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I so did not want to show Menolly my secret shame, but she wouldn’t rest now that I’d let the cat—metaphorically speaking—out of the bag. I pulled a plastic shopping bag from the bottom of the box and, rolling my eyes, tossed it to her.
She yanked it open. As she withdrew the gold lamé pants and the matching fringe halter top, she began to shake, the smirk on her face growing.
“I told you,” I muttered, trying to snatch it back from her.
“No you don’t!” she said, darting away. “You are so wearing this tonight! I know it . . . isn’t exactly your style—”
“That’s an understatement.” Glaring at her, I flounced over to my bed and flopped down on it, bemoaning my fate. “Being caught out in public decked out in that getup is going to be the most humiliating night of my life . . . well . . . other than walking in on Chase when he was dipping his cock into Erika’s pussy.”
“Somehow, that strikes me as more infuriating than humiliating,” she said. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed. If he needs some sniveling, snot-nosed debutante to make him feel like a man, it’s not your fault. But . . .” She paused, looking hesitant, like she wanted to say more.
“What is it? You obviously have an opinion on the subject that you haven’t shared with me.” I sat up, waiting.
“Yeah, I do, but I don’t know how you’ll take it.”
“Just say it, then.”
“All right.” Menolly stared at me. “If you want my opinion, Chase was looking for reassurance. It can’t be easy, Kitten, to be an FBH and have your lover not only be stronger than you, but faster, more magical, and more sexual. Let’s face it. Any one of the three of us is a handful for any man—or woman. It takes a strong person to stand beside a partner with Fae blood without feeling emasculated. Chase has been overwhelmed keeping up with both facets of his job. He sees you outfighting and outshining him all the time. I’m just saying, it’s got to sting his ego.”
I stared at the quilt on my bed, fighting back a desire to smack her across the face. I never treated Chase like he was subpar. Never. Then I stopped. We all did. Not intentionally, but there was no way around it. We were always telling him to get out of the way in a fight, or get behind us, or stay behind because it was too dangerous. But that was for his own protection, not because we thought he was “lesser” than we were. For the first time, I realized that he might not see it that way, though.
“Oh my gods,” I whispered. “You’re right. He was an ass for lying to me, but you’re right. He might have turned to Erika because he needed to feel like the strong one for a change.” I stared at the pattern on my quilt. “Mother never felt like that around Father. Do you think?”
I’d never once heard a word of complaint out of our mother’s mouth about Father being so strong or long-lived. In fact, she’d refused the chance to grow far older with him than her life span normally allowed because she didn’t think she could handle the extra years.
Menolly sat on the bed next to me and took my hand in hers. “There’s no telling. Not now. But I do know this: Mother never wanted to be a Guardsman. She never aspired to a life outside of being a good wife and mother. Hearth and home was her domain, and Father didn’t intrude, so there was no competition between them. We don’t know if they had problems in the bedroom, but their dynamics were totally different than the dynamics between you and Chase. Why do you think I’ve been so hesitant about supporting your relationship?”
“I just thought you didn’t like Chase,” I said in a small voice.
“At first, I didn’t, but no. That’s not the reason. He’s one of the good guys. Someone we need, someone we can trust. But he’s FBH, and that makes him vulnerable. Since we’re all embroiled in dangerous work, that puts the both of you on the same playing field. And it isn’t level, Kitten. Let me tell you that.” She shrugged. “Even if we manage to save him, I have no idea how you can overcome this obstacle. Not unless he can detach and not take it personally.”
I stared bleakly at the floor. She was right. How could I have been so blind? But I didn’t have much experience with relationships. I wasn’t used to handling the nuances of sharing my life with someone else. This whole love thing was new to me, and now I wondered, was I cut out for it? I was a cat, for the sake of the gods. Cats were notoriously solitary.
“Kitten? Are you okay?” Menolly stood up and kissed me on the forehead. “We’d better get moving.”
“Okay? I have no idea,” I said softly. “But you’re right. We’ve got work to do.” I forced myself to stand as she stuffed the clothes in my hands. Right now, rescuing Chase took priority. “Are you sure that I have to wear this crap?”
She gave me a smile. “Brace yourself, but yes. If you’re going in as my pet, you have to dress the part, and trust me, blood whores wear shit like this.” The look on her face told me there was no wiggle room. “Change.”
“I do not want to wear this.” On my way to a whine fest, I pulled my best sad-kitty-eyes act, but even that didn’t sway her.
“Tough. What about boots? Do you have any high-heeled black boots? Stilettos, not mud thumpers.” Menolly looked ready to paw through my closet, so I motioned her aside and pulled a box down from the upper shelf and shoved it into her hands.
“Camille talked me into buying these. They’re cute, but they’ll put me at six five. You sure you want a pet that tall? You’re barely five one, you know.”
“So what? You’re tall, and I’m a vampire. Yes, these are good,” she said, examining them. “These are really pretty. We want you to stand out, Kitten, and we want you to fit a certain mold. The Fangtabula caters to vampires who keep pets and blood whores. If I go in there with you dressed in jeans and a wife-beater, people are going to question us right from the start, because they cater to clientele who look a little . . . sleazy. I just hope nobody recognizes me. My work with Wade could put me at a disadvantage.”
“I don’t wear wife-beaters,” I said, sliding out of my clothes. “I wear muscle shirts, okay? Tank tops.”
“Whatever the hell you want to call them.” She motioned to my panties and bra. “Those, too. You don’t have Camille’s boobs, so you can do without a bra. And you don’t want a visible panty line. Doesn’t matter if they’re tight and anything else shows. Just nothing that even hints of normalcy.”
“Trust me, I won’t have even a nodding acquaintance with normal when you get done with me.”
I worked my way into the skintight pants, holding my breath as they stretched over my hips and hugged my crotch. The material was scratchy and made me itch, and one look in the mirror told me that people were getting a free peep show under the flesh-hugging spandex. You could see my lips, and they weren’t the ones I used liner and gloss on.
I tried to tug the crotch down a little, but the material was molded to my body. Finally, I gave up, slipped the halter top over my head, and tied it around my neck. The halter ended about six inches above my belly button, draping my midsection with long, tasseled fringe that tickled. Actually, it made me want to turn into my tabby form and have a field day batting at it, but I squelched that thought.
Menolly handed me the boots, and I slipped them on, zipping them up. After that, I twirled for her, feeling totally ludicrous.
