Panthers' Pleasure [Impulse 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Zara Chase

proffering his arm. “Let’s introduce you properly to some of the gang, now that you know what they really are.”
    Chantal made her way down the stairs, flanked by Rafe and Vilas. The bar was half-full, and Chantal recognized some of the faces from earlier. People smiled at them, some waved, and she caught a few admiring glances, presumably because of her dress. They headed straight for the restaurant, where Rochelle greeted them. She rubbed her cheek against Rafe’s and Vilas’s and then repeated the gesture with her. It felt incredibly soothing.
    “I’ve saved you a booth at the back where you’ll get some privacy,” Rochelle said, her eyes sparkling as she led them to it herself.
    “Thanks,” Rafe said, sliding into the leather banquette and helping Chantal in after him. Vilas took up the position on her opposite side, sandwiching her between them, their knees touching beneath the table. “Bring us a bottle of the Pinot Noir Reserva while we look at the menus, please, Rochelle.”
    “Right away.”
    “You like wine?”
    “Sure we do. We’re as human as you are right now.” Rafe smiled at her. “I should have asked you if you like red wine, or at least waited until you decided what to eat. I guess I kinda assumed—”
    “That I’d have red meat? Perhaps I will this evening.” She shrugged, feeling inexplicably carefree. “It must be something in the atmosphere that’s gotten me so hungry.”
    “Sex always makes me ravenous,” Vilas said, grinning at her.
    Rafe rolled his eyes. “Which explains why he never stops eating.”
    “Ain’t my fault if you can’t keep your randy paws off me.”
    “Asshole!”
    Chantal laughed at their easy banter. “Talking of the atmosphere, how come I struggle to breathe outside but am fine in here?”
    “We control the airflow in buildings,” Rafe explained. “Nothing magical about that. Just good, old-fashioned air-conditioning adapted to suit.”
    “We need visitors to feel comfortable some of the time,” Vilas added.
    “Yes, I wondered about that.” Chantal took an appreciative sip of the excellent wine that had just been delivered to the table and paused to order beef stroganoff when Rochelle asked her what she’d like to eat. The guys both ordered double servings of veal chops.
    “Good choice,” Rochelle said. “I love our stroganoff, although since I make it myself, I probably shouldn’t say so.”
    “I noticed you don’t have many hotels here,” Chantal said. “Given you have such a lovely beach, I thought that was strange.”
    “Mortals can’t take the atmosphere for long,” Vilas said. “Which is just the way we like it.”
    “So everyone who lives here is either a shifter or mated to one? Isn’t that what you told me earlier?”
    “Right,” Rafe said, “but, for the reasons I also explained, numbers are low.”
    “Attacks and lack of mates, right?”
    “Yep, but that was an observation.” Chantal felt like she was drowning in the glorious depths of Rafe’s vivid blue eyes as he focused them on her face and held her gaze. “I wasn’t trying to put pressure on you.”
    “I believe you,” she said softly, her insides melting with desire. She felt light-headed again, but this time it wasn’t from lack of oxygen.
    “Tell us more about your life,” Rafe invited as they started on their appetizers.
    “There’s not much to tell. We were just a typical family. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we were happy, or at least that’s the way I remember it. Max said that he and I fought all the time.” Chantal felt her euphoria dissipate as she recalled her childhood, before disaster struck and things were never the same again. “I was raised in Pittsburgh, Dad worked in the steel industry, Mom was a homemaker. She believed she was of more value being there for Max and me rather than trying to supplement Dad’s income.”
    “Nothing wrong with that,” Rafe said, squeezing her hand as though he understood her anguish. He was