by Sam Hall
“Oh, good, this is all just a massive psychotic break,” I said as I stepped away from the pile, tripping on the sweatpants I’d tugged back on this morning.
“Gah, of course I get sent as a tribute to a bloody simpleton. Look, missy. Open. The. Door. And. Let. Puss. Out.”
“Am I getting patronised by a figment of my imagination? Is my self-esteem that low?”
“Oi, suit! Little help?”
“What do we have here?” Mark said, stepping into the room and buttoning his jacket. He looked down at the carrier and then flipped the latch, letting it out. “You don’t get to stay here unless she accepts your court’s tribute.”
“Well, I do know the rules,” the cat said with a sneer. I wouldn’t have thought cats had the requisite facial features to pull that off, but apparently, I was wrong. He padded out of the carrier with all the elegant arrogance an ordinary cat would, though there was something extra about him. He was three times as big as a normal cat for one, with thick plush fur that ended in a long question mark plume of a tail. On his chest was a crescent moon marking in the purest of white, and in one ear, a small silver ring had been pierced. “Aen, milady, at your service. I ask that you accept my court’s offer of tribute, that you might consider our suit.”
“He’s real?” I asked Mark.
“Quite real. The Cat Sidhe are from the Scottish courts.”
“Yes, and yet I’ve been relegated here. So, stay or go? What say you?”
I’d like to say what happened next was because of my parents’ repressive insistence that we don’t have pets on the property, but it probably wasn’t it. I swear to god, there were hearts in my eyes as I said, “OMG! Kitty!” and rushed over to hug the shit out of him.
“Yes, well—dear god, woman, unhand me!”
The cat wriggled out of my grip, leaping onto the pile of loot and giving me a sharp look.
“My lady, have you no decorum?”
“I’m sorry, but kitty!”
“No, no,” he held out a paw, his claws snicking out when I didn’t stop coming. “No further, if you please. I must have your decision. Do you accept or reject our offer?”
“What is the offer? You never said.”
“No? Well, I believe it’s written on the scroll on the side of this carrier.”
Mark reached over and pulled it from a small cylinder built into the side of the carrier.
“Milady, please accept this offer of one of our loyal servants as a token of our esteem.”
“Yes, and…” the cat said, waving his paw.
“That’s it.” Mark passed the scroll over to the cat, who batted it in frustration. I reached over and smoothed it flat, something that earned me a steady look.
“No request for audience. They… They just gave me to you.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to tamp down the thrill of pleasure. A cat! I might have endured agonising pain and a complete transformation of my body and dreamed murder sex dreams about my best friend’s dad as he got me off, but a cat! This fae malarkey might be OK after all. “Well, welcome aboard, Aen.”
“Like a bloody stray kitten. I’ve been…re-homed.” The cat blinked, looking around him as if seeing it for the first time. I wasn’t sure if he was pleased with what he saw. “So, may I have the pleasure of knowing my new…mistress’s name?”
“Kira,” I said.
“Kira of House…nothing right now. Well, needs must and all that. Could I trouble you for a bite to eat and a saucer of water? I’ve been in that blasted carrier for some time.”
“Of course!” I went to the fridge that was groaning with food from last night’s deliveries. “What can I…oh!”
The cat landed on my shoulder, sending me stumbling forward until I caught myself on the door.
“What do we have here? Hmm, some Atlantic salmon. Yes, please. No, that’s threadfin. Tuna. Dear god, woman, has no one taught you one fish from another? Yes, that one. Mmm…some caviar as well. Don’t be stingy. Pfft, now you’ve put it on the fish. I don’t like my food touching each other.”
“You wanna do this yourself?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No opposable thumbs. Now…”
I’d set him down on a table with the food and some water, and the sentinel dudes were starting to get their own breakfasts from the leftovers, when the next gift arrived.
“Hey girl!” Vervain popped her head through the door, rolling a huge suitcase behind her, but her partner arrived a lot more circumspectly. I stiffened when I saw Marlow, getting to my feet, and his eyes met mine across the pile for a moment. “I think we’ve got some stuff you’ll like.”
