The sheriff settled into one of the individual sofas in my living room, and it didn’t help that his wife sat anywhere but on his lap, where he could keep her closer.
“Wouldn’t you prefer… I don’t know, to change?” I asked while serving coffee for him and tea for Kaylee.
We returned to formal treatment with surprising naturalness after the violent moment…
“What? Change skins, you mean?” he teased, pulling back those lips and white whiskers to show his teeth with mockery. He seemed very comfortable even though he was technically “in the lion’s den.” “No, Mrs. Grant, it’s not necessary. It feels good to stretch my claws a little. You don’t mind, right?”
It was an excuse, of course. I noticed it in the way he looked at me, with a certain mischievousness. He wouldn’t shift to his human form
