Kitty Cat (Age of Night Book 1)

by May Sage

  Shifters were often guilty of letting their human counterpart do all the thinking, but if he ignored it, if he wondered about her actions as a wild cat, they made sense. She’d made a point very clear: don’t fuck with me, I can take one of your strongest.

  The more Rygan thought of it, the more he was convinced that it hadn’t been hostile. Not really. No pretty words could have achieved what that display did, so she’d just cut the shit. Otherwise, the dominant females in his pride might have confronted her; now, they were wary of her, happy to stay at a distance - which, Rygan assumed, was exactly what she wanted.

  “Ace will let us stay,” his Beta assured them. “But in exchange, the least we can do is make her some dinner. She goes to work early; if we pack some leftovers and leave it on the kitchen counter, she’ll be very pleased with us.”

  “I’ll make something nice then,” Ian replied, his expression determined.

  A lot of pride members cooked, Rygan included, but on special occasions, Ian took over; unfortunately, it didn’t happen often. Just because the man was amazing in the kitchen didn’t mean that he liked cooking.

  He made a chili that had everyone shamelessly demanding seconds, and most of the pack retired for the night after finishing their food.

  Rygan stayed up until the last member of his pack had gone to bed, still on edge. Things had changed too quickly for his liking; they hadn’t prepared their exit, barely taking a few hours to pack their belongings. And now they depended on her hospitality.

  If he was entirely sincere, she was his problem. He was wary, and with good reasons. Being loners went against the nature of most shifters; it wasn’t as bad for felines as it was for wolves, but they were still naturally inclined to live in prides. If she’d been cast out of hers, she’d done something really bad to deserve it. If she’d chosen to leave, it said a lot about her character - none of which was good. But at the same time, she was a friend of Daunte’s. That was a recommendation on its own - he didn’t think he knew one man half as loyal as the Beta. And while reason might say otherwise, his guts told Rygan he could trust Ace.

  His problem with her didn’t end there. The way he was drawn to her made him want to take more precautions, unsure he could trust his instincts on the matter. It was hard to tell whether he was listening to his little head or the one he should pay attention to. Perhaps he should get Coveney to run a search on her - although, without a last name, he wasn’t sure they’d find much. The fact that Daunte might be pissed also made him consider it carefully. Rygan and his Beta had never really clashed about anything; he didn’t want that to change. The commanding part of a pride ought to present a united front.

  If he just took the facts, the answer was clear. He needed to fuck the woman, and soon. Getting it out of the way would mean he could see things with more perspective once the deed was done.

  Right?

  A noise pulled him out of his reverie; lifting his head, he found the object of his conflicted thoughts in the kitchen, opening her fridge.

  Questions

  Rygan frowned, wondering how the hell she’d gone past him unnoticed.

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” the woman said without turning to him. “Not a lot of people can hear me coming.”

  That pissed him off; he wasn’t just anyone, and he would have heard her, if he’d paid attention. No one snuck past him. Ever.

  Although, come to think of it, it was the second time she had. He hadn’t heard her approach before she’d spoken, the previous day. Ouch. His pride took a dent at that realization.

  “Good evening,” he said.

  It hit him that these were the first words they’d ever exchanged.

  Fuck. He was fascinated with the woman and they had never even talked. For a minute, he wondered if she could be part siren, or if she just overused some seductive potion, but as he walked towards her, her scent became stronger at each step, and what he smelled was feline, natural, and feminine. She’d just come back from a run: he could detect her usual blend of wood and spices, as well as rain and sweat. A tantalizing mixture that made him want to lick her from head to toe.

  He hadn’t seen her for over forty eight hours and honestly, he’d thought that his memory might have overplayed her charms - and the effect she had on him.

  No such chance.

  “Ace, right?”

  “Daunte is one of only three people in the world who calls me Ace,” she replied. “It’s Aisling. At least, that doesn’t make me sound like a jock.”

  “Aisling is a mouthful, sweetheart,” he drawled. “What shall I call you?”

  She rolled her eyes at that.

  “Despite the admittedly noticeable southern accent, I’m not going to fall for any sort of line you could possibly come up with, so spare us both, Rygan. Call me Ace if you must. It shouldn’t matter much, as you’re going to stay out of my way.”

  He should, but he knew there was a pretty good chance he wouldn’t.

  “How do you know my name? I don’t believe I introduced myself.”

  Rye wasn’t particularly vain but he knew females liked what they saw. Ace was acting like he wasn’t even there. But she’d asked Daunte about him, obviously, and he wanted to hear her say it, admit that she’d been curious.

  “Rygan Wayland, six foot four, age thirty-one,” she recited. “Second son of our good King, and Alpha of the Wyvern pride.”

  Grabbing a pack of raspberries and some yogurt, she closed the fridge with her foot and walked to the breakfast table.

  “That puts me at a disadvantage. I know nothing about you.”

  Aisling tilted her head left and smirked. “That would be because only one of us happens to have a fan page.”

  He groaned, but conceded her point.

