On the Prowl (17 page)

“You did,” Corinne acknowledged with a nod, “and I was very proud of you. But I will just point out that there are points deducted for only doing it after I already had you on the phone and for letting me suggest the coffee shop.”

“Hey! I told you I hadn’t been in the city for very long. I couldn’t think of anyplace.”

Corinne hummed noncommittally. “Then there’s the matter of our conversation over coffee. I’m the one who got it rolling and set it on a personal level, allowing you to treat me like a friend and confide in me the way you were dying to do. And I’m the one who came right out and declared us to be friends. I’m afraid the evidence is stacked against you.”

“Sheesh. What are you, a lawyer?” Saskia grumbled.

“Nope, but my good friend Danice is. She’s a total shark. If you ever need representation, give her a call. But in this case, even she would tell you the jury’s a lock. You, my friend, are the opposite of a dominant personality. Which, according to the rules of antonyms in the English language—and I can say this because I’m a writer, so I use words—makes you submissive.”

Defensiveness made Saskia hunch her shoulders in a resentful shrug. “So what does that mean? That secretly I want Nicolas to treat me like an inanimate possession, so I should just stop complaining about it?”

“Lord, no!” Corinne scooted closer and gave her friend a one-armed hug. “That’s not what I intended to say at all. Not even close. As far as I’m concerned, that man deserves a bloody lip at the very least, but that’s my personality talking, not yours. And that’s my point. You’re the only one who can decide how you’re going to deal with your fiancé, but I think you need to understand yourself and what you really want before you do or say anything irrevocable.

“You’re not a dominant person, so you’re never going to want Nicolas to defer to you all the time any more than you want him to let you make all the decisions. There’s nothing wrong with that. The important point in all my psychobabble was that you have to realize that not everything is going to be worth fighting over, not to you. You’re the type of person who can be happy living within a certain power structure and a certain framework of rules, so recognize that and then decide which ones you really
can’t
live with and make those the ones you fight over. If you try to battle over every single thing, all you’ll do is exhaust yourself and make both of you even angrier.”

It made total sense.

Saskia quirked the corner of her mouth and looked at her friend. “So, basically, this was all your long-winded way of saying I should pick my battles?”

“Hey, even Dickens got paid by the word.”

Impulsively she reached out and hugged Corinne. “Thank you. I appreciate you coming over and talking through this with me. Between this and trying to find the real attacker, I feel like it’s been seven years since the party sometimes.”

“Don’t worry,” Corinne reassured her. “I know Mac. He’s Danice the lawyer’s husband, actually, and he’s good. If anyone can find the real culprit, Mac will.”

“That’s good to hear. I think Nicolas is fairly convinced that the only way to clear his name is to find the real attacker and bring him to justice.”

She hesitated, something Corinne picked up on.

“You don’t agree?”

“No, I think it makes sense,” Saskia allowed. “I’m just not sure there’s not something everybody is missing…”

“Like what?”

“Well, the timing really bothers me. I mean, maybe I’m just being paranoid, but it seems strange to me that the attack would happen on the night of our engagement party, after it had broken up and everyone went their separate ways, but while the Tiguri were still on everyone’s mind. But I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’m just still sensitive about Rafael De Santos and Nicolas having their little squabble in front of everyone. Like I said, the timing just makes me uncomfortable.”

Corinne looked thoughtful. “I did see Rafe and Nicolas have a discussion before Rafe left. I think that was right before I talked to you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, they didn’t exactly look like the best of friends, did they? In fact, your fiancé actually looked a little bit mean.”

“You’re not the only one who noticed. I just worry that someone might have remembered that and taken it the wrong way.”

“And done what? Used it to try to frame Nicolas?” The reporter shook her head. “That seems like a bit of a stretch.”

“I know it does, and I’m not even really suggesting that. I just think it might be worth looking into who already had a grudge against De Santos who might want to use the general sentiment against the Tiguri as a kind of smoke screen for an action they already planned to take.”

Corinne whistled between her teeth. “Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but Rafe is a public figure. He’s rich, he’s gorgeous, and he’s the head of a powerful organization. The list of people who haven’t wanted to kill him at one point or another is probably smaller than the one of people who have.”

