Page 21 of Murder Mittens

“I take necessary risks because I have a mangled face and wish to replace it with my proper face, and I wish to earn my proper face, thank you. And if you feed me any bullshit about how I should embrace my mangled face, I’ll dump your ass into the nearest lake and ruin your hair. Or maybe I’ll tie you up in my living room for a few weeks so I can properly call you Mr. Mane, Mr. Mane.”

“You would.”

“I’m so glad I don’t have to do a demonstration.” I considered having him tied up in my living room for a few weeks, coming to the sad conclusion his growling and roaring would get me fired within a few days. “Are lions expensive to feed? This is an important research question now.”

“I’m very expensive to feed.”

Damn it. “How expensive?”

“I eat enough for six humans on a day I’m taking it easy. My regular dinner is usually three steaks. Take what you can eat, multiply by three, and then make it all steak, all the time.”

I licked my lips. While his diet could use variety, I had to admit I liked his general plan to exclusively eat steak. “I like steak.”

“I bet you do, especially after being forced to consume contaminated fried chicken. If you get through this Battle Lake job with minimal injury to yourself, I will provide steak for dinner tonight.”

Okay. Sebastian spoke my language. Not only did he speak my language, he did so in such a way my virus swooned and waited for him to take over the show.

She wanted to surrender immediately so she could be pampered, fed steak, and seduced.

“I think I need my virus levels checked,” I muttered.

“Why would you say that?”

“My reasons involve my virus’s unreasonable reaction to the prospect of being fed steak.”

“It’s steak, Wells. Steak is the true proof there are divines out there who genuinely wish for us to be happy.”

No, his roar was the only proof I needed some divine out there genuinely wished for me to be happy. “What kind of steak do I get?”

“The steak you are fed is directly related to how badly you get yourself injured this time. Should you emerge with no bruises or scratches, you will be taken to a nice steakhouse, where I will foot the bill for however much you eat. Should you be scratched, you do not get to go to a nice steakhouse. You will be taken to a buffet that happens to serve steak.”

“The difference between these two restaurants is alarming considering the differential in injury,” I observed, narrowing my eyes. My virus would swoon again if he took me to a buffet, where I could eat to my heart’s content. “Perfection or buffet? That’s harsh. Dare I ask what will happen to me if I suffer through more than a few bruises or scratches?”

“I will still take you to a buffet, but they will not serve good steak. They will serve scraps of meat that might have been a steak, but they will serve barbecue chicken worth crying over.”

Crap. Barbecue chicken might break me. “What else does that horrible buffet have?”

“A taco bar.”

My virus demanded I go out of my way to take a beating to earn access to a taco bar. “Ugh, tacos,” I said, feigning disgust while doing my best to keep from drooling. “Does anywhere this far north even serve edible tacos?”

Sebastian smirked. “That’s for me to know and you to find out. I expect you’ll be fully tenderized after every one of the bounties, and the big one? I’ll be monitoring you in the hospital by the end of it. Again.”

Damned lion. “I spent five whole hours in the hospital, and that’s only because I passed out in the damned lobby. It’s tiring work bagging six males in one go.”

“You needed two pints of blood, and you cost the CDC ten thousand dollars in neutralizer. The only reason you didn’t get fined for that stunt is because you called the police to keep the blood trail contained until you could clean it up. And you tried to clean it up yourself.” The lion grunted at me, crossed his arms over his chest, and glowered, staring out the window. “I’ve been over your entire file, Wells. It’s a horror show. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

I grinned. “You probably roared at the wrong vanilla higher up in the CDC, and he felt a need to put you in your place.”

“She.”

Laughing, I checked the navigation panel to confirm where I needed to go, pondering how I wanted to take out the asshole wolf holding a woman hostage after infecting her against her will. “Did you try to flirt with a supervisor, Mr. Mane? And not only that, she was a vanilla supervisor? Damn, you’re bold.”

“Damn it, Wells! I didn’t flirt with her. She pissed me off because she thinks vanillas are worth more than everybody else. I called her out on her bigotry. While roaring. Her boss caught me doing it. I got moved to manage you.”

“And what happened to your supervisor?”

“I believe she was fired for being a bigoted asshat.”