Since the loss of The Leo, the far-reaching feline empire had slowly moved apart. Males, always restless, wandered, looking for something they could never find. Females often grouped together to bear and raise their kits in safety. Still, there was always a basic loyalty that demanded they were on the side of the cats when it came to the other animal groups. Despite the abandonment of Bastet, leopards and cheetahs foretold the return of the Leo like Christian preachers warned of the coming of Christ. Be ready. He is coming. He is coming.
She shook off the fancifulness with a little shiver. Matthew Ridley’s ability to Change into multiple cat forms was based in science, not because a long dead or dismissive god had finally taken interest in the clans again. It didn’t mean that Nathan’s beliefs and life-tasks were true.
Not liking her thoughts, Naomi turned her attention back to what Matthew’s house told her about the man. Like the rest of the house’s furnishings, it was masculine. The sheer amount of the iron pieces led her to believe that he either spent everything he earned on acquiring new ironwork, or he made them himself. She’d expected a different atmosphere for a powerful psychic. Except for the Van Helsing-style Hunters, most were bookworms, soft knowledge-seekers that shied away from the supernatural. Morrow’s irritated growl and the spike of power in the air jerked her from her introspection, drawing her attention to the living area.
As expected, the wolven were in full aggressive mode. Unexpected, they weren’t about to attack Morrow. The human-form tiger, and the wolves circled a surprised human at the front entryway. Nathan appeared from the hallway, with the cat in his arms. Ramses growled and hissed before jumping down, fluffed and affronted. His tail stood straight up in the air.
“Who are you people?” The man’s pallid skin and bloodshot eyes didn’t appear healthy. “What’s going on here?” he swayed. The reek of alcohol might not have been obvious to another human, but to a room for of shape shifters, it was overpowering.
Morrow looked to Naomi. The wolves looked to their leader, Gavin. The leader held up a hand and peered at Naomi. Full circle, she frowned and glanced at Nathan. He shrugged and crossed his arms, his irritation transforming into amused curiosity.
“My task is to serve the Leo, my Lia.” Rather than deny Nathan’s linking her with Matthew, she growled irritably and advanced on the disturbance before they woke him up. Leo or not, the man had been through hell yesterday and deserved some rest before the serious decision-making took place.
“Matthew!” yelled the drunk man. His red-eyed gaze focused on her as she entered the circle and travelled lewdly over her t-shirt and boxers. “Well, well. Mebee the boy isn’t so limp after all. Matthew! You two-faced little bastard. You had a party and didn’t invite your old man.”
“Hello.” She offered a smile, hoping it was welcoming, and held out a hand in greeting. “I’m Naomi.”
“Heh-heh. I’ll just bet you are.” He listed to one side, missing Morrow’s deep throated sound of disgust and Gavin’s disgusted lip curl. “Where’s the booze?”
“I could kill him for you,” offered the wolven. “As a freebie.”
“Let me.” Morrow said.
“No. That is probably not a good idea.” Naomi tried smiling again and reached for the man’s arm. “Nathan, could you call a taxi? We can wait for it in the kitchen.” Out of sight and hopefully out of earshot of the others.
“Matthew!”
“Ever-loving Chri—” Matthew erupted from the bedroom, followed closely by Brandon. Bandages seeping blood clued her in to the fact that he hadn’t been sleeping after all. She’d just been too wrapped up in her own problems to try untangle all the conflicting sounds, scents, and energies that seemed to build up when too many supernaturals were in close confines. “Dad.” He sighed and pushed past the wolven to take his arm from Naomi. She didn’t blame him for putting himself between his father and her. The man wasn’t well and was obviously a null or too drunk to focus. Normal humans were vulnerable.
“You didn’t invite me to…to yer party, you ungrateful bastard.” Any resemblance he had to this man faded under the ugly mask of anger. “Where’s the booze?”
“I don’t have any, remember?” he pulled the man toward the kitchen in a strong grip. “Nathan did you call that taxi?”
“Yep. Ten minutes.”
“Ish too a party.” Matthew’s father tried to pull away. His red-rimmed eyes roamed the group and finally settled on Ramses the cat, sitting on the end of the couch. “Damn cat. Always watching. Judging. Like yer bitch mother.” Matthew held up a hand at Brandon’s warning growl. “I keep telling you to get a manly pet. Not a pussy-cat.”
