Cats in Heat Read online

  It didn’t work.

  It’s nothing. Just the change in air pressure from the storm. Chill out.

  Addie grabbed a candle and stood, wandering around the living room again to light more candles and brighten the space, but worry dogged each step no matter how she tried to ignore it.

  Chapter Two

  He ran.

  How long he’d been running, he didn’t know. Or where. All thoughts left his mind and it was just him, four paws striking the ground, slipping in mud. Rain soaked his pelt, wet grass swished at his sides.

  Thunder and lightning violently tore at the sky, like gods tearing into the atmosphere in pursuit of him. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate, he didn’t think—if Lincoln clawed through the air to pluck him from the ground right in that moment, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

  He ran harder.

  His sides ached with each breath, muscles burned in his body, and his pulse slammed in his veins. Still, he couldn’t let himself slow. He’d run until he couldn’t, then walk until unconsciousness took him.

  And that might be coming soon. He’d bled, heavily, for too long. The coppery scent still tickled his nose. He snorted it away, kept running. He might be leaving a trail but he couldn’t bear to stop long enough to cover his tracks. He only hoped he’d put enough distance between him and the place he’d left that the rain would wash away any sign of him.

  He broke through the woods and slowed just long enough to focus on his surroundings. Water ran in the distance and laid over there was the scent of humanity.

  Humans. Avoid humans. He had trouble forming actual thoughts in this form but that remained with him: he needed to avoid people. Every fiber of his being cautioned him of this.

  Night had descended, though he couldn’t remember when. Thick clouds above let loose torrents of rain that showed no sign of stopping. Exhaustion played black spots over his vision but he blinked hard and pushed on.

  Avoid humans. Avoid—

  But there was another sense there, something tugging at him. His head swiveled, ears flickering though he didn’t hear anything abnormal. He breathed, didn’t smell anything off.

  Still. Still, there was something...

  Instinct guided him forward. He slinked low in the grass as to not be seen. A road was ahead, and a large, rickety truck rolled by, headlights blasting through the grim night. After it rolled past, he darted down a ditch and across the wide road. The pavement, with its firmness and lack of give, sent shocks up his legs as he took three leaps across it. Once more he touched down on the grass and down another ditch.

  Houses here. Few and far between, but even the fields that separated them smelled of humanity. Caution overtook him as he skulked forward, eyes twitching to look everywhere at once. Even as he tried to increase his pace, he found himself slowing—he was too exhausted, too injured. Running on pure adrenaline had kept him going but he’d paused just long enough for all the pain to set in.

  He swayed, again, and tried to right himself. His steps were slow and heavy as he continued forward, all rational thought leaving him. Whatever tugged him forward grew stronger and he was left only to follow it.

  ****

  A firm hand rapped on Adelaide’s front door.

  Addie paused in front of the old woodstove tucked in the corner of her kitchen. Though she had a regular stove, she was glad the bungalow had one that didn’t require electricity for nights like this; water was coming to a boil on the stovetop for a cup of herbal tea.

  The power was still out and a dozen candles were set throughout the living room and kitchen with one in the bathroom. The front door was shadowed, however. She padded quietly across the hardwood, body tense from head to toe.

  The knock sounded again.

  Her steps increased until she was at the large, heavy front door. She pulled back the curtains at the window to the side and peered onto the dark porch. With a relieved sigh, Addie opened the door. “Lori.”

  Her neighbor stood there in a yellow, waterproof parka with matching boots. Lori’s car was in the driveway, the interior light on and revealing her husband in the driver’s seat.

  “Bringing goodies to help you overnight!” the middle aged woman said in an overly cheery voice. Even in the low light, her full cheeks were bright pink and smile was wide. She extended her arms and offered Addie a waxy, grocery-store banana box covered with a plastic bag.

