Once the three strangers left, I could breathe again. And the whiskey Atticus gave me helped take the edge off. Maybe it was all a dream, a weird hallucination caused by a concussion and too much MSG in the air from the restaurant below my apartment. He let in a suited guy pushing a cart with food, and as they set things up on a side table with just enough room for plates and silverware, I eyed the hallway through the open door. No guards. I could still make a run for it, get to my apartment to pick up my files, and get the hell out of there. Enough of this shapeshifter bullshit. They'd clearly doctored the video. It just wasn't possible. People didn't turn into animals in real life.
Atticus pulled out a chair for me as the other guy departed, leaving the cart near the table. "Are you hungry?"
My stomach rumbled, so there wasn't any use in denying it. I hadn't eaten much at the bar after class, too keyed up and ready to fight if John called. So I eased into the chair, trying to ignore that he stood behind me for a long moment, breathing deeply. He radiated warmth. I almost didn't mind being locked in a room with him.
Nothing about him said threat, and my normally reliable instincts remained silent rather than warning me of any danger. Atticus sat next to me and started putting food on the plates — roast chicken and potatoes, sautéed spinach, carrots glazed with something sweet, and half a dozen other things I couldn't immediately identify. I inhaled it as quickly as I could, barely stopping to chew.
Atticus picked at the food, pouring both of us more whiskey from the fancy crystal bottle. "Those were my brothers, by the way. Logan, Carter, and I live here most of the time, although Logan and his fiancee also have an apartment in the city. You'll meet Carter later. Edgar and Benedict live downtown as well. So it's a big house but there aren't as many people here as normal."
I studied him as he spoke, noted the careful admissions. When he spoke of his brothers, very little emotion colored his tone. Something about them hurt him, but I couldn't tell what that was. Not really my business, though. Except I knew what it was to feel alone in a crowd.
The food tasted better than anything I'd eaten in years. As I reached for my second helping, Atticus smiled and passed a basket of rolls. "Logan's fiancee, Natalia, is a chef. So she's improved what we eat by miles. Good, isn't it?"
I nodded, concentrating on chewing and swallowing as quickly as possible. A trip to the bathroom, then escape. A good night's work.
"Where are you from, Sophia?"
My fork paused halfway to my mouth, and what remained of my appetite evaporated. I started pushing food around the plate. "I don't really know. I was left at an orphanage in Chicago at some point, but I don't remember anything before twelve or thirteen."
His eyebrows rose. "I'm sorry."
I shrugged, staring at the shelf of books behind him. It was an old wound, albeit one that still tore open now and then. "Don't be. It is what it is."
"It explains a lot, though." When I frowned, he sat back in his chair. "That you didn't know what you are, I mean. You didn't have anyone to teach you, to show you how to do it right. How to control it. You're starting later than most shifters, but it'll be fine."
"Sounds like you're trying to convince yourself that's true," I said.
He smiled but it was closer to a grimace. "It's not easy. And Logan is concerned about the threat an uncontrolled shifter poses. If even one of us is exposed, it could lead to serious trouble for everyone else. So the possibility of exposure is taken very seriously."
"And that's why you guys knocked me out and snuck me back to your secret lair?"
Half his mouth turned up, and he looked down at his plate. "Sure."
He wasn't at all what I expected. He wasn't cocky or overbearing, he didn't smother me with boasts or challenges or come-ons. He didn't want to talk about himself. He looked like a meathead fighter, like all the rest of them on the circuit, but he wasn't that at all. I almost regretted having to run away and never see him again. But that whole threat of being the one who exposed them... That wasn't a burden I wanted to carry.
"Why do you fight?"
I took a deep breath, resting my elbow on the table and my chin on my fist. "Money. Why do you fight?"
"Control." That same half-smile appeared and faded, almost before I caught it. "Physical exertion helps a lot. It's important for keeping the lion and your leopard calm. It also helps to shift frequently."
I snorted, shaking my head. Ridiculous man. Turning into a lion all the time might work in a giant ass house with no one inside it, but turning into a leopard in a one-bedroom apartment over a 24/7 Chinese takeout was just asking for that exposure they so feared. I speared a potato on my fork and shook it at him. "I doubt that. Doesn't that just increase the odds someone would see and figure it out?"
He nodded, then reached out and took my potato. "Depends on where you do it, girl. Once you've got some practice, you'll see how amazing it is. How freeing."
