by Zoe Chant
He made a little noise like an impatient growl, and his hand went down to one of the small drawers by the head of the bed. He fumbled around in it for a moment before coming up with a small, shiny package, which he tore open with his teeth.
Mandy could feel his impatience, because it was mirrored in her own. Her body had come alive to the possibility of being with him, and every second he spent getting the condom on was a second where he wasn't touching her. She reached up and pulled the condom from its wrapper before his fingers closed around it, then reached down and took his hard, silky length in hand.
"Mandy," he breathed, and rocked his hips forward. Then he stilled himself, bracing himself on one hand while she got the condom on over his head. His other hand went to cup her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple and making her squeak. She squirmed against his hand and he responded by stroking her, toying with her nipple, teasing her awakened skin.
Every caress seemed to leave a trail of fire. Her mind followed his fingers wherever they went, swirling around her nipples, grazing her sides, dipping between her legs to take her rising wetness on their tips.
She gasped, thrusting down against his fingers, which withdrew teasingly as soon as she moved. They were feather-light between her labia, ghosting over her clit. If they hadn't been driving her wild she'd wonder if she felt them at all.
"I need you inside me," she said. "Please, I need you now!"
Too late, she thought that she might not be ready for him, that she might need to take it slow because it had been so long. But then Nicolas was at her entrance, his wide hot head pressing against her, and then into her. She spread and took him with delicious slowness, the stretch of her walls burning with a sensation just short of pain, and she realized that she didn't need to worry. She was ready, and he would take care of her.
"Mandy," he whispered against her neck, his tongue exploring her skin. She moaned with pleasure, so many sensations warring for her attention. His stomach slick with sweat against hers, her breasts pressed against his chest, her hands gliding along the muscles of his back and ass, and the delectable heat and fullness spearing her through her very core. She ground against him, feeling the pressure inside her change as they moved against each other. Pleasure moved in waves through her, threatening to tip her out of her head.
She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper and harder into her. He grunted and brought his teeth to bear on her skin, light bites that stopped short of marking her, as though he wanted to devour her. She turned her head and caught his lips with hers as he thrust into her, both their bodies pounding with their quickening heartbeats.
His hand gripped her hip as she tightened around him, and as his fingers dug into her soft hips she cried out and came. Ecstasy washed over her in a wave, and she tightened down on him like an eager fist.
The movement of his hips became less rhythmic, more needy. He moved within her for a few more thrusts and found his own release, and Mandy could swear that she felt it, as keenly as her own.
His body went suddenly languid above her. He didn't collapse down onto her; more melted down into the space next to her, gathering her in his arms to hold her close to his body. He smelled like sweat and sex and her, and like his own scent, musky and spicy and faintly dry and sweet, though maybe that was the smell of his deli lingering on him. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and inhaled.
"My beautiful Mandy," he murmured, running his palm over her shoulder, her back. She nuzzled into him, sighing in contentment.
It's too good to be real, she thought. There has to be some angle. I don't get miracles like this.
But while she was here, cuddled up against a gorgeous man in a city that was supposed to be magical, she could ignore the little voice of doubt. At least for a while.
Nicolas
I have to tell her, Nicolas thought. Mandy was cuddled up against him, drifting. His jaguar was purring inside of him. He'd fed her, he'd made love to her, and she still didn't know what she was to him. That alone was almost unbearable.
But how do I explain it to her? he wondered.
Mandy didn't look like she was ready for him to jump from the bed and turn into an animal. And without knowing about shifters, how could she understand the mating bond?
Nicolas traced the curve of her generous shoulder, reveling in the way she felt under his hand. So warm, soft, strong. She looked like she was slipping into sleep, but her luggage in the corner of the room suggested that she had just come from a day of travel. A long plane flight, a plate of good food, and amazing sex could drop someone straight into a pleasant doze.
At least, he hoped it had been amazing for her. It had been for him.
He kneaded his fingers lightly into the muscles of her shoulders, and she made a contented noise and snuggled closer. On impulse, he said, "Do you know how Los Cazadores was founded?"
She moved a little, and blinked at him. She wore a faint confusion on her face, and he smiled.
"No," she said. "I don't think it was in any of the brochures."
"Hmm. They usually don't put it in the brochures, no," he said. "There was a family of slaves who ran away from the plantations where they were held. They crossed the South and the Southwestern desert, they crossed the mountains, and when they came here, they lay down and said that it was the end of the continent, and this was where they would stand. If anyone hunted them to the coast, they would turn and hunt the hunters. Do you know how they survived that long journey through the wilderness?"
Mandy shook her head. "How?"
"The family had a gift. They could turn into lions."
