Life had settled, as lives often do, into a routine that suited both Neville and Demeter very well indeed. They had found a house to share, moving themselves in with very little fuss or bother - a home with room enough to build a life together with all their little foibles perfectly catered for. Their hours of work complimented one another most of the time, and on those occasions when it didn't, they weren't alone for long. Today was one of those days - Neville had been rehearsing for The Nutcracker at the Shanachie, the first to return home while Demi finished up with a client at work. She was later home than usual, very quiet as she opened the front door and stepped inside, shedding her coat and shoes before calling out her return. "I'm home!"

"In the kitchen!" he called, upon hearing her announce her arrival. They had slowly but surely been working on decorating the house for the holidays, but the Christmas tree was still only half-decorated and, with both their busy schedules, it was hard finding time to finish. Still, it seemed Neville had been busy since he'd arrived home from the theater as the smell of food cooking filled the house with its aroma.

Barefoot, she wandered toward the kitchen. It had taken a while to get into the habit of it, but she had finally stopped using her sensitive nose to already be in the same room by the time he announced where he was. It was a small piece of normal she could give him, and besides, on days like today, she needed that little extra time to relax her expression before she reached him. "Hello," she smiled at him, rising onto her toes to kiss his cheek affectionately. "How was rehearsal today?"

"Hello, beautiful," he replied, tilting his face into her kiss as she greeted him, his hands tied up with cutting up veggies for whatever he was throwing together for dinner. "Good! The production is a little crazy, but a lot of fun." As should be expected with all the kids running around as part of the production. "Most of the wrinkles seem to have been ironed out. It's gonna be great!" he said, beaming an enthusiastic grin.

"Hopefully you won't have a nightmare of a technical rehearsal on Sunday," she smiled. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you." It sounded as though the moment they'd started bringing the dancers and the orchestra together for these rehearsals, all hell had broken loose, but Neville was incredibly upbeat about the whole thing. "What are we cooking, I wonder?"

"We'll probably need it!" He chuckled at her comment. As optimistic as he was about it, the theater had been a bit of a zoo lately. The Nutcracker required a large cast, including guest dancers and children, and sometimes it seemed to Neville that it was a little too much like babysitting, but everyone was so excited about the project that there had been few problems. "Stir fry?" he replied, hoping she'd find that acceptable. From the smell of things, it seemed there was going to be some chicken included in that stir fry.

"Mmm, sounds lovely," she smiled in agreement, hugging her arms about his waist lightly. Yes, she might have been in his way, but she needed that long moment of contact, hiding her face against his chest as she breathed him in.

He frowned as she buried her face in his chest and he set the knife down and wiped his hands on a towel before circling his arms around her, brows furrowed. It wasn't all that unusual for her to greet him this way, except that he'd been in the middle of cooking. "Demi, is everything all right?"

She sighed softly, raising her head to look up at him. "Sometimes it's very hard to let work go," she admitted in a quiet tone. "Especially the children. Some of them have been through so much. I have no idea if I'm helping them or not. They've lived through horrors, and they're still going. It's ....amazing and heartbreaking."

He knew better than to ask for details or expect her to divulge her clients' names or break their confidences. "You had a session with a child today, then," he said. It wasn't a difficult assumption to make, given her statement. He'd often wondered what would have happened if he hadn't gone to her for help dealing with the grief from his wife's death. She had helped him, certainly, but somehow, they had also managed to fall in love.

She nodded, leaning back. "All he wants is for his nightmares to go away," she said quietly. "It's such a simple wish. And if anything, they're getting worse. I thought we were making some headway, but his father went back into action, and the nightmares came back. All I can do is give this boy a place where he can rant and rave in perfect confidence. What do I know about recovering from torture?"

"Into action?" Neville echoed, curiously. He knew he wasn't supposed to ask too many questions, but it was hard to help her deal with these things if he didn't know what she was dealing with. "Is he a soldier?" he asked further, his expression changing as his brain registered the rest of what she was saying. "Torture"! Who the hell would torture a child?"

"Bastards, that's who," was her succinct response to his horrified response. She shook her head. "Not just him, but other children, too. They were all saved at the same time, by the same people, and it seems as though they are still in contact with each other. But this poor boy ....he was improving until his father put himself back in the firing line again. I can only assume it's some sort of paramilitary group; he doesn't know the details and I don't ask."

"Mmm," he murmured, fingers brushing her cheek as he pushed a strand of hair back from her face. "Maybe he should talk to his father about it?" he suggested, though that much seemed obvious.

"One of the reasons he's talking to me is because he doesn't want to tell his parents how much he's struggling," Demi said thoughtfully. "But you're right. The only person who can really reassure him is his father. I'll talk to him about broaching that subject next week." She managed a faint smile. "Thank you. I don't know why I didn't think of that myself."

