Chapter Six
ROUX
“You’re limping,” Gen said once we’d regrouped and headed back to the chateau.
I huffed. No, I wasn’t. I was conserving energy with my right rear leg. There was a difference, dammit.
I kept my eyes on the lights ahead and did my best to strut, not shuffle.
But naga wounds — even small ones — were a bitch.
I could feel icy venom trickling through my veins with every shaky beat of my heart.
Not enough to kill me, maybe, but enough to make my eyesight blur and throw off my balance.
If we didn’t get inside soon, I might be reduced to flopping over — or accepting help.
Which might just kill me, because tigers didn’t flop, and we certainly didn’t need help. Especially not from lions, vampires, or their boss’s kid sister, no matter how beguiling — er, exasperating — she might be.
“Any idea who they were?” Gen asked Henrik.
He and Bene had followed the intruders and seen them race off in a dark car parked behind the Citroen Gen and I had left at the side of the road.
That meant they hadn’t stumbled across us. We’d been followed.
“Stéphane, Nicolas, and a third naga I don’t know,” Henrik said, leading us inside like he owned the place.
I snorted. All vampires were snobs, but Henrik took the cake. Still, he’d made himself useful, and I couldn’t fault that.
I could, however, fault his track record.
For every time Henrik raced in to the rescue, there was another occasion when he let us down, big-time.
The man made wild card his modus operandi because it was useful.
He got the privileges of warm-blooded company, and every time we vowed to banish him, he would make himself indispensable.
Like now.
“Who the hell are Stéphane and Nicolas?” Gen demanded.
She and her sister might not have a lot in common, but they’d both gotten the bossy gene.
Henrik made a dismissive gesture. “A couple of young upstarts.”
I rolled my eyes. Anyone born after 1910 counted as young in Henrik’s book.
My joints creaked as much as the staircase. It didn’t creak under Henrik, though. Something I found creepy as hell, even after all these months working together.
“Either they’re fools, or they hired out to someone — again.” He sighed.
“Again?” Gen yelped.
At the top of the stairs, I intended to veer off for my room in the west wing. But I wasn’t sure I would make it, so I followed Gen into the drawing room instead.
She turned to me, then gasped. “Oh my gosh. You look terrible.”
I mustered the energy to glare at her, but she was right. I felt terrible.
“Shoo.” Henrik waved to me. “Go to your room and sleep it off, won’t you?”
I would if I could, dammit, but I was close to swaying.
“Sleep it off?” Gen admonished. “We have to check those wounds.”
Bene gave an exaggerated whimper and stuck out a paw.
“Bene’s too,” Gen added.
The lion hid a grin.
Henrik pointed. “He’ll drip blood on the parquet floor.”
Gen snorted. “That’s rich, coming from a vampire. If you’re so worried about it, get me that old blanket. Quickly.”
Henrik made a face. “Must I?”
“Yes, you must. Now, move it.”
The woman could issue orders better than some commanding officers I’d known. I pictured her backstage at a theater, marshaling extras and stage crew into position for a quick scene change.
She shoved the couch back, making space in front of the fireplace, then spread the blanket on the floor.
“Over here.” She patted the blanket.
I flicked my tail irritably. I was a tiger, not a puppy. But given the choice between keeling over on the bare floor and keeling over on a blanket, I did as I was told.
Bene tried to muscle his way in, but I shoved him aside and stretched out, claiming as much space as possible.
He whined and looked at Gen.
Most lions had a sense of pride — no pun intended — but not Bene. Not when he stood to gain female attention.
I snarled at the idea of Gen bent close, gently tending his wounds. If anyone would get gently tended to, it would be me, dammit!
“You have plenty of space,” Gen told him firmly.
Not fair, he grumbled in my mind.
I was the one actually putting myself on the line out there, I shot back.
Yes, you were. The question is why? he asked.
I’d been wondering the same thing. What had possessed me to go for a kill rather than simply chase the nagas out of our territory?
Bene tilted his head toward Gen, chuckling. Unless you were trying to impress her. Then he stopped. Wait. You were.
I was not. I was just, er…totally overreacting in the face of a threat to a woman I had absolutely no feelings for.
That was my story, and I was sticking to it.
Bene chuckled in a way that said, Well, well.
I flicked my tail, whipping him across the muzzle.
“Can you two behave for five minutes?” Gen complained.
“No, they can’t.” Henrik’s tone was as dry as the gin he poured for himself.
Gen hovered over me for a moment, clearly intimidated by my size, ferocity, and battle wounds.
Sure, Bene scoffed. Just don’t let her find out how tiny your brain — or other parts — are.
Overcoming her fear, Gen leaned over me, clucking in concern. “So much blood.”