  “It’s not like I want one.” He generally didn’t find it necessary to justify anything about himself, but that damn fan page was the exception. “Coveney set up a pride website to help stay in touch with other shifters, and apparently, there was a lot of hits on my profile. He figured we might as well cash in on the traffic.”

  She had the decency to at least try to stifle her smile.

  “And the half-naked shoots?”

  “Our calendar made us half a million. And it’s not just me in it. Daunte does it, too. You’d do it, too, to feed a pride.”

  So, yeah, he sounded petulant as fuck.

  “It’s all for the greater good,” she replied, nodding, but still smirking.

  He didn’t mind all that much; sassing or not, god knew she had a beautiful smile.

  “Yogurt?”

  Normally, the answer should have been no, because he happened to have balls, but what she called yogurt was basically a spoon of the stuff, put on top of a humongous meringue, and covered in fresh berries, so he nodded, watching her closely as she moved. Listening, too; she was right. She didn’t make a noise; not when she stepped, anyway. The old cupboards betrayed her, but otherwise, the woman was incredibly quiet.

  “You’re a hunter.”

  It wasn’t a question, and she nodded.

  “I’ve been raised as one, yes. These days, I’m just a baker, though.”

  He sincerely doubted it.

  Rygan sat on the high bar stool next to hers and gratefully nodded when she gave him a plate of anything-but-yogurt. One mouthful, and he moaned, taking his untold words back. She was a baker, and a good one at that.

  “What the fuck is in this?” he asked, because it couldn’t be a damn meringue. At its center, there was a smooth mousse that tasted like heaven.

  “That would be pistachio. I’m experimenting for a client who wants some for her wedding cake.”

  “Experiment successful.”

  All of a sudden, he understood why Daunte had asked if they could order from her bakery; he genuinely didn’t think he’d eaten something that made him consider licking the plate in a long, long time. If there had been no witness, he totally would have, too.

  “I don’t know - I tried the mousse insid
e some choux yesterday - it worked a little better.”

  Fuck, he was hard. Thinking about food. Sweet food, too.

  “Do you have any choux left?”

  Aisling shook her head. “Nope. Ate two dozen of them, and my assistant finished the rest.”

  He scrutinized her, wondering where the fuck all the mousse, choux and other dessert she ate went. She had curves, but they were all in the right places; her wider hips, her generous ass. He was pretty sure no one able to inhale two dozen choux had the right to look like her. Their kind were generally slender, because of the exercise they all did in animal form, but still.

  “So, Aisling. You know my last name, my height, my profession, and age. You also know what I look like in nothing but a towel. I just know you like to make grown men cry - be it by withholding choux or kicking their ass. Wanna even out the scale?”

  “I don’t know, I like being on top.” His dick pushed against his zipper at the visual that conjured. “What do I get for telling you things about me?” she asked, her voice dipping low and suave, shooting right to his already hard cock, making it throb.

  She was flirting, probably unaware that he was already fighting to prevent himself from laying her on the table and licking the sweet spot between her legs until she begged for mercy.

  “What do you want?” he countered, his gaze intense.

  She should have looked away; or rather, females would have. He was quickly learning not to expect her to behave like anyone else, though.

  “You get a question, I get one. That’s fair.”

  He nodded slowly, reluctantly. There were plenty of things he didn’t like speaking about - namely, his family and that was what most people were really curious about.

  Aisling waved, inviting him to go first.

  “Last name.”

  He’d looked around, and there was letters addressed to five different names on her mahogany dining room table.

  Aisling shook her head. “Nope. I veto that one.”

  He immediately narrowed his eyes, wondering what reason she might have to hide it. Was she hiding from someone? Was she on the run?

  “That’s not how it works.”

  “It works how I say it works. Ask something else, or nothing at all. I don’t care.”

  Rygan was too startled to speak at first; he couldn’t remember anyone ever dismissing him that way before. It grated, but he accepted that the cards were in her hand, so he changed his question.

  “Why are you a loner?”

  He half expected her to blow him off again, but she answered. “I was part of a pride, once, and it didn’t work out for me. It’s supposed to be about supporting each other, but I’m a little different. So the flavor of the day was, let’s gang up on Aisling. Not my thing.”

  Rygan nodded slowly, reluctantly - he knew it wasn’t the whole truth.

  “So, you weren’t banished?”

  “That’s two questions,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I’ll answer it - because you won’t let this go unless I do. No, I wasn’t banished. No, I’m no criminal. Yes, I’ve killed people - legally.” That could mean a lot of things; in self-defense, or under contract approved by the government. One, he could understand, the other, he could respect. “And I will kill again,” she added, “if I’m ever in a situation where I should. And no, you don’t have the right to know everything I do. I’m not part of your pride, Alpha.”

  Taking the full strength of her gaze, Rygan wondered if that was what others felt when he glared at them. His tiger was pacing back and forth, uneasy at having that female pushing her dominance. She wasn’t asking for his submission, though - she was simply answering with everything she had, to ensure he would know she was telling him the truth. No one could dominate without conviction.

  He nodded. It wasn’t like his hands were clean, anyway.

  “My turn,” she said, her amber gaze still intense. She tilted her head to the left a little again, and asked, “If I let you fuck me now, are you going to be clingy or move on and let me be?”

