Feral Magic (4 page)

She'd let him in without much thought.  Was she still so careless of herself after all her loss?  Something to reconsider.  But she'd always been a sucker for cats.

*~*~*

Dak followed the woman through the house – a tiny place for a klatch, but the smells of the building told him that only she and the cats lived here – large for one person, and why did she live alone?  That, of course, was a cultural question that he could not guess the answer to, and could not ask, in case he offended her.

She was exotically beautiful, with pale skin and hair the color of his favorite golden honey.  Her eyes matched the sky outside in blueness.  He inhaled her scent of sweet woman and honey.  His mouth watered as he yearned to taste her and find out what unique spices might coat his tongue.

Each step taxed his body.  All the portal hopping, the bad wounds from one of those horrible metal vehicles, the healing and little sleep and no food – not to mention the worry about Favel – combined to make him as weary as if he'd fought duels all day in the sand arena.

Yes, all of his body was weary.  Except his heavy sex that sent licks of potent desire through the rest of him.  As he climbed the short stairs he had to suppress his lusty reaction...or at least mask it from her sight with a little illusion spell around his erection.  Something he hadn't had to do in ages, which was disconcerting and irritating...yet still pleasurable.

But it seemed as if she was interested in him; her breathing had quickened, her skin turned rosy with blood flow.  She stole peeks at his body – which clued him in that sexual mores in this culture weren't as open as his own.

She went into a bedroom with newly ruined curtains at the window and Dak winced. He could guess how that had happened.  The bed was nice and big, so he'd be able to stretch out.  Excellent.

He dropped his pack and fell less than gracefully on the bed, holding Favel carefully.  The mattress rose and plunged beneath him!  A hiss broke from his lips.  Favel chortled, wiggled from Dak's grip and crawled over him, trying to bounce
on
him.

Female laughter-coughing.  "Water bed," she said.

He moved a little, but it was hard: he'd settled in a trough.  "
Water?  Truly?
" he muttered.

"Yes."

Sniffing, he didn't smell any such thing, though the strange and unpleasant odor from the envelope holding the water came to his nose – along with sweet woman, a tinge of her sweat, and Favel smells.  The cloth under him was very soft, nice to rub against.

Favel agreed; he crept over Dak, testing his skin with his claws.  The babe rolled around, then settled in next to him, cooing and drooling on Dak's arm.

"I'll be downstairs," the female said.

He would rather have had Favel close by in a pen and the woman in the bed with him, even just to sleep.  But he couldn't just keep calling her "the woman."

"Name?" he grunted.

She straightened to her full height, still a lot shorter than he.  "Brandy Svensson."

He tensed.  Lifted his head to scan her.  "The enemy white tiger klatch also has names beginning with that sound."  Loathsome sound.  A reminder of Bretine, of her uncle who had killed his mother and who Dak had vanquished.  The sound of the name of Bretine’s brother who'd killed Dak's brother and sister-in-law, the chief and chieftess.  The white tiger who’d murdered Favel's parents.

Brandy
sniffed loudly, said in a cool tone, "Well, I'm sorry for that.  My name is Brandy.  You may call me Ms. Svensson.  'Ms.' is a courtesy title."

"What is your noble status?" he asked.

Her body stiffened even more, pretty blue eyes narrowing.  "I have no noble status.  I am a commoner.  No one in this country has noble status."  She paused, hissed out a breath.  "Though we have leaders, of course, whom we choose en masse.  And, as in all times and places, wealth will buy you nearly anything."

Using his tired abdominal muscles, Dak sat up.  Little Favel grumbled in his sleep and rolled behind him.  Dak snagged him and put the baby against his thigh.  "I am Dak of the Dark Panther Klatch.  Recently I was regent."

"Regent, huh.  Big deal," she said, sounding sincere.

Dak rubbed the baby's stomach and he purred.  "This is Favel, the child of my late brother and his wife.  Favel is the Chief of the Klatch."

A caught breath from the woman.  She took a step back, frowning.  "Like the king?"

"Yes."

Her expression set in determination.  "Then we need to get him back home."

"Yes, he and I must return," Dak said.  "As soon as possible."  Before Bretine found them.  Before the portal moved.

