“Dahksahna Circe,” she said softly and took my hand, “he is The Tiger and you are his Tigress, but you are introducing a pet into your family. Not a cat or a dog or a bird but a dangerous carnivorous animal. You don’t even know how to speak to your new husband in his language. I think, perhaps, you should settle into –”
“Look at them!” I exclaimed, throwing an arm out to the pen of cute, cavorting baby tigers. “They’re adorable. They’re not carnivorous animals.”
“Even now, my dear, I suspect they eat meat but even if they don’t, they will,” she replied rationally.
“So?” I replied irrationally, as I had done, all my life, before my mother died and after, anytime I saw something I wanted and I wanted that something bad. “I eat meat too.” I returned irrationally.
“You don’t kill it and chew it raw off the bone,” she retorted.
This was true.
I bit my lip and looked at the animals.
Then one of them loped to the side of the pen, sat on its behind, looked up at me and made a noise I swear, I swear, I understood as “Loolah” which, I had learned from Sheena that day, in Korwahk meant “Mama”.
My body went still and I stared at the creature.
“Oh dear,” Diandra muttered, I looked at her and I knew she heard it to.
“Did that… did that…” I swallowed, looked at the cub and back at Diandra, “did that baby tiger just –?”
Another mew from the tiger cub which I understood again as Loolah.
I took a step back.
Holy moly, the animal was speaking to me.
Diandra sighed, reached out and grabbed a boy running by, spoke swiftly to him, the boy peered up at me and dashed away, darting through the crowds.
I paid little attention to this. I was staring at the cub.
“That creature called me Loolah,” I whispered.
Another noise which meant another Loolah then another noise that I heard as “gahsee” and Diandra spoke to the man which meant she heard it too. He moved, bent, opened the lid on something that was sunk into the ground and came out with a bottle made of wavy glass with a weird kind of nipple on the end and that bottle was definitely filled with milk.
“Gahsee,” Diandra whispered to me, “means hungry.”
The creature was speaking to me!
I could hear baby tigers talk to me in this world!
How bizarrely, amazingly, fantastically cool!
The man came back to us, bent over the pen, scooped up the tiger cub, turned and without hesitation dumped her in my arms. I automatically held on as he jerked the bottle to me.
“Oh dear,” Diandra muttered again as I looked down at the baby tiger in my arms.
All I felt was the soft, thick fur of the cub, the pads of its cute, fluffy paws. All I saw was her proud nose and rounded ears and beautiful, pale blue eyes looking up at me with complete trust.
Oh shit. I was in love.
I turned the cub in my arms, took the bottle from the man and offered it to the baby tiger.
Her big, pink tongue lashed at the nipple then she started to feed.
Yep. Totally in love.
I turned shining eyes to Diandra. “Honey, I’m so freaking totally in love,” I whispered.
Her eyes moved over my face then she looked at Sheena and whispered, “Oh… dear.”
Sheena giggled.
I dropped my head back to the cub, cradled her and rocked slightly side to side.
“Casper?” I called experimentally and the cub just sucked, eyes closed. “Ghost?” I called and the cub’s eyes opened then slowly closed again. “There it is then,” I decided in a quiet voice. “You’re my Ghost.”
Five minutes later, when the bottle was nearly drained dry, I heard hoof beats, my head came up and I belatedly felt that the vibe in the marketplace changed.
I turned my head and knew why.
Lahn was galloping our way on his big bay stallion complete with a glossy black mane and tail and black around all four hooves and partly up his legs.
I took a step back as he galloped toward me and reined the horse in at the last minute, jerking him to the side so Lahn could get close, turn his head and stare down his nose at me.
I looked up at my husband in the broad daylight, a sight I’d never seen.
He had a fabulous chest. It was huge but it was well-defined and I could see my nail marks had scabbed over under his shoulder. Ditto in regards to the huge, well-defined and fabulous parts when it came to his shoulders. The muscles of his thighs could be seen through his hides. Gorgeous brown skin everywhere. Thick, black facial hair with pointy beard at the chin held by a gold band that was strange but it was also cool. Hair pulled back in a thick braid that probably went nearly to his waist but was now dangling over his massive shoulder, also held by a gold band. Strong brow that jutted attractively over his eyes. Heavy, black eyebrows. Fabulous cheekbones. Deep set piercing dark brown eyes. Full, grooved lips surrounded by his beard.
Totally hot.
And the look he was giving me was totally ferocious.
It was clear to see he was not best pleased he’d been interrupted in whatever kings of savage hordes did during the day and called to the marketplace because his new bride had fallen in love with a baby tiger.
I took another step back.
Then I remembered who I was.
In my world, I was Circe Kaye Quinn, the office manager of her father’s moving company, unlucky at love (something I tried, twice, had long term relationships with guys I thought were the ones that ended (twice) so I knew I was unlucky in love) but beloved by family and friends.
Here, I was not an office manager. I was the Golden Warrior Queen and The Tigress and I was wearing a kickass outfit.
So I needed to suck it up and not be so scared of this guy. He could hurt me, he already had, more than once, and I survived.
So… fuck it.
I pulled in a deep breath and lifted my chin at the same time I lifted up the cub an inch.
“This is Ghost,” I introduced her. “She’s our new pet.”
Lahn scowled at me.
“Erm,” Diandra stepped forward then said a bunch of stuff I didn’t understand but my guess was, she was interpreting for me.
His eyes didn’t leave my face and his glower didn’t leave his.
“I’m bringing her home. You’ll need to give this man some… um, coin,” I jerked my head back to indicate the tiger man.
Diandra spoke again and Lahn kept scowling.
“She’s sleeping in bed with us,” I declared, Diandra translated (haltingly this time), the scowl grew dark or, I should say, darker.