I shrug, licking the inside of my teeth. “Don’t doubt it. But tell me this.” I look her right in the eye. “You ever been hurt after your family put the fear of God into any guy you’re seeing?”
Inara’s nostrils flare at the same time her lips thin, mouth pressed flat.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
She makes a disgusted noise, and I drop my arms, striding past her. “Suck it up, buttercup. Let me grab my keys and shut shit down. Then we’ll get out of here.”
***
The ride home ain’t fun. When we get into my ride, I brace myself and ask: “So. You mad at me?”
Inara’s noise is one of disbelief or low-level horror or maybe it’s a blend of the two. In other words: not promising.
In silence, we drive back to my place.
It’s so tense there should be dents on the steering wheel where my fingers left white-knuckle gripped impressions.
We manage to make it up all the stairs, through the door of my place, close the door of my place—before the fight starts.
It goes like this:
Me: [tosses keys to the counter] “You want to tell me what your problem is?”
Pro tip: don’t start any discussion this way with a woman. Or you’re a fucking idiot.
(i.e., meet: me.)
“Far as I can see,” I continue doggedly, “I didn’t do anything to piss you off.”
Inara: [whirling around, her dorsal spines raised straight up] “You are as bad as any of my brothers!”
Me: [scoffing, offended, and rubbing at a sore spot along my temple, which is probably a woman-made tumor] “I am not!” Although, I gotta say, everything I’ve heard of her brothers, I’ve approved of. So I’m only being set off because she’s so distressed to see any similarities between me and them. “And hey,” I add, dropping my hands from my temple-tumor, “being protective isn’t bad.”
That’s when Inara’s face transforms with horror. She’s staring up at me like I’ve just admitted to being a member of a heinous terrorist cell.
“It’s not,” I insist.
“You have sisters?” she fires back, out of nowhere.
“Yeah, I do. I’ve told you I do.” I’m confused. “Why?”
Inara’s chin goes up. “And did you do that to them?”
“You’re damn right I did.”
Inara’s chin goes firm. Which is fine, because my jaw locked up the moment we started this back at work. I feel a muscle jumping in my face, and if I were a guy who decorated with mirrors and shit on the wall, I know I’d be able to see it. Feels like my jaw is trying to punch free from my skull.
“You’re a SMOTHERER!” Inara whispers stridently enough it should be a shriek.
My frown at her is intense. “I’m getting real damn sick and tired of you making it sound like caring about someone’s safety is a detrimental thing.”
“It is when you overdo it!”
“And who says I did?”
She stabs a claw into the air like an accusing finger. “Where are your sisters now? Do you hover over them? Hmm? Do you?”
“No. They’ve got their own men.” I pin her with a look. “My mom too. She got remarried a couple years back, to a good guy.” I pin her with another, sterner look. “Who I vetted and approved, yeah. And I make no fucking apologies for that. He doesn’t slap her around, steal from her, touch her kids or grandkids—and he better never cheat on her, or my sisters will kick his ass before I ever get a chance.”
Inara pauses.
I smile, just a slash of my lips over bared teeth. “That’s right. Men aren’t the only ones who deal out punishment. Family takes care of each other. That’s what family is about. That’s how you show them—and the world—that you love them. And Stacy may work for me, but that kid is like my little sister. We have a saying here on Earth: ‘an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.’ And by scaring that boy now, Stacy may never know what it’s like to be held down and hurt at the hands of a boy she trusted to treat her decently. I’m not trying to ruin her life; I’m trying to make sure that at no moment in her life will she have cause to wonder if she’s ‘ruined.’ I care about that girl and I just want to make sure she’s safe. But,” I shrug. “Line up the whole damn high school. I’d do that for any girl whether I knew them or not. Throw in their teachers too. I am not going to apologize for trying to watch out for any woman.”
At this, the combative energy Inara’s putting out… disappears.
I stare at her for the length of three heartbeats, and then I relax my proverbial Southpaw stance, because I think the verbal boxing part of our first fight feels over. “Did… that last part win me any points?” I ask.
Her eyes flash, and she exhales smoke.
I hold up my hands, visions of me having a lot in common with KFC’s extra crispy chicken becoming a disturbing probability. “Look. I have the distinct impression that you find protectiveness to be…” I sigh, and search for words. I drag my hand roughly over the back of my head. “You look at it like it's a character flaw. But honey, some guys are cavemen, who operate best being given and giving out basic, primitive signals. And you gotta know, I’m one of them.” I meet her eyes grimly. “I was born that way. I live that way.” By God, I will die that way, I mentally finish. Out loud, I say instead, “And I’m sorry it upsets you, but that’s not going to change.”
Inara is staring at me, wide-eyed. “Cave men? Are you saying protectiveness is a trait your people identify with being… what? Born in caves?”
I shrug. “Well… yeah. Primitive man was savage and uncivilized and maybe a skosh domineering. Modern day men are exactly the same, some of us just hide it better than others.” I meet her eyes. “I don’t hide it much at all.”
Inara abruptly sits down. There’s not even a chair or a couch behind her, she just drops her cute tail to the floor like she had to make the choice between that and fainting. “It’s caves. What is it about caves? Rakhii are whelped and raised in them too…” she mutters to herself, distressed.
See? I told you I liked her family. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.”
“Hearts,” she says under her breath absently.
“What was that?”
She glances up at me. “Hearts. I have more than one.”
I slow blink. “Oh.”
She looks at her clasped hands, at her many claws. “I need to accept that protectiveness is a part of you.”
I crouch in front of her, and take her wrists. Not tightly, and I don’t use them to pull her into me. I just hold them. “I think the only thing you need to do is understand that my concern—and probably your brothers’, can I say that?”
She shoots me a warning frown that tells me she’s not ready for me to stand up for the men—or males, whatever—who she’s had to put up with while growing up.
“Okay,” I concede. “Back to me. Just me.” I lean in, exuding sincerity out of my pores. “When I show you and Stacy concern?”
Gaze searching my face, pretty scaly lips pressed together, she meets my eyes and nods, listening.