"If you'd like a few minutes to clean up before dinner, feel free," Max said. "The food will keep warm."
Kitty said nothing, but maybe he was still reading her mind and hearing her wonder to herself if he thought she'd packed an evening gown in her little bag. Did "clean up" mean wash her hands or come back looking ready to entertain the Queen of England?
He smiled and stepped closer until she felt the warmth radiating off of him like a campfire. Her breath caught in her throat, and she held as still as a doe in the path of a hunter while he raised one large, lean hand and flicked a gentle finger across the tip of her nose.
"You've got a little smudge," he said, his eyes glittering. "Right there."
No deer in the history of the natural world had ever turned tail and run as fast as Kitty Jane Sugarman. And even as she locked the master bathroom door behind her, she couldn't shake the sensation of being watched by the hungry copper eyes of a predator.
* * *
Chapter Seven
MAX STOOD NEAR THE ENTRANCE TO THE DINING AREA and took a long drink from the dark amber beer bottle in one hand. After the last couple of hours, he could have used something stronger, but he'd decided against it. It might have helped him get through all the explanations he was about to have to give to the wide-eyed strawberry blonde from Georgia, but it wouldn't do anything to help him keep his hands off of her and to himself where they belonged.
Christ, he hadn't been this tempted by a woman in… ever. He certainly couldn't explain it. Kitty Sugarman was about as far from his type as it was possible to get and still be a living, breathing woman. She was soft where he'd always coveted the athletic, petite where he'd liked tall, and as innocent as a newborn baby where he'd always appreciated talent enhanced with dedicated practice. Instead of warm, tanned skin she also had a generous dusting of freckles that he itched to count with his tongue, and wide, green eyes that showed every thought that ran through her head as clearly as if she'd been projecting them onto a movie screen.
And somehow he needed to figure out a way to allow her and her father to get to know each other while keeping her other assorted relatives from eating her alive, with cocktail sauce.
It might just take a miracle.
A sensation of movement brushed his skin, and he turned to find her emerging shyly from the hallway, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans, her hair brushed out of its braid and pulled back into a ponytail. Her freshly scrubbed face glowed as shiny clean as a kindergartner's.
Max ignored the clenching of his gut and set aside his beer. "Feel any better?" His smile was the only easy thing about him.
She nodded and padded across the floor. She must have kicked off her shoes in the other room, because her bare feet made no sound, their neat, tiny toenails naked of the simplest coat of polish. If he'd been able to ignore the way that damned printing stretched across her bra-less chest, he might have been able to convince himself she looked all of seven years old.
"Much," she said, her lips curving. "I can almost feel that second wind already. Of course, it helps that I can smell those burgers, and they're making my mouth water."
"Well, come and find out if they taste as good."
Her murmured thanks when he held her chair did nothing to calm him down, and by the time he took his seat at her right he was thankful to have the table between them. He'd like to say he kept quiet because he wanted to give her the chance to eat in peace after everything that had happened, but he'd never been that good of a liar. Especially not when he was lying to himself.
By the time they finished, he'd steeled himself to say what needed to be said, but there was no chance in hell he was going to like doing it.
PLACING HER FOLDED NAPKIN BACK ON THE TABLE BESIDE her plate, Kitty leaned back in her chair and lifted her beer. "Okay, I'm ready. You've been more than patient, but you can go ahead now. Lay it on me."
She probably wore the same expression that some people might while saying those same words to a maniacal dentist, but she couldn't help that. Although she had needed to eat and the burger had been delicious, she could feel it sitting in the pit of her stomach in a way that wasn't entirely comfortable. Of course, these days her stomach rarely felt comfortable.
"You know, it's a good thing Martin told me how old you are," Max said with a smile as he pushed his own plate aside. "Because otherwise I'd be looking over my shoulder right now waiting to get busted for serving alcohol to a minor."
Kitty rolled her eyes. People always mistook her age, but she probably hadn't done herself any favors when she'd scrubbed off the remnants of her makeup and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. That always made her look about sixteen.
"Believe me, I get carded every time I even glance too hard at a liquor store." She looked down and picked at the label on her beer with a fingernail. She could feel her nerves roiling, and before she knew it, her mouth was moving again, completely without her say-so. "Do I look like him?"
She knew the question was sudden, but Max didn't comment on that. For several heartbeats, he didn't even speak.
"Not really," he said after a moment. "Not like people say, 'Oh, she looks just like her dad.' I'm guessing you have more of your mom's looks. She must be beautiful."
"Beautiful has always been what Misty does best," Kitty said drily. "It's one of her few talents."
"You do have his eyes, though," Max offered. "I think I mentioned that before. Same color, similar shape. And I have to say that I've seen the stubborn look you get sometimes more often than I'd care to admit."
"What stubborn look?"
"The one that obviously runs in your family. The one you're starting to get right now."
