I was startled and then amused. “Ewww. It would be like sleeping with my brother.”
Eli burst out laughing, looked back over his shoulder, and teased, “So let’s get it on, baby.”
I shook my head. “Idiot.”
“Bitch.”
“Wrong species.”
We were still laughing when we reached the room over the three-car garage and I stood in the doorway, taking in the gym. “Swuuueeet.” It had everything: free weights, a ballet barre, a total-workout machine that targeted different muscle groups, ski machine, stationary bikes, two treadmills, a hot tub in the corner, a large open space with thick rubberized flooring suitable for yoga or sparring, and a shower and dressing area. I pulled off my boots, tossed them in the corner, and removed my weapons. In the opposite corner, Eli was doing the same, our reflections casting back to us from a wall of mirrors.
“When we last sparred, how much were you holding back?” he asked.
“You walked out of there.” When he looked confused, I added, “I left your joints intact, didn’t break your spine, and didn’t hit you in the xiphoid process, piercing your diaphragm or liver. For starters.”
Eli nodded. “Let’s keep the same rules, then. You hold back. I’ll try to kill you with my bare hands.” I was still laughing when he attacked.
Beast slammed to the surface and spun me to the side, my left hand sweeping into a claw that had to hurt as my nails grazed his ribs through his shirt. He retaliated with a leg sweep and a series of fast punches, all below the belt, followed by a chest strike intended to bruise a breast. Two of the punches and the chest blow landed. I oofed out a pained breath and hit in him square in the jaw, twisting into the motion with all my new, more muscular body weight. A lesser man would have been lights-out. Even Eli might have hit the floor, except that he landed on a weight bench and rolled over it, giving him the seconds needed to shake his head and come back at me.
“Your eyes are doing a funky gold-glow thing,” he said, trying to distract me as he did a punch-kick-sweep-of-legs combo I hadn’t seen before.
I dodged, blocked, and leaped over the leg sweep. “My Beast likes this,” I said, hearing the lower, coarser grate of my voice, a Beast growl.
“Yeah? Screw your Beast.” He caught my hand and flipped me in some kind of throw I’d never seen before, and didn’t really see this time. I went flying. I landed on my back, hard. The breath whoofed out of me and I didn’t get back up. I lay flat, blinking up at the fluorescent lights swirling overhead. When Eli interposed his head between the ceiling and me, he was upside down and at an angle. I closed my eyes and waited for the ability to inhale. It was a long time coming, and when my lungs did finally expand, I thought I’d maybe broken something, it hurt so bad. It sounded horrible too.
Beast receded with a soft purr. She’d had fun and was now leaving me with the pain.
“What was that?” I said. Actually I whispered it, so I cleared my voice, took two slow sets of breaths, and tried again. “What was that?” It came out slightly better, but not by much.
“That was your tax dollars at work—MAC, better known as Modern Army Combatives.”
“That was cool. Teach me. You know. When I can stand again. Breathe again without pain.”
Eli lowered his hand and pulled me to my feet. He still had my hand when the gym door opened and Rick LaFleur stepped inside, his eyes glowing that green glow of his black panther. He gave a low growl, and before I could disengage my hand, he leaped. Landed on Eli.
The Ranger rolled with the impact, my hand jerking free. And suddenly the two men were yards apart, a spitting mad, neon green ball of fur and claws on Rick’s throat. The smell of blood filled the air, blood not quite human, not quite were.
Rick screamed, a coarse, barking shriek of pain, all cat. The grindylow leaped away and landed on the nearest weight bench, her fur standing out all over, as if static electricity had filled her coat. Her jump left the raw, scored, bloody mess of Rick’s throat visible.
He managed a wet-sounding breath, his hands reaching for his wound as his eyes blurred back to black. He was bleeding, but not the pumping of carotid blood, which would likely have been fatal because he couldn’t shift. This time, he’d live.
Shock washed through me, an adrenaline wave that rocked against my nerves and rolled away. The attacks had both taken maybe three seconds.
“You idiot,” I said to Rick, bending over Eli to see if the were-cat had punctured his flesh anywhere. “Did the idiot bite or claw you?” I asked the Ranger.
Eli rolled slowly to his feet, inspecting himself in the mirrors without taking his eyes from Rick. “No. I’m okay.”
The juvenile grindy chittered and mewled and spat strange sounds at Rick, and we didn’t have to speak Grindylowish to know she was giving her partner a tongue lashing. It was her ordained purpose in life to prevent him from spreading the were taint. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know,” Rick whispered to the grindy. I watched as the bleeding slowed to a stop and the flesh of his throat seemed to grow back together. “It’s close to the full moon, Pea. My cat got away, and I left my music in the room. It was stupid.” To me he said, “Sorry, Jane. My cat seems to think we’re mated. He didn’t like the way Eli was touching you.” To Eli, he said, “Sorry, man. Really sorry. It won’t happen again.” Rick turned and left the gym, and I stood there, still hearing the words, My cat seems to think we’re mated.
I took a breath and smelled the scent of big-cat and blood. Beast rose in me, fast. I opened my mouth and scented the air across my tongue with a soft screeee of sound. Because even bleeding and shamed, Rick was still the prettiest man I had ever seen. We had been at odds for so long, yet at least part of him still wanted me. I blew out the breath.
In the mirror, Eli shook his head. “You two have the strangest mating rituals I’ve ever seen.”
I ignored that. “I feel all better now,” I said. “Thanks for the dance.”
Eli snorted and led the way back outside and down the stairs. “Dance. Only woman I know who thinks combat is dancing.”
I kicked him in the butt and looked at him from the side. “If you dance with me, you take your life in your hands.”
“God, woman. I didn’t know you could flirt.”
“I can’t.”
“You might wanna rethink that.” Eli almost looked like he was blushing, which was ridiculous.
But ridiculous or not, I did rethink it and decided he was being stupid or making a joke I couldn’t follow. “I have a thought,” I said. “It’s convoluted, but hear me out. I think if we concentrate our research on the vamps who disappeared the witches we might find Misha. If she stumbled into the Naturaleza as part of her research, and the Naturaleza are the ones holding the witches, then she became a part of the food chain for them and she’d end up close by in a closet or the attic or—”
“Buried out back.”
I stopped on the last step and grabbed Ranger Boy by the neck, digging in my fingers. “She is not dead.” I shook him. “You hear me?”
“I hear you.” He swept his arm up and around, knocking my grip loose. “Do that again and I’ll hurt you for real.”
“You got the drop on me once. Don’t think it’ll happen again.”
“You gonna put on your big-girl panties and fight with the boys, now?” He looked over his shoulder as if he expected me to blush or something.
“Who says I wear panties?”
I was certain that he flushed red this time. Laughing, I left him shaking his head and went on inside to find the Kid. We had work to do.
• • •
Charly looked even paler when I checked on her, and Beast pressed down on my brain, holding me still, looking the child over, scenting her illness. Sick kit. Smells like death soon to come. Protect from predators. Needs milk and mother’s body heat. Warmth of den and litter mates.