curled past his shoulders, tied back in a ponytail that had too many curls to make his hair lie flat. His eyes were green and yellow, and not human. That beautiful face-and for Micah it truly was beauty, not handsome, more delicate jawline, more slender-was only just masculine. The leopard eyes in that lovely face just added to the impact. He wore sunglasses most of the time to hide the eyes. He started to get the glasses out automatically when he glimpsed the man behind me.
"Don't bother hiding the eyes," Bennington said, "I saw the interview you did for the news. You're the head of the Coalition for Better Understanding Between Humans and Lycanthropes, and I know you're a wereleopard."
Micah stopped trying to fish his glasses out of his suit jacket pocket and just stepped in with a smile. "I believe if we keep hiding what we are, it just adds to the fear factor." He didn't offer his hand, because some humans didn't want to touch any part of you once they knew you were a shapeshifter. Bennington put his hand out, and Micah took it.
"Tony Bennington, this is Micah Callahan," I said.
They shook hands just like normal folks. It got Bennington a brownie point.
"Again, Mr. Bennington, I am sorry that I can't help you, but I urge you not to try to find someone else to raise your wife."
"It's my money; I can find someone who will take it."
"Yes, but no one will be able to give you back your wife. Trust me; a zombie is not the same thing, Mr. Bennington."
He nodded, and there was that glimpse of pain again. "I've already asked around, Ms. Blake; everyone said that if anyone can raise my Ilsa so she looks like herself and doesn't know she's dead, you are the only one to go to, and you've turned me down." He bit his lip again, that swell of muscle showing his control beginning to slip.
Micah said, "I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Bennington, but Anita is the expert on the undead; if she says it would go badly, I'd trust her."
Bennington 's gaze went straight to anger. He turned and put that gaze on Micah. "It's a terrible thing to lose the one you love, Mr. Callahan."
"Yes, it is," Micah said.
The two men looked at each other, Micah exuding that calm that helped him talk new shapeshifters down when they were about to lose control, and Bennington giving off that tightly wound rage. He turned back to me. "Is that your final answer: you won't help me bring her back?"
"It's the only answer I have, Mr. Bennington. I'm sorry that I can't help you."
"Won't help, you mean."
"I said what I meant-I can't."
He shook his head, over and over; his face was bleak, as if some light had gone out of him. Maybe it was hope; maybe I'd been his last hope and now it was gone. I would have given him back his hope, if I could have, but I honestly couldn't do what he wanted; no one could.
He turned and looked at the three men, slowly, then back to me. "Do you love them?"
I thought about telling him it was none of his business, but in the face of such pain, I told the truth. "Yes."
"All three of them?"
I thought about quibbling, that I love-loved Micah and Nathaniel, but loved Jason as a friend. The fact that I had sex with all of them sort of muddied the waters for most people, but the four of us were clear on how we felt about each other, and all of us knew that Jason was my friend first and everything else second. We were secure, so I gave the short answer: "I do."
He looked at all of us again, nodded once, and then opened the door. "I've never been able to love more than one person at a time. It would be easier if I could."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't bother. I tried to put my sympathy into my face, and let it go at that.
"Their being here with you proves that at least some of the tallest tales about you are true."
"You keep leaving me not knowing what to say, Mr. Bennington."
"I thought women always knew what to say."
"I don't."
"My wife was a very different kind of woman than you, Ms. Blake."
"I hear that a lot," I said.
"Please, help me get her back."
"I can't give her back to you, Mr. Bennington.