Knight set the glass of lemonade in front Rose and gave her a light squeeze across her shoulders. She smiled, leaned her head into the crook of Knight’s arm. Knight smelled to her of the jungle, a not unpleasant smell. The other four friends were tearing into the chips and dip before them, looking up at Knight. Everyone knew Po’s persuasion, but Po could not stop staring at Knight, even after he had put on a shirt.
Rose barely said anything, and Knight was also quiet in her presence, content with just looking at her, touching her gently. She was happy with the touches, happy with the silence, happy to be just with him. Then, he looked up at something beyond Rose, and he jumped up. “Shit!” he hissed, and went to the kitchen table. He picked up a slim phone and pressed something. “Hey. Hey – yeah, you busy? C’n you…? I got company…No, goddammit. Yeah. Y’ll see. Love.” He smiled, shaking his head, and hung up, then went back to the small group.
“Are you a hero?” Tiesha, the only one who didn’t seem enamored by Knight.
“Nah, m’ husban’ is.”
“You’re married?” asked Rose.
He raised his left hand, showing them all a glinting silver-like ring with a gold rim around it. “A’most 12 years.”
“To Malcolm King?”
He nodded. “He’s th’ King of our pard.”
“Pard?” asked Po, finally finding his voice.
“I’m a wereleopard.” Knight turned to Rose. “C’n you change?”
Rose went white, and her friends stared at her. She swallowed, avoided looking at Knight, and, in fact, got up and walked over to the other side of the room. Knight got up, ignoring the stares of her friends, and followed her, standing next to her.
She looked down at her nails. “When…I get really angry, I…get claws.” She sucked on her tongue. “And long teeth.”
“Ain’ nothin’ wrong wi’ tha’,” said Knight, placing an arm around her shoulders. “Y’r safe here. Y’ c’n change.”
She shook her head. “I’m scared.”
He nuzzled against her cheek and, strangely enough, she calmed almost instantly. “I said y’r safe here,” he murmured. “My king c’n help.”
They both heard a small ding as the elevator door stopped at the penthouse floor, and the doors of the elevator parted. Knight and Rose turned around to face it. A white-haired boy, wearing khakis and a button-down short-sleeved shirt, stepped out of the elevator and looked first at the people gathered in the living room. Following him was a broad white-haired man, who carried himself with simple regency.
The white-haired boy turned pale eyes to the white-haired man, then saw Knight. “Dad!” he cried, and ran to him. Knight bent and scooped the boy in his strong arms, while the white-haired man approached, a smile growing on his face.
“You must be Rosie,” he said, and held out his hand. “I am Malcolm King.” She stared at him for a moment, surprised, and took it. Then, he pulled her in for a hug. He smelled of snow and clear sky, a deep musk underlying it which filled her being with safety, security, and, most of all, a sense of home. She hugged him back, tightly, and tears again sprang to her eyes.
“Tha’s y’r sister, Rolan’,” she heard her father saying. “No, y’ don’ haveta hug her.”
Rose laughed through her tears and let Malcolm go. She turned to the white-haired boy and said through tear-streaked eyes, “No, you don’t have to, but I want to hug you, my brother.”
The boy hugged her tightly, and she grunted. “Easy, Roland,” said Malcolm, touching the boy’s arm. “She’s fragile.”
“Sorry,” said Roland, letting her go. “I’m very strong,” he said.
“I can see that.”
Malcolm kissed Knight gently on the lips. “Who are her friends?”
“I dunno.”
Malcolm smiled, shaking his head. “I love you, but we still need to work on that.” Malcolm went over to the small group of friends, smiling warmly and holding his arms open in a welcoming gesture. “Hi, I’m Malcolm King, this is Knight and this – ” he motioned to the boy, “is Roland, our son.”
((End))