Bitten by a Hellcat

by Felicity Heaton

  She was no tame kitty and she didn’t want a collar, and that was exactly what the male hellcat intended to give to her.

  Plenty of fiery females of her race had met their end in a piece of steel and leather, reinforced by magic to subdue the wearer and place them under the control of another.

  Their ‘mate’.

  That wasn’t the life for Cait, and if she had to run forever, she would keep on running until she met her true mate, the one fated for her.

  She glanced across the heaving nightclub towards the shadowy corner where the big dark-haired male lurked. She could feel his eyes on her and she refused to let him fluster her. She was safe here. He couldn’t do anything in such a public place except glare at her.

  If he were foolish enough to try, the staff would step in to protect her.

  The owner in particular would. Kyter had always been good to her whenever she had braved leaving Hell to visit his club. He would keep the big male away from her.

  Maybe the man opposite her would too.

  There was something about him that drew her to him. He felt dangerous for a mortal, an edge of darkness lacing his scent, and power. There was a sense of menace in his looks too, in the intensity of his fierce gaze. He was right and he was a man who could handle himself, despite the fact he was mortal. That sensation of danger had drawn her gaze to him the second she had walked into the club and the sight of him had stopped her in her tracks.

  He was handsome, an example of male perfection with his high cheekbones and defined jaw that framed a straight nose, sensual bowed lips and eyes that shone with intelligence and confidence, and a glimmer of darkness. His short dark hair, black jeans and shirt were a contrast to the paleness of those eyes that made them stand out even more.

  They were green.

  She had been itching to know their colour since setting eyes on him. With every change of song, she had come close to leaving the dance floor and approaching him, barely stopping herself and then finding the strength to resist when the next tune began.

  She had given up her fight against his dark allure when Kyter had spoken to him and she had realised that the male knew the big jaguar, and had heard their conversation. One of the perks of being a hellcat. She could tune out any noise in order to focus on one in particular. She had snooped, and what she had heard had been enough to pique her interest and shatter her weakening will to resist approaching him.

  A hunter.

  His pale green eyes darted between hers and she could sense his eagerness as he held her hand close to his lips, on the verge of kissing it. Cait wanted to push her hand forwards and make him do it, as eager for him to kiss it as he was.

  She played it cool instead.

  “I’m not sure I should promise to make your wildest dreams come true when I don’t even know your name.” She smiled and he echoed it, his profane lips curving wickedly again.

  For a mortal, this male was dangerous beyond all expectation, but she didn’t mean it in the violence and strength sense this time. He was dangerous on another, intimate level. He wreaked havoc on her body and her control, every smile or glance pushing her closer to the edge and making her want to give up the charade they were playing and kiss him.

  He wanted her.

  She could see it in his eyes and feel it in the way he touched her, his light caress making her burn inside.

  She wanted him too.

  The game they played was pointless and stupid. Dancing around their mutual desire only made them have to wait longer to get what they wanted.

  A taste of each other.

  She had waited too long as it was, passing years without a male’s touch, leading a solitary life in Hell. She had grown bored of the hunt and the thrill at the end of it almost a century ago, craving something more than brief trysts with males, even when she pretended that hunger didn’t exist. She had decided long ago that she would spend her life free of the complications of relationships and she had stuck to that plan for countless centuries.

  That vow had shattered the moment her gaze had met his across the nightclub.

  He had awakened desire in her again, passion that had been dormant and now felt as if it would consume her, need that burned so fiercely she feared it might rage out of control if she didn’t find a release for it soon. Just a glimmer of satisfaction.

  A single kiss would do.

  For now.

  She twisted her hand in his, reversing their positions, and brought his hand to her lips. Her eyes held his as she pressed a kiss to it and breathed him in, his rich scent of spice and fire, and something else branding itself on her senses. What secret did he hold that gave him the strength to fight demons and powerful fae and survive? Whatever it was, it was in his blood, lacing his scent, making it dark and alluring.

  His pale green eyes narrowed on her lips where they pressed against his callused large hand.

  “Owen,” he muttered and then his voice gained strength as he straightened and lifted his eyes to hers. He looked as if he was gauging her again, studying her reactions. “Owen Nightingale.”

  Cait could see why he had been watching her closely now, eyeing her like the hunter he was, no doubt putting everything about her to memory so he could note it all down later.

  Including how she reacted to hearing that he was a member of the most illustrious hunter family to have ever existed.

  Did he think she would turn tail and run on hearing that he was a Nightingale?

  She wasn’t afraid. She was impressed. The perfect and handsome Owen had just become a shade more perfect for her.

  “I’m Cait, with a C.” She twisted their hands again and shook his.

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “Like Cat, with an I?”

  She shrugged and nodded. “My parents thought they were being cute.”

  Owen looked her over, a leisurely raking of his eyes from her head to her toes that set her on fire.

  His expression gave nothing away, not a single thought or feeling.

  “Maybe they thought you were cute and deserved a cute name to match.”

