Night Critters (Collection) (19 page)

Enough with the fancy courtesies, already
. Staci snatched her hand back and ignored the tingle of attraction to golden skin, wide green eyes, thick black hair that fell well past his waist, and a bone structure any artist would weep over. This deluded Chinese dog shifter believed in luck and fate? Come off it. This was the end of the twenty-first century for goodness sake. No one, no matter how good looking, was going to convince her to be stupid-stitious.

His Excellency straightened back up, and for a moment his eyes flickered with disappointment before he resumed that calm aura of an ascetic warrior. “So, you see, luck and fate are a part of us all."

"Fate and I aren't on speaking terms, Your Excellency. I really don't believe in luck. I believe in logic and responsibility. Wherever you find yourself, you got there because of your own choices once you reach the age of cognizance.” Staci slipped down from the wall in preparation to giving him a full lesson. She'd seen kids who'd been forced into bad circumstances not of their own making who'd pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. To her, they were shining examples of how to live life responsibly and never blame fate or luck.

The ambassador's brows drew together in perplexity. His clothing and the luxurious office spoke of wealth and privilege. Maybe he didn't know just how bad life could be for those who had no choice. “Look, Your Excellency. You can't blame fate or luck for your own mistakes. Those are cop-out terms for abdicating responsibility for your life. There's no such thing. You..."

Jiao's face contorted to fit some darker emotion she couldn't quite grasp. His frown might have scared anyone with less backbone, that was for sure. He grabbed her elbow, pulled her to him, and kissed her.

Her body went rigid with shock, despite a heat that flamed high and strong from her core. No male among her parents’ pack dared lay hands on a female who hadn't expressed complete willingness. Her hands shot to his shoulders to push him away, but developed a plan of their own and pulled him closer. No doubt about it, this guy was sin on a stick, with toppings.

"Excellency” earned his title not from some ancient rulebook, but rather by his superb tongue action combined with the best lip rub she'd enjoyed in years. In her pack's Full Moon kissing contests, he'd have every bitch in the place raising her tail for more.

For an eternity of great kissing, Staci forgot where she was and who she was in a lip lock with. She wanted to keep that amnesia, until her hand caught on one of the jewels of his robe and sliced her finger neater than a razor. She gasped, broke free of his embrace, and stared at him in horrified shock. Truthfully, she wasn't sure who she was mad at—him or herself. He made the more convenient target. She picked up her shoe, the spiked heel serving as the best weapon she had, and shook it at him threateningly. “What the hell kind of ambassador are you?"

The lust in his eyes faded back to cool black depths. “For twenty-four hours you will know luck, and how bad it can be if you don't respect it. Until our interview tomorrow morning you will realize how little control you truly have over your life."

Staci shook her head at the gong-like tone his proclamation made inside her head. Her ears registered a soft, faintly accented masculine voice, but her head hurt from the echoes reverberating in her skull. Staci put her palm to her forehead to get the vibrations to stop making her brain rattle enough to give her an instant migraine. “Oww."

Jiao shifted back to his colorful Foo Dog self, spread his leathery wings and took off into the sky. That such a large, heavy creature could take off from a standing position with very little updraft was an incredible show of strength. He even managed some fancy aerobatic moves to catch what few thermals were present around the embassy building before landing on a large perch-balcony and stepping inside.

Staci stared after him with her mouth hanging open, one mauve shoe in her hand, and lust in her heart. Nothing impressed her more than fancy flying, not even that toe-curling kiss, which had been spectacular enough. She grabbed her tote and staggered to her most prized possession, a Red-Hot red two-seater convertible hydrocar she called Cherry.

Cherry sat right where she'd been parked, but she wasn't going anywhere immediately. The front driver's side tire was flat as a pancake. Exasperated, Staci took a deep breath. And another, just to make sure. She tossed her purse and shoe into the back seat. “No problem. Once I find out what caused the flat, I'll fill it full of that can of tire foam I keep in the trunk tool case for just such an emergency.” Proud of her forethought, Staci examined the tire and found the sharp piece of construction metal that had dug into the tire. She fought with the metal using a pair of pliers until the stubborn hunk let go, sending her straight on her rump with her bare heels digging into the pavement. A few minutes later, the tire was full of foam, and she was on her way.

