“Time to leave, Lia,” Murmured a lithe, black haired man. Leopard, supplied the subconscious instincts and urges that Matthew struggled to keep in check. “Something tells me, the goblin-kin will be in for one hell of a surprise if they press the issue.” The ravaged looking blond man, tiger, rasped a laugh, as if it was something he’d like to see. Matthew could not care less. The scientists weren’t being forced to perform their work. They signed on knowing that if the captives ever got free, the tables would be turned.
Brandon left the lab, pausing once to check the white, industrial hallway for guards. He slipped out without a backward glance. Matthew followed, his three charges crowding close beside him. Opening the fire escape, they started up, when Matthew balked. “We should go down.”
“There’s nothing down there,” argued the woman called Lia. He wished his senses weren’t so damn fuzzy. “Unless it’s more labs. We should go up and out.”
Brandon gave him a steady look. Silently waiting for the reason behind Matthew’s words. “Generators, plumbing, everything for the bottom two levels is down. It’s going to tie into the city’s waste removal and electrical system.” The cats didn’t get it, but Brandon did. Approval gleamed in his brother-in-law’s eyes, though the emotion never crossed his features.
“And know you this how?” asked one who smelled like tiger. Skepticism turned his tone harsh as he glared at Brandon’s back. The werewolf changed directions and started down the stairs.
“I got a good look at the blueprints before my boss tranqed me.” Matthew felt like he lumbered down the stairs. How the heck did one change back into a human? He stared at one huge hand that was more paw and claw than anything else. A flex of a certain muscle group shot his claws out like switchblades. He flipped the hand over, to look at the back side. It seemed effortless when the others did it. He pushed back niggling fear that he might not be able to change back and continued on.
“You actually work here?” disgust laced the tiger’s question. Lia made a sound of disapproval.
Dealing with them helped to keep the overriding instincts at bay. He concentrated on that and not stumbling down the steps in a very uncatlike heap. Ramses would be mortified if Matthew did that. He almost smiled at the thought. Damn, he missed his snotty cat.
“Worked. Being tranqed and experimented on didn’t come under my job description. I think OSHA and maybe the ASPCA would have issues with locking people up and experimenting on them,” he shot a glare at the tiger. “And turn them into freaking big cats who want to go on safari in the middle of Dallas.”
He had to stop for a moment to collect his fraying composure. He really did want to run through the halls to see what he could flush into running. That was one of the reasons he wanted to go down instead of up. Fewer people to tempt him. The feeling was horrible. Monstrous.
“Hang in there, Ridley. You’re holding together damn good for a bitten in his first Change.” Brandon stopped at a padlocked door at the bottom of the stairs. A twist of his wrist and the lock snapped off. The door opened easily. “Most bitten wolven have to be caged for the first seventy-two hours.”
The bit of information did what it was supposed to; it distracted from his internal struggle. He had questions. Lots of them. “Wolven. Is that what werewolves call themselves?” Out of apparent danger, the agitated need to run, to be free itched like ants inside his tawny fur covered skin. The scent of the others, the cats, hit him in a visceral punch. Especially that of the female. If he wasn’t so concerned with the other things he was feeling, he’d be damned embarrassed at his body’s constant reaction to that scent. God, he wanted to envelope himself in it. Roll in it. He jerked his thoughts away from that to focus on Brandon’s explanation.
“Werewolves are killers, outlaws. Seriously, though. My brother bit a Hunter six months ago. The bastard still had to spend forty-eight hours in a cage.” Brandon waved them through the door with a more than a hint of impatience when Matthew stopped to think and get a grip on himself. The door clicked shut with an echoing thud. Very final sounding. “And Hunters are souped up big game hunting psychics. They keep going and going.”
“Like the battery rabbit, only not so pink and cuddly.” Commented the leopard as they made their way down another industrial hallway. “That bastard Carter is going to turn on you guys one day. He needs to be put down. His loyalties aren’t going to change just because he sprouts fur and howls.” This hallway wasn’t prettied up with white. It was just gray concrete block that wanted to press in on them.