She nodded.  "I'll leave you to sleep, then."  Once more she paused.  "I don't have much meat, but you may eat all that I have.  Then we'll talk about how much I should order in.  No offense, but I do not trust you in my home alone, yet."

"Three hours sleep should refresh me sufficiently," he said, fairly sure that he'd correctly calculated the time increments he'd picked up from the beings around him.

"Fine."  She turned, scooped up the slinking black cat by the stomach and rump, and closed the door.

Dak subsided back onto the flowy bed.  He thought he liked the sensation.  Relaxing, he listened to her footsteps as she went down the stairs...and to her voice talking to the small cat.  "What is the matter with you?”  Her tone scolded the feline.  “Can't you see he could take you out with one swipe of his paw...or one blow of his fist?  And he's fast.  Leave him and the baby be."

Growls, general telepathic protest Dak couldn't tune into because it was private between the cat and the woman.

Everything he'd observed about the woman indicated she'd protect him – at least for the next three hours as he slept.  Odd thought matched by an odd, warm feeling.  He hadn't had a female stand to protect him, stand at his back for...years.

And this one wasn't even a trained warrior – that had been easy to see.  Nor had he noticed any weapons in her house; the closest that she had were her cooking knives and those appeared dull.

Not much choice but to let himself sink deep into sleep, to heal the last of his wounds, to refresh him for any battle that might come.  He supposed he'd have to tell the woman about Bretine.

Tell
Brandy
of
Bretine.

A pity such a beautiful woman had an ugly name.

With the last of his strength, knowing the effort would make him pass out, he drew upon the scratchy and irritating power of the sun to place a large magical boundary around the house that would alert him to danger.

*~*~*

Deciding not to wait to talk to Dak about his – and little Favel's – food needs, Brandy found a grocery who'd deliver and ordered pounds of meat: hamburger, whole turkeys, lots of sausage – that she didn't like – and a couple of hams.  She wasn’t sure about shapeshifters, but jaguars only ate meat.  She muttered something to the store about a relative's birthday, suppressed a gasp at the price, and confirmed she'd be around for a couple of hours to accept the delivery.

After that she opened the back door for Gypsy to stand and stare out at the summer day, then watched him saunter out, tail flicking with irritation that interlopers to
his
house remained.  Tom-Tom was already out and sulking in his dirt wallow.

Then she couldn't resist temptation…or maybe she just wanted to confirm with her own eyes, while the shapeshifter wasn't awake to distract her, that she had such a unique person in her house.  In her bed.

So she went back upstairs and peeked into the bedroom.  The baby opened his eyes, but continued to suck on his fist – and, hell, if they were going anywhere with Favel, like
driving
anywhere – she'd need baby outfits.  There must be a discount store that delivered things like that, too.  Car seat, diapers, wipes for his human behind,
stuff.

Favel gurgled, took his hand out of his mouth and gave her a drooling grin.  She found herself sighing, walking into the room and settling back in her rocking chair.  After all, Dak wasn't used to sleeping on a water bed, especially with something as small and fragile as a baby.  Though she wasn't quite sure how fragile Favel actually was.

The baby seemed happy, so Brandy turned her attention to the man.

She stared at his naked body sprawled face down across her bed.  He appeared completely out.  As handsome and buff as Ross, but with that different build.  Broad shoulders, lean hips and a truly world-class butt.  She was a connoisseur of butts and his was the second…yes,
second
...best she'd ever seen naked in real life.

Dak, former regent of the Dark Panther Klatch.  From.  Another.  Dimension.

That concept still plodded around in her mind as she grappled with it.

Then the baby wriggled.  Leaning against the man, Favel bounced up and down on the bed, crawled over Dak as if he was a well-loved play area – and a sneaking temptation to play some adult games with the man lured her.

The baby appeared to have slept as much as he needed...was revved and with an abundance of energy that would wear her out in two minutes.  She'd stay in the bedroom for a while, didn't want to contemplate what might happen if Dak woke up and his nephew wasn't near.  More than ruined curtains, she figured.

