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He’d descended upon the bowl the second I put it on the adorable cartoon fishbone mat that designated his feeding spot. He ate like he’d never been fed before in his life, even though his physique said otherwise.
As he devoured his meal, I went to take a look at Eva’s powder room door. I felt bad for breaking it and was hoping it would be an easy fix, but the wood around the handle had cracked under the excessive force I’d used. I’d have to get her a whole new door.
I went back into the kitchen to see that Sriracha had already finished his food. Now that his belly was full, I figured he would be much more approachable. I inched in and reached for his empty bowl. The cat moved fast, claws extended, and I snatched my hand away just in time. Okay, cat. Your dirty bowl could stay.
Eva came down the stairs carrying a gray and black leopard print gym bag. She had on a tight-fitting sweater tunic and printed gray leggings. I usually didn’t notice what women wore unless it was super flashy, but the blue sweater hugged her form in such a way that it had the blood draining from my big brain up top down to my other one down below.
Realizing I was staring like an idiot, I pretended I was only looking at the print on her leggings. I squinted, trying to make out the pattern. Oh.
“There are humping cats on your pants,” I blurted out.
“So? What’s wrong with that?” she asked defensively.
“Nothing.”
She caught sight of my arm and frowned. I looked down too, but couldn’t see anything wrong with the illusion.
“How did you manage to feed him without getting all scratched up?”
So she’d sent me on a dangerous mission, knowing full well what would happen.
I held my arm out, turning it. I could say I was too fast for her feline friend, but that would be a lie. Sriracha was very quick. “My skin is tough. His claws can’t puncture it.”
Eva grabbed my arm in disbelief, sending a tiny shock of awareness right through me. She didn’t react to it, though, so I must have been the only one who’d felt it. She massaged the skin of my forearm with her fingers, as if trying to find secret scratches hidden by the illusion. She frowned, and I wondered just how powerful the glamour spell I had was.
Some spells only offered a small amount of protection, hiding our bodies behind a visual illusion. Most hid what you were by way of touch too, but they were far from foolproof, meant only for occasional, accidental contact.
Eva was doing a lot more than that. Did it feel like skin to her? Or fur?
Her furrowed brows told me I didn’t feel normal, that was for sure.
“What the…”
Surely she knew I was in glamour.
Unlike some monsters who had chosen to forgo illusion spells altogether since the fall of The Wall, I opted to wear mine as much as possible. Mainly because people reacted horribly to my scorpion tail, and I hated causing a scene.
Occasionally, when I wanted to use my natural form to intimidate, I went au naturel. But that was only for special occasions and at Desmon’s request. Apparently, a human guard was a lot less intimidating than a manticore and having a monster of legend guarding his special displays added to the appeal.
I wasn’t able to shift into a fully human form, but I could choose between a real lion’s body on all fours or the anthropomorphic version that stood on two legs. I considered the latter to be my “natural” form, since it was the one I used most in daily life behind the illusion. It was also a lot more convenient, since almost everything was designed with human bodies in mind.
I was still furry all over, and while my hands were more like paws with claws than human hands, I did have opposable thumbs. Just don’t ask me to use chopsticks or anything like that. My hands were horrible for intricate work; they were designed instead for picking up weapons and smashing whatever needed to be smashed. The best thing ever to happen to society was the switchover to typing rather than using a pen. I could type just fine, but my penmanship rivaled that of doctors when it came to legibility.
Eva’s hands had moved down from my forearm to my palm. “It’s…velvety.” She closed her eyes and continued to touch me.
I clenched my jaw to stop the rumbling that threatened to start in my chest. I was a monster. Even the name manticore, meaning man-eater, was meant to strike fear. I did not purr like a mere housecat. But my chest, it seemed, hadn’t gotten that memo. A loud rumble escaped, and that had Eva’s eyes popping back open again.
“If you’re done molesting my cat,” I said with a smirk, throwing her own words back at her, “the door is that way.”
She scowled and snatched her hand away. “You’re no kitten.”
“No? Then what am I?”
She wrinkled her nose. So cute. “Well, you can’t be a shifter because then you wouldn’t need an illusion spell. What type of monster is furry all over?”
“Not all over, actually. This is my real face.”
My tail was also smooth, though she’d probably freak out if she saw or touched it. That was the part that scared people the most. A lion with a man’s face usually had people gasping. The wyvern wings made their jaws drop. And then the scorpion tail had them running.
