“When I found out that Elizabeth had lied to me, I came here and tried to help, to make up for entering your territory without your permission. All my leopards took a turn in your bed, helping you heal.”
“Bully for you.”
He held his empty hands out towards me, palms up. A nice traditional gesture to show that you are unarmed and harmless. Yeah, right. “What can I do to make this right between us, Anita? I don’t want war between our pards, and I have learned that you are interviewing alphas to take your place with your leopards. I’m a Nimir-Raj. Do you know how rare that is among the wereleopards? The best you’re probably going to find elsewhere is a leopard lionne, a protector but not a true king.”
“You applying for the job?”
He started walking towards me, and the room wasn’t that big. “I’d be honored if you’d consider me for the job.”
I tried to hold up my left hand, but the arm spasmed too badly to complete the gesture. But Micah got the idea; he stopped moving. “Let’s start by you staying over there. I’ve had about as much up close and personal with the two of you as I can handle.”
He just stood there, hands still in that open see-I-mean-no-harm position. “We caught you off guard, I understand.”
I doubted he understood, but it was polite for him to pretend. I’d never met a shapeshifter that had a problem sleeping in a big naked pile, like puppies. Of course, I’d never met a brand-new one, yet. Surely, there was a learning curve for this sort of comfort level.
My left arm was twitching badly enough that I took my right hand off the gun, out of my pocket, and tried to calm the involuntary movements.
“You’re hurt,” he said.
Every jump of muscle sent sharp little pains through my arm. “Getting clawed up will do that to you.”
“I can make it feel better.”
I rolled eyes at him. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
He didn’t even look embarrassed. “I told you, I am a Nimir-Raj. I can call flesh.”
I must have looked as blank as I felt, because he explained. “I can heal wounds with my touch.”
I just looked at him.
“What would it take to convince you that I’m telling the truth?” he asked.
“How about someone I know to vouch for you?”
“Easily done,” he said, and a second later the door opened.
It was another stranger. The man was around six feet, broad shouldered, muscled, well built, and since he was nude, I knew for a fact that every inch of him was well proportioned. At least he wasn’t erect. That was refreshing. He was pale, the first of the new ones without a tan. White hair with generous streaks of gray fell around his shoulders. He had a gray mustache and one of those tiny Vandyke beards. The hair was a clue that he was over fifty, probably. But what I could see of him didn’t look old, or weak. He looked more like a lifer mercenary that would cut your heart out and take it back to someone in a box, for the right amount of money. A ragged scar nearly bisected his chest and stomach, curving in a vicious half-moon around his belly button and sinking towards his groin. The scar was white and looked old. Either he’d gotten the injury before he became a shapeshifter or—or I didn’t know. Shapeshifters could scar, but it was rare; you almost had to do something wrong to the wound to get a scar that bad.
“I don’t know him,” I said.
“Anita Blake, this is Merle.”
It was only after the introductions that Merle’s eyes flicked to me. His eyes looked human, some pale gray color. His gaze went back to his Nimir-Raj’s face almost immediately, like an obedient dog that wants to watch its master’s face.
“Hi, Merle.”
He nodded his head.
“Let her people in the room.”
Merle shifted, and I knew instantly that he didn’t want to do it. “Some, but not all?” he made it a question.
Micah looked at me.
“Why not all?” I asked.
Merle turned those pale eyes to me, and the look in them made me want to squirm. He stared at me as if he could see through to the other side and read everything in between. I knew it wasn’t true, but it was a good stare. I managed not to flinch.
“Tell her,” Micah said.
“Too many people in too small a room. I can’t guarantee Micah’s safety in a crowd of strangers.”
“You must be his Skoll,” I said.
His lips curled back in disgust—I think. “We are not wolves. We do not use their words.”
“Fine, to my knowledge there’s no equivalent word among the leopards, but you’re still Micah’s chief bodyguard, right?”
He stared at me, then gave a small nod.
“Okay. Do you really see my people as a threat to Micah?”
“It is my job to see them as a threat.”
He had a point. “Fine. How many are you comfortable letting into the room?”
He blinked, that harsh gaze, shielded for a moment, his eyes uncertain. “You’re not going to argue about it?” Again he made the statement into a question with the lilt of his voice.
“Why should I?”
“Most alphas will argue so they don’t appear weak,” he said.
I had to smile. “I’m not that insecure.”
That made him smile. “Yes, those that hoard their power are often insecure.”
“That’s been my experience,” I said.
He nodded again, face thoughtful. “Two.”
“Fine.”
“Do you have a preference who the two shall be?”
I shrugged. “Cherry and whoever else.” I put Cherry in because she seemed to give the best after-action reports. Clearheaded was our Cherry, if not necessarily who you’d want at your back in a fight. But I needed information, not battle skills.
Merle gave me a slight bow, then his gaze flicked back to Micah, still standing by the bed. Micah waved him off. The big man opened the door and spoke quietly. Cherry was the first one through the door. She was tall and slender with well-formed breasts that led the eye to a very long waist, a swell of hips, and proof that she was indeed a natural blond. Wasn’t anybody wearing clothes today?