Kneading the broad back with his little fingers, probably marking the man with his scent, Favel burbled broken English in Brandy's mind. 
Dak, Dak, Dak.  Mine, mine, mine.  My Dak.  Mine, mine, mine.

Yep, all those "mines" were definitely feline.  And how could the baby speak English?  Some sort of translation switch in those jaguar people heads?

More likely a spell.  Science wouldn't accommodate people turning into animals.  Magic would.  Brandy hadn't really believed in magic.  Before.

Favel gave a final jump onto the man, who hadn't even twitched, and crept fast to the edge of the bed.  He slipped down to crawl to Brandy with such grace and speed that she wondered just how badly he would have been hurt if he'd landed on the concrete patio.

Worse in baby form than cub, she reckoned.  She stopped rocking when he neared and pulled himself on her chair, then climbed up into her lap and thumped back and forth on her with a force that nearly took her breath.  She got the idea.  He wanted to rock.  So she did, and gazed at the man – paused when she noted that the scratches Favel had made on Dak's back with his teensy fingernails had already faded from a slight red to unblemished skin.

Which meant the wounds she'd seen on the man earlier were very recent.

What had happened?

*~*~*

Several hours later she heard the story as Dak shoveled barely cooked hamburger into his mouth and she stuck with a frozen diet noodle casserole dinner.  At least he wasn't eating with his fingers.  She'd demonstrated utensils and he'd picked those right up, as if he'd used such items – various kinds of items – in a slew of diverse places. 

Favel was close and Dak took care of feeding the baby, which included raw meat and biting finger games.  Not for her.  The man would have to handle mealtimes with Favel.  Which he seemed happy and capable of doing, although he didn't like diapers.  Apparently Dak’s people kept their infants in pens hooked up to their sewage system.  Brandy didn't really try to visualize that.

Dak himself wore rich-looking leathers – tight top molded into fancy armor-like protection, narrow legged pants, and sturdy boots, all of black that complemented his skin.  He’d hung something like a black trench on her coat tree.

They'd just finished eating and Brandy had loaded the dishwasher and set it running when the delivery man arrived with baby stuff.

Dak stood close as the man unloaded the boxes on the front porch.  When he was gone, Dak lifted the car seat, frowning.  "What is this?"

"You want to go immediately to where your...uh...dimensional portal is, right?"

The idea caused a little twinge in her heart.  She really liked the looks of the big guy and she enjoyed the male energy in the house.  Little Favel had wormed his way into her affections already.  Stupid that she'd miss both of them after such a short period of time.

"Yes, we must find the portal as soon as possible.  Favel being missing is a disaster for my klatch."  The man's eyes went wide and face impassive, but Brandy
felt
the grief emanating from him.  "Both friends and enemies will believe I killed my beloved Favel, the last flesh and blood of my brother."

The same baby cradled against Dak's chest and sucking on Dak's fingers.

Dak's stillness made Brandy speak.  "That's bad."

He inclined his head.  "I will be considered a murderer and my family tainted for birthing me and allowing me to prosper."

There were several things wrong with the background of that sentence, but Brandy just said, "Also really bad."  She got the idea.  Culturally strange to her, but awful consequences nonetheless.  "All that?"

"Yesss." He hissed the word, obviously upset.  We must return quickly."  He glanced at her and she saw him scan her – her breasts, her throat, her face – before meeting her eyes and she thought he'd have been open to some recreational sex.

She busied herself with lifting a huge box of diapers and hauling it into the living room.  Dak put his nephew on the couch and said, "Stay."

The baby smiled, and crawled back and forth, but remained.

Dak studied the pictures on the box with a frown.  "I don't like those nethers cloths."

"They're the best," she said with heat, then decided it wasn't important.  "Looks like I ordered too many."

Dak shrugged.  "You could not know we would leave so soon."

"No."

She'd gotten a playpen, too.  Dak picked up the box, shook his head.  "The top is open."

"Yes.  It's for
humans.
"  She didn't know if it was sturdy enough that the kid couldn't rip through it, though.  "I was going to order animal stuff today, but not if you're leaving."

"You have a floating dimensional portal."

Brandy blinked.  "I do?"

"Earth does," he amended.  One side of his mouth had kicked up.