Sebastian

feet. Her body brushed against his, and he wanted her with a desperation that bordered on madness. But these hours were hers, and whatever happened between them had to be her choice.
    "You need some clothes," he said, his voice rough.
    "But I have clothes," she protested, brushing a hand over the jumper.
    "Different clothes." Taking her hand, he led her down the street to Mr. Finch's shop.
    They were within a step of the door when she stopped and asked in a timid voice , "What's a tigress?"
    "A big, beautiful, powerful cat that lives in a distant landscape."
    "A cat." She stared at the colored pole-lights. "She wouldn't let anyone hurt her kittens?"
    "No, she wouldn't. And she's strong enough and powerful enough to protect them against any fool who tried."
    He could almost feel something shift inside her, feel some change in the air around her. When she looked at him, the little rabbit was still there, but so was a hint of tigress.
    He could handle the rabbit. He wasn't so sure about dealing with the tigress he was trying to create. And he wished he knew why the mention of kittens produced that response in her.
    Mr. Finch greeted them with his usual hums and chirps intermingled with actual words. Every time Sebastian dealt with the small, nervous man, he wondered what was inside Mr. Finch that had brought him to the Den.
    "The lady needs strut clothes," Sebastian said.
    "Strut clothes?" Lynnea squeaked.
    "Strut clothes," he replied firmly. "A tigress wouldn't wear anything else to prowl the Den."
    "Tigress," Mr. Finch whispered. His nervous hand flutters stilled, and his eyes, usually so vague behind his gold-rimmed glasses, sharpened with professional interest.
    "Yes, yes," Mr. Finch said, his hands fluttering again as he hurried to the door of his work area. "I have just the thing. I call it a catsuit. Designed it last month, just finished hemming this first one. Prim and naughty. Yes, yes."
    Returning from the work area, he handed Lynnea a one-piece garment that was prim because it covered a woman's body from her ankles to the top of her breasts, and was definitely naughty because it came just short of fitting like a second skin. The material was dark blue shot with gold, silver, emerald, and ruby threads.
    A succubus wearing something like that would become drunk on the emotions she could wring from the men around her.
    Seeing Lynnea prowling the Den wearing that thing would kill him. He just knew it.

    "What…" Lynnea cleared her throat. "What do you wear under it?" She held the material as if it might come alive at any moment and bite her.
    "Skin," Mr. Finch chirped happily. He didn't look at Sebastian, but his mouth curved up in a tiny smile.
    "The incubi like skin."
    "Oh, I couldn't—"
    Sebastian put his mouth against her ear and whispered, "Tigress."
    A succubus came out from behind a rack of clothes, her eyes hot with envy as she looked at the catsuit.
    Daylight ! Sebastian thought as she approached them. Why did that succubitch have to be here right now?
    "Sebastian," the succubus purred. "Trying to clean up another stray to make it pass as something desirable?"
    "I don't clean up strays," he snapped.
    "Ooohhh? I heard you're Teaser's friend, and everyone knows he doesn't have what it takes to be a real incubus. He would have been chewed up and spit out long ago if it wasn't for you." Her eyes slid over Lynnea. "Even if you can squeeze those broodmare hips into that delectable outfit, you've still got that face on top of it."
    "Perhaps I can help with the face," a cold voice said from the doorway.
    It had been over a year since he'd seen her, and he'd never heard her voice sound like that , but he knew who stood in the doorway.
    So did the succubus, whose face was now twisted into an ugly mask of fear.
    Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself before he turned to face the door—and Glorianna Belladonna.
    Eyes of green ice stared back at him. With her long black hair framing her face, she still looked beautiful, but it was a cold, untouchable beauty—and he wondered if her heart had become just as cold.
    This Belladonna was capable of bringing a horror into the Den that killed so viciously.
    No. No ! He wouldn't think it, wouldn't believe it. If she was capable of doing something like that, it would wound something inside him that would never heal.
    She walked into the shop and stared at the succubus, who cringed.
    "Go," she said.
    The succubus bolted out of the shop.
    "We need to talk,"