A Cat’s Tale
by
Melissa Snark
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
A Cat’s Tale
COPYRIGHT Ó 2012 by Melissa Snark
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Angela Anderson
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, January 2012
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-215-6
Published in the United States of America
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author of this work of fiction
acknowledges the following trademarks:
Jimi Hendrix: Experience Hendrix, LLC
The Stones: Rolling Stones Records
Marilyn Monroe: Estate of Marilyn Monroe
Rally II wheels: General Motors Corporation
Dedication
To my friend, Elanor,
for all of her support and feedback,
and always being willing to put up
with one more round of werewolf spam.
A Cat’s Tale
Somewhere between Virginia and California
It happened in a nowhere town at a shithole bar off the main highway somewhere between Virginia and Los Angeles. Jared Kohl pulled off to get a drink and a burger. Okay, more than one drink, and a pile of burgers. But a werewolf had to eat and it took more than just one shot to get him buzzed. Whatever the case, he never did get to order.
The bar was dim and cheap with its 60s themed movie and rock posters, and a jukebox pumping out Jimi Hendrix and The Stones. Jared took a seat at a corner table where he could stretch out his long legs and appreciate the classic image of Marilyn Monroe and her billowing white dress.
As a stranger to this community, he was bound to attract attention. Jared measured a neat six-four and two hundred twenty pounds of pure sinewy muscle. His dark brown hair had gotten too long, so stubborn curls tumbled across his forehead. His neat mustache and beard covered only his chin, framing his mouth. He was handsome and knew it. He had his father’s good looks—broad forehead, strong nose, generous mouth, and square jaw. From his mother, he’d inherited startling topaz eyes. A cleft divided his chin.
As distracting as all the eyes upon him were, Jared got hard the second he scented her—rich and musky and designed for fucking. His posture remained relaxed as she walked up behind him. He did not glance up until she ran a hand over his shoulder. Her fingernails were painted fire-engine red and sharpened to points. The light scratches she left on his skin healed thanks to his regenerative ability.
“So a werewolf and a werecat walk into a bar…” Her voice was low and husky, pitched to create a seductive resonance within a man’s crotch. Beneath the pheromones, he smelled sadness and anxiety, which intrigued him more than the blatant come on. She seemed more complex than she wanted to let on.
Jared looked up from his drink to get hung up on a pair of pretty knees clad in white stockings and red lace garters encircling slender thighs. Her plaid skirt was the right length of short, stopping just shy of crotch level, low enough to tease him. She wore a prim white button-up shirt with a collar and rolled sleeves. Her skin was Asian mocha, and her hair was black and worn in pigtails secured with red ribbons. Her almond-shaped eyes were bright blue with slit pupils. The ornate gold collar around her neck seemed incongruous with the outfit. She was working the Japanese schoolgirl angle hard, but he judged her to be in her early twenties. Sometimes, with shapechangers, it was hard to tell.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Jared said. “Does the wolf eat the pussycat?” He smiled, showing a hint of fang. It had been a while since he’d eaten and he was hungry enough to consider her the entrée. Jared met those cobalt eyes but did not worry about dominance. He was smart enough not to get into a staring contest with a cat.
“Does the wolf want to eat the pussycat?” She trailed a suggestive hand down his chest and then sat on his lap. Unless he was mistaken, she wasn’t against the idea of being splayed and licked. Hell, she might go for biting if her kink was pain.
“It’s been a while since I last ate,” he said. She wasn’t what he expected of a werecat. But then he’d never met one until she walked up and sat in his lap, so he was free of preconceived notions.
“You’re new to town,” she said. “Are you here with your pack?” Oh man, she was leading him without any subtlety. He smelled the trap big time.
“I’m on my way to LA,” he said. “Sorry, but I’m afraid it’s just me.” He watched her reaction, trying to figure her angle. She had fire and spirit, and the air of a creature abused.
Her smile widened. “So, you’re a lone wolf?”
“Not exactly,” Jared responded with caution. He shrugged. “It’s more a matter of circumstance than choice. It’s complicated.”
“I like complicated men.” On his lap, she shifted, rubbing her buttocks against his swollen cock and working the denim for friction.
Jared sucked in air between his teeth. Oh yeah, a baited but obvious trap. “What’s your breed?”
Anger flared in her cobalt eyes. She withdrew several inches away from him. He held up a staying hand. “I only meant—” Fuck, what had he meant? “Are you Persian? Burmese? You smell like a purebred.”
“You know cats?” She seemed thrown. Mistrust glittered in her pretty eyes, causing her mask of sophistication to slip. “I’m Siamese.”
He grinned. “My mom had a Siamese. He was a crazy cat.”
“What happened to him?” she asked in a way that could only be described as catty. “Was he eaten by a werewolf?”
“Sol passed away at the ripe old age of twenty-one,” Jared said. At twenty-six, he had grown up with the cat and loved it a great deal.
