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“Did I hurt you last night?”
I could’ve used many words to describe last night, but pain wasn’t one of them. “No.”
“I wasn’t sure since you told me to stop.”
“Yes, at five in the morning.” He just kept going and going, and at about five o’clock, my body gave out. “I had to have sleep. But I’m nice and rested now.” Why did that just come out of my mouth?
He looked like a cat who’d gotten into a pantry and had himself a cream and catnip party. “Is that a hint?”
“Would you like it to be?” I just couldn’t stop myself.
He grinned and slid into the bed next to me. “Yes.”
Half an hour later, I escaped and started looking for my clothes. The air smelled of java—he’d made coffee for me.
I got dressed and went into the kitchen to fry an omelet and call Andrea for updates.
“You’re two hours late,” she told me. “Are you okay? You’re never late. Do you need me to come and get you?”
“No. I’m fine. Just tired.”
Curran loaded bread into the toaster.
“Any news of my Mary?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
We dodged the bullet. “Thanks.”
“Wait, don’t hang up.”
“Yes?”
Andrea lowered her voice. “Raphael found out more gossip about the gym thing.”
Curran glanced at me.
I had to head her off at the pass before she said something Raphael would regret. “Now isn’t the best time . . .”
“Look, you, I’m hiding in the armory with the phone, watching the door, and whispering so nobody will overhear me. I feel like a kid cutting class hiding in the bathroom with a joint. The least you can do is hear me out. Raphael says that Curran lay there on the weight bench for fifteen whole minutes trying to lift the damn bar, even though it was welded on there.”
Curran’s face took on an inscrutable impression.
“Aha,” I said. “Aha” was a good word. Noncommittal.
“He broke it.”
“I’m sorry?”
“He broke the bar off. And then he smashed the bench with the bar. Bashed the thing to pieces.”
Just kill me now. “Aha.”
“He must have a lot of frustration. The man’s unstable. So watch your back, okay?”
“Will do. Thanks.”
I hung up and looked at him. “You broke the bench.”
“You broke it. I just finished the job.”
“It wasn’t one of my brightest moments.”
He shrugged. “No. I just didn’t get it until I saw the catnip. I thought you were taunting me. It was unexpected.”
He growled under his breath. “I’m going to muzzle Raphael.”
“He just wants his financial machinations approved.”
“Are you asking me to do this for him?”
“No.”
I turned the gas off and got out two blue metal plates. I’d given up on breakable plates after the last time my front door got broken and demonic mermaids wrecked my kitchen. I split the omelet between the plates and stopped when Curran’s arms closed about me. He pulled me against him, pressing my back against his chest. I heard him inhale my scent. His lips grazed my temple. Here we were, alone, in my kitchen, holding each other while breakfast cooled on the table. This was some sort of alternate universe, with a different Kate, who wasn’t hunted like a wild animal and who could have these sorts of things.
“What’s up?” I asked softly.
“Just making sure you know you’re caught.”
He kissed my neck and I leaned against him. I could stay for days wrapped in him like this. I’d sunk in way too fast and way too deep. Yes, this was all well and good, but what happened when he saw the next conquest on the horizon? The thought cut at me. Apparently, I was still fragile. “I didn’t break any bones last night, did I?”
“No. But that was a hell of a kick. I saw pretty lights for a moment or two.”
“Served you right.”
We broke apart, slightly awkward. He checked the fridge. “Is there any pie?”
“In the bread box.”
He extracted the pie from the box and sniffed the crust. “Apple.”
“Made it yesterday.” Magic apples thawed well.
“For me?”
“Maybe.”
“Before or after the chair?”
“After. Although I was really pissed off at you. What the hell did you use?”
“Industrial glue. It’s inert until you add a catalyst to it. I took off the fabric and filled the chair with a bag of glue in thin plastic, covered the plastic with catalyst, put sponges on top, and reupholstered the thing.”
That was why it didn’t feel weird sitting on it. The moment I sat down, the bag broke, glue and catalyst mixed, and the sponges stuck to my butt. “That must’ve taken a long time.”
“I was very motivated.”
“Did you know the glue produces heat when mixed with acetone?”
His lips curved. “Yes.”
“Would it have killed you to mention it?”
He chuckled.
“Oh, get over yourself,” I growled.
Curran dug into his omelet. I drank my coffee and watched him try my cooking. Most shapeshifters avoided spicy food. It dulled their senses. I’d used half of the salt I normally stuck in there, and none of the jalape?os made it in.
For some reason it was terribly important that he liked it.
He hooked a piece of omelet with his fork and chewed it with obvious pleasure. “Did Doolittle talk to you about the body?”
“No. Any news on the missing shapeshifters?”
Curran nodded. His face turned grim.
“Bad news?” I guessed.
“They went wild.”
I stopped with the coffee cup halfway to my mouth. It was often said that the shapeshifter had only two options: going Code or going loup. The first demanded sacrifice and iron discipline, the second catapulted them down the path of wild abandon, turning them into murderous cannibalistic maniacs. There was the third option, which almost never happened. A shapeshifter could forget their humanity completely. It wasn’t loupism in the strict sense, because loups shifted into human shape frequently, if only to taunt their victims while they ripped them apart. Wild shapeshifters regressed so deeply into their animal forms that they lost the ability to transform, to speak, and probably to form coherent human thoughts. Going wild was so rare, I could count the known cases on the fingers of one hand. It usually happened when a shapeshifter was forced to maintain animal form for extended periods of time—months, sometimes years.
