Snow Cat

by Edward Kendrick

  When he finished eating, he stretched, locked the cabin door, and shifted, his clothes vanishing in the process.

  * * * *

  The white cat ran silently through the forest, heading up to the cave. Occasionally he paused, climbing a tree to survey the surroundings, seeing and sensing nothing out of the ordinary.

  A quarter mile from the cave the cat stopped again, intently sniffing the air. The faint aroma of another jaguar came to him. His foe. Far away still, but ahead of him.

  Foot by cautious foot, the cat continued up the slope, leaping to a narrow ledge then a second one as he neared the entrance to the cave. The jaguar’s scent became stronger with each move. Still the white cat saw nothing, only the scent of his foe indicating he was nearby.

  Making the final leap to the ledge in front of the cave, the cat landed softly, his fur bristling when he realized where his foe was. The scent of the jaguar was overpowering, wafting from the cave. If the cat entered, he would put himself in a position where his foe could attack before he could defend himself. He’d known it was a possibility his foe would try to use the cave to his advantage.

  The cat shifted.

  “Deacon,” Wynn called out, his voice full of contempt. “Are you afraid to face me on equal footing? Are you such a coward you need to ambush me in order to win? Your brother at least had the guts to come after me in the open where I could fight back. You, on the other hand, are obviously a coward, playing your little games like a childish bully trying to torment someone on the playground because he thinks he’ll gain the upper hand that way.”

  Wynn heard a slight movement to his left, spun to see what had caused it, and knew he’d fallen into a trap of his own making. Deacon stood on the next ledge with a rifle pointed at Wynn.

  “That was your plan wasn’t it?” Deacon sneered. “Draw me into the cave then kill me. But I was too clever for you. I marked the cave with my jaguar scent, strongly enough to overcome my human one when you got close. And then I waited.” He laughed. “Waited—and now I’ll have my revenge for what you did to Lionel.”

  “Lionel deserved what I did to him. He was a bastard with no morals and yet I know he would loathe what you’re doing now. Unlike you, he wasn’t a coward; he was man enough, or jaguar enough, to face me on equal footing.” Wynn knew that wasn’t totally the truth. He prayed Deacon didn’t.

  “I am not a coward!”

  “The hell you aren’t. Standing there, armed to the teeth instead of coming for me the way a real shifter would,” Wynn shouted in derision just as Deacon pulled the trigger. If not for his superior reflexes, Wynn would have been dead. As it was, the bullet grazed his arm. Foolishly he glanced at the wound. A second shot barely missed him. “A coward and a lousy shot,” he said, sneering.

  “I’m not a coward.” Deacon’s voice echoed off the mountain side.

  “Then prove it.”

  Wynn shifted, hoping against hope he wasn’t signing his death warrant.

  The cat watched for Deacon’s next move, every muscle taut in anticipation. He roared in elation when a jaguar stood on the other ledge, the rifle falling when Deacon shifted, bouncing off the ledge into the forest below.

  The jaguar sprang, landing on the cave ledge just inches from the white cat, and the battle began. Lips drew back to reveal vicious fangs, claws extended, raking flesh, tearing deep gashes through fur. The jaguar had the upper hand for a moment, biting deeply into the white cat’s shoulder. The white cat screamed in pain and rage, shaking the jaguar loose. The jaguar stumbled away, two feet missing the edge of the ledge. It fell, scrabbling for a hold in the rocks below. The white cat leapt, its sharp claws tearing into the jaguar’s back as it snarled angrily.

  The battle continued, blood and fur blanketing the ground beneath the trees. The combatants began to weaken but neither one was willing to cede. Surrender would mean certain death.

  Then the white cat saw the opening he needed, as he backed away from the jaguar’s last attack, blood flowing from a deep wound. The jaguar had raised its head to let out a roar of triumph. The white cat gathered the last of his strength, leapt, and buried his fangs in the jaguar’s throat, twisting and tearing at flesh and muscle, biting deeply into the veins. The jaguar fell when the cat released it, life draining from its body, its eyes glazing over as it died.

  The white cat dropped to the ground, unable to move as weakness and exhaustion took hold. He closed his eyes, sinking into a deep sleep.

  * * * *

  “Hell no!”

  The white cat opened his eyes at the sound of the panicked, fear-filled shout. Seconds later Mick was kneeling beside him, trying to lift his heavy body into his arms. The cat summoned enough strength to shift.

  “I’m alive…” Wynn managed to get out before pain from his still-healing wounds wracked his body.

  “Barely. Which is more than I can say for Deacon, thank God,” Mick growled, apparently unfazed at seeing Wynn shift. “I’m getting you to the clinic…” He paused as he assessed the amount of damage Wynn has sustained. “Or calling for the ambulance.”

  “No,” Wynn whispered. “Just…get me to…the studio.”

  “Wynn…”

  “I’ll heal on my own,” Wynn told him. “I just need…to shift and…” He managed a tiny smile. “I’d rather heal in private…not lying here where…well, you know.”

  “Yeah, I get that. I don’t agree. I mean about not going to the clinic, but I get why. Hold on.” Mick held Wynn as carefully as possible and stood. “Put your arms around my neck,” he ordered, which Wynn did so Mick could carry him back to the cabin.