“He’s a drunk. Let it go. If I can deal with it for this long, you can for a few minutes. ” Matthew’s spoke to Brandon. After a moment of hesitation, the wolven nodded. He too looked like he’d gladly kill Matthew’s father. With a tug, he pulled the man to the kitchen. “Come on, Dad. The taxi will take you home to your own bar.”
“What’d you do to yerself?” The note of paternal concern almost made up for his earlier scene. “I don’t remember you so beefed up. You beef up; you shouldn’t be such a wimp. Yer gay aren’t you? Damn but that’s a shame. You should be tappin’ that bitch in there.”
The iron wrought chair skidded a bit as Matthew dumped his father into it. “Shut up, Dad.” The words were quiet and tired. “I’m not gay, but it shouldn’t matter if I was. Just shut up before I let my guests eat you.”
Naomi drifted into the room, followed by Nathan and Brandon. Everyone else seemed speculative over Matthew’s last remark, but wisely stayed behind. “We wouldn’t eat him,” she tried giving Matthew an understanding smile. When that failed, she opened the cabinet and took out a mug, filling it with coffee from the pot she’d made earlier for the wolves. Taking a guess, she loaded it down with sugar. “Eating two-legged and sentient beings is generally considered taboo, if not tacky.” She set the cup down in front of the inebriated man. “Go ahead, Mr. Ridley. The coffee is very good.”
“My son makes sissy coffee.” The red eyes fastened on Naomi’s chest. While not greatly endowed, she was braless and it showed.
“I made it.” She resisted the urge to cover her chest.
“Oh.” He picked up the cup and slurped, setting the cup down with a shaking hand. “Needs whiskey.”
Her mother always said that the best way to combat rudeness was with grace. Going back to the coffee pot, she poured a cup, handing it to Matthew as if she did such a thing every day. She fixed her eyes on his father, looking for a weakness other than the obvious. And if grace didn’t work, crush the throat and rip out the heart. “You have to start with good coffee beans. And Matthew has exceptional taste in beans.”
“I don’t know beans.” That much was obvious.
“What a shame,” she murmured as she picked her cup from where she’d left it on the table earlier. Plastering the fake smile across her face again, she leaned forward across the glass tabletop. “Tell me, Mr. Ridley. What is it that you do?”
The man looked up from another sip of coffee and blinked. “Do?”
“Yes. For a living?”
Surprisingly, he laughed. A tittering giggle that made him slide sideways. The man really was sloshed. Matthew sighed and appropriated his father’s coffee cup before it met its demise against the tile floor. “Dad doesn’t do anything. He sued the company he used to work for a minor work related injury. Then he turned around and sued his doctor for malpractice.” Someone in the front called out that the taxi had arrived, saving him from anymore explanations. With a look that thanked the powers-that-be, Matthew hauled his father out of the chair. “Time to go, Dad.”
Naomi followed as he half dragged and half carried the man through the house and out the front door in a well-practiced move. At the taxi, she watched in fascinated pity as he propped him against the car and reached into his father’s back pocket, coming back with his wallet, and extracted a couple of bills. He opened the back door and maneuvered
the man inside, then slid the wallet into one of his front pockets. After shutting the door, he waited for the driver to roll down the passenger window.
First he gave the address, then he handed the driver the money. By the look on the driver’s face, it was more than enough. Matthew waved away the offer of change. “Hopefully, this should cover fare and all the grief he’s going to give you. The doorman will help with the unload.”
The taxi driver pulled away under Matthew’s watchful eye. Naomi took the opportunity to study him better. In nothing but sweatpants that rode the tops of his ankles, the man was divine. He had broad muscular shoulders, without being over muscled. A cut from a silver blade ran over his shoulder blade and shoulder. A leftover from last night’s escape. As her eyes inventoried what was revealed by the soft, conforming, sweat pants, he turned around. Caught mid-ogle, she felt herself turning red. She hadn’t wanted him to know that she found him…what? Interesting? Attractive?
