April’s mouth fell open as she stared at the kitten. “But…cats and wolves…”
“Apparently no one told her who her natural enemies are.”
April stroked the kitten’s head with two fingers. “She’s so tiny. Russian blue, if I know anything about cats.”
“And do you?” He couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t squelch a wave of warm pleasure as he watched his mate’s face, saw her fall in love with the small, helpless creature in his hand.
“A little. I’ve had a few over the years, though it’s been a while. She’s so soft. May I hold her?”
“Of course.”
He set the kitten into April’s two cupped hands. As he stepped back, the kitten began crying, a high lost sound more frantic than the mewling she’d made thus far.
April’s face crinkled, and a sense of tender care surfaced in her scent. “Oh, it’s okay, sweetie. You’re still okay.”
The kitten turned her head, and when she found Malachi, she began crying directly at him. He brushed his thumb over the top of her head, and she quieted as long as he didn’t withdraw.
“Well,” April said. “I guess you have a cat now.”
“We’ll feed her, of course, but she’ll leave as soon as her survival instincts kick back in. Likely too hungry to refuse food from a wolf.”
“I don’t know. I think she likes you.”
His chest rumbled with humor. He ran his thumb from the kitten’s head down to her little tail, which twitched when he touched it. She turned and sank her sharp baby teeth into his thumb, and he flinched and then laughed. “That’s enough.”
He lifted her from April’s hands and carried her to the kitchen. He set her on the counter and offered her first a bowl of water, which she lapped greedily with her eyes squinted shut. Then he made a plate of plain sliced turkey and set it beside the bowl. The kitten abandoned the water bowl and began to devour the meat, her paws on the counter, half her body stretched over the plate. A faint purring noise began as she ate.
“Will you name her?” April said.
“Hmm,” he rumbled. “I’ve never had a pet. Not sure how to name one.”
“We could narrow the options. Something that says she’s yours. Something Malachi.”
“Such as?”
She held his eyes a long time. Then quietly she said, “Such as integrity.”
His chest rumbled deep in response. She saw him. Saw that he tried to live by that word every day. While the kitten purred and inhaled shreds of turkey, perched on the counter between them, April held Malachi’s gaze, and his wolf heart throbbed with the need to touch her. To hold her. To take her mouth with his own, to pull that towel-turban off her head and skim his palm over her damp hair.
“Such as studiousness,” she said. “Protection and preservation.”
Even with the counter between them, her sweet signature essence and her nearness set fire to his blood. He curled his fingers into his palms to keep his hands still at his sides. He fought the possessive howl that wanted release.
“Do you still see me as…what you said before…the day we met?”
Her question threw fuel on the blaze inside him. He nodded. It was all he could do, all he trusted himself to do without sweeping her into his arms.
“I wish I could, Malachi. I wish I could be what you want.”
“No.” His rasp was harsh, dry, the result of everything stirred up inside. Sorrow for her pain, rage toward those who caused it, and the desperate need to hold her. “Please don’t imply you would have to change any part of yourself.”
“I wouldn’t?”
“You would have to accept me,” he said. “But you would do so as your full self. You would continue to be exactly who you are.”
“Oh.” Her eyes lit with something like encouragement. “That’s…good to hear.”
Something in her scent implied she had more to say, but instead she was quiet. For a few minutes they watched the kitten together. When she had finished the turkey, she sat down and began cleaning her paws.