  “When the hell did you get so damned heavy,” Mick grumbled, easing Wynn down onto the porch. “And I don’t suppose you happened to leave the keys somewhere accessible did you?”

  “In my pants pocket.”

  Mick was about to point out Wynn wasn’t wearing any when he realized his lover suddenly was. “Nice trick, but then you told me you could do that,” he commented as he dug out the keys then unlocked the door. When Wynn gave him the code, Mick opened the door and disarmed the alarm box. When he turned back to help Wynn inside, he found the white cat staggering to his feet. The cat barely made it inside before collapsing on the floor.

  “You’re a pretty handsome jaguar,” Mick said, sitting down beside the cat. “Though all and all, I much prefer the man.” The white cat rumbled softly and Mick smiled. “I’ll take that as a laugh of sorts. Now rest. And just so you know, I’m not going anywhere till you wake up.”

  Mick kept his promise, only leaving the studio long enough to call in to tell the dispatcher to notify his people he’d been unavoidably delayed and would see them when he saw them. He fended off her questions as to why, hung up, and returned to his vigil.

  Chapter 22

  “You’re a hell of a watchman,” Wynn whispered, his breath tickling Mick’s ear.

  Mick sat up quickly, instantly awake. He searched for trouble even as his body responded to Wynn’s closeness—Wynn’s very naked closeness. “Damn, you scared me out of ten year’s growth,” he grumbled, pulling Wynn into a tight embrace. Seconds later he released him, moving away enough to look his lover over with a practiced eye for any visible wounds. “You heal up well,” he said, once he was certain Wynn had.

  “Comes with the territory.” Cupping one hand behind Mick’s head, Wynn kissed him quite thoroughly while using his other hand to unbutton Mick’s shirt.

  Soon enough Mick was as naked and as aroused as Wynn. His only complaint was that they had no lube. Wynn grinned, jumped to his feet and returned moments later, handing Mick a bottle.

  “What the hell is barrier cream?” Mick wanted to know after reading the label.

  “A fancy name for a hand cream that makes it easier to get the paints off my fingers when I’ve finished for the day. Not that I’m sloppy, of course, but—”

  “As long as it’s safe. Aw, the hell with safe, right now I just need to know will it work.”

  “On
ly one way to find out.”

  Which they did, twice, before morning arrived. Between bouts of what Mick deemed some of the most incredible sex he’d ever had, they had a long talk about what had happened.

  It began when Wynn asked “Why were you here?”

  Mick almost replied, ‘Metaphysically or otherwise?’ but thought better of it. Wynn’s question required an honest answer, not a joke. “When I didn’t hear from you after you checked in this morning, I began to get worried. I know we hadn’t made plans for you to call in every hour on the hour or anything but still it bothered me. I called around 12:30 and it went to voicemail. The same at one and 1:15.”

  “I could hardly take my phone with me when I was in cat form,” Wynn pointed out. “And for the brief time that I did shift back, calling you was not on the top of my mind. Surviving was.”

  “I know. Of course it took me that long to figure it out but by then I was in panic mode, so to speak. I figured the only way I was going to be worth anything for the rest of the day was to come up here and, well, hell, I don’t know. Find you, maybe?” Mick leaned back on his hands, looking seriously at Wynn. “You do stand out at this time of year. I figured I’d see you on the ledge by the cave, presuming that’s where you were.”

  “I was, for all of ten minutes maybe while I tried to convince Deacon he’d be a coward if he shot me instead of taking me on the way Lionel had, jaguar to jaguar.”

  Mick shook his head. “You always did have a way with words.”

  “I have my moments. Anyway he finally shifted; we both did.” Wynn’s mouth tightened as he obviously remembered what followed. “You saw the result.”

  “Yeah. What I thought were two dead jaguars, one of whom I happen to love.”

  “There’s the ‘L’ word again,” Wynn said with a smile.

  “And? Do you object to it?”

  “No,” Wynn whispered softly, “not in the least, because I love you too. More than I thought it was possible to love anyone.”

  “Show me,” Mick said as he wrapped his arms around Wynn, thus starting round two of their making love to each other.

  * * * *

  “Where have you two been?” Carly asked when Mick and Wynn arrived at the diner late that morning. “And why do you look like cats who found the cream?”

  “Off saving the world for democracy,” Mick replied with a straight face, swatting Wynn when he burst out laughing. “You’re supposed to be backing me up,” he muttered.

  “I can’t help it…” Wynn said, practically falling into a booth he was laughing so hard. “It was the cats and cream thing that got to me.”

  Carly just looked at them, shaking her head. “Hit up the local pot dealer on your way in, did you?”

  Wynn chortled. “Catnip dealer actually, to go with the cream.”

  “Don’t mind him,” Mick groused, as he slid across the table from Wynn. “He didn’t get much sleep last night and it always goes to his head when that happens.”

  “And whose fault was that?” Wynn asked, finally calming down. “And I refuse to dignify the last part of your statement by making any response.”

  With an exaggerated eye roll, Carly told them she’d be back with coffee, which in her considered opinion they desperately needed.