“Hey,” I said, moving in when she held her arms out to me, now conscious of the fact that I was in Marlow’s old sweatpants, Mark’s t-shirt, and no bra. It didn’t seem to matter. When Marlow finally did look at me, there was that same intensely naked look on his face, like he wanted to reach for me but was waiting for the slap down to come. I frowned, wondering how the hell I’d managed to provoke that.
“Oh, look, the kids are staring at each other across class. We need a shower and a style, stat, and probably some underwear,” Vervain said. “The fellas here are studiously trying to ignore the fact you’re free balling in a deliciously jiggly way, but they’ll be able to eat their Wheaties much more easily if you’re trussed up.”
“What?”
My eyes flicked around the room where everyone was definitely not looking at me.
“She means your mammary—” Aen said, having appeared by my side.
“Yes, I got that part,” I replied.
“I’ll show you to a bathroom,” Mark said.
“But don’t use their products. Home boy here’s hair is screaming for a hot oil treatment, and even fae silken locks can get dry and brittle.” Vervain locked arms with me after grabbing a small bulging bag.
“Um…”
I stood in the door of Mark’s room in just a towel, the cat sitting on the armchair, Vervain and Marlow sorting through the bags they’d brought. They conferred over what was inside before turning to take a look at me.
“All done? Let’s find some undies for you, then time to blow out that mane.”
“Vervain.” The woman stopped mid movement at Marlow’s quiet voice. “Can you grab the diffuser from the car and a chair?”
Her eyes flicked from him to me, and then she nodded, saying brightly, “Of course. I might take a bit, looking for that diffuser though. It’s been a while since we used it.”
“That’s fine.”
She sauntered out, shooting me a cheeky wink before closing the door behind her.
“Look—” I said, but he held out a hand, then took mine when he saw my face fall. He squeezed the fingers, and the pathetic part of me soaked up every second of that gesture.
“Clothes first,” he said, his voice slightly raspy. “My control’s not that good. Take a look.”
I edged in closer to look at what he’d spread out onto the bed for me to wear today, and a sharp waft of smoky sweet perfume filled my nose as I did so. My eyes jerked to his, frowning for a second. “Bloom?” I said, croaking the word out.
“Vervain told you? Yes, though it’s considered impolite to mention it.”
“It’s impolite to mention you’re getting hot under the collar?”
Those green eyes looked into mine baldly. “Yes, when we have no time at all to talk about it. You’re about to enter the court system. Learning how to mask your true feelings is all part of surviving it. So can you help me to do that by putting on the clothes we sat up all night tailoring for you? We’ve tried to stay true to your…style.”
“Tactful.”
“That’s an important skill to develop too. The jeans that will fit you like a glove, and they’re distressed and boot cut. I know the fascination with skinny legs endures, but you need a little something to balance—” His eyes dropped to where my towel was wrapped tight around my newly improved bust. “You are all curves, so we work with that. Vervai
n mentioned your Changeling shirt as a favourite, and we’ve tailored some of the merch we could get our hands on, but…” He sighed. “If you choose to honour the intended agreement, join Hartley, wearing their banner will be advantageous, mark you as theirs and beyond reproach. But unless you’ve already made your mind up?” I shook my head. “Then I would suggest not.”
“Unless you want to play some truly deep games.” We both turned to see Aen open one eye from where he was curled up. “Make them careless. Think they have the cat in the bag, so to speak, and let their arrogance trip them up.”
“I am not up for that,” I said.
The cat snorted, his eyes closing again.
“Then I would suggest one of these.”
Marlow flicked through t-shirt after t-shirt. Well, they were kind of t-shirts.
“Um…is there something missing here?” I said, poking my finger through yet another peekaboo hole in the neckline of one of my choices.
“You want to act like your body hasn’t changed, but it has. T-shirts can be boxy and swamp your curves, making you look stocky when you’re anything but. You need darts for days and something that stops the bloody dreaded uniboob.”
