Greer sat down with the man who would be handling Ms. Loboman’s case from here out and sipped at his coffee.  He’d offered the guy some from the break room and had been refused.  A sign of wisdom, to be sure, but Greer had grown to love the caustic tar.  

The man was conducting a formal interview on the agent.  He’d been here for hours, recording everything on the highly secure data-slate he held as his buddies ransacked her apartment and went over every report she’d ever filed.  Finally, the agent seemed to runing out of questions and steepled his fingers lightly.

“These men, they have committed crimes in your city on three occasions.”

“My department has been fully cooperative.  You know as much about them as I do, now.”

“Actually, I know significantly more.  The last four times that we attempted to embed an agent with a pride, we received parts of them for several months after.  This one has never been infiltrated:  they can hear deep-tissue tracking devices even when they’re dormant, they can smell lies, and they can sense the training.  These monsters do not believe in prisoners or second chances.  Betrayal is rather an issue in the were-beast culture, especially after the attempted cleansing of the eighties.”

“So you’re saying my girl is dead.”

“I am saying that it would be wise to select a headstone, yes.  However, if she does manage to successfully integrate, I will need her to contact me.  As she will be contacting you, I will need to monitor your calls and, if it is safe to do so, I am going to need you to forward her communiques to my agency.”

“You are asking permission to bug my phones.”

“No, I am informing you that it is already done and, pursuant to the Sedition Act of 2018, that you may not speak out against it nor report it in any manner or we will have grounds to prosecute you with the full weight of the law.”

The man leaned forward, an eye-cam adjusting its focus with a very faint whirr.  Had either party thought to breathe, the sound would have been lost.  “Your connection to her may prove critical.  It is within my power to give you the honorary title of first handler.  Do you accept this token offer?”

Greer paused for a long time, considering his options here.  Working with the criminal proceedings branch of the CDC in any significant fashion would poison his standing with the precinct.  His chance for promotion, slim though it already was, would become non-existent.  On the other hand, he would sleep better at night knowing he was doing all in his power to see Penny home safely.  Gods, the CDC kept things shrouded in such mystery.  Had he known what he was sending the girl into, he never would have --

The phrase came to his mind and Greer smiled with gallows humor.  “I’m in.  Anything to get her out of the Lion’s Den.”

...

Sasha gazed at Kitten as the woman stared at her extra special, highly encoded accounts receivable journal  The way she kept paging through the records was unnerving in that it meant she was thinking about things that she didn’t wish to reveal.  

Finally, she glanced up.  Sasha leaned forward and, following the cues of her lioness, butted her head against the woman.  A smile, a returned gesture and then the unmistakeable scent of interest.  Sasha pulled the woman’s arm just a little closer, crawling over the small counter while moving the hanging pans like windchimes.  Kitten moved in as well, setting her encoded work aside to complete the chaste kiss.  Feeling a bit of tongue on her lips, Sasha pulled herself back.  

Kitten had not yet received the infection.  Though there was likely no harm in it now, she hadn’t had a choice in the matter and, well, logically it would cause her associate some degree of distress to become Moon-Touched without consent.  That and, well, Babier would very likely become upset.  He would never do her harm, she knew, but he might do things to show the pride his displeasure.  Since she’d stopped sharing his bed, he’d stopped assigning her with camp-finding duties.  

Dhalia stepped into the RV and looked very deliberately -- or so it seemed -- from Sasha to Kitten.  She then walked to the pantry and pulled out a loaf of rye bread, gesturing vaguely at the small refrigeration unit.  Kitten pushed her ledger into one of its hiding places and pulled out a jar of Mayo, a jar of local artisanal mustard, and a large packet of deli-meat.  From her side of the counter, Sasha pulled out a cutting board.  Between the three of them, enough sandwiches to satiate the pride were produced in what may have been record time.

Feeling curious, Sasha initiated conversation with Dhalia.  “Our guest, she has reverted back to a speaking form?”

“Yes.”

“Had she information of value?”

