A Lion’s Mate by Eve Langlais
Chapter Four
Zach joined her, and apparently, expected to share. She didn’t want to share. The first thing she grabbed and stuffed into her mouth because it smelled so good tasted even better. Salty. Crunchy.
French fry. Her mind supplied the name. The change in her environment was terrifyingly new and familiar all at once. The more she saw and experienced, the more it was as if her mind unlocked. Things started coming back to her.
Now, if only she could turn off her flight or hide instinct. It coiled inside her, twitching and restless. She was inside a secured space; she shouldn’t be so jumpy. Yet she kept diving for cover.
It made Zach so mad. Which was part of the reason she kept those crunchy sticks of goodness away from him. She really wanted them all for herself. They were delicious.
She slapped his hand when he went to grab one. When she wouldn’t share, he arched a brow and lifted a metal bowl to reveal a—a—her mind stuttered before blurting—burger!
She dove for it, just as he did. She managed to only tear off a piece before he brought it to his mouth.
He took a bite and chewed with extreme relish.
She might have drooled.
He didn’t take any pity or share.
She frowned at him and went after more of the dishes. She found a steaming bowl of something that had her gulping and slurping as she tilted it into her mouth, missed it because she leaned it too hard and it slid down her face to drip into her lap.
Only as she finished did she see him staring at her. She wiped her mouth.
He cringed.
She noticed that he wasn’t wearing any of his food. He also wiped every so often with the white fabric square he kept in his lap.
Even odder, he ate…slowly. Rather than quickly gulping, he took his time chewing. And chewing. He used his fingers for some of the food, and chose a pronged metal thing for others. As for the liquid in the bowl, he used a rounded thing with a handle. It was curved and held the soup as he lifted it to his mouth and ate it in small sips.
Seemed impractical to her. She lifted the bowl and drained some more. But this time, she didn’t let it spill down the sides of her mouth.
When she set it down again, there was no more food, and her tummy started to protest. Not out of hunger, more just plain sensory delight. She ate fish mostly. Red meat depending on what she could hunt. And it was all raw. This, she knew to be cooked. It added a crunchy and tasty aspect to it.
Cooking, a term that conjured up so many images. Cakes. Cookies. Steak. Roast. A torrent of menu choices flooded her brain.
She began to name off what they’d eaten. “Burger. Fries. Soup. Toast.” She grabbed a little plastic square and crunched into it, releasing something salty, delicious and creamy. “Peanut butter!” Ambrosia, which she sucked out of the container before going for the next one. Which was jam. She blended the last two and was just finished licking them clean when Zach rose from his chair and headed for the door. She clutched the armrest as he answered and brought in another tray. Her expression brightened.
“More.”
This time as he revealed the plates and bowls, he named the foods for her. She recognized pizza and wings. He also had a bowl of green stuff smeared with white cream and crunchy bits.
She enjoyed everything but the leaf. She spat it out. “Ugh.”
“It’s lettuce.”
“Don’t like.” She reached for more meat.
“Fair enough.”
She understood him and froze. Chewed slowly.
He kept talking. “I don’t usually eat like this. I’m more of a protein shake, low-carb kind of guy unless I’ve gone furry. Then I need to eat. Lots.”
“Eat.” She nodded in agreement. She’d hunted every day, making sure she always had some backup in case she got hungry.
“You need a name.”
“Fluffy.” Which made her happy. It was a nice word. She knew it. Wanted to hug it.
“No, we can’t call you Fluffy. It’s demeaning. You must have a name. Jane?”
Her nose wrinkled. That word did not make her happy.
“Sarah? Melanie? Joleene? Betty? Abigail?” He kept naming, and she kept shaking her head.
Finally, she blurted, “Fluffy.” Smiled for emphasis.
He sighed. He did that quite a bit.
“Fine. Fluffy for now. But if you change your mind…”
The last of the food gone, he pointed to her. “Let me see your wound. I should have checked it before we ate.”
She glanced down. “Boo-boo gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
She lifted her shirt and showed him how it had begun closing once they got the object out.
“You’re healing nicely. Good.”
“Good.” She agreed. She wasn’t happy about being injured. Those bad men had come to her cave and shot off many noisy things.
