Page 22 of Tattle Tail
“You are doing it incorrectly,” she said.
“Oh, am I?” His brows shot up. “And how am I supposed to do it?”
“Like…” Her voice faded as she struggled to find the words. Like the person he kissed carried his heart. Like he could not breathe without them. Like he had fire in his soul. “Like this.”
Her mouth captured his roughly. He opened for her, letting her sweep her tongue across his lips and into his mouth. His smooth tongue rubbed against hers. Satisfaction rumbled in her chest. Her fangs got in the way as she nipped at his bottom lip.
This. This was so much better.
She rose to her knees, pressing her body against his. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. Fists clenched and unclenched. She pressed them flat against his chest, then moved them down to his thighs, finally up to rest on his shoulders.
His hands worked under her shirt, brushing against the skin there. He stroked up and down her spine, mapping her curves. She suddenly needed to touch more of him. All of him. She craved skin. She wanted to lick, taste, and explore every part of him.
He stroked her tail.
Peaceable stiffened. That was too much. Too intimate.
“No?” he asked, pulling his hand away.
“Do not be so vulgar as to grab my tail in front of my parents,” she said, falling into the familiar safety of aloofness. She removed herself from his lap and smoothed down her shirt.
“Sure. I think we practiced enough for one night. If there’s nothing else, I’m heading home.”
Once he left, Nettle demanded her attention. Peaceable stroked Nettle’s soft fur, wondering how much of a mess her little lie created.
Chapter 7
Peaceable
The dark stone of the Daval house vanished into the night. The only source of illumination came from the round windows. Against the cold night, the windows seemed like eyes, watching her critically and finding fault.
This was her home and Peaceable had never felt such dread as she did coming up the walk.
Peaceable cradled the bakery box in her arms, mindful of her steps on the walk. It wouldn’t do to slip and drop the flaky pastries filled with nuts and honey. She went out of her way to go to her mother’s favorite bakery for the treats.
“Swanky place.” Joseph stomped his feet to dislodge snow from his shoes.
“It really is not,” she said. Her parents cared more for the appearance of a fine house—the manicured lawn, the lavish gardens—but the internal workings of the building struggled. The heating system failed to keep the stone house cozy in the winter. Peaceable much preferred her small apartment.
Tolerance opened the door. She glanced at Joseph but said nothing. She turned her critical gaze to Peaceable, who thrust out the box of pastries. Accepting the box without thanks, she said, instead, “You’re wearing that? It is unflattering.”
Peaceable picked at the collar of the Earth-style heavy woolen coat. It was not the normal wrap that Tolerance preferred, but it was warm.
“Good evening, Mrs. Daval. Thank you for the invitation,” Joseph said. He stuck out his hand in the human greeting.
“You may as well come in,” Tolerance said, ignoring his hand and stepping aside to let them pass.
Peaceable saw the foyer with a stranger’s eyes; the highly polished floor, the gleaming fixtures, and the pristine set of high-back chairs that were to be admired and never used for something as mundane as sitting.
“Peaceable, I require your assistance in the kitchen.” Tolerance did not wait for her response, heading directly to the kitchen.
“I will be there shortly. Let me get our guest settled,” Peaceable said.
“Well, at least we’re not late,” Joseph said, his voice quiet to keep the remark discreet.
In no great rush, they hung their coats in a closet. Bits of snow stuck in the bottoms of her shoes melted, ruining the perfect gloss on the floor. Peaceable did not care.
A fire blazed in the front room’s fireplace. This room suffered from the same stiff formality as the foyer, but the furniture was used for its intended purpose. Not that the chair near the fire was comfortable, but it was near the fire. A tea service waited on the sideboard. She touched the teapot, finding it warm.
