I gave him a small smile. “I don’t think this would be much of a lawsuit. It was a wildcat.”
“He showed no stealth and was easily scared off,” Jace said, and I looked up to see him cradling his coffee mug. “I think we’re looking for someone recently infected.”
“What does that mean?” Morris’s wide-eyed glance flicked from Jace to me. “What’s wrong with me? Did I catch rabies?”
“No.” I picked up the thermometer from an inverted bucket being used as a nightstand and swiped the sensor across his forehead. “One-oh-three. You’re still sick, Mr. Morris. Why don’t you try to get some sleep? Spencer will replace your IV bag in a couple of hours, and when you’re feeling better, I promise I’ll explain everything.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but then he fell against his pillow, as if arguing would be too much work.
“You two go get some sleep,” I said as I sank into my chair at the small round table in the kitchenette.
“You sure?” Abby asked.
“He’s sure.” Jace stood and tugged her up. “I’m sure we can find something to do on our own.”
“What happened to getting some sleep?” She grinned as she snuggled up to him.
“I think that phrase is open to interpretation,” Jace said, one arm around her waist.
I tried not to listen to their private, largely explicit chatter as they headed up the steps, but a cat’s hearing is both a blessing and a curse. And not for the first time, I wondered if I was wasting my time petitioning for a Pride with myself as its Alpha. Jace had more experience and first-hand knowledge of the inner workings of the Territorial Council. I couldn’t help thinking that he stood a better shot of getting the Pride recognized.
Yet he and Abby swore the opposite was true. That Jace waspersona non gratato most of the council, having been permanently exiled from all ten territories. For crimes he didn’t even commit.
He’d accepted responsibility for what Abby had done to hide and protect Robyn from the council. Because Robyn had killed the men who’d infected her and murdered her friends, and in the process, had uncovered a ring of human hunters.
Robyn Sheffield, with her big, innocent eyes, had a higher kill count than most of my enforcers, and her targets had been actual, dangerous criminals, rather than strays who’d gone bad because no one was there to teach and assist them when they were newly infected, terrified, and confused.
Robyn was the most infuriating woman I’d ever met. Yet somehow she was also the most beautiful, fascinating stray I’d ever come across.
And she held the fate of my Pride—the trajectory of the rest of my life—in her graceful, deadly little hands…
A soft huffing sound wormed its way into my dream, and I woke up with my forehead resting on my arms, which were folded on the edge of the table. I blinked, and my bare feet came into focus on the concrete floor, between the legs of my chair. A soft beam of sunlight shone over them from the narrow window high on one wall.
Morning had come.
That sound came again—a deep huffing exhalation—and I sat straight up, my pulse rushing in anticipation.
Somehow, I’d slept through Corey Morris’s first shift. He sat on his haunches a few feet in front of the table, with his tail curled around his legs and his back to me. Glossy black fur covered a sleek but powerful feline musculature. He was slender in human form, but in cat form, he wasn’t much bigger than Abby.
Despite the groan of my chair when I sat up, he ignored me, his silent focus trained inside his cell at…Corey Morris?
Morris stood on two human legs in sweat-drenched clothes, staring through the open door of his cell at—
I sniffed the air, and her scent flooded my nostrils. I stood so fast my chair clattered to the floor.
The cat wasn’t Morris. It was Robyn.
She glanced over one shoulder at me, and the graceful arch of her neck gleamed in the florescent utility light hanging from the ceiling. Robyn blinked once, then dismissed me with a soft snort as she turned to Morris.
His eyes were wide, his forehead shiny with sweat. His cheeks practically glowed with fever. His gaze seemed to swim in and out of focus.
He probably thought he was dreaming. Or hallucinating.
“Robyn,” I whispered. “Come here.”
Instead, she stood and padded silently into his cell. Morris took a shaky step back. His chest hitched with deep, quick inhalations until his jaw snapped shut and he drew in a breath through his nose. Then he froze.
Recognition flickered across his expression, followed almost immediately by confusion. He wasn’t afraid of her, but he didn’t understand why. He recognized something about her scent, but he didn’t understand that either.