“In a way.  She works for them.  They wish us to pay a fee for our dear Chamomile’s release.  According to her, they will send a finger at four this afternoon on a small drone.  If we put five grand in a little baggie and tie it to the drone, they will release her.  If we do not, the drone will fly off and another finger will be sent an hour later.”

“Knowing our Cam, it’ll be the same one regrown.”

“Perhaps.  Of note, Rocket has stopped regenerating.  He is stable still and Levi seems to think he may pull through.”

“A liability but not a particularly onerous one.  If he only recovers a little, he can still tend to the phones.”

“True.  Finding a suitable replacement for Babier may be taxing.”

“Agreed.  It would be best if he recovered fully.”  A pause and a forced smile filled the kitchen.  “Perhaps a full recovery would not be necessary for this, either.  Babier can be perform most of the labors.”

“Yes.  Our guest, is she free to go?”

“No.  She is in an artificially induced near-coma to reduce stress and the chance that she do herself harm while she remains with us.  Levi and Andes are digging a containment pit as we speak.  As she is fairly weak, the floor shall be dirt.  Kitten, are our assets sufficient to spare five-thousand dollars as petty cash?”

“Yes.  A wire transfer would be easier for all parties involved.  If that is not acceptable, I am sure we can produce as much in non-sequential bills.”

“From her description of their base, technological know-how is at a minimum.  Physical items are likely best.”

“Good.  Standard procedure once the parcel is acquired?”

“There are no orders to the contrary.”

“Excellent.”

Satisfied that the conversation was over, Sasha set five sandwiches aside for the three of them and took the rest out on the cutting board.  Outside, Zinnie and Rosetta had strung a net across a few trees and were playing volleyball while Andes and Levi were down a pit and digging it out.  Seated in a wide-backed lawn-chair with a gun resting easy on his lap was the king.  In a smaller lawn chair and looking as petite as possible was a the messenger, minus the collar that had formerly decorated her throat.

Stepping over to the game, Rosetta approached first, followed by a petulant Zinnie.  Babier growled an order at Andes and the male dropped his shovel and took the king’s place, smiling in an easy-going way at the lycanthrope.  Levi reached the sandwiches first and nabbed one before being pushed out of the way by the much larger, much more aggressive Babier.  The ranks parted, naturally enough, and there was plenty enough to go around.

After everyone had taken a few sandwiches, the remaining six were given to the woman.  She took them cautiously and ate them ravenously.  Sasha smiled faintly and looked at her watch before heading back inside.  Of a like mind, Dhalia and Kitten were already going over the pride’s more militant equipment.

...

Babier carefully invested himself in the eating of the sandwiches.  The urge to tear the wolf apart, to race in and attack and maim and kill and excoriate every last one of those --

Levi’s hand on his shoulder was a welcome distraction from these thoughts.  He exhaled slowly and smiled, pulling the slighter man down into his lap.  Causing his body to purr, he nuzzled Levi and hugged him gently.  The man was nervous as anything after having dug the pit and with word that one of their own was being tortured.  Of course, it would be ill advised for them to do aught that might be hasty.  Like as not, they were being observed or, if not that, were being made to wait that they would be more irrational when the note came.

He bent over and pressed his lips to those of the subservient male, loving how tenderly this was reciprocated.  Levi’s arm wrapped lazily over Babier’s shoulder, the fingers playing with his hair, and Babier moved the man into a better position, spreading his legs such that the two were better situated to exchange token gestures of affection.  Pulling out of the kiss, he gazed down at the man’s eyes for a moment before lightly bumping forehead to forehead and letting his supporting arm --

“Ch ahem.”  Raising his eyes slowly and with a partial snarl, Babier forced himself not to draw claws.  Mine. He knew he radiated the intention.  Carefully, so as not to cause undue alarm, he focussed on not shifting to the form of his auspice and regarded his torturer and moderately decent sniper.  She met his gaze and growled faintly before turning her profile to him and speaking clearly such that the entire camp could hear.

“I want sex.  With you.”

