by Zoe Chant
“I think I might have competition,” Luke said with amusement as he opened the brown paper bag and started to unload the food. “It’s probably not what you’re used to, but I promise that it’s good.”
Octavia took the foil wrapped package that he handed her, resting it on her knee as the warmth hit her fingers. “What am I eating?” she asked.
“Steak pieces wrapped in tortilla, with Sam’s own special barbeque sauce on,” he explained, as he unwrapped his own tortilla. “Delicious, I promise.”
She hummed under her breath as she unwrapped one end and took a bite. At the sight of her delicate pink tongue, Luke felt arousal stirring again, and firmly thought of ice cold showers. As the flavors did their work, Octavia moaned in pleasure.
“Just as good at you said,” she said, tearing off a piece of the bread and offering it to the politely waiting duck.
Luke felt tension lift from his shoulders. He hadn’t been sure how well Octavia would take to this, but she had surprised him. Both with her understanding of his uncomfortableness, and with her ability to adapt. They ate in silence, and Luke simply enjoyed being with Octavia again, even if he had to share her with a duck.
When the tortillas were finished, it was onto sinfully delicious chocolate brownies studded with chips of caramel and fudge that dissolved on the tongue.
“I could get used to this,” Octavia said in a throaty moan as her first bite dissolved.
“Any time you’re in town, sweet, I’m sure that Sam’d love to see you come back for more, and hearing all the gossip about how I’m leading you astray.”
“Are you sure that it’s not me that leading you astray?” she asked him, half closing her eyes to bat her eyelashes at him.
“Could be, could be,” he said amiably.
Satisfied with the bread and with a smidgeon of brownie, the duck waddled off to re-join his comrades, and Luke started to gather up the remnants of dinner, handing Octavia a napkin.
“Uncle Nico and I used to eat out in the park when I was little” she said thoughtfully. “We don’t do it so much now— not sophisticated enough for adults, Nico says. But sometimes, when we think the other is working too hard, we track them down and take them outside for some sun and fresh air.”
Luke folded down the top of the paper bag, and set it on the ground beneath his feet.
“It sounds like you and your uncle are close,” he noted.
“We are.” She smiled softly, scooting down the bench to snuggle into Luke’s side. “He raised me after my parents died. He ran the business too, until I was old enough to take it over as my parents wanted.”
“I’m sorry,” Luke said.
“I was only small, just turned two. I don’t really remember much. For as long as I’ve known, Nico’s been there for me.”
“I hope he likes me, then,” he commented.
“He will. He’s always asking when I’m going to find someone and settle down. He just wants to see me happy, and since I’m happy with you, there’s nothing for him to be worried about,” Octavia said, certainty coloring her tone. “Will you tell me about your family?”
“My family is on the larger side. I have three brothers, two married, and one sister. I’m an uncle once over already, and soon to be twice over. Mom is a housewife, and Dad’s a historian. We’re all—” he looked around to check for anyone close enough to be listening. “— Shifters. There’s a strong community of us here in Tucson, but we’re still few enough to mingle with each other unlike some places we’ve heard of. I mean, Mom’s neighbours are rhino shifters, and we get on fine. I couldn’t live in a purely jaguar village.”
“I hadn’t really considered that,” Octavia said thoughtfully. “We’re much more spread out in Cancun. There’s one other jaguar shifter that I know. His territory is next to my own, but other than that, there are no others.”
“Is your uncle not one?”
“He’s not, although he knows about us. In my family, shifting is matrilineal. My mother was a shifter, her mother was a shifter, and I am a shifter. Nicodemus, even though he was Mom’s brother, isn’t one, but any daughters he has will be.”
“Dad will love you.” Luke chuckled. “He loves delving into shifter history and family trees. I warn you, he may want to take a sample of your DNA for a friend.”
“Oh?” she asked.
Luke shrugged. “It involves gene sequencing, I think. I’m too stupid to understand much of that scientific stuff.”
