Human Interaction

by Cheyenne Meadows

  We'd bonded on one crazy night of mass chaos spent together. I had refused to cower, he'd decided I had earned his respect. Since then, I'm the only gopher he deals with and even shows a few manners when in public. You could sum up Cannibal in a few words—think tall, dark, and handsome meets speak softly and carry a big stick. Who needed to yell when he could just beat the crap out of someone instead?

  I broke in on the middle of his list of demands. "Have you eaten?"

  He growled something vaguely sounding like a negative. "I'll pick up some food on the way." He started in again, but I just talked over him. "I'll do it anyway. Yeah, well. It's never a good idea to ride with a hungry Cannibal. You never know when he might have a snack attack and slice off a pinky toe to gnaw on."

  I held the phone off my ear as his voice rose. "You and I both know there isn't a place that makes human fingers and rice. You're just being deliberately difficult," I countered in my best 'Mommy isn't happy' voice.

  He continued to grumble on the other end. "Fine. I'll swing by for a bucket of mountain oysters on the way. You like extra crispy or original?"

  I started to pull the phone from my ear before hearing his voice soften and calm. "Uh huh. Thought you might change your mind. KFC it is."

  I hung up, shut the phone, and slid it back into my purse.

  Meat, obviously eavesdropping, asked, "You're going to meet a cannibal?" His eyes widened at my nod.

  "Yep."

  Both Meat and Ducian stared at me with a look of incredibility.

  "I'm going with you," they replied in unison.

  I blinked. "Umm. Thanks for the offer, but you can't." I shifted weight from one foot to another. Any other time, they would wave me off, wishing me a happy castle-storming with Cannibal. But not tonight. Tonight, their hackles stood straight up and protective mode took priority.

  "Why not?" Ducian demanded.

  "Well, for one, Ducky, you're on his bad list as he frowns on vampys who dress to the nines. And Meat…" What excuse could work for him? Think, think. I can hear the Jeopardy theme ticking in my head. "He doesn't… play well with others." Yeah, that sounds impressive. Not.

  Meat simply glared. The excuse probably fell short of the mark with the shifter. Maybe Meat didn't play well with others too? That wasn't quite right; he seemed to play really well with Misha.

  I slammed the door on that memory. Past history now. I needed to move forward.

  "No worries. Last time I was with him I had my face in his crotch, my panties were wet, and he had a blowout." I flashed an impish smile.

  Both their mouths fell wide open. I focused on biting my tongue to refrain from laughing. A small pinky wave and I stepped to the side. Meat grabbed me by the arm. "Wait."

  "Gotta get to work," I said, feeling a tiny quiver where his hand rested on my elbow.

  He pulled me against his body, rubbing his chin over my head and neck, making a chuffing sound in the process. At first I thought the gesture resembled a hug and I squeezed him in return, but he kept brushing his face over me.

  I pushed at his chest, finally gaining freedom. "What in the world are you doing?"

  A small, sheepish grin covered his face. His eyes glanced up at Ducian, then back down to meet mine. "Scent marking you."

  "Huh?"

  A kiss to the forehead followed. "Just a message to this Cannibal guy, reminding him to watch his manners with you."

  I blinked up at him. He grinned wickedly back. "Go out with me."

  "I…" I bit my lip.

  The announcer's voice introducing Meat rocketed through the room.

  He placed a quick kiss to the tip of my nose then stepped back. "I'll call you tomorrow. We'll go somewhere nice this time." With the promise he strode toward the stage, long steps eating up the distance.

  I glanced up to see Ducian grinning like a court jester.

  "What?"

  He shook his head, giving me a nudge toward the door. "Off you go, Princess. You have a Cannibal waiting for finger… chicken." His laugh followed me to the exit.

  Men. I swear.

