What’s New Pussycat(40)

Falling forward onto her hands, Martine’s eyes followed the swift change from skin to black fur covering her hands until they became much smaller paws. Her tail sprouted, long and winding, sensitive to the shift in wind, almost like an antenna. She gave her haunches a shake before sloughing off the last of her human form.

Derrick’s eyes on her felt somehow intimate. No one had ever watched her shift before. As a child, once she learned it was of value to her father, she’d flat-out refused unless she was alone and the pressure became too much to bear.

As an adult, it was never a very pleasant experience. The urge to run often came hard and heavy with the shift, but finding somewhere to run freely in Manhattan without ending up caught by Animal Control or having things thrown at her wasn’t a treat. So she suppressed it as often as possible until she couldn’t suppress it anymore.

Yet, Derrick watched with approval. She caught his eyes gleaming in the dark just before she’d dipped her head and allowed the full change to take over.

When Martine lifted her gaze, Derrick had begun his shift, too, and it was magnificent to watch as rippled muscle turned into a solid set of legs covered in thick fur or a barrel chest, wide and strong. He stole her breath when he, too, fell forward on his paws and his face began to change.

It was so swift, one blink of her eye and she would’ve missed it, but she forced herself to watch—to see why this appealed to him so much.

As if Derrick could be anything else, he was gorgeous in shift, majestic, as black as coal, enormous and regal. On soft paws, he approached Martine, using his nose to nudge her.

She stuck one of her paws out from beneath her fallen jeans and tripped over the pool of clothing until Derrick used his teeth to pull them away and free her.

He looked toward the forest and the field beyond and then he began to run, glancing once over his shoulder, his eyes red and glowing, as if he were challenging her to a race.

She was awkward at first, stumbling and very un-catlike until she found her footing, until the ground became not just frozen and uncomfortable, but part of her, its energy surging through her. Her eyes stayed on his backend, mesmerized by the power in his haunches as they ran through the woods, between trees, over hills, while the quarter moon shone down on them.

Peace. That was what she felt. Not just in her surroundings, the vast acreage the Adamses called home, but from within, creeping along her spine, rustling through her fur.

Snow began to fall, but she almost didn’t notice the pelt of large, icy flakes—this was too exhilarating, too overwhelming, too amazing.

Suddenly everything was different. She wasn’t hiding in some alleyway to relieve the pressure of the shift, avoiding humans and their angry words when they chased her away.

She was running and life was flowing through her veins, singing in her blood. Her heart was thumping, the cold air was ruffling her fur, invigorating her. Flying. It was almost like flying, and there was no one here to tell her she couldn’t do it.

It was euphoric.

Well, that is until she ran smack into a hand that snaked out from a bush and grabbed her by her scruff, hauling her upward and stealing all this newfound freedom right out from under her.

The. Hell.

Martine didn’t think. She didn’t pause to see who’d grabbed her. Instead, she reacted like a poked bear, reaching with her paws and swiping as much flesh as she could possibly scratch, howling, twisting, biting until she tasted soft skin between her teeth and the coppery tang of blood.

It was a man—she smelled him, sensed him, but Martine didn’t stop to figure out who or why. Instead, she scrambled atop his head and began to tear at his scalp, forcing her paws into his thick hair and ripping at him with sharp claws.

He reached upward with a grunt, grabbing for her fur, swinging his head forward then thrusting it back to knock her off.

No! No one was going to snatch her up against her will again!

The owner of the hand yelped, cursed, tore at his head until he got a hold on her and threw her to the cracked, icy ground with a snarl, leaving her dazed when she smacked her head on a rock.

Just as footsteps thumping against the ground began to fade, a low, threatening growl hit her ears.

Derrick nuzzled her with his cold, wet nose, running it over the top of her head until her eyes popped open. His eyes held a question as she tried to stand, but her legs wobbled and her paws felt numb.

She hadn’t had a workout like that in quite some time. Coupled with assault, it left her feeling a little weak. Leaning against him, she panted, attempting to reorient herself.

Derrick didn’t wait to see if she could walk back with him. He grabbed her by her scruff, keeping his jaw slack, and began to run with her toward his house, the lights from his front porch fast approaching.