“Shut up, Nathan.” Brandon’s eyes flashed red. The sense of danger rose in a flash, making Matthew want to insinuate himself between the two. The old warning about not sticking your hand in a dog or cat fight held him back.
“You know each other,” Lia said, from Matthew’s side. “You knew the scientist too.”
“Well yeah,” rejoined Nathan. “Name tags are handy that way.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” she stopped and planted herself, her gaze taking in them all. “I think it’s time for some introductions and a little pertinent information. Like how a wolven can disguise his scent and abilities enough to fool the psychics into believing he is one of them? And how can one of ours belong to their Pack? How did you show up here, in the same place?”
Brandon snorted and started walking again. “None of your business. Be happy you’re free.” She turned her head, questioning Nathan with raised eyebrows.
“I told you,” Nathan shrugged. His torn, tattered clothes and dark looks made him and Brandon look a lot alike. Except that Nathan was shorter. His dark gaze rested on Matthew. “I came for Bastet’s chosen king. The cats’ true alpha.” In their depths, Matthew glimpsed loyalty. Despite the woman’s claim of Nathan being bound to the werewolves, wolven. He felt it, too. True loyalty. Not anything his father had ever exhibited. It made him uncomfortable.
“The Leo,” interrupted the weretiger.
“Matthew,” corrected Matthew, closing his eyes against the urge to use the well of power that bubbled inside him. It was hard, but he’d had a lifetime of denying his mother’s heritage. He had the distinct feeling he was missing something pretty important here about the cat people. A lot of somethings that he might catch onto if he could just make sense of his wildly churning emotions and senses. “My name is Matthew Ridley.”
The industrial hallway ended at another padlocked door that held back the electrical humming of large machinery. Brandon took care of the lock with a twist of his wrist, tossing it into an inconspicuous corner.
The pressure of the woman’s fingers on Matthew’s arm increased. He looked down, catching a glimpse of a soft emotion as it left her face. “I am Naomi.”
“I thought your name was Lia,” Matthew’s confusion lowered his voice into a growly sound. The others didn’t seem to notice the difference. Maybe they were used to it? Hell, he didn’t know. A year ago, he only thought his weirdness was a rare genetic thing he got from his mother. He never imagined that his brother-in-law was a werewolf— No, a wolven. Or that he’d be turned into a cat person. And from the looks of it, he couldn’t even do that right. He was some fucked up multiple cat-person. Naomi’s eyes widened in surprise while the guys just stared. It took him a second to realize he’d actually said the words out loud.
Naomi patted his arm. “Each of the cat types is called a clan. Leo and Lia are the very polite addresses for the lion.” She paused, obviously leaving out a part of the explanation that might upset him. “Tigre and Tyree are the polite for the tiger families. None of the other cats remember or adhere to old titles. Usually, shape shifters call one another by species. And you’re not f’d up.” A happy sort of glowy hope shone from her eyes, reflected in those of the other two cats. “You’re just as you should be.”
“What about leopards?” Matthew asked “What do you call yourselves?”
The leopard’s half-smile made him think for a moment that he wouldn’t get a straight answer, but the dark haired man surprised him. �
�Like our lovely Lia said, panther or leopard is fine. Panthers and the rest of the leopard families have two main objectives in life. Beyond that, we aren’t much for titles. There’s no point when you have no real society.” He touched two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute that felt all too real. As did the words that followed. “Nathan Parda, at your service, my Leo.”
Matthew looked at the tiger. “Morrow,” the man answered with a nod that once again felt more important than it should. Matthew told himself to get a grip. He wasn’t any more special than he was before. If he wasn’t careful, then pretty soon, he’d be having his father’s delusions of grandeur. He didn’t want to be anything like Richard Ridley, not anymore. He slumped against a concrete wall, welcoming the presence of Naomi, Nathan, and Morrow as a living counterpoint for the closed-in space, the electrical hum, and the thump-thump of machinery.
