Page 396 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Today, that someone is me.

"You're bleeding everywhere," he says flatly.

"Yep. It's the price of love, baby—OW!" I yelp as Shadow gets a claw through a gap in the flannel and hooks into my forearm. "Easy, baby girl, we're friends now, remember? I gave you caviar!"

The cat disagrees.

Loudly.

Plague starts examining the damage, staying out of the cat's reach, his dark brows pulling together. "These need to be cleaned. Cat scratches can cause serious infections. Cat scratch disease, pasteurella, tetanus if your boosters aren't current⁠—"

"I'm an alpha."

"Being an alpha doesn't make you immune to bacteria, bro."

"Kinda helps though?"

He gives me a look that could freeze lava. I love that look. I love him. I'm absolutely going to keep antagonizing him forever because making Plague lose his cool composure has become one of my top kinks.

Number one's sharing our little wildcat, of course, who appears in the doorway with Wraith, tucked under his arm as usual. They've been packing for the camping trip they're heading out on later today, with me going up around the same time to check on Claire, and I'm momentarily distracted by the lace panties clutched in her hand.

Her eyes go wide when they see the yowling flannel burrito in my arms.

You caught her? Wraith signs with his free hand.

"HELL YEAH I FUCKIN' DID!"

His eyes light up.

He's been trying to befriend this cat for months. We both have. And yeah, maybe I went a little rogue and just... dove for her when she came sniffing around the plate of caviar, and maybe she was almost Shadow the Pancake instead of Shadow the Cat, but hey.

"Is she okay?" Ivy asks gently, stepping closer to peer at the bundle.

Right on cue, Shadow stops hissing long enough to let out the most pathetic, pitiful mew I've ever heard.

"She's fiiiiiine," I say. "Just, uh, processing her new living situation."

Plague is still examining my wounds with horror. "You need antiseptic, at the very least."

"Your cheek is flayed open," Ivy says, reaching for my face.

Shadow tries to reach for her eyes.

I manage to re-wrangle the cat in a slightly snugger burrito. "Oh. Guess it's a good thing you think scars are hot, huh?" I say, winking at her as Plague herds me to sit down at the kitchen table.

"Hey," I say, nodding to Wraith. "You were right. Her paw's hurt. The front left one."

Wraith's expression softens to concern. He crouches down beside me, examining the cat through the gaps in the flannel. Shadow goes still for a moment, watching him with those huge green eyes, licking her lips anxiously, and I swear understanding passes between them.

Then she hisses at him too and almost takes the rest of his face off.

Vet, Wraith signs, straightening. We should take her.

"Agreed," Thane says from where he's been watching this whole circus unfold with his arms crossed. "She needs shots, a checkup, maybe get her scanned for a microchip. Someone could be missing her. She's a stray, so you might need shots."

"She's not a stray anymore," I interrupt. "Shadow's our cat. Pack cat."

"Rabies won't care whose cat she is," Plague says mildly. "She filleted you. This is a health risk."