As was often the case when she made such demands, she smelled neither deceitful nor aroused.  Babier shrugged and considered telling her he was busy.  It didn’t seem a good idea and, possibly, she just wanted a distraction from the bone-grinding anxiety of waiting.  She wore her standard side-arm, a pistol strapped with elastic to each leg, and four knives that he could see.  That aside, she wore baggy camo pants and a black camisole with bright rhinestones in a heart pattern and her three-inch long hair was dyed a very bland shade of brunette.  All his girls were natural blondes -- he made a point of that, actually, with Rocket being the only exception -- and all were, by now, quite dangerous.  He weighed his options and stood, steadying Levi as he did, before bracing his legs and tensing a little.

“As you like.  Here or the trailer?”

“Trailer.  Zinnie’s playing lookout with Sasha.”

Glancing about, he nodded his assent.  With the day-to-day affairs, he’d found it was generally best to trust the women to manage things.  Much though it had been a blow to his ego to admit it, they were generally better at fine-tuning and implementing plans than he was.  Oh, he could fight better than anyone and he was certainly top notch at finding and orchestrating jobs but a wise leader allowed those under him to flourish.  He shrugged and waited for Dhalia to initiate this game.  He waited for about three minutes while she nerved herself up for it.

“Dhalia, you are under no obligation.  You are one of my finest lionesses and my respect for you remains undiminished.”

“Bullshit.”  She stormed foreward and head-butted him hard enough to be painful and likely hard enough that, had he been human still, one of his ribs would have broken.  She then pivoted and strode toward the largest RV.  About ten feet from the door, she spun and glared.  “Coming?”

Babier mentally sighed while, outwardly, he gave her a lusting look and forced his scent to indicate he was interested.  The woman was fit and moved well, had plenty of endurance and was deliciously hippy.  Her short hair was soft as rabbit fur.  He liked her intensity in the field and her no-nonsense approach to social matters was generally appreciated.  In courtship, however, she tended to play the Titanic to his Iceburg.  That, well, there was nothing wrong with an assertive woman.  Heck, he preferred it if a lass knew what she wanted.  There was, however, something very off-putting about treating sex the same as haggling at a gun-dealership.

“Sure, Sweetheart.”

He strode forward, letting his form shift, just a little, to augment the way his muscles moved and to fill in his mane a little.  He’d tried being soft and gentle and nurturing with her a few times and it always ended with her demanding to know why he insulted her so.  Well, there was the one time she’d called him inadequate and shot him three times in the chest.  Since then, he’d taken to playing the role of violent and commandeering alpha male for her.  She’d be a little nervous but at least no one got shot or stabbed.

Ugh.  Dhalia was crazy quick with her knives, too.  All the girls were, for that matter, though only Dhalia and occasionally Sasha drew them in the bedroom.  Reaching her, she slammed her head into his kidney, flashed her teeth at him in what was probably meant to be a smile, and turned sharply, quick-stepping to wrench open the door.  The RV, parked in the shade and with Kitten’s home-made evaporation cooling system at work between two open windows, was a welcome fifteen degrees cooler than the outside air.  Babier glanced back, keeping his expression carefully superior, and vaguely wished that Andes could take the fall on this one.  The lion in his mind began to rise, ready to mark Andes for death or banishment, and he shut it down fast and hard.  

Instead, he caught up with Dhalia and lightly caressed the back of her neck.  She turned to him with a snarl and began to shift toward the Warrior’s Form.  It was not her natural form, she having been chosen by the auspices of near-beast.  This meant Babier easily shifted into his native form well before she managed even to properly get her ears and claws done.  He calmly pinned her to the mattress, keeping her claws from digging into the comforter via the simple expedient of placing them behind her head, and growled close to the back of her neck.

She froze as he extended his jaw and touched both top and bottom fangs around the sides of her neck.  Smiling, he eased her up on the bed such that she wasn’t just bent over the edge and gentled nosed her back a little.  She continued the shift and he growled again, making no half-promises about what he wanted.  He wouldn’t hurt her -- neither side of his mind was okay with that -- but taking a set of claws to the face was not on his top list of things to do today.

The reaction was slower than he would have liked as she settled her half-formed joints into place.  It smelled like it hurt, though she didn’t act like she was pained.  Carefully rising above her, he caught her shirt at the back with a claw.

“No.  I like this shirt.”

