by Fel Fern
He shut his eyes, began to drift off to sleep when he felt a small furry body snuggling close to him. Asher opened one eye to see the cat had curled up beside him. Wary, watchful green eyes peered from that tiny face, ancient eyes.
A sudden flare of possessiveness hit him. All the signs pointed to abuse. What or who had hurt his little cat? Not his, he reminded himself. He lay awake, despite appearing asleep, aware the cat had fallen into a deep sleep. The other shifter must have been terrified, had all his shields up but had trusted Asher enough to come closer. It was a huge step, a sign this little cat wasn’t beyond redemption.
Trust was a precious gift. Asher knew that and swore to never break this little cat’s trust in him, a complete stranger. He lifted his head, saw that was now full dark. Somewhere nearby, he felt something vibrate, probably his phone. He gently padded away from the tabby shifter. The cat didn’t stir, was so still save for the sound of his beating heart, which told Asher he was alive.
Asher watched the small animal for a couple of seconds, a bad decision forming in his mind. Still, he refused to abandon the little guy, not now. He grabbed his ball of clothing, padded back to the sleeping cat and made the decision to take the stray home with him.
Chapter Two
Dan woke atop soft sheets, unable to recall the last time he felt anything so soft, so wonderful underneath him. Even better, it seemed to carry a delectable scent of someone else. Dan. Right. That was his human name. It had been such a long time since he managed to form coherent thoughts.
The cat didn’t fight him, not this time. He opened his eyes, shocked not to see leaves and trees of the park he’d temporarily made his new home, but the outline of an unfamiliar—Dan fumbled for the right word. Apartment.
His mind felt sluggish, then he realized why.
The moment he got free of the prison Chris created for him, he let his cat take over. It had been the only way to survive, because the sight of the outside world overwhelmed his senses. Alone for so long with a monster, he didn’t like the presence of so many others.
Now, what had he done?
Still in cat form, Dan didn’t move, didn’t dare. He knew any erratic movement would alert the other predator in the room, the one whose scent marked the blanket he lay on. No bars. He wasn’t in a cage, he noticed, slightly confused. What the hell happened?
Dan tried to recall the past few hours. He remembered catching the scent of bacon in the air, someone eating a sandwich, but instinct told him the guy wasn’t prey, but he’d been so hungry. Throwing caution to the wind, Dan snatched the treat, ran deeper into the park, to a place people seldom passed by.
The wolf followed him, though, the wolf with the alluring scent that didn’t trigger any instinct to run, to fight. How strange. His cat didn’t mark the wolf as an enemy, not a friend, either. Usually, Dan would disappear at the sight of someone nearby, either human or other. This time, he stayed put, watching.
The werewolf with the striking dark red hair and blue eyes could have climbed up the tree, could have easily made a grab for him, but he didn’t. Merely watched him with those grave, blue eyes, before settling on the ground.
Little cat. That was the man called him.
He dared lift his head, to take in more of the room. Not much furniture, but the stacked boxes in one corner told him the shifter who took him home had just moved in. Took him, not kidnapped. Dan didn’t know why he made that particular distinction.
Dan’s gaze lingered on the bed. Heavy snores filled the room. Rising from his blankets, he padded closer to the bed when he ought to be moving toward the door or one of the opened windows. No cages. Opened windows revealed dark rain clouds, no stars. It was day time, meaning he’d slept the entire night. Then his ears caught the first drop of rain.
He watched it turn from a drizzle to a downpour. The figure on the bed didn’t move, snores becoming louder.
It was clear this man wasn’t keeping him captive. That or he was a bad captor.
Strange. After what he’d been through, Dan should have more sense, to be wary of strangers taking stray cats home. Instead, he hopped on the bed, lingering by the edge, although he wanted to get close.
He studied the male’s gorgeous sleeping profile. The wolf didn’t sleep with any clothes on. His gaze dropped lower, found that broad strong chest. Even in the dark, he could see the old wounds.
Taken a bullet for my best friend’s mate.