  “Oh, I don’t need—”

  “We’re handing them out to everyone.” Lori waited with that smile glued to her face and Addie relented at last, accepting the box. “Water, some granola bars and non-perishable foods, new batteries, emergency candles and matches, and a travel first aid kit.”

  In case I trip in the dark and need a Band-Aid? But Addie smiled politely. The couple weren’t exactly “preppers” in the traditional sense—they weren’t about to make it onto a TV show with their preparedness for disasters yet—but they liked to think they were the go-to people for neighbors in case of trouble. Lori bought cases of canned soup and bottles of water in bulk once a month and Addie didn’t even want to imagine what their basement looked like.

  “Thank you, Lori,” Addie said, clutching the box and leaning against the doorframe. Chilly, damp wind touched her bare arms and while she knew she should invite the woman in, she really didn’t want to.

  “Now you be careful,” Lori cautioned. “No telling who’s out there.”

  “I keep the doors locked.”

  “Yes, but I know you end up out there with those damn cats all night.”

  Addie had become the unofficial neighborhood cat lady over the years; many of the felines were dumped out in the country and all found their way to her door. Some were feral and few would come anywhere near her, but she fed each and every one of them nonetheless.

  “I’ll just make sure the shelter is secure and that they have food—I won’t be long,” Addie said.

  Lori shook her head, the hooded parka crackling restlessly with the movement. “My dogs have been making an awful racket. Watch yourself, I don’t trust what’s out there tonight.”

  “Will do.” Addie stepped back and waited until Lori retreated from the porch before closing and locking the door again.

  With a heavy sigh, she set the rattling box down beside the couch and pulled the plastic bag from the top. Basically a twenty-four-hour supply kit, from what she could gather.

  Her kettle whistled so she left the box behind and headed for the kitchen. A mug of herbal tea already waited—one of the very, very few recipes of Granmama’s that Addie’s mom had written down—and she retrieved the kettle and poured the boiling water. A few minutes to steep—she could spend that time checking the shelter out back.

  After drying off and getting cleaned up that afternoon, she’d slipped into comfy yoga pants and a tank top. A hoodie waited on a hook by the back porch door, which she slipped on along with a pair of tennis shoes. She’d be soaked through quickly enough, but she pulled up the hood anyway, then grabbed a flashlight before she yanked the sliding door open.

  The rain had slowed since the afternoon but just barely. Wind still whipped it back and forth. The yard was dark. She flicked on the flashlight and the beam highlighted rain-slick grass.

  Her porch was screened in with a hole cut in the door leading to the yard, just big enough for the cats to slip in if they needed to. She left food and water out there for them but only a few would come that close to the house. The ones she’d been able to catch, who seemed like they’d been people’s pets, always went to the local rescue group to be placed in new homes. Unfortunately, too many were left outside without being neutered or spayed, and as a result feral colonies had sprouted. Periodically the rescue groups would trap, alter the animals, and then release them again, to at least keep the population down despite the fact that they weren’t suitable for homes.

  The ferals out there were nowhere to be seen in the storm, but she had a shed set up away from the house where they could slip in. She moved swiftly a
cross the creaky porch and took a deep breath before slipping outside.

  Rain blasted her face immediately. She blinked against it, bowed her head, and kept going. Her flashlight beam caught the battered shed. The door was locked but still rattled on old hinges. Holes were cut on both sides to allow the cats in.

  The keys waited in her pocket, and she fished them out to fumble with the lock. The metal was slippery but opened and she ducked in the shed as the door swung wide.

  Eyes glowed in the darkness, peering from the various cubbies and boxes. Tiny “mews” sounded; a female had whelped in the corner about two weeks earlier, in a space blocked off so the babies couldn’t slip out. Addie went for the sealed bucket of food and scooped out two cups into a communal bowl, which she left in the middle of the shed. Right now, they wouldn’t go near it, but once she was gone they’d dive in.