Babier gazed down at her with a brow raised.  She was agitated if she’d forgotten how rough things generally went.  He calmly plucked her side-arm from her waist and reached forward to set this on the headrest, then, with just as much equanimity, he removed the various knives she kept in easy grabbing range and set these neatly beside the gun.  He pulled his own weapon free of its holster and, checking the safety, tossed it very carefully on a small stack of smutty magazines.  He made a note to grouse at Andes for leaving his mess in the room later, instead turning his attention to pulling all weapons from his lioness.  When he finished, he spoke with a gentle, accommodating tone to his voice.

“As you like.  I will release you now.  Behave.”  

She squirmed over immediately and backed away.  He watched her closely, ready to pounce if she made a play for her nine.  While it was doubtful the lead bullets would kill him, being shot was even lower on his list of priorities than being clawed about the face.

Seeming to sense the intense scrutiny, she pulled off her shirt and bra, her small breasts jiggling in that cute way they always did.  There was nothing pretty or inherently graceful in the way she stripped, though that was a part of Dhalia’s charm.  She carefully folded the shirt and pulled off her boots, thick socks, and pants, leaving the black silk lace on and plucking at this while she stood beside the bed.  Usually, she wanted to fuck with her boots on and her pants just lowered a little.  This was something new.  Babier scented the air, opening his mouth to fully taste the aromas.

“You are angry.”

“We should just attack.  This waiting for an exchange, it is illogical.”

“It is business.  If they are professionals, we should treat them as such.”

“I hate it.”

Babier considered sitting on the bed and encouraging her to sit beside him.  Had it been anyone else -- possibly not Sasha or Benji -- he would have done so.  Dhalia, however, required a different approach.  She usually valued and respected shows of strength and reasoned responses.  Everything had to be treated as a transaction.  Sex meant he would be kinder to her.  Disobedience meant he would be gruffer with her.  A given input meant a calculable output.  The threat of death lay close to open acts of sedition.  When a soul was banished, he brought her along to pay the bounty to whomever had killed the errant member.  

“Yes, I can understand why.  There is no evidence that they are professionals.  A drone leaves little to track.  You took two bullets during our last engagement and, though you are still capable of fighting, our decreased numbers, lack of time for recovery, and recent untested addition leaves our pride more vulnerable than usual.”  Pausing, he considered his next offer carefully.  She stared at him without blinking and without emotion, waiting for him to propose they mate quickly and get the formality over with.  That would be, well, physically stimulating for both of them while at the same time quite unpleasant.  He stalked closer to her, letting the predator glint through his eyes and, very briefly, mark her for prey.

“My king?”  She was looking at the spread of weapons and weighing her chances of reaching these in time.  Good.  A little bit of fear was probably what she’d expected was a proper price for his admissions.  

“My lioness?”

“I’ve changed my mind.  Both our bodies would be better served with rest.  Perhaps I will come for you later.”

“As you like.  I was only in the mood to watch your body churn for me.  Rigorous activity would be, as you claim, ill advised.”  Babier held still and waited.  Dhalia was flighty which meant she was dangerous.  Her flight reflex translated directly into a frenzied charge.  It was great in that she felt no remorse or guilt after her actions, making her extremely valuable in the field.  In copulatory scenarios, however, caution was always wisest.

She seemed to process this new option fully before stepping forward and lightly putting her forehead forward.  Stooping, Babier met the gesture tenderly.  She placed her hand flat against his shirt and he felt the budding claws dig into his flesh, drawing a few droplets of blood.  He made his body purr and concentrated on the moment, letting his scent wash over the room.  She rubbed her cheek and the side of her neck over his right pectoral muscle and he felt the rumbled response.  

“Would you use a toy?”

“If you like.”

Babier put a hand on the back of her neck and gently cradled her to his chest as he opened a side-drawer and pulled rifled through the collection of sterilized toys.  Ah, yes, the rotating one with the internal heater and the base pulse vibrations.  Zinnie had liked that one so much, he’d picked up three more.  He flicked it on to test the batteries and smiled as the device whirred to life.  He turned off the vibration and let it heat up a bit, reaching around her back to toss it on the bed.  Another few similar toys found their way onto the comforter and he picked her up and carefully walked on his knees to the center of the bed.  Laying her down, he placed a hand against her abdomen, lightly stroking the seemingly microscopic hairs there.