I frowned and took a replacement potato off his plate without thinking. "Except you have to fight all the time to control it?"
Atticus shrugged. "Strong emotions can trigger a shift if you don't have practice keeping things under wraps. But we'll work on that, too."
He didn't seem like the nurturing type. If I hadn't met him at the fight, I probably would have thought him more a threat in the alley than the three men who actually attacked me. My fingers tapped the table near his hand. I wasn't quite brave enough to touch him, even though the insane urge to lace my fingers through him struck me out of the blue. "So how did you get stuck with me? Are you the one who wrangles all the troublemakers?"
"Stuck with?" Atticus smiled again, and this time it hovered long enough to brighten his whole expression. "I wouldn't let anyone else teach you."
"Why?" My heart beat a little faster in anticipation. I didn't entirely mind that he wanted to be the one to teach me. But he wouldn't be around to help with anything after I ran.
"A couple of reasons." He poured more whiskey in my glass, then tilted his head at the tray and a few covered dishes. "Dessert?"
"Bathroom first?" My heart thumped, uneven and too fast.
Atticus got up immediately, folding his napkin on the table before gesturing at the door. "This way. There's one just around the corner." He showed me the door and I edged through, almost holding my breath.
I regretted having to leave. And for a moment I considered staying. Maybe it wasn't all movie magic that had me turning into a leopard. Maybe it was real and I didn't have seizures at all. Maybe he told the truth. Maybe they held the key to my identity and my people, and if I only stayed with them long enough to see this thing through, everything I'd ever wanted to know would become clear.
Or maybe I'd end up dead or a prisoner forever.
I used the facilities and washed my hands, splashing water on my face as I debated. Running was the only way to protect myself. Even the promise in Atticus's smile wouldn't be enough to stay.
When I opened the door, an empty hall greeted me. The door to the office remained open, with Atticus and the watchful brother talking inside. Distracted. I took a deep breath and slid into the hall, closing the door to the bathroom behind me so maybe they'd think I was still in there. Neither left nor right looked like it led outside, but time ticked away too quickly. I couldn't afford to burn up my headstart in indecision. I went left, staying close to the wall so the floor wouldn't squeak, and moved as fast as I could without running.
Too soon, though, a door moved behind me and an exasperated voice said, "You can't be serious."
I ran, dodged around a corner and sprinted for an open window. Fumbling with the sill and the heavy curtains, I dared a glance behind me and froze.
A lion — a real fucking lion — paced down the hall toward me. It stood at least five feet tall at the shoulder and its paws looked bigger than a car steering wheel, even without the wicked claws that bit into the carpet. I cursed, getting one leg out the window before bothering to look down, and regretted both decisions. A three-story drop waited, along with a couple of broken legs. I closed my eyes. No use running on broken legs. The lion paused a few feet away and I stared at it, defeat paralyzing my limbs even as the chill outside air numbed my fingers where they gripped the sill.
The lion stared at me and I stared at it. Its eyes looked too familiar, too aware, and too sad for it to be a coincidence. It was Atticus, without a doubt. My heart climbed to my throat as my hands went clammy and my knees shook. I shook my head, whispering, "I don't think I can do this."
A purr rattled in his throat and he lowered his head to snuffle my leg, took my foot gently in his mouth, and tugged me out of the window until I collapsed in a heap on the fine, clean carpet. The lion lay down next to me, still purring, and rested his chin on my hip. The massive weight of the lion's head didn't crush me, but provided a comforting warmth, and the soft fall of his mane hid me from the rest of the world. I could almost believe it would be okay.
Until the grim brother walked around the corner and assessed the situation. He studied the open window, then me, then the lion. He heaved a sigh. "Really, Sophia, you should learn your surroundings before trying to escape. You won't be anywhere below the third floor, so next time find a ladder."
When he took another step forward, Atticus the lion stiffened and the purr turned into a growl. A warning. The brother frowned, hands on his hips. "Really, Atticus, you can't —"
The growl grew louder and the lion eased up, though his paw remained on my leg. My breath caught and I tried to scramble out of the way in case Atticus blacked out like I did and decided to tear something apart with those massive paws. As the panic rose in my throat and the taste of bile followed, my skin crawled and another seizure welled up. Not here. Not like this.
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Oh no." The growling stopped and then the lion nosed my hair. His tongue rasped against my cheek in a sticky kiss. I tried to push him away. "I can't —"
My muscles tightened and I curled up in a ball against the pain, and everything went black.