by Zoe Chant
Cheli laughed a little. "Hoo boy, it's an occasion, isn't it?" she asked. She was always perceptive: Nicolas wondered sometimes if it came of being a prey animal. She was well-attuned to the energy in the air around her, and she pulled down a baguette and sliced a medallion without needing to be prompted. "Just carnivore food, or some veggie options too?"
"Both." And the more the merrier. He imagined himself setting down the tray in front of his mate, watching her taste the offerings, watching pleasure cross her face. His jaguar answered with a rush of desire so powerful it almost knocked him off-balance.
He imagined himself in his jaguar form, leaving rabbits and peccaries and fish lying lovingly on her pillow, and he laughed at the image. No, he thought, adding an artful spray of red radish sprouts to one of the finger sandwiches. Better that I let the human side handle this.
Still, his jaguar was purring contentedly.
Between himself and Cheli, he had a neat little wooden tray arranged and garnished in no time. Cheli gave him a grin and a swat on the shoulder as he carried it out into the dining room.
His mate had chosen a table off to the corner, near the windows. She was looking out at the passing cars with a slight frown creasing the skin between her eyebrows. Nico's jaguar rumbled: he'd do anything to erase those worry-lines.
"A sampler," he announced, and laid the tray before her with a flourish.
She turned, taking in the spread with wide eyes. "Oh, wow," she breathed. "They're like little works of art."
He and his jaguar both puffed up a little with pride.
"Please," he said. "Go on, taste them."
She picked one up carefully, cradling it in her fingers like she didn't want a single leaf to shift out of place as she brought it to her mouth. Then she bit in, and he got to watch the expressions play across her face. Uncertainty, curiosity, attentiveness as the flavors and textures presented themselves to her. Then, finally, what he was waiting for: sheer pleasure.
"Oh," she said. "That was wonderful."
"I never asked your name," Nico said, as she picked up another little sandwich.
She gave a shy smile, and glanced away. "Mandy," she said. "Um, Amanda Baynett. But call me Mandy."
"Mandy," he said. The name fit into his mouth like music. "What are you looking for, in Los Cazadores? Ah, I mean... I'm sorry, it's a local saying. What brings you here?"
There were so many other questions he wanted to ask her. But he had been watching her eyes when they met his. He could see one thing: she didn't react to him the way that he reacted to her. She was shy and uncertain towards him.
She didn't feel the mate-bond.
That happened sometimes, he knew. A mate-bond didn't go in just one direction, but sometimes one person could feel it less strongly. Humans, who didn't have the power to shift, were notoriously poor at sensing it.
So, his mate was human. When he was younger and more hotheaded, he might have been disappointed by the thought. But sitting here across from Mandy, he only kept noticing the things about her that he loved already.
The little creases of surprise and joy in the fine skin around her eyes. The quiet noises she made as she encountered something she'd never tasted before. The unassuming dignity with which she moved her generous body.
Still, he was uncertain. Humans who didn't know about the mate-bond were often humans who didn't know about shifters, either. And how was he supposed to tell her about either one? Would she think he was insane? A liar? A pick-up artist of a particularly inventive stripe? Would she spook, thinking he was coming on too strong?
He couldn't bear the thought of it. But he also couldn't bear to let her think he was just a sandwich-maker who was good with tourists.
What brings you to Los Cazadores was a good enough question while he searched for a way to say what was in his heart.
Mandy looked bemused for a moment, and then answered the second, much safer, question. "My daughter brought me out here, actually."
Nico's heart stuttered. Did she have a husband already? But she was traveling alone...
"She sent me on vacation," Mandy said. "We could never afford vacations when she was growing up, but she's gotten this new job... it's so incredible! She's still in college, and she's already making more than I ever did. She's so brilliant."
She had so much pride in her voice. Nico was swept up into it: of course, his mate must raise brilliant children. It was the natural order of things. But the pit of fear was still in his stomach. "Did she send her father with you?" he asked.
A cloud passed over Mandy's face, and he re-thought his words quickly.
"I'm sorry; I'm being too familiar."
"No, it's not that," Mandy said. She wasn't meeting his eyes. "I just haven't spoken to her father since I was sixteen." She blushed, and Nico's heart thumped heavily. Not in fear this time, but in anger. Having his mate promised to someone else could have driven him to despair, but to hear that his mate had been abandoned? His jaguar didn't know whether it would challenge this unknown man over Mandy or rip him to shreds for not giving her her due. "Neither of us were ready to have children. But he could run away from it. Well, it's his loss. I love my daughter more than anything."
I love you more than anything, Nico thought. He added a vast, nurturing strength to the list of things about Mandy he was in love with already.
"Where are you staying?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I don't know yet. I was going to come out here and take a look. Maybe somewhere by the beach."
