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It… talked? She attempted to shake the revelation off. After all, there were many monsters that spoke and had a clear sentient language that they were still hired to deal with. Raiding orcs and trolls, minotaurs that attacked towns, centaurs… talking did not make an exception but sentience was always something that was carefully weighed and the cause of the attacks thoroughly researched.
“Look you… you. If you dare bite my face… the moment those teeth come down, my dagger goes up.”
The creature’s brow furrowed and as her vision cleared, she realized the leonine face bore distinct human characteristics. In fact, it seemed slightly more human than feline, with only the slight exaggeration of the lion around the rise of the muzzle around the lips, the mane, and the conical ears that peaked out from it. The mane itself almost seemed absurdly styled in ringlets, especially around the pair of horns that jutted from its brow. Its lips closed over its teeth as it regarded her, and its nostrils flared in its broad, almost humanoid nose. The corner of the mouth quirked faintly.
“Strange thing,” it muttered. “It seems we are at an impasse.”
“Only for the moment,” she countered. “I’m bred for the hunt. I can be patient.”
Its gravelly chuckle filled the cave, startling her. “As am I, little one. But I can outlast a tiny human…” it breathed in again, “female.” There was a slight note of wonder in its voice and its head lowered closer to blink down at her with its luminous green eyes and its nostrils flared again, as if drawing in her scent. “Very masculine in trade and garb, but definitely female. How curious.”
“Nothing curious about it,” she bit out, infuriated once more that her gender had anything to do with it. “A woman can kill you just as well as a man,” she pointed out hotly.
Another chuckle filled the cavern, this time with considerably more warmth and interest, even though the creature did not give her even an inch more space. She felt something brush her leg in a lazy tap that reminded her of a cat’s tail, and she froze, her eyes widening as she recalled just what sort of tail the manticore was equipped with.
“Not even a man blessed by the gods would be successful in killing me,” he purred. “Perhaps a female might fare better, but it would be sad to find out and lose such delicious company when it has been so very long since I’ve laid eyes on a female’s rounded cheek.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at his wording. “What do you suggest, then?”
“Tea,” he rumbled, rising from her abruptly. “Or coffee, if you prefer. I have plenty of both. The caravans who come too close keep me well stocked.”
Abby blinked, her gaze following the manticore as he prowled from her on all fours before rising onto his hind legs like a man. It was then that she noticed that his build was very much like a man though his chest was broader and structured a bit different and his shoulders less defined and set further back, but he walked with ease without a glance back at her as if confident that she would either follow or that he could deal a killing blow if she dared attack.
Gritting her teeth, Abby pushed up to her feet. She absolutely hated being at a disadvantage.
Abby followedthe manticore through the long hall and around the bend, enjoying the warm bath of golden light as it intensified now that her eyes were adjusting to it. The cavern that it emptied into, however, struck her with wonder. This was no mean lair of a beast but was plush with furnishings and brightly colored rugs, and there, over a fire burning an enormous hearth, was a kettle.
“Coffee or tea?” the manticore repeated in its deep, gravelly voice and Abby jerked to attention, a blush of embarrassment rising to her cheeks that she had been caught gawking.
“Uh, tea, please,” she replied. She wasn’t about to tell him she hadn’t a clue what coffee was.
He turned toward her, his heavy leonine brow raising. “Do you care for mint?”
A flicker of a smile tugged at her lips before she squelched it. “Yes. I love mint, actually.”
The tip of its dangerous tail curled, and she swore she saw a hint of a smile on its face. “You will enjoy this. Green tea and mint. I do not have sugar, but it is pleasant enough without it for the human taste, I believe.”
“Thank you,” she replied automatically and then gave herself a brutal inward shake.
What was she saying? She was tasked with killing it and she was thanking it as if she were taking tea with a lonely neighbor. She frowned as she watched the manticore move toward the hearth with a clay pitcher. Fur covered its entire body but in a hide much like that of the lion it resembled, which meant she had more than an eyeful of the darker sac and genital sheath as the manticore turned that brought a blush to her cheeks. She tore her eyes away and stared at the kettle.
“I really don’t understand what we are doing,” she pointed out to his back.
“We are being civil,” he replied. “We may be designed to be enemies, but there is no reason to let civilization slide further into the abyss than it already has.”
Removing the lid from the kettle, he tipped the pitcher in his hand and a stream of water filled the metal vessel. She shifted impatiently on her feet.
“Right. I’m going to be honest here, I wasn’t exactly trained for… this,” she countered helplessly, drawing the manticore’s green gaze back to her.
His fur brow raised once more. “Not trained to take tea? I did not realize that it required such aptitude.”
She scowled back at him. “You know that’s not what I mean,” she countered. “Right now, I’m supposed to be finding a way to murder you and chop off your stinger so that I can take it back to Dezia and claim my reward. Not having tea.”
His tail swayed menacingly. “If it makes you feel any better, I can simply kill you now and spare you the duress of the unfamiliar.”
“No,” she amended quickly, and the corner of his feline-esque mouth pulled up as he nodded to a thickly upholstered chair.
“Then, please, sit,” he rumbled, turning his attention back to the kettle. “I dislike hovering guests.”
