His libido told his brains to shut the hell up. Her scent was exciting, sweet. She looked up at him and smiled, and her small hands moved to his waist.
Warm supple woman slid against his body, and Liam’s blood flowed toward his groin. He imagined her under him, hips lifting as he slid into her. Her blue eyes would close, her round br**sts would press his chest, and her legs would rise to twine his waist.
Gods, he needed sex. After a fight he always ran in his cat form to get it out of his system, before he paid the price. He hadn’t had the chance to run tonight, so his body urged him to do an even better thing, take this woman home and love her.
If he’d been doing what Sean suggested, having a good night’s shag with a Shifter woman every night, Liam wouldn’t be sweating now, fighting his urges and his Collar. He’d never, ever had urges to be with a human woman.
Then again, he’d never met Kim.
Liam pulled her closer, hands moving to her hips. I’m the Shifter who doesn’t need anyone, who puts the good of Shiftertown before everything else.
Right.
Kim laughed. “I forgot how much I liked to dance,” she said over the music.
“Doesn’t your man ever take you out on the town?”
“Abel? We go to fancy dinners, usually with a group of lawyers he’s trying to impress. No dancing.”
“His name is Abel, is it?”
“Yeah, Abel Kane. Can you believe his parents named him that?”
“He could change it. I hear humans do that.” As though a name were a mutable thing. Humans were crazy.
“He says people remember it,” Kim said. “I guess he’s right.”
“But he doesn’t dance.”
Kim laughed. Apparently thinking of this boyfriend dancing was hilarious. “No, he doesn’t dance. I didn’t know Shifters did, either.”
“We do a lot of things.” Liam twirled her once, pulled her against him again, and then the song drew to a close.
Couples dispersed. Jordie Ross kissed his wife on her upturned lips, stroking his fingers over her throat. The fond look she gave Jordie as she walked back to her girlfriends stabbed through Liam’s heart. His own parents had looked at each other like that once. So had Kenny and Sinead. Mates for life, they’d thought.
Liam kept hold of Kim’s hand. “Time to go.”
Kim’s wariness returned as he led her out of the bar. “Go where?” she asked.
“Home.”
“You mean your home.” And his father. Would Liam’s dad be elderly and kind, with the same blue eyes as his son and a warm smile, or a rigid patriarch who terrified every person who crossed the threshold?
Liam nodded silently, his eyes giving nothing away. His sudden quietness made Kim nervous, but then she thought about her own house waiting for her, how large and lonely it was.
The place had never warmed up again since Mark’s death, no matter how hard she and her parents had tried. There’d been a hole in every Christmas celebration, every Easter dinner, every Halloween night’s trek through the neighborhood. The family had gone through the rituals each year, realizing that rituals were unfulfilling when someone you loved was missing from them, but they’d been unable to do anything else. Kim had tried to liven up the house with remodeling a few years ago, having a party to celebrate, but while the house looked more modern, it was still empty.
Kim thought about Shiftertown, how alive it was, how these people had been forced to reside here but had made it bearable with the closeness of family and friends.
“I’d like to see where you live,” she decided. “Even if I have to be interrogated by your father.”
“He won’t interrogate you.” Liam’s smile returned. “Like Ellison said, we’re pu**ycats.”
Kim wasn’t sure what to make of that, but she followed him through the crowd that had gathered outside the doors and in the parking lot. They were mostly Shifters, laughing and talking and waiting for a chance to ooze into the packed interior.
The night had cooled, the humidity lessening. Overhead, stars poked through the lights of the city against vast blackness that stretched to eternity.
“What a nice night,” Kim said. “Do you live far? Can we walk?”
How weird that she wanted to. In this city of cars, walking was what you did along Lake Austin or in Zilker Park or on Sixth Street on Saturday night. You didn’t walk to actually get somewhere.
“It’s not far,” Liam said, “but we’ll drive. It will be safer to leave your car inside Shiftertown than out here.”
He had a point—this was a bad part of town. Liam drove again, and Kim was content to look out the window. This late, no kids lingered on the lawns, but the houses glowed with light. People sat out on lit porches to talk or simply watch the night.
Liam pulled the car into an old-fashioned driveway—two strips of concrete with grass in the middle—about two blocks from where Brian’s mother lived. Liam got out of the car and came around to open the door for her.
Kim looked up in surprise as Liam helped her out and shut the door, a courtesy she wasn’t used to. In her world, a woman had to pretend she didn’t want or need little courtesies from men. If she wanted a man’s job, she had to act like a man. Be even stronger than a man, actually, and more ruthless. Kim knuckled down and played the game, and she was surprised at how much Liam’s gentlemanly gestures pleased her.
Liam’s house was a bungalow, like Sandra’s, two stories with square brick pillars on the porch. One corner of the porch held a picnic bench and a table, the other, a porch swing.
“I’ve always wanted a porch swing,” Kim said. “Stupid, but I was never allowed to have one. Homeowner’s association didn’t approve.”
“You’re welcome to lounge on our porch swing anytime you want.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a sweetie, Liam? Isn’t it a little late for a visit, though? Will your father be up still?”
Liam’s smile answered her. “We’re night people.”
“Like vampires? Hell, I’ve had too much beer.”
“No. Not like vampires.” Liam opened the front door and ushered her into his house. “Vampires are different.”
Kim wasn’t certain what to make of his answer. Was he teasing? But heck, Shifters existed. Why not vampires?
She’d definitely had too much beer.
The front door led straight into the living room, which was dominated by a big box of a television. The couch and chairs had been grouped around it, with folding TV trays for end tables. The tables were littered with soda cans, beer bottles, bowls holding crumbs of corn chips, and stacks of videotapes and DVDs. It looked as though they’d had a movie night. The floors were polished wood with mismatched rugs and runners on them, unlike Kim’s cool tile floors with plush handwoven carpets.