"Because you're too busy worrying about the boy and taking his problems onto yourself to think of the obvious," he replied, leaning in to touch a kiss to her cheek, before looking her over with a smile. "You look gorgeous, but dinner is gonna be ready soon, if you wanna go get comfy first."

"I'm involved again, you mean," she mused wryly, but there was a smile on her face. Sometimes, she just couldn't help but care about her clients. Besides, if she was always detached and professional, she wouldn't be engaged to Neville, would she? His comment on her clothing made her laugh. "You're a saint, you know that' I'll go and change." She paused, rising up onto her toes to kiss him tenderly. "I love you."

He beamed a smile back at her, eyes shining with pride and happiness. Everyday, he was amazed at how much his life had changed and how happy he had become because of this woman. "Saint Neville, I know," he said, with a dimpled grin. "And I love you, too," he added, just for good measure, though she should already know that.

She purred softly, rubbing her cheek against his tenderly before breaking away, jogging up the stairs to their bedroom. Though her work look was very professional, at home she was definitely a relaxed animal. He had managed to cure her of wandering around butt naked most of the time, but that had only translated into shorts and t-shirts, even as the weather turned cold. Thus, when she came downstairs, Demi was displaying her long legs in a comfortable pair of shorts, her toes wriggling in the softness of her slippers.

And by the time she was finished getting changed, he had dinner on the table, candles lit and glasses of wine poured. He had another little surprise prepared, but it wasn't immediately obvious. He had the lights turned down, so that they were eating by candlelight, even though it wasn't a fancy meal. True to his word, they were having stir-fry.

Not just his mate, but his best friend, his confidante, his partner, his lover, and perhaps most importantly, his wife - the woman he loved. He was only too happy to reciprocate those kisses, his body reacting in obvious ways, though dinner was getting cold. "Is that a promise or a warning" he asked, as he touched his nose to hers.

Her lips curved in a slow grin. "Let's call it a promise," she decided with playful good humor, kissing the tip of his nose. "But first, we have to eat, or my stomach will rumble in the middle again."

"Yes, dear," he smirked, that smile more and more like that of his less sober brother as the days passed. He had good reason to be smiling these days and was very different from the man she had helped deal with his grief. It wasn't the first time they'd gotten distracted with each other before they'd had a chance to finish or even start dinner.

She giggled, nipping his jaw as she extricated herself from his lap. "Besides, you cooked for me," she reminded him. "I intend to enjoy it. Before I ravish you against a wall somewhere undisclosed in the house."

"You ravish me?" he echoed, laughing. "Isn't that supposed to be the other way around?" He didn't really care much either way; he was an equal opportunity ravisher.

"You can return the favor when I'm finished," she grinned, blowing him a kiss. Sitting down, her fingers stroked against the envelope for a moment before she took up her fork, making the most of her healthy appetite to enjoy what he had made for her. "Mmm ....you're getting very good at this."

"Are we talking about dinner or something else?" he asked, partly teasing and partly serious. He liked spoiling her while he could. In another few days, he'd get very busy with the shows at the theater, and it would be her turn to spoil him.

"Everything," she smiled back at him. "Although there were a few things you were already pretty exceptional at when we met, of course. I'm just the lucky cat you decided to get creative about honing those skills on."

He practically blushed at the compliment, presuming she was talking about his experience in bed, but then, she wasn't the first woman he'd ever loved. "It's easy when you have the right partner," he replied, refusing to get too puffed up with pride at her remark.

"Oh, I was very easy for the right partner," she teased him impishly. "And there's no one else right for me but you. Goodness knows how long I'd have made you wait if we hadn't been just right for each other." Though the waiting had been mutual; neither one of them had been prepared to rush into something that meant quite so much.

"How did you know?" he asked curiously. For him, it hadn't been love at first sight, though he'd certainly found her attractive. He'd been too buried in grief then, having only recently buried his wife.

"Your scent, love," she admitted almost shyly. "I tried to deny it to myself for a long time, but I knew you were the only man I could ever love from the first day we met. It's a were thing, I think."

Both brows arched upwards in astonishment. "The first day?" he echoed. He knew she'd been attracted to him at some point, but he hadn't known for how long. "How can you know, just from my ....my scent?" he asked further. Unlike her and his brother and his brother's fiance, he was not were, and though he knew some part of her had always been feline, it was not something he could fully understand.

Demi paused, trying to put it into words. "It's very difficult to explain," she told him thoughtfully. "Humans believe in love at first sight, don't they' With weres ....well, with the weres that I come from, there's a belief that somewhere out there is your perfect mate, and that you'll know them because their scent will appeal to you at every level. Your scent attracts me, pulls me in; it engages my mind and my heart. It catches the attention of the tiger in me. You have my full attention whenever I can smell you. It is almost impossible for me not to focus on you when your scent crosses my path."

