Chapter Eighteen
Dorian
Our local county zoo is about a thirty-minute drive from campus, at the base of one of the largest canyons in the area.
This time of year, as staff prepare for the upcoming winter, it’s closed on weekdays.
Fortunately, the hefty donation I wired earlier makes the staff and owners reconsider my request for a private tour and private showing.
“I’ve never actually been here,” Mira says. “God, the leaves are so pretty. Do you have any Halloween plans?”
My lips tilt up at the corners as I regard her. She’s at least partially returned to what seems to be her usual self; switching tracks of conversation at nearly the speed of light.
“We usually host a party,” I say. “A costume party, obviously. Things can get pretty rowdy, though, and we have a lot going on this year, so I’m not sure if we will. Do you have any plans?”
She shrugs. “Last year, I went to a party with Cara—mainly to chaperone her and make sure whichever flavor of the night she picked was safe and sane. Valerie and I ended up in the corner of the room, talking about climate change.”
“So you didn’t go anywhere with a flavor of the night?” I query.
She shakes her head. “I’m not into one-night stands. I’m not really into sex; you already know this.”
Masculine pride warms my chest. “But you do like it with me.”
Her breath audibly hitches. She casts me a sidelong glance as I park the car. “I wouldn’t know. We haven’t had sex, and we’re not going to.”
How wrong she is. I smile faintly but don’t push. This little fieldtrip is for her enjoyment—no point in diluting it. I’ll get my enjoyment when she’s sobbing, begging me for mercy later tonight.
She doesn’t wait for me to open her car door, which makes me frown. We’ll have to work on that.
“Hold on, the sign says the zoo is only open Saturday and Sunday for the fall and winter season,” Mira says, frowning as we approach the entrance.
I curl an arm around her waist, enjoying the little shiver that courses through her. “I got us a special tour. Don’t worry, we won’t get in trouble.”
As expected, we’re greeted at the entrance by one of the staff members, an attentive young man who ushers us through the wrought-iron gates of the zoo. The intricate designs catch the glint of late fall sunlight.
We follow him into a labyrinth of stone paths, edged with frost-dusted bushes and carpeted with golden leaves that crunch underfoot.
We pass vacant animal enclosures where skeletal branches of barren trees rise like sculptures against the sky.
The air is crisp and chill, so most of the animals are probably sheltered indoors, though the distant call of a bird echoes faintly from somewhere in the grounds.
“I like how spacious everything is,” Mira says approvingly. “I’ve heard good things about this zoo. They only take in rescues, animals that would struggle to survive out in the wild. If they’re successful in their rehabilitation, they return their charges back to their natural habitats.”
“That’s right,” the staff member says, grinning at Mira.
His eyes linger on her a beat too long, and I draw her closer, giving him a warning glare that makes the man clear his throat and look away.
“We, uh, pride ourselves on both the living conditions we create for all of our rescues, and our dedication to rehabilitating them.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mira says, smiling happily. “What percentage of animals are rehabilitated and then released?”
“About fifteen percent,” the man—boy—responds.
“It’s a better turnaround rate than we expect; the ones we take in are usually in pretty rough shape.
We have an excellent veterinary department, with three vets and nearly a dozen assistants that work miracles.
You’ll actually get to meet Dr. Woods later today—”
“Careful not to ruin the surprise,” I warn him.
“Of course. We’re almost there, anyways.” The boy smiles at Mira again. “I’m Richard, by the way. I graduated Greywood last year. I’m interning here now, gaining some experience before applying to vet schools. I think I saw you around the animal sciences department a few times.”
Mira blinks. “Oh. Honestly, I don’t remember, but that’s really cool. I’m Mira, junior at Greywood. So you’re one of the assistants?”
The warmth in her tone and sparkle in her eyes as she watches Richard bothers me.
She should only look at me with those glittering eyes that shine with approval and interest. She should only talk to me in that smoky, beautiful voice that feels like a fist wrapped around my cock.
I can see the effect she’s having on this manchild—he keeps glancing at her like he can’t help himself.
I don’t blame him, but if he does anything beyond looking, he and I will have a not-so-pleasant conversation.
“Part-time assistant to the vets,” Richard says.
“Full time staff member.” He leads us up to a large stone building attached to the back of an outdoor enclosure that mimics dry, open-plane terrain.
“Here we are,” he says, opening a glass door for us—for Mira, really.
I release her so she can go in, then step into Richard's personal space, fixing him with a glare.
“She’s mine,” I say lowly, staring him right in the eye, letting him feel the warning as well as see it.
He swallows. “Got it. After you, uh—”
“Dorian,” I say. “Dorian Acheron.”
Recognition flashes in his gaze. Considering he went to Greywood, it’s no wonder that he’s heard of me, and the caution that quickly follows his recognition pleases me. I walk through the door, smiling at Mira, who’s reading a large plaque on the wall.
“So this is for the lions?” she asks.
Richard rushes in, closing the door behind him. “Yes, we have a nice indoor enclosure to keep them warm when the weather becomes too chilly. If you’ll follow me, you’re actually in for a real treat today, courtesy of your… boyfriend?”