Yes, Dan remembered that. A man like this wasn’t a cruel sadist but a protector. Crazy of him to be making that distinction when he wasn’t the best at judging people. After all, Dan fell for a certain tiger prince’s fake smiles, model looks, and easy laughter. For all of Chris’s perfect looks, beauty only existed on the outside. Inside, Chris hid a terrifying darkness.
Was this man the same?
Dan didn’t think so, but he shouldn’t linger here to find out. Still, he was on a fence. This man helped him think clearer than he had in days, weeks maybe. He didn’t know. Days blurred all together. When he let his cat take over, it felt like he went to deep sleep. One day, he knew he wouldn’t wake up at all, that he’d cease to be a shifter and simply become a stray tabby cat.
The thought no longer frightened him. His life held no value, not after Chris stripped and took everything from him but now—why did he suddenly want to live?
Vivid blue eyes flecked with gold opened, meeting his. He couldn’t move.
“Little cat,” came that deep, husky voice.
A hand reached out, not touching him, merely extending him to come close. Warily, he approached the wolf, sniffed at the male’s hand and instantly wanted to rub one furry cheek against the hard calluses lining his palm.
He purred when the wolf started stroking him. Then the wolf coughed, stopped touching him, and gave him a sniff. “You need a bath.”
Offended, he hissed at that comment, although didn’t argue when the wolf swung his legs off the bed. He did stink. Dan wondered if this shifter thought he was some kind of stray cat he accidentally picked up. Curious what the shifter would do next, Dan watched him put on a pair of boxers.
He took that time to admire the other man’s chiseled body, those miles and miles of tan and tempting muscle. It looked like the shifter was carved out of rock. Clearly, this gorgeous male worked out. He was sad to see that tight ass disappear into a pair of dark blue boxers, didn’t even get to spy how big the shifter’s dick was, but he was betting it was quite the sight.
Desire, long forgotten, stirred inside of him. Shocked he could remember something like that, he let the man scoop him up. He normally didn’t like it when strangers touched him, much less petted him, but he allowed this strange shifter that privilege. Dan also noted the care the shifter picked him up, gentle, despite his size.
“I’m Asher by the way, little cat. What should I name you?”
Dan privately wondered if Asher normally talked to domestic animals, although he didn’t sense a cat or dog in the apartment. Asher headed to a new room, the bathroom, and flicked the lights on. Heading to the sink, Asher set him down, looked him in the eye, stern expression on his face.
If he had a human mouth, he would have laughed. Asher looked like a drill sergeant.
“Are you going to keep still while I wash you?”
Asher turned the tap on, water hitter his fur. In response, he wiggled his body, spraying water everywhere. Asher growled. For a second, he stilled, scared he’d gotten the big wolf mad. Chris always thought up creative punishments for him whenever he challenged Chris.
Asher merely walked away from the sink, grabbed a towel to wipe the water off, and gave him a look. Dan decided to behave, deciding it was better to be taken care of instead of being outdoors, in the rain. Despite his coat, cats still preferred warm environments sometimes. So, he stayed put as Asher washed him with soap, touch unexpectedly gentle, not intrusive or rough.
Finally, Asher used the same towel to dry him off. As he examined his now shiny coat in the bathroom mir
ror, he noticed Asher looking at the old claw marks that bisected his fur.
“I don’t know where you came from, or what’s your story, but you can stay here as long as you like, until you find your next stop.”
The words were delivered in a quiet manner. He turned, facing Asher, forming his tail into the shape of a question mark. Dan tried to get a read on the other shifter, to see if Asher would take back the words.
A trick?
Dan didn’t think so. Asher’s blue gaze was steady, the fierce wolf underneath didn’t have a hint of taint or malicious energy the way Chris’s tiger did. Asher exited the bathroom, leaving the door open behind him. Dan jumped off the counter and followed the big shifter out. For a moment, he stared at the front door. Asher walked to the small pantry at the corner of the room. Deciding to see where this was going, he followed the shifter.