“I don’t suppose it really matters, anyway.” Saskia forced a smile. “My major in art history didn’t exactly give me a lot of training in digging up dirt on nasty grudges. Unless they involve painters and notorious ballet dancers.”

“Maybe not, but I happen to be an expert on digging up dirt. If it will make you feel better, I’ll do a little poking around. I can’t promise I’ll find anything, but I’ve always believed it never hurts to take a look.”

“You would do that?” Saskia felt truly touched. “I think that’s the sweetest thing you could possibly do for me.”

“No,” Corinne corrected. “The sweetest thing I could do for you would be to kidnap your husband and have him taken in for a lobotomy and forced asshole deprogramming. This is the most practical thing I could do for you.”

Saskia laughed. “Well, it works for me. Thank you.”

“No problem. What are friends for?”

*   *   *

Corinne left a few minutes later, leaving Saskia sitting in the den and trying to figure out the best way to follow her friend’s advice. Saskia knew she had made a mistake earlier by issuing Nicolas an ultimatum to change his behavior or consider their engagement over. As he had pointed out, a Tiguri engagement wasn’t that easy to break. In fact, the agreement could only be dissolved if the mated couple failed to conceive after a minimum of one full year of living together. Unless Saskia wanted to condemn them both to another eleven months, three weeks, and four days of living hell, they would have to come to some sort of compromise.

Besides, in her heart, Saskia knew that she didn’t want to end the engagement. She wanted Nicolas for her mate; she just wanted him to talk to her a little, the way he had in the kitchen last night while she made dinner. Then, he’d spoken to her like a person, asking questions about her life and her hobbies and really listening to her answers. He hadn’t ordered her around or accused her of doing something wrong; he’d just talked to her. When he did that, Saskia found herself even more attracted to him than she had been for the last two decades. Those were the moments when being his mate felt like the most natural thing in the world. Surely they must be able to work out some way to have that kind of relationship for more than thirty minutes at a stretch.

It must be possible.

First, Saskia reminded herself, she would have to pick her battles. Which were the ones she really wanted to win?

It didn’t take long to decide that she didn’t care what he thought or said about her leaving the apartment while he was out yesterday morning. She had left because she was worried about him and angry that she didn’t know where he’d gone or when he’d be back. Leaving him in the same predicament had been a petty form of revenge she had enacted without even realizing her own subconscious intention. It had been wrong, not because she should be required to clear her every move with her mate before she made it but because common courtesy dictated that if she wasn’t going to be where someone expected to find her, she should at least leave a note to explain where she was. She would have done it for a roommate; she could certainly do it for a fiancé. So as far as past mistakes went, she decided the wisest course would be to set them aside and move on.

She also didn’t think they should waste time arguing about her interruption of the meeting with Mac. She could explain that she had only barged into the office unannounced as a last resort after Nicolas refused to explain about the trouble with the Council that had dragged him out of her bed on their first night together. She still felt he should have opened up to her when she asked, so she didn’t regret her actions. In fact, she would do the same thing again if presented with the same choices. But she would also explain that to her mate—calmly and rationally—and put the responsibility for that back on him. If he didn’t want her to manipulate him into sharing things with her, he could either share of his own accord or give her a good—read: not “because I said so”—reason why he couldn’t share.

That was where the real trouble lay, and that was the battle she would pick to fight. Saskia wanted to be a good mate to her fiancé. She wanted to do all the things he needed her to do, from running his social calendar to bearing his children. She wanted to be his companion and support him in his decisions. She wanted to
love
him, damn it, but he had to let her. He had to accept that she wasn’t an accessory but a mate, that in order for her to share his life, he had to actually share his life
with
her. She didn’t need to know what he was thinking every minute of every day, but when something happened to threaten him or her or their life together, then she expected to hear about it. From him. That was her one and only requirement, the one battle she could not afford to lose. She just hoped he would be able to respect her stance on that.