Kitty blushed and smiled reluctantly. "It's pretty weird, you know? Having people talk about my 'family.' Up until recently, I thought I knew all about them. But I suppose you learn something new every day." She took another bracing sip of her beer. "So how many of them are there?"
"I suppose that depends on how you want to count."
"What do you mean?"
He braced his forearms on the table, beer bottle cradled between his hands. His copper gaze held steady on her face, level and unreadable. "How much do you know about Leos?"
It was hard for her not to snort her answer. "How much do you know about Central American fruit bats? If it's as much as me, it's a heck of a lot more than I know about you people." The words flew out before she'd thought them through, and she winced at her own insensitivity. "I'm sorry. That was—"
"The truth, I imagine," he cut in. "Remember, I saw firsthand how new this all is to you. I imagine it's been a lot to take in, thinking of yourself one way for so many years and then having everything you thought stop being the whole truth."
She searched his expression for any hint of recrimination, but all she saw was compassion. At least, that's all she could define. She had the feeling something else lurked beneath the surface, but it didn't look like displeasure. That would have to do for now.
"It was a lot to take in when the Others staged their Unveiling, but we've all had some time to get used to that. It's been more than a year now," she said. "Finding out I was an Other myself… I don't think there are words for that amount of 'a lot.'"
He nodded and sat back in his chair, his mouth curving once more. "All right then. Ready for your first crash course?"
Kitty laughed and shook her head. "Not even remotely. But you go on anyway. I'll try to keep up."
"Good girl." He stood and moved to pull out her chair. "Let's go sit in the living room where we can be more comfortable. This could take a while."
When she was curled up at one end of the sofa with her bare feet tucked under her, Max settled himself at the other end with one knee drawn up on the cushions and his big body turned to face her. He'd removed his coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves before they ate, and now he looked perfectly at home. Definitely more so than she did.
"Clearly you already know the most important thing," he began, his voice pat
ient and even. "You know that you and your father, and the rest of his family and even I, are Others. Werelions, to be specific, although we don't use that term much, if at all. We prefer to call ourselves Leos."
"Although I'm guessing you weren't all born in late July or early August."
"Were you?"
"Middle of May."
"End of October. We can compare horoscopes later." He grinned. "We have a lot in common with animal lions, but not everything. We're people, not wildlife."
Kitty nodded and kept her mouth shut.
"First off, family. There are two parts to that. The larger group you need to know about is the pride, specifically, the Red Rock Pride. Your father is its leader—we call him the Felix—and the rest of your biological paternal family are members. If you spend any length of time here, you'll be a member, too, because you're part of the family. But I'm a member of the pride, as well, and so are lots of other people who aren't your blood relations. So a pride is a family, but it's more than just a group of relatives." He paused. "Is this making any sense?"
She flipped it over in her mind and nodded slowly. "I think so. I mean, you're saying that the pride is like a big extended family, but my actual family members are only a part of it. There are other families and other people who I'm not related to, but who would still be like… like kin."
Max nodded. "That's a good way of putting it. Think of them like a big group of 'aunts, uncles, and cousins' who come to all the family reunions, but who you've never been able to verify are actually related to you."
"No problem. I've got lots of those back home."
"Good. Like I said, your father is the Felix of our pride. That means he's in charge and everyone in the pride answers to him. Not that he runs anyone's life, but if there are disputes among pride members, he'll judge who's right or wrong and his judgment is final. The other pride members defer to him. He also takes charge of any interactions with other prides, with human governments, or with Other governing bodies in different states. Obviously he can't do everything himself, but what he doesn't handle he appoints other people to handle in his name."
"Sounds like some kind of feudal system. Without, you know, the part about owning peasants."
Max chuckled, a warm, rough sound that made her shiver. "It's not a completely inaccurate comparison, but we don't go on Crusades, either."
"Oh, good, because I left my sword back in Tennessee."
"You probably noticed that we don't do the Hollywood werewolf thing and only change by the light of the full moon, but then again, neither do werewolves, really. We change when we want, or in moments of extreme physical or emotional stress."
"Yeah, I definitely noticed that part."
He flashed her a smile. "You'll get better at controlling it. I promise. It just takes practice."
"Oh, goodie."
"It's not something you can dismiss, Kitty," he said, growing serious. "If you don't learn how to control it, it will start to control you. That's not something we can let happen."
"We?"
"Your family. The pride. The Other community. It's stressful enough at the moment to keep the peace with the humans. We can't afford to have rogue shifters going around with no control over their own power. It doesn't bear thinking about."
Kitty wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. "I know that. I do," she insisted, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to get all excited about it."
"No one says you have to. But you might find there are benefits."
And now it was definitely time to change the subject. "You told me about the pride, but you said before you'd tell me about my family."
"I did, didn't I?" He seemed to set his jaw and almost brace himself before he began to speak.
Kitty didn't miss the signs. "Why do I think I'm not going to like this story? Is he that bad?"
"Who?"
