We just bonded.
Accidentally.
But was it an accident? I should have been able to stop.
I lostcontrol.
Slowly, I inch us out of bed. I grab my phone before heading into the bathroom. It’s going to take a few more minutes before my knot recedes, but I can at least wash all this blood off of us.
With my supernatural healing abilities, my wound from Farrah’s bite will be healed within the hour. But hers? It will need to be bandaged.
I place my phone on the counter and command the virtual assistance to text Evangeline, telling her to come over to Farrah’s ASAP. She’s in Brooklyn at the conference so it’ll take her a while to get here. I add that Farrah’s okay, so she doesn’t worry.
I think she’s okay.
Her heart is beating, so that’s a good sign. I hate that I’m still inside her while she’s unconscious.
It feels as if I’m violating her.
I did violate her. We mated without her consent.
Once we’re clean of blood, my knot is down enough that I’m able to slip out of her. I turn off the water and carefully wrap her up in a towel. I find medicine and a bandage in her bathroom closet and cover my bite wound—thankfully it stopped bleeding—then carry her in my arms back to the bedroom.
Fuck. The bed sheets are covered in blood splatter.
I take her out to the living room and lay her on the couch. Returning to her bedroom, I grab some clothes—a t-shirt and sweatpants. After dressing her, I find a blanket in the closet and tuck her in.
When I stand, my body stills as the scent of an animal hits my nose.
Not just any animal.
A fucking cat.
“Oh, hell no,” I say.
It meows in response, loud and accusing, before a flash of black and white appears. The plump thing jumps onto the couch and sits on Farrah’s stomach, staring at me.
It knows what I’ve done.
It meows at me again.
“What do you want? I don’t understand your language, feline.”
Where the hell has this thing been hiding?
I suppose Farrah and I assaulted each other upon my arrival. The animal likely ran off and hid underneath the couch or something.
Well… now it stares at me as if planning my demise.
I wouldn’t say I’m scared of cats, but I don’t trust them. The one time I tried to pet a feline, it swiped its little claws at me. Not that a cat could kill me.
I don’t think.
The chance is low… but I wouldn’t bank on zero.
I totally forgot Farrah had a cat. Though, now I’m remembering her social media posts about this little dude. His name is Potato, andPotatowon’t stop staring at me. Staring and purring loudly. I’m pretty sure purring is a good sign, so maybe he doesn’t want to kill me.
Yet.