Our eyes met, each staring the other down until he let out a long sigh. His hands went around my arms, fingers biting in.
“Look, love, I know this drives you mad, that this isn’t what you want, but it’s the world we live in. Fae are all about surface. The deliriously, endlessly beautiful surface to hide the bloody ugliness that goes on under it. I dress you like this because it matters, even if it doesn’t matter to you. They will perceive you, and accord you respect and honours based on it. It’s not fair, but that’s the way it works. I can’t let you walk into a full sitting of the court without taking every bloody weapon at your disposal.”
He shook his head, then flipped open another bag.
“This is not your style, but I sat up making it, anyway.” He unzipped a garment bag, and drew out a white top. The words didn’t accurately represent what it was. I got closer, my hand immediately going to the delicate fabric, but I pulled away when I saw the incredible work that had gone into it. He watched me scan the garment, taking in the gauzy fabric, the exquisite embroidery all around the bodice, the baby doll structure, complete with a tie to pull it in taut under my breasts and flaring out into a romantic hem.
“Oh my god, it’s beautiful.”
“This and this with these,” he said, gesturing to the total outfit. No Chuck Taylors unfortunately, but the embroidered silk slippers were flats at least. His smile was brilliant when I nodded. “C’mon, then. Vervain left to her own devices is a little dangerous. Put them on, and I’ll come back and adjust whatever needs it.”
None of it needed adjusting—the jeans, the top, even the delicate white lace underwear were perfect fits. They came back as I stared into the mirror, afraid to move.
“Why do I look like the result of Stevie Nicks and Amber Rose having a baby?” I said to my reflection.
“God, would I like to see the impregnation process. Amber could go back in time when Stevie was still on the coke, and Rhiannon would be playing in the background…” Vervain said, stepping up to one side.
“What do you think?” Marlow asked.
“It’s bloody beautiful.”
“No, love, you’re beautiful. Now, time for hair and makeup.”
I tried to go with it, and just let myself be pampered. Well, I didn’t have much choice. Vervain and Marlow were like a many armed dervish, plucking and smoothing, blow-drying and styling, until finally, they stepped back.
“Huh,” Aen said sleepily. “You don’t look like you anymore. Was that the point?”
“You look the perfect faery princess,” Vervain said with a satisfied smile. She jerked forward and twitched a strand of my hair, then pulled back.
“Thank you, Vervain. Leave the clothes here for Kira and pack the rest up.” He produced a tube of lip gloss and a tiny bottle of perfume from his pocket.
“You got it.”
He waited until the last item was removed and the door was closed before moving nearer, until his legs stood on either side of mine. My breath caught in my chest as he leaned down, dewy gloss wand in his hand. He was a lot closer than I’d ever seen a makeup artist get, and I didn’t mind at all. Instead, my fingers dug into the arms of the chair I was sitting on, wanting to touch him, to tear that fucking shirt off that deprived me the view of the muscular chest I knew lurked underneath. I felt a low throb between my legs as my lips fell open, then the brush swabbed across them, leaving that slick, glistening residue. He went to pull back when he was done, but I grabbed at his wrist.
“Don’t we need to blot it?”
“What? You don’t—”
I cut him off, pulling him down for just this—just one kiss. He froze initially, then melted into me. It was just a soft, platonic thing compared to last night, but I ached for it to be more. He pulled away first, staring down at me as my eyes trailed down. Yeah, it looked like he ached for it as well.
I stopped him when he went to wipe the gloss off.
“No, I want something of mine on you,” I said. Where the fuck had those words come from? I’ve never said anything as forward as that to anyone before. I felt a momentary pang as he just stared, but I didn’t have to wait long for my reward. A cautious smile that soon developed into something well pleased spread across his face.
But it didn’t last long.
He dropped his head, blew out a breath, then glanced back at me.