Mandy laughed, and rested her forehead against his chest. "That's a charming folk tale."
Nicolas' heart sank. "People in Los Cazadores believe it," he said. "There's magic in the world, Mandy."
Mandy made a little noise. It seemed to be her way of saying, I won't contradict your religion, even if I know it isn't true.
We'll have to show her, his jaguar said. Do it now. She'll have to believe that.
I don't want to frighten her, Nicolas thought. Maybe the tomorrow, when she wasn't half-asleep and drifting. He could take her aside, and ask to show her something, and ask her to believe in him, and tell her not to be afraid...
He held her while she drifted into sleep. The air in the studio cooled as the sun went down outside, and he reached down and pulled up one of the plush blankets folded neatly in the under-bed drawers. He tucked it around them both, then slept.
He usually slept lightly. This night, though, he sank like a stone into a warm, velvet darkness, everything made right by the presence of his mate. He woke, as he usually did, before the sun, and Mandy was still sleeping pressed against him.
He didn't want to leave the bed. But down below, the deli was waiting for him to open it.
It will be all right, he thought, trying to convince himself. I won't be far away.
His jaguar valued its ability to roam, and valued independence in a mate. So long as, no matter how far they roamed, they would roam back together again. She's in our territory, it said. So long as she was sleeping here, his jaguar knew it could find her.
Nico's human side, though, wanted to stay with her. But his human side was also afraid of crowding her, afraid of frightening her off by being too close, too familiar. And he did have responsibilities, as much as he would have liked to brush them all aside.
He pulled himself out of the bed without waking Mandy, and tucked a light quilt over the blanket so she wouldn't get cold. Then he folded her clothing and laid it out on the bedside table, and wrote a little note: Good morning! Sorry I had to leave to open the deli. Come down for breakfast, I'll find something that you'll love. I had a wonderful night.
He thought for a moment, and then drew a little heart with the impressions of toe pads and claws around it.
If he knew when she would wake up, he could bring her breakfast in bed. Instead, he decided to come back up with a few little nibbles to entice her. And
maybe he could get someone else to take over opening the deli for a few days, while he found the right words to convince Mandy to stay.
In the mean time, though, he had work to do.
Mandy
Mandy woke up warm and comfortable, but alone. For some reason, she was surprised, even though she'd had no reason to expect Nicolas to stay.
She got out of bed, gathering the plush blanket around her. She'd been dreaming of jungles and big spotted cats. Hadn't Nicolas told her a story about leopards or jaguars or something? No, he'd said lions. Still, there was no explaining dreams.
A thermos and a bowl of grapes and berries, garnished with a couple little shortbread cookies, sat on the bedside table next to a neatly-folded stack of her clothing. She ran her hand over the clothes, still only half-convinced that her wild night had actually happened.
There was a note on the table by the food. She picked it up and read it, then set it back down.
I don't understand this man, she thought.
She left the clothes folded on the table, and went to her luggage to pick out another outfit for the day. Her clothes were all comfortable rather than fashionable, but she'd packed a few outfits she felt good in.
There were towels in the drawers with the bedlinens, and she stepped into the studio's little bathroom and showered. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and put on her usual minimal makeup, then got dressed for the day.
Then she sat down on the edge of the bed and tucked into the berries, thinking about what she wanted to do.
Los Cazadores was supposed to have something for everyone. Museums and art galleries and theaters; nature trails and hiking trails and bike trails and even ski trails, in the hills a few miles inland. Surfing and fishing and a marine preserve a few miles to the north. A few small but enthusiastic sports teams, and even the occasional rodeo. Good shopping, and good restaurants. Mandy didn't know where to start. Her brand of recreation had always been curling up with a good book or a good TV show. If anyone had asked, she'd have told them that she was a very boring person.
"I wonder what Aimée would do?" she asked aloud.
She checked her phone. Aimée had texted her, and she texted back: Everything is lovely. Thank you so much. The city is beautiful and the food is amazing here.
She didn't mention anything about Nicolas. She had no idea how to.
Her phone also had four missed calls, three of them from a number she recognized and didn't want to answer, one from a number she didn't recognize but didn't trust anyway. Four new messages, too. She sighed, and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.
I can deal with that later. This is supposed to be a vacation.
She'd had to borrow money to get Aimée into college. SAT fees, campus visits, application fees, money to get Aimée good clothes for interviews, a tutor who Aimée had turned out not to need... and those had ballooned, when she hadn't been able to hold herself back. If she took Aimée to see a campus, she wanted Aimée to see the sights, visit the theaters and museums, spend a few extra days. She'd borrowed money to supplement her interrupted income. And it had just all gone a bit farther than she'd expected it to.