"My father."
"That's not—"
"I mean, I'm trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I have to say that knowing he knew about me for all those years and never tried to contact me?" She shrugged. "I don't know. I just think that if anyone tried to stand between me and my child, I wouldn't care about anything except getting her back."
"Your father is the least of your worries. He may be your only ally." Max's gaze caught and held hers, copper eyes intent. "I won't lie to you, and I won't pretend this isn't a big adjustment for you, but think about it from the other side for a minute. Your father has another family, one made up of people who not only share his blood but who look up to him as their leader because of his place in the pride. They have a vision of how that pride works and who fits where in the pecking order, and now you show up and throw a wrench into things. They don't know what to make of you. And your father has a son and a daughter who grew up knowing him but not knowing you. That means they've spent a lot of years believing certain things about their futures that never took you into account. Now they've got some big adjustments of their own to make."
Kitty could read between lines like those as well as anyone. She could feel herself reddening with anger. "If they think I came here to take something from them, I've got no problem clearing things up—"
Something flickered in his expression so fast, she nearly missed it. Her mouth shut fast enough for her teeth to clack together. She drew a slow, painful breath.
"That's exactly what they think," she said, searching his face. "And what's more, you think it, too."
His gaze held steady on hers. "Like I said, I won't lie to you. I admit that when Martin first told me about you, the thought crossed my mind, but it didn't stay long. Not once I'd met you for myself."
"What happened? My honesty shone like a beacon before me?"
His mouth quirked at her sarcastic tone. "Your confusion, actually."
"So I looked like I was too young and stupid to plan a swindle."
"No, you were too obviously surprised that Martin is rich."
Kitty crossed her arms over her chest and drew up her shoulders. "Right. So all I have to do is tell his kids I'm not after their inheritance and they'll welcome me with open arms, I suppose."
"I… wouldn't count on that."
"If they want me to sign something, I will," she offered, a mix of justified anger and inexplicable hurt fueling the defiance in her tone. "There's not a thing on this earth I want from them." Shoving away from the sofa, she paced restlessly toward the window. Looking out at the view was better than looking at Max. And anything was better than looking at the chaos inside herself. "I don't even know as I want anything from him."
"Then why are you here?"
Kitty stared out at the neon-sprinkled darkness and laughed. "Because I was too damned scared to stay at home." Her mouth twisted. "That's not much of an excuse, though, because I was just as afraid to come here. My grandfather had to all but hogtie and carry me to get me on the plane. Every night after the first time I… shifted… I went to bed praying I wouldn't do anything in my sleep. That I wouldn't wake up and find out I'd hurt someone. And every morning, I woke up wishing it had all been a bad dream, that everything was back to normal."
She never heard Max move, but when he spoke again, his voice came from right behind her, so close she flinched. Her eyes refocused on the window's reflection of the room and met his gaze in the glass.
"That sounds pretty natural to me."
"Really? Well, what would you say if I told you that I still wish that and that I'm not here to try to get closer to Martin Lowe? Because, frankly, he has very little to do with it. I'm here to make sure I learn how not to endanger my real family, not so I can bond with the one that doesn't give a damn about me."
"Your father gives a damn."
"He's not my father. He's a sperm donor, and his work in this situation is obviously done."
She turned to walk away, but she never took a step. Max caught her arm gently but firmly and held on. "No matter what your reasons for coming, you owe him this meeting."
"For what? Fo
r ignoring me for twenty-four years? I don't think he had to strain himself for that."
"It's not my place to explain that, and I'm not even going to try," Max replied evenly, "but maybe he can."
"He doesn't need to bother." She tried to tug Max's her arm free. "He didn't want me before, and his family doesn't want me now. And that's fine. I didn't come for them. All I want is a few lessons in Leo control, then I'm out of here."
He held firm. "Did you ever stop to wonder if you might find something here to make you want to stay?"
"I can't think of a single good reason to do that."
His hand slid down her arm to clasp hers, raising gooseflesh in its wake. Catching her other hand, he held them both, keeping her still and forcing her to face him.
"I can," he said softly. "Because even if you don't owe your father anything, you can't deny that he's a part of you, and you can't escape from the Leo half of yourself. Forget about Martin if you want. You're right that you owe it to yourself to learn what it means to be Leo, but you should also take a look at what this trip might make possible."
Max's warmth distracted her, made her shiver. She didn't want to be distracted by him, didn't think she could afford to be. He was one of them. He'd be on their side.
She struggled to find her voice and her determination, to express her need to eventually go back home where she belonged.
But did she really belong there anymore, either?
"What good could possibly come from me sticking around where I'm not wanted? Where I don't want to be?"
"This."
And his lips settled gently over hers.
He caught her completely by surprise, not just with the kiss but with the heat. He had to be generating all that fire, didn't he? She sure as heck had never felt anything like it before, and for a crazy, dizzy moment she wondered if she could survive the burn.
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