  Gods, she wanted to ask what he thought but bit her tongue to stop herself. “Most people don’t think hellcats are cute.”

  “I’m not most people.” That flicker of wickedness was back in his eyes as he gave her another once over. “But I can’t really judge whether you’re cute or not since I’ve never seen a hellcat in their true form.”

  Cait narrowed her gaze on him and shot him a sultry smile of her own. “I know you’re dying to see me in just my fur.”

  He looked as if he might blush, but rallied and fixed her with hungry eyes that left her in zero doubt of his desire. “I wouldn’t say no to seeing you naked.”

  She flushed all over, hot from head to toe at just the thought of getting naked with him. She leaned closer, reached her right hand out, and stroked her fingers down his chest. It was as hard as steel beneath the soft material of his black shirt. She heated further, burning hotter as she raced to imagine just how good he would look naked, that honed body on display for her hungry gaze to devour.

  Cait wrestled for control over herself and won, refusing to let him fluster her when she was trying to fluster him.

  She tilted her head to one side and looked deep into his piercing green eyes. “What’s your view on interspecies relationships? You must like tangling with other species since you’re a hunter.”

  His sensual lips quirked into another smile. “I’ve tangled with many species… but never with a hellcat.”

  “No?” Cait leaned closer, feeling a little breathless as she narrowed the distance between them. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  Owen mirrored her, moving closer, his heat washing over her and his heart thumping like a drum in her head, a beat hers tried to match.

  “I think I do know.” He raked his dark gaze over her again and scrubbed a hand down over his mouth. “But I wouldn’t say no to finding out.”

  Her heart fluttered again and she wriggled
on her seat, tempted to take him up on that offer. She needed to do some business with him first though. Pleasure could come later.

  He was a Nightingale. The Nightingale. The infamous Owen. Last hunter of his bloodline.

  Her best shot at survival.

  “I have an offer you can’t resist.” She slipped her fingers between the buttons of his black shirt and drew him closer still. “I need you to do a job for me.”

  A brief flicker of disappointment crossed his handsome face before his expression hardened, turning too business-like for her. She hadn’t meant to douse the fire that had been burning between them, not completely. She had only meant to dial it back a few degrees, from inferno to wildfire, for as long as it took to convince him to take a job from her.

  Cait rubbed the material of his shirt between her fingers and thumb, her eyes holding his, even when she accidentally on purpose shifted her hand forwards an inch, bringing the backs of her fingers into contact with his bare chest beneath his shirt. His eyes instantly darkened again, the fire flaring back into life in them.

  Just the way she liked it.

  She was beginning to crave that way he looked at her, as if he might die if he didn’t get a taste of her soon.

  “You can name your price.” She slipped her fingers deeper into his shirt and pulled him closer, so their faces were only inches apart and an urge to kiss him filled her again. His eyes dropped to her lips and they parted, anticipation curling through her as a voice deep in her heart begged him to kiss her instead. “I have plenty of money.”

  His gaze turned hooded. “What if I don’t want money from you?”

  She swallowed hard and her courage faltered. “I’m not sure. I’m not the sort to turn tricks for anything.”

  Not even her life.

  She couldn’t blame him for putting it out there though. The heat between them was intense, stoked mostly by her and her flirting, and he could probably tell she was close to crawling onto his lap and rubbing herself against him. She frowned at that. What was it about this dark hunter that had her itching for a taste of him and unable to deny the urges running rampant through her?

  He was gorgeous, and radiated danger at an intoxicating level, and she always had like men with secrets.

  “I wasn’t talking about sex,” he murmured, loud enough for her sensitive hearing to pick up even with the music pounding through the busy club. His green gaze lifted from her lips to lock with hers. “I was talking about you shifting. I want to see you… I need to see you.”

  Fire blazed through her, heat so intense she couldn’t contain it. It scalded her cheeks, sparked by what he had said and the earnest desire in his eyes, a look that backed up his words, instilling them with the need and want he had mentioned.

  Cait nodded. “You’ll get to see me in my cat form, and I’ll pay you… ten grand… if you do this job for me.”

  He looked satisfied with that offer. “And the job is?”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it again when a trickle of fear ran through her, doubts surfacing as she realised what she was asking him to do. She didn’t want the male hellcat after her anymore, she wanted him dealt with, but how far was she willing to go to achieve that? The male was strong and determined. What if he hurt Owen? What if he killed him? Could she live with herself knowing that she had gotten the man sitting in front of her killed?

  Owen sighed. “I’ve seen that look before. Believe me… you’re not the first to wonder whether I’m up to the task… and believe me… you won’t be the first I prove wrong when I’m the last man standing.”

  The venom in his tone and the determination that flashed in his green eyes told her that he was a man who didn’t like having his abilities questioned. She hadn’t meant to anger him but she had clearly done just that by pausing to think over what she was asking him to do, and she hadn’t even done it because she doubted his abilities.

  She had done it because she feared having to watch him die.

