He was right in my personal space again, his scent sweeping over me. “I don’t think I’ll do it anytime soon.” I lifted my hands and showed him the healed skin. “Besides, it’s too much trouble. No offense to my kin, but I’ve learned how to live without it.”
“Oh.” Bran moved even closer to me, his eyes meeting mine. “I mean, I was sort of hoping to see what it’s like at night.” One hand flopped between us. “That is, when it’s cold. And I need to stay warm.” A sigh escaped his lips. “Am I making any sense here?”
“You’re okay with this?” I breathed in deeply, wallowing in his musky smell. “I thought…when you left…” Now it was my turn to flop around like a fish out of water.
Bran reached down and pushed the envelope across the desk. “Honestly, I was scared.” A sheepish look crossed his features. “I guess it’s a sort of fight or flight thing. I just wasn’t ready to see you…you know, like that.”
“Understandable,” I mumbled.
He moved his hand along the wooden desktop.
“There’s a reason why Felis stay with Felis.” The words felt stale.
His hand landed atop mine and squeezed it lightly. “I’m sorry about what I did. And I can’t say that I won’t be a bit surprised and off-kilter at times when you do things in your own…special way.” Dark, deep eyes met mine as he leaned in towards me. “But I can say that I’m willing to give this a try if you’ll let a mere human share your bed.”
I moved in for the kill and captured his lower lip with my teeth, nipping lightly, not enough to draw blood. “Yes. And yes.”
Bran drew back. “To what?”
“To everything.” I got up from behind the desk and walked around to face him. Wrapping my hands around his waist, I glanced toward the couch and Jazz, still on her back and watching us intently. “If you lock the door I’ll move the cat.”
He smiled broadly. “Deal. Just don’t scratch me up too much. I’ve got an image to maintain.”
I frowned. “What?”
Now it was his turn to smirk. “Got me a real freelance assignment. With the National Post. A respectable newspaper with a good reputation.” Bran nodded to my shocked expression. “Time for us all to start something new, eh?”
I grinned as I pulled him in again for another long kiss, releasing him in time to let out a growl loud enough to scare Jazz off of the couch. “I guess you can always teach an old cat new tricks.”
About the Author
Sheryl Nantus was born in Montreal, Canada, and grew up in Toronto, Canada. A rabid reader almost from birth, she attended Sheridan College in Oakville, graduating in 1984 with a diploma in media arts writing. She met Martin Nantus through the online fanfiction community in 1993 and moved to the United States in 2000 in order to marry.
She loves to play board games and write haiku, although not usually at the same time. In her past she was a Guardian Angel—no, not *that* type. She also spent over fifteen years in private security, working at hospitals and high-security sites.
A firm believer in the healing properties of peppermint and chai, she continues to search for the perfect cuppa.
She has published multiple books with Samhain Publishing. In 2011 she won two second-place Prism Awards from the Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal chapter of RWA. Blood of the Pride is her first book with Carina Press.
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ISBN: 978-1-4268-9319-3
Copyright © 2012 by Sheryl Nantus
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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