"Hmm," he said. "There are some good places by the beach, but most of them are overpriced tourist traps. But let me make you an offer." The plan fell together quickly. "There's a studio apartment just above this deli," he said. "I lived there for the first three years after I bought the building. I've been thinking of renting it out, but..."
But he hadn't felt like learning all the bureaucracy involved in becoming a landlord. And the rent from one studio apartment didn't seem like it would be worth the hassle and expense of hiring a property manager. So it sat up there, cool and empty, a reminder of long, lonely nights trying to put his deli together. A reminder of long, lonely nights in general.
She looked at him, and he held himself still and calm. Too fast, he thought. Too much.
His jaguar retorted, You should have her in your territory. It's only right.
Mandy swallowed, and asked, "Um, how much would it be?"
"What were you looking to spend?" he asked, though his jaguar rumbled at the idea of charging her anything. Steady, Nico told himself. We can't scare her away. "It's never made me any money. Anything you paid at all would be fair in comparison. I will match your budget, whatever it is."
She looked skeptical, and a shade cynical. Suspecting that he was bluffing, probably. "Twenty a night," she said, her voice suddenly challenging. Money was a sore spot with her, he thought. She was probably trying to get him to stand up and walk away in disgust once he realized that she wasn't a rich California tourist. Twenty a night would barely cover a camping reservation in the woods across Highway One. It couldn't really have been what she'd been planning on spending anywhere.
"Done," he said, immediately. "Twenty dollars a night. It's yours for as long as you care to stay."
Mandy looked shocked. She opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly Cheli appeared at the side of their table. She could move surprisingly swiftly and quietly when she wanted to. Or maybe Nico had been too caught up in Mandy to notice her approach.
"On the house," she said, and laid an elegant dessert plate with one of the Poires en Cage on the table before Mandy. She'd dusted it with powdered sugar, and put a graceful scoop of vanilla ice cream to the side. She gave Nico a wink as she disappeared back into the kitchen.
Mandy blushed, looking down at the pear in its pastry cage. She picked up her fork, and sliced off a little piece from the side.
Maybe not a perfect first move, Nico thought, but she'll stay here.
Here in our territory
, his inner jaguar agreed. Here with us.
Mandy
Mandy was beginning to wonder if Aimée had been on to something when she'd called this place magical. She'd just had the best meal of her life, and it was only sandwiches from a deli, nothing that should have been super fancy. And now she was being shown to a whole apartment, not a hotel room, that she had for twenty dollars a night. It strained her belief.
Nico led her outside and up a separate set of stairs, tucked around the side of the building away from the deli foot traffic. He was even carrying her old purple luggage for her. Mandy had barely said a word.
She couldn't figure this guy out. He was being nice... he was being too nice. Real people didn't act like this without an angle. But she didn't see what he had to gain from her. It wasn't money. And with this kind of charm, he could have seduced anyone he wanted.
She'd had a couple decades to work on her cynicism. There were a few good people in the world, like her parents and her daughter. Like some of the friends she'd met on the mailing lists and forums for single parents. But she didn't trust the kindness of strangers.
Usually. But this man, Nicolas, she did trust. She couldn't explain it, but she looked into his eyes, and she felt safe with him. Not like she was really uneasy but wanted to think she was safe because he was hot: truly safe, down to her bones.
"Here we are," he said, unlocking the door with a spare key and opening up the studio to her. He gestured her inside ahead of him. "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home."
The studio was humble, but in the best way. It was the kind of place that was simple because it didn't need to be ostentatious, not because there was no money to keep things stocked or in repair. The bed was a proper bed, queen-sized, with drawers built under it. The kitchen was separated from the main living space by a wooden counter, polished clean and warm. The bar stools at the counter looked worn and inviting.
On the side of the sleeping area, a gas fireplace was built into the wall. In front of it was a basket couch with a cream-colored cushion, large enough for two people to cuddle comfortably in, or one person to curl up with blankets and hot cocoa.
Mandy didn't know if Los Cazadores ever got cold enough for blankets and hot cocoa, but if it did, she'd want that kind of couch to curl up in.
Nico was going around the apartment, showing her where the linens were stored and where the four-person dish and silverware set was. Light glowed from a handful of homey lamps that had been controlled by the switch by the door. Mandy felt ashamed of herself.
"I can pay more than twenty," she said. Aimée, ever prepared, had worked up a budget for her mother when she'd sent the cash card. It had been a pre-emptive strike against Mandy's tendency to worry. "My daughter gave me enough to spend three hundred a night on a hotel."
Nico turned to her, and those unusual eyes of his were intense. He smiled. "I'm a man of my word," he said. "We agreed on twenty, so twenty is what you'll pay."
Mandy blushed, and looked away.