Octavia kissed him to silence him. “Don’t put yourself down,” she said firmly. “You’re far more intelligent than you think you are.”
“Sure you’re not just biased?” he asked.
She kissed him again, and Luke let the conversation drop in favor of continuing their relationship.
***
Their next date, two weeks later, was not so much of a date as Luke doing Octavia a favor.
“There’s this dinner that I have to attend,” she told him over the phone. “It’s boring networking, but please, will you come with me so I have someone to talk to?”
He hadn’t been able to say no to the pleading note in her voice, which was why Luke now found himself standing in a penthouse apartment, feeling extremely out of place.
The apartment was minimalist, every item of furniture practical, functional, and with very little decoration. The walls were soft cream, with no decorations or paintings. Octavia seemed to be out of place in this, her own home. It seemed to Luke to be too sparse, too plain, for such a sweetheart. But, who was he to judge others’ taste?
He had flown down to Cancun the previous day in order for Octavia to drag him out shopping. She had insisted that he needed a new suit for the occasion, and that since he was her guest, she would be paying for it. His protests had fallen on deaf ears, and he’d finally let her have his way. He didn’t want to embarrass her with another suit that his muscles might tear.
He privately vowed to get her something in return, but it had to be a gift worthy of her. Not just expensive, but meaningful. He’d have to think about it.
In the privacy of his own head, he had to admit that it was the nicest suit he had ever owned, but as he stood in the middle of the floor, he still felt overdressed. It was a traditional black suit, with a subtle silver pinstripe woven through it. The shirt was charcoal grey, and the tie matched the stripes in silver. Someone had got a hold of his shoes, and now he could nearly see his reflection in them. The suit wasn’t quite his size, but it was the closest that Octavia could find on the rack. She had made noises about getting him a custom suit, but Luke knew that he would have to stand firm on that point.
Octavia had vanished into her bathroom to touch up her makeup. Luke had told her honestly that she was beautiful enough without it, but she had just laughed and said that she needed her warpaint for the evening. He wasn’t so sure, but he figured that she knew what she was doing.
The door buzzed, startling him.
“Get that, would you?” Octavia called from the bathroom.
“Sure,” he called back as he carefully walked over to the door, studying the various buttons, before pressing the intercom.
“Hello?” he said, feeling a little foolish talking to the box on the wall.
“Who is this, please?” a male voice asked sharply, in accented English.
“Mr. Covas,” Luke replied, a little stung at the brusque tone of voice the other man used.
“Ah,” came the noncommittal reply. “Please tell Octavia that I am waiting for her downstairs,” and the intercom buzzed again as the connection was cut off.
“Who was that?” Octavia asked as she stepped back into the room, brushing non-existent dust from her grey suit.
“Some guy, says he’s waiting downstairs,” Luke tried to keep the grumble from his voice.
“Must be Nicodemus.” Octavia lit up as she said her uncle’s name. “I can’t wait for the two of you to meet,” she said happily.
After that brief encounter via the intercom, L
uke wasn’t so sure, but decided not to comment. Octavia grabbed her crystal-studded bag, and hurried Luke out of the door towards the lift.
The second that the lift doors opened, Luke could pick out Nicodemus, standing near the doorway, his arms crossed across his chest. His expression was not welcoming as he scowled out into the night, but as Octavia stepped out, he turned and his whole body language changed.
“You look beautiful, as usual, Octavia,” he said, gesturing at her suit.
“Thank you, Uncle,” she said, pleased. “Now, I’d like you to meet Luke Covas. Luke, this is my uncle Nicodemus. Nico, Luke.”
“Pleasure,” Nicodemus said as he took Luke’s offered hand. His grip was firm, just shy of being uncomfortable, but Luke didn’t let it faze him, and returned the grip, strength for strength. Luke felt the other man’s eyes studying him, and felt as though he was being judged and coming up short in the older man’s estimation.
