Part Three. Chapter Three. Eric

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My tiger was purring like a contented kitten having just drank a bucket load of cream. Well, it's not like a saucer would do it for an animal the size of mine. Our mate had allowed us into his home, which we had discreetly marked with our scent and had looked impressed by our gym, which we had showed him around. We didn't take him into the men's locker room, we didn't want any shifters in that room getting any ideas. He was mine and Michael's mate. When he complimented our looks, we decided we couldn't resist tasting him anymore.

His lips were deliciously soft and pliant, fitting perfectly to my own. He seemed unsure, not reluctant, more likely inexperienced. My tiger purred at the idea that we might be his first, I was equally as satisfied and ran my tongue across his bottom lip, trying to encourage him to allow me access. But before he could respond, we were interrupted.

"Eric, your client is here," Sylvie called as she poked her head into the room.  She didn't even raise her head from her iPad as she spoke.

"I should leave," Alex murmured. My tiger yowled in distress and I imagined myself wrestling the big cat.  Silly beast thought Alex meant to leave and not come back.  Still, I found that I didn't really want him to stray from my side either.

"There's no need, sweetheart," I decided to reassure him.  If I recalled, the V.I.P in question was a shifter.  That person should understand wanting your mate beside you.  I glanced at the coffee machine had had a spark of inspiration!  "In fact, are you familiar with this brand of coffee machine?" He peered down at the device and nodded. "Then you can be on coffee duty!"

"It needs more water," he said.  "I'll go get some." I stole a quick taste of him before leaving him to it.  My mate was too addictive.  It was almost a repeat of when Michael and I first met, just less violent and Alex was way more sweet and cute.

And so my cream filled tiger and I went to the main reception desk to meet with my client.

"You don't look like a V.I.P to me," I told my 'client', crossing my arms as he lounged in his chair, two huge book ends either side of him.  Not that he was any smaller than they.

"Of course I am," he retorted, flicking his long orange hair over one shoulder.  "I am very important.  You are looking at the Head Warrior of the Pride!"

I let loose a slight sigh.  "Things got desperate since I left then," I said, pityingly.  "To think that Uncle had no choice but to rely on you once he retired."  The bookends growled loudly, but the centre piece silenced them with a wave of his hand.  He stood and approached me, his pupils narrowing vertically.

"Still an arrogant bastard," he growled at me.

"Still a showoff," I replied.  The seriousness vanished in the next heartbeat and he threw  his arms about my back and I did the same to him.

"How's it hanging, coz?" He was my cousin, Damien, he was Uncle's other nephew from his mate's side.  Technically speaking, I was probably the stronger of the two of us, but he worked harder than me.  I was too lazy for that.  Why work so much when you were already overflowing with natural talent?

"Why did you think it was necessary to book an appointment?" I asked him as I guided him and the two warrior's with him towards my office.

"How else was I supposed to get your attention?" He whined.  "You never come to the pride lands anymore."

"Damien, I came to visit three months ago," I pointed out.  Although Michael and I had long since left our pack and pride, the King still considered me a part of the pride, so requested I visit from time to time.  Personally, I think it's because he likes the tax income I bring in as a pride member.  If I wasn't listed in his books, all my taxes would go to the central government, completely bypassing his coffers.  Don't get me wrong, he isn't a greedy cat, but the more money in the kitty, the better off the pride and the less complaints he has to deal with because the scratched up furnishings in the 'pride house' hadn't been replaced yet.

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