Page 17 of Love the Way You Lion (Rise of the Resistance #3)

The Blade Slithers Her Way Into His Heart

TALIA

I stride in, looking around for him because I know he’s here. He’s been calm since the service. It’s like he’s getting over his mate, but making sure not to ask anyone for anything. I’ve done my best to comfort him when he seems the most upset, but he’s never once talked about what he feels.

It worries the hell out of me.

There was something at odds about his relationship with the other mates.

Rafe avoided seeing Sari—unlike Deli who got held hostage at her house.

He complied with Sari’s request for a drawing, but I watched him struggle for days before rooting through the only locked cabinet in his studio.

He pulled out a beautiful watercolor of Wilde that he placed in a carrying sleeve, but he didn’t look at it again, nor did he reply when Sari thanked him.

He nodded and handed it over, staying quiet until we could leave.

Rafe is grieving, but he’s conflicted, and it shows.

After Taurus told me about the cat, I’m not surprised.

I’ve said it since the beginning and I’m saying it again now: something terrible happened to these two and I realize now that Sari and her deceased clone were in the thick of it.

Whatever they went through is awful enough that neither wants anyone—even us—to find out about it.

Rafe walks in with a pint of ice cream and a spoon in his hand. His eyes are dark and his hair is braided tightly down his back. He’s been very austere since the cremation, and I miss his flamboyance. Giving me a smile, he drops onto the couch and sits the pint down on the table. “Oi, love.”

He rubs his temples and I can tell he has a headache. It’s from bottling everything up for so long. Taurus told me he’s very concerned that something is hinky with this accident. He’s got a team on it, but I feel cautious, especially with the information that he got from his wife. Resurrection?

Christ, I can only hope that the magickal kitty is keeping that from her primary. I don’t want him to dig deeper.

I prefer to be ready if he needs me. The only time I’ve gotten unstrapped since the funeral is when we’ve been intimate; I’ve even been sleeping with Precious under the pillow.

I don’t trust Sari and her cadre of clowns for a second, and I’ll be damned if waiting isn’t making my fangs twitch.

No use getting Rafe all upset, though. I’d rather him focus on healing, than worry about their bullshit.

So I pad over and ask him, “Did you bring two spoons or are you going to let me use yours?”

He smiles a bit, making room for me. “You can share. I’m not afraid of catching your cooties.”

“That’s good, because they’d be all over you by now.” I scoot close, ducking under his arm. “Flavor?”

“Mint chocolate chip. Leo went to the place on the other side my girl loves this morning. There’s nothing better. ”

I blink, shaking my head. “You’re going to think I’m lying when I say that you brought my favorite flavor.”

His lips curl briefly. “Nope. The more we get to know one another, the more we have in common. I’m sorry that stuff’s making that less simple right now.” He sucks ice cream off a sizable chunk of chocolate and I stare at his insofar ‘non-sharing’ spoon.

“You couldn’t have known. None of us could.”

Nodding, he offers a spoonful and I take it before he changes his mind. “True. The woman’s upset. She says that the coyote is planning something she prefers no part of.”

Shit. I was hoping she’d kept that to herself.

I regard him for a minute, but he doesn’t seem as worried about it as she is. Sighing, I lick the last of the spoon and dip it back into the ice cream, holding it out for him. “Taurus is looking into the accident. He’s wary, since that little conniver is talking about some hoodoo.”

The quiet clone frowns. “It’s bad if the woman said no. She’s been to some dark places with magick. It takes a lot for her to say no.”

Tucking it away to discuss with my mate later, I nod. Someone with that kind of power can only be on Earth. That means someone arranged this on the fly or long before the writer wrecked.

Interesting.

Grinning, I pretend not to worry. “Nothing to worry about, I’m sure. Just Sari spouting off about things she doesn’t understand because of Beltane and sorrow. People grieve differently.”

He nods, looking unconvinced.

“Besides, you have me and you’re crazy about me. You just don’t know it yet. ”

Arching a brow, he steals the spoon. “Who says I don’t?”

He catches me by surprise again, and I drop a big dollop of ice cream. “Shit.”

Leaning down, he licks it off, offering me a small grin. “Taken care of.”

“Can’t complain about that method. It beats the hell out of napkins. To answer you, no one said you were, either.”

“Baby, I’m insane about you. I’m sharing my comfort ice cream, aren’t I?”

Shaking my head, I mutter, “We are going to work on your communication skills, mister.” I wait for him to finish his bite, then snatch the spoon again. “When one is crazy about someone, it’s a good idea to tell them instead of hoping they have some kind of ESP and peep in your head.”

“One would think you could feel it.”

“I’m careful about shielding, thanks ever so.

I’d be a basket case if I weren’t. I’m not always successful with some, but there it is.

” I glance at my hands, knowing that my sorrow mixed with worry and frustration are scorching over my skin like tiny pinpricks and if he could see it, he’d realize how much I keep closed off.

“I need the words just like every other girl. Not to mention, it’d be rude of me just to strip everything you feel and read it like the paper, now wouldn’t it? ”

He ponders. “Well, as you said before, the marks,” he points to his neck, “come with some entitlement. But I’m not hiding anything, so I wouldn’t get worried if you did.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I read that much. When it’s about me, I stay away. Sheesh. If you ever fall in love with me, will it be this hard to get it out of you?” My nose wrinkles because he’s not only refusing to give me the answers I want, but he’s using my own words against me.