“You understand me a bit, don’t you?”
She rolled her shoulders.
“Do you know about the box and the key?”
Yeah, she knew. She flattened her lips. “Missing.”
“Yes, missing.”
She’d had one job. She failed. She’d let the box be stolen. “I find.”
“You can find?” He tilted his head.
She nodded. Yes, she could locate it. Even now, she felt it tugging at her. Demanding that she protect it.
“Where is it?” he asked.
She stood and twirled until her hand pointed.
“I am not following your pointed finger.”
She frowned at him. “Find.” Did he not grasp that they only had to go in that direction?
“I need an address, Fluffy. A city name, at the very least.”
She didn’t understand.
There he went, making that huffing sound again.
He pointed. “Bed. Time for sleep.”
Sleep? But she was too excited. Too…everything. “No.”
He pursed his lips as if readying to rebuke, and then his expression brightened as if recalling something.
“Do you need to uh, potty?” His gaze dropped to the floor.
Potty? Did he mean squat?
As a matter of fact, she did. She dropped to her haunches, and he yelled, “No.”
She held it and eyed him.
“If you gotta potty, use the bathroom.” He gestured. Curious, she followed him into a strange, tiny room with a white rock basin filled with water, a stone with strong smells coming from the tiny bottles lined up beside it.
He gestured. “Toilet. Do your potty there.” He left and closed the door.
She almost panicked in the tiny space. Grabbed the handle on the door, ready to wrench it open. But then Zach would be upset. Just as he was upset that she’d almost urinated. She didn’t understand why. He was the one who asked.
She eyed the depression filled with water.
Toilet.
For some reason, she thought it was meant for sitting to shed bodily waste. Crazy. If she sat, she couldn’t see anything coming at her. There were things with sharp teeth in the water.
She squatted over the hole and did her business. Then wished she’d used it to wash herself first.
She sniffed. Her odor would scare her prey away.
“You done?” Zach called from the other side of the door.
Another word she knew. “Done.” He came in, saw the yellow water, and then pointed. “Flush.”
“Flush.”
“Like this,” he said as he tugged a lever on the toilet. A loud noise erupted, and her urine disappeared.
Even more amazing, the toilet filled with fresh water.
“Clean.” She dove for it, about to splash her face when he grabbed her wrists.
“No toilet water. You wash your hands in the sink.” He showed her how to fill the stone basin and empty it. Handed her a small, strange square of fur. A washcloth he called it.
He held one of his own and, after wetting it, laved it over his face.
She did the same and felt it refreshing her skin. Scrub, rinse. She did her face and legs. Then pulled off the fabric that kept her warm so she could wash the rest of her.
He stared.
It did things to her body. Especially her nipples and between her legs.
She smiled at him. She knew what this feeling was. The rutting need.
She dropped the cloth.
He kept his gaze on her face. “Keep in mind, nudity is only when you have a place to be private. Those outside this room might not react well if you took off all your clothes.”
She understood and didn’t. “Body.” She glanced at her frame, saw the blood still staining her side, and scrubbed at it.
He stilled her hands. Pulled them away from the pink, puckered skin.
“Holy shit. That healed fast.”
She always did unless something was left behind in an attack.
“Let’s put you in a T-shirt for bed.” He left, and she followed, accepting the fabric he offered, which when on, hung down part of her thigh. It left her legs bare, but it was comfortable. Smelled of him.
“Bedtime,” he said, indicating her bed.
It sat at an angle, but she climbed on top, appreciating the softness.
Once more, he uttered a sigh. “Most people use a blanket.” He draped fabric over her.
It layered her nicely. She’d not been this warm and dry in forever. The vents in the cave were a wet heat that left shivers and a clammy feeling.
“Fair warning, it’s going to get dark, I’m going to turn off the light.”
“M’kay.” The word spilled from her as she snuggled into the pillow.
Even with her eyes closed, she noticed the lack of illumination. She didn’t flinch.
“Zach?” she murmured his name.
“What is it, Fluffs?”
“Good night.” The words came to her lips, and there was a pause before he replied.
“Night. Sleep well.”
She did, soundly and comfortably. Was in the midst of a dream of a land made of French fries when her rest was rudely interrupted.
