Bat and the Bone

by Alexa Gregory

  "No, I'm not actually here on business."

  "Oh?" One of her eyebrows rises with interest. "Social call? This better be about the date you promised."

  I take a few steps toward her, closing the distance between us. "I promised you a date?" I furrow my brow in mock concentration. "As I recall, you told me that if I were to ask you, you'd say yes."

  "Yup, then you asked. Remember? Two days is a hell of a long time to keep me waiting. Not even a call."

  Standing close to her, I place my hands on her hips, and her hands go up around my neck.

  "That's true. Especially since I've been dying to do this."

  I lean down and capture her mouth in a kiss. Her soft, full lips move against mine, a small moan escaping her as she melts into me. I dip my tongue into her mouth, running it along hers. Her fingers run up my neck, tangling into my hair as she angles herself for better access to my mouth.

  "I want to do things with you, Mila. But the setting is a bit disconcerting to me."

  "The things you say." Her mouth is upturned in a smirk. I kiss it. "So very romantic."

  "Yeah, I know." I give her a wink. "Let's get out of here."

  "I'm at work, T. I can't just leave." She lets go of me, but I reach out and keep one of her hands in mine.

  "Sure you can. You're not on the clock right now. Stop being a workaholic for a night and let me take you out properly."

  "Hmm. That's a nice suggestion." She closes her arms around my neck, rising up on the tips of her toes to be able to reach me. "I thought maybe we could stay in."

  "Really, now."

  Thank fuck. Though I do want to bring Mila out on a proper date, there are a bunch of very dirty things I've meant to do to her. With her.

  "Your place or mine?" Her whisper sends of awareness across my body.

  "Mine," I manage to say, because my house is about ten minutes from the academy. "But just so things are clear, Mila, this isn't just about sex for me. You're an amazing woman, and I'll take whatever time you give me. Tonight, we can stay in, but I want to take you out. Take you to the movies and hold your hand during the previews."

  "Why, Agent Thrussell, you're positively blushing. That's very sweet."

  "How long do you need to get out of here?"

  "Maybe thirty minutes?" she ventures. "I have to put the bones back in their crypts."

  "Okay, I can wait that long." Unable to stop myself, I kiss her again. "I'll order us some dinner. That way, at least I can still feel like a gentleman."

  Mila giggles and slides her magnifying glasses back onto her head.

  "If that makes you feel better, T."

  And it does.

  It's not like I have much experience in the hookup game. Oh, sure. I've had long-term girlfriends.

  But not one single ex even compares to Mila and the way she has my insides all knotted up.

  I all but skip to my car, feeling pretty good with myself for stopping by FUCNA to see Mila. She wasn't wrong that I should have called her earlier. But I'll make it up to her.

  All night.

  15

  Mila

  I won't say I drove like a bat out of hell to get to T-Bone's place, but I'd be lying.

  It took me way too long to put all of the bones away. It's not like it's a process that can be rushed. If it were any other man I was going to meet, I would have gone home to primp and change. But the truth is I don't feel like I have to do that with T-Bone.

  He's already seen me crying hysterically. In fact, I'm pretty sure he had some of my snot on his shirt, and he didn't even say anything. I have never met anyone as steadfast as him before. He's not just this brawny man, but he's also strong inside. He's got solid values, and I respect that.

  Maybe my outward appearance doesn't exactly scream I'm a conventional chick who wants the dude and the 2.5 kids and the nice house. But I do want those things. I just never really gave much thought to getting it.

  Who wants to tell a potential boyfriend that their mother is a notorious serial killer?

  Not me. It's attracted some weirdos in the past. T isn't like that. Hell, he already knows all about my mom, and he didn't go running for the hills when he found out.

  In fact, he ran straight for her and took a shot for me. That's the kind of man I want to have in my life. One who won't be scared away and chased off by the skeletons in my closet.