She'd been told there were supposed to be ways to have visits and fees and those sorts of things funded, if you were a low-income family, but she hadn't had the energy to go looking for how, and she hadn't really believed that it would be enough to give Aimée the experience Mandy wanted her to have. Easier just to borrow the money.
Or so she had thought, until she looked through her address books and came up short. Her parents were hardly better off than she was, her friends among Aimée's friends' parents and her old single-parent forum buddies weren't close enough to be comfortable lending her money...
She finally resorted to the one person she'd vowed never to speak to again: Aimée's father.
She'd found him on Facebook, and his profile suggested that he hadn't matured a bit. She'd asked for help as politely as she could, and was met with nothing but insults. Finally she'd demanded, pointing out that she'd never asked for a single thing from him while she was raising Aimée on her own, and he'd told her off. Told her that if she was really desperate for cash, she could ask some of his friends: people from high school who Mandy had never liked, but who he apparently stayed in touch with.
And they'd loaned her the money. Even though it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Even though she didn't know them at all, and even though she didn't feel right about it. Getting Aimée into college, getting her into a good college, one that she was excited to be at, was worth it.
Mandy hadn't told Aimée anything about it. Her daughter might feel guilty, and Mandy didn't want that.
Besides, if she saved a bit of the money Aimée had given her for her vacation, she could make a payment when she got home. And with her sudden good fortune with this apartment, saving a bit of money would be easy. And then when she got home and there was only herself to take care of, there should be a bit of extra money in the budget. She could pay down the debt. These people could stop harassing her.
But while she was here in Los Cazadores, she wanted to forget all about them, and all about the bad decisions she might have made.
She wondered if Nicolas might have been a bad decision. She didn't feel like he was. But she didn't want to trust too easily.
Mandy finished off the berries, and popped one of the little shortbread cookies into her mouth. It was delightful: softly flavored with something she could almost but not quite put a name to, and so buttery that it almost melted on her tongue. Not too sweet; just sweet enough to tantalize.
Like Nicolas?
Her cheeks were burning. She stood up and paced across the room, trying to think of anything else.
I should just get out. See where my feet take me.
Maybe a long walk would help her take her mind off Nicolas, and all her confusion. And off the rest of it.
That's what I'll do. She picked up her purse from the securing loop on her luggage. She'd go and see what Los Cazadores had to offer, and not plan to be back here until bedtime.
Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she stepped out the door and into the coastal California sun.
Mandy
Los Cazadores was beautiful. She'd give it that.
The quality of light was different here than back home. Wetter, almost more saturated, though the sky seemed to sit closer to the ground somehow. The air smelled of something she guessed was the ocean.
The area where Nicolas had his deli was mostly little shops and houses, close enough to hear the interstate but not close enough to get the traffic. She wandered into a few: a store entirely devoted to tea, another for Christian tchotchkes, a third for used books. She thumbed through them, though they were all older and mostly more academic than she was interested in.
After a few minutes of trying to convince herself that she was interested in Proust, she sighed and put the book back on its shelf.
If she was honest with herself, she wanted to go back to the deli. She wanted to go to Nico and see what he had to offer her. What he would say to her. How he would touch her...
But she didn't understand the strength of that urge. She wanted to find some space to breathe, to figure herself out.
The proprietor of the shop, or the woman Mandy guessed was the proprietor, was sitting behind the front desk, flipping through a thick book with firehouse-red binding. She looked up when Mandy approached.
"Hi," Mandy said, with an uncertain smile.
The woman put down the book, and smiled back warmly. She was a little younger than Mandy, with unruly hair tied back into a bun that valiantly tried and failed to contain all the errant locks. "Hello," she said. "First time in?"
"First time in the city," Mandy said. I was wondering if you could tell me what there is to do around here."
The woman quirked her head at Mandy. "Good question," she said, and extended a hand. "I'm Linden."
"Mandy." She shook Linden's hand.
; "So, Mandy," Linden said. "What are you looking for, here in Los Cazadores?"
Mandy blinked. "That's the first thing people ask me, here," she said. Not what do you like or what are you interested in or where are you from.
Linden laughed. "It's a... tradition, I suppose? You know how Disneyland is the 'Happiest Place on Earth?' Well, Los Cazadores has a reputation. It's 'where the diligent hunter always finds what he's looking for.' Or what she's looking for. Los Cazadores means The Hunters, you know."
"Oh," Mandy said. "I don't speak Spanish."
"That's okay. But anyway, that's what we pride ourselves on. If you're looking for something, civic pride means we want to help you find it. Even the big metaphysical stuff, like purpose or clarity or inner peace. I cannot even list the number of yoga and meditation studios we have here."