Faline

Not one for mincing words either. I wince and try to shrug, looking up at my arms and wiggling them to let him know I want loose. He shakes his head and looks at me intently. I sigh and try to explain without him knowing how confused I am.

"He and I don't mesh well. Picture like a volatile sibling rivalry thing. I'm not competing, but he seems to think so. Or even if he does know I'm not, that doesn't change how things have been...unfolding."

His response is to blink at me. This is going to take a while. I sigh.

"May I sit up? Little easier to converse when I'm upright and not being hovered over."

Relief and a smile cross his face before he polices it. Giving a small head dip, he reaches up and unbuckles the wide leather cuffs. Rubbing my wrists when I get sat up, it becomes obvious, as per usual, I'm nude. I sigh again as there are some things that will probably never change.

My long red and blonde hair falls around my face, looking almost alien after all the time I've spent wearing fur. Even my nudity isn't really important. Or isn't till his eyes start roaming.

"Eyes up here, sir, if you want to continue talking to a person and not a cat."

His eyes flash amusement as they make their way slowly back up from my chest. The sheet had already been over my lower half when sitting up.

"So you and Anthony are at each other's throats because you are competing? Over what?"

I give him a droll look. The realization is slow in coming, but when it does, his whole face lights up with a smile. I have to turn my head, looking at him actually hurting.

"Yet you are not competing? If not, why is he so angry?"

"My guess is I keep making things hard for him whenever I run off. I think he's caught on to the fact I'm doing things to deliberately get him in trouble or make him look the fool."

His smile is still on his face as he reaches out and turns my face back towards him.

"I had a feeling you were. There'd been several things that you could have done differently, but didn't, doing instead whatever seemed to make him the most angry. But what happened earlier? You flew at him without thought or regard to your own safety."

His reprimand takes me by surprise. My safety? Since when did he care about that? Then I get a brief flash of when we walked the halls during that event, running into that horrid woman and confusing lion.

"I was angry, depressed. He was right there so he became my outlet."

He just looks at me, disapproval on his face. I press my lips together and raise my head. His eyebrow rises at my defiance, but I stubbornly stick with it. Shaking his head he starts chuckling.

"You know, I'm not sure if you're more trouble while upright or as a cat. But I have been enjoying our time together immensely."

Now I look away, a slight blush coloring my cheeks. Crossing my legs in front of me, I start fidgeting, making sure the material stays in my lap. To change the subject, I bring up questions that kept coming up when I couldn't ask them.

"If you love Anthony so much, why am I here?"

That's been a question that has burned me for a while now. He looks incredulous but doesn't even hesitate on his answer.

"Because I love you too."

I don't even want to begin to touch that with a ten-foot pole. But since he's being so chatty, I take the time to keep asking.

"Why is your cat different than mine?"

He shrugs. I think I asked this before and he'd done the same thing, but I keep looking at him. He folds.

"It is said it's something within our blood. As if one of our long distant relations was that animal, shared blood with one, or made some kind of magic based deal."

That sounds confusing as hell, but I sort of understand what's being said?

"Alright, that sort of makes sense, I guess, but in that same line, what kind of cat am I?"

His brow furrows for a moment as if he has to think about it.

"I believe she's called an ocelot. You may be a little bigger than a natural one would be, but that's normal. Just as mine is."

I nod, filing that away to look up later when able. An ocelot. It doesn't sound familiar. I tap on my knee absently as I think about the whole full moon thing with Were-animals.

"And the full moon? It was brought up at least twice. Once by your do...Anthony, and by that lion guy. The whole thing with a female in heat? How does that tie together?"

Both brows rose at what I had almost said, but I continue to act as nothing happened. A smirk crosses his features, male legs stretch out beside me as he lays back, arms going behind his head. The pillow under him keeps him positioned high enough to see me with no problem. Nicolaus lays one leg over the other before he answers.

"When it comes to Weres, just like some of the legends that fly around among humans, the full moon holds sway over their bodies. All below a certain age have to shift to either of their furred forms. Females also have to deal with those three days being the time they go into heat, just like their animal counterparts would. In the daytime, they can be in their human forms, but at night they have to shift. Most breeds abide by what the female wants during this time, a few, however, do not. It can be rough and even brutal for the females of those types."

During his long explanation, his one leg had raised, bending at the knee. Making a tent of the blanket in his lap. The material steadily creeps off as he re-positions and shifts.

The information explains why Anthony had been a wolf coming into the room, and what he had meant earlier by not being useful. I studiously ignore looking at anything but his face as I plow ahead.

"Who was that female Vampire? She seemed to know you very well. Next time you see her though, need to tell her to lay off bathing in her perfume, that shit was awful."

He laughs, a deep, from the belly laugh. I scowl at him.

"I'm being serious, that woman was rank. I swear those sneezes jumbled my brains."

His arms fold over his waist, laughing up a storm. Stomach muscles bunch hard, long dark hair spreading out across the pillow. I snatch it out from under his head and hit him with it.

"Laugh it up you hyena, next time I'm pushing your nose into her cleavage so your nose can burn off your face."

