Shifters of Grrr 1 (51 page)

“Indeed, I did not.” The Matchmaker brushed her fingers against the Rabbit’s bronze fur. “See? Nothing.”

Unable to erase her frown, Lucy placed her fingers exactly where the Matchmaker’s had been. Another zap jolted through her body but, this time, it came from
within
. She forced her hand steady against the statue, curious how long the energy would vibrate and what would happen if she kept her hand there. The buzzing dimmed but, as it dissipated, the skin on her hand blurred. Tiny ruffles of white fur spread across the top of her hand, ending in long, thin claws.

A rabbit’s foot. Her hand didn’t transform into a paw. Rather, the image formed over her hand, the way a hologram hides a secret picture. As she angled her hand back and forth, she could view both images separately. Her hand. The Rabbit’s foot. When her hand tipped midway, both skin and fur blended and blurred together. Amazing. Maybe the Matchmaker wasn’t crazy.

“Little Rabbit,” the Matchmaker murmured, nodding in reassurance. “Coax out the spirit and you will discover the world like you’ve never imagined it.”

***

Sheng’s heart pounded in time with Tiger’s.

Rabbit, Rabbit. Come to me.

Rabbit was more than a soldier to Tiger. They were friends, family. Always together, except whenever one of their hosts died and they had to wait for a new one.

Tiger missed Rabbit.

The yearning ached through to Sheng’s chest, joining with a deeper longing. He craved to know Lucy. She fascinated him like no other woman ever had. Shy and uncertain of herself, yet so passionate underneath.

Her display of anger toward the Matchmaker intrigued him. Such fierceness. Maybe she hadn’t been like this before the Red Death. There was something to be said for trial by fire, emerging from the flames unscorched and forged into stronger mettle.

The two women emerged from the antechamber into the main hall. He crept along the tiles and followed the action. After exchanging commands and farewells, Mei, Fang, and Kassian departed with Lucy.

The moment the hall emptied of visitors, the Matchmaker lifted her head toward the window he occupied. “You may come down.”

Shit.

She’d detected him the whole time. Why the fuck hadn’t she called him out on his spying? Devious shrew.

He leapt to the ground, thirty feet below, landing in a graceful crouch right in front of the Matchmaker. His landing hadn’t even made the hairs sweeping over her shoulder flinch.

Ice Queen.

He rose from his haunches to tower over her even though he really ought to display some form of submission. They might have their differences of opinion, but they were on the same side—he on the lower end of the hierarchy.

Tiger chuffed and Sheng obeyed, dipping his head. “Matchmaker.”

She raked her gaze over him while circling him just as she’d done earlier with Lucy. Unfortunately, the Matchmaker was an excellent judge of character. She could take one look at a person and know everything from their favorite color to how many people they’d screwed.

Probably why she hated him so much. From their first meeting, he’d never stood a chance at impressing her. His lips tugged into a smirk.

She thought she knew better than everyone else, especially when it came to matters of love. If she had her way, no one would ever fuck anyone unless they were eternally bonded.

True love and all that bullshit.

Even as he mocked her in the manner he always did, something new yanked at the organ inside his chest.

Lucy.

“You really shouldn’t attempt to outwit me.” She halted her perusal in front of him. “Bringing Lucy yourself would have made one statement. But hiding in the rafters? What do you suppose I should conclude from
that
?”

Fuck. Yep, he was fucked.

He forced his dry throat to swallow. “Why conclude anything,
Mistress
, except that I thought you should form your own opinion of her? Not exactly a secret how well we get along.” Her nostrils flared. He winked, pleased her hackles had risen. She
hated
when he called her Mistress.

They could go like this for hours. They had. Partly because he’d refused her advice, cutting off an engagement to a woman who hadn’t actually chosen
him
.

The Matchmaker insisted true love would blossom between the two of them. She’d been wrong and had hated swallowing that bitter pill.

Ning was happily married, expecting her third kid.

In your face, witch.

