Pride

“Do you live around here?” I asked after a moment’s hesitation.

To my surprise, the stray cocked his head to one side, as if in question. Or confusion.

“Here.” I raised my left arm to take in the immediate surroundings, and the cat jerked. No sudden moves, Faythe. He’s already jumpy. “Do you live in these woods? On this mountain?”

That time he bobbed his head once, then tossed his muzzle toward the north.

“You live that way?” I asked, and he nodded again. Suspicion sent a vine of doubt twisting through me. Keller hadn’t mentioned any werecats living near his territory—only loud, obnoxious invaders.

I glanced toward the north, as if I might be able to see his home through all the trees and brush—not to mention the mountainside—and thus verify his claim. And when I turned to face him again, the stray stood less than five feet away, still watching me. He’d distracted me, then snuck up on me, and I’d fallen for it, thrown off by his apparent cooperation.

“Clever kitty.” Unlike the last stray, this one was neither sick nor confused, so I saw no reason not to gut him if he pounced.

The cat’s nose twitched again, and his whiskers arced forward. He froze, and his ears swiveled one hundred and eighty degrees, listening to something outside the range of my regrettably human ears.

Marc and Jace? Please let it be them.

Eyes still on me, the stray began to swish his tail slowly. His ears returned to their normal position. I had his full attention now, and could practically see eagerness in his very feline expression.

He was preparing to make a move. Either Marc and Jace were too far away to worry about, or they were close enough to rush him into action. I was betting on the former, since I could neither hear nor smell them.

I swallowed thickly and inched another step to the right, my spine still pressed against the tree, the knuckles of my right fist scraping against bark. “What do you…?” Damn it, yes-or-no questions, Faythe. “Do you want something from me?”

The stray bobbed his head again, and a soft, low-pitched bleating sound rumbled up to me. He was purring, now less than a foot away. His gaze was glued to my face, his mouth open, teeth exposed.

Unfortunately, I was pretty sure I knew what he wanted, and “companionship” didn’t quite cover it. That was the problem with being one of very few tabby cats in existence. The supply doesn’t meet the demand, so those demanding often got a little…eager.

The cat closed the distance between us. My heart thudded in my throat. He nudged my left hand with his head, and I tried not to flinch. I consider uninvited physical contact grounds to bite off some part of the offender’s body.

My dull human teeth would only piss him off. But even with it behind my back, my knife was inches from his throat. I could end our little standoff with the press of a button and one quick slash.

But he hadn’t actually hurt me, or even really threatened me, so killing him seemed a little…rash.

Dread settled into my stomach like sour milk at the realization that unless I was willing to kill him, I had no real recourse, other than cooperation. I spread my free hand, hoping to pacify him—though the very thought of playing along struck discordant notes of fury and disgust in me. He rubbed one cheek against my palm, much as Jace had done minutes earlier. He was replacing Jace’s scent with his own, effectively claiming me.

My skin crawled with revulsion. Casual physical contact among littermates or Pride members was both accepted and expected. But between strangers, it was an insult. A threat. A social faux pas about the size of the Grand Canyon.

I told myself the stray probably didn’t know that; he hadn’t grown up in our society. But I had, and I couldn’t help feeling disrespected. The best I could do was cringe quietly, knowing any resistance I gave could get one of us hurt, if not killed. And since survival trumped pride any day of the week, I was more than willing to play along. Just not happily.

I was just getting a handle on my own revulsion, when a feline snarl ripped through the forest from a distance, shredding our pretense of friendly petting as well as the eerie hush around us.

The stray froze beneath my hand. My fingers went still and my eyes closed in silent prayer. The snarl hadn’t come from Jace, but I had no doubt it involved both him and Marc, and that it was the reason they had yet to arrive.

Leaves crunched at my feet, and suddenly my hand was empty. Something tugged on my jacket sleeve and I opened my eyes to find my left cuff pinched between the cat’s front teeth.

“Hey, let go!” I demanded, summoning anger to replace the fear curdling the contents of my stomach. Fear cripples you, but anger helps you fight, and I now knew without a doubt that I would soon be fighting. “You do not want to know what happened to the last cat who pissed me off.”

Okay, technically all I’d done was scratch the end of his nose with my partially Shifted teeth, but the cat before that…He’d gotten his brains splattered all over both me and several square feet of dry brown grass.

In response to my blatant but evidently unbelievable threat, the stray rolled his eyes—an oddly human gesture for a cat—and tugged urgently on my sleeve.

What he wanted was clear. It was also not going to happen.

“Uh-uh!” I shook my head. “No way in hell am I going to wander off through the woods with the first tom who rubs up against me.”

The stray growled fiercely, and my pulse thundered in my ears. My nose picked up a sudden surge of the stray’s scent in the air. He was pissed, and likely scared, and his body was releasing extra pheromones to warn everyone near him. Which would be me. Only me. All by myself.

However, even if he was trying to help me, I couldn’t leave Marc and Jace behind, especially when one or both of them might be injured.

He pulled my sleeve again, hard this time. “You can’t just grab strange girls and start dragging—”

But apparently I was wrong, because he planted his rear feet firmly in the ground and gave my jacket a mighty yank. I had to brace a hand on his shoulder, curling my fingers in thick, unfamiliar fur to remain standing. The next tug moved us several feet, me hunched over and tripping in the meager moonlight, him stepping quickly and confidently, even moving backward.

“Stop it!” I shouted on purpose this time, hoping Marc and Jace were close enough to hear me. But my words gave the stray no pause. The time had come for more offensive measures. Damn it.

I drew the knife from behind my back, slamming one finger down on the button. The blade popped out with a satisfying metallic thunk. “You’re not giving me many options here,” I warned as his eyes lit on the blade, gleaming in a stray beam of moonlight.

He growled again, and for a moment, neither of us moved. Then he braced his front paws on the ground and jerked me to his right by my arm. I stumbled, off balance, and only remembered to swing the knife up at the last second. But that was a second too late.

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