Restless, the werecat shifted. He smelled her fear—fear of him. His protective instincts rushed to the fore. He opened his mouth to ask why when she twisted on his lap to straddle him. With a glance, he got a good look at her crotch as the skirt bunched up high across her thighs. She had no panties on and a manicured pussy—Brazilian waxed.
“Want to fuck me?”
Jared swallowed hard. She hadn’t bothered to ask his name. No doubt, it was a trap. Jared nodded and followed her out of the bar anyway. He wanted to fuck her that bad.
****
“Sweet ride,” the cat said, rubbing her painted fingertips across the leather seats of Jared’s classic, American muscle car.
“Thanks, she’s got a V8 6.6 liter 360 horsepower and Rally II wheels. I rebuilt her transmission myself,” Jared said with a wolfish grin. He reckoned that the amused glimmer in the cat’s bright eyes was at his expense but he could have cared less. He loved his baby.
“Show me how fast she goes,” the cat said. Her hand caressed the gear shift, and then slid to his denim-clad thigh.
“Oh yeah.” Jared swallowed so his Adam’s apple bobbed, and stepped harder on the gas. He felt ready to explode. It was a fucking miracle he hadn’t wrapped the car around a tree.
As it happened, the werecat lived in a mansion outside of town. Jared parked in the gravel driveway beneath a willow tree. He followed her inside, cautious but confident in his ability to h
andle any trouble the cat might throw at him.
“Nice place,” Jared said, glancing around at the antique packed main room. “Does it belong to your grandmother?”
The cat shot Jared a glance over her shoulder. “My aunt,” she said. Her scent and body language underwent a subtle alteration.
Jared gave her a sharp look. He smelled the lie. “Really?”
“Great aunt.” She poured him a drink of dark amber liquid in a brandy snifter. She hadn’t asked if he wanted one; she prepared it.
“Did your aunt give you the fancy collar?” Jared envisioned a strand of blue sapphires about her slender throat instead of the gold necklace.
“It was a gift from an admirer,” the cat said.
“No offense, but your admirer has gaudy taste.” Jared allowed his glance to shift from the collar to their surroundings and the bright floral wallpaper. In his mind, the existence of a great aunt remained very much in question.
“That’s true,” she laughed with forced humor. She placed the drink in his hand, and then ran her hands over his body, seeking to distract him. It worked.
“What’s your name?” Jared asked. He slammed the drink back before glancing around the room. Unlike her, he kept his hands to himself. The scent of fear remained prominent about her. She aroused his protective instincts and compelled a sense of caution. If curiosity killed the cat, Jared would be the next victim.
“Does it matter?” she asked, cocking her head.
His brow rose. “Hell yeah, it matters.” Jared sniffed and then sneezed. The room was stuffy and dusty, and a blanket of incense obscured everything else. It reminded him of a funeral home or a Catholic church.
“Is that frankincense?” He sniffed again and identified an underlying odor. Something…dead. Jared worked to identify the source of the offensive scent but was distracted as his vision blurred and his thoughts clouded. He dropped the brandy snifter and it shattered on the hardwood floor.
“You drugged me? Why?”
Jared stared at her, surprised in spite of everything. He staggered, fighting to keep his balance as the potent drug sapped his strength.
She stared at him with great blazing blue eyes and bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I had no choice.”
Jared opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. He blacked out before he hit the floor.
Day 1
Jared woke on his back to a cold cement floor. He still had his clothing but everything else—his watch, cell phone, and wallet—was gone. He noted the silver bracelets on his wrists in spite of the throbbing in his head and aching of his body.
Jared had almost rolled over when the sound of angry female voices stopped him. He laid still and listened, hoping to recover his faculties before they noticed he was awake.
“Mistress, please, I beg of you! Let me live! The male I’ve brought you is as fine as any cat.” Jared identified his treacherous werecat by her voice and scent.
A different, more refined woman laughed. It was a cruel sound and the scent of death lingered about her like heavy cologne—vampire.
“Oh please!” she said. “You must be delusional, except even you aren’t so stupid. This wolf is unacceptable. Do you think I haven’t learned about werewolves in the last fifty years? They’re killing machines—tanks with claws and fangs—and they hate vampires. You’ll bring an entire rabid pack down on top of us!”
“No, Mistress, please,” the cat pleaded. “All wolves aren’t the same. This one is submissive. He claims no pack; I asked him myself. He’s traveling alone. Only a low status wolf driven out of his pack would do so. I believe he’s some pack’s castoff Omega.”
“Where do you come by your information?” the vampire demanded, sounding skeptical.
“I did some research,” the cat said. “I saw a documentary on wolves and I looked it up on the Internet. Please, believe me. Give him a chance. He can be trained to fulfill your needs.”
From his posture of dead opossum, Jared almost blew it then and there. He developed a painful stitch in his side and bit the inside of his mouth to stop the laughter.
“I don’t think…” The vampire trailed off, voice full of temptation and doubt. “Werewolf blood is said to be a rare delicacy.”