Frankly, it was just nice to see another woman. Normally, I don’t mind being the only girl, I do that a lot with the police, but nudity always makes me relieved to see another person without a penis.
She smiled when she saw me, relief so large in her eyes, her face, that it was almost embarrassing. She hugged me, and I let her, but I pulled away first. She touched my face as if she couldn’t really believe her eyes.
“How do you feel?”
I shrugged, and the small movement tightened the muscles in my left arm until I had to press it against my body to keep it from jumping around. I spoke through the pain, teeth gritted a little. “Arm’s giving me trouble, but other than that, I’m okay.”
Cherry touched the arm, running her hand lightly over the sleeve of the robe. “The muscles are tightening up from the rapid healing. It will be alright in a few days.”
“Am I not going to have the use of my left arm for a few days?”
“The spasms will come and go. Massage helps. Hot compresses may help. There must have been some severe muscle damage for this much spasming.” Did I mention that Cherry was a nurse when she wasn’t turning furry?
“I can give you the use of your arm today,” Micah said.
We both turned and looked at him. “How?” Cherry asked.
“I can call flesh,” he said again.
The look on her face said she knew what that meant, and she was impressed. And a second later, she looked doubtful, suspicious. That was my girl. Though truthfully, Cherry had had a hard enough life before I met her that she’d come with an overly active suspicion. I really couldn’t take credit for it.
I was trying to remember what “calling the flesh” meant, when Nathaniel stepped through the door. The last time I’d seen him he’d been pierced with blades, his flesh grown around the steel. Now he was perfect—n
ot even a scar.
I must have looked as pleased, and as astonished, as I felt, because he grinned at me. He did a little turn so I could see that back and front he was healed. I touched his upper chest where I’d pulled out one of the blades. The skin was smooth as if I’d only dreamed the knife. “I know you guys heal almost anything, but I never get over the surprise.”
“Eventually, you’ll get used to it,” Merle said. There was something in his voice that made me look at him. Cherry’s and Nathaniel’s smiles faded. They looked suddenly serious.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Cherry and Nathaniel exchanged glances, but it was Micah who spoke. “May I fix your arm?”
I turned to tell him to go to hell until I knew what was happening, but my left arm chose that moment to curl up from fingertips to shoulder, one massive, painful, charley horse that bent my knees. Only Cherry catching me kept me standing. My hand looked like that of a strychnine victim, the fingers convulsed, clawlike. It felt like my arm was trying to tear itself apart from the inside out. Cherry was supporting almost all my weight as I tried not to scream.
“Let him fix your arm, Anita, if he can,” she said.
The muscles in my arm relaxed by painful inches, until the urge to scream was only a small voice in my head. My voice came out breathy from the strain, but it was clear, no whimpering. “What is calling flesh again?” I was leaning so heavily on Cherry that it was only politeness that kept her from picking me up in her arms. She was holding all my weight.
Micah came to stand by us. Merle hovered behind him like an overly anxious nursemaid. “I can heal damage in my pard with my body,” Micah said.
I glanced up at Cherry and saw Nathaniel standing beside her. They both nodded at the same time, as if they’d heard my unasked question. “I’ve never seen a Nimir-Raj that could call flesh, but I’ve heard of it,” Cherry said. “It is possible.”
“You don’t sound like you believe him,” I said.
She gave a faint smile that left her eyes tired. “I don’t believe in much of anyone.” She smiled then. “Except you.”
I stood, still leaning on her arm, but almost standing on my own. I squeezed her arm with my right hand, trying to put into my eyes what I was feeling. “I’ll always do my best for you, Cherry.”
She smiled again, and her eyes lightened a little, though that edge of cynicism never quite left them. “I know that.”
“We all know that,” Nathaniel said.
I smiled at him. I said the prayer I’d been saying since I inherited the wereleopards: Dear God, don’t let me fail them.
I kept a tight grip on Cherry’s arm, but turned to Micah. “Why is my arm the only thing that’s hurting?”
“You don’t hurt anywhere else?” he asked.
I started to say no, then had to think about it. “I ache, but nothing like the arm. Nothing else hurts like it does.”
He nodded as if that meant something to him. “Your body and our energy healed the life-threatening injuries first, and the smaller ones like the marks on your back.”
“I didn’t think healing energy could be that selective,” I said.
“It can when directed,” he said.
“Who directed it?”
His eyes locked with mine. “I did.”
I glanced at Cherry, and she nodded. “He is a Nimir-Raj. He was the dominant for us all. Him and Merle.”
I glanced at the big man. “Do I owe you guys a thank-you?”
Merle shook his head. “You owe us nothing.”
“Nothing,” Micah said. “We were the ones who entered your territory without your permission. It was our transgression, not yours.”
I looked at them both. “Okay, now what?”
“Can you stand unaided?”
I wasn’t really sure, so I let go of Cherry in stages and found that I could stand on my own. Great. “Yeah, I guess I can.”
“I need to touch the injuries to heal them.”
“I know, I know, bare skin is best for healing among lycanthropes.”
He gave a small frown. “Yes, it is.”