He chuckled, causing the Matchmaker to shoot daggers at him from her eyes. Those dark depths narrowed, and he braced. He knew that look, and nothing good would come out of her mouth next.

“Keep your paws off her.”

He opened his mouth, both to protest he hadn’t touched Lucy and that the Matchmaker could go fuck herself, but she beat him to the punch.

“She isn’t for you, and if you defy me in this, I’ll have your hide.”

He slammed his mouth shut. She nodded in approval, as though whatever she’d observed in Lucy was unbreachable.

“You’ve been wrong before,
Mistress
.”

Her eyes flared in warning. “I’m not wrong about this. Lucy is special, more than even you can fathom.”

He clenched his jaw. Lucy
was
special and he’d sensed that before anyone else. He didn’t need some fortune teller ordering him around. “Forgive me if I have less than utter faith in your divinations.” A dry tone seeped into his voice.

“She is pure for a reason. Do. Not. Touch. Her.”

Crap. The Matchmaker knew Lucy was a virgin. He shuddered as the extent of her powers slithered across his skin. She surmised things no one else could. Her revelation shouldn’t have surprised him.

“Test her, train her. Nothing more or I’ll castrate you myself.” She flashed him a smile bearing a tad too much eagerness. Yeah, he bet she just waited for him to really screw up, to tear him down a notch.

Her hand shot to his balls, cupping them. “And I’d do it with so much pleasure.”

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he hissed at the daggers of her nails digging into his sensitive flesh. “Like what you got there,
Mistress
?” He clucked his tongue. “Always trying to get your hands on my balls.”

Her plan backfiring, she released her threatening grip, but smirked. “Do your job, Li. Or I’ll do mine.”

Yeah, screw that. He squeezed his thighs together, his bollocks cringing at the delight in her voice. She’d love to whip him into line. He masked the unease shooting through his body at her threat, unwilling to give her the pleasure of sensing his distress. “Ah, now, don’t pretend you weren’t just looking for an excuse to cop a feel.”

Tiger leapt out. Not bothering to snag the spirit back, Sheng freed the beast. Tiger snarled once and, gratified by her flinch, slunk back. Sheng refused to allow anyone, Mistress or Master, to leash him.

Her features settled into a collected mask once again as her chin tilted toward Sheng. “You are treading on dangerous ground. This isn’t a matter of marriage or my distaste for casual affairs. This is the fate of the entire
world
. The last time I checked, the key to the survival of humanity wasn’t in your pants.”

She paused for effect and, dammit, her words did carry weight.

Tiger shrank back into the corner of its cage. Ouch. Her words stung, her tongue like a barbed whip. Yeah, they’d fooled around, years ago when Sheng had been overwhelmed by the responsibility bestowed upon him after Tiger revealed itself. When he’d first met the Matchmaker, sparks had flared between them, and he’d mistaken their attraction for the good kind. Turned out, they were magnetic opposites, destined to butt heads. He hadn’t exactly performed to her standards in bed, his cock going off before they’d gotten down to it. She’d never let him live his ineptitude down.

He’d been young, far less experienced, and she’d…well, she’d appeared damn near the same as she did today. Ageless, the woman was. Witch.

Later, when he’d learned her views on random fucking, he’d realized the whole thing had been a setup. She’d pretended to want to have sex with him just to humiliate him. Or teach him about control. Or whatever fucked-up lesson her scheme had intended to drill into him. He had no desire to bring up the subject and ask her which.

He shrugged off the blow to his pride. Neither of them itched for a rematch, so what the hell twisted her panties into an
endless knot
?

Before he chose an appropriate retort, footsteps echoed toward them from a side room. He jerked his gaze from her to the source.

Xiaodan. Motherfucker. Lucy’s uncle had been listening too?

Sheng cast a scowl of betrayal at the Matchmaker, but it seemed she was still too smugly reminiscing about his one-act performance in her bed. She lifted her shoulder and focused on Xiaodan.