Jared chose that moment to issue a dramatic moan and roll over. He opened his eyes to survey his surroundings. The room was no more than three-hundred square feet. He was inside of a smaller iron-barred cell with walls but no windows. The cell contained a cot and a folding chair. A small doorway showed a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and countertop with a chipped rectangular mirror. There were wall-mounted security cameras outside the cells.
Jared grabbed hold of the iron bars and exerted his massive strength. They held. He would not be able to bust out using conventional werewolf tactics. Both women fell silent, watching him.
Across the hall, the werecat occupied an identical area. The cat paced near the bars and no longer looked human. She had shifted to a form midway between human and feline. She wore no clothing, but remained bipedal with arms and legs, hands and feet. Her fur was short and fine; cream-colored on her main body and dark on her face, ears, legs, and tail. From the look of it, she was a seal point Siamese. Oh, and a fucking anamorphic wet dream. Screw the stupid schoolgirl uniform.
Jared stared at the vampire through the bars. She was no more than five feet tall and of slender build and willowy limbs. Her straight chestnut hair fell past her shoulders and parted in the middle at her widow’s peak. She wore an old-fashioned rose-colored chiffon dress. Her floral perfume could not mask the underlying scent of death and decay.
The vampire’s eyes were light brown and Jared met her gaze without hesitation. He more than halfway expected to feel something—awe, hypnosis, or a contest of wills. “Heh, not even tingles,” he bragged with a wolfish grin.
The vampire pursed her lips and glared harder, staring him straight in the eyes, hoping to accomplish…something. Finally, she sighed in disappointment and rolled her eyes.
“What’s wrong? Can’t command me?”
“Cats are my animal,” she said. “Don’t let it go to your head, wolf. The silver bracelets will prevent you from shifting and, if you are unwise enough to persist, then they will cut off your hands.”
Jared glanced at the silver bands on each wrist. “Good to know,” he said with a careless shrug. “What’s your name?”
The vampire betrayed her surprise. “You’re not what I expected for a werewolf.”
He mustered a weak smile. “I’m Omega, right? Omegas are the most subservient of wolves. Miss Kitty seems to have me all figured out, so what’s the point of faking a display of aggression or defiance? The bars are too strong to break, so I’m gonna do whatever you say anyway.”
The vampire frowned. “You could be lying.” Her doubt betrayed her youth and impotence. Older vampires could smell a lie. Jared made note of the information; no doubt it would prove useful.
“Lying about what?” Jared asked. “If I were a dominant then I’d be making threats and ripping out the fixtures.”
“Why aren’t you?” the vampire asked. He noticed the hunger in her expression when she looked at him. Her gaze lingered on his throat at the pulse point.
He put his hands on the bars and attempted to shake them. “This feels damn solid to me, so it’s obvious I’m not going anywhere. I have to live in here so if I trash it, then I’m hurting myself. Besides, if I were to get out, I’d have to get past you, the other vamps, and the silver jewelry that stops me from changing. So it seems like I’m stuck.”
“I find your agreeable attitude pleasing, wolf,” the vampire admitted with a smile. “I am Evangeline.”
Jared gripped the bars in the both hands and leaned forward, pressing his face close to the bars. “Pleasure to meet you, Evangeline. I’m Jared.”
“Are you hungry, Jared?” As she spoke, fangs peeked from beneath her upper lip. Clearly, her focus on food stemmed from a personal interest.
&nb
sp; “Hungry enough,” Jared responded. His posture appeared relaxed, his long body at ease. She couldn’t dominate him, but he wondered how he might affect her. Deciding to test the waters, the werewolf allowed his power to seep into the room, casting his net.
The vampire met his gaze and then fell under the sway of his magnetism. “You have the most remarkable eyes,” Evangeline murmured, strolling closer.
“Have you ever sampled a werewolf before?” Jared asked, careful not to push too hard. A vampire was not a human to be manipulated or cowed. If Evangeline realized his game, it was all over.
The flash of greed on Evangeline’s face betrayed her. “I have heard it is a…powerful elixir.”
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’d like to demonstrate my cooperation. If I submit and allow you to feed from me, then I’d ask for a token in exchange.”
Evangeline licked her lips. The vampire’s eyes flashed red, and she could not disguise her bloodlust. “What do you want?”
“I want the cat who betrayed me. I overheard your conversation. You’re going to kill her anyway and I’d like to play with her before I eat her.” Jared turned his head to stare straight at the treacherous cat.
The werecat flinched in fear, and her fur rose across her entire body. The cat’s eyes widened with absolute terror and she emitted a long hiss. “No, Mistress, please. I beg of you!”
Jared glared at the cat. “I will make you pay,” he promised. The scent of her fear was delicious.
Evangeline smirked. “Done.”
****
Josephine huddled in the corner of her cell, watching with horror as the werewolf bargained with the vampire. The wolf’s power was greater than Josephine had imagined. How he had hidden it? The enormity of her miscalculation frightened her senseless. Jared’s stare was hard, cold, and blood-thirsty. Once the bars were no longer between them, those topaz eyes promised to exact an awful vengeance for her duplicity.
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