“You’ve more abdominals than me.”  He let his fingertips drift over the edges of her skin as she tensed under him.  He’d been her king for over a decade now and still she wasn’t comfortable letting down her guard.  “I love that you are so strong.”  He reached for the headboard and emptied one of her clips, placing the magazine on the wood.  Checking that there was still one in the barrel, he lay this by her side.  “It is best if you are relaxed.  Do not shoot me this time and, next time, I will allow you two bullets.”  He smiled down at her, sculpting his features to be condescending.  She bridled at that and slashed his arm.

Relaxing, he let his own blood coat the top of her stomach and then her thigh as she raised a knee defensively, eyeing him warily as she turned a little and grabbed the weapon.  He started toward her foot and smelled the fear on her.  Retreating, he kept his palm still on her knee as the slash finally started to heal over.  “You are of my pride, yes?”

She nodded.

“Then you may be at ease.  I have no intentions to do you great harm.  Now, it is my pleasure to see your body content.  What is the best method by which I may achieve this today?”  Babier smiled down at her, showing a partial change and his enlarged canines.  As seeing these seemed to calm her a little, he let the bone-spurs on his back and shoulders form a bit more fully, leaving him a scaled-down variant on his Warrior’s Form.  As she relaxed yet further, he understood her fear was a generalized worry regarding attack.  She wanted him to defend her above others of the pride, to risk others to make sure she remained safe.  Understanding her motives for having come to him in such a manner, he began to relax into the moment.  His pride might be strange in some respects but he commanded respect for negating internal strife through the careful cultivation of relationships.  Meeting this need, or being seen to meet it, would be easy enough.  Rosetta wouldn’t mind and Zinnie would likely see it as a game if he played the knight for Dhalia this respite.

“I would like to watch you.”  Her expression was still calculating and Babier calmly moved all the weapons on the headboard to the far side before helping her to crawl into place.  He growled at her to stay and crossed to the bathroom, making a show of plucking his weapon from where he’d tossed it and flicking the safety off.  He retrieved a hand-held mirror and returned, his weapon finding her chest as he scanned the headboard to verify she hadn’t reached for any knives or additional guns.  With a faint snarl toward the door, he set his weapon down and bounded forward, feeling his muscles roll over each other as they placed his body in its most predatory form.  

Rising above her, he set the mirror by her side and stretched out a little, letting her see him take pleasure in looking at her.  Carefully, he extended his tongue and licked his own blood from her knee, moved to her abdomen for another two full and sweeping strokes, and withdrew.  She was holding the gun on him but, thankfully, it was aimed at his chest.  He smiled and leaned forward a little, letting himself be exposed, and grinned as her hand pulled the hammer back.  He backed off and sat in crouched in front of her, watching as her eyes dilated and her breath grew shallow.  She moved a little and carefully set the gun under the pillow behind her, waiting for him to make the next move.

Gently, making an artistry of the movement, he drew a claw alongside the cloth at the hip of her panties.  The fabric parted for him and he purred as he repeated this on the other side, gently pulling the fabric away.  He kept his eyes on hers, fierce and predatory, and lowered his face to lick between her legs.  Concentrating, he turned his expression from craving to possessive, watching her light up and start to thrill to the sensation.  Ah, yes, she was worried over the coming battle and wished his exclusive protection.  

Rising after a few moments, he pressed the warmed toy to her and turned it on, bringing the edge to her lightly hooded clitorous.  She moved, then, and he let her see his approval.  Moving the vibrator down, he played with the idea of pushing it into her, only to lean forward over her relaxing body and setting his lips against her own, down-shifting his face and tongue just enough to…  ah, and now she parted her lips for him and he kissed her deeply, pushing his tongue in even as she matched him, tasting and exploring.  As she withdrew, he lingered and was not surprised when she bit down a little.  This, though, this was a flirtatious drawing of blood.  He softened his eyes and set a claw-bedecked hand rest on her rib cage, just over her heart, and purred such that the sound reverberated through them both.  Withdrawing, he moved the warm piece of silicon up and played it along her inner legs, knowing the sensation would bring just that slight hint of danger to her body while her mind relegated it as harmless.