“No,” Mira says, at the same time that I confirm, “Yes.”
“Um, okay,” Richard says. “Right this way, guys.” He leads us through three doorways, and into a sterile room with bright lights, wooden cubbies, and a metal sink with industrial-grade hand soap.
“You’ll need to take off anything that dangles or can easily be ripped off.
Sweaters, jackets, any jewelry. Then, please wash your hands, scrubbing hard for at least two minutes. ”
Mira turns to me with an excited smile. “I know that protocol. We’re going to see some baby animals, aren’t we?”
I bite my bottom lip, loving the way her eyes light up with pleasure and anticipation. “Get scrubbing and you’ll find out.”
Five minutes later, the attendant moves to stand in front of a wooden door on the far wall of the room.
“Okay. Inside, please do not interact with the animals unless they come to you. I will be there, as will two other very experienced handlers, so if you feel like the furry guys are getting too aggressive, let us know and we’ll safely escort you out. ”
“They’re lion cubs, aren’t they?” Mira questions, bouncing on her toes. “Do we get to feed them? How old are they?”
I stroke a hand up and down her back, enjoying her little shiver. “No more questions. Richy?" I say, looking to the boy.
“It’s Richard—never mind,” he cuts off, unlocking the door. “Step right in when I open this, please. One at a time.”
Mira doesn’t need to be told twice. Richard cracks the door open just far enough to allow a person through, and she slips into the room. I follow quickly, not wanting to miss even a second of her reaction.
Her hands are pressed to her chest, her eyes are lit up with adoration, and her gaze is trained on the nest of blankets at the far side of the room, where three little lion cubs are playing with each other.
Two handlers stand in the corner of the room, both women, and they smile at Mira and me, waving in greeting.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, clutching my arm. “They can’t be more than a few weeks old! How did you set this up?”
“I donated a significant sum of money and told the staff that my girlfriend is Greywood’s top animal science student, on her way to becoming a vet,” I respond.
Mira’s too delighted to dispute me calling her my girlfriend. She takes a step across the sand-dusted floor, looking like she wants to run up to the cubs and embrace them but knowing better.
Richard slips in after us, closing the door with a decisive click.
“Welcome,” one of the women says, stepping forward. “We heard you’re interested in playing with the cubs a bit today; we could use an extra set of hands feeding them.”
It appears to take Mira monumental effort not to squeal as the woman gestures to a small wooden table set with three milk-filled bottles.
The woman crosses the room, approaching Mira and me.
“I’m Sam, the head handler.” She and Mira exchange pleasant greetings, and Sam takes care to thank me for my donation.
After a minute of chit chat and asking Mira about her experience with animals, Sam briefs her on the correct way to approach the cubs and offer them milk.
I lean against the wall, watching as Mira picks up one of the milk bottles and kneels on the floor not far from the cubs, patiently waiting for them to come to her.
The largest male cub turns to face her, sniffing the air.
He slowly takes a step towards her, then another, padding his way over to her with a regal posture and inquisitive air.
The little creature seems to like either her scent or the scent of the bottle she holds, because he wastes no time standing on her lap and butting his head against her shoulder, releasing a yip that’s presumably a request to be fed.
Mira absolutely melts, eyes glittering and face warming even more.
Carefully, she offers the cub the bottle.
The little lion latches on quickly and easily, resting his front paws against Mira’s knees and nursing from the bottle she holds.
“Would you also like to join?” Sam asks me, her smile flirtatious and posture invitational.
“Sure,” I say casually, not smiling back.
I accept the bottle she hands me and walk up to Mira, pausing when the cub she’s feeding releases the bottle and shoots me a glare.
He growls at me while pawing at Mira’s leg, almost like he’s warning me away.
Not from his bottle, I don’t think, but from her.
Christ, my girl really is an animal whisperer—on steroids.
Mira gives a laugh of pure delight; Sam’s eyebrows raise with faint surprise.
“Looks like Hunk likes you,” Sam says, nodding at the cub, who licks Mira’s shoulder before once again latching onto the bottle. “He’s a fiery one.”
“Animals tend to feel comfortable around me,” Mira says brightly. “Which is good, because I adore them.”
I end up sitting cross-legged a solid seven feet away from Mira, and Sam takes a spot on the floor beside me.
The two other cubs make their way over to us.
I’m a lot less graceful than Mira and Sam, practically shoving the bottle’s nipple into my cub’s mouth.
The creature doesn’t seem to mind, even though the second female handler arches an eyebrow at me and reminds me to be gentle.
“What made you take interest in our zoo?” Sam asks, batting her eyelashes at me.
“My girlfriend,” I respond. “Mira.” I have no problem making it patently clear that Mira belongs to me. Soon enough, her rebellion will fade, and we can have more days like this. First, though, she needs to accept her place at my side.
Patience, I remind myself. I’m showing her the good before demonstrating the punishments she can earn. Fun first; punishment later.