  “You guys be careful,” she said as she sealed the bucket once more and cast a look around at all the eyes watching her. Nothing she could do beyond offer them a safe space and food, but still, she felt bad for them. Her grandmother thought cats were good luck and Addie had always had a fondness for them.

  She stepped back out into the storm and once again locked the door shut. Hopefully everyone got in for the night. Her feet slipped on the grass and wind pushed against her as she turned away from the shed.

  Her flashlight caught a shimmer in the tall grass around the shed.

  Addie froze and swung the beam back around again. Grass and weeds twisted with the violent beat of wind as her flashlight shone around the side of the shed.

  Again the light caught it, two small, glowing balls of amber in the tall grass. Addie frowned and squinted against the wind, wondering what the hell—

  It stepped forward suddenly and the grass parted. The face came into view first, amber eyes watching her, and then the shoulders pushed forward. Large, heavy paws pounded on the ground.

  Her heart caught up somewhere near her throat at the sight of the massive tiger walking toward her.

  Addie blinked but it remained—not a whisper of a shifting vision or a trick played by her eyes. A real, live, enormous predatory cat was only eight feet away.

  And getting closer.

  Trembles ran down her arms and she tightened her grip on the flashlight until her knuckles were almost white. Her throat closed and she couldn’t draw in a breath or even think; she could only stare.

  The large cat took another step forward.

  Her rational brain pushed at her to flee even as she knew wild animals could sense fear and that this wild animal was close enough that she couldn’t get away. Still, she took an experimental step backward.

  The tiger padded forward.

  Another step back. The rain beat against her face but she couldn’t look away and her entire body shook as fear raced through her veins. The flashlight beam bounced on the tiger, flickering back and forth with her trembling.

  She could scream but no one would hear her. A few more steps and she was halfway to the house but the tiger had broken free of the grass and was passing the shed. He was huge, his shoulders coming up to her waist. Her eyes flickered down to his paws. Claws dug into the soft, wet dirt as he stalked forward.

  Irony of ironies, the neighborhood cat lady is going to die being eaten by a tiger. She couldn’t quite laugh at the absurdity of the situation, not as the beast continued toward her.

  Then he stopped abruptly. His head dipped forward and shoulders slumped. Addie continued backing up but the tiger didn’t attack, didn’t surge in her direction to make the kill. His attempted step forward was shaky and weak. He wavered, tottering from side to side, before stumbling and landing in a heap.

  Addie paused warily.

  She should run, she knew—her brain screamed at her to flee, to lock the door and call the entire county emergencies forces down to catch the thing. Instead, some buried instinct rose and cautioned her.

  Wait. Just...wait.

  She did, trusting that inner voice that sounded like her grandmother’s even as her heart hammered.

  The tiger’s pelt rippled as her flashlight swung over it. Orange and black stripes shuddered and shrank, fur rolling back like water and disappearing into pale skin. Muscles and bones twisted and contorted, snapping painfully, until an entirely new shape lay on her lawn.

  Addie stared down at a bruised, bloody, and completely naked human man.

  Chapter Three

  Adelaide continued to stare, the rain and storm around her completely forgotten.

  Definitely a man. A man who had just been a tiger. But now no sense of the animal remained. He was sprawled on his stomach, one arm bent awkwardly beneath him. Dark hair was plastered down and his head was still turned away from her so she couldn’t make out his face. Whoever he was, he seemed strong and young, with broad shoulders and a muscled back. But his ribs were prominent enough that he couldn’t have eaten well for some time. Bruises were dark and wide over his torso and scores of dark red crisscrossed his skin.

  She waited there, debating. Police—she could call the police. And an ambulance.

  For the man who was a tiger a few minutes ago. Oh my gods, I’ve gone insane.

  He shifted and she tensed, readied herself to run back for the door, but he didn’t make a move to rise. Instead he merely lifted his head and half-lidded, groggy amber eyes met hers.

  “Please,” he murmured, his voice barely carrying over the rain and distance between them. “Sanc...” His body curled inward as he let out a wracking cough.