So what if she was now dirty and barefoot? She tooled up the ramp to the main highway with the wind in her face and the sun shining like a warm blessing. So what if construction and repair on the highway's speed control forced her car to creep along at half the normal speed? It was a fine day, wasn't it?

A dark cloud obscured the sun briefly, and more of its fellows raced across the sky to join in. Staci glanced up and frowned. Those were some pretty impressive thunderheads building, and they promised buckets of rain. She'd not bothered to read the weather forecast on her useless Treo, so she quickly punched the button to get the top up over her head, sealing her in the car just before the first raindrops spattered on the windshield.

Her belly rumbled with hunger long before her hydrocar made the exit and glided quietly into the drive of her condo. Staci thought longingly of a nice lunch, nuked to perfection, and time with her keyboard while she raced up the short walk to her doorway and punched in her code. She was so starved she almost didn't notice the brown data packet adhered to her door.

The packet's seal sent a chill down her spine. What did the government want that they sent a data stick? This was rarely good news. Staci took the packet from the door and held it between two fingers like a particularly noisome insect. Only when she had her lunch in front of her on the table did she gingerly open the packet and remove the two data sticks from inside. Both were unlabeled, so she chose one at random and reluctantly placed the stick in the port of her terminal.

Her jaw dropped and the forkful of food on its way to her mouth hovered where her hand froze. “I'm dead? What do you mean my accounts are frozen pending probate? My license to operate vehicles has been canceled and my trust fund is pending probate before being turned over to my heirs?” Staci blinked. She reached for her phone and snatched her hand away before she could dial the Thornburn pack accountant for advice. Instead, she removed the first data stick and replaced it with the second. “Best get all the bad news at once."

Her forkful of food made the journey to her mouth, but made a precipitous exit across the table when she read the second stick's message. “Excuse me? I'm being billed for death and inheritance taxes both? When did I become my own heir, and how did they decide I owe over five million smackers?” She reached for the phone and resigned herself to difficulties.

The old were-bitch accountant put it succinctly. “You pissed Murphy off royally, didn't you, honey? It'll take me at least twenty-four hours to straighten this mess out, if my luck holds. Take public transportation and use the pack debit. Yours is likely deactivated."

Many hours—and phone calls—later, with the promises of the pack accountant that she'd handle everything to reassure her, Staci climbed into bed with a big bowl of grapes, her one dietary indulgence.

She swung her bedside terminal to her and researched Foo Dogs. Today's events had been coincidence piled on enigma to the point where Staci began to wonder if there really was such a thing as a bad luck curse.

Staci's research didn't make her feel any better. The references went as far as the old Shanghai museum, and contradicted themselves depending on the culture. “'Most often seen as pairs of statues protecting temples, villages, and even the Imperial Palace of China.’ Yep, those statues look just like him, except he had wings. Protectors of truth, guardians against evil, symbols of luck, and even one obscure ancient writing that claims Foo Dogs were minor luck gods.” Staci popped the last grape in her mouth. “Great. According to stupid-stitions, I pissed off a luck god."

Her bed creaked ominously and snapped in half, folding her in the two halves like she was the filling of a taco. Her empty bowl landed on top of her head like a tombstone. Emphasizing the dread filling the pit of her stomach, a crack of thunder rattled the windows and the power went out.

Staci shook her fist in the darkness. “Oh, you just wait until I see you tomorrow, you giant concrete doorstop!"

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Jaio thrashed in his nest-bed, guilty over what he'd done to the lovely Staci Thornburn. Sweat poured from his flesh, and the scent of his continual arousal made his self-torture infinitely worse. A crack of thunder jolted him completely awake. Jaio sat up and leaned against the soft-pillowed wall of his round bed. Any Foo Dog would be proud to share his nest-bed of the finest silk with him, but he was mateless.

