27. Tálstrom
Quin’s mate has been cautious in all her interactions with me, which is sensible. After all, I’m a strange and injured beast that could easily tear her to pieces should I so wish, but it’s not what I want at all. No, I want her trust and her friendship.
Today she’s accompanied by one of her brothers. They scent similarly, although her brother obviously holds a large cat inside him, whereas she smells only of humanity. Well, that, plus her mate and her cub.
They fool around with the water trough for a few minutes, emptying and refilling it with cool, clean water before turning to approach me. I do my utmost to put them at ease, displaying my own trust with slow blinks and moving to expose my belly. I wouldn’t say no to some scratches there, especially as I’m leery at using my own claws in case I tear the stitches out of my still-healing wounds.
They itch.
“Hey there, big guy. Are you a friendly kitty or are you trying to lure us in so you can crunch on our bones?” the brother asks, and I stare at him like he’s an idiot and huff out a breath. These are the times when I wish I could speak, but Simon is still tucked away, healing from the heavy blow that the devastation of our blood bonds has caused.
A small spark in the darkness where they reside catches my attention momentarily, and I stretch out further atop the platform as I examine the damaged and almost-lifeless bonds.
Except they’re not.
Huh.
A glimmer of light so faint you wouldn’t notice it unless you were searching slowly unfurls along one of the strands, filling and repairing it until it’s almost whole. I nuzzle along the thread, feeling the welcome thrum of a bird’s wing fluttering through, and smile at Nick’s relief. The heavy weight of loss and solitude that has been my burden since the destruction of the Vieux Sang facility finally lessens.
Whatever they pumped into Simon’s veins has had a very real effect on his blood bonds, but it doesn’t appear to be a permanent injury. Hopefully, in time, our other bonds will rally and grow strong once more, and Simon can finish his healing in his skin, rather than hidden away like he currently is.
Isobel, as I’ve learned is her name, comes to stand next to my head. I stretch out a little more, my muzzle reaching the prominent swell of her belly, breathing in her scent combined with that of Quin. She has a little tiger cub growing in her belly, and until he returns to take his place as her mate and father to their cub, I will happily play my part of protector.
I close my eyes and relax even further.
The matter is settled.
***
I don’t move much as Isobel and her brother comb over my body, examining the injuries I sustained in both my escape from Vieux Sang and the subsequent wounds inflicted upon me by other predators that thought my compromised state to mean I would be easily defeated.
They were wrong.
“You’re healing pretty quickly, and it looks like you’ve escaped more serious infection. You’re gonna be scarred up something fierce, but I’m sure a big lug like you won’t care about that, right? I mean, what’s that saying? ‘Chicks dig scars’? Any lioness worth her salt is gonna lap you up with the ones you’ll have, if that’s the case.”
I rumble happily at Isobel’s gentle rambling as she examines my hide, tilting my head up a little in invitation. She doesn’t let me down.
Small fingers tipped with blunted nails scratch at my chin, and I languidly flop a paw over her hand and rasp my tongue over her wrist, licking her with affection and gratitude. If she wants me to play the part of overgrown house cat, I’ll do it. My entire reason for being right now is her safety and happiness, and I can taste her surprise and joy wafting through the air at my actions.
“Come on, big guy. We need you to roll over so we can check your other side.” The masculine voice interrupts my chin-scratching session with a firm slap on my rump, and I grumble slightly as I move. My grumpiness swiftly dissipates once I’ve moved, however, as Isobel’s fingers weave their way through my mane, scratching at those hard-to-reach spots behind my ears.
Oh, yes. This is perfect.
My skin stings and pulls a little as Isobel’s brother removes some of the adhesive bandages, unfortunately taking some of my fur with it. But it cannot be helped, and right now, I don’t particularly care, either.
All too soon, they’re done with my check-up, with Isobel stroking her fingers down my nose as her brother firmly slaps my flank.
“You’re on the mend, big guy. We’re gonna keep you down here for a little while longer, just while we get one of the larger enclosures rigged up for you. Don’t want you escaping and running off only to end up as some hunter’s trophy rug, am I right?”
I yawn and blink before getting to my feet, headbutting the brother in the rear as I shove my way to Isobel. I chuff a laugh at the curses spewing from her brother’s mouth as I knock him over, before pushing my immense head over and around her torso. Not only am I scent marking her so that any other animal nearby can know that she’s under my protection, but I’m using the opportunity to get close to her cub. It needs to know my scent, my touch, and my sounds. It needs to know that, until its father returns, I will be there to protect and guide it, on both two feet and four.
“Okay, okay. That’s enough of that. I have other rounds I need to make, Dillon and Dane have supplies to collect, and I need to update Paw Paw with what’s going on. Don’t you dare pull a Deedee on me, though. I’m not your lady love, I can’t shift for one, and even if I could, it wouldn’t be into a lioness.”
I ignore the nonsense spilling from Isobel’s lips, letting out a mournful yowl as she and her brother leave my enclosure. I don’t want her to leave, but I understand she has other responsibilities to deal with. I’m simply one of them.
She’ll be back soon enough, and it won’t be long before I’m out of this isolation and can walk beside her. After all, none of them seem to realize I’m anything but an ordinary, if rather large, lion.