Page 8 of Cuddles for the Bear
“The thing is with this wretched business,” Michael said, “is that it’s really, really difficult for a man like me to indulge in this sort of business at all. I have very specific tastes in my…boys, that not everybody I deal with understands.”
Devon peered over his glass at the man. “Oh, not like that,” Michael said quickly. “The ladies love me far too much for me to be giving up that side of my life. I don’t want somebody warming my bed every damn night, curled around my feet like a damn puppy. My gods. It makes me shiver just to think about it.
“No, I mean, I need a specific type of person. As you know, people like us are so much hardier than...” He hesitated a moment and then chuckled. “Other beings, is the polite way of putting it, I suppose.”
It was already hard enough for Devon to keep his disgust to himself, and Michael wasn’t making it any easier. Devondidn’t have a problem with people who were non-paranormal. Why would he? He’d had a number of non-para acquaintances over the years, and in many cases, they were a lot easier to deal with because they didn’t come with the same posing and preconceived biases so many paranormals had.
“The people I work with are in the business of making unusual things happen,” he said. That was true. The assassins Devon worked with were very good at what they did.
Of course Michael took Devon’s words and made them fit his own frame of reference. “That’s a blessing in disguise. So you’re not going to have a hissy fit if I insist on another shifter child?”
Devon glanced around. He was already aware that the bar staff was busy and there was nobody close enough to overhear them above the noise of machines and people having a good time. The glance was more of a subtle reminder to Michael to watch what he was saying.
“No one can hear us.” A definite hiss came through Michael’s sneer. “You have no idea how difficult it is to find my specifics. Who knew that so many shifters treated their numerous offspring as if they were special?”
Devon quirked an eyebrow. Children were important, for paranormals and non-paras alike. For shifters, children were considered a blessing from the Fates. Of course they were going to be looked after.
“I got lucky with this last boy, I suppose, but that was a random coincidence more than anything else.” Michael’s chuckle was full of malice. “I doubt the people who took my money were even the boy’s parents. He was probably stolen from somebody else – goodness knows who - but it’s not like I cared either way.”
“That was remarkably risky behavior.”
“Not really. It’s not like the boy ever leaves the house. The assholes who had him took my money. I already had another house organized at a different location, so it was a simple matter of taking the boy and moving my shit. It’s not like anyone could find me or the boy after that.”
Swallowing down the bile that threatened to erupt, Devon said quietly, “You sound like you still have that boy. How long have you had him?”
“Too long.” Michael took a swig from his bottle and then swung his arm wide. “For goodness’ sake, that wasn’t intentional. It’s not like I haven’t been patient. I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited…”
Waited for what?Michael wasn’t making any sense. Devon decided to ask.
“I’ve been waiting for the boy to shift.” Michael leaned over the table, close enough that Devon could smell the champagne on his tongue. “I’ve had that boy since he was fourteen. He’s damn near what, twenty, twenty-five now? And he can’t fucking shift. Not once.”
A warning bell started ringing in the back of Devon’s mind. “Okay,” he said slowly. “But if this boy is just” – he tried to think of a word that wouldn’t reveal his emotions – “a servant, or home help, why does it matter if he can shift or not?”
Michael half turned in his chair, resting his elbow on the table. “I can hardly eat them if they haven’t shifted. My snake’s got a big mouth, but even he has limits,” he said out of the side of his mouth.
Devon put his glass down on the table. “I must have misheard you,” he said in a low voice. “Did you say, eat them?”
“Oh, yes.” Michael’s eyes gleamed.
No wonder the agency could never find any bodies.Clearly Michael felt Devon wasn’t showing the proper response. He elaborated.
“You see, there’ve always been issues surrounding these boys. Sourcing them and then getting rid of them. Authorities tend to get upset if dead bodies are left like discarded rubbish. I don’t know about you, but I don’t need that sort of aggro. When I’m tired of my latest boy, I’ll allow them to shift, or force them, because who cares, right? And then I shift right along with them, and my snake has a decent meal.”
Michael’s sigh was accompanied by a smile. “Happy days. I wallow for a couple of days in my shifted form, digest the meal, sell everything in my house, and move on. I’m sure someone like you understands discretion. It’s not like I can leave a body in the backyard. That’s just asking for trouble.”
Devon’s urge to grab Michael around the neck and strangle him was so strong, he quickly put his free hand under the table and gripped his thigh hard enough to bruise.Everyone’s intent on their own good time. They probably won’t even notice until he falls down dead, and even then, they’ll probably just think he was drunk.Cyrus’s face flashed in his head like a giant warning sign.
“Is this because of their age?” Devon asked, saying the first thing that came into his head as he desperately tried to deflect from Michael’s admission on why bodies hadn’t been found. “Do you have a ritual involved, perhaps related to the length of time you keep someone around or…” He trailed off, hoping Michael would fill in the blanks.
“No ritual. Who has the time for that sort of shit?” Michael shook his head. “Look, I’m sure you know about this sort of shit yourself.” Both of Michael’s elbows were on the table now, andhe was staring at Devon as though he were his best friend. Devon definitely didn’t feel that way.
“You know how it is when someone’s new,” Michael said. “They’re terrified, and they flinch every time you come into a room and there’s just something…there’s the smell, you see…the smell of fear. It’s so delicious, which is another reason why I also insist on smaller shifters, prey animals, you understand. There’s no point in getting myself a predator as a companion. That’s hardly going to work, is it?”
Devon grunted. He wasn’t interested in debating the man. But then he had a thought. “So, what type of shifter did you think your current boy was?”
Michael sneered and shook his head. “I wasn’t told specifically, just that he was a small shifter – rat, mouse, something. I don’t know. But I was assured that the boy was a prey animal. Initially, Wren acted exactly like that.”
His name is Wren.Devon nodded.