  He didn’t answer - he didn’t need to. They both needed this. There was no other option; since the instant he saw her, he knew he was going to end up balls deep inside her.

  There was nothing soft or refined about it - his teeth scraped her skin, she tore clothes from his limbs to free his cock, and took it in her greedy hands. They were animals, nothing more or less. Rygan took Aisling by the waist and popped her on the breakfast table, before placing himself between her legs, exactly where he’d wanted to be. His tiger was all for destroying her jeans and plunging his cock inside her, but he had other things on his mind. Sliding the denim down, along with her silken panties, he smirked and dived head first towards her pink, drenched folds.

  “Oh fuck.”

  “Not yet.”

  She might have the upper hand in many things, but as she begged for mercy while his tongue lapped at her clit, wiggling in an attempt to break free, he was topping her in the only way that mattered.

  Her breathing was coming in faster yet irregular, hitching, in places. She was close; so close. He could make her come now and then take her like he was desperate to. Get it over with. But at the back of his mind, something told him it would be just that: over. She was going to do what she’d said she would: move on, forget about him. The pretty kitty was careful - she liked the walls she’d constructed around her little world; he understood that. But nevertheless, he wanted to smash them down.

  Rygan and his tiger were in perfect agreement right then. Not now, they both said. We can wait.

  So, he came up for air, placing his throbbing cock at her entrance, and bending to reach her ear.

  “What’s your name?” he whispered, grinding against her clit.

  He didn’t expect her to answer; he expected her to bolt.

  She did.

  “Bastard.”

  “You need to come, pretty girl. And I’ll give it to you - all I want in exchange is a name.”

  So, yeah, he was being an asshole. But a smart one. Aisling pushed his torso back and sat up, closing her legs.

  “Right. Looks like I’ll be finishing myself off, then,” she huffed, turning away without another glance.

  As he watched her sinful ass walk out, Rygan smiled like his balls weren’t hating him right now.

  He might not have fucked her, but he’d won the game today. Aisling was a dominant female used to having what she wanted; she was going to be as obsessed with him as he was with her.

  Animal

  Aisling was cursing herself, wondering where her damn spine had run off to.

  “Fucking Alpha,” she grumbled under her breath while frosting a dozen cupcakes.

  “Someone pissed you off?” Clarissa asked, entering the shop while counting dollar bills.

  The orders were paid online or over the phone, and Aisling transferred Clary’s salary by direct deposit, but her employee received plenty of tips with each delivery.

  “Multiple someones,” she replied, although it was perhaps a white lie.

  While having a pride around pushed her buttons, it was Rygan and his damn tongue that she wanted to eviscerate for denying her a damn orgasm.

  Okay, so she had been totally dumb to ask for it in the first place, but the man was downright cruel. She’d tried to get off at least five times after leaving him in the kitchen, without success. Her usually satisfying vibrator felt utterly inadequate compared to the smooth, thick, long cock he’d teased her with.

  She bared her teeth, and squeezed her icing bag so hard the cupcake was drowned three inches of blueberry frosting.

  “I’ll have this one, thank you,” Clary said, snatching the cake, and licking it with obvious glee. “So,” she asked in between mouthfuls, “has your mood got anything to do with the bunch of hunks we’ve seen in town? People say they’re shifters.”

  She grunted in response, but Clary wouldn’t let it go.

  “Do you know them?”

  “I know one of them,” she re
plied.

  Aisling wasn’t used to sharing; but somehow, one second she was looking in the baby blue eyes of her pretty assistant, and the next, she was spilling her guts. “This stays between us?”

  Clary beamed at her, and like they were twelve, rather than twenty-four and twenty-eight, she extended her hand and curved her little finger.

  “Pinky swear.”

  Ace stared at the finger like it might bite her.

  “I do not pinky swear.”

  “You will if you want me to keep my mouth shut.”

  She could have just pointed out that she was happy to keep her affairs to herself, but Ace just shook her head, before briefly entangling her finger with Clary, taking it back as quickly as she could.

  “This never happened,” she grumbled. Her reputation would take a hit if it ever got out. “Anyway, the Beta is my baby brother. The pride is getting targeted by wolves and he figured they could lie low here for a while.”

  Although she’d been put out when he’d first turned up, Aisling wasn’t exactly pissed at Daunte, or surprised for that matter. She and her cat felt that it was perfectly natural that, in a time of danger, he’d turned to her. She wouldn’t want it otherwise anyway.

  “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

  Ace shrugged. She never talked about Daunte - or the rest of her family.

  It wasn’t like she had any reason to want to hide them, directly - the issue was that everyone knew about Daunte’s older sibling.

  Tales about her were still a popular after dinner conversation in most prides. She felt no shame about any of the facts they knew about her; but being the subject of so much talk just pissed her off.

  Still, Aisling was annoyed, and not only for the reasons she’d given her brother when he’d cornered her a couple of days back. Daunte had come with a complication that was unexpected and unappreciated. A delectable six foot four complication that made her cat bat her lashes like the slutty pussy she was.

  She growled, and the currently cranky animal inside her snapped at her.