Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Chains grunted, scouting out my new living space with his gaze. My suite was pretty big, considering it was just me. The cats had plenty of room. Not that it seemed to make a difference. They’d already figured out how to open the door so they could go wherever they wanted. Despite the size, it felt cozy. Unpacked boxes still sat in one corner, and my Halloween decorations claimed territory on every available surface. Black candles stood on mismatched holders, and strands of fairy lights cast a warm orange glow across the walls. The lingering scent of sage and lavender incense hung in the air, masking whatever remained of my potion disaster.
“Still getting settled,” I explained, suddenly self-conscious about the clutter. I hadn’t expected company, especially not one of the guys. Most of them were slightly terrifying, but I found Chains surprisingly disarming. Probably the way he pretended not to like my cats when he clearly did.
“It’s fine,” he said, his voice low and rough. He stood awkwardly in the center of my living room, looking too large for the space, too wild for the domesticity.
Lucifer chose that moment to emerge from the bedroom, his yellow eyes narrowing at the sight of our visitor. His back arched, fur standing on end as he released a hiss that would have made a cobra proud.
“Lucifer,” I scolded. “Be nice.”
Chains tensed, his jaw tightening. “That one doesn’t like me.”
“He doesn’t like anyone,” I assured him. “It’s why he’s named Lucifer.”
Salem appeared next, perching on my bookshelf like a sentinel. She watched us with careful, calculating eyes, her tail swishing slowly back and forth.
“That’s Salem,” I said, nodding toward her. “She’s the strategist of the group. Always plotting something.”
Chains glanced up at Salem, then back at Binx, who continued to circle his legs with relentless devotion. Seemed at least one of my babies had decided Chains was an all-right guy. “And this one?”
“Binx is the lover,” I explained, watching as my normally reserved cat rubbed his head against Chains’ boot. “He’s the nurturer, though he’s never been this friendly with a stranger before. He must sense something in you he likes.”
Chains looked down at Binx with a mixture of confusion, reluctant fascination, and maybe even resignation. His shoulders, which had been rigid since entering, dropped slightly. He exhaled, a long breath that seemed to carry some of his tension with it.
“You can sit if you want,” I offered, gesturing to the couch which had come with the apartment. I had mismatched pillows on each end and a blanket folded and draped over the back. All Halloween-themed, of course. “Unless you’re afraid Binx will follow you.”
A hint of a smile touched Chains’ lips. “I think he’s gonna follow me anyway.” It was only a small thing, but when his lips curled even that smallest bit, when his eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the corners, I knew I was in real trouble. Because this man was absolutely devastating.
He lowered himself onto the couch slowly, his massive frame making the furniture look small. Binx immediately jumped up beside him, then boldly climbed onto his lap. Chains froze, hands hovering in the air as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them.
“He wants you to pet him,” I said, sitting in the armchair across from him. “If you dare.”
Chains shot me a look that might have been annoyance or amusement, I couldn’t tell. Slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, he lowered one hand to Binx’s back. The cat arched into his touch, purr intensifying.
I watched, transfixed, as Chains’ large, tattooed hand moved in slow, lazy strokes along Binx’s spine. His fingers were long, his touch gentler than I’d expected. A shiver ran through me as I imagined those same hands on my skin, tracing patterns, exploring with that same careful attention.
“Never had pets,” Chains said suddenly, breaking the silence. His eyes remained on Binx.
“Never? Not even as a kid?”
He shook his head. “Wasn’t allowed. Foster parents never had dogs ‘cause a couple of the boys livin’ there hurt the one they had before I came.”
“That’s sad,” I said. “Everyone should experience the love of an animal at least once.”
His lips twitched. “You call this love? Pretty sure your other cat wants to murder me in my sleep.”
I laughed. “Lucifer wants to murder everyone in their sleep. It’s part of his charm.”
“You realize cats don’t really like you? They tolerate you because you’re a sure source of food and shelter. And the occasional treat.”
“Isn’t that the way with people too? Quit puttin’ out and they bail.” Yeah. Not my best conversation.
Another silence fell between us, heavier than before. I studied him as he petted Binx, noting the tension in his shoulders despite his gentle touch on my pussy. I mean cat! “So,” I tried again. “How long have you been with the Kiss of Death?”