His mate had been destroyed while they both slept as statues during the ugliness of the twentieth century, and he'd never found another to replace her. He'd loved Xiu Mei, but despite her warrior nature she would have been very uncomfortable with the way the world had changed. Perhaps it was better that she had gone into the Cycle of Rebirth, but that did not ease his loneliness. Foo Dogs did not function well without a mate to balance them.

Jiao rose from his bed and lit a joss stick to send his prayer to Xiu Mei's spirit, begging her forgiveness for having to seek another in her place. Without her, he was irascible and easily angered. “Witness what I have done today, and aid me in my quest when I return to China, my love. I fear without you I will become as the storm, wild and unruly. Forgive me."

Naked and alone, Jiao padded on bare human feet to the window and watched the rain pelting down on the city below. Unable to resist the lure of the wind, he stepped out on the balcony, trusting the darkness and ornately carved rail to hide his naked state from observers. Rain and wind lashed him with icy whips, and shook the wings he'd inherited from his dragon mother like sails on a boat in the rivers. In moments, the rain washed the sweat from his overheated body and cooled his ardor better than the climate-controlled embassy air could ever accomplish.

Shivering slightly, Jiao returned inside and dried himself off with a thick towel. He sniffed the incense of the joss stick and vowed to maintain his self-control better. He would make amends to Miss Thornburn in the morning, complete his mission to find aid for the children of China, and then he could return home with honor.

With a plan in mind, Jiao returned to his bed and settled himself between silk sheets the same color as the sky he loved to fly in. He smiled and set his mind to dream of doing just that.

He soared alone among the clouds, reveling in the sheer joy of the wind and clear air, far away from the crowding of creatures below. The warm air rising beside the sheer mountain cliffs allowed him all the lift he needed to glide lazily and bask in the sunshine pouring down from above. The world was still a wondrous place to simply be what one was, with no pretensions.

A second pair of wings, with black as night feathers and shining with health, joined him in the thermal. Staci Thornburn, still wearing the alluring pink dress she'd worn earlier that day, soared just out of reach, laughing on the wind with the sun in her face.

Jiao chuckled to himself. What had his dream self conjured in his need? All he wanted was a female to meet him in the air and sky dance with him. Did it matter? He, of course, was naked as the Elements had made him, and this was fitting. He preferred to feel the wind along his entire body to cool him, and smell the incense of the bamboo rising on the warm thermals. There was no harm in a dream flight, and he intended to enjoy the experience.

Nephylum were normally pale, ethereal creatures, but not Staci Thornburn. Her wings made powerful strokes in the air, with her sensibly braided dark hair trailing behind her like a kite's tail. Strength and power were hers to command as effortlessly as he did. Nothing could have been sexier than a female of grace and power in the air. She glanced casually over her shoulder, as if daring him to follow her, and then she caught the thermal rising from the sheer cliff in the west.

Jiao laughed, as he had not done in all the time since the Imperial priests had awakened him fifty years ago. He soared to take the same thermal and spiraled up to catch her in the ages old art of the male dragon who must catch his chosen mate before she would submit to his advances. Warm air wafted around his face, and he drank deeply of her heady scent. There was no need to rush.

Staci awaited him at the top of her climb, cupping her wings to catch the merest hint of the rapidly cooling lift. Her smile taunted him, and her dark eyes sparkled with the challenge.

With a few heavy beats of his wings, Jiao raced to catch her, despite being at the upper limits of the altitude his heavier body could stand. His lungs burned in the thin air, but they would not remain long in the thin air if he could just catch hold of her hand.

She saw him draw near, and folded her wings to dive, but wasn't fast enough. She shrieked a laugh when he captured her ankle and tickled her bare foot.

Jiao yanked her to him and caught her hands. His arousal complete from the chase, he ripped the dress from her body and spread his wings fully to slow their descent to a spiraling dive.

Staci's wings, too, shot out in an instinctive move to slow their descent further, but instead of spreading herself beneath him submissively, she bit his shoulder. She seemed uncaring that they would crash upon the rocks below within a minute or two.