The short, lanky man strode toward them, but directed his focus on the Matchmaker. “I may have been wrong about the Dragon but, I assure you, Lucy will not disappoint. She will submit to whatever you require of her.” He dabbed the beading sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. The sour stench of his cowardice stung Sheng’s nostrils.

The Matchmaker conceded with a delicate nod. “Indeed. She will,
Xiānshēng
Yeoh.”

Ending their discussion, she slid her arm through the old man’s and waved Sheng off. “Remember our conversation, Li. Don’t bring her back until she’s ready.”

The pair of them strolled away, heads bowed, deep in conspiracy.

The tiny hairs on the back of his neck pricked. He didn’t like this new development. Not one bit. If Xiaodan was involved in the Matchmaker’s schemes, there was more to the puzzle surrounding Lucy than Sheng had been given to piece together.

The Matchmaker might be right, for once. As much as his gut sank to admit it, maybe Lucy really was off-limits.

CHAPTER TEN

Lucy tugged down the hem of her black t-shirt. After the others had driven her back to Kek Lok Si and not her uncle’s condo, she’d anticipated another tour. Instead, they’d handed her a set of workout clothes and directed her to a changing room.

The second she’d stepped out, unease had fluttered through her stomach. The others, dressed in clothes matching the ones she wore, were gathered around Sheng.

Her cheeks flamed as images of last night flashed through her mind. Knowing he’d eavesdropped on her entire meeting with the Matchmaker heightened her anxiety.

Licentious? Seriously, who used that word? It wasn’t as if she were a prostitute. What was wrong with enjoying a little physical contact? Her mind drifted over their conversation in the dome and the appearance of the white foot atop her hand. Had Sheng spied it?

Her palms grew sweaty while she surveyed the huddled group. She shifted her feet, unsure if she should join them.
Are they talking about me?
Just as the question passed through her mind, Sheng lifted his head, his dark gaze lasering straight into her. No emotion pierced the inscrutable mask on his face and, still, she trembled.

Fang, Kassian, and Mei broke away from him, retreating into the gym.

“Come here, Lucy.” Sheng extended his hand but, as she treaded forward, he shifted into a defensive stance.

“What are you doing?”

“Fight me. Show me what you’ve got.”

Oh boy. No way. Sure, she’d achieved the fourth level of
wǔshù
known as the bronze/blue Tiger. Yet it hadn’t been easy or enjoyable. Yesterday, she’d witnessed Sheng fighting. In two seconds or less, he’d have her flat on her back. Without a doubt.

It was pointless to fight him. “We both know you’re better than me. There’s no reason for us to fight.”

“I’m the Master. When I tell you to do something, I expect you to obey.” Another crook of his fingers.

His commanding tone was nothing new to her. As a Master, he outranked her. She owed him both her respect and obedience. Still, she struggled against folding her arms and refusing. Although, part of her would’ve loved to toss him onto his back. Even if she doubted she could best him.

“Fine.” Lucy sighed and inched forward, striking a blow to his shoulder, which—
surprise
—he deftly blocked.

“Try harder than that,
tùzi
.”

His eyes sparked with mischief and, suddenly, she
needed
to wipe the smug grin off his face.

You can do this. Dig deeper, Luce.

She shot forward again, this time lower, aiming to land a strike across his middle. He thwarted her blows, dancing around her. She cut her arm across her body, using the force to chop at his upper chest. He flounced back, flipping over and away from her, landing in a crouch, hands braced on the ground with the tips of his fingers.

“That’s it. Use your emotions,” he goaded, nimbly popping to his feet.

She didn’t give him a break, launching at him. He slid beneath her and kneeled, his back bent as if he danced the limbo. She landed on her feet and whipped around to face off against him once more.

“What do you know about
anything
?” Her righteous anger didn’t surface, it boiled and erupted. She might have been rescued from the nightmare, but they’d never experienced a second of it. Yet, here they were, saying the vaccine was pointless? Confident
they
could stop the Red Death? Blaming it on a frickin’ Plague God? Ha!