Carefully, he reached into one of the headboard cupboards and pulled out a small packet of single-use lubricant and, opening the packet with his teeth, he squeezed the contents back into his palm with thumb and forefinger.  He then played at the top of her lower lips for a few moments, letting her body know that it was supposed to be enjoying this.  Her skin flushed with blood in response and he smiled, pulling the vibrator away and, turning it off, he ran it through his palm a few times, letting her mind visualize the action that was to come as he coated it in a fine layer of toy-appropriate medium.  Her eyes were gorgeous, shifting from human to lioness and back in pastel washes.  Her tight niples were a deep shade of pink and her pulse thrummed at her throat, though it was no longer fear that drove her heart.  

He moved the toy down along her nethers, placing the base near her most wondrous pearl and pulling the length of the shaft down along this before angling to press just a little bit inside her.  With his other hand, he pulled out a small vibrating ring and slipped this onto a thumb, feeling around with the tip of the toy for the… yes, there it was.  Her eyes grew unfocused and her spine started to arch.  He played the tip around, retreating with a lessened vibration and returning with an increase and a gentle tap of his thumb to her outer stimulus.  Leaning over her with his other hand, he pressed down on her lower belly, pushing her organs lightly into contact instead of stretching her from the inside.

Now there was no need for the lubricant and he played a more traditional pattern for a few moments before trading out the one toy for another.  This one was thinner but had a distinctive pattern of ridges.  He carefully pushed her to the end of her endurance and played the cords until, blessedly and at long last, her body began twitching at the overload of stimulation as her orgasm clamped down around the toy, the muscles gripping fiercely.  

Waiting patiently with the vibrator set to low, he eventually pulled out with the one and swapped it for a much softer plastic.  Instead of jumping in immediately, he pressed his thumb-ring to her sacred guardian and leaned over to lick at first one breast and then the other, suckling a little and nibbling without pressure.  Her hands, now decidedly human, raked his chest through his shirt, coming just shy of drawing blood.  He smiled and purred deeply at this response, forcing his body to emit scents of intense pleasure.  With any luck, Dhalia would come to him more often and, perhaps, would learn to trust him or at least to relax and be genuine in his presence.

Pulling up from this, he settled his forehead against hers and loved the sensation of her rubbing her neck and shoulder against him.  She was beginning to smell less aggressive and more, gods, she smelled exotic, like spices and musk and perfection.  He pulled back and pushed the softer toy in, giving her exterior senses a break as he massaged her belly with his free hand.  

Glancing at her hand as it quested, he chuckled in a sotto pitch, the sound a secret for just the two of them.  When she found the mirror, he carefully positioned his hand such that she would have an unobstructed view of what he was about.  Reaching up, he ran his fingers along her side and to the back of her head.  She tensed slightly and he released her, instead moving such that her rump rested on both his knees and her legs straddled him.  He knew he was ready enough to take her, that her body was rip-roaring and ready to go, but that had not been part of the negotiations.  Instead, he kept her poised there and played his free hand on the inside of her thigh, occasionally going lower to tease the small of her back and push just a little bit lower.

Finally, finally, some dozen full-body reactions later and perhaps a score of partial ones, he relented.  Instead of backing away immediately, as was their normal game, he retrieved her knives, set these where she could easily reach them, shifted back closer to full-man, and gazed at her as though doting.  Normally, sex meant Dhalia acted angry if her body enjoyed the process.  Like as not, she considered it a show of weakness on her part.  He wanted her to be comfortable with the process, though, so he let her feel she’d earned extra by enjoying the sensations.

Panting, she pulled her gun out and cuddled it, finding a blade for her other hand in short order.  Babier leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek, feeling the barrel press into the underside of his jaw as he did.  He finished the kiss and withdrew, laying with easy contentment as though nothing had been threatened.  She was still panting and, on trying to rise into a full sit, she found that her muscles were quite uncooperative.  

