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Nathaniel stiffened then, his whole body reacting to what I’d said. He turned slowly around until he looked up at me with those flower-colored eyes. “That wasn’t fair, Anita. I’ve never disagreed with you in anything.”

I sighed, not because he was right, but because of the hurt in his eyes. I went to him, balanced on my heels, because I didn’t dare try to kneel in the glass. I touched his bare shoulder, the side of his face. “I’m sorry, Nathaniel, you just caught me off guard.”

“Why won’t you let me in, Anita, why? I know you want to.”

I touched his back where the bite marks had almost healed, dim reddish circles. “I don’t let anyone in without a fight, Nathaniel. You should know that by now.”

“Not everything has to be a fight,” he said. His eyes were very wide, glittering.

“For me it does.”

He shook his head, closing his eyes, and tears trailed down his cheeks. I helped him stand, because I was still worried about the glass. When we were standing, I eased my arms around him until my face touched his bare skin, my mouth pressed into the hollow of his shoulder where the collarbone spoons inward. His arms wrapped around me, held me close. His skin was so soft, so warm. I took a deep shaking breath. He smelled of vanilla, like always. I was never sure whether it was soap, shampoo, cologne, or just him. But underneath was a ranker scent—one that no perfume-maker in the world would bottle. Something feral and far too real, the scent of leopard, of pard.

I felt Micah at my back. I knew the feel of his body, like a line of heat before he pressed himself against me. But his arms didn’t encircle me, they touched Nathaniel. Micah’s body spooned against mine as we stood, but his hands, his arms traced mine, holding Nathaniel to us, embracing him.

Nathaniel let out a trembling breath. A deep, rumbling sound came out of Micah’s throat, and it took me a second to realize he was purring, a deep rhythm of contentment. The purr vibrated against my back. Nathaniel started to cry, and I heard myself say, “We’re here, Nathaniel, we’re here.” We’re here. Pressed into the rich vanilla of Nathaniel’s skin, Micah’s purr thrumming against my body, the feel of both their bodies so solid, so real, and I did cry. I held Nathaniel, Micah held both of us, we cried, and it was okay.

43

SOMEONE CLEARED THEIR throat loudly from the doorway. I blinked through the soft tears and found Zane standing there. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got a crowd out here.”

“What do you mean?” Micah asked.

“The swan king, his swanmanes, and pretty much at least one representative from every other wereanimal in the city, as far as I can tell.”

Nathaniel and Micah pulled away from me. We all rubbed at our faces; even Micah had been crying. I wasn’t sure why; maybe he was just an emotional kind of guy. “What do they want?” I asked.

“To see you, Anita.”

“Why?”

Zane shrugged. “The swan king won’t talk to us flunkies. He insists that he talk to Anita, and her Nimir-Raj, if she pleases.”

Micah and I exchanged glances. We both looked as puzzled as I felt. “Tell Reece that I need a bit more info before I grant an interview. I’m a little preoccupied.”

Zane grinned wide enough to flash his upper and lower cat fangs. “We deny him entrance to the house until he tells us peons what he wants. I like it, but he won’t.”

I sighed. “I don’t want to start a fight just because he shows up without calling. Shit.” I started to walk out, but Micah caught my hand as I went by. I turned back to look at him.

“May your Nimir-Raj accompany you?”

I smiled, partly because he’d asked, rather than assumed, and partly because looking at him made me smile. I squeezed his hand, and his hand closed around mine, pressing back. What I wanted to say was, “I’d love the company,” what came out was, “Sure.”

He smiled, and for the first time it wasn’t mixed, it was just a smile. He raised my hand to his lips and pressed his mouth against my knuckles. The gesture reminded