Cats in Heat

by Asha King

  Moonlight poured through the windows and lit the living room. Addie was crouched on the floor next to where he’d been sleeping, her hands raised and fingers splayed. Her eyes were wide, lips were forming words he couldn’t quite make out—he still heard his own steps beating across the ground, the jeers of the crowd.

  Awake. You’re awake.

  You’re safe.

  He came back to himself and sagged, brick fireplace scraping his back. His hands shaking, he lowered the fire poker he’d grabbed, tried to calm down.

  “You’re okay,” Addie was repeating. “Erik?”

  But he remembered the dream, remembered the danger he was putting her in by being here.

  He tried to rise but she reached for him, took his wrist and pulled him back down. Her small hands were firm, strong.

  “Talk to me,” she said softly, her fingers drifting down to twine with his.

  Erik crouched down again, stared at her. If her home was a sanctuary, he had to be hidden. It was just a dream, he wasn’t thinking clearly.

  Was he?

  “Erik?”

  He swallowed dryly. His chest still rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to get his breathing under control—he felt like he’d actually been running.

  Pillows waited around him; he cleaned them up during the day but at night she always put them back on the floor where he slept. It was a sweet gesture, and he felt bad that she worried about his comfort. But she didn’t know how he didn’t trust kindness, still.

  Though looking at her, moonlight threading silver through her hair, her eyes on his, he thought maybe she did know.

  She was in the dream.

  Erik let out a breath, cast his gaze aside. A strange embarrassment rose up in him.

  “Erik?”

  He pulled his hand from hers, turned to settle back down once more. “Just a nightmare. I’ll go back to sleep.” But as he tried to lie down, he felt her hand run up his shoulder. Soft, warm. The gentleness hurt more than being hit did.

  She moved, her arms wrapping around him, and he let her. Let himself be cradled in warmth and kindness for just a little while.

  “I saw you...run,” she said at last, and cleared her throat. “I think. I can’t remember the last time that happened and I never knew if...”

  How could she not know what she was?

  He turned, found her on the floor next to him, her head propped on a pillow. He stared down at her; if she tilted her head back just slightly, her lips would be inches from his. Heat rushed through her body, warming him where their flesh made contact. Her lips were close enough to touch and he felt himself sinking closer and closer. His entire body craved her, cock hardening, wanting to roll her on her back, feel her beneath him, touch every part of her.

  But you won’t because you’re not good enough.

  He reined himself in, tried to focus on anything else. His eyes lifted so he was staring at the ceiling instead but he couldn’t quite force himself to let her go or tell her to leave. Instead he shifted, got his arm under her, and held her tight to him. She crossed her arm over his bare chest, her fingers brushing his side below the bandage and sending tingles through him.

  “Am I crazy?” she whispered.

  Not the first time she’d asked that and the more she said it, the more of an edge her voice seemed to take on.

  “You’re not crazy,” he reassured her. “You were...in my dream.” Memory.

  “How long had you been there?”

  The complex? He couldn’t even remember anymore. He didn’t know for sure how old he even was. “Four or five years there, I think.”

  “Before that?” She snuggled in deeper, which only intensified his want of her.

  “I ran for a few years. Hid.” That was when he’d escaped his previous “owners”. They’d kept him for his own good, they’d said. Ever since his parents were...exterminated. Run, hide, captive. Over and over again.

  The day Lincoln bought him after winning in the ring was perhaps the worst, though. Because his fate had been sealed and he knew he’d never have a chance to win freedom, never run again.

  “Tell me about your grandmother,” Erik said before she could ask more.

  She tensed, even seemed to hold her breath. But her grandmother, he was certain, held the key—that history would explain things for him.

  “My grandmother lived here,” she said at last. “I spent some time with her growing up. She was crazy. Institutionalized. She died there when I was little. When my mother died, I inherited her house and what was left of her things.”

  The barebones story, her voice light and casual. But it was enough for him to fill in the details.

  “Your grandmother wasn’t crazy and neither are you.”

  “Well, you turn into a tiger. You’re not really one to judge.”

  He wished he could make her believe, that he could explain, somehow. Explain how much danger she’d be in if someone like Lincoln found her and figured out how she is?

  “You’re safe now,” she whispered. “You’ll be safe from now on.”

  And that nearly broke him. Because she knew—she’d been there, she knew. She just glimpsed him as a mad animal, tearing through everything in his path for freedom. She didn’t know everything he’d done before, everything he saw.

  And hopefully she never would. Lincoln could never be allowed to find her, even if that meant he had to leave.

  Chapter Nine

  Awaking tangled up with Erik Monday morning was initially comforting until her brain had totally woken up, and then it was about ten levels of awkward.

  She didn’t have time to dwell, not with it being a work day. She spent the morning running the administration desk at the community center and the afternoon had another bellydancing class to run. It wasn’t much but it kept the bills paid so she didn’t have to dip into her inheritance.

  The afternoon wound down, class ended, and soon all the ladies were on their way back home. Addie saw them off and then returned to administration area to log the attendance. Classes were pre-paid but inevitably toward the middle of the course, people stopped showing up and she liked to keep track of everything.