I used my right hand to slide the robe off my left shoulder. I realized that it didn’t bare enough of my arm. I started to wiggle my left arm out of the sleeve, and another spasm hit me. It was Micah who caught me this time as my arm tried to tear itself off my body and my hand gripped something that I could neither see nor feel. It wasn’t just that it hurt. It was unnerving, like I had lost total control of my arm.
Micah whispered, “Scream, there’s no shame in it.”
I just shook my head, afraid to open my mouth, afraid I would scream. He lowered me to the floor. His hands going to the robe’s sash. The spasm relaxed in stages again, leaving me gasping on the floor while he bared most of my left side. Once he’d revealed my left arm and shoulder, he pulled the robe back over me, covering everything I cared about, except for my left breast. I appreciated the gesture. Since I was now lying on the ground staring up at him, I also appreciated that he was no longer erect. That was somehow less threatening.
He was on his knees, tracing his fingers just above the skin of my arm. Except he wasn’t touching my skin, he was touching that otherworldly energy that spilled off of my skin. His energy flowed from his hand and mingled with mine in a dance of electricity that sent goosebumps down my skin. For the first time I thought to ask, “Is this going to hurt?”
“No, it shouldn’t.”
I heard masculine laughter. I was looking up at all the men in the room except for one. I turned my head to see Caleb still sitting on the bed.
“Is there a joke I’m not getting?”
“Ignore him,” Merle said.
I looked up at their so-serious eyes, while Caleb’s laughter played background music. “Are you sure there isn’t something you want to tell me about the calling of flesh?”
Micah shook his head, sending the tangle of curls sliding around his face. I realized that no one had turned on a light. We were still moving in the twilight of the night-light. “Can someone turn on a light?”
There was a flurry of eye flicks, one to the other, to the other, like they were playing hot potato with the glance. “What’s wrong?”
“Why do you think anything is wrong?” Micah said.
“Don’t fuck with me, I saw the glances. Why can’t we turn on the lights?”
“You may be photosensitive because of the rapid healing,” Cherry said.
I looked at her and could feel the suspicion on my face. “That’s what all those looks were about?” I said.
“We’re worried about how your body is . . . reacting to the injuries.” She knelt beside me on the side opposite Micah. She stroked my hair like you’d pet a dog to soothe it. “We’re worried about you.”
“I got that.” It was hard to be suspicious with her vibrating sincerity at me. I finally had to smile. “I guess we can do without the lights until after he heals me.”
She smiled, and this time it did reach her eyes. “Good.”
“You might want to give us some room here,” Micah said. “Otherwise the energy can spread.”
Cherry gave me a last touch then stood and moved back, taking Nathaniel with her. Micah stared up at Merle. “You, too.”
Merle frowned, but he moved across the room with the others. They all ended up by the bed with Caleb. Strangely, I’d come as far across the room as I could get from the bed without leaving the room. Totally unconscious on my part, honest.
Micah stayed kneeling, but leaned back on the balls of his feet, hands open on his thighs, eyes closed, and I felt him open himself. His energy swirled over me like a thread of hot air that closed my throat, made it hard to breathe. He opened those alien eyes and looked at me, face slack, as if he were meditating or dreaming.
I expected him to lay hands on me, but his hands stayed on his thighs. He leaned his upper body towards my shoulder.
I put my right hand on his arm, and the moment I touched him, his beast curled thro
ugh me. It was almost as if some great invisible cat were sliding in and out of my body, the way they’ll entwine themselves around your legs, except this cat went places that not even a lover should be touching. It froze my words in my throat, and from the look on Micah’s face, I could tell he was feeling it too. He looked as shell-shocked as I felt. But he continued to lean into me. My hand stayed on his arm, but it didn’t stop him, and I couldn’t think well enough to question him. His lips brushed my neck where the scars began, and it brought my breath in a shaky sigh. He pressed his mouth to my neck and forced that swirling, living power into me. It made me squirm, but it didn’t hurt. In fact it felt so good that I pushed him backwards.
My voice squeezed out, faint, almost a whisper. “Wait a minute. What’s with the mouth? I thought you were going to lay hands on me?”
“I said I could heal with my body,” he said. The power stretched between us like taffy pulled between the hot sticky fingers of children. It was like if we touched we would melt into each other.
I dragged my hand away from him, and it was like my hand was moving through something—something real and almost solid. My voice was steady, and even I was impressed. “I thought that meant hands.”
“If I’d meant hands, I would have said so.” He lowered his face towards me, moving through the power, and it felt like waves in water when someone swims towards you. I grabbed a handful of those tangled curls. “Define body for me.”
He smiled, and it was at the same time gentle, condescending, and somehow sad. He stayed kneeling over me, his face close enough to kiss, my hand in his hair, the power pulsing around us, building into something large. “Mouth, tongue, some hands, but it is body, my hands alone won’t be enough. I am told that you can heal with your body, as well.”
I took my hand out of his hair and tried to get some distance between us, but he didn’t move back, so it didn’t really work. Truth was I could heal with sex, or something so close to it that you didn’t want to do it in public.
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