“Then why is your hand still on your gun?” I asked.
“Because from the smell and look of the bed he just changed shape recently, which means he’s hungry. You’re his lover, he likes you; he doesn’t know me.”
“New shapeshifters are compelled to eat right after the change. That stops being true as they get more practice. Do you really think I’d be alone with a shapeshifter so new that he’d lose control like that?”
“You’re like me, Anita; you don’t always make good decisions when you find new tail.”
“I don’t like that phrase. None of my lovers are just ‘new tail.’”
He shrugged, hand still touching his gun. “Fine, but when we see someone we want to sleep with, we don’t always think it through first.”
Was he right about me? He was certainly right about the ardeur picking quick and hard, and not always the best choices. I had more control now, but . . . If he was right, he was right, and I had to let it go.
“And, Anita, this is a small room, and honestly if I didn’t trust you, I’d have my gun out and pointed at your blond friend. Pointed, aimed, and ready to shoot would be my only chance against something as fast as a lycanthrope in a room this small, Anita.”
I nodded. “I know that.”
“Then why are you bitching that I’m touching my gun?”
It was a good point. I shrugged, which made the towel begin to slip again. I caught it earlier this time, so I was still covered. “Fine. Ethan, this is Marshal Bernardo Spotted-Horse.”
Ethan waved a hand that was big enough to palm Bernardo’s skull. I guess in the end there was nothing I could do to make Bernardo comfortable with the big weretiger in the small room, and then I realized something else. Ethan was naked. He was like most wereanimals and not bothered by nudity, but in this shape he wouldn’t fit in any clothes he’d brought for his under-six-feet human form. Well, maybe the boxers?
But a lot of men had problems with other men being nude, especially if they were well endowed. There was always a measuring stick in a man’s mind when it came to certain things. Who was taller, and who was, um, well, bigger.
I tried to look at Ethan in this form from a guy’s point of view, and realized there might be more than one reason that a human male might be intimidated.
I looked back at Bernardo, and it was my turn to grin. “Is the nudity bothering you? I mean, Ethan’s?”
Bernardo shook his head, but his eyes sort of flickered downward.
My grin got broader. “Of all the human men I’ve seen nude, Bernardo, you are the last person I thought would be intimidated by size.” I laughed, I couldn’t help it.
“Are you saying that he’s as big in human form as I am in this form?” Ethan asked. Most men wouldn’t have asked that blandly.
I glanced back at Bernardo. “From what I remember, yeah.”
Bernardo gave me a mild version of his sexy smile, but it never reached his eyes. They were all wary, and worried about the most dangerous thing in the room. He’d flirt, but not until he was sure of the weretiger. The way he was acting, I wasn’t certain there was a way for him to be comfortable around the weretiger in half-man form.
“Is he an old lover of yours?” Ethan asked.
“No,” I said, and my face was still soft with the fading laugh.
“Then how do you know how well endowed he is?” Ethan asked.
I looked at him. “Are you jealous?”
The cat face frowned, but there was a very human intelligence through those eyes. “I think so, and I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t work for you, and it doesn’t work in the red clan. The women totally get to pick the men, so I can’t even say it’s my culture.” He spread those big hands that I knew with a flick of his muscles could reveal claws big enough to slice me open. “It’s just that it’s been a long time, and the thought of sharing this soon hurts a little.”
I went to him, and was out of hands. I put the gun on the edge of the bare mattress and turned back to the towering, furred figure. I’d learned a long time ago that being physically intimidating didn’t keep you from getting your feelings hurt. Everyone’s heart is the same size.
I hugged him one-armed, until his arms wrapped around me, holding me close enough that the press of our bodies would hold the towel in place. I hugged him with both arms then, letting my hands play in the soft, thick fur of his back. He leaned down over me, bending more and more of that tall upper body over me until he could press his face against the top of my head. He huffed against my hair; it was something a lot of cats did, sort of halfway between a breath going out and in, and a soft sound that was used for talking to kittens or favorite people. It was a good, caring sound. I hugged him tighter, rubbing my cheek against the warmth of him. The fur was thinner on the front of him so that I could touch his skin through the silky fur. He was so warm.