“Hey.” Brandon’s familiar voice brought Matthew from the stupor he’d fallen into. He frowned, wondering when he’d sat down and how long he’d been out of it, cuddled between Naomi and Morrow. Nathan seemed at the ready, leaning against the free space between a grouping of pipes in varying diameter running ceiling to floor. Matthew could hear the liquid rushing through them as Brandon crouched in front of him. As usual, the wolven’s expression was unreadable. He was still figuring out the scent, thing but that was obscure too. All Matthew could discern was Brandon’s calm.
“And werewolves aren’t called that. They’re wolven.” Matthew stated, trying to get it all straight in his head. The whole were-animal culture naming scheme was a lot to absorb.
“You mean when you’re not trying to be rude?” Brandon replied, then shook his head at Matthew’s obvious confusion. “Never mind. Yeah, like I said before, we call ourselves wolven. Others refer to us by our species. Wolf.” Matthew leaned his head back against the wall. Right. That made sense. He would have been happy to drift and sort through the urges that pressed at him, except for the low sound of someone clearing his throat. He opened his eyes, focusing on Brandon again.
“You need to try and Change back into your human form,” Brandon told him. The wolven, or wolf, had carefully kept his distance. “Normally, I’d say, let nature take its course, but it’s going to be a tight fit. Plus, a naked man will be easier to explain than…” he waved a hand at Matthew’s huge golden furred, striped, and spotted form.
He nodded, shifting his weight and girth to gain his huge clawed feet with Morrow and Naomi’s help. The heavy mane fell around his shoulders, feeling both protective and claustrophobic at the same time.
Brandon shook his head, moving back as Matthew stood up. “I don’t know how, but your cats are helping you hold it together. You should be a rampaging maniac until you pass out and revert back to your base human form. I’m just hoping you’ll be able to take control of the Change.”
“He can do it.” Naomi stated with utter confidence Matthew didn’t feel. Morrow and Nathan seemed pretty confident of his untried abilities as well. The pressure made him antsy and he edged back from them as the need to be free surged through him.
“Matthew,” Naomi’s hands were small and delicate as they closed around his huge paw/hand. A claw meant for destruction. “Shhh. Look at me. Can you feel the connection?”
He did, and tilted his head a bit as he noticed all the tiny magical threads that flowed out of him. No not actual threads, but hundreds and hundreds of nerves made up of magic. At the end one of those threads was a living breathing person, like Naomi.
“I found you,” he whispered then concentrated, using his power to lightly attach the three links to himself. Morrow gasped while Naomi beamed like a proud parent. Matthew grinned at the achievement. “I found you,” he repeated, amazed. “And Morrow. And Nathan.”
“Very good. Now watch, with all your senses.” Naomi stripped off her cotton scrubs and began to Change right before his eyes. Golden fur washed down her skin. The shape of her face pushed out, forming the lioness’s muzzle and the round tufts of her ears. Her hands and body bulked up, just as beautiful as before, but with the alluring sleek gracefulness of a cat’s form.
Even the hair on her chest and belly, was beautiful. Gold lightening to a paler almost white color that covered her neck, most of her small breasts and belly with an exotic beauty all her own. Except for the odd patch of fur the size of her palm where the color was two different shades of gold, richer than her main body covering. The outside shape was the unmistakable shape of a shield. The inside swirled into the shape of a cat’s eye, reminiscent of Egyptian hieroglyphics.
“That is the Change to our fighting form,” Naomi said in her new, deeper lioness’s voice, distracting him for a second from the fur tattoo on her breast. She met the others’ eyes and lifted her chin. “Any questions?” Morrow flushed and stared at his feet.
Nathan smirked, crossing his arms over his tattered shirt. “No, my Lia. I think you’ve pretty much proven my point best with your,” he glanced pointedly at her chest, making Matthew want to rumble a territorial warning that he barely held back. “demonstration. Nothing like a map from the goddess to point the way.”
“Very funny,” Naomi snarled the words flashing a warning fang at the panther. The low rumble vibrated in Matthew’s body as she tightened her grasp on his hand. He sensed that she wanted a strip of Nathan’s hide for his remark, but let it go for his lesson in Changing. “Now to Change back. Close your eyes and let the power take you to your human form.” Matthew closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Nothing happened.
