Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V (15 page)

“You didn’t invite me to…to yer party, you
ungrateful bastard.” Any resemblance he had to this man faded under
the ugly mask of anger. “Where’s the booze?”

“I don’t have any, remember?” he pulled the
man toward the kitchen in a strong grip. “Nathan did you call that
taxi?”

“Yep. Ten minutes.”

“Ish too a party.” Matthew’s father tried to
pull away. His red-rimmed eyes roamed the group and finally settled
on Ramses the cat, sitting on the end of the couch. “Damn cat.
Always watching. Judging. Like yer bitch mother.” Matthew held up a
hand at Brandon’s warning growl. “I keep telling you to get a manly
pet. Not a pussy-cat.”

“He’s a drunk. Let it go. If I can deal with
it for this long, you can for a few minutes. ” Matthew’s spoke to
Brandon. After a moment of hesitation, the wolven nodded. He too
looked like he’d gladly kill Matthew’s father. With a tug, he
pulled the man to the kitchen. “Come on, Dad. The taxi will take
you home to your own bar.”

“What’d you do to yerself?” The note of
paternal concern almost made up for his earlier scene. “I don’t
remember you so beefed up. You beef up; you shouldn’t be such a
wimp. Yer gay aren’t you? Damn but that’s a shame. You should be
tappin’ that bitch in there.”

The iron wrought chair skidded a bit as
Matthew dumped his father into it. “Shut up, Dad.” The words were
quiet and tired. “I’m not gay, but it shouldn’t matter if I was.
Just shut up before I let my guests eat you.”

Naomi drifted into the room, followed by
Nathan and Brandon. Everyone else seemed speculative over Matthew’s
last remark, but wisely stayed behind. “We wouldn’t eat him,” she
tried giving Matthew an understanding smile. When that failed, she
opened the cabinet and took out a mug, filling it with coffee from
the pot she’d made earlier for the wolves. Taking a guess, she
loaded it down with sugar. “Eating two-legged and sentient beings
is generally considered taboo, if not tacky.” She set the cup down
in front of the inebriated man. “Go ahead, Mr. Ridley. The coffee
is very good.”

“My son makes sissy coffee.” The red eyes
fastened on Naomi’s chest. While not greatly endowed, she was
braless and it showed.

“I made it.” She resisted the urge to cover
her chest.

“
Oh.
” He picked up the cup and
slurped, setting the cup down with a shaking hand. “Needs
whiskey.”

Her mother always said that the best way to
combat rudeness was with grace. Going back to the coffee pot, she
poured a cup, handing it to Matthew as if she did such a thing
every day. She fixed her eyes on his father, looking for a weakness
other than the obvious. And if grace didn’t work, crush the throat
and rip out the heart. “You have to start with good coffee beans.
And Matthew has exceptional taste in beans.”

“I don’t know beans.” That much was
obvious.

“What a shame,” she murmured as she picked
her cup from where she’d left it on the table earlier. Plastering
the fake smile across her face again, she leaned forward across the
glass tabletop. “Tell me, Mr. Ridley. What is it that you do?”

The man looked up from another sip of coffee
and blinked. “Do?”

“Yes. For a living?”

Surprisingly, he laughed. A tittering giggle
that made him slide sideways. The man really was sloshed. Matthew
sighed and appropriated his father’s coffee cup before it met its
demise against the tile floor. “Dad doesn’t do anything. He sued
the company he used to work for a minor work related injury. Then
he turned around and sued his doctor for malpractice.” Someone in
the front called out that the taxi had arrived, saving him from
anymore explanations. With a look that thanked the powers-that-be,
Matthew hauled his father out of the chair. “Time to go, Dad.”

Naomi followed as he half dragged and half
carried the man through the house and out the front door in a
well-practiced move. At the taxi, she watched in fascinated pity as
he propped him against the car and reached into his father’s back
pocket, coming back with his wallet, and extracted a couple of
bills. He opened the back door and maneuvered the man inside, then
slid the wallet into one of his front pockets. After shutting the
door, he waited for the driver to roll down the passenger
window.

First he gave the address, then he handed
the driver the money. By the look on the driver’s face, it was more
than enough. Matthew waved away the offer of change. “Hopefully,
this should cover fare and all the grief he’s going to give you.
The doorman will help with the unload.”

