Taming the Lion (6 page)

Dance music played over the sound system and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimly lit interior. The lunchtime rush hadn’t yet started. The bar was empty apart from a couple of girls drinking cocktails at a table by the floor-to-ceiling window and the bartender, a tall, striking-looking woman with hair so blonde it was close to white. The girls gave off an all-too-human smell and he walked by them without a second glance. The bartender was the owner of the spoor he’d been following.

“Hey, what can I get—?” Her voice trailed off as she looked at Kaspar. Her eyes narrowed warily, and though she appeared to be smiling, he knew she was baring her teeth as a warning gesture. Clearly, she knew him by his scent to be a fellow shifter, though not one she recognized, and now she was assessing him as a potential threat.

He spread his hands wide, palms upward, to indicate he meant her no harm, then took a few paces forward.

The woman came out from behind the bar. She had the sinewy build that was common, in Kaspar’s experience, to female lion shifters, and she moved with grace, but she still had to raise her head to look him in the eye. “Don’t tell me,” she said. “London.”

He shook his head. “Amsterdam.”

That appeared to throw her. Was she not aware his city had a pride, or did she just not expect one of its members to turn up on her territory?

Almost at once, she recovered her composure. “Marina White.” There was warmth in her amber eyes, though her body language still had Kaspar on alert.

“Kaspar de Wit.”

She nodded, seeming to remember her manners. “Nice to meet you, Kaspar. What brings you to Bath?”

“It’s a complicated story,” he said, “but I was hoping your pride could maybe find room for me.”

“Don’t tell me. You were defeated in a challenge and they kicked you out.”

He didn’t bother to correct her. If she wanted to believe that, it would make things easier for him. Better to be thought just another loser then explain the truth while his humiliation was still so fresh.

“But your kind usually head for London,” she pointed out.

“Maybe I didn’t want to be around my kind,” he retorted.

“Fair point.” She looked Kaspar up and down as if seeing him properly for the first time. “You know what? Your timing’s actually pretty good. I had to sack one of my staff last night. Caught him with his fingers in the till. Have you ever worked in a bar, Kaspar?”

“Oh, yeah.” He’d worked in several. A brown café near to the Rembrandthuis. An Irish bar just off Dam Square where English tourists gathered to watch football on the big screen. An old-fashioned drinking establishment near the Noordermarkt where there were drunken singalongs every night and the tables were topped with squares of carpet. He’d lasted a couple of months in each of these places before he’d grown bored of them, just like he’d eventually tired of every job he’d had.

“Well, that’s a good start. It means I won’t have to spend too much time training you up. But don’t think I’m doing you any special favors. I’ll demand of you the same things as I do all my staff—hard work, honesty and an appreciation that whatever I say around here goes.”

“Yes, ma’am.” For some reason, Kaspar found it important Marina thought well of him. She had a straightforward manner of speaking that impressed him and he knew she would stand for no nonsense. If she made him knuckle down and put in a good day’s graft for once in his life, it might well be the making of him.

“So what made you choose the name of this place?” he asked. “You’ve got a pretty fancy way of spelling out ‘love’.”

Marina grinned. “It’s pronounced
lerv
. And it’s Danish for lion. A happy coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

“Very clever. And how long have you been here?”

“I took the business over around nine months ago. My twin brother, Marcus, co-owns it with me, but he’s really a silent partner. He’s based in France now. He married a woman who’s one of the pride that lives in the Champagne region.”

She took a green glass bottle from one of the chiller cabinets behind the bar then handed it to Kaspar. The label bore the name ‘Chateau LeBlanc’ and an illustration of a mediaeval castle.

“This is our house Champagne. It’s produced by Marcus’ brother-in-law.”

Kaspar nodded and handed the bottle back to her. “So when would you like me to start work?”

Marina smiled and nodded in the direction of the window table. One of the girls there had gotten up and was walking toward the bar, clutching a copy of the drinks menu. “Right about now would be ideal.”

* * * *

When his shift ended, Kaspar had put in a solid six hours’ work. His feet ached and his stomach growled with hunger, but he sensed that Marina was pleased with his efforts.

