Freddie’s pocket and found the key, and then yanked him to his feet. He swayed, but he stayed up.
“Go," said Dale. “ Now .”
Freddie ran out the door.
Dale breathed out, and turned to Sam. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. She was shaking, and Dale went up to her and slowly, carefully, put a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t jump or flinch away, just leaned into it, and he took the cue and wrapped her up in his arms.
She pressed her face into his shoulder and shuddered. “That was awful," she said. “Nothing like that has ever happened to me before.”
“I am going to do everything in my power," Dale said, “to make sure nothing like that ever happens to you again.”
He rubbed a hand up and down her back for a minute, and then took a deep breath and said, “I mean it. Whatever you need. If you want to move away and start a new life somewhere where there aren’t any lions, I will help you do that—”
“No!” Sam lifted her head. “I thought we were mates.”
“We are." Dale couldn’t help leaning down to place the gentlest possible kiss on her swollen cheek. The skin was hot under his lips. “That’s why I want to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re happy and safe.”
Sam pulled back and looked him in the eye. “I will be happy to see Chapman sent running like Freddie was. And I will be safe when he’s gone. So you can do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
“Done," said Dale. “And it’ll be my pleasure.”
Sam smiled. “Good.”
Dale started to smile back, and then stopped when he realized his face might still be bloody. “We should clean up," he said, glad that at least it didn’t seem like he’d scared Sam. “And—you’re still handcuffed!”
Sam lifted her hand, the chain dangling from it. “Didn’t seem as important with you here instead of Freddie, somehow. Want to undo me?”
Dale still had the key wrapped in one hand; he’d just forgotten about it in the haze of having Sam back with him and safe.
“I’ve never in my entire life been absent-minded like I am with you," he said as he uncuffed her.
“Do you like it?” Sam asked, extracting her wrist.
“Yes.” He held her hand gently in both of his—her wrist was abraded, but not bleeding. “We should wash this and put something on it, but it’ll be fine. Are you hurt anywhere else? Is your head okay?”
“My head is okay," Sam said. “My face just needs some ice. I think Freddie nicked me, though.” She twisted, and Dale saw the rent in her sleeve, and the little thread of blood on her upper arm.
“With his knife?” Dale pulled her closer to look at it.
“No, it was when he was a lion," Sam said.
Dale froze. “Was it his claws or his teeth?” he asked carefully.
“His teeth," Sam said slowly, her eyes on his face. “Why?”
“Do you know the two ways people can become shapeshifters?” Dale asked.
He kept his hands very light on Sam, but the part of him that wanted to dig his claws into something had returned full force. He was sorry he’d let Freddie go.
“I know that much from TV,” Sam said. “It’s hereditary or they get bitten.” She looked at her arm. “Does this...count as a bite?”
“Any time the teeth break the skin, the transformation can happen," said Dale. “It’s not guaranteed. You’ll know within twenty-four hours.” He looked up at her face. “Sam, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be," she said, a little frown on her face, like she was thinking. “Don’t be. You didn’t bite me, and—I could really turn into a lioness? What are the chances with a little nick like this?”
“It’s...possible," Dale said. “Even with a small cut. Are you—aren’t you upset? That this happened without your consent?”
“Well," said Sam, still looking at her arm, “obviously it would be better if it was voluntary—how often do people volunteer to be bitten?”
“It’s not something we do lightly," Dale said. “There are a lot of people who want it—if
“Go," said Dale. “ Now .”
Freddie ran out the door.
Dale breathed out, and turned to Sam. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. She was shaking, and Dale went up to her and slowly, carefully, put a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t jump or flinch away, just leaned into it, and he took the cue and wrapped her up in his arms.
She pressed her face into his shoulder and shuddered. “That was awful," she said. “Nothing like that has ever happened to me before.”
“I am going to do everything in my power," Dale said, “to make sure nothing like that ever happens to you again.”
He rubbed a hand up and down her back for a minute, and then took a deep breath and said, “I mean it. Whatever you need. If you want to move away and start a new life somewhere where there aren’t any lions, I will help you do that—”
“No!” Sam lifted her head. “I thought we were mates.”
“We are." Dale couldn’t help leaning down to place the gentlest possible kiss on her swollen cheek. The skin was hot under his lips. “That’s why I want to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re happy and safe.”
Sam pulled back and looked him in the eye. “I will be happy to see Chapman sent running like Freddie was. And I will be safe when he’s gone. So you can do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
“Done," said Dale. “And it’ll be my pleasure.”
Sam smiled. “Good.”
Dale started to smile back, and then stopped when he realized his face might still be bloody. “We should clean up," he said, glad that at least it didn’t seem like he’d scared Sam. “And—you’re still handcuffed!”
Sam lifted her hand, the chain dangling from it. “Didn’t seem as important with you here instead of Freddie, somehow. Want to undo me?”
Dale still had the key wrapped in one hand; he’d just forgotten about it in the haze of having Sam back with him and safe.
“I’ve never in my entire life been absent-minded like I am with you," he said as he uncuffed her.
“Do you like it?” Sam asked, extracting her wrist.
“Yes.” He held her hand gently in both of his—her wrist was abraded, but not bleeding. “We should wash this and put something on it, but it’ll be fine. Are you hurt anywhere else? Is your head okay?”
“My head is okay," Sam said. “My face just needs some ice. I think Freddie nicked me, though.” She twisted, and Dale saw the rent in her sleeve, and the little thread of blood on her upper arm.
“With his knife?” Dale pulled her closer to look at it.
“No, it was when he was a lion," Sam said.
Dale froze. “Was it his claws or his teeth?” he asked carefully.
“His teeth," Sam said slowly, her eyes on his face. “Why?”
“Do you know the two ways people can become shapeshifters?” Dale asked.
He kept his hands very light on Sam, but the part of him that wanted to dig his claws into something had returned full force. He was sorry he’d let Freddie go.
“I know that much from TV,” Sam said. “It’s hereditary or they get bitten.” She looked at her arm. “Does this...count as a bite?”
“Any time the teeth break the skin, the transformation can happen," said Dale. “It’s not guaranteed. You’ll know within twenty-four hours.” He looked up at her face. “Sam, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be," she said, a little frown on her face, like she was thinking. “Don’t be. You didn’t bite me, and—I could really turn into a lioness? What are the chances with a little nick like this?”
“It’s...possible," Dale said. “Even with a small cut. Are you—aren’t you upset? That this happened without your consent?”
“Well," said Sam, still looking at her arm, “obviously it would be better if it was voluntary—how often do people volunteer to be bitten?”
“It’s not something we do lightly," Dale said. “There are a lot of people who want it—if
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