Bastard.

“No, it shouldn’t be difficult. I wonder if I’m having a little spillover from the woman. She’s far more upset than me because of the assumption she’d be all in for some crazy necromancy or something.” He reaches up and cups my face. “I’m “bloody crazy about you, pet. I’m falling harder every day.”

“Thank you.” I beam, smearing ice cream on his nose and then licking it off. I can’t explain why I feel happy with him even when I should be sad, but I do.

“Ack! Tell a woman you like them and see what happens? Sticky, that’s what.”

I study him, words tumbling out before I stop them. “You know I’m falling in love with you, right? Because if that’s a problem, I’d like to know now so I can prevent it from happening.”

“We seem to be floating in the same boat, pet. It might be down the River Styx, but we’re in it.”

Laughing, I curl up next to him. “Can I tell you something?” I need to share this with him, because I never share this with anyone. But something makes me want to, so I’m going to try. If it distracts him from the whole Wilde mess, more the better.

“Of course.”

“My fangs? They’re not like yours.”

“Neither are the cat’s. She’s got four.”

“Mine are more serpentine.”

“Huh. Curved and all? ”

“Yeah. They’re retractable like a snake’s fangs, too. They come from the roof of my mouth.”

He thinks for a minute, and I almost lose my courage. “Cool. Do you have two or four? Some snakes have four.”

“Only two.”

He studies me as if imagining and squints. “Are they long?”

“Longer than yours. Probably longer than your mate’s, though hers are bigger than all of ours. Cats have some serious incisors.” My eyes cut to his neck, finding the four holes and noting that I’m right. I’ve not looked at Taurus’ marks from her, but I’m betting they’re pretty large.

“Can I see or would that bother you?” he asks, looking curious.

“One or both? They’re independently retractable,” I reply, trying to make myself as brave as I was when I started this conversation. He’s not making an issue about them, but this is not something I let people see. “Full set. I’m curious.”

Swallowing hard, I blink my eyes once, twice, and my pupils contract to diamond slits. I hiss and stretch my neck and then turn to peer at him. Two and a half inches of sharp and wickedly curved fangs glisten wetly where my incisors used to be. I peer at him, scenting the air to taste his reaction.

His eyes rove over the fangs and meet my eyes before he reaches over to cup his palm along my face. “Very nice pet. Venom or no?”

Flushing, I meet his eyes and nod. “But like all poisonous snakes, I don’t have to use the venom.”

“Interesting. Fatal or ouch?”

“Very fatal. I can poison a cow.”

“I could suggest a few. ”

I hiss, laughter not working well in the snake guise. “Um, mind if I put them away now? You’re looking tastier than normal.”

“Go ahead, if it’s tempting you,” he grins and leans back against the couch.

Slipping back into normalcy, my lips quirk. It worried me he’d be inconsolable with Wilde, like he was with the others. He’s not. I still believe that there’s something that was going on with them, but I will not ruin this moment by prying.

“Better now?”

“No, but at least I won’t spear you.”

“Wouldn’t’ve minded unless it bothered you.” He smiles, his handsome face making my entire body heat.

“My hunger for your blood keeps growing. I feed differently than you do, though I imagine you might have figured that out. I don’t dislocate my jaw, nor is my tongue forked, but I’ve got better eyesight than an average chit.

I’d break a fang if I fed like you guys do.

I’m a ‘strike and watch them bleed’ type.

If I get deep enough, I can hit more than one vein at a time. It’s very bloody.”

“Then what?”

He looks interested and hell, in for a penny, right?

Rafe’s not running away in disgust and he’s not playing some crazy ‘mine is better than yours’ game. Why not? “I drink. They die. I’m immune from my venom and it’s an anticoagulant derivative. If I’ve got a dirty mark, I can kill first and sip later. It’s not like a real snake.”

“Obviously. But what are you?”

“This isn’t genetic to me like it is to you. There’s a long story about how this happened to me. I guess I don’t know any other type of story but long. Serpentine is the best I can do to answer your question of what.”

“You don’t use the fangs because you can’t do it without killing people, then?”

“No. I don’t show my fangs because everyone has them and I wasn’t in the mood to explain where mine came from, as if I was trying to rationalize being more special than everyone else.” I shrug. “I have issues with lack of originality.”

“Oh, well, that makes sense. Look at the woman—no sooner than her quest starts, other people pop up with special shit.”

“I haven’t killed with the fangs—hell, I haven’t even used them in over a year.” I pull out my arm blades and twirl them. “These are my weapons now.”

He smiles and kisses my forehead. “Whatever makes you comfortable, pet.”

I sigh. He is a good man, and he sure as hell doesn’t get enough credit. “You realize that if he and I find out they’ve done this to mess with you—and I mean you and Deli—no one will stop me from using these, right?”

His eyes close, and he nods. “Hell will come knocking if his death is part of some grand scheme. That, my love, I did not need to be told.”

Hell will come knocking. He’s right about that.