“Okay, so I’ll need you back here just before eleven tomorrow morning,” Marina said. “That’s when we open up. We’ll talk about shift patterns then. But you did well today. Get a good night’s sleep and I’ll see you…” Something seemed to occur to her. “Where are you staying, by the way? Only I’ll need your address for the paperwork. The taxman doesn’t like it if my records are incomplete.”

“To be honest, I don’t have anywhere yet. When I walked in here, I’d literally just arrived in the city.”

“Well, in that case…” Marina grabbed a cocktail napkin from the stack by the side of the till then scribbled something on it. “My cousin Ellie has a spare room. She was saying she’d like to take in a lodger to help with the bills but she doesn’t want to share her living space with a human.”

Kaspar understood that attitude. Shifters and humans had co-existed for centuries, but his kind had never felt truly welcome in their world. They worked with humans, socialized together and even—his mind flashed back to the moment when Blazej’s thick cock had entered him—fucked them. But these relationships were an uneasy alliance at best. Nowadays they were, by and large, able to live their lives without threat of harm as the superstitious fears surrounding shifters had pretty much disappeared.

That hadn’t always been the case. In Amsterdam, a small group of wealthy and influential families had banded together in the seventeenth century and vowed to eradicate the pride there. They had chosen a man to perform the task who’d been known as De Jager—the hunter. As the years had passed and the city had faced threats from more potent sources, the practice of electing a hunter had died out, though in recent months Arjan had started talk that it had been revived. He’d claimed the sudden deaths of a couple of distant family members were not as straightforward as they appeared. Kaspar found such a story hard to believe, though he was no longer in a position to worry about what Arjan thought or did.

But what about Arjan’s mate, Kees? Was it really possible that Arjan could have put aside all his instinctive distrust of humans and formed a bond with one?

He squinted at the address Marina had written on the napkin. “So how far away is this place?”

“It’s just the other side of the railway station, close to Alexandra Park. I’d say about a fifteen-minute walk for a young, fit lad like you. And I’ll give Ellie a ring. Let her know you’re on your way.”

“Thanks, Marina. But you don’t have to put yourself out for me like this.”

“Yes, I do.” She regarded him with a strangely compassionate stare. “You’re hardly the first shifter to seek sanctuary within another pride. I know that if Marcus ever needed to exile himself, I’d want someone to look out for him and make sure he knew he was among friends.”

Kaspar nodded, more grateful than he cared to admit for Marina’s concern for his welfare. He grabbed his rucksack from under the counter where he’d left it then hefted it over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said then strode out of løve feeling considerably happier than when he’d entered.

Chapter Eight

As he left the bar, he called up a map of the local area on his phone. Marina’s talk of her cousin’s home being near a park had piqued his interest. Would he have a place where he could run in his lion form? On his journey to Bath, he’d gazed in wonder at the rolling hills surrounding the city, so different to the relentlessly flat landscape of his home country. There were public parks throughout Amsterdam, of course, but they were civic amenities with neatly tended lawns and asphalt paths. The beast within him yearned to be somewhere unmanaged by humans, where the undergrowth grew wild and the sound of car engines didn’t intrude.

He was disappointed to discover himself walking past a park no different to the ones he knew from home. There were trees with wide, spreading branches that would cast a welcome shade on warm days and high grass, looking as though it had never been mowed, but Kaspar could never be truly free in any space that had iron railings encircling it.

His route took him steadily uphill, and he relished the novelty of being able to turn and look down in the direction he’d come.

Ellie’s home formed part of a long terrace of sturdy, two-story houses, built of pale stone with a slate roof. He knocked on the green-painted front door and waited.

Even though Ellie had been warned to expect him, she still looked as though she’d been caught in the middle of something when she opened the door. She had smudges of what looked like flour on the end of her nose and across the front of the striped apron she wore.

“Hi, you must be Kaspar. Come in. I’d shake hands, but I’m baking at the moment.”

