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Cetus sighed, a froth of bubbles as the last of his air left his lungs. He must be the only shark shifter ever who hated the scent and taste of blood. But he had to choke this down, whether he liked it or not. The price of pleasing the crowd.
Whatever it was, he bit down, releasing blood into the water that swirled around him. Instinct sent a thrill through him – of the hunt, of the chase, of victory, but it couldn’t erase the sour taste of blood on his tongue as he hastily swallowed. He could still taste the cloud of blood in the water. Ugh.
He circled the arena, once, twice, three times, doing his best to dispel the foul cloud, but it only seemed to spread, instead of dissolving, as it should. Something in the water, he guessed. Something that wasn’t blood, for the taste was dissipating, while the redness did not.
All for the show, he told himself. Part of the price of this swim, and the catering contract.
Another morsel landed in the water. Ah, a live one, this time. Harder to catch as it swam away from him, toward the moat wall.
His orders had been clear – he could not let anyone get away without being bitten. So with another inward sigh, Cetus headed for the man who’d fallen in the water. Only to have something shoved into his open mouth before he could reach him.
Blood blossomed…no, wait, that didn’t taste like blood at all. Red dye, or something, clouded the water until he couldn’t see. He could sense the man swimming away, toward the suddenly open hatch in the wall, but Cetus didn’t care. One man, one bite, as ordered. He’d done his job, and despite his fearsome form, he wasn’t a killer.
He was a cake maker, and a stellar one, at that. He was doing this so he could keep making cakes. An ocean of blood was worth that, he told himself as he circled, chased, chomped and resumed circling. Hours passed, or maybe it was only minutes. It was hard to tell in the water, for the fight seemed to go on forever.
Until finally, the water rang with the chime of a thousand bells. The battle was over, and while he hadn’t actually had to fight anyone, not really, Cetus couldn’t help but feel like he’d won.
Chapter Eight
When Cetus emerged from the moon pool, the wall screen showed the next battle beginning, but his clothes were nowhere to be seen. Swearing, he headed out into the maze of corridors, following his nose to the function room where the food would be laid out. Someone had to be there, and they’d be able to tell him where his clothes had gone, surely.
Yet the corridors were strangely empty, and while the buffet tables groaned with food, not a single person was in sight. They must be all out in the stands, watching the battle.
In that case, he should check that his cakes were all right, while he was here.
Cetus stalked past all manner of savoury things, including a mountain of pies that must have come from the Bear Claw Bakery, until he found the cakes. Just as Patroclus had promised, someone had taken care of them, and even he was proud to see the display. All except the venom-laced cupcake in pride of place on top, where it shouldn’t be.
“What are you doing in here?” a female voice demanded. “And where are your clothes?”
Cetus snatched up the cupcake in one hand and grabbed a plated cake in the other, using it to shield the essentials as he turned around.
It was her – the woman from the Bear Claw Bakery. Not the pastrychef, the one who’d bought all the pies. What was her name again? Maria? Lara? No, Lamia.
“I was just making sure the cakes were okay. I had to dash off as soon as I delivered them. And…I don’t know where my clothes are. I left them down by the pool, and they seem to have vanished. I don’t suppose you can help me find them? And the other cupcake? Looks like this?” He held it out.
She hesitated. “That’s in my office. Which would be a suitable place for you to wait until I can find you some clothes.”
Probably a good idea. He hadn’t been particularly attached to the coverall he’d donned this morning, but he could hardly head home without it, or at least one just like it. There were public decency laws in the Colony, after all.
Argh, but there’d been the business cards in the pocket – the ones Orel had insisted he hand out to people at the after party. Maybe he did need to find his coverall, after all.
Lamia’s office was surprisingly spacious – with a desk, a wall filled with shelves, plus a big couch. Her window didn’t have the kind of views Achilles’ office did, but that was probably because he was the Boss and she just took care of catering.
In pride of place on her desk was his missing cupcake, plated up like it was going to be served as someone’s dessert.
He should probably eat one of them now, so the venom could take effect by the time the battle was over, and he went out to see how people liked his cakes. He wolfed it down, savouring the mix of sweetness with just the right amount of bitterness from the chocolate, without tasting even a hint of the venom in the frosting. He was just licking the last of the frosting off his lips when Lamia returned, carrying a folded coverall.
“There were plenty of spares in Tech Services. Someone probably took yours to be laundered, so you may as well take this as a replacement to keep. Let me know if it fits, or I can get you another one.” She passed him the folded fabric, then pointedly turned her back and stared out the window.
Cetus stuck one foot, then the other, into the coverall, and tugged it up to his waist before he started fastening the buttons. The crackle of paper made him turn around – just in time to see Lamia set the empty wrapper from the second cupcake on her plate.
“You ate it!” he blurted out.
“And I’m delighted I did. It was positively orgasmic – almost better than sex.” Her eyes seemed to shine with an unnatural light. “You know, a man who can make cake that heavenly probably knows a lot about pleasure. Which makes me wonder…whether you really want to go back to the function room for the after party, or whether you’d rather have a private party in here with me.”
For a long moment, he stood there, completely tongue tied. He’d wanted her from the moment he saw her in the Bear Claw Bakery, but hadn’t dared speak to her then.
But now…
