I really needed to learn his name; Merrick's nicknames for him were degrading. It was understandable, given their history, but I wasn't a part of that history and would see for myself before making a judgment.
I stood, stepping away from the table and up beside Merrick. "Why don't you guys pull up chairs and we can all talk over lunch," I smoothed the conflict easily.
"Sounds lovely," the prince purred.
I didn't think I'd ever admit it, but I liked Merrick's engine-idling sound a hell of a lot more than the cat's soft purr. There was just something more honest about the grizzly, and I preferred honest to conniving a million times over.
Merrick sat stiffly in his chair while the cat guys dragged another round table over. The lion took the chair at the head of the table, opposite Merrick instead of beside me. Clearly, his pride in his position outweighed his interest in me.
When the grizzly's hands didn't move back to his food, falling to his thighs in tight fists, my mind went back to our conversation the night before. He'd said that… the cat prince had killed his mom.
Shit.
Sharing a meal with the guy who killed his mother had to be as far from enjoyable as possible, and I was the moron who put him in that position. Feeling bad, I took a casual bite of my grilled chicken with one hand and leaned slightly toward Merrick. Smoothly, I slipped my hand on top of one of his fists in a movement I hoped none of the cats would notice.
"So, what kind of animals are all of you?" Liv broke the silence in her usual cheerful way.
"I'm a lion, he's a tiger, and he's a cheetah," the prince introduced his friends for them.
"Cool. Do you have names?" she swept her gaze from one of the cronies to the other.
I didn't hear their names as Merrick's fist relaxed a little, his hand turning so our palms met. His fingers slid between mine, and I bit my lip at the comfort of the motion.
Was holding hands supposed to be so comfortable? I doubted it and decided it was probably another thing I could blame on the pheromones.
Our scents were sure as hell growing and colliding, but not intertwining the way they would if we mated.
I'd never held anyone's hand before, but I found myself warming up to the simple gesture. Warming up to it really, really fast.
I hadn't ever considered I might develop feelings for the guy I'd have to mate with before I mated with him. I'd assumed the physical act of mating would be excruciatingly uncomfortable for me, since I wouldn't get to choose my mate, and had dreaded it for years.
But what if it could be comfortable or fun? What if it could feel… good? Damn, did I like that idea.
"Hazel?" The cat prince's voice resembled a hiss.
"Hmm?" I asked, not realizing I'd zoned out of the conversation the way the damned grizzly had. And said grizzly was eyeing me suspiciously, probably wondering if I'd gotten lost in the cats' smells the way he'd gotten lost in mine.
"I asked what you like to do for fun." The prince looked seriously offended that I'd ignored him.
"MMA," I said.
He frowned, like he didn't understand.
"Mixed martial arts. Cage fighting," I explained. "You fight for fun?" The prince asked.
"Yep."
"Wow." The prince said, though his voice was full of disgust. It wasn't the first time I'd gotten that response—men often preferred women who couldn't beat them in a fight. They were intimidated by strong females.
"That's impressive," one of the other cats said. He was the cheetah, I thought, and a little too skinny for my taste in men. Not that skinny men weren't attractive—I was just a tall, muscular woman, and didn't feel very feminine next to a skinny guy. "How did you get into that?"
"My parents started teaching me when I was three. They never wanted me to feel helpless. I didn't like it much for the first few years, but learned to enjoy it over time." I gave them the barest bones of the story; I had no reason to trust them, or confide in them.
"Wow, that's cool." The cheetah whistled.
We made awkward conversations for another ten minutes or so. Merrick's grip on my hand was tight and never faltered, but he never opened his mouth to say anything—even to the cat prince, whose name I learned was Gideon.
I shouldn't have been surprised by his disinterest in the conversation, but after the easy way we'd spoken the night before, I'd assumed he was pretty talkative.
When I decided I'd had enough of the cats, I let go of Merrick's hand, then got up and said, "Well, this has been fun." Merrick and Liv stood at almost the exact same time as me, apparently just as eager to get out of the situation as I was.
"I'll come by your motel to pick you up for dinner," Gideon declared, taking a hold of my hand—the one Merrick had been holding. He lifted it to his lips and I tugged it away, but not before he got a whiff of the grizzly's scent on my skin.
His eyes shifted to his cat's and narrowed on the bear.
"She's having dinner with me," Merrick rumbled, snagging my hand in his once again.
"The princess has denied you thus far. It won't be long until she's in my arms, in my bed," Gideon taunted the grizzly.
Ripping my fingers away from the bear's, I stepped closer to the lion and glared up into his eyes.
"I have a name, asshole. And there's no way in hell I'll mate with you, regardless of what happens between me and Merrick. The next time you call me 'Princess,' either to my face or behind my back, I'll rip your damn tongue out. Are we clear?" I didn't form fists, because they wouldn't be the best way to take down the cat.
"Very," Gideon agreed. The look in his eyes told me it was a lie, but I didn't want to start a fight if it wasn't necessary. So, I stepped back beside the Grizzly and my best friend.
Liv spun and strode toward the door, and Merrick's hand found my lower-back to give me a gentle push toward her.
It normally would've irritated me to have someone try to protect me like that, but after he didn't attack the asshole prince and instead let me threaten him, I found it kind of sweet.
We climbed
on our bikes, Merrick sliding back on behind me, and drove back to the motel.