  She managed a half smile. “I don’t doubt you’re up to whatever task you set your mind to, Owen… but I’m guessing you’ve never fought a hellcat before?”

  His left eyebrow rose. “Another hellcat?”

  She nodded. “A male. Let’s just say he thinks like the rest of his kind and believes I ought to just hurl myself at his feet and be his breeding bitch… and I’m of the opinion he can go fuck himself.”

  His eyebrow dropped and both of them dipped low above eyes that only grew darker when she took a deep breath and tugged the right side of her corset up to reveal the bruise on her ribs. The blow that had caused it had knocked the wind out of her and had pushed her close to shifting from the pain.

  “Are they broken?” Owen reached out to touch the bruise but she dropped her top and smoothed it back into place to stop him, afraid of how she might react if he laid his hands on her.

  She wasn’t sure she would be able to stop herself from touching him back and from there it was only a brief hop to making out with him right here in Underworld and right where everyone could watch. She wouldn’t care about the audience either. The passion and need boiling within her were so intense that once she started with Owen, she wouldn’t be able to stop until she had burned them out, and probably worn Owen out too.

  “No,” she said when he lifted green eyes to meet hers again, seeking an answer. “Fractured… but healing.”

  “When did this happen?” He looked back down at her side, his gaze so intense she felt sure it would burn a hole through her corset.

  “Around two hours ago… in an alley near here. I was ambushed… we fought… I escaped.”

  Owen frowned and lifted his eyes back to her face, a beautiful dark edge to them, one that promised death to whoever had hurt her. “And the male?”

  She slid her gaze off to her left, towards the shadowy corner where he still lurked, watching her with Owen.

  “Let’s just say he’s too close to me for my comfort.”

  Owen looked out of the corner of his eye in the direction she had and the dark slashes of his eyebrows dipped lower. Cait had thought his eyes had held a promise of death before. She had been wrong. The look that had been in them a moment ago was hearts and flowers compared with the one that filled his green eyes now, turning them stormy and deadly.

  Cait told herself that she was doing the right thing. Owen Nightingale was infamous. The best hunter there was and a specialist in shifters. If anyone could help her, it was him. He was her best shot at freedom. Her only hope.

  She waited for him to look back at her before she poured all of that hope into a question that would pin it all on him.

  “Will you take my job?”

  CHAPTER 3

  Would he take her job?

  Owen looked back towards the person she had surreptitiously pointed out, a huge dark-haired man loitering in one of the many corners of the crowded club but not completely swathed in shadows.

  His blood began a slow boil at the thought that the man had ambushed Cait just two hours ago, making her have to fight to escape and injuring her in the process. The shifter was exactly the sort of mark he had gone after countless times—a male who thought that females could be subjugated and were put on this planet for their pleasure, created to be at their beck and call.

  Little more than a slave.

  He narrowed his eyes on the male as the immense shifter looked at him, holding his steady gaze and showing him that he might have Cait running, but he wouldn’t get the same reaction out of him.

  Owen had put down plenty of his kind.

  This male would be just another misogynistic bastard to add to his tally.

  He dragged his gaze back to Cait where she sat opposite him, all of her confidence gone, leaving behind a woman who looked smaller and vulnerable to him.

  In need of his protection.

  He had only just met her, but he didn’t like seeing her this way, the light disappeared from her eyes and all of the brightness gone from her face as she waited to he
ar what he would say.

  “I’ll take it.” Owen offered his hand and she slipped hers into it, her palm soft against his and sending a warm thrill chasing up his arm.

  He shook her hand and then released her, leaned down and swiped his black satchel from the floor. Cait’s blue eyes followed his every move and widened slightly when he removed his tablet device from his bag and flipped the cover open. He set his bag down on his lap, and the tablet on top of it, and tapped the icon that would start up the database he had created.

  The basic program filled the bright screen and he tapped on the search function and selected cat shifters from the list of species. There were so many cat shifter species that he had given them their own category separate from other shifters.

  While it loaded all of the shifters he had documented, Owen flagged Sherry down. If he was going to deal with jumping straight into another job, one that might be beyond his skill level, he was going to need another drink.

  Sherry bounced along the length of the bar to him, her blonde ponytail swaying with each step.

  “Hellfire?” she said with a smile and he grimaced and shook his head.

  “Something a little less liable to kill me this time. Two vodkas, on ice. Make it the good stuff.”

  Sherry nodded and left to make his drinks. The screen on his tablet changed, snagging his attention. He swiped up the screen, scrolling through all the cat shifters he had documented, pausing only long enough to pay Sherry when she returned. She set the drinks down, took his money, and disappeared along the bar.

  Owen pushed one of the glasses across to Cait. Her eyes were glued to his tablet, the screen lighting her face as she leaned across, closer to him, her head at an angle.

  “These are all shifters you’ve met?” She ran her gaze over the pictures he had managed to snap of the shifters in secret from a safe distance and hooked her long dark hair behind her ears, pulling it away from her face. “It says two thousand three hundred and twelve results.”