Page 22 of Love the Way You Lion (Rise of the Resistance #3)

The Cat Talks Clothing

DELILAH

“ T hat was one hell of a ‘welcome home’ present,” I murmur as my tail coils delicately around him, our bodies entwined in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The Beast, sated and tender, relaxes against me while my form melts unwaveringly into his strong embrace.

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him as he murmurs, “No more so than the wee one reaching out and touching us. She’s a powerful mite. She’s going to be like her mum.” His voice carries equal parts amusement and awe.

I return his smile with a soft, affectionate rub of my cheek against the warmth of his chest. “Sure is.”

For a moment the air thickens as he hesitates, his gaze searching mine for understanding. “I know it didn’t go well today at the gnome’s house. You blocked everyone from the details. You kept quiet about the specifics. Talia said it worried Rafe.”

A long sigh escapes me, the memory of fleeting bliss overshadowed by the inevitable spill of darker moments. “It did not,” I confess, my tone heavy with the residue of heartache.

“Tell me,” he implores, his voice a blend of concern and gentle insistence.

Closing my eyes to steady the torrent of memories, I try to compress three agonizing hours into a few simple words.

“Sari spent the entire time explaining why she needs this, why she wants to do it, and why I’m awful for not helping.

Every word tumbled out, steeped in her own insecurities, yet I’m painted as the villain for choosing to sit this one out.

I’ve made my peace as best as I can, but I still cradle my pain like anyone who’s lost someone dearly.

I simply cannot allow her to tear open my raw, healing wound and douse it in gasoline.

That makes me seem selfish, self-centered—just another accusation. ”

His muscles visibly tighten as he fights the swell of anger that threatens to burst forth. “I see.” His voice softens further, “Can I ask you something somewhat related?”

“Why not?” I reply, a spark of intrigue mingling with my concern.

He continues, “The other day when she lashed out at you, you told her that Wilde was never really yours, that Victor was never truly yours, and even that Rafe wasn’t entirely yours—at least, not all yours, right?”

I offer a relaxed shrug, embracing the truth in his words. “It’s true. I’ve always shared people. It’s not meant to demean anyone—I just can’t claim every part of who they are. I don’t love Rafe any less, nor Victor.”

His eyes narrow as he pauses, then adds, “What about me?” He stops, tilting his head as confusion mingles with tenderness.

“Wait—instead of answering, let me explain something: I AM yours. Talia and I, we’re the best of friends, lovers, entwined in every possible way—but it’s never been like what we share.

That doesn’t take anything away from her; it’s simply different. I needed you to know that.”

A soft smile spreads across my face as I gently stroke his rugged features. “It always felt as if, in some subtle way, even a little, you were mine. I would never dare to ask you for more.”

“Since the gnome seems intent on making you feel like every fragment of you is flawed, I wanted to remind you of something that’s true.” His sincerity radiates, grounding us in this tender interlude.

I pull him even closer, arms wrapping around his strong frame with a fierce protectiveness mingled with adoration.

My heart aches with both love and an impending need to untangle the lingering bonds of my past so I can offer him something no one else ever has—complete, unreserved unity.

With Wilde’s death, we’ve grown closer, edging out the chaos of conflict.

.. or at least, that’s how it felt once upon a time.

Then he shifts the conversation, his tone lightening again. “Now, love, what’s all this about an outfit for that damn fetish thing you’re still madly obsessed with?”

A laughing warmth fills me as I rip a glance his way. “I think I’ve already picked out my outfit. You want to see?”

“Probably best—so I can figure out how to drag you out of it every couple of hours.”

I snort playfully and raise my hand; from the scattered clutter on the floor, a well-worn binder ascends to my palm. Its pages flutter until settling on the right picture. “Here we go.”

He blinks in surprise, his mouth momentarily caught in the wonder of it, before finding his voice to cough. “You wear that, and you won’t emerge from your room to meet and greet anyone, got it? ”

My smile turns wicked with mischief. “No need to worry about extracting me from it, though.”

Darkness pools in his eyes as he shifts to another matter. “Is the goddess invited to this? What about Damien and Theodora?”

“The invitation was community-wide—everyone is welcome.”

“That might be a kicker. They don’t come out as often as we’d like.”

I grin broadly. “Damien in fetish gear—now that’s a picture worth a thousand laughs.”

His tone turns teasing as he muses, “Hell, I don’t know. For all I know, he might even consider a suit and tie to be his version of fetish gear.” With a contemplative frown, he asks, “What’s Sampson going as?”

Flipping the binder open, I reveal his chosen attire with a flourish.