Nico crossed the space to her in an instant, his footsteps surprisingly quiet on the hardwood floor. He reached out to her, stopping just short of taking her hand.
"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," he murmured.
You're not, Mandy thought. The thought surprised her. But it was true: she was making herself uncomfortable. With her own behavior, her own cynicism, her own fears. The last time she'd let herself go head-over-heels for someone, she'd ended up with her whole life going sideways.
But the boy she'd slept with then had been a high schooler, immature and scared of responsibility. And she'd been a high schooler too, looking forward to college but still not the most critical of thinkers. She'd grown, since then. And Nicolas was definitely more mature than that boy.
She had spent plenty of time imagining coming onto a hot guy, but they had always been fantasies. But just thinking about her fantasies made her quirk her hips to one side, show a flash of neck, believe for a moment that she was the kind of woman men would go head-over-heels for.
And Nicolas, who'd been a perfect gentleman, suddenly looked at her with a much more carnal interest.
Is this really happening? Mandy thought. Should I do this? Can I do this? It's irresponsible…
She wanted this. And this was her vacation, her time for herself.
Just say no if he doesn't have a condom, she thought. She wanted to say yes and forget the risks. She wanted him to want her. She wanted him to have her.
"Can you stay? For a bit?" she asked.
Nicolas's breath hitched. He stepped forward half a step, so close she could feel the heat of his body.
"I can stay," he said. His voice was quiet but rumbling with intensity. "Please. Ask me for anything."
Was this really happening? Could this really happen?
Her body thought so. It was aching for him to touch her. It had been an embarrassingly long time since she had felt anything other than her own fingers giving her pleasure. The thought of Nico's hands... of his body... of, yes, she could see that bulge at the front of his trousers...
She flung her arms around him without thinking another thought.
She stretched up to meet him at the same time he brought his lips down to hers, and the kiss was like the ocean crashing on the shore. She felt the strength in his arms as he embraced her, almost lifting her off the ground. She squeaked and leaned into him, letting her feet leave the floor.
Nicolas didn't need any more urging. He carried her back to the bed and laid her down there, kissing her passionately. His hands crept below the hem of her shirt, and she went rigid.
Nicolas paused as well. "Mandy?" he asked.
She took a deep breath. She did want this, but...
"Could we turn off the lights?" she asked. There were curtains on the windows; it wouldn't be very dark, but maybe it would be dark enough.
Nicolas was startled. "But I want to see you," he protested.
"I..." She looked down. Nicolas's body was lithe and strong, and she imagined that he was perfect under his clothes. She wasn't. She didn't want him seeing all her flaws.
"You're beautiful," Nicolas said, his warm palm cupping her cheek. Tears surged up inside Mandy, and she strangled them down. She had long practice strangling them back down.
"You won't say that if you see me," she said, quiet and certain.
Nicolas's hand tensed against her cheek, just for a moment. "I can't imagine thinking otherwise."
Mandy squeezed her eyes shut. You asked for it, she thought. She reached down and pulled up the bottom edge of her shirt, revealing the skin where an ugly scar cut over her stomach.
Her pregnancy with Aimée had had complications. They'd delivered her via C-section, and Mandy had been depressed in the first few weeks after the delivery and hadn't taken very good care of herself. The cut had become infected, and when she'd finally kicked the infection, the scar that had been left behind was uneven and puckered. The skin was permanently discolored around it.
Nicolas pulled back just enough to look at her belly, and lowered his hand to the exposed skin there. His fingers traced over the scar, exploring every little jag and bump. "What happened?" he asked.
"C-section," she said. She reached for the lamp, but his other hand caught her wrist.
"Wait," he murmured. "Let me tell you what I see."
Mandy bit her lip.
He bent down. His lips ghosted over the numb skin of the scar and the sensitive skin of her stomach, passing between them in a way that made her shudder deliciously, despite her shame. "I see that you brought a life into this world," Nicolas said. "I see that you fought for it. I see that you were strong enough to take a wound to defend your child, and survive. I see a fighter in you, Mandy: a strong, beautiful fighter who doesn't know how beautiful she is."
The tears surged back against Mandy's eyes, and it was harder to fight them down this time. You don't mean that, she thought, but Nicolas's voice was soft and certain.
She turned her wrist
in his hand, until her fingers intertwined with his. Then their hands separated, his going to her shirt and pulling it off, hers going to the waistband of his trousers.
They stripped each other as though they couldn't breathe with clothing on. Mandy was right: Nicolas's body was perfect under his clothes, muscles well-defined but not overdeveloped, skin smooth and tan and broken only occasionally by some faint nick or scar. She wondered where he'd gotten them, but the curiosity wasn't near the front of her mind.
He was fully erect, his cock rising from dark, close-clipped curls at his loins. She shivered with need, and almost reached for him before she remembered herself. "Condom," she breathed.