Taste

She dreamed of nonsense things: chasing cats through a labyrinth, having long conversations about old wrongs, crossing a river on stepping stones made of cake.

 But all in all, those were better than whoever was trying to shake her awake.

 Alisha Althasson mumbled and flailed an arm at the intruder.

 "Come on," an eager voice urged, merry and male and right in her suffering ears. "We've got to go in an hour, and you know you get cranky when we're late!"

 I get cranky when people try and wake me before nine, too, she thought, but he was right. She didn't want to be late.

 She opened one eye to see Jepar's shiny morning smile. No matter what hour he woke up, he bounced from the bed as cheery at four a.m. as at midday. It was somewhere between desperately unfair and desperately annoying.

 "How long have you been up?" she said, propping herself up on one elbow.

 Those emerald eyes gleamed. "A few hours. I went for a run."

 She shuddered. "I'll count myself lucky you didn't get me up to join you. I wouldn't have thanked you."

 "Well, I got the hint last time. You remember - when you nearly battered me to death with the pillow?" There was no rancour in his voice: there rarely was. Jepar was an unfailing optimist, and despite her best efforts, she had the feeling it was rubbing off on her. "Well, come on, this surprise won't keep!"

 And of course, there was that extra incentive to crawl out of bed. Jepar had planned some sort of surprise for her, but he refused to even give her a hint of what it was. Infuriating man - wonderful, but infuriating.

 A quick shower, twenty minutes with a hairdryer and fifteen in front of the mirror, and she was ready.

 He was waiting at the foot of the stairs, and he craned his neck to peer at her as she walked down. That he still did that - still hungered for that first look - sent a warm flush running through her body. Somehow, every time he got that wide, wicked smile on his face, she felt nervous and excited and giddy again, every damn time.

 "Wow. Beautiful as ever," he declared, taking her hand. His fingers were warm and tight, twining about her own, and the familiar feel of the soulmate link swept up around her, lending a gauzy glow to her vision.

 "Handsome as ever," she replied, unable to resist stealing a sideways glance at him. She knew his face better than her own, haunted by it for long years and lifetimes, and now blessed enough to wake up to him more often than not.

 And she loved the long mouth that smiled so easily, more easily than she did. She didn't tell him that when he talked to her, sometimes she would forget about what he was saying, and stare at the deep, clear green of his eyes like a lovesick fool. She knew, too, just how his gold hair bristled under her fingers, how long it took to trace each of the dark brown patches that dotted it - the same stippled fur that his cheetah form had. She knew each ridge of his face, all fine bones and Greek nose, knew the smell of him that lingered on her pillow.

 To add to that, he was unfailingly happy. Disgustingly happy, Cougar Redfern called it. Jepar's stream of small pranks and sweet gestures was almost overwhelming, and sometimes, she had to make up an excuse so she could find some solitary place and have a little time to herself.

 Of course, there were some downfalls. He was an affection junkie: an extrovert whose appalling taste in music was matched only by his equally appalling dancing. He boogied. He actually boogied. At parties, she kept to quiet knots of conversation, but Jepar would be on the dance floor, usually with some kind of horrific hat or accessory. If there was no dance floor, he would make one.

 His friends often joined in, but Alisha could never quite bring herself to. It just wasn't in her nature, and nothing short of stomach-dissolving alcohol could get her within a foot of her soulmate's crazed jiving.

They had their differences, of course they did, but whatever divided them was overcome by one fact.

 She was an utter fool for him, a hopeless fool, and she always had been. It was just fortunate they were a matched pair of mooning idiots.

 And much as she was embarrassed by her own gooey behaviour with him, she never stopped.

"Come on," he said, and they went out of the door and into the summer sun. A short walk and a long bus ride later, they  were outside the Carat Patch, a jewellery shop whose expensive wares she sighed hopelessly over.

 She flicked a quick look at his face from under her eyelashes. Studied innocence.

 "I know there's nothing in here you can afford," she whispered as they went in, the bell on the door jingling cheerfully.

 "Ah, but what price your love?" he teased, and gave her a jolt of power through the soulmate link that made her jump. "See, I can still surprise you."

 She checked that the shop owner wasn't watching, then stuck out her tongue at him.

 "Now..." Jepar wandered over to a cabinet, pointing at an enormous jewel-encrusted choker. "How about that?"

 It was hideous. His bad taste was breaking the surface like a shark's fin, giving hints of the monster beneath.

 "It's not really me," she said with what tact she could muster. Then, thinking honesty was probably best, she added, "And it's horrible."

 He looked a little injured, and she decided to stick to tact next time. "Well...this, then?"

 Another cabinet and a pair of enormous earrings that had bells hanging from a chain. She had no urge to jangle with every step. "A little...noisy."

 "Huh." He prowled around the shop, then his face lit up. "Ah-ha!"

 Uh-oh.

 The ring he was pointing at was green. Lime green. And there was an enormous ruby stuck in the middle of it. The price tag nearly made her collapse, and the sheer ghastliness of the thing only added to her mute horror. "I don't think so," she said, but he overrode her.

 "No, no, this is perfect, it'll bring out your eyes."

 What, when they pop out of my head onto the floor? she thought, trying to jump in before he wasted his life savings on it.

 "Hey, Leonor," he called to the proprietor, who glanced up from her magazine. "Can we buy this? My girlfriend really loves it..."

 "No," squeaked Alisha, waving her hand. "Jep, it's awful-"

 He stopped short, and the most wounded look appeared in his eyes. He was pouting, and she thought she saw his lower lip wobble. Oh god. "What do you mean, awful?" he said in a pathetic, hurt voice. "I'd say it's sodding awful, myself."

 What?

 Then his expression melted into glee - he'd tricked her, the evil, deceiving cat! "You  didn't guess at all!" he crowed. "I was so worried you'd figure it out on the walk here..."

 "Figure out what?"

 In answer, he flashed a grin at the small woman behind the counter. "Can I pick up her present, Leonor?"

 The old woman reached under the counter and pulled out a black box. "Of course, dear. And come back any time you like. You do keep me entertained. You and that Redfern boy. I'll never forget the look on his face when he smashed my costume jewellery." She cackled. "Thought it was real, the poor lamb."

 Jepar gestured to the box.

 Baffled, she opened it - and gasped. It was a matched set of gold jewellery, set with mother-of-pearl. Each piece was thin and delicate, dangling earrings, a necklace with a spiralling pendant, a slender bracelet and a ring.

 "Oh my god," she said, awed. How...how on earth had Jepar of all people managed to get it so completely right?

 "Never let it be said I don't have taste," he intoned, and gave her a knowing look. "I may like Abba, and yes, I might just possess some leg-warmers-"

 "Lawks," muttered Leonor. "Even I know that's a faux pas."

 "-but I do know a little about what you like." One emerald eye flashed in a wink. "Happy anniversary."