“Good,” I told him, nodding.
If he started neighing next, the entire thing was being called off and he’d return to being a puppy…
Broken or otherwise, even if the thought made me more than a little uncomfortable.
I wasn’t going to put up with his games. I was giving him one option to choose what he wanted to be, even though I didn’t want to. One. No more. Not again.
Except I had the feeling that I was falling into those eyes. He’d be able to manipulate me again and again as he stole what he wanted from me, even as I desperately sought a way to bring him to me. I didn’t want to get played, but that was exactly what was happening, wasn’t it?
“If you’re fucking with me…” I began, not even sure how to complete that thought.
He swallowed hard then replied, “I’m not. I just got the idea today, and it seems… like something I can manage better. Being a puppy makes me want to crawl into a hole and die.”
Ouch. I flinched despite myself.
“But the idea of being a captive kitten doesn’t fill you with those same feelings?” I asked, my voice more than a little sharp.
“No,” he said softly. “It’s… If I’m going to be here…”
Of course he had to be here.
“Then I’d rather be something that feels a little more… you know… like me.”
“You mean like the cruel little asshole you came in here as,” I said. Maybe I was being a little defensive, but he hadn’t exactly been kind.
Then again, I hadn’t exactly given him much choice about being here with me.
“I was upset!” he said hotly. “I didn’t want to be here, okay?”
“Didn’t.” I seized upon the word, briefly letting it fill me with hope before I got control of myself again.
“Now it’s not so bad,” he mumbled. “I mean, I’d go home in a heartbeat if I could.”
Of course he would. The thought filled me with bitterness.
“But I can’t. So…”
It felt like we were going around in circles, but I couldn’t seem to bring us to anything new. Over and over, my mind kept replaying the conversations we’d had when he’d first arrived. He’d been a little shit before I’d started to break him.
Now that he was a little bit broken, he was much easier to deal with.
But a cat…!
I ran my hand over my forehead, trying to come to terms with all that had happened today. I had to let go. If he was going to behave, to come around willingly, then I was going to take advantage of that.
Resolve strengthened, I strode over to the kennel and unlocked it. I opened the door, gesturing for him to come out. “Come on,” I told him. “Let’s see about dinner, then we’ll talk about this some more.”
Or rather, I’d talk, and he’d listen and obey. That was the only way this was going to happen.
5
RYDER
Even though he’d agreed to let me be his cat, he still treated me like I was a pup. I didn’t know what to make of that, except for wondering if he was going to go back on his word. A few days passed, and everything he did with me — right down to exercising by chasing a ball around — was straight out of the puppy playbook.
I didn’t want to bring it up again, but when he told me to bark, I meowed — just in case he’d forgotten what he’d agreed to.
He let it go, but I wasn’t sure how long I could handle the puppy crap when I’d gotten so hopeful about being a cat. A little too hopeful, to be honest, and now I could feel that safeguard being crushed. I thought I could handle this as something other than a pup, but he kept insisting on treating me like one instead of giving me a chance.
