A Cat's Tale

A Cat’s Tale

by

Melissa Snark

A
Cat’s Tale

Somewhere
between Virginia and California

It
happened in a nowhere town at a shithole bar off the main highway somewhere
between Virginia and Los Angeles. Jared Kohl pulled off to get a drink and a
burger. Okay, more than one drink, and a pile of burgers. But a werewolf had to
eat and it took more than just one shot to get him buzzed. Whatever the case,
he never did get to order.

The
bar was dim and cheap with its 60s themed movie and rock posters, and a jukebox
pumping out Jimi Hendrix and The Stones. Jared took a seat at a corner table
where he could stretch out his long legs and appreciate the classic image of
Marilyn Monroe and her billowing white dress.

As
a stranger to this community, he was bound to attract attention. Jared measured
a neat six-four and two hundred twenty pounds of pure sinewy muscle. His dark
brown hair had gotten too long, so stubborn curls tumbled across his forehead.
His neat mustache and beard covered only his chin, framing his mouth. He was
handsome and knew it. He had his father’s good looks—broad forehead, strong
nose, generous mouth, and square jaw. From his mother, he’d inherited startling
topaz eyes. A cleft divided his chin.

As
distracting as all the eyes upon him were, Jared got hard the second he scented
her—rich and musky and designed for fucking. His posture remained relaxed as
she walked up behind him. He did not glance up until she ran a hand over his
shoulder. Her fingernails were painted fire-engine red and sharpened to points.
The light scratches she left on his skin healed thanks to his regenerative
ability.

“So
a werewolf and a werecat walk into a bar…” Her voice was low and husky, pitched
to create a seductive resonance within a man’s crotch. Beneath the pheromones,
he smelled sadness and anxiety, which intrigued him more than the blatant come
on. She seemed more complex than she wanted to let on.

Jared
looked up from his drink to get hung up on a pair of pretty knees clad in white
stockings and red lace garters encircling slender thighs. Her plaid skirt was
the right length of short, stopping just shy of crotch level, low enough to
tease him. She wore a prim white button-up shirt with a collar and rolled
sleeves. Her skin was Asian mocha, and her hair was black and worn in pigtails
secured with red ribbons. Her almond-shaped eyes were bright blue with slit
pupils. The ornate gold collar around her neck seemed incongruous with the
outfit. She was working the Japanese schoolgirl angle hard, but he judged her
to be in her early twenties. Sometimes, with shapechangers, it was hard to
tell.

“Let’s
cut to the chase,” Jared said. “Does the wolf eat the pussycat?” He smiled,
showing a hint of fang. It had been a while since he’d eaten and he was hungry
enough to consider her the entrée. Jared met those cobalt eyes but did not
worry about dominance. He was smart enough not to get into a staring contest
with a cat.

“Does
the wolf want to eat the pussycat?” She trailed a suggestive hand down his
chest and then sat on his lap. Unless he was mistaken, she wasn’t against the
idea of being splayed and licked. Hell, she might go for biting if her kink was
pain.

“It’s
been a while since I last ate,” he said. She wasn’t what he expected of a
werecat. But then he’d never met one until
she
walked up and sat in his
lap, so he was free of preconceived notions.

“You’re
new to town,” she said. “Are you here with your pack?” Oh man, she was leading
him without any subtlety. He smelled the trap big time.

“I’m
on my way to LA,” he said. “Sorry, but I’m afraid it’s just me.” He watched her
reaction, trying to figure her angle. She had fire and spirit, and the air of a
creature abused.

Her
smile widened. “So, you’re a lone wolf?”

“Not
exactly,” Jared responded with caution. He shrugged. “It’s more a matter of
circumstance than choice. It’s complicated.”

“I
like complicated men.” On his lap, she shifted, rubbing her buttocks against
his swollen cock and working the denim for friction.

Jared
sucked in air between his teeth. Oh yeah, a baited but obvious trap. “What’s
your breed?”

Anger
flared in her cobalt eyes. She withdrew several inches away from him. He held
up a staying hand. “I only meant—” Fuck, what had he meant? “Are you Persian?
Burmese? You smell like a purebred.”