The taxi driver pulled away under Matthew’s
watchful eye. Naomi took the opportunity to study him better. In
nothing but sweatpants that rode the tops of his ankles, the man
was divine. He had broad muscular shoulders, without being over
muscled. A cut from a silver blade ran over his shoulder blade and
shoulder. A leftover from last night’s escape. As her eyes
inventoried what was revealed by the soft, conforming, sweat pants,
he turned around. Caught mid-ogle, she felt herself turning red.
She hadn’t wanted him to know that she found him…
what?
Interesting? Attractive?

Amusement tugged at lips that looked more
used to being pressed into a line than a smile and small lines
fanned from the corners of his eyes. Had she thought him ordinary?
Her heart stepped up a notch. No, he was ruggedly handsome. His
hand was hot on her elbow as he touched her, making her jump.
“Let’s go inside. We have a lot to talk about and very little time
to make decisions.” Decisions? Her earlier interest fled. She
didn’t want to be mated on the basis of symbols and a religion that
hadn’t done anyone much good since before the birth of Christ.

I can speed that up. Tuna.

Matthew stopped his ground-eating stride,
which she was having trouble keeping up with, and looked down.
“Tuna what?” The humor he’d looked at her before disappeared. His
mouth thinned and she could see a small muscle tick in his temple.
Strangely, his scent didn’t match his facial tells. He didn’t smell
angry or curious at all, but his hand did tighten on her elbow.

Tuna for dinner.
Demanded Ramses. The
cat’s gold eyes fixed on Matthew without blinking. Only the twitch
of the cat’s tail showed his absolute delight in tormenting his
‘owner’.
The kind of tuna that comes in a can. With lots of
gravy.

“Coffee,” Matthew said as he jerked his
attention from the cat. He practically shoved her ahead of him and
almost locked the cat out as he shut the door behind him. Nathan
opened his mouth, only to have Matthew put up a single finger as he
walked by. “Coffee. Then breakfast.” Naomi pulled on her arm,
unnerved by the strangeness of his attitude. He let go, seeing her
for the first time since Ramses demanded his tuna. He looked at the
clock. “Okay. Coffee, then lunch.”

Tuna!
Tuna, tuna, tuna! Tuna, tuna, tuna!
Ramses followed
him into the kitchen belting out his song loud enough to make the
rest of the Werecats wince.
Tuna, tuna, tuna!
Scrambling up
onto the counter he waited impatiently while Matthew opened the
cabinet and pulled out a paper plate and a can of cat food. Without
a word, Matthew pulled the tab and removed the top. He upended the
can and shook out the fish and gravy that had the cat dancing on
the countertop.
Hey! I get to lick the lid! Don’t throw that
away!
He protested Matthew opening the lower cabinet door, and
the trash can underneath.
I always get the lid!

Matthew paused mid-toss and eyed the cat
without saying word. Ramses head butted his arm, purred and did a
little air-kneading with his front paws.
I want to lick the
lid.
The demand was much softer as he head butted Matthew
again. With a sigh, he relented and held the lid out for the cat to
clean.

“Watch the edges. They’re sharp,” he warned,
watching carefully while the little pink sandpaper tongue licked
every bit of gravy goodness from the lid. Setting the paper plate
on a bare end of the counter, away from the stove and other kitchen
appliances, he left Ramses to the rest of his meal.

He ordered twenty pizzas before sitting down
with a fresh cup of coffee. Naomi hesitated, unsure as to what to
make of his mood, then simply sat beside him. “That was nice.”
Becoming the sudden focus of his attention made her heart step up
again. She nodded at Ramses, blissed out and face down in a plate
of tuna chunks and gravy. “The lid. And well…the taxi.” She ducked
her head, knowing she’d way overstepped.

Matthew took another drink of coffee, with
the same madding single-mindedness he’d had since he came out to
find his father surrounded by aggravated wolven and werecats. “He’s
not going to shut-up, is he?” Naomi opened her mouth, then shut it
as she glanced back at the cat. Matthew shook his head and rubbed
at his forehead. “No. I mean, it will never be normal again.”

Naomi smiled at the lost look that was
peeking out from his eyes and in the slump of his shoulders. She
wanted to steel herself against liking him, found out that it was
too late. “What is normal?” She touched his hand with a fingertip,
warming as his eyes met hers. “In my world, it’s perfectly normal
for temple cats to sing for their dinner.”

“So he’s that way because he’s an Egyptian
Mau?”