  I headed out, recalling my first major experience with the Enforcer known as Cannibal. He had found me outside a dance club, sitting on the curb, pondering the meaning of life. Plopping down beside me, he'd made the mistake of inquiring about a yellow thong attached to my bracelet. After a long explanation with a few shakes of his head and a couple of pinches to the bridge of his nose, he'd offered me a ride home. A flat tire had sent me tumbling, landing face first in his crotch. Definitely at the top of my most embarrassing moments list. Luckily, after a quick fix, he had dropped me home, accepting a promise of cookies for all the trauma he'd suffered in my presence.

  CHAPTER 17

  Meat picked me up for our second date as promised the next evening. If nothing else, he exuded patience and persistence in spades, giving me little chance to decline. No wasn't an option. Thankfully Jessica had no evening plans after working all day at her shop and volunteered to watch the boys. I hated to ask her to babysit with her busy schedule, but she never minded, especially in a pinch.

  The more upscale restaurant served all varieties of dishes while maintaining a pleasant atmosphere for cozy diners, much better than the kids' pizza parlor to which I'd taken the boys several weeks earlier. The corner booth served our purpose, both comfy and out of the way, encouraging conversation while allowing a semblance of privacy as we dug into our meals.

  I chomped on a carrot, while he attacked his steak with a vengeance.

  "That scent marking thing wasn't very nice."

  The loon just grinned, in the midst of chewing.

  I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. "The whole night, people told me I smelled like I had a run-in with a skunk."

  He paused to swallow and snort. "Heathens. It's a high class cologne scent, musky and sexy."

  Uh huh. "Guess it only works with those critter type people and other special near-humans with highly tuned senses. Jessica and I couldn't smell a thing."

  "Human noses aren't sensitive enough to detect it." Meat stabbed another piece of meat.

  I grabbed my water, taking a sip. "Yeah, well. I just about got booted out of Cannibal's car last night due to the stench factor."

  His eyes hooded for a second, then flashed mischief. "So, he kept his distance last night?"

  My spoon clanged against the china bowl full of steaming chicken noodle soup. "If you're asking me if I had my nose in his crotch last night, the answer is no." I swear. What is that one about curiosity killing the cat? I could definitely see why that phrase came about. Much more and he would be suffering a bruised shin.

  A wicked smile flashed across his face. "And were your panties wet?"

  I gasped, almost choked on my own spit. Good thing I didn't have that spoonful of soup in my mouth yet. As it was, the spoon plopped back to the bowl, making another loud clang.

  The devil sat there grinning like a mad hare, his eyes challenged me to answer. Gathering up my wits, I tried to focus on a proper retort, something snarky, something haughty. The pressure increased as another couple of seconds ticked away. Finally, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

  "That's for me to know and you to find out."

  Meat busted out laughing. For a split second, I stared at him completely confused.

  My words came rushing back, causing my face to immediately heat.

  His eyes flashed with sensual desire, a promise if I ever saw one.

  Why do I feel like I just fell into a tiger pit and there is no way out? Quickly, I changed the subject to safer ground. "Tell me about yourself."

  The expression on his face told me he saw through my topic change, but decided to go with the flow. "What do you want to know?"

  "Let's see. You're a liger. There probably aren't too many liger shifters around."

  "A few. Not nearly as many as other varieties."

  "You've never really spoke of your family. Why's that?"

  He shrugged and took a
long drink before answering. "Like I said before, trust is an issue. Despite the laws, there's quite a few people out there that would like nothing more to have a liger rug covering their floor."

  "But, shifters are magical, powerful…"

  "And not immune to bullets."

  "Which is why you never speak of your shifter family?"

  "The welfare of the group depends upon everyone using common sense and keeping their mouth closed. Pride secrets are just that. Secrets."

  The firm tone told me exactly where he stood. Protective of his loved ones with sound reasons. "Have any siblings?"

  "A sister. And, yes, she's a liger, too."

  "Parents?" I lifted the spoonful of soup to my lips, relatively confident I could swallow now without aspirating.

  "Yes."

  I rolled my eyes. "I figured you had parents. Last thing I knew cats didn't hatch from eggs."

  His lips twitched.

  "So, are they still alive? What do they do?"