“You are not letting go of the energy,” she admonished. He squeezed his eyes harder and tried to remember what he looked like in the mirror that morning. Lean, tall guy with lines starting to fan from the sides of his eyes. Yeah. Dark hair and eyes. Two arms, two legs and all the parts between.
“Stop. You’re just standing there.” Brandon interrupted.
Naomi glared at the wolven. “And you think you can do better?”
“Yeah,” he said brushing her aside and out of Matthew’s reach. “I can.”
Matthew began to protest as Brandon waved the cats back. “No,” he waved a hand in Matthew’s face to gain his attention. “You’re just too damn calm for this. Changing is power. Its life and death. It’s fucking magic. And you can’t do it if you can’t feel it. Got it?” he waited for Matthew’s hesitant nod. “No!” he snapped as Matthew’s attention slid to Naomi. “You can’t touch her until you’re human.”
Matthew snarled at the tone of the wolf’s voice. Primal arrogance rose up inside him. How dare the wolf try to keep him from her. A wolf. The wolf stepped into his path as he turned to her, breaking the line of sight, agitating him further.
Threads of concern filtered to him from the others. Matthew lowered his head and growled at his newly perceived enemy. He stretched his hands, reveling in the powerful weapons built right into the ends. Stupid wolf, he wasn’t just one cat, but many. He discarded the lion’s method of crushing its enemy. The razor sharp leopard’s claws would shred this interloper fine. He swiped a claw at the wolf, surprised when the blow was dodged.
“Matthew!” he pulled up short at the female’s voice. “Matthew, Change back.” Come back to me. He heard the words without his ears, in the deep recess of his mind. The wolf stepped out of range and Matthew let go, plunging under the power that roared over him. He fell, drowning under the magic that ripped his fur through his skin backward and shoved his body into a smaller box.
Matthew hit the ground hard, retching and gasping for air. Every muscle in his body hurt. Even his skin was tender. He winced and flinched at the touch of fire on his shoulder, then looked up to see Naomi crouched next to him. Drained as he was, he couldn’t help but respond to her. Comfortable in her nakedness, she hadn’t bothered to put the plain scrubs back on. The tattoo/birthmark was the same on her breast, only now hairless and golden against her human skin. She was beautiful in every way.
“You did it.” The way her simple praise reached inside of him,
Matthew imagined he would do anything to hear that tone in her voice again. Instead, he gave in to the exhaustion and dropped to the cold concrete, rolling to his back to preserve some of his more tender parts. Since there was nothing he could do about flashing the room at large, he tried not to worry about it. Much. Still he had to work at resisting the urge to cover himself with his hands.
“Take a couple of moments to catch your breath. Then we need to move out.” Brandon’s face moved into his vision as the man crouched above his head. Bloody red lines marred the wolven’s chest where his claws had raked him, but he didn’t seem upset about the injury. Matthew imagined he’d be pissed to be on the receiving end of what amounted to five switchblades raked over your torso. “Don’t worry about it,” Brandon said, as if reading his mind. “I’ve had worse.” He stood up, still looking down. “Your couple of moments are up. Time to get moving.”
“He needs to rest,” Naomi protested.
“You can play kissy-face later.” Brandon’s face emptied of what little compassion was there, leaving an icy determination that Matthew didn’t like aimed at Naomi. “Move it.”
Matthew sat up, keeping himself between them. After a wobbly moment of nearly falling on is bare ass, he let Naomi and Morrow assist him in finding his balance. Hadn’t Brandon said he was ahead of the game? If so, it didn’t feel like it. Matthew didn’t like not being in control of his own body. Brandon turned and walked away, leading the way out.
“What a jerk,” Naomi muttered, though if his brother-in-law’s hearing was half as good as Matthew’s new and improved ears, then she might as well have shouted.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I think brothers-in-laws are supposed to give each other a hard time.”
She was silent as she obviously processed the news, then huffed. “First Drake and Nathan, and now the wolf and you are connected to the Anderson County Pack. I wonder if the rumors are true?”
Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V Page 7