“You hungry?” Asher asked him as he sat on his haunches a few meters away.
His stomach growled. He could eat, despite having stolen Asher’s sandwich earlier. Before that, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a filling meal. He’d survived scavenging for food, but it was never enough to fill his belly, and he had to compete with the other animals in the park. Asher pulled out a packet from the fridge, unwrapped it, revealing uncooked bacon.
He purred in agreement.
Asher laughed and turned on the tiny electric stove. Within minutes, the smell of frying bacon filled the air. He padded closer, circling Asher’s leg, an affectionate move. Asher paused once, stooped over to caress his ears. Dan started to like that a lot.
It felt like ages, but Asher finally finished their meal, setting bacon, eggs, and some toast for him on a proper plate on the floor. To his surprise, Asher sat next to him, plate balanced on his knees.
“Bacon’s pretty much the only thing I can cook,” Asher told him.
They finished the meal in companionable silence. Dan licked at his paws after. Asher grabbed his plate and began to wash them in the sink when the doorbell rang. Terrified of the sound, he sprinted for the nearest furniture to hide under—the couch.
“Hold on a damn second,” Asher yelled.
A chill ran down his spine. Was this a trap after all? What if the food contained a drug to make him sleep? It wasn’t the first time something like this happened. The memory of Chris bringing him to his enormous house lingered in his head. Chris had his personal chef make them dinner that night, but the next time he woke, it wasn’t in the silken, expensive sheets of the grand bed Chris showed him, but in a cell.
Chris occasionally had guests over, too, who were interested in trying out his new toy. Dread filled his belly. This couldn’t be happening to him, not again.
Chapter Three
From the corner of his eye, Asher spotted his little tabby cat sprint under his couch. He sighed. What bad timing. He knew Raul or Tom would be dropping by with the some of the stuff he’d forgotten to pack, but he didn’t expect it to be now.
He opened the door. “Look, guys, I’m busy right now.”
“Busy with what? Company?” Raul asked, holding onto a small box filled with some of his books.
Beside Raul stood a blond, slender human. Tom grinned at him, holding out a Tupperware.
“Are those brownies?” he asked with interest, grunting when Raul rudely elbowed his way in.
Sighing, he got out of the way to let his guests in.
“You guys aren’t staying long, right?” he asked, noticing Tom looking around the tiny space with a frown. Of his stray, the little tabby was nowhere to be found.
“Asher, this is ridiculous. Move back in with us.”
“My decision’s final, Tom. I appreciate it, but you guys need your space.” Besides, it was nice not to have Raul remind him to clear any spillage or pick up his clothes. He loved the man like a brother, but Raul was hard to live with. He wondered how Tom could stand his cleanliness-obsessed friend.
Tom took a seat on the second-hand couch, then yelped as his cat dashed out from under the couch and right to his legs.
“Woah, dude. You got a cat?” Raul asked, setting the box down.
He bent down, picking up the tabby, wincing as claws sunk into his forearm. “They’re friends, little cat. They won’t hurt you.”
That seemed to stop all the vicious clawing, but the cat still glared at him. Okay, the tiny animal was definitely pissed. His wounds were beginning to heal already, the benefits of being a dominant shifter male, who had faster healing compared to average shifters or Omegas.
“Ouch, dude. What a scrawny thing. Couldn’t you have picked a fatter one? Wait, were you on the missing cat case and decided to take one home instead of chasing after the job?” Raul asked.
He growled at his best friend. “My little cat’s a fine choice, and I’m still fucking mad at you for sending me on a mad goose chase.”
The cat in his arms stretched itself in his arms. Understanding what it wanted, he began stroking its spine. It purred happily for him.
“Aw, isn’t it cute after all?” Tom got off the couch, chewing on a brownie.
“Hey, you know, you’re not supposed to eat the baked goods you bring over,” he reminded the human he’d grown to see as a friend.
The cat in his arms started pawing at Tom, who laughed and offered him brownie bits.