  "Yes, they're around, still middle-age in shifter lifespan. Being pride alphas, they oversee all investments and happenings that have to do with the group."

  His parents were alphas? Oh, my. "Which makes you…?"

  "An alpha. Next in line for pride alpha."

  Why didn't that little fact surprise me? Because he acted like an alpha, carried himself like one. Possessed the confidence and oozed arrogance as only a truly born leader could.

  "I expect along with the position comes money, especially as you can save and invest for centuries. Considering that, why do you still dance?"

  He shrugged, chewing another large bite of his meat. "I like it."

  "And the PI business?"

  "A hobby I happen to be good at."

  "Ever date a human?"

  His eyebrow arched up. "Date? No. You ever date a shifter?"

  "Not even close." I swallowed. "Why me?"

  The sultry spark reappeared in his deep blue eyes. "You're entertaining, different. There's an innocence that makes me want to shield you from everything bad even as I teach you the bliss of shifter sex."

  I took a stout drink of my water. His words buoyed my heart, sending a streak of joy as well as a healthy wave of embarrassment over me. Shifter sex. How did that differ from human sex? Curiosity prodded me to ask for details. My luck, the liger would proceed to demonstrate, and we'd become a public spectacle. Much better to have an ostrich moment and stick my head in the sand than fan the already roaring flames of kitty libido.

  "What's it like to be in kitty form?"

  His eyebrow cocked. Sliding a full fork in his mouth, he pulled it away empty. "Empowering. Freeing. It's hard to explain. I'm still me, just in a different form. The cat and I are one and the same. Sure, my senses are a bit sharper and instincts more at the fore, but I'm really the same person whether I'm covered in skin or fur."

  I shot him an impish grin. "So, in kitty form, you're on the prowl for female kitties in heat?"

  "Are you in heat?"

  I coughed as my face burned as hot as a blast furnace.

  He chuckled. "The only female I'm interested in is you."

  "Good thing. I've become a bit attached to you, fur, claws, and all." The declaration felt right and good. I seized the words and tucked them away for later, close to my heart.

  The rest of the date went fairly well. He accused me of a Freudian slip. I pointed out he was a barbarian. I reminded him I was haughty, not horny. He said time would tell.

  We finished eating and headed to the bowling alley. Yeah, I know. The thought of me with a ten pound weapon in hand was a bit frightening. Meat didn't seem concerned for me, but more like for others. In fact, he watched my every move. Silly me thought the rapt attention pertained to the safety of other bowlers from my menacing klutziness until he commented on how nicely my slacks pulled snug when I lowered the ball to the waxed surface. Such a barbarian.

  Afterward, he loaded me in the car and drove me home just before midnight. Pulling up in the driveway, he turned off the engine, jumped out of the car, trotted to the passenger side, and opened my door. Offering a hand, he helped me out, leading me to the front porch before wrapping both arms around my waist.

  "I had a great time." He rubbed his nose against mine in an Eskimo kiss.

  "Me too."

  "The date doesn't have to end. We could go inside…" He waggled his eyebrows in suggestion.

  I smiled at his playfulness. "Sorry. There'd be gawkers."

  "Can't perform for an audience?" He nuzzled my ear.

  "Definitely no."

  "It could be fun."

  "Or not."

  He laughed, shifting until our bodies meshed against one another. Leaning in, his lips lowered, covering mine with precision. Gently, he coaxed them apart, then slipped his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. I followed suit, long dormant passion returning as I clung to him, needing his taste more than anything else at that moment.

  Too quickly, he pulled back with a deep sigh. "Dream of me tonight."

  With those words, he spun, leaped off the porch, and walked back to his car. I opened the door, turned on the light, and watched him drive away.

  CHAPTER 18

  Cannibal called at dawn, ordering me to pick up a box for him and deliver it the very same morning. He warned the item was fragile and sensitive to heat. And, just as a nice add on, reminded me if I broke it, I would find myself transferred to the North Pole to serve the tiny anti-Santa Enforcer group. I fired back that Santa kept a naughty list, and his name would climb to the top of the list with such threats. He snorted and hung up.