  I park my car in front of T-Bone's house, a quaint little white house on a quiet street. Somehow, it's exactly where I would have imagined T-Bone living. The lawn is perfectly cut, and the front door and garage are freshly painted. I'm having a vision of T cutting the grass, wearing his cargo pants with a pair of noise-canceling ear-protectors.

  I can't help but shake my head and giggle at the thought. He would protect his ears while operating machinery. He's cautious like that. I'm still smiling when I knock on the door.

  It doesn't take long for the door to swing open.

  "Hey." T-Bone greets me with a huge smile, his hair wet from a shower.

  Just seeing him makes my whole body zing with awareness.

  They say that couples who go on first dates with high adrenaline activities are bonded quicker and deeper than couples who just go to the movies. And honestly? I believe it.

  T-Bone and I might not have met because we were dating, but the twenty-four hours we spent together definitely bonded us to each other in a very deep, very real way.

  He stands there, in his entrance, a smile on his face as he gestures me into his home.

  He’s wearing his usual cargo pants and his classic black tee. Even though I hate those fucking pants, T-Bone looks so comfortable, so at ease, that I can't help myself. I launch myself at him, hands around his neck, mouth on his. Thankfully, T-Bone is fast and strong. He catches me and palms my ass, lifting me up into his arms.

  I kiss him, delving into his mouth with my tongue. I even nip on his lower lip.

  "Mila, if you keep kissing me like that, dinner will get cold."

  "I don't care," I whisper, running my lips along his scruffy cheeks. "Take me to the bedroom. We can eat after."

  "So long as you don't mind cold Chinese food."

  "Bedroom, T-Bone."

  "Yes, ma'am," he groans as I start to grind up against him.

  With impressive agility, T-Bone walks us up the stairs and down a hallway.

  The pale blue walls of his bedroom are comforting, and the soft gray comforter looks inviting. T-Bone lays me down gently on the bed, and before he can move away, I grab at the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head.

  I've only ever had sex with tall, lanky dudes. So my reaction when T pulls his shirt off his head is entirely pure and absolutely embarrassing.

  I moan.

  I moan because I have never wanted to lick an entire body from head to toe in my life. Every inch of T is gold skin and rippling muscles. The definition of his abs is insane, and they just keep testing the bounds of my wits by ending in a deep V leading down, dipping into the waistband of his cargo pants.

  I have never hated those fucking pants more than I do right now. Because they're keeping me away from something I definitely want. I tug at the button, the starchy material hindering my movements.

  "I want to burn your pants," I grunt in the least sexiest way possible, tugging at the plastic disk.

  "You don't have to burn them, Mila. Just got to get them off of me."

  He tugs my tee off and throws it to the ground.

  "I'm trying, but these things are an evil contraption."

  His entire body shakes with laughter as he swats my hands away. "I gotta say your impatience is about as sexy as your bra."

  I look down to the black lace and mentally high-five myself for having a pretty serious obsession with black lacy things.

  T-Bone cups my breasts and runs his thumbs across my nipples. I arch up, offering more of myself to him.

  Typically in bed, I am the leader. I have to take charge to make things good. Or at least mildly enjoyable. I
don't even have time to do that with T-Bone. He's large and definitely in charge.

  With a quick motion, he peels my pants off of me.

  "Fuck, Mila. Do you always wear lingerie at work?" He groans when he gets a good look at the panties that match my bra.

  "Life is too short to drape my naughty bits in ugly garments."

  "I agree with you," T growls. "You should always be wrapped in something this delicious looking."

  He leans down and places a kiss against my sex through the lace. The softness of his lips against the material has me arching off the bed. He drops another kiss before gently sliding them down my legs.

  "The only reason why I'm not tearing these off of you right now is because I definitely want to see you in these again."

  T pins my legs down onto the bed, an untamed look in his eyes. His pompadour hairstyle is sticking out every which way, only adding to the image of the lust-wild. His gaze locks on mine as he lowers his mouth. His tongue takes a long swipe up my slit, and I don't know what is sexier.

