“Thank you.” I kiss his neck and lie slumped into him, as if I’ve melted, while our heartbeats count the time. After some time, I wriggle upright. He’s still inside me, and the mess we must have left on the chair…
“Never take this off,” Kail murmurs and nudges the collar. “Not unless I allow it.”
“Of course.”
Our kiss is sublime and soft, not possessive, a quiet acknowledgement of who we now are—together.
A while later, he says something I don’t quite hear as I’m snuggled into him, half-dreaming and happy, miles away from the angst-flooded life I’ve been living for…well, months.
“What?” I raise my head off his chest.
His words bring me back to reality. “She said your cat is not a real cat?”
“She did. Which is a problem but maybe a minor one?”
“Very minor, compared to wondering if the shower works in this house.” He slips both hands around my ass and stands up. I wrap my legs about his waist. “The cat can be whatever it wants to be so long as it only watches.”
“And wants pats.” I mumble this to his neck, kissing it, kissing his scars, as we lumber across the floor. “I think it’s absorbed the reality of a cat even if it isn’t one.” Revenant is ground zero for weirdness. On any other day, in any other town, I’d be freaking out over a cat that is not actually a cat.
Here, in the arms of a frankenstruct dude with a zillion surgery scars? A man who, once upon a time, was dead. A peculiar cat is like finding a new flavor of ice cream.
“Huh. Maybe.”
When we venture into the rest of the house, we find the water is turned on and the bathroom is actually a place where we can wash.
The fridge is humming, if a bit moldy inside, but also empty. The pantry has limited cans and packets but a textfrom Molly tells us to look outside the front door. Though I’m wearing only a T-shirt and underwear, I brave the chill wind and go with Kail to check what is there. On the leaf-strewn welcome mat is a box of groceries, with milk, a packet of meat, and a few odds and ends like milk, cheese, and apples.
I’m not sure how long we are staying in this house, but this will be sufficient for a day, maybe two, with what else is here.
We unpack it in the kitchen.
“I hope they aren’t starving themselves.” I pull out three cans of cat food from the bottom of the box. Grinning, I show those to Kail. “Supper?”
“I’m not eating that.” He smacks my butt, giving it a warm buzz to add to the small teeth bruises I already bear. When I waggle my butt to taunt him, he stares and eyerolls.
“Am I getting an I-need-to-spank-that message from you?”
I snort, but before I can say more, Squiggle Cat wanders in. “Do you think it knew?”
He shrugs.
Did it know, somehow, that I have cat food? I peel open the can and find a plastic bowl, drop half of the can into it.
Our not-a-cat, prowls over, sniffs, licks up some fragments, then picks up the bowl in its front teeth and trots away. Having been warned, I check and…not that I’m totally sure but…no butthole visible.
“Where the heck is it going?” I consider following it.
“Maybe it wants to eat in peace?”
“Well, if we’re not going to see… Show me your finger, where Melody stitched you.” I guess I can ignore Squiggle if I’m sleeping next to this hunk of weird, badass muscle.
He raises his hand and lets me study the index finger he lost then conveniently regained. I make him move it, flex it.
“It’s not even bleeding?”
“Nope. I don’t bleed much, though it is red.”
“Phew.” I smirk. “If it weren’t red I’d have to reject you.”