“Aw, he’s a sweetheart. What’s his name?” Tom asked, squeaking when the tabby leapt out of his arms to get more of the brownie. Thankfully, Tom caught him.
“He hasn’t told me yet,” Asher said.
Tom wore a puzzled look on his face, laughing when the cat licked at his fingers. “You want more brownies? Asher, you mind?”
“Go ahead.”
He let Tom fuss over the cat for a little bit, to see Raul by his fridge, cold beer in hand.
“Already making yourself at home?” he asked Raul.
“That cat,” Raul ventured in a low voice Tom couldn’t hear. Asher didn’t think his stray heard it, either, too distracted by the Tupperware full of brownies. “Isn’t just a normal pet, is he?”
So, Raul sensed it, too. Raul took his silence as confirmation. “Fuck, man. What are you thinking? You sure about this? Do you even know anything about him? What if he’s trouble?”
Asher clenched his jaw. “So, what if he is? I’ll take full responsibility. It’s hard to describe, but my wolf thinks he’s important.”
Raul sore under his breath. “Are you saying,” Raul hesitated, “your animal senses this rogue shifter is your mate?”
His best friend made it sound so simple, but it wasn’t, because if it was true, then he was cursed. In the first place, Asher hadn’t been interested in finding a mate, didn’t think anyone would stick around him long enough. Secondly, it was just his damn luck that his mate would be rogue.
Patience, he told the growling, angry wolf inside him. Besides, he wasn’t certain if this tabby cat was truly meant to be his, but one thing was certain, he wasn’t going to give up hope that someday this rogue was going to turn back to human form.
Thankfully, Raul and Tom didn’t linger. After convincing him to come to dinner next week at their place with Jax and Winter, they left.
He sat on the couch beside the tabby cat, who licked at the last remnants of chocolate on his paws.
“You know that isn’t healthy.”
The cat hissed at him in answer, but nonetheless jumped on his lap and curled up there, as if he assumed Asher had nothing better to do but pet him. Asher supposed since the guys at the office were willing to wait until he was fully healed, then he’d take advantage of that.
“I’m never going to give up on you,” he told the little cat. “Take as long as you need, but nothing would make me happier than for you to tell me your name from your own lips.”
* * * *
I’m never going to give up on you.
Eight simple words, and yet they played on a loop in Dan’s mind over the next three days. By then, he’d shamelessly lived with Asher as a freeload
er. He even went so far as to sleep next to the shifter in bed. Asher never protested once, except for that one time he accidentally unsheathed his claws when Asher didn’t keep to his side of the bed.
The werewolf didn’t seem to mind him heading in and out of the apartment whenever he wanted. As a result of his explorations, he knew the layout of Asher’s neighborhood by now. Thanks to the collar Asher got him, he wasn’t worried about being netted and sent to the pound. The thought of wearing a collar unsettled him at first but when Asher explained he might be mistaken for a stray, he decided it was a necessary precaution.
That morning, Dan noticed Asher rushing for work. Asher’s profession, he gathered, was a private investigator. He flipped open Asher’s wallet one time. He wasn’t surprised the werewolf did something that was physical.
“I’ll be back late, need to spy on a cheating husband,” Asher told him at the couch where they ate their meals, mostly because a dining table wouldn’t fit in the studio space.
Late. Somehow, that didn’t sit well with him. Dan gave Asher a look, but Asher only rubbed his head. “Be good. I promise to get you a treat.”
Dan wasn’t appeased. It made him spoiled, but he didn’t like it when Asher took so long to come back home. Okay, he shouldn’t blame the man. For one, a guy like Asher probably had a busy social life, had single shifters throwing themselves at his feet. Asher was certainly sexy, big, and unexpectedly sweet—a potent combination.
Sometimes, the lure of getting to know Asher better as a man, as Daniel Potter and not Asher’s little cat, was tempting. However, he was terrified to turn back to human form. Being a cat was better, because no one, especially not Chris, could harm him, much less find him. The city was a big place, and there were plenty of cats everywhere.