"Love at first sight is really just about physical attraction," Neville reasoned. He'd certainly been attracted to Nellie, and he'd been attracted to Demi, too, though he'd been too mired in grief at the time to realize it. "They say even humans react to pheromones, even if we don't realize it."

"There are a thousand different things that tell you if someone is right for you," she agreed softly. "And barely a fraction of them are understood or even acknowledged openly. Perhaps, as a were, I had an unfair advantage. I could smell your attraction to me, as well as knowing what your scent did to my own being. I knew you liked me, but I wasn't brave enough to do anything about it."

"If you'd done anything about it when we first met, you'd probably have scared me away," he admitted with a chuckle. He hadn't been in a good place then, and the only reason they'd met was because he'd needed to deal with his wife's death, and she'd come highly recommended. "Do you believe in fate, Dem?" he asked as he finished up his stir fry.

"I'm not sure," she mused thoughtfully, toying with the last mouthful of stir fry on her plate. "I believe that some things are meant to happen, but I'm not sure I like the idea of having my life dictated before I even began to live it. That it doesn't matter what choices I make, I will always end up in the same place. It seems terribly restrictive."

"But what if we hadn't met?" he asked. He knew that, as far as he was concerned, if he'd never met her he'd still be alone. And there was the chance his brother might be dead by now, either because of a genetically-inherited disease or at the hands of a jealous were. His thoughts strayed a moment, knowing that black cloud was hanging over his head, too, but so far, he'd shown no sign of illness and all his bloodwork had come back normal.

"Then I would be alone, and some very lucky woman would be convincing you to spend your life with her, instead," Demi said simply. That was simply what she believed, refusing to accept any chance that there was some death sentence hanging over his head.

"I doubt that," he replied, taking up his glass of wine to take a sip. After the tragedy of Nellie's death, he never thought he'd meet anyone who captured his heart the way she had, but that was before he'd met the women before him - kind and caring and gentle as a kitten, at least so long as she kept her claws sheathed.

"I don't," she said, her voice soft but certain. "There is a lot in you to love, Neville. Any woman could have seen it. I am simply very lucky to be the woman who caught your attention, and I will always be pleased to be special in that way. I'm a cat, I was born to preen."

"I'm the lucky one, Demi," he told her in a quiet voice, as he lifted his gaze to look back at her. There were so many things to be thankful for these days. Meeting her had been a turning point in his life, and every day when he awoke with her beside him, he was surprised to find himself happy.

"Well, you're certainly getting lucky tonight," she assured him with a sweet wink as she set her fork down and lifted her own glass to toast him. "Why don't we finish putting the lights on the tree, at the very least, and see what happens afterward?"

"She's been the odd one out all her life," Demi told him, sympathy in her tone for Seren's distressing position. "Among wolves, she is human; among humans, she is wolf. She'll never fit in with either world. But she has a mate who loves her, and who accepts that oddity about her without judgment or criticism. That is worth more than you can possibly imagine." As he seemed to make his decision, her lips curved in a soft smile, rewarding him with a pleased purr as her cheek brushed his. "Whenever you decide to do it, I will oblige you, love."

And perhaps more importantly, Seren had a family and friends who loved her, just as Dorian did. It was strange sometimes to think how Neville had become part of this little group of weres when his entire life had been so very ordinary. He smiled, that purr always doing something to him somehow, putting him at ease and making him feel loved. "Right now, there's only one thing I'd like to do, and it doesn't involve Christmas lights," he teased, eyes bright with teasing.

"Really?" she asked innocent. "Not even if I decorated myself with them?" Her hands gestured not so innocently to the assets that had made her lingerie modeling career so lucrative in the first place as she smiled sweetly up at him. "We could cycle the setting so you have a clue about how fast or slow you should be going."

"Mmm, a tempting thought, but they'd only get in the way," he said, his eyes following the movement of her hands as his own hands found her hips to steer her toward the bedroom or the closest flat surface really.

Laughing, she reached up, curling her arms about his neck as he steered her anywhere he chose. And somewhere in that laughter was a lightness that hadn't been there before. For the first time, she knew he had made his decision; that soon, he would be like her, another tiger to run with in the moonlight on the snow. She would be able to cease worrying about the little accidents and illnesses that plagued humans having any effect on him. And wasn't that a liberating thought"

As it so happened, the closest and most convenient flat surface was the couch, the two of them giggling like children as he pulled her down with him, the Christmas tree only half decorated beside them and the stars twinkling like Christmas lights in the window. Whatever worries had been plaguing him were forgotten in the moments ahead, safe and happy in her arms. Soon, she'd keep her promise to be his wife and soon after that, he'd keep his promise to become like her in every way possible.

And who knew how soon after that they would hear the patter of little feet, and the peal of little laughter, echoing through the wide spaces of their home" Whether you called it a pride or a pack, what they had now was family, and neither one was prepared to give it up.