“Ah. Good news?” Bran stayed standing, moving closer to the couch and Jazz.
“Depends on your definition.” I watched as he reached out and began to stroke Jazz’s soft fur. Ever the traitor, she rolled over and let out a wide yawn, exposing her tummy for even more attention. “Tony’s in rehab, or what passes for rehab up on the Farm. Cops aren’t any the wiser and have closed the case, blaming crack-heads or whatever works. Mike’s coping, so are the kids.”
“And you?” Leaving the cat, Bran moved closer to the desk, standing opposite me at the desk. “How are you doing?”
“I’m...coping.” I couldn’t lie to him. “Jess told me I could come back to the Farm if I wanted.” Looking down, I pushed the thick envelope with my index finger. “Don’t think I’m going to take her up on the offer. Been out here in the world too long. Besides, I’m not sure if the rest of the Felis will be as forgiving as she is. Right now they’re trying to deal with the concept that we can breed with humans and the possibility of other lost kits out there. It’s a lot for them to deal with.”
“And you?” Bran moved around to the right side of the desk, coming closer. “How are you coping now that you can...” A puzzled look came over his face as he waved his right hand as if he were brushing away flies. “You know.”
He was right in my personal space again, his scent sweeping over me. “I don’t think I’ll do it anytime soon.” Lifting my hands, I showed him the fresh skin. “Besides, it’s too much trouble. No offence to my kin, but I’ve learnt how to live without it.”
“Oh.” Bran moved even closer to me, his eyes meeting mine. “I mean, I was sort of hoping to see what it’s like at night.” One hand flopped between us. “That is, when it’s cold. And I need to stay warm.” A sigh escaped his lips. “Am I making any sense here?”
“You’re okay with this?” I breathed in deeply, wallowing in his musky smell. “I thought...when you left...” Now it was my turn to flop around like a fish out of water.
Bran reached down, pushing the envelope across the desk. “Honestly, I was scared.” A sheepish look crossed his features. “I guess it’s a sort of fight or flight thing. I just wasn’t ready to see you...you know, like that.”
“Understandable.”
He moved his hand along the wooden desktop.
“There’s a reason why Felis stay with Felis.”
His hand landed atop mine, squeezing it lightly. “I’m sorry. And I can’t say that I won’t be a bit surprised and off-kilter at times when you do things in your own...special way.” Dark, deep eyes met mine. “But I can say that I’m willing to give this a try if you’ll let a mere human share your bed.”
Leaning in, I captured his lower lip with my teeth, nipping lightly, not enough to draw blood. “Yes. And yes.”
Bran drew back. “To what?”
“To everything.” I got up from behind the desk, walking around to face him. Wrapping my hands around his waist, I glanced toward the couch and Jazz, still on her back and watching us intently. “If you lock the door I’ll move the cat.”
He smiled broadly. “Deal. Just don’t scratch me up too much. I’ve got an image to maintain.”
I frowned. “What?”
Now it was his turn to smirk. “Got me a real freelance assignment. With the National Post.” Bran nodded to my shocked expression. “Time for us all to start something new, eh?”
I grinned as I pulled him in again for another long kiss, releasing him in time to let out a growl, loud enough to scare Jazz off of the couch. “You can always teach an old cat new tricks.”
About Sheryl Nantus
http://www.lyricalpress.com/sheryl_nantus
Sheryl Nantus was born in Montreal, Canada and grew up in Toronto, Canada. A rabid reader almost from birth, she attended Sheridan College in Oakville, graduating in 1984 with a diploma in Media Arts Writing.
During her fifteen years of working in private security, she was stationed at the United States Consulate in Toronto as well as many hospitals in the Greater Toronto Area. Needless to say, she saw a lot of interesting things and people from which she draws her characters and situations in her speculative fiction writing.
Sheryl Nantus loves cats, kittens, and everything with fur. She has never been without a cat in her household for less than six months and always goes to a shelter to get her newest friend.
Her husband enjoys sharing their bed with cats, especially the ones who climb on his chest and drool into his beard first thing in the morning. Jazz, I’m looking at YOU!
A firm believer in the healing properties of peppermint and chai tea, she continues to write short stories, poetry and novels while searching for the perfect cuppa and how to drink it with a cat on your lap.
Sheryl’s Website:
http://www.sherylnantus.com
Reader eMail:
[email protected]
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What God and Cats Know Page 26