He tries to slow his laughing, but each time he looks at me, he bursts out again. This is definitely a side I've never seen before. I can't help but smile. Hitting him with the pillow again before he grabs it and holds it against his abs, I watch as with a flushed face, he sits up, keeping his head down.

"My love, stop, I can't take anymore. Mercy."

I cross my arms, ignoring the endearment that never seems to go away no matter what I do.

"Why should I? You didn't take mercy on me when she was crawling all over you. That witch tried to kick me. She deserved everything she got and more."

He sobers rather quickly at that, his face finally turning up to me once more. My breath catches in my throat for a moment. Tousled hair falls around his shoulders and in front of his face, hiding his scar. Slit orange eyes hold my apparent gold ones.

"She kicked you?"

I squirm under his scrutiny.

"More like a knocked into me when she was rubbing on you. I moved, but that was the last straw before I let her have it."

His fingertips caress my cheek, eyes dropping from mine to my lips. He shifts closer without seeming to realize he'd done so.

"Her name is not important, a ghost from my past that refuses to die. She finds ways to annoy me whenever she can. She knew her scent was that strong, probably knew I had you with me and that you were in cat form. It seems people have a nasty habit of underestimating you, my dear."

Nicolaus' eyes jump back to mine as he says the last, a smile creeping onto his lips, which catches my gaze in return.

"Even I did. I knew you had a fire within you, but I would never have guessed just how brightly it could burn."

The fire metaphor coming from him is too much. I roll my eyes, even though deep within me I take the compliment to heart. Even more so since I was so close to losing that fire. Things are starting to get dangerous as sexual tension begins to rise. A question abruptly leaves me out of nowhere.

"Why does a Vampire need a solarium?"

He blinks a few times, seeming to not understand the question as he stares at my lips from inches away. Since he had let go of the pillow, I snag it and hold it to me. The man took me at my word to keep his eyes above my neck, but that's turning out to be just as distracting.

"What?"

I smirk at him as he blinks a few more times, trying to reorient himself before clearing his throat and finally answering me.

"It was probably already attached to the place when she acquired it. She's also feline bloodline, so I would imagine she lets her cat out every now and then within it."

I nod, that actually making sense. In a roundabout way, it reminds me of the submissives. My brows come together as I picture them.

"And the submissives? Why do they sit the way they do? I can guess why they're waiting outside of a room, but why that position?"

His face lightens, eyes once more finding mine to show his amusement.

"You call them submissives? Well, you're not wrong. They are house slaves. Those who have caught the Lady's eye while she's out. They're usually from rough backgrounds, many already whores on the street. Cruel pimps who don't take care of their stock are well known on the streets. When word gets to her, she visits to see them all and judges them on how useful they can or will be. Then she either buys them all or kills the pimp and his enforcers. She treats them well enough, a lot better than what they had come from. In return for giving them a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and a sense of safety, she has them ply their trade in a contained environment all while keeping the house maintained and food available for those who eat. They're also to be available whenever needed for sustenance."

He takes a breath, that explanation being the most I think I've ever heard him say at one time. Clearing his throat, he lays back down, hands going behind his head again. One bent leg coming up once more. The blanket having been moved around so much has lost the battle of covering his groin.

The thin trail of coarse hairs leads from his belly button on down, my eyes focus on them randomly. In my peripheral vision, I can see his body stir. I keep my eyes firmly on his waist, eyeballing the hole indented there.

Movement of his hand sliding down his body catches my gaze and follows. Long pale fingers slip from his chest to his hipbone, stopping for a moment before slipping lower. Yup, I'm in trouble. I shake my head hard and plop the pillow I'm holding onto his groin.

He chuckles lightly, but his hand stays hidden, desire-heated orange eyes trying to capture mine. I gulp and flounder for another question.

"Alright, the other day you and Anthony had been talking, referring to your business as a 'he', what were you talking about?"

I can see his arm muscles abruptly still, his whole pale-skinned body freezes. Instantly he moves the pillow and stands, walking away. That can't be good. I stay where I am, my hands twisting nervously in my lap.

All the laughter and softness, even the erotic tempting is totally gone from his movements, his face. My heart thumps hard at all the possible reasons he'd pulled back like that, and none of them are good. I now regret asking, but it's honestly something I need to know, if for no other reason than to have as much knowledge of things going on around me as possible. Better chance of staying alive.

"Nicolaus?"

I call out softly, never having done so before. My altered voice makes it sound a bit to bedroomy for me. Clearing my throat does no good. I'll either have a permanent frog or it will fade over time.

He paces around the room. Not staying to one specific route as his face shows intense concentration, hands clenching tight then releasing. I start getting a very bad feeling. His concentration goes to confusion, then anger. I remember seeing this before. I stay absolutely still.

Snatching up his jeans, he jerks them up. These ones being zipper, they get zipped all the way, but the button is left undone. Not even taking the time to pull his hair back, he just abruptly leaves, walking out of the room with a purpose. The door slams behind him as if an angry child sent to his room.