Page 74 of Cats Never Fly

“I’veset up a meeting with the local realtor in the morning.Andthe hoard movers will be here after lunch.Theymay even start hauling my treasure to a local temporary storage facility by the end of the week.”

“Astorage facility?”Hespun to face me, shocked. “Thatwon’t be safe.”

“It’sfine,”Isaid, waving my hand through the air. “Thereare few peopleIwould trust with my hoard, but my sister owns the company.Herentire business is securing hoards and treasures for her clients.”

“I’venever heard of anything like that.”

“Well, they try to be discreet.Itis an international company, catering to a very specific clientele.”

“Isuppose they would need to be secretive,” he muttered, then resumed his route around the apartment.Hebrushed his hand over the furniture as he paced.I’msure if he was in his cat form, his tail would be ticking back and forth, and his little ears would be twitching.Honestly, he was adorable.

Andhot.

Hewas wearing one of the shirtsI’drush ordered for him.Itlooked delectable on him.Ialso loved him in the green shirtI’dgiven him to wear the first time we’d been here—the one that was so thin his nipples were on display.Assoon as he’d pulled it on,I’dwanted to rub them to see if he’d squirm, and now, after having explored his body for a week,Iknew he would.

Westill had so many things to learn about one another, butI’dmade significant progress in mapping out the most sensitive spots on his body.I’ddiscovered what made him arch and writhe against my touch.AndIknew what would drive him to throw me down and strip off my clothes.

Ishook my head.Iwasn’t meant to be thinking about sex right now.Ieyed his shirt again.Thisblue one was a better fit than the oneI’dloaned him.Therewas something scrumptiously sexy about a man wearing clothes that looked tailored for his body.

Thisone wasn’t custom-made for him, butIhad plans to add a few bespoke pieces to his wardrobe soon.Isecretly wishedIcould toss everything in his wardrobe and start over, but that’d probably give my poor cat shiftera heart attack.Besides, he possessed a certain rugged appeal when he dressed in his worn jeans and fadedT-shirts.

“Yes,”Iagreed, pushing away my distracting thoughts.Ineeded to get to work. “Announcingto too many people that they secured treasure would only make them a target.”

“Thisis all expensive, isn’t it?”Simonwas studying a 15thcentury tapestry hanging at the far end of the drawing room.

WhenI’dmoved into this building,I’dpaid a mage a considerable sum to construct a protection ward around the tapestry, soIdidn’t have to hide it away in a dark, climate-controlled room.Themage’s hefty fees had been worth it.I’dstared at it for hours, remembering the battle it depicted between my family and another powerful dragon family.Itseemed impossible to imagine now that such a massive war between leagues of dragons had taken place, when there were so few of our kind remaining in the world.TheEternalMagicwas much stronger back then.Thevery air had been vibrant and alive with it.

WillowLakewas the closestI’dcome to feeling that type of power in centuries.

“What’sthe plan?”Simonasked, moving away from the tapestry.

“IsupposeIshould move the few treasuresIhave on display.Putthem with the rest of the hoard.”

Oneof the best things about living as long asIhad was collecting amazing items along the way.Unlikenewly turned vampires who aspired to live up to stereotypes about being wealthy, even if they were just turned a fewdecades ago,Idid not need to plunder archaeological sites for beautiful, priceless artifacts.Mostof my collection had been purchased as original works from the creators of the time.Itwas somethingIloved to do, even now.Sometimesthe artist faded from collective memory, and sometimes they found fame.Eitherway, it didn’t matter to me as long asIenjoyed the piece.

“I…”Simon’sface paled, and he shook his head. “Idon’t thinkIshould touch anything… uh… expensive.”

“Whyevernot?”

“WhatifIbreak something.”

Oh, my darling kitty cat.Hewas such a worrier. “Ifit would make you more comfortable, why don’t you pour us some wine?Ican gather the art.Thenwe can decide about what to eat.”

Henodded, but he didn’t look any more comfortable with that.

“Or, if you prefer something else, dash downstairs.I’msureIhave something you’d like in the bar.”

Heworried his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “Willyou be okay up here?Byyourself?”

Ilifted an eyebrow.

“Fine,” he said. “Just…Don’tdo anything whileI’mgone.I’llbe right back.”

“I’msureI’llbe fine, kitten.”Hewas so adorable to worry about me.Iturned away from him so he wouldn’t see my grin.

Iwaited untilIheard him open the door and scurry down the steps beforeIlifted a 16thcentury sculpture from its pedestal.Ihad lifted this piece countless times in thepast.Mysister couldn’t understand whyImoved my art and furniture around so often, but who wanted to live in the same space with the same things in the same places for months on end?Howtedious.

But, as soon asIhad it in my hands,Iknew this time wouldn’t be so easy.Igrunted with the effort to balance the piece and haul it through the apartment.It’dnever been this difficult.Myarms ached by the timeIset it on the floor in my closet.Ishook them out, happySimonwasn’t here to see how difficult that’d been.He’djust worry even more than normal.