The trip in the car to the hotel where the dinner was to take place was an uncomfortable one for Luke. Octavia seemed to be oblivious to the undertones, talking about inconsequential things, while Nicodemus glowered and answered only in monosyllables. Luke wasn’t sure why the other man had taken such an instant dislike to him, but the glares were starting to grate on his nerves.
He was glad when they finally reached their destination. The outside of the hotel was lit with white and blue lights, and they sparkled on Octavia’s hair as she stepped out of the car. Luke made to follow, but Nicodemus was there first, almost rude in his brusqueness. Luke frowned, but turned into a brief smile when Octavia glanced his way curiously.
As soon as they stepped into the building, Luke felt even more out of place. It was like something out of a spy film, slick men and even slicker women. He felt a dozen assessing sets of eyes latch onto him the moment the doors closed, and saw Octavia’s chin rise just a little as she was measured. Nicodemus turned back to look at him, and his smile was just a little too sharp to be polite. Luke gritted his teeth, and mimicked Octavia.
Bunch of stuck up snobs. He could see why Octavia would want someone more down to earth to talk to.
He quickened his step and came up beside Octavia, threading his arm through hers.
“Cheery, aren’t they?” he noted, and she faintly smiled at him. “So this is high society? Doesn’t look like I’m missing much then.”
This did elicit a laugh from her, and a glare from a passing gray-haired man who looked scandalized that someone might be having fun.
“So, is there anything that I should or shouldn’t do?” he asked. “Don’t want to embarrass you, after all.”
Octavia considered this. Nicodemus, had halted ahead of them, waiting for them to catch up, and looked as if he was holding his tongue.
“Don’t believe anything anyone tells you, watch what I’m doing if you get confused, and remember that you could never embarrass me,” she leaned in and whispered into his ear. “It’s not your fault that they have sticks wedged up their bottoms.”
Luke couldn’t help himself, and laughed, a deep belly laugh that managed to draw all eyes to him. Octavia winked roguishly at him, and Nicodemus rolled his eyes.
“Octavia, darling!” a woman dressed in satin salmon pink swooshed over to them, the fruit decorated hat on her head swaying dangerously with her movement. “So good to see you again!”
They exchanged fluttering cheek kisses, before the woman turned to Luke, looking him up and down. Luke felt like a side of beef as her eyes lingered on his muscles. “And where did you find this specimen?” she asked.
“Cris, this is Luke. Luke, this is Cristina Camacho,” Octavia introduced them.
“Delighted,” Luke said politely as he suffered being air kissed with good grace.
“American?” she asked Octavia. “Now you really have to tell me where you found him.”
“It’s really not that exciting a story,” she demurred, but Luke could see that Cristina was not going to be swayed as she wrapped her arm around Octavia’s, pulling her away.
Luke raised an eyebrow at Octavia, silently asking if she wanted to be rescued, but Octavia shook her head. It’ll be short, she mouthed at Luke before she was pulled into a group of ladies, who then all started to shoot looks at him.
Luke felt rather conspicuous and more than a little exposed, and so took up an uncomfortable residence beside a potted rubber plant. It certainly wasn’t big enough to hide his frame, but he hoped it might confuse people enough. There was no sign of Nicodemus, and he didn’t think that he would seek out the company of the other man. There was something about his attitude that was rubbing Luke the wrong way, not to mention his nearly overt disapproval.
All around him were the movers and shakers of the Cancun business world, mingling and talking. Luke could hold his own down at the bar with the rest of his crew, but here in this hotel he felt like a minnow in a school of sharks pretending to be dolphins. The snatches of conversation he heard in English might as well have been in Greek for all he understood of them.
It was with a great sense of relief that he saw Octavia crossing the floor, looking around for him. His inner jaguar purred at the sight of her, and he stepped out from the cover of his plant. He saw the moment she caught sight of him and turned her steps in his direction.
“Hiding?” she asked, indicating the plant.
“A little intimidated,” he admitted. “You released from your interrogation?”
