Murder Mittens (Magical Romantic Comedies #13) - R.J. Blain Page 0,116

were curious, pixie dust does turn you into a lion-hunting fiend, your words. That was part of why I was evicted from the hotel for your treatments. You kept trying to hunt me, and unless I left the building, you would not be deterred. I enjoy being the king of your jungle.”

I bet he did. “Was it as good for me as it was for you?”

“With you that high on pixie dust? You were just fine. How do you like it?”

I regarded my new face. “Nobody is going to flinch anymore, Sebastian.”

“I expect you’ll get catcalls, because everyone will now see what I’ve known all along. You’re beautiful.”

I wondered how long it would be before I recognized my reflection in the mirror. “I won’t scare the kittens anymore.”

“No, you won’t. Are you ready to see your parents?”

“Well, now that they know I’ve had emergency surgery thanks to my boss, it’s probably a good idea. Can I hide behind you? I’m not sure what they’re going to say.”

“They’re going to ask how you afforded it, I’m sure.”

“I’ll just tell them I’m secretly an assassin, I kill people for a living, and that I moonlight as a customer service representative.”

“So, the truth?”

“They won’t believe me.” I giggled. “Me? Murder people for pay? Never.”

“You are a very bad kitty. In bad news, we’re going to have to have all of your presents shipped to my house, as there is no way they’re going to fit in the car.”

“No kidding. Any boxes I should take with me?”

Sebastian took hold of my arm and pulled me back into the sitting room, pointing at a white-wrapped box on the coffee table. “That one contains a ring, and I’m hoping when I grovel to you on my knees, you’ll agree to marry me despite lynxes not often marrying.”

“That’s an engagement ring?”

“There are two matching wedding rings in the box, too. Finding the perfect ring for you kept me busy when I had to make myself scarce.” Sebastian considered the other boxes, pointing at a wrapped clothing box. “That’s a sexy secretary outfit.”

“That goes in the car for certain. Where’s the box with your leash?”

To my astonishment, he pointed at a small, square box. “Cuffs, leash… close enough.”

“Meow, Mr. Mane.” I bounced to the box, picked it up, and tore into the paper, revealing the promised handcuffs, two pairs, with fuzzy wraps meant to keep confinement comfortable. “You are such a naughty kitty.”

“I’m not the naughty one if you’re the one handling the cuffs.”

Well, then. “To the bedroom, lion. Prepare to be ravished at my leisure.”

To keep my family from freaking out, we blitzed back home from Chicago. Sebastian handled most of the driving, as while I no longer needed the creams to keep my skin from returning to its scarred state, I lasted no more than two hours before I needed a nap.

My virus would need another few weeks to recover from an over-exposure to drugs, the operation, my lion-hunting ways, and the lynx-hunting ways of my lion. Per the CDC’s orders, Sebastian made a point of feeding me after every nap to help my virus replicate, and he limited his lynx-hunting ways to no more than once per day.

I loathed and abhorred everything about the CDC, and I would until they lifted my lion’s ban on lynx hunting.

After a full day of no love from my lion, we arrived at my parents’ house. I hissed and sulked in my seat. “This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Your mating season is in full swing, you’re insatiable, and you’ll have to suffer for another week. Your virus needs to recover. It’s just a week or two. Once your virus tests at stable levels, I will ravish you properly. Would roaring at you help?”

“Maybe.”

He turned his head and roared in my face. As always, I purred.

He stared at me.

Idiot that I was, I kept on purring.

“Better?”

I thought about it. “Much, actually.”

“You can hide behind me for five minutes. After that, I’m tossing you to them. You’re beautiful with or without those scars, and you worked hard to get rid of them. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“They might hate it.” Worse, they might be angry at me for having gotten rid of them.

“They won’t hate you or your face. They’re not going to be angry at you, either. They’re going to be curious about where you got the money, as you didn’t sell your new Corvette to get the funds. And yes, you could have sold the car to

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