  The community center was silent. Fluorescent lights above hummed while she worked. Internally she cursed the fact that she’d left her iPod in her purse, locked in a storage cupboard near the front, but it was just as well. She didn’t need the distraction.

  Plenty of distracting thoughts are awaiting me at home.

  Her lips twisted in a wry smile at the thought. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant distraction.

  Even without looking out the windows, she felt the storm clouds gathering yet again. Little natural light filtered in. The schedule pinned to the board beside the computer showed no one was due in until later that night when the Havelock Martial Arts Club met. She’d ensure everything was straightened up and then head home.

  As she logged off of the computer, she heard the front door open around the corner.

  Steps shuffled on the floor quietly. There was nothing particularly odd about it but the fine hairs on the back of her neck rose. She slid out of the office chair swiftly, rising to inch around the desk, tense from head to toe.

  She hadn’t gotten far when two figures stepped around the corner.

  Her eyes went first to the woman: tall and svelte, with pale smooth skin and hair the color of blood that hung straight over her shoulders to just below her breasts. She wore black leather, pants and a motorcycle jacket, but with nothing to show the logo of a biker club. Hard, piercing blue eyes stared at Addie.

  The man next to her was forgettable by comparison. Where she was stock-still, shoulders thrown back with confidence, he was fidgeting and wiry like a reed in the wind. Shaggy brow hair was swept back from average brown eyes. But though he might look forgettable, he gave Addie pause. Nearly every inner alarm bell she had was shrilling.

  The pair of them completely blocked the doorway and she suspected it was intentional.

  Addie
tried to smile. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “We’re new in town,” Mr. Forgettable said with an equally forgettable smile that seemed forced. “I understand there’s a fighting club here?”

  The seemingly innocuous question didn’t ease her worries at all. “A martial arts group, yes. In fact, they meet tonight. Would you like some information about signing up?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  She avoided his eyes, trying to quell her body’s desire to tremble and focusing instead on finding the brochure and contracts for the martial arts class. She located them tucked beside the desk and retrieved a copy for the man, intentionally not bothering to give him a pen in the hopes that he’d take the information and fill it out elsewhere. She forced out a kind smile as she took two steps from the desk and handed it to him. “Here you go. Bring the form in with a check before one of the meetings and they’ll get you signed up.”

  He accepted the papers but didn’t glance at them, simply folded them once and continued holding her eyes. “Thank you. My wife is interested in any new age clubs you might have.”

  Addie didn’t glance at the woman, though she felt her unwavering, cold stare boring into her. “New age?”

  “Crystals,” the woman’s crisp voice broke in. “Healing. That kind of thing.”

  Addie chanced a glance at her, swallowing nervously. “We don’t have anything like that around here.”

  The woman continued to stare, as if she rifled through Addie’s brain for the secrets she kept. After a few moments of silence, she seemed satisfied. Both Biker Chick and Mr. Forgettable abruptly turned and left.

  Addie let out a heavy breath and leaned against the desk, still tense and waiting. Once she heard the steps fade and the front door open and close again, she bolted forward and peered around the doorway.

  The community center’s glass doors revealed the couple exiting into a red sports car in the parking lot. They didn’t dwell, instead pulling out and disappearing down the road in seconds.

  While she didn’t catch the license plate, she didn’t think she’d need to—that car would definitely stand out in town. She might have to ask around later to find out who the hell they were.

  The unsettled feeling that had overcome her when they entered the community center remained. She paused only for a moment to tell herself maybe she was overreacting when her instincts kicked in. If she was this uncomfortable, she had to trust there was a reason.

  Immediately she rushed back to the office to get her purse from the lock cupboard, slipped on her running shoes, turned off the lights, and bolted from the building. She locked the door behind her, stuffed the keys in her purse, and ran.

  ****

  Erik paced the living room, his rational mind arguing the gut feeling telling him Adelaide was in trouble.

  He felt it, a tug against his breastbone that seemed to jerk him in to the northeast of the house, as if there was a string connecting them. He felt panic rush along that string with an edge of fear but not pain, not worry.

  Of course, he’d never felt anything like that in his life and could be wrong, could be crazy. But nothing seems out of the realm of possibility when it comes to Addie.

  He felt at war, in a constant argument with himself. Part of him screamed to go and find her, wherever she was, and ensure everything was fine. But then he hadn’t survived as long as he had by running purely on instinct—he had logic. He’d know, somehow, if she was truly in danger, and he couldn’t risk her future safety to follow mere worry now.

  It was the only thing that held him back: the sense that she was coming closer to the house, to her sanctuary, and knowing that if he left he would be exposing her to more danger as soon as his presence was sensed. So he paced the length of the hardwood, gaze shooting to the clock on the wall as the seconds ticked by. His side ached with each heavy breath still and his head throbbed the longer he was on his feet, but he didn’t plan to sit until she was either in the house or he passed out waiting.

  Steps faintly crunched on the gravel driveway, swift and light.

  Erik froze for an instant then spun and headed for the door just as it opened.