“He’s gearing up with leather on the bottom, fishnet on the top to highlight his piercings, his hair wild and tangled with leather thongs, and of course, a collar—although I need to sift through the box for the perfect one.

We tossed out a whole bunch last month.”

“That sounds incredibly hot,” he remarks, his frown softening into a giggle before he clears his throat. “You really threw out a lot after they…?”

“Yep,” I nod succinctly. “Every single thing they touched was banished—I didn’t want any reminders cluttering the house.”

“I suppose that’ll delight the gnome. And who knows, maybe even that bloody writer if she’s finally done with her nonsense.”

My breath catches as I fix my gaze on the open page, trying to hold in the cyclone of emotions stirring inside me.

He’s gone—truly gone. There’s no need to fret over collars at this party because his memory is etched in our silence.

And Jesus Christ , shouldn’t she know that’s precisely why you shouldn’t attempt to resurrect him?

! Okay—deep breath—I remind myself to laugh it off, to make light of this macabre theme and let it dissolve into the humor of a deli.

Why let this grim motif linger? Ah yes, because sometimes I’m an absolute fucking idiot.

After a moment’s attempt to regain control, I shake my head.

“I find it doubtful on all counts. First, she won’t even bother with him because she’ll be too busy cackling with her cronies or pouting in the corner.

Second, even if he were back, Wilde never really wanted Rafe unless jealousy was simmering.

And third—this one’s the kicker—after this brush with death, I don’t think either of us will ever look kindly on that tree branch again, if ever. So, why are you worrying?”

His sigh is soft, the weight of his care evident. “I’m thinking about Talia. I must be sure she likes that getup, and while I’m watching you, no one else will be paying attention to her. If Sampson struts out looking like that? He’ll be swarmed all damn evening.”

“I’m sure he’ll stay glued to her,” I assure him with a playful shrug.

“You don’t know him as well as you think.

Yes, he flirts and exchanges polite pleasantries, but he’s not nearly as outgoing as he used to be.

And besides, you haven’t been to these big parties before—people tend to huddle into little groups, and it won’t be an issue. ”

“The things I do for you,” he sighs, his tone a blend of exasperation and fond affection.

“You big blowhard. You’ll have your fun even if disaster strikes, and at worst, you can lounge and growl around me wearing nothing but that dazzling mark emblazoned across your chest.”

His eyes light up mischievously as the idea takes hold. “Only those bloody stripes of latex and leather—and that enormous feather! Now I must decide what I’ll be wearing.”

“You’ll look hot no matter what, especially if you’re draped in me,” I tease with a sultry smile.

He ponders for a moment before half-jokingly suggesting, “Maybe I’ll just go naked—save an earring and an irritating little bird as a statement.”

I narrow my eyes, playfully stern. “Nuh-uh, buster. I’m not letting those drooling simpletons get a peep at you or your idiot self. Mine’s already covered, so yours will be too. I’d end up wreaking havoc before the night’s over and then have to punish myself—and I do plenty without you.”

He chuckles, preening slightly as his pride swells. Then, with a playful growl, he exclaims, “Oh, great! Now you’ve crowned that pernicious little git, and he’ll never let me forget it.”

“Hmmmph. They need not have their eyes on us anyway,” I murmur lowly as I run my fingers over the delicate feathers of the bird, which preens and coos as if caught up in our private moment

A tender teasing note colors his voice as he says, “I’m feeling all kinds of kindly because you’re promising to eviscerate chits for me. It’s so bloody cute.” He tweaks his nose affectionately and pulls me in closer, prompting a mock glare in return.

“I’m not cute. I’m mean, snarly, and downright shred-y,” I snap back, a playful fire in my tone.

“Hell, yes—you are to the sheep of the world. But to me, you’re as soft and tender as it gets. It’s exactly the same for me,” he counters warmly.

I lean in and kiss him deeply. “I love the lion and the lamb in you.”

He grumbles a bit but returns the kiss with equal passion. “Only you get away with saying that. Anyone else would... well, they’d be history. ”

“Even Rafe? He’d look all hot and bothered.” I tease.

His eyes narrow mischievously. “To sleep with you, woman—no one else matters. I was speaking for the goddess. It’s been a good night despite a shitty day, and we’ve got plans to shape tomorrow.”

A soft yawn escapes me as I curl up contentedly against him. “Okay, baby.” My sigh mingles with sleep, the moment wrapping us in calm intimacy.

“Sleep, my love,” he whispers gently, his voice like a promise. “Everything will look better in the morning.”

I smirk defiantly as I murmur, “Now you jinxed it.”