A knock at the door had Babier jamming his hand through the cupboard to select a hidden revolver and point this straight at the face of the interloper.

Levi yelped and fell back into the hallway, his scent wafting as the door opened.  Beside him, Dhalia’s aim was true and steady.  Smiling, he leaned over and licked her cheekbone.  “Get dressed.  I’ll take care of it.”

His lioness slunk over the edge of the bed, crouching as she took the cover afforded and pulled her pants down from the counter.  Shaking his head, Babier took her clip and the two smaller guns and set these at the edge of the bed closer to her before padding calmly down the hallway.  With a flick, he reactivated his ear-piece and listened to what felt like a never-ending stream of information and petty observations.

Levi was carefully standing by the door to the RV, clearly ready to bolt if the need seemed pressing.  Babier stopped about five paces away and squared his chest, waiting for his maned female to choose a course of action.  

With scent and the slightly lowered face and obvious paused flinch, it was clear enough that Levi was trying to be friendly yet, at the same time, was intensely unsure of his standing. Babier relaxed and closed the distance, carefully giving the signals that he was welcoming of the male.  Levi nearly fell to tears as he rubbed first his chest and then his side against Babier, his entire posture all but shouting his relief.

Catching Levi gently, he returned the gestures of affection and forced his body into the partial shift that allowed for him to purr.  He then led Levi back to the bedroom and let him climb into his usual place on the bed, leaning on his side in this case.  Dhalia was fully dressed and just fussing with the fit of her holsters as they came in and flicked her ear sharply to activate the communicator, clearly worried she’d missed some sort of big news.  

Babier frowned over at her, though he was careful to keep the gesture non-threatening.  She shrugged and began to step around the bed.  With precise timing, Babier growled at Levi as the lioness passed close, letting her know that he was still feeling possessive.  He could smell her approval as she sauntered along, pausing to briefly rub against him.  With a gentle smile, Babier rubbed against her as well, smiling as her spine swiveled in relaxed response.

Waiting for her to leave the RV and close the door behind her seemed an eternity, though he knew his patience bought her trust.  Finally, he crawled over the bed and, shifting such that his shirt strained and ripped a little more, he groomed Levi’s mane and shoulder.  The male smiled up at him and batted playfully before rising a little and pressing for more affection.

This, he smiled as he pulled Levi’s shirt free, this was much less complicated.  “You came in for a reason, love?”

“Yes.  The, um, the pit is dug, our guest is sleeping at the bottom with a whole lot of drugged meat and cheese beside her, and we’re expecting the drone imminently.”

Ah.  Babier licked up Levi’s spine, feeling a faint bit of regret that he lacked the time to do more than a light bit of grooming.  “How long was I here with her, pet?”

“About two hours, almost three.  She smelled happy.  Well, happy for her, at any rate.”

“None of your business.”  Babier let a touch of snarl hit his tone, smiling at how passive Levi portrayed himself in response.  He stroked his back with his tongue once more and rubbed against the back of Levi’s head, loving the feel of the long locks under his skin.  “If it is soon to come, we should be soon to have our Chamomile back.”  Dragging himself away from what promised to be a delightful diversion, he stretched and heard his spine pop in a dozen places.  Shifting to near-human form was taxing, though he called the strength of his pride quite readily and so bypassed the incipient exhaustion.

“Levi, do ask Benji how our newest acquisition has done today.”

...

Kitten knew the danger signs as well as anyone.  Babier was going to clear out the rabble from that den with force and at speed.  The leaders, however, they were going to die slow.  The few that were left alive would live in pain for all the rest of their days as they danced in cages for cruel masters.  There would be nothing left save horrors.

On the plus side, if any of their number could survive without a heart, it was Chamomile.

The king held the thing carefully, tenderly, as though he wished to put it back into her chest.  Kitten cleared her throat and Babier seemed to snap out of his moment of intense grief, drawing a silver-edged blade over the surface of his skin and letting a thin stream of blood wash over the unwrapped organ.  It beat twice and stilled, then beat again.  He handed it to Rosetta and the woman, tears streaming down her eyes, retreated to the house with it.  Likely, she would put it in a proper hemlock box with brass hinges in case it was all we were able to recover for burial.

