The Taste of Home

Chapter 2

Miguel darted out of his chair and threw himself in front of Alejandro. Isabella's claws raked across Miguel's chest, sending rivulets of blood running down his dark green scales. His bad leg throbbed from the exertion as he gripped the table to keep himself from falling.

Isabella's hands fell to her sides as her eyes widened. "Hermanito," she whispered. She shook her head, spines slowly flattening against the back of her neck as she forced them down. "Why did you get in the way?"

"Not his fault," Miguel said through gritted teeth. "He's just doing his job."

Had been doing it, at any rate. Alejandro had probably fled the restaurant, or at least left to hide in the kitchen. Miguel hadn't heard him go, but that didn't mean much considering how loudly his heart was thundering. At least he'd managed to keep Isabella from doing more than scaring him. He was safe.

The rest of the human staff trembled like newborn calves as they watched the chupacabras with wide eyes. Thankfully, none of them had called the police yet, at least not as far as Miguel could tell. That would cause too much of a commotion, especially since a pack leader was involved. Sure humans would gladly punish other chupacabras in the blink of an eye, but leaders were untouchable. To harm one would be to provoke the entire pack's wrath.

Only a few other members of Saguaro Pack had come to The Crimson Goat, but what they lacked in numbers they made up for with sheer strength and cohesion. They rose to flank Isabella as one, their spines twitching with agitation.

The other customers observed Isabella with narrowed eyes. Did they view her outburst as a sign of weakness since a low-ranking human had been enough to stiffen her spines? Or were they waiting for more of their kind to lash out at the species that caused them so much grief?

Regardless of what they thought, Isabella kept her gaze focused on Miguel, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I did not mean to hurt you, hermanito."

"I know." Miguel drew himself up to his full height to show her there was no serious harm done. The scratches were shallow, nothing a little rest couldn't fix. Still, a strained tightness crept into his voice as his leg muscles ached. "We should go."

The other members of Saguaro Pack glanced at Isabella questioningly. Blood still crusted their jaws, but they'd abandon their meals if she wanted them to. Her word was law.

"You all can stay." She dismissed the others with a wave of her hand. "I will leave, though. I wouldn't want your evening to be ruined on my account."

"It won't be," Miguel said. "Besides, I promised I'd hunt you something if you didn't like it here."

His comment earned disbelieving snorts from the watching chupacabras. Isabella silenced them with a snarl, but Miguel paid them no mind. His hunting prowess—or lack thereof—was none of their concern. All that mattered was whether he could ease his sister's stress.

"Thank you for offering, but the best thing you can do for me is rest." Isabella placed a firm hand on Miguel's arm, leading him back into his chair as if he was a wayward hatchling. "That's an order."

As the faint clicking of her hind claws faded into the night, the other diners returned their attention to their meals. If not for their muffled chatter and their usual noisy sucking being reduced to quiet sips, Miguel would have thought they were ignoring him.

But of course, they wouldn't. Couldn't. Not after a scene like that. Anyone who dared to get in a pack leader's way was bound to attract attention, let alone someone like him.

The cool touch of a wet napkin dabbing at the blood on his chest brought his attention back to the waiter. Humans never got close enough to touch Miguel if they could help it. Yet, this man crouched so close to him he could distinguish his individual scent from the rest of the restaurant's olfactory confusion: lavender mixed with a faintly greasy undertone.

"You don't have to do that," Miguel said quietly. The stinging cuts were long but shallow, meant to frighten more than harm. Nothing he couldn't take care of on his own.

Alejandro looked up at him with concern furrowing his eyebrows. "What's your name?"

Why did he care? "Miguel of Saguaro Pack."

"Well Miguel, it's the least I can do. Hold still."

Even when his light brown skin accidentally brushed against Miguel's scales, Alejandro did not flinch. He was as thin and as fragile as a bluebonnet, yet there he was scrubbing Miguel with the same care as parents cleaning their newborn hatchlings.

The other humans were far more cautious. They winced at the slightest sound as they pushed the furniture back into place before scooping up the fallen sausages with metal tongs and tossing them into a venom-proof container.

"Sorry about the mess," Miguel muttered. He bent down to help gather the ruined meal, only for Alejandro to press a hand against his chest, gently but firmly keeping him in his seat.

"Don't worry about it. And thank you, by the way. If it weren't for you, well..." He let their imaginations fill in the rest before giving Miguel a smile as gentle and bright as a moonbeam. "I'll be right back, okay? Don't go anywhere."

Miguel nodded. He couldn't if he wanted to, not with the rest of the staff watching him. A pack leader could get away with frightening some humans, maybe even hurting one. Anyone else was practically begging to get thrown in jail, especially a lowly male.

Left with only his thoughts for company, Miguel ran his fingers over his scratches. Alejandro had been thorough, not leaving a single drop of blood behind. If he'd only tended to him out of fear of how the other chupacabras would react if he didn't, he wouldn't have been so meticulous. So gentle.

He supposed Alejandro's kindness was out of gratitude. Somehow stronger than his fear, so much so that he hadn't minded the coldness of Miguel's scales on his skin. Powerful though it was, Miguel wouldn't let himself mistake that fleeting kindness for something more.

Not again.

To Miguel's utter bafflement, Alejandro returned with a small bowl full of brown goop garnished with a sprinkling of raisins and sugar. "This is sanguinaccio dolce, Italian blood pudding. I thought you could use a little something after all that excitement."

"That's really nice of you, but I'm not sure I can afford it." If it weren't for Creosote Pack paying for Isabella and the packmates who'd accompanied her, no one from Saguaro Pack could have come to The Crimson Goat at all. He doubted dessert had been on their agenda.

"This is on the house." When Miguel cocked his head in confusion, Alejandro explained, "It's free. Think of it as a thank you present."

The gesture was even sweeter than the thick, sugary pudding, and that was saying something. Miguel's teeth tingled as he struggled to scrape the excess off with his tongue.

"Would you mind waiting a bit?" Alejandro asked. "My boss wants to talk to you."

Miguel's stomach sank. There was the catch. The humans couldn't punish Isabella directly, but him?

He was as defenseless as a newborn calf.