Amusement tugged at lips that looked more used to being pressed into a line than a smile and small lines fanned from the corners of his eyes. Had she thought him ordinary? Her heart stepped up a notch. No, he was ruggedly handsome. His hand was hot on her elbow as he touched her, making her jump. “Let’s go inside. We have a lot to talk about and very little time to make decisions.” Decisions? Her earlier interest fled. She didn’t want to be mated on the basis of symbols and a religion that hadn’t done anyone much good since before the birth of Christ.
I can speed that up. Tuna.
Matthew stopped his ground-eating stride, which she was having trouble keeping up with, and looked down. “Tuna what?” The humor he’d looked at her before disappeared. His mouth thinned and she could see a small muscle tick in his temple. Strangely, his scent didn’t match his facial tells. He didn’t smell angry or curious at all, but his hand did tighten on her elbow.
Tuna for dinner. Demanded Ramses. The cat’s gold eyes fixed on Matthew without blinking. Only the twitch of the cat’s tail showed his absolute delight in tormenting his ‘owner’. The kind of tuna that comes in a can. With lots of gravy.
“Coffee,” Matthew said as he jerked his attention from the cat. He practically shoved her ahead of him and almost locked the cat out as he shut the door behind him. Nathan opened his mouth, only to have Matthew put up a single finger as he walked by. “Coffee. Then breakfast.” Naomi pulled on her arm, unnerved by the strangeness of his attitude. He let go, seeing her for the first time since Ramses demanded his tuna. He looked at the clock. “Okay. Coffee, then lunch.”
Tuna! Tuna, tuna, tuna! Tuna, tuna, tuna! Ramses followed him into the kitchen belting out his song loud enough to make the rest of the Werecats wince. Tuna, tuna, tuna! Scrambling up onto the counter he waited impatiently while Matthew opened the cabinet and pulled out a paper plate and a can of cat food. Without a word, Matthew pulled the tab and removed the top. He upended the can and shook out the fish and gravy that had the cat dancing on the countertop. Hey! I get to lick the lid! Don’t throw that away! He protested Matthew opening the lower cabinet door, and the trash can underneath. I always get the lid!
Matthew paused mid-toss and eyed the cat without saying word. Ramses head butted his arm, purred and did a little air-kneading with his front paws. I want to lick the lid. The demand was much softer as he head butted Matthew again. With a sigh, he relented and held the lid out for the cat to clean.
“Watch the edges. They’re sharp,” he warned, watching carefully while the little pink sandpaper tongue licked every bit of gravy goodness from the lid. Setting the paper plate on a bare end of the counter, away from the stove and other kitchen appliances, he left Ramses to the rest of his meal.
He ordered twenty pizzas before sitting down with a fresh cup of coffee. Naomi hesitated, unsure as to what to make of his mood, then simply sat beside him. “That was nice.” Becoming the sudden focus of his attention made her heart step up again. She nodded at Ramses, blissed out and face down in a plate of tuna chunks and gravy. “The lid. And well…the taxi.” She ducked her head, knowing she’d way overstepped.
Matthew took another drink of coffee, with the same madding single-mindedness he’d had since he came out to find his father surrounded by aggravated wolven and werecats. “He’s not going to shut-up, is he?” Naomi opened her mouth, then shut it as she glanced back at the cat. Matthew shook his head and rubbed at his forehead. “No. I mean, it will never be normal again.”
Naomi smiled at the lost look that was peeking out from his eyes and in the slump of his shoulders. She wanted to steel herself against liking him, found out that it was too late. “What is normal?” She touched his hand with a fingertip, warming as his eyes met hers. “In my world, it’s perfectly normal for temple cats to sing for their dinner.”
“So he’s that way because he’s an Egyptian Mau?”
“Nope.” Nathan dropped into another chair and took a sip of the coffee he’d poured while she’d been focused on Matthew. “Your temple cat is like that because you have spoiled him rotten.” He shook his head as the cat licked the plate, scooting it toward the wall as he mentally hummed the tuna song. “Sweet, but that would drive me nuts inside a week.”
Naomi pulled back, frowning at the other two. “What do you know of tending temple cats, nomad? They are rare treasures. Innocents who must be protected from those who would exploit their gifts.”
