard. It's why I look after the predators—it's hard for me to check data on the nonpredatories."

"They know they're prey." She looked at him. "Do you hunt them?"

"When the cat needs it, yes." He glanced at her. "Can you han­dle knowing that?"

"I teach a lot of little cats," she reminded him in a prim, school­teacher voice. "I might not be an expert on changeling behavior, but I've picked up enough to know that when in animal form, you behave according to the needs of the animal."

He couldn't help himself. He turned and snapped his teeth at her, making her jump. When he began to chuckle, her eyes narrowed. "You're as bad as Bryan. He does that to Katie all the time."

"Odds on, he has a crush on her."

Her lips twitched. "That's what I think, too. Was the fight about Katie?"

"Sneaky, Ms. Kildaire, but I'm sworn to secrecy." Laughing at the face she made, he reached over to tug at her pony tail. "You up to a small hike?"

Shadows swept across her face. "You don't think I can do it?"

He parked the vehicle off to the side of the track and turned. "I don't know your limits yet," he told her honestly. "That's why I'm asking."

She colored. "Sorry. I'm a bit touchy on the whole subject."

He shrugged. "If I think you can't do something, I'll make sure you're not doing it." Protecting the vulnerable was instinct. Pro­tecting Annie would probably become an obsession.

"You'll make sure I'm not doing it?" The arch sound of a human female metaphorically flexing her claws.

"Definitely." He held her gaze. "I'm flexible, little cat, but I'm not a pushover."

Her arousal spiked at his words, but so did her anger. "As if I ever believed that."

"Annie, you're used to academic types who probably let you walk all over them."

"Hold on," she began, eyes snapping with temper.

God, she was pretty. He reached forward while she was distracted, gripped her chin. And kissed her.

She was softer than he'd imagined, more luscious than any­thing he'd ever experienced. Cat and man both purred in­wardly, and when her lips parted on a gasp, he swept inside to taste her. Sweet and tart, innocent and woman, she was his own personal brand of intoxication.

He bit her lower lip, sucked on it, let her gasp in another breath before kissing her again. "Mmm." It was a sound of sheer pleasure as he indulged his need to touch this woman. Leopard changelings were tactile as a rule—something that translated into sensual affection in a relationship. It didn't always have to lead to sex. Sometimes it was just about the pleasure of skin-to-skin contact.