“Since I’ve already turned her down for sex, nothing,” Nicky said.
“You didn’t mention that,” I said.
He gave me a look. “If I want to sleep with one of the women, then I’ll mention it.”
“Damn it,” Lita said, softly.
We all looked at her. “You have something to share with the rest of the class?” I asked.
She actually blushed; so she could be embarrassed, good to know. “I thought all your men came running to you if another woman propositioned them, but you didn’t even know.”
I looked at Nicky. “I take it that Lita offered.”
“She wanted to fuck, yeah.”
My face must have shown what I thought of his wording. “That was pretty much what she said, actually.”
I looked at Lita. She almost squirmed and then fought it off. “What, I’m supposed to be all romantic and shit? I like big handsome men, and I like sleeping with the biggest, baddest man I can find.”
“I’m bigger than Nicky, and I’m a wererat like you; why you going outside the rodere for lovers?” Dino asked.
“I don’t have time for lovers, I just want fuck buddies,” she said.
“Okay,” Dino said, “question still stands. Why you looking outside the wererats for the biggest, baddest fuck buddies?”
Lita shook her head. “You’re bigger, because you started out bigger, but Nicky’s got the muscles, and that’s what I like.”
“So if I hit the weights more, I’d qualify as a fuck buddy?”
She looked at him then, really looked at him. He might not be her cup of tea, but he was another wererat and he had the trust of a lot of important people, including their king, Rafael.
“Sorry, Dino, but muscles won’t make you as bad as Nicky.”
Dino looked behind him at the other man. “I think I’m insulted.”
Nicky grinned, and rolled his one eye. When I could see his whole face, the eye that wasn’t there would try to roll along with the other eye. It was like muscle memory.
“Not by me,” he said.
Dino turned back to Lita. “So you like the really bad boys?”
She nodded, smiling.
“If your lovers are the biggest and baddest, then you’re safer,” Kelly said.
“I can take care of myself,” Lita said.
Kelly swallowed hard and said, “No you can’t; neither can I. We can kill them, but if it’s just fight after fight, size matters, upper body strength matters. I hate it, I fucking hate it, but Magda is teaching me all over again that I’m not that big, not even for a woman. She’s got those long arms, and she’s just getting in my guard, before I can get inside hers.” She was starting to sway, ever so slightly.
“How bad are you hurt?” Nicky asked.
“I hide my weakness. I am lion. I am strong. I am . . .” She fell slowly to her knees, catching herself with one hand.
I went to help her, but she said, “NO!”
I knelt back from her, not sure what to do. “Kelly, I’m sorry, you should have said something.”
“There’s nothing you can do, Anita. I’m weak, you can’t change that.”
“You aren’t weak,” I said.
“Yeah, I am.”
“No,” I said, “you’re strong, Kelly.”
“Not strong enough,” she said, and her eyes were shiny with the tears she was trying not to cry.
I reached out but didn’t touch her. I wanted to hold her, tell her I was sorry and that it would be all right, but she didn’t need false comfort, and that’s what it was, because unless there was a loophole in lion culture, she was going to lose to Magda unless the other lioness was hurt enough to give up the fighting.
Kelly started to shiver. I was pretty sure it was more shock than the cooler temperature of the underground, but I took off my suit jacket anyway. She protested, but I put it around her shoulders. “Just take the jacket, at least let me do that.”
She looked up at me, eyes lingering on my arms. “How can you wear so many dresses and shirts that show all your scars? It shows that you’ve lost fights, that you’re weak. No lion would ever do that,” Kelly said.
I looked down at my bare arms as if I hadn’t really looked at them before, and in a way I hadn’t. I’d long ago given up on covering the scars I’d acquired on the job. I looked down at my arms. There was a mass of scar tissue at the bend of my left arm where a vampire had tried to eat his way through it, through me, not because he could eat solid food, because he couldn’t, but just to hurt. The cross-shaped burn scar below that on my forearm was a little crooked now because the claws of a shapeshifted witch had cut me. Her little mini-coven had killed lycanthropes in full animal form and used black magic to make enchanted belts so they could turn into those animals at will, without being cursed to follow the moon. I had friends who were witches, Wiccan, and they were nice, moral people, but every religious group has people who make you want to say, I’m not with them, or even, They’re evil. There was a shiny scar higher up on my arm where a bullet had grazed me before I got enough of Jean-Claude’s power to heal a non-silver bullet. The blouse actually did hide the scrape scar on my back where a vampire’s human servant had tried to stab me with my own shattered wooden stake. That was back in the day when I still staked vampires outside a morgue kill; shotguns were so much less work. There was a delicate trace of scars across my ass where a wereleopard had cut me up while he tried to rape me and put it in a snuff film. I looked down at the muscled, scarred landscape of my body.