With an expression that left Kitten incredibly thankful to be on his side and not neutral or against, Babier pressed his left palm to the back of his right wrist, bypassing all silencing nodules and amplifying the volume by a thirtieth of a dicible.  As the speakers were in the inner ear-canals, this was a significant increase in volume..

“We move to war.  Kitten, you and Rosetta are to take down the encampment, spread us by thirds.”  Kitten nodded, already fully aware of the backup sites and mentally preparing to tear down and move out.  “Sasha, Dhalia, grab Benji and the new girl.  Apparently she’s a ringer with a gun at close range.  Levi, Andes, you’re with me.  Zinnie, I need you to take a bike and make some noise.  Catch Chamomile’s scent if you can and bare down toward it.  Do not get caught; your job is to panic the herd, not hunt it.”

His instructions issued, Kitten watched Babier storm toward the smallest RV, toward where Rocket recuperated.  Jogging to keep abreast of him, she resolved to bar his path if he moved to cull the injured male.  She slipped in ahead of him and crouched over the groggy form and waited.

Babier closed the door quietly and they both heard Sasha barking out specific orders with regard to weapons and necessary equipment.  He knelt down beside Rocket and Kitten felt herself relax a touch.  

“Rocket, wake up or I’ll kill you.”  The voice was dead, bereft of any emotion.  Kitten had seen her king like this only a few times before, usually when there were outside stressors.  The male opened his eyes and squirmed a little until Babier set a hand gently on the prone man’s chest, stilling him at the contact.  “Rocket, I need you to contact our old clients in the chimera business.  Tell them there may be a few specimens on the market.  Tell them these will be offered at a steep discount.  Tell them --” Babier looked up at the ceiling for a long time with an expression akin to boredom.  “Tell them that the silver inlay is not to be removed but the price is shipping and one grand as a courtesy for the batch.”

Kitten watched Rocket struggle to nod and rasp out his assent.  Babier froze and gazed calculatingly at Rocket for a few moments, as though weighing the merits of leaving him behind.  He glanced toward the front of the RV where the steering wheel was covered in black leather with silver lacing and relaxed, clearly determining that it would take no extra effort to leave him here on the floor with his electric blankets, general padding, and saline drip suspended from the ceiling.

Rising with her king, Kitten watched him prowl over to his coalition, inspecting Andes and Levi critically as Zinnie buzzed off on the Kawasaki Ninja, a trail of smoke clearly marking her route.  The three males did yet another once-over inspection, pulling their break-away flack jackets into place, and began loping off after her while Dhalia pulled on a heavy kevlar and nanite-woven titanium protection bands.  Sasha was getting the full arsenal loaded into the silver SUV and neatly stowed.  The vehicle was mostly ready to go, so there was no need to help with that.  Kitten listened to the chatter and heard Benji gripe at Kelly to get a move on, clearly having forgotten that he was holding his wrist.

Rosetta called to her to help with the solar panels and Kitten realized she had a great deal of work to do.  Darting over, she climbed up and began unhooking the alternator and other equipment before climbing the tree with the relay signal nestled into it and lowering this down.  By the time, a few moments later, that Rosetta had the firmly in hand, Sasha and Dhalia were kicking up gravel as they drove the loaded silver and mostly-empty black SUV’s and hauled tail down to the rendezvous point as had been agreed upon.  The black would be stashed in a parking lot somewhere and meant one less trip in the move.

The camp was designed to be taken down quickly so it was no more than thirty minutes later that Kitten sat behind the driving wheel of the smallest RV while Rosetta, wearing thick safety gloves under her leather welding ones, pushed the last pylon of silver-coated rebar between the bars of the cage and dropped a dark green tarp over the top of this.  She would remain behind for a few minutes to shovel the pile of dirt over the tarp and would head out in the largest.  A cell phone was grasped by a straining Rocket as Kitten heard him make the first of many calls.

Next Chapter: Incipient Preludes and Final Preparations