  The way he is looking at me or the way he is touching me.

  His next lick is slow, and he moves his tongue from side to side as he settles in on my clit. It's a teasing gesture designed to make me insane. He laps at me, twirling his tongue, suckling the hardened nub into his mouth like he knows exactly where to touch me, how to touch me.

  One of his thick fingers traces the edges of my entrance, and he slowly eases the digit in, quickly adding a second finger. T pumps in and out of me, his tongue never losing stride. Small little earthquakes of pleasure start quivering inside of me, and I pant desperately, shamelessly grinding my hips into his face, chasing my release.

  When the explosion happens, T-Bone doesn't stop. He continues licking me until I beg him to stop, my core fluttering continuously on powerful aftershocks.

  I lay in a pile of satiated goo for all of ten seconds. I pull T down for a kiss, letting my hands roam down to cup his cock. He helps me by kicking off his underwear and kneels between my legs.

  His erection is impressive, nothing short of a feast for my eyes.

  The smooth, silky skin seems to be aching, begging for a release of his own. I close my fingers around the girth and move my hand up in a few motions.

  "Shit," I groan, "do you have any condoms?"

  A huge grin breaks out on T-Bone's face.

  "I'm prepared for any eventuality."

  "Are you telling me that you have a condom in those atrocious pants of yours?"

  "Wallet, which is in my pants, so, yes."

  "I take back every bad thing I have ever said about your pants. Wear them all the time. They are my savior."

  T laughs and kisses me sweetly, a smile still playing on his lips. He grabs said condom from the now revered cargo pants. I watch in fascination as he rolls the condom onto his impressive erection. I can't help but lick my lips. He catches me taking him in, and he pumps his hand up the length, his eyes trained on me.

  "I want you so fucking much." He hums, kneeling between my legs again.

  He runs the tip of his cock along my slit, pulling a shiver of need out of me.

  "Mila." My name on his lips is a rumble of pure lust.

  "Yes," I say, somehow knowing he was asking for permission.

  He sinks into my core in one powerful thrust. He inches back out and moves back in slowly. T draws out every single movement, relishing every single moment. It's written in the fire in his eyes, in the kisses he peppers across my chest.

  I let my fingers rove over his muscular back. Every single ridge is a delicious exploration.

  I can't help myself. I let my teeth bite down on the corded muscles of his neck. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a mark. T roars above me.

  "Mila, fuck. You bit me."

  "I did," I purr, leaving tiny kisses over the skin.

  "You can do that any time you want." He moans, increasing his rhythm.

  I wouldn't need to be told twice. Smiling and feeling every little bit the vixen, I nibble on his tender flesh.

  "You feel so good, Mila. I just want to stay right here, doing this over and over again."

  "We're not even done yet." I moan, arching off the bed when T closes his lips around one of my nipples.

  "Don't think we'll ever be." He kisses his away across my chest and laves my other breast with tender attention.

  Arching my back, I push my hips off the bed, meeting T thrust for thrust. The tingles start deep inside of me, leaving me more breathless by the second.

  It feels so good. It feels so right.

  "Mila," he whispers against my neck, sweat beading on his forehead.

  I moan my answer, unable to formulate a single coherent thought as he keeps sinking into me over and over again. My fingers dig into his shoulders as my orgasm coils in my core. It starts as a gentle flutter of pure pleasure, builds into a small flame, and slowly it burns brighter, heating my skin with an intoxicating buzz.

  The flames grow hotter, and my walls clench around T's cock as I come and mewl his name.

  T follows closely, his grasp on my thighs tightening, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing some of his finesse. Above me, T closes his eyes, his shoulders strained as he loses himself to me. My name is on his lips as he roars his release. It's a beautiful, powerful sight to watch a man as formidable as T go over the edge of pleasure because of me.