  Thunder boomed above and the sky lit her lawn for an instant, shaking Addie from her thoughts.

  She’d still get the police. In the meantime, she wouldn’t leave him on her lawn.

  Addie crept forward, squeezing the flashlight and ready to brandish it like a weapon if necessary. But even as she tried to remain tough and firm, her heart softened in empathy at the clear beating he’d taken at some point.

  “I’ll still bash you over the head if you try anything,” she muttered as she knelt at his side. Water rolled down her hairline and into her eyes and she blinked furiously against it. Though it was the middle of summer, a chill had settled into her bones from the wild winds and she shivered.

  The man was at least still conscious. He responded when she touched his bicep and gathered himself onto his knees, but ended up leaning heavily on her to rise and start toward the house.

  He stood at least a foot over her and despite being on the underfed and bony side, he was built massive and broad, obviously powerful with corded muscles everywhere. She managed to avert her gaze from any of his personal parts and instead focused on getting him to the back door.

  His arm was a heavy weight on her shoulder and each step toward the house seemed to take several minutes. Eventually they reached the porch and he stumbled up, launching into the screen door that gave and swung under him. He fell forward and she couldn’t stop it, could do nothing but stand there as he landed hard on the old wood porch floor. Vibrations ran up her legs through her feet from the force.

  Move, think, get him sorted, then figure out what to do. Of all people, it was her grandmother who entered her mind, her wrinkled face crinkling with a knowing smile and eyes mischievous. Addie could almost see the elderly woman there.

  Addie took a deep breath and moved past the man for her house. Immediately she kicked off her shoes and stripped out of the hoodie, found her hand caught in the sleeve and realized she’d forgotten to put down the flashlight. She left everything in a heap on the kitchen table and rushed across the bungalow for the hall closet by her bedroom.

  Blankets, towels—she stared at everything for a moment, still trembling from the water and the aftereffects of fear, trying to get the thoughts to stop jumbling around in her head. Her entire body was buzzing with energy that she could feel running along her skin—it was real, an electric charge she’d never quite felt before.

  She grasped a pair of fluffy beach towels along with an old quilt and then rushed awa
y from the closet. Her feet splashed through water she’d dripped on the hardwood but she barely paid attention as she ran back through the house. Candlelight flickered and shadows played against the walls as she passed them. She spared the briefest of glances to the fireplace. If she allowed him inside—and why she was even thinking of doing that, she couldn’t say—it might be a good idea to let him dry off there. Though the bungalow was warm with the summer heat, even she was shaking from the cold rain.

  The sliding door was wide open still and even in the poor candlelight from the kitchen, she glimpsed him on the porch. She steeled her spine and tucked away any nervousness, focusing instead on moving forward and solving this issue before she freaked out.

  Though she was about to hand him a towel, at the last minute she thought the better of it and set them on the floor, unfolding the quilt instead. It was bigger and would offer him a bit more modesty, though thus far he hadn’t shied at all.

  “Here.” She draped the quilt over his trembling shoulders and knelt at his side. Her knees sank into droplets of water but her yoga pants were soaked through already. “Can you walk?”

  He was hunched over, head bowed. Water dripped from his hair. Eventually he nodded and tipped his head to the side, peering at her with sharp amber eyes. “Sanctuary,” he managed in a deep, warm voice.

  Fresh shivers rushed through her and her grandmother’s voice spoke in her mind. Give him sanctuary. Addie felt the air swell and seem to pop, scattering goose bumps down her arms. She let out a heavy breath, an odd warmth running through her.

  Sanctuary.

  She blinked and gave herself a mental shake, thrusting back all the weird emotions threatening to overtake her. Instead she focused on him, on his watching her. A bruise ran under his right eye and brushed his cheekbone, and a cut flared bright red. It wasn’t bleeding but it hadn’t stopped that long ago, and it was only one of many wounds.