Mila walks back toward the map and points at the red circle, indicating a high concentration of missing people.
"We need to go to Willowbend first," she instructs again.
Quelling the various feelings warring in my head, I grab my phone and quickly send off a text to my superiors and the team leaders working under me to let them know we might have a possible lead.
"It's only about a three-hour drive from here," Mila goes on. "We can go now, but there's something you need to know about me before we head out on the road together." Mila takes a deep breath and releases it as she speaks, making the end of her words squeaky. "I'm a vampire bat. That means that I have a very severe allergy to the sun. We'll need to take one of the Academy's armored cars, which have insanely good tinted windows."
"You have an allergy to the sun." I repeat the words, letting my eyes roam over her body. That definitely explains the perfect creamy tone of her skin. She's never felt the pain of a sunburn or the joy of lying in the grass on a cool spring day. Seems like a shame.
"That's right. And I need to grab some food before we go. I doubt my dietary restrictions can be met where we're going, and I need to eat something specific once a day... or..." Mila looks away, her cheeks nearly matching her lipstick.
"Or?" I prompt.
"I get a bit sick." She says it quickly, avoiding my gaze.
I narrow my eyes, not quite understanding the undertones of her comment.
"Let's just get to the cafeteria. The sooner I eat, the quicker we can get out of here."
Mila rolls up the map and slides it into a cardboard cylinder, which she stuffs into a large messenger bag. I watch her move around the lab with agility and efficiency.
The energy in the elevator is electric. Clean stainless steel walls glimmer, and no matter where I look, I see Mila. She's nervous, I can tell. Though her back is straight and her shoulders squared off, she is chewing on the inside of her lower lip. There's a dip in her skin where she is working the sensitive flesh. What I wouldn’t give to work off some of our mutual tension right about now.
I have to bite down on the inside of my own cheek to keep from asking her if she’s really okay with coming on this retrieval mission. I have a feeling she wouldn't be too pleased with that question, however. This is a clearly capable woman. More than that, she seems determined. She wouldn't have all of that research if she weren't. She wants to do this, and I won't be the one to stand in her way.
But that's not to say that I won't worry about her wellbeing. I vow to keep an eye on her and pull her at the first sign that she is taking on too much. I get the distinct impression that Mila is quick to blame herself for other people's shortcomings and wrongdoings. Not many people would choose to dedicate their lives like Mila has.
It's admirable, and I don't know her enough to fuck with that.
The elevator's clear ding echoes through the enclosed room before the doors slide open.
Just as I'm about to walk out, a familiar face stops me. It's like worlds colliding, and it rattles me.
"T-Bone? Is that you?" Ben is just as surprised to see me here as I am to see him.
Although I really wish he hadn't used that painful nickname to greet me. I was hoping Mila would never learn of it. It's too late, though. Her perfect eyebrows are already arched into a question. She'll be asking me about that later.
Ben Beaufort is an old family friend. Our parents got together a few times, taking all of us kids camping to find a few good grazing spots. Cattle shifters always find a way to graze in groups. Eating in large social groups is good for the digestion.
"Ben, hey. I heard you had joined the Academy." We do a quick hug and back pat by way of greeting. I can feel Mila's eyes roaming over me with curiosity.
"What are you doing here?" Ben asks, still fairly shocked to see me at FUCNA. After all, I work for a human police force, and it's not common knowledge that I am the liaison between FUCNA and the RCMP.
"Here on a case," I answer, gesturing to Mila.
"You get to work with Mila?" He smiles at me like I'm in for it.
I already know that. She will definitely be an interesting partner to work with.
"That's right." I shoot her a smile.
"Well, good luck with that," Ben says before retreating into the elevator.
Mila leads me down the hall toward the cafeteria. For a few precious seconds, I think that I'm home free, that she won't ask me about the T-Bone thing.
"So...T-Bone? Why the hell is your nickname T-Bone?" She doesn't even try to contain her smile.
"Because my last name starts with a T and because I'm a Hairy Coo."
"A what now?"
"Highland Cattle, you know those great red-haired bulls from Scotland? I have wicked horns," I add, giving her a sly smile.
"Wait." Her eyes open wide in panic. "Aren't those bred for meat?"
"Yes," I confirm.
Laughter explodes out of her. "That is both hilarious and kind of fucked up. How is T-Bone better than your actual name?"
I clamp my mouth shut, avoiding her gaze.
"Agent Thrussell, let me see your badge." Mila's entire face is lit up like she's about to solve a great big mystery.
"No, that's okay."
