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I took it slow, eased into the room, and only sat near her after a couple of sincere invitations. I felt so relaxed I even wiggled my toes to show her how happy I was to not have to force human-tiger paws into constrictive human shoes.
That’s when everything shifted. I was bred to be a killer, to do my owners’ bidding. To accomplish that, I have super-acute senses. It seemed hardwired into my brain to effortlessly notice her pupils dilate, the muscles around her mouth slacken, and her breathing hitch.
While my mind cast about to find a reason for this change, my cock punched against my khaki shorts. Only when my brain caught up did I realize her scent changed from bordering on neutral to a state of full-on arousal.
As I sit next to her, it takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to glance out the plate-glass window to see if another male is approaching the shop, though I know there’s no one else around. It takes me a minute to accept it, but her arousal scent, sweet and full of promise, is all for me.
Prior to the females’ arrival, the soldiers hammered home a few salient points. “Human women don’t have animal DNA like you males. You may receive signals that they are attracted to you, aroused perhaps. That doesn’t mean they want you. Even we human males who’ve grown up with them our whole lives are still baffled by them. Do not, under any circumstances, assume they’re interested in you. Even if your nose tells you something different.”
My cock wasn’t listening during those lectures. But I was.
“So, what’s on the tablet?” Her voice is casual, detached.
Just as they warned me, I read her wrong. My sense of smell must be broken. Wishful thinking.
“Costumes. We’ll need costumes.”
She breathes, flashes me a smile, and holds out her hand for the pad. Instead of scrolling through the pages with her as I’d planned, I scoot my chair back and talk her through what she’s seeing—at a safe distance.
“We’d like there to be a change of clothes between each number, so the six of us will need three costumes each. I thought you’d know where we could buy them on the Internet. We’d appreciate your help.”
I lean back, but she tips the pad toward me and asks, “Which costumes exactly?”
Stretching my arm so I don’t edge even a millimeter closer, I extend my claws and point with one, the tip clicking against the glass screen. “Like this. All black except the lead dancer will be in red.”
She keeps scrolling, asking questions, and gathering information. We manage not to glance at each other, not even once, as I show her the dances on YouTube with the costumes we want for the three songs we plan to perform.
I grow more comfortable as what I think is her arousal scent fades, and she becomes consumed with the pad in front of her.
“If you guys can be even a fraction as good as what I’m watching, it’s going to be amazing.” Her eyes are sparkling with excitement. “Just one problem.”
Those last three words hit me like a punch to the solar plexus. This shouldn’t surprise me. I should have expected problems.
“By the time we get them off the Internet and I alter them to your special needs, they won’t look the way you want. I’ll have to make them.”
Chapter Ten
Olivia
He stiffens and his facial muscles droop.
“I couldn’t ask such a thing, Olivia. Six males, three costumes each. I may not know much about sewing, but I’m sure that’s a boatload of work. You have your shop to get up and running. I could never expect such a thing from you.”
He puckers his lips to the side, deep in thought. “We can reduce it to one musical number and we’ll just… make do with what we find on the Internet. Perhaps you could help with our search.”
“No.”
I pause, feeling guilty for refusing him, but I’m not going to finish my statement until he looks into my eyes. When those golden orbs finally gaze in my direction, I happily continue.
“I won’t help youmake do. I’ll help you make the costumes. And I promise you this…” I stop myself in mid-sentence. I was about to say these costumes will be amazing because they’ll be made by the woman who should have won theFashion Frenemiescompetition, but that’s behind me now. “I promise that you guys will be wearing better outfits than anything you could have found on the web.”
“I can’t accept that. You have your shop to run. You have so much to do here, although it looks so much better than the last time I was here.” He looks around, his observant gaze seeming to miss none of the renovations.
“You’re right. I have a lot to do here. That’s why you’re going to resume your position as my mentee.” I watch, waiting for him to roll his eyes or grimace, but instead of seeing his displeasure at having to help me in the shop, I’m struck by his open acceptance of my proposal.
“We’ll work here by day, but we’ll stop at quitting time. By night, you, me, and perhaps some of your buddies will bust out the sewing machines I’m going to order.” One thing that’s nice about living on this military reservation is that we have the financial power of a surprisingly generous United States government budget at our disposal.
“I’ll be here every step of the way and we’ll make you the costumes you deserve. Plus, sewing is a really useful life skill that not enough people learn nowadays. I bet Slater doesn’t stitch all those shiny medals and fancy patches onto his uniform. He probably pays someone to do it for him.”
