Page 44 of Cats Never Fly

Irummaged through his meagre assortment of clothes.Hedidn’t have nearly enough of those either.Isighed asIpushed the shirts around.Andthe colors?Whyon earth did he have so many drab colors?

Iitched for my phone again.Ineeded to find and hire a personal shopper.MysisterBridgethad raved about her personal shopper at some point, ifIremembered correctly.I’dnever seen the need myself, but whereIadored shopping,Bridgethated it.AndIsuspectedSimonwould be likeBridget.Idoubted he would be comfortable bouncing from store to store to fill in the gaps in his wardrobe.Sure, he seemed amiable enough so far, but cats had a reputation for being headstrong for a reason.

Afternarrowing down the selection to the least offensive options,Ifinally settled on a blue shirtIfound shoved into the back of his closet and paired it with dress pants.Thefaint chemical smell clinging to both pieces suggested he’d never worn them.Someonemust have given them to him when he was a teen, because the sizes weren’t too bad for me.Itwisted to look in the dresser mirror at my ass.Notthe best, but better than the sweatpants monstrosityI’dbeen forced to wear the night before.Theblue shirt, though, complemented the color of my eyes, so at least that worked.

I’djust plucked out a pair of socks fromSimon’sdrab underwear and sock drawer when someone knocked at the door.

Hmm…Weprobably should have talked about our situation before he left.WhatwouldSimonwant to tellpeople about us?Butwe hadn’t talked, so it was up to me, andIwanted everyone to knowSimonwas mine.

Istrutted to the door and opened it likeIbelonged here.Standingin the hallway outsideSimon’sapartment were two big, muscular guys.Shit.Ishould have looked through the peephole first.Fora heartbeatIwondered if my kidnappers had found me again, but thenIgot a sniff of the men and a look at their mischievous grins.

“Simon’slittermates?”

“We’rehere to bring you to breakfast,” the taller one said.

Iopened my mouth to decline, but then my stomach took that opportunity to groan again.

“Soundslike we’re just in time,” the other guy said. “I’mClive, by the way.Andthis is my brotherWarren.”

“I’mguessing you already know, butI’mOgden.”Iheld up a finger. “Justa minute.Ineed to go scavenging for something to wear on my feet.”Irefused to go all dragon-footed again.Afterslipping on the borrowed socks,Ipoked around inSimon’spile of shoes untilIfound a pair of canvas onesIhopedIcould tighten enough that they wouldn’t trip me up whenIwalked.

Thebrothers watched me.Icould tell they were doing some sort of sibling communication, butIignored it.Ihadn’t expected to be exposed—er, introduced—toSimon’sfamily already, butI’dmanage.Peopleloved me.Asthey should.

Iexpected the two to pester me with questions, but they didn’t.

“Giveme the keys,”Clivesaid, holding out his hand to his brother when we reached their car.

Warrenscoffed. “Noway.I’dlike to get back toMama’sin one piece, thank you very much.”

“Idon’t know what you’re talking about…”Clivefrowned, the picture of innocence.

Warren’sface suggestedClivewas full of shit.

“Ogden, you sit up front with me.Clive, get in the back.”

Clivemuttered under his breath and followed his brother around to the other side of the car.Then, without warning, he tackledWarrento the ground.Theylanded with a thud.Therewas a scuffle, much grunting, and some colorful cursing, but from the passenger side whereIwas standing,Icouldn’t see anything.ThenClivepopped up, lifting the keys aloft in one hand.

“Got‘em,” he shouted. “Getin the back, asshole.”

Warrengroaned, wiping at his now bloody forearm as he crawled into the back.Isat in the passenger seat.GivenWarren’sexpression whenClivehad originally suggested he wanted to drive,Ibuckled my seat belt.Asa supe, specifically a very old dragon,Irarely worried about being injured, but it didn’t hurt to be pre-emptive.

AsCliveguided the car out of the parking lot, neither of them said anything.Iexpected cat shifters to be more curious.Butif they didn’t want to ask me anything,Iwas seizing the opportunity to ask my own questions.

“Howbig is your family?Isit just your parents and the three of you?”Isaidjustlike a family of five was common these days in the supe community, but it really wasn’t.

“Nah, our litter was four boys and there was a litter of two more boys that came after us.”Warrendidn’t look at me when he answered.Hehad his hands on the back ofClive’sseat as he peered over his brother’s shoulder at the speedometer, which was shooting up now that we were on the main road. “Slowdown.”

Cliveignored him.

“Wow.Thereare six of you?”Icouldn’t imagine.

Dragonunions usually only produced one or two offspring over centuries.Mysister was my clutch mate and my only sibling.Althoughmy parents constantly talked about expanding the family, none of their other clutches had been viable.Finally, after centuries of trying, they’d given up and filled their home with animals of every description instead.Theirplace was more like a free-range petting zoo now, where the animals—the most spoiled assortment of creatures to ever exist—could do anything they pleased.Afterfinding hens roosting in the bathtub, a herd of guinea pigs running around the kitchen, and a family of ferrets nesting in my bed during my last visit,I’ddecided to stay in a hotel next time.Butwho wasIto disparage another dragon’s hoard?

Myparents’ clothing, though, thatIcould—and often did—criticize.Itwasn’t seemly for a pair of dragons to run about dressed in ratty and stained work clothes all the time.Wherewas their pride?

But, back to the cats…

Catshifters,Iknew, weren’t usually as long-lived as dragons, so it made sense that their reproductive capabilities would be higher, but still…Havingsix children was unheard of for supes, particularly over the last century or so.Andwhy have so many?Ishuddered.There’dnever be a moment of peace. “Andall boys?”