Page 47 of Brandon’s Mate

Five seconds later Colt had gone snow leopard and grappled with him, and then they were smashing through the newly repaired porch railing and rolling into the yard.

With a screech, Remy erupted into owl form and dive-bombed them. Brandon rolled free of Colt, who was trying to shake off the remnants of his clothes. He swiped at Remy, catching a few feathers before he had to duck out of the way of the owl’s beak.

Shit. That had almost been his eye.

Colton was stalking him now, his leopard spitting and hissing. His eyes glowed amber, the way they did when he was about to deal major damage.

What the fuck? Brandon had just been playing with them. Sort of. His cat didn’t like them invading the territory, but hey. They were friends.

Or not. Colt bounded at him and gave him a really vicious slice along his flank, and then another on his right shoulder.

That enraged his cat, and he pounced on Colt in a flurry of fur and teeth and claws. He had to move fast because Remy kept dropping on him from above, trying to rake him with his talons.

They weren’t seriously trying to kill him, but they weren’t exactly playing either. These were not the two kids he’d wrangled with in his teenage years, honing his alpha dominance by kicking their asses when they tried to bleed him.

They’d turned into swift, potentially deadly fighters, and they were setting his panther off for real. This was about to turn ugly.

Colt grappled with him again, and Brandon fought his way free, snarling with genuine rage now.

Gloves off.

Just as he sprang on Colt, they were hit with a spray of freezing cold water.

Brandon and Colt split apart with identical yowls of fury and indignation, trying to get out of the way of the spray. Brandon shook the water out of his eyes.

Kitty was standing on the front steps, wearing one of Brandon’s t-shirts that clung to her boobs and barely covered her hips, with the garden hose in her hand.

Remy swooped at her from the sky and she turned the spray on him, drenching him and ruffling his feathers. He backwinged and extended his legs, turning human as he landed. He glared at Kitty, shaking his shoulders as if fluffing up his feathers. “What the fucking hell is up with that?” he demanded.

Kitty impaled him with a this-is-too-early-even-for-coffee glare.

“I am up,” she informed him. “Do you know why I’m up? Because two dick-wagging posturing catassholes and a fucking screech owl are fighting in the yard at zero dark-thirty in the damn morning. That is why I’m up.”

“I’m a snowy owl,” Remy muttered. “Not a screech owl.”

Kitty sprayed him again.

Colt was still in leopard form, pacing back and forth, snarling. “Oh, shut up,” she told him. “Y’all aren’t enemies. You’re just dicks. And what the fuck were you even fighting about? Never mind. I can’t deal with any of y’all’s shit before coffee.”

She dropped the hose and stomped into the house.

Brandon followed her, still in panther form. He didn’t want to deal with any of this shit, before or after coffee. Kitty continued her stomp into the kitchen and started opening cupboards and slamming them shut, presumably looking for the coffee.

Brandon hoped he still had some, or he was pretty sure there’d be more blood spilled.

Because he was not in the fucking mood, he left Kitty to her temper and stalked into the bedroom, still furry. He managed to calm his cat down enough for him to Change, and then he went in the bathroom, slammed the door and locked it.

Kitty wasn’t the only one who could slam things.

He started the shower and let it run, waiting for it to get hot. This place needed a new water heater in the worst way. If he were thinking about staying here, that was the first thing he’d install.

While he waited, he stared at himself in the wavy full-length mirror on the back of the door. He felt like everything was different, but he looked like usual after a bad night. Covered in blood and claw slashes, his face contorted in a snarl that wouldn’t go away.

His cat was still riled up. Nobody had won the fight, and his cat needed to win. Make them submit. They must submit.

The McCall twins? Good luck with that.

What the fuck was their damage? Kitty had said they were coming to help, but there were deep oozing wounds across his left shoulder. Not to mention his hip and butt cheek. Sitting down was gonna smart for a few hours.