“Yes, so much,” Henrik murmured dreamily.
I flashed him an inch of fang.
Gen didn’t notice, thank goodness. She did step away to check Bene, which annoyed the hell out of me — until she declared his wounds less serious and sent him off to shower.
Bene gazed at her with wide, imploring eyes that said, Shower? I could bleed to death in there.
“You’ll live,” she muttered.
I shot him a smug look, then eased painfully onto my side.
“Oh, you poor thing…” Gen murmured.
I flexed my claws. Tigers were neither poor nor things.
You fucking love it, Bene grumbled on his way out the door.
A little, yes.
Maybe I was getting old. Or maybe it was after all those years in the military, where no one fussed over anyone. Everyone cared, of course. It was just that you weren’t allowed to show it.
“I’ll be right back,” Gen said, heading out the door.
As if I were going anywhere.
“Oh, Henrik. Could you please make a fire?” she called from the threshold.
He held out his right arm, indicating a torn sleeve. “I’m injured too.”
“I’ll check you next. Now, make that fire. Please.”
Henrik huffed, clearly wishing for the good old days when a woman wouldn’t dare boss him around. He did as he was told, however.
Within minutes, my eyes drooped, and I listened to the soothing crackle of the fire. Meanwhile, my feline entertained foolish ideas that went way, way out on a thin limb in a strong breeze and swayed around dangerously.
Maybe Gen and I… the beast started.
I stifled the thought with a snarl that Henrik misinterpreted.
“Yes, I find her insufferable too.”
I frowned. Gen wasn’t insufferable. She was chatty, tempestuous, and impulsive. She had terrible taste in music. She ate in tiny, annoying bites and slurped her coffee — black with a splash of milk. But insufferable?
Less and less, recently. In fact, I missed working beside her. More than I liked to admit.
She bustled in with a steaming bowl of water, an old towel, and a first aid kit.
Henrik snorted. “Shifters heal on their own, you know.”
“They heal more quickly with help. And it’s less painful.”
God, I liked the sound of that. The gash on my left shoulder was killing me, and the slash across my nose stung. I licked it miserably.
I tensed as she brought the wet towel closer to the gash. She tensed too, and the brows over her blue eyes creased. Eyes as blue as an ocean, and just as deep.
She smoothed her hair back and chose a smaller scratch to start with.
And, oh. Gentle wasn’t the word for it. My eyes slid shut, and my tail softly tapped the floor.
Heavenly, my tiger murmured.
She tended my smaller wounds first, which took a while. Not that I was in a rush. In fact, I discovered a whole new upside to being injured. Her touch was gentle, and whenever she leaned in, silky hair tickled my body, carrying her floral scent with it.
Bene eventually waltzed back into the drawing room, freshly showered and in human form.
“I’m back,” he announced.
“Joy to the world,” Henrik muttered.
“Look. I have all these wounds.” Bene stuck his arm toward Gen.
She barely glanced over.
“They’re very painful,” he went on.
She rolled her eyes, then did a double take, because Bene had taken the opportunity to saunter over in a pair of low-slung sweatpants…and nothing else.
Gen’s eyes snagged on his abs and stayed there for a full five seconds.
Sneaky bastard, I rumbled into his mind.
Desperate times call for desperate measures, Henrik muttered dryly.
I snorted. Easy for him to say. He’d enjoyed the company of Delphine for a full week and moved right on to Claudette. A total shit move, but what could you expect from a vampire?
Luckily, he and Claudette seemed to have cooled it…for the time being. For her sake, I hoped that would last.
“Take a seat. You’re next.” Gen motioned Bene to a chair, focusing on my gash.
Bene made a drama out of lowering himself into the chair, wincing and groaning. Then he sat, rubbing his shoulder tenderly.
Gen shuffled around, turning her back to him.
Not sure the young lady is interested, Henrik snickered.
They’re always interested, Bene declared, extending a bare foot into her field of vision.
Gen inspected my wound then dabbed gently with the washcloth.
“What did they want?” she asked as she worked.
“You, clearly,” Henrik said much too casually.
Her throat bobbed. “Because…?”
Henrik shrugged irritably. “I don’t know.” Then he gestured to her with his gin. “My turn for a question. What did you do back there?” He swung the half-empty glass in the direction of the driveway. “In the pavilion, I mean.”
I flicked an ear, and Bene leaned closer.
“You mean, other than shitting my pants?” Gen grumbled.
Bene cackled. “Other than that.”
I winced as her dabbing grew more aggressive.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, backing away, then continuing more gently. “The chateau grounds are full of spelled corners.”
“Spelled, how?” Henrik asked.