She led him down the hall and into the kitchen. As if to prove the truth of her words, an open bag of flour stood on the table, along with an earthenware mixing bowl and a sturdy rolling pin.

“I don’t know whether Marina told you,” Ellie said, “but I work as a teacher at St. Bride’s. That’s the primary school just down the road, next to the church. Anyway, we’re throwing a coffee morning as a fundraiser to help us buy a new minibus, and Muggins here volunteered to provide two dozen mini quiches.”

She’d barely paused for breath during her speech, and Kaspar had taken a moment to assess her. Her topaz eyes sparkled with cheerfulness, and her caramel-toned hair had been cut in a short style that flicked out at the ends. All the female lion shifters Kaspar had known moved with a languid elegance. In contrast, Ellie was like a whirlwind, never remaining still for a moment.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve got everything in hand, even though it might not look like it… Though you could be a sweetheart and put the kettle on. I’ll make us both some tea then I’ll show you your room.”

He’d always thought it a cliché that the English accompanied every event of any significance with a cup of tea, but apparently not. While Ellie returned to making her pastry, he filled the kettle and put it on the hob to boil.

“So, Marina says you were part of the Amsterdam pride,” Ellie commented as she came to wash her flour-covered hands under the tap.

“That’s right, but it was time to move on.”

“Why come here, and not London? I’m not saying that having a new face around here isn’t welcome, but I’d have thought the Smoke would have held a lot more attraction.”

“I don’t know. I just feel like I was meant to come here—that there’s something waiting for me I wouldn’t have found in London.”

Ellie dried her hands on a towel. “Something…or someone? You wouldn’t be the first shifter who’s been unconsciously attracted to the place where they’re destined to meet their mate.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s the reason. I’m not even looking for anyone right now.”

“Well, isn’t that always the time you find them?” She was interrupted by the whistling of the kettle. “The tea’s in the cupboard to the left of the sink, if you’d be so kind as to get it down for me.”

He did as she’d asked, handing Ellie a white metal caddy on which the word ‘Tea’ had been stenciled in blue. Alongside it were two similar canisters labeled ‘Coffee’ and ‘Sugar’.

Ellie spooned tealeaves into a pot before pouring in boiling water. She went to fetch milk from the fridge. “How do you like it?”

“To be honest, I’m more of a coffee drinker… It’s a Dutch thing. But I’ll have it with milk and no sugar, thank you.”

Once the tea had brewed to Ellie’s satisfaction, she poured mugs for both of them, adding just a splash of milk to her own and a little more to Kaspar’s. “Bring that with you.”

She led Kaspar upstairs, pointing out the bathroom and her own bedroom on the way to a door at the end of the landing. When she pushed it open, he got a glimpse of a small room, its walls painted a cheerful shade of yellow, with curtains that matched the cream and gray pattern of the cover on the double bed.

“I’m afraid we have to share the bathroom,” Ellie said.

“Oh, that won’t be a problem.” Kaspar set his rucksack down on the floor and looked around. The built-in closet appeared more than big enough to hold the few items of clothing he’d brought with him and he could store his other bits and pieces in the bedside cabinet. “But one thing Marina didn’t mention was the rent you’re looking for.”

“As you’re family, kind of”—she grinned, revealing sharp little teeth—“let’s say forty-five pounds a week. Bills included.”

Kaspar had no idea how that compared to the average price for lodgings in this part of the city, but he suspected Ellie was doing him a favor. He wasn’t going to complain. It would be nice living with someone who understood the rhythms of his life and who wouldn’t be surprised if he felt the need to leave the house in the middle of the night when the compulsion to prowl in lion form became impossible to ignore.

“Okay. Most of my money is still in euros, but—”

“Don’t worry, Kaspar. You can settle up with me when you get your wages from Marina. Now, I’ll let you settle in, and when you’re ready, come down and I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“You’re not. I’ve been rattling around in this place on my own for so long that it’ll be nice to have someone to share it with.”

He waited for her to elaborate, suspecting there might be more to her story, but it seemed she’d said all she was prepared to on the subject.