“Look, they’re going to try and make me your preceptor. The Rutherglen, Jennifer, they know there’s a connection there now, and they’ll want to use it. The Hartley’s contract, at least for employing you as their photographer, is pretty tight. There doesn’t seem to be any way to wriggle out of it, though the Rutherglen is pissed he wasn’t alerted to your power before now. He’ll try to use me, Jennifer, anything to keep a hold of you. Don’t let them. Whichever court you go to, nothing is exclusive. Your loyalty is all that’s required. If you want to pursue things—”
“I think we can dispense with the bullshit. We both want to explore this, for quite some time, in a room with a substantial lock, lots of lube, and Gatorade.”
He snorted at that, and for a moment, I saw a free, spontaneous reaction. He was grinning before he forced himself to ask. “Gatorade?”
“Gotta stay hydrated.”
“You have changed a lot. More than anyone I’ve ever seen. You would never have said anything like this when we first met.”
“Well, I don’t usually propose sex marathons with people on first acquaintance, but I used to say a lot of this, in my head.” I nodded, because it made more sense now. “I haven’t had another attack, and the limitations I used to have to live with aren’t there anymore. I guess I kinda feel free.”
“Freedom suits you well, so don’t give it away to anyone. Novitiates often come to court with human morality encoded in them. It’s not like that with us. Monogamy, pair bonding, women waiting around for men to approach them, even heterosexuality, these aren’t necessarily important at court. You can have them if you want, but there’s so much more.”
“So this means I might get to see this beautiful body twined around some guy’s?”
He froze, something intense flashing in his eyes.
“You’re really into that, aren’t you?”
I leant forward, looking more closely at him. “And so are you.”
He backed up, pocketing the gloss.
“I…I’ve never been attracted to a body type or a gender, or anything specific. For me, its people. If I’m into the person, if that connection’s there, I want to be with them. Everything else doesn’t matter to me. But this isn’t about me and you, Kira.” He smiled tentatively at my growl of frustration. “Your preceptor needs to be someone who has enough strength to hold back the rest of his or her court and let you find your way. Too often, it’s just seen as something a loyal flunkie can st
ep up to do to deliver the new tasty treat to their lord or lady. They don’t give a shit about making sure you’re safe or orientating you into this new world.”
“That’s what happened to you,” I said, seeing something else in his eyes.
“That’s what happened to me. I can’t hold off the Rutherglen or anyone else who’d want you, Kira. I’m skilled, I’m competent, I’m useful, but I’m not strong in the way they are, in the way I think you are. Think about that when they ask for your decision. Now, this…” He unscrewed the lid of the little bottle of perfume, a waft of it coming out.
“Whoa! What the hell…?”
Aen’s head jerked up, his nose working as he took in the scent, his slit pupils expanding.
It was the smell of honey and spices and night-blooming flowers, the feel of dark rum on your tongue, and the sweet musk of boys right before a shower. I wanted to lick it, rub it all over myself, or better yet, have Marlow do it while Johnno loomed over him, a hand on his shoulder.
Wait, what?
“It…” Marlow breathed out through his mouth, so as to prevent himself from inhaling it. “The Rutherglen will fucking kill me when he finds out I took this, but it’s very special. It’s distilled from—”
“That’s Hellas cat musk,” Aen said dreamily. “Though how the fuck you got your hands on that, I have no idea.” He rolled onto his back, purring loudly as he rubbed his head against the armchair. “Mildly euphoric in the wearer and anyone who smells it, but—”
“But it’ll make clear who’s actually into you or not. The games, the bullshit, there’s nothing like it when new meat comes on the scene. This’ll give you some insight at least.”
He pressed the stopper against each of my pulse points, and it all flared to life.
If I thought I was turned on before, I had no fucking idea. My thighs spread wide, and my hips bucked up as he stepped free of me, capping the bottle and tucking it away. My clit felt like it was growing to three times its size. Is this what guys feel like? I wondered dully. Slick dripped into my knickers, something that should have horrified me, but I didn’t have time to focus on that. My nipples tightened almost painfully, and a velvety warmth flushed through my whole body.