  “You’re stone cold crazy this morning,” Mick said when Carly was well out of earshot.

  “Relief, Mick, relief. Things can finally get back to normal again. We can plan for stuff like, oh I don’t know, Thanksgiving, Christmas, what you want for the mural. You know, everyday things.”

  Mick shook his head. “First off, Thanksgiving’s two months away and secondly, do you really want to use your spare time working on a mural? You spend all day being creative. We can just paint over the mess and call it a done deal.”

  “If that’s what you want.” Wynn tried to keep the hurt out of his voice.

  Apparently he didn’t succeed because Mick reached across the table to take his hand. “What I want is what makes you happy and if it’s doing a mural then have at it. But—” he grinned, “—God, no pornography.”

  “Damn, and here I had an idea involving the two of us naked as jaybirds in the throes of passion.”

  Laughing, Mick said, “I prefer doing to seeing.” Realizing he was still holding Wynn’s hand, he gave it a squeeze and let go. “Honestly though, do you even have an idea of what you want to paint?”

  Wynn nodded. “I do, but it’ll mean we keep using the spare bedroom for a few more days. I want it to be a surprise.”

  “Umm, hate to point it out but all my clothes are in our bedroom.”

  “We’ll move them for the time being.”

  “Always with the ready answer. Okay, have at it.”

  “Great. I’ll bring down what I need from the studio and start tonight.”

  * * * *

  “Damn, why don’t you just blindfold me,” Mick grumbled.

  “That comes later, when we’re in bed.”

  Mick looked at Wynn in shock. “You have to be kidding.”

  “Yeah I am. I’m not into that kind of kink. Now close your eyes.”

  Mick did as ordered before Wynn took his hand to lead him into the bedroom.

  “You can look now,” Wynn said, anticipation and worry coloring his words.

  “Holy hell,” Mick whispered.

  The mural, which took up the whole wall behind the bed, depicted the town with the mountains rising in majestic splendor behind it. In the forefront on one side there were trees. On the limb of one of them sprawled a beautiful white jaguar. It looked across the mural at the figure of a man clothed in silver armor, seated on a white horse. The face under the lifted visor of the helmet was Mick’s.

  “I…” Mick swallowed hard. “That’s fantastic, but I’m hardly a white knight.” He chuckled softly. “You should have put me in my uniform. That would have been more fitting.”

  “In my eyes,” Wynn said, wrapping his arms around Mick from behind, “you are the white knight who saved me with your love, accepting what I am, not running from it but, well, caring for all of me.”

  Mick turned to look at him. “Loving all of you, the man and the snow cat. Isn’t that what love is, accepting every part of a person no matter what?”

  “It is, or so they say.”

  “You don’t sound as if you believe it.”

  “I’m getting used to the idea,” Wynn replied somewhat pensively.

  “Wynn, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just…I’m still finding it hard to believe. A year ago I was alone and now I have you, and friends, and a life I love.”

  Mick kissed him gently. “I could say the same. Oh, I had friends, sure, and I’ve always liked my job, but still I felt there was something missing. I even knew what it was. I just didn’t know how to find it until I met you.” He smiled, tracing the line of Wynn’s jaw with one finger. “I didn’t know it at first, not until you disappeared.”

  “Me either. Funny it took being apart to make us realize what we wanted.” Wynn chuckled. “Of course you got a bit more than you bargained for.”

  “Do you hear me complaining?”

  “Not recently. There was a time though…”

  Wynn didn’t get to finish since his mouth was suddenly involved with more important things, like returning Mick’s kiss. Mick did pause for a moment to declare, “I love you,” before diving in again as he urged Wynn toward the bed.

  Wynn fell back onto it, smiling up at Mick. “And I love you, so I guess we’re even.” That ended the conversation for quite a while, although not the rest of what both of them had in mind.

  When they were well sated, Mick rested his head on Wynn’s shoulder, looking at the mural again. “So we live happily ever after?” he asked with a smile.

  “No, because no one really does,” Wynn replied, smiling back. “But we’ll live contentedly ever after, dealing with the ups and downs as they happen. And who can ask for more than that?’

  Mick kissed him so
ftly, murmuring, “Not I.”

  “Me neither,” Wynn agreed with a blissful sigh. “Me neither.”

  THE END

  ABOUT EDWARD KENDRICK

  Born and bred in Cleveland, I earned a degree in technical theater, later switched to costuming, and headed to NYC. Finally seeing the futility of trying to become rich and famous in the Big Apple, I joined VISTA—Volunteers in Service to America—ending up in Chicago for three years. Then it was on to Denver where I put down roots and worked as a costume designer until I retired in 2007.

  I began writing a few years ago after joining an online fanfic group. Two friends and I then started a group for writers, where they could post any story they wished no matter the genre or content. Since then, for the last five years, I’ve been writing for publication—my first book came out in February of 2011. Most, but not all, of my work is M/M, either mildly erotic or purely ‘romantic.’ More often than not it involves a mystery or action/adventure, and is sometimes paranormal to boot.

  For more information, visit edwardkendrick.blogspot.com.

  ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

  JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!