  Addie crashed inside, breathless, slamming and locking the door at her back. Her hair was in a ponytail that had twisted to the side, black hair curling into tendrils damp with sweat around her brow. She leaned against the door and let her purse thump at her feet.

  Erik was at her side in moments, eyes scanning her in a rush for any injuries. “What happened?” He reached for her shoulders, touching her as if to assure himself everything was fine. His fingers dragged along her shoulder, up her neck, cupping her jaw and tilted her head back so her eyes met his. “Addie?”

  She studied his eyes and then let out a heavy breath, shoulders deflating, as if whatever she saw in him released some tension in her. He didn’t wait for a response, instead pulling her into his arms instinctually. Despite her strength and iron will he’d seen over the past few days, right in that moment she felt small and vulnerable.

  And I swear on everyone I’ve lost, I won’t let harm befall you.

  “There were people,” she mumbled against his bare chest, her arms wrapped around his torso. “They didn’t do anything but I thought...I don’t know, maybe I’m crazy. Paranoid.” She twisted and looked up at him.

  He breathed in, the world around them going away. That thread connecting them seemed to tighten and warmth spread through him everywhere their bodies made contact. Her lips parted, seeming to beckon him, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, taste her, take her.

  But he gave himself a mental shake as his brain caught up with his body.

  There were people...

  “What people?” he asked abruptly.

  Addie blinked as if she just came back to herself as well. “What?”

  “You said there were people. Who were they?”

  She stiffened and reluctantly he let her go so she could step back. “Why? Should I be paranoid?”

  Yes. Hell, YES.

  “Whoever you’re running from—are they here?” she asked.

  He still had no idea how to even broach the subject. She’d already had to accept a whole lot with his presence here, sure, and keeping someone ignorant never solved anything, but...

  “Erik?” she prompted.

  “What did they look like?”

  “No.” She stepped farther from him, abruptly hit the front door, and then skirted around him, back up like a spooked animal cornered by a predator. “I get to ask the questions now. Tell me what is going on.”

  “I just think you should be careful is all.”

  “Why do I need to be careful?”

  Erik took a deep breath. “Because not everyone is as they seem. And I don’t want you hurt.”

  “Is someone after you?”

  “Yes,” he relented.

  She hadn’t stopped backing up and he restrained himself, avoiding moving forward as she clearly wanted distance between them. “Are they in Havelock? Did you lead them to my town?”

  Since he hadn’t left the house upon arriving here, he didn’t think Lincoln or his lackeys would have his location narrowed down, but still... “Maybe, but—”

  “And am I in danger for keeping you here?”

  Yes. As much as he wanted to reassure her—as much as he wanted to reassure himself—he couldn’t entirely say for certain, not unless she started answering questions. “That depends on you.”

  Addie halted. “Excuse me?”

  “I need you to tell me about your grandmother.”

  “I don’t need to tell you a goddamn thing! I am not the one keeping secrets—I am not the one who shows up on someone’s doorstep half dead begging you not to call the police!”

  “No, you’re the one who saved me from death, Adelaide. You’re the one who healed me.”

  She stared at him for a moment, her eyes huge with pink around the edges as if they threatened tears, her chest heaving with angry breaths. Then her lips s
napped shut and she turned, thumping down the hall. Her bedroom door slammed before he could follow.

  He stood there for a moment, running his hand back through his hair, staring after her.

  That...could’ve gone better.

  He could leave. That would be an easy solution. But if Lincoln was near? Or someone he employed? If they caught him near the house, it would be too easy to find Addie. Until he found out who she saw and whether or not his enemies were in town, he couldn’t risk it.

  For now, he’d wait. And hopefully Addie would talk soon.

  Chapter Ten

  Adelaide stripped off her sweaty clothes and paused half-naked by the door, debating a shower. She needed it, she felt grungy, but then for all she knew, Erik was hanging outside her door and she still wanted to avoid him.

  She was angry. And hurt. In fact, the intensity of how upset she was startled her. She’d felt things she was certain he’d felt, experienced dreams through his eyes, and her heart ached at the mere thought of him. Every fiber of her being trusted him—at least every fiber but those in her brain, which objected to the fact he’d been keeping things from her, cryptically talking around her questions. And to bring up her grandmother?

  Hell, no.

  For a few minutes she chewed on the possibility of heading to the shower and risking running into him. The way she felt, it would lead to more yelling and she wasn’t certain she wanted to get into it with him.

  Instead, she turned to face her room once more. Shower later. For now, she needed information if she wanted a chance in hell of being on even ground with him. His words wouldn’t leave her head and she knew, one way or the other, this somehow went back to her grandmother.

  First she shook her hair out of its ponytail and then wound it up in a bun, then hunted down fresh clothes. A ragged T-shirt and oversized track pants were tucked in the very bottom of one of the drawers, and she slipped them on.

  Next she went for the closet where a trap door sat in the ceiling with a cord hanging down. She couldn’t reach it on her own and had to drag out a step ladder tucked behind some boxes. She stood on the rickety old thing and tugged at the cord.