  I pulled the SUV into the parking lot, having decided to make a pit stop at Melody's Cookie Shop. I needed to pee. Besides, a fresh hot chocolate chip cookie in the morning made the world a better place.

  Melody and I had met a while back when she'd first opened her cookie shop. With my sweet cravings and her slow beginning, we had formed a solid friendship, exchanging sorrows over cookies and milk. Lately, her business thrived, but she always made time for me when I popped in for something decadent.

  The box sat in the back floorboard, protected from any pothole jostling. I even had the heater turned way down, lest the thing melt. As a result, the cold turned my fingers a lovely shade of blue. Going without heat at the end of November bordered on stupidity or masochism. In my case, I chalked it up to fear of a head hunter and a fondness for my toes.

  Hopping out of the X5, I took a moment to consider the package. It was probably some sort of ancient crystal ball that foretold the future. With the holidays upon us and shoppers out in force, boxes were known to disappear from parked vehicles. And I certainly didn't want to have to call Cannibal back and explain how his precious box had been stolen. Oh, no.

  Opting to carry the box with me, I took the container in hand and paused to look both ways before crossing the busy street. A flashy motorcycle pulled up beside me and stopped. The rider, dressed in somewhat familiar black leathers, turned the ignition off and nudged down the kickstand. Once he removed the black helmet, I easily recognized the shoulder-length dark hair and those piercing blue eyes.

  "Oh, hi." Looks like I wasn't the only early riser after our date.

  "Hey yourself." He raked his gaze up and down my body then flashed a wicked grin. "You're up early this morning. Couldn't sleep for your naughty dreams of me?"

  I snorted, shifting the heavy box a bit. "You wish."

  "I know." He literally purred, full of confidence.

  My face flamed. He didn't? Did he? No. Despite all their magical abilities, shifters couldn't read minds or eavesdrop in on nighttime dreams, right?

  The horny toad actually laughed. "I'm quite good at guessing."

  Yeah, well. I was going to be quite good at beaning him in a minute.

  The box weighed down further, prompting me to gingerly set it down by the rear tire of Meat's motorcycle. Well out of traffic, in the section allotted for motorcycle parking, no one would get close enough to swipe the all
-important cardboard box.

  "I haven't seen this before. Is it new?" I gestured to his bike.

  He swung his leg over, smiling proudly. "Not new, actually. Had it about three years. She's my baby."

  "It's very pretty. Powerful too, I'd think." I noticed the small license plate on the back. "2HOT?"

  His dimple popped out. "Don't you think it fits?"

  Not touching that with a twenty foot pole.

  He trailed one hand along the exquisitely painted metal and over the leather seat. "Ever hear of Jesse James?"

  My brow furrowed as I nodded. "Train robber? Bad guy? Wore a bandana over his face?"

  "No. Motorcycle genius." He chuckled. "Same name, different century. Anyway, it's custom built by him."

  "Wow. That had to cost a pretty penny." With his Jaguar and his house, I didn't figure him for the poor house, but what he stated next dropped my mouth open.

  "Seventy-five grand."

  "That's a lot of lap dances." I stared at the bike from a new perspective and backed up a step so I wouldn't be near enough to even brush a speck of dust on the highly priced machine.

  "Oh, yeah. That's one of my talents you should try and soon." Those eyebrows wiggled once more.

  I found my feet enthralling.

  He chuckled and glanced across the street while hanging his helmet from the handlebars. "You headed to the cookie shop?"

  I nodded. "One of my good friends owns it. She makes the best cookies in the region."

  Meat grinned. "Then, I must give them a try."

  He reached out; I automatically took his hand, letting him lead me across the street. Pulling the door open, he waited for me to enter.

  I peeked back and realized I'd forgotten something. "Oh, my box. I need to…"

  "Don't worry about it. I put a ward on the bike. The box is close enough it should be included."