Matthew nearly choked on his coffee. “I hate to break it to you Lia, but that cat is no innocent. He’s a conniving, manipulative, sneak thief.” He winced as the tuna song began again, soft and happy. “And his singing is horrible.”
“He wouldn’t have picked you if he didn’t feel you were worthy.” She glared at Nathan. Some devout he was! “Some believe that temple cats are a sign of Bastet’s favor.”
“Food’s here.” Gavin strode in, tall blond, and muscular, looking like a Viking hauling in his treasure. He dropped it on the counter with a hand flourish. “Lunch is served. Or at least a midmorning snack. ” Two more wolven toted in pizza and set them with the others. He waved as Matthew stood up. “Don’t worry, I got it.”
Matthew frowned, but didn’t say anything. Walking to the cabinet, he pulled out the stack of paper plates, ignoring Ramses questioning meow, and passed them out. After the boxes were cleared of food and everyone settled more or less into a corner, Matthew set his own plate down.
“You know Gavin, the last fourteen hours have been pretty…” He paused, obviously searching for just the right word. “interesting for me. And I really appreciate the last-minute save and ride home.” He picked up a slice, taking a bite as the wolven party leader froze and focused on him. Naomi imagined that anyone else would have been unnerved by that look. With a glance at Nathan and Brandon, she amended that. She would have been unnerved. Matthew swallowed his bite and met the wolven stare for stare. “But that was last night. It’s a new day and I bet you guys have lots of stuff to do.”
Gavin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. The effect was a quick baring of teeth that did nothing to put Naomi at ease. “As far as guests go, we’re not that bad. We’re mostly housebroken and no one’s eaten your cat.” He took a bite of pizza, swallowing without chewing. “And we bought breakfast.”
Matthew didn’t look amused or derailed. “Other than Brandon, we’re not your kind. And he’s from another Pack. So, I don’t think your being here is for his benefit. BioPet is hot for your species in particular as lab rat candidates. Which I more or less mentioned last night. And they’re right in your own backyard. “
“Correct me if I’m wrong—I’m working on a learning curve here. But you seem like a loyal right-hand man sort. So, I assume you’ve already reported everything to your boss and you’re still here on his orders.”
“You’ve got a knack for the obvious, kid.” Gavin looked down at his plate to find it empty. He tossed it on top of one of the empty pizza boxes. “So, what’s your plan now?”
“That’s not really your business,” replied Matthew,
walking to a narrow door that turned out to be a pantry. He pulled out a large black trash bag and began making a round of the room, throwing away paper plates and pizza boxes.
“Anything supernatural in our territory is our business,” said Gavin. Matthew froze, the cat inside him having heard the challenge, roared in response. The call blasted through, jerking her upright with an indrawn breath. It was a roar, a possessive heartbeat that rode the mystical link connected him to all things magical and feline. Nathan and Morrow felt it too. Ramses hissed, arching his back in response. Matthew’s eyes gleamed from brown to lion’s gold. Faint stripes appeared, shadows of the tiger that enfolded him from his collarbone, wrapping lovingly around his abdomen to disappear in the shadowed rosettes just above his waistband. The wolven Pack growled as the power level in the room rose to painful proportions.
Gavin Changed, the man’s body stretching into that of a silvery blond wolf-man. Clothing tore, stretched to its maximum limit. His body bulked up as hair flowed over his skin. Claws made for tearing supernaturally tough skin erupted from his hand. His feet overflowed his soft tennis shoes and he shook the cheap ruined remnants from his body with the ease of practice. Filling his hands with fabric, the wolven pulled the remaining fabric from his body. Throwing back his head, the leader of the wolven hunting Pack, howled out his challenge to Matthew.
“Oh. Shit.” Nathan’s voice whispered past Naomi as his hand closed on her arm and pulled her back with a solid jerk. She found herself behind both Nathan and Morrow. Intending to find a way around, she growled when Brandon’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. Instinct made her bare her teeth. He was wolf, one of the intruders. “No, Lia.” His purposeful use of the title made her pause when all she wanted to do was go to Matthew’s side. “It’s a Challenge. We can’t interfere.”
Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V Page 11