“Nope.” Nathan dropped into another chair
and took a sip of the coffee he’d poured while she’d been focused
on Matthew. “Your temple cat is like that because you have spoiled
him rotten.” He shook his head as the cat licked the plate,
scooting it toward the wall as he mentally hummed the tuna song.
“Sweet, but that would drive me nuts inside a week.”

Naomi pulled back, frowning at the other
two. “What do you know of tending temple cats, nomad? They are rare
treasures. Innocents who must be protected from those who would
exploit their gifts.”

Matthew nearly choked on his coffee. “I hate
to break it to you Lia, but that cat is no innocent. He’s a
conniving, manipulative, sneak thief.” He winced as the tuna song
began again, soft and happy. “And his singing is horrible.”

“He wouldn’t have picked you if he didn’t
feel you were worthy.” She glared at Nathan. Some devout he was!
“Some believe that temple cats are a sign of Bastet’s favor.”

“Food’s here.” Gavin strode in, tall blond,
and muscular, looking like a Viking hauling in his treasure. He
dropped it on the counter with a hand flourish. “Lunch is served.
Or at least a midmorning snack. ” Two more wolven toted in pizza
and set them with the others. He waved as Matthew stood up. “Don’t
worry, I got it.”

Matthew frowned, but didn’t say anything.
Walking to the cabinet, he pulled out the stack of paper plates,
ignoring Ramses questioning meow, and passed them out. After the
boxes were cleared of food and everyone settled more or less into a
corner, Matthew set his own plate down.

“You know Gavin, the last fourteen hours
have been pretty…” He paused, obviously searching for just the
right word. “
interesting
for me
.
And I really
appreciate the last-minute save and ride home.” He picked up a
slice, taking a bite as the wolven party leader froze and focused
on him. Naomi imagined that anyone else would have been unnerved by
that look. With a glance at Nathan and Brandon, she amended that.
She
would have been unnerved. Matthew swallowed his bite and
met the wolven stare for stare. “But that was last night. It’s a
new day and I bet you guys have lots of stuff to do.”

Gavin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. The
effect was a quick baring of teeth that did nothing to put Naomi at
ease. “As far as guests go, we’re not that bad. We’re mostly
housebroken and no one’s eaten your cat.” He took a bite of pizza,
swallowing without chewing. “And we bought breakfast.”

Matthew didn’t look amused or derailed.
“Other than Brandon, we’re not your kind. And he’s from another
Pack. So, I don’t think your being here is for his benefit. BioPet
is hot for your species in particular as lab rat candidates. Which
I more or less mentioned last night. And they’re right in your own
backyard. “

“Correct me if I’m wrong—I’m working on a
learning curve here. But you seem like a loyal right-hand man sort.
So, I assume you’ve already reported everything to your boss and
you’re still here on his orders.”

“You’ve got a knack for the obvious, kid.”
Gavin looked down at his plate to find it empty. He tossed it on
top of one of the empty pizza boxes. “So, what’s your plan
now?”

“That’s not really your business,” replied
Matthew, walking to a narrow door that turned out to be a pantry.
He pulled out a large black trash bag and began making a round of
the room, throwing away paper plates and pizza boxes.

“Anything supernatural in our territory is
our business,” said Gavin. Matthew froze, the cat inside him having
heard the challenge, roared in response. The call blasted through,
jerking her upright with an indrawn breath. It was a roar, a
possessive heartbeat that rode the mystical link connected him to
all things magical and feline. Nathan and Morrow felt it too.
Ramses hissed, arching his back in response. Matthew’s eyes gleamed
from brown to lion’s gold. Faint stripes appeared, shadows of the
tiger that enfolded him from his collarbone, wrapping lovingly
around his abdomen to disappear in the shadowed rosettes just above
his waistband. The wolven Pack growled as the power level in the
room rose to painful proportions.

Gavin Changed, the man’s body stretching
into that of a silvery blond wolf-man. Clothing tore, stretched to
its maximum limit. His body bulked up as hair flowed over his skin.
Claws made for tearing supernaturally tough skin erupted from his
hand. His feet overflowed his soft tennis shoes and he shook the
cheap ruined remnants from his body with the ease of practice.
Filling his hands with fabric, the wolven pulled the remaining
fabric from his body. Throwing back his head, the leader of the
wolven hunting Pack, howled out his challenge to Matthew.