  T collapses next to me, taking care not to crush me, which I appreciate. What I love even more is that he rolls me into his side, nonetheless. He kisses the top of my head softly, and I don't miss the way he inhales deeply. I do the same, committing every single touch and smell to memory.

  This wasn't just sex.

  This changed something between us, even if we've known each other only a short time. I hug him close, already knowing, deep inside of myself, that T-Bone is mine.

  "Well, that will work up an appetite," I tease.

  "I'll say," T says, his breathing still labored.

  Our first night together is spent making love and feeding each other cold sesame noodles and egg rolls. In the morning, when we finally get to sleep, T-Bone spoons my back to his front and murmurs in my ear, "Go steady with me."

  "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, T-Bone?"

  "Yeah," he answers, kissing my shoulder.

  "It's very innocent. I like it. It's very you."

  "Is that a yes, Mila?"

  I turn and kiss him until he knows my answer.

  16

  Mila

  It's weird being here. The white and gray walls are weathered by time and passing inmates. Really, the FUC prison isn't much different than any other prison. It's a line of jail cells with inmates in each. The difference is that the cells are fortified for shifters, and it's not always a human body that you'll see watching you through the bars.

  There are lions, tigers, bears. You name it, they can be found here.

  I make my way to the visitors' room. A metal table, on which a pair of shackles have been soldered, sits in the middle of the square space.

  My mother is sitting in her prison orange, hands cuffed to the table in front of her. It's not necessary, in my opinion. She had the chance to hurt me, and she didn't. But it's policy, so there is nothing I can do. It also helps to know that she is back on the anti-shifter serum. She can’t shift out of her shackles or fly out of here. This prison is where she is to stay.

  "Mila, you're back so soon to visit me."

  Her smile seems genuine, and she looks a lot better now that she's being treated for the Foamies and she's stopped experimenting on herself. She's pale, just like me, but at least her skin has lost the sickly purple tinge to it.

  Sitting there, she looks composed and sure of herself. This is the version of my mother I’ve always had to contend with when looking over her crimes. The side of her I couldn’t reconcile with the murderer. It’s hard to look at her right now and think that she has done such unspeakable things.

  I suppose the one small comf
ort I can have is that she has some lines she won’t cross. Sure, that line is only me, but that means more than I could ever say out loud.

  "Hey," I say, sitting in front of her.

  "Does this mean that you have my answer? Can I have access to a lab?" She blinks at me pleadingly, like it was all up to me. "I know I'm close to a breakthrough. I could feel it."

  "Do you really think that's a wise choice, Mom?"

  "But..." I shoot her a look, and she stops herself.

  “Let’s think back, shall we. You escaped with the man who was completely copycatting versions of your murders. Then you killed said accomplice.”

  “To save you,” she interjects as if that could ever be enough to make up for all the bad she has done.

  “There’s no way I can argue that for you. Not for a long while.” Not ever, but I don’t say that. I don’t really feel like getting into a fight about this particular topic.

  "So why are you here, then?"

  "I came to see how you were doing with the meds. It's just a nice visit, Mom."

  She laughs. It's a dry, humorless thing. "A nice visit. Mila, you shouldn't be here." She sighs heavily. "I should not have allowed you to study forensic anthropology. I should have..."

  "Wait, no. You didn't get a say in that choice. I had to do that. For me. So I could understand what became of my life when you were arrested. I would have gone down that path with or without your help. It sure made my master's thesis and my Ph.D. work more interesting."

  "I didn't know that's why you were asking me all of those questions, you know. I thought that you were just visiting me. I didn't even think that I was becoming your subject. And I..." She looks down and swallows hard. "I didn't think about my actions and how they would completely affect you. But now that I know that you built your entire life around what I did... I feel terrible."

  "You do realize that you should feel dreadful for all the people you killed, right? Not just for seriously messing up my life and Dad's life."

  "Well, that's a lot to ask of me, Mila. I can't spend too much time thinking about it. It would make me crazy. Can I just apologize to you and have that be enough?"