“Cris got bored of trying to get details out of me when I just kept smiling at her. It’s the one thing that’ll drive her crazy. Why are you intimidated?”
“This really isn’t the scene that I’m used to, sweet. If it weren’t for you bringing me, someone would have probably thrown me out by now,” he said, and he tugged at his shirt collar. “Feel a bit of a fraud, that’s all.”
“You’re not a fraud,” she said quickly. “You’re the most honest man here."
“That might be the problem.”
There was a soft chiming, and a large set of double doors at the back of the room opened. There was a general shift of movement as people started to move in that direction.
“Looks like something important,” Luke said as he and Octavia followed the slow-moving mass.
“A free meal is always important,” she said dryly.
The room was filled with ten tables, all covered in snowy white linen. The sparkle from the cutlery and glasses was almost blinding, there was that much of it. Each seat was covered in more white linen, and parchment nameplates rested on the plates.
Luke had just pulled out the right chair for Octavia when Nicodemus approached.
“Ah, Octavia,” he said cheerfully. “Would you mind very much switching with Beatrice Ybarra? Her husband very much wants to talk with you tonight.”
Octavia sighed. “Business, I assume?” she asked.
“Indeed,” he said. “I wouldn’t normally ask it of you, but he is important.”
“I know, I know," she muttered, and rested one hand on Luke’s arm. “I’m really sorry,” she began.
Luke bit down his initial reaction, and made shooing motions with his hands. “Your business comes first, sweet. I’ll still be here when you’re done talking shop.”
Her warm look promised rewards later in the evening. “Work from the outside in,” she muttered, before she reluctantly left his side and moved one table to the left. She studied the settings, switched a few around, and sat, making sure that all he had to do was look up and over at her.
“Sink or swim, classless boy,” Luke heard Nicodemus mutter before he departed for his own table.
Luke settled himself down at the table, shaking his shoulders a little to release the suit, which had bunched up. The seat was not the most comfortable of things, and he moved, trying to adjust, but stopped when his tablemates started to arrive. Besides Beatrice, there were two men and two ladies. The ladies each gave him their own appraising look, and the men disdainful ones. Luke kept his own expression blank.
>
White suited waiters began to circulate as everyone took their seats, carrying bowls of soup out to the tables. Luke looked at the cutlery settings, and blessed Octavia for what had seemed like cryptic parting words. Outside in, indeed.
The soup when it arrived was served in delicate bowls— expensive ones if the gilt around the edge was anything to go by. Idly, Luke wondered if there was anything in this place, including the people, that didn’t flaunt its expensive nature. Well, apart from Octavia. The soup was a deep red, smooth and creamy looking. There was no steam rising off it, which Luke thought was odd. The bowl, when he tested it, was cold to the touch.
No one else at the table seemed to be confused about this, or indeed, think that anything was out of the ordinary. He did notice one of the men watching him under the cover of buttering a roll. Luke mentally shrugged, and took a spoonful of the soup. As soon as it touched his lips, he tried not to show a reaction. It wasn’t just room temperature, it was chilled. He looked up at Octavia, who was listening as the man next to her gesticulated with his spoon. She looked mostly attentive, and was eating, so he assumed that this was just one of those things.
“Is the soup not to your liking?” the man to his right asked, and Luke was pretty sure that he wasn’t being sincere.
“It’s fine,” Luke told him dismissively. It wasn’t, but he certainly wasn’t going to let Octavia down, since they were all treating it as normal.
The man looked faintly disappointed and went back to his own meal.
Despite its chill, the soup was delicious, and Luke ate away with a will. There was not much conversation around the table as everyone seemed to be focused on their meal. When he checked, Octavia was still listening, but the look on her face now was more strained tolerance. He couldn’t see Nicodemus from where he was sitting.
Finally, all the plates were empty, and the buzz of conversation started to fill the room again. Luke settled back in his seat, fingers toying with the edge of his napkin.
“So, who are you?” Beatrice asked him bluntly. She was an older woman, elegant in black and pearls.