“You
know cats?” She seemed thrown. Mistrust glittered in her pretty eyes, causing
her mask of sophistication to slip. “I’m Siamese.”

He
grinned. “My mom had a Siamese. He was a crazy cat.”

“What
happened to him?” she asked in a way that could only be described as catty. “Was
he eaten by a werewolf?”

“Sol
passed away at the ripe old age of twenty-one,” Jared said. At twenty-six, he
had grown up with the cat and loved it a great deal.

Restless,
the werecat shifted. He smelled her fear—fear of him. His protective instincts
rushed to the fore. He opened his mouth to ask why when she twisted on his lap
to straddle him. With a glance, he got a good look at her crotch as the skirt
bunched up high across her thighs. She had no panties on and a manicured
pussy—Brazilian waxed.

“Want
to fuck me?”

Jared
swallowed hard. She hadn’t bothered to ask his name. No doubt, it was a trap.
Jared nodded and followed her out of the bar anyway. He wanted to fuck her that
bad.

****

“Sweet
ride,” the cat said, rubbing her painted fingertips across the leather seats of
Jared’s classic, American muscle car.

“Thanks,
she’s got a V8 6.6 liter 360 horsepower and Rally II wheels. I rebuilt her
transmission myself,” Jared said with a wolfish grin. He reckoned that the
amused glimmer in the cat’s bright eyes was at his expense but he could have
cared less. He loved his baby.

“Show
me how fast she goes,” the cat said. Her hand caressed the gear shift, and then
slid to his denim-clad thigh.

“Oh
yeah.” Jared swallowed so his Adam’s apple bobbed, and stepped harder on the
gas. He felt ready to explode. It was a fucking miracle he hadn’t wrapped the
car around a tree.

As
it happened, the werecat lived in a mansion outside of town. Jared parked in
the gravel driveway beneath a willow tree. He followed her inside, cautious but
confident in his ability to handle any trouble the cat might throw at him.

“Nice
place,” Jared said, glancing around at the antique packed main room. “Does it
belong to your grandmother?”

The
cat shot Jared a glance over her shoulder. “My aunt,” she said. Her scent and
body language underwent a subtle alteration.

Jared
gave her a sharp look. He smelled the lie. “Really?”

“Great
aunt.” She poured him a drink of dark amber liquid in a brandy snifter. She
hadn’t asked if he wanted one; she prepared it.

“Did
your aunt give you the fancy collar?” Jared envisioned a strand of blue
sapphires about her slender throat instead of the gold necklace.

“It
was a gift from an admirer,” the cat said.

“No
offense, but your admirer has gaudy taste.” Jared allowed his glance to shift
from the collar to their surroundings and the bright floral wallpaper. In his
mind, the existence of a great aunt remained very much in question.

“That’s
true,” she laughed with forced humor. She placed the drink in his hand, and
then ran her hands over his body, seeking to distract him. It worked.

“What’s
your name?” Jared asked. He slammed the drink back before glancing around the
room. Unlike her, he kept his hands to himself. The scent of fear remained
prominent about her. She aroused his protective instincts and compelled a sense
of caution. If curiosity killed the cat, Jared would be the next victim.

“Does
it matter?” she asked, cocking her head.

His
brow rose. “Hell yeah, it matters.” Jared sniffed and then sneezed. The room
was stuffy and dusty, and a blanket of incense obscured everything else. It
reminded him of a funeral home or a Catholic church.

“Is
that frankincense?” He sniffed again and identified an underlying odor.
Something…dead. Jared worked to identify the source of the offensive scent but was
distracted as his vision blurred and his thoughts clouded. He dropped the
brandy snifter and it shattered on the hardwood floor.

“You
drugged me? Why?”

Jared
stared at her, surprised in spite of everything. He staggered, fighting to keep
his balance as the potent drug sapped his strength.

She
stared at him with great blazing blue eyes and bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry,”
she said. “I had no choice.”

Jared
opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. He blacked out before he hit
the floor.