Without warning, Mila's hand shoots out, going for my back pocket where I'm storing my badge. Her fingers graze my ass, and my skin breaks out in goosebumps. I close my hand around hers, trying to stop her process, but it's no use. She's already opened the badge.
"Courtney Thrussell III?" She reads it again before looking up to me. "Your parents called you Courtney?"
"They did," I confirm. "It's my grandfather's name and my father's as well. It's a well-known name in the RCMP. Besides, my father says that it was good for me to have a name like Courtney growing up."
"Your dad Johnny Cashed you." Her laugh is musical, even the little snort that surprises the hell out of her. She covers her mouth as she starts humming A Boy Named Sue.
"Historically speaking, Courtney was a masculine name,” I try to defend. The fact is true, but it does nothing to staunch her giggles. I won’t say that I like the sound of her laugh. Nope. Not even a little bit. Especially not the way it tickles down my back, warming my heart.
"Sure, T-Bone. That's what I'm calling you from now on, by the way."
We walk into the cafeteria, and Mila immediately goes to the cash register. I watch with interest as she interacts with the staff while I grab a few things because I am always hungry. Contrary to popular beliefs, cattle do not have four stomachs. We do, however, have a very complex digestive system, which does leave us feeling peckish more often than not.
One of the staff members scurries off into the back and soon returns with an opened to-go container on which a patty of raw meat sits. I don't miss the way Mila's eyes grow wide in anticipation.
"What is that?" I point to her repulsive-looking meal as we make our way out of the cafeteria on the way to Director Cooper’s office.
"Steak tartare," she answers, taking a reverent bite.
Really, that is the only way to describe it. Her eyes roll back before she closes them, her lips sliding along the fork.
Mila is eating raw cow.
I’m bovine.
Very much unlike me, I have a dirty thought as I wonder if there is another type of beef cut she would like to taste. Particularly something in my southern region.
I shake the thought from my head, choosing to focus on the dish instead.
"That is very disgusting,” I state. “Is it supposed to be that...juicy?" Really, it's blood that is pooled at the bottom of the Styrofoam container. I try not to be grossed out, but it's difficult.
"Have you ever had steak tartare?" she asks.
"That would be a firm no."
"Well, then you can't say anything. The staff keeps it on hand, especially for me and cadets like me. I am definitely not the only one who enjoys it. Try it. It’s guaranteed not to be a shifter."
She stops walking, and with her fork, she digs into the raw ground beef and reaches over to me, letting it hover near my lips. It doesn't smell all that bad, but it's the look in her eyes that makes me pause.
Mila's blue eyes seem to be on fire as she watches for my reaction. I lean forward, close my lips around the prongs, and take the bite into my mouth. Savory sourness bursts on my tongue.
"Hmm." I swallow slowly, my gaze still glued to Mila's. "It's actually pretty good."
She tosses her long red hair over her shoulder with a triumphant smile. "Technically, I just watched cannibalism."
My face falls for all of two seconds until her laugh bubbles out of her. "I'm joking, but your expression was well worth it. FUC would never use non-certified dealers, so all the food here is guaranteed to be non-shifter.”
She scoops more of the tartare onto the fork and cocks an eyebrow, daring me to take another bite. I do, but this time, I reach out for her fingers, stabilizing her shaking hand.
“Does this curb the vampire bat’s craving for blood?”
Mila rolls her eyes and starts walking, munching as she goes. “It depends. Sometimes, as soon as I shift, I’m flying off to the nearest mammal to get a fix. I have to do it, though. We die if we don’t ingest blood at least once a night. It’s barely a teaspoon of blood, so the animal doesn’t even feel it."
"I guess it makes sense that your mother would have a fascination with blood."
Nice one, jackass.
Did I really have to go there?
"Sorry,” I mumble. I do find the information interesting. Markov is a hematologist who is also a vampire bat. That’s just a fancy way of saying that she is a blood doctor who actually needs to ingest blood to survive.
Mila’s eyes catch my own, and she shrugs. "Totally fine,” she says. “You're not wrong."
In short, Mila is fascinating. She is equal parts chaos and control.
She keeps surprising me. Coming here, I knew I was getting an expert in all things Sveta Markov. I didn't expect to be working with Markov's daughter. And I sure as hell didn't anticipate that she would have a war room dedicated to her mother’s crimes.
To solve them. To give the families some closure. It takes a special kind of person to do that, and I admire Mila.
It takes strength of character to do that.
Mila isn't conventional in the least, which is usually my type. But there's something about her that calls to me. Typically, the women I am attracted to are predictable. It's what I prefer.
I never know what might come out of Mila's mouth next, and I've known her only a few hours.
If anything, working with her should prove to be interesting and a test of my composure.