She sat alone in the den for a long time, lost in thought, until the sound of a key in the lock of the front door caught her attention. Her Tiguri hearing picked up the noise easily, and her sense of smell told her immediately that Nicolas was home. She detected none of the sharp, bitter smells of fury that had clung to him when he left, and she felt hope surge in her chest. His footfalls were naturally quiet, but if she strained, she could just barely pick them out. They sounded even but not precisely measured. He sounded as if he was walking, not marching, toward her. She found herself holding her breath.

Her eyes fixed on the doorway even before he appeared in it. She thought he looked tired, too tired for barely five in the afternoon on a Sunday, but otherwise his expression remained neutral. Not frighteningly blank and hard, the way it had looked the last time she had seen him, just even. And cautious.

They stared at each other for a minute; then Nicolas sighed and crossed to the sofa, lowering himself wearily to the cushion beside her. He didn’t touch her and he left several inches of space between them, but he chose the seat beside her instead of the chair to the side or the far cushion where Corinne had curled up earlier. Saskia’s heart rose.

When she spoke, the words ran right over Nic’s, uttered in the same moment.

“I think we sh-h-hou—”

“I’ve been hoping we m-m-migh—”

Each stuttered to a halt. Nic’s mouth quirked. Saskia smiled shyly.

“You first.”

Saskia took a deep breath. This was it. She had to take the risk. “I think we should start over.” She had to force the words out, but once they were there, hanging in the air between them, it felt like a vise releasing her chest. “I never should have said what I did this afternoon. I didn’t really mean it. I don’t consider our engagement null and void. I was just upset, but I handled it badly. I apologize. I won’t say you haven’t done anything to make me angry, but I think I’ve done a pretty good job angering you, as well. So I think we should set that aside and let it go. I think we should start over, from here, and agree to treat each other with respect and consideration.”

Nicolas watched her in silence. His green eyes looked like slivers of jade, opaque and mysterious, but his expression remained relaxed and open while he listened to her words. When she finished, he nodded slowly.

“You did make me angry, but I responded by being cruel, and that’s something I’m not proud of. I regret that I made you feel like less of a person, because that isn’t what I want. I don’t want a mindless slave, a Stepford wife, or a broodmare. Any one of those things would bore me to tears and have me pulling my hair out within a week. I want a mate, and I want you to be that mate. I think starting over is a wonderful idea. I just wish I’d suggested it first.”

Saskia’s eyes widened and her heart sped up. She felt like she’d just woken up and realized it was Christmas morning. “Really?”

Nicolas nodded. “Really.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “That was a whole lot easier than I thought it would be.”

Nicolas gave her a strange look and burst out laughing. He laughed so hard, it made the sofa shake. Saskia held on to the cushions and waited for it to run its course. It took several minutes.

“What?” she finally demanded, once her mate had settled down into the occasional guffaw.

“I just love that you thought this was easy.” He chuckled, flopping his head back on the sofa and turning to look at her. A wide grin softened his harsh features, making him look years younger and shockingly handsome.

“Well, not all of it.” She rolled her eyes and harrumphed. “You know what I mean. I was just talking about this.” She waved a hand between them. “This last bit. I wasn’t sure you’d agree with my suggestion. I thought I’d have to spend a lot more time convincing you.”

Still grinning, Nicolas reached out a hand and took one of hers. He played with her fingers while he watched her face. “Well, I hate to spoil your plans,” he teased, his gaze turning hot. “If you feel the need to convince me of something, I’d be more than happy to let you.”

Saskia felt a low hum of arousal begin in her belly. She’d spent all day in her head, trying to come up with a solution to her problems with her mate, which was almost a relief, because it had kept her from frantically monitoring the state of her body. Tiguri, like their fully feline cousins the tigers, were induced ovulators, which meant that they only released fertile eggs after being stimulated by a male during intercourse. Unlike tigers, though, who entered heat on a regular cycle regardless of whether a male was present for mating, Tiguri females, like human females, were always receptive to mating. Consequently, while a tigress would go into heat, seek out a mate, and then ovulate, a Tiguri would mate first,
then
go into heat, and then ovulate. Which meant that Saskia hadn’t been lying earlier when she’d said that within the next couple of days she was going to become about as horny as a rabid mink.