Free Hunting Kat by P.J. Schnyder Page B

with old trauma and instinct. Even in cat form, she needed human thinking to succeed.
    She could have left him to the alien felids. They seemed willing to let her go free. She’d had nothing to do with the situation.
    She could go the high road and claim an angelic desire to help Rygard redeem himself and save his life. The man was probably an excellent fighter, but he’d been outnumbered and wouldn’t have been able to fight off the jaguar to boot. And there were the cubs to think of too.
    But no, that wasn’t all of it. She’d hated the way his lips twisted in disgust as his opinion of her disintegrated in less than a microsecond. He’d called her a trap, as if everything about the way they’d met and the time spent together had been calculated, a symphony of lies. She could only show him who she was, because words weren’t going to change his perception. Even if he seemed okay after the deal they’d made with the felids, she knew he didn’t have the truth of her.
    And somehow, that mattered far more than it should.
    “Lights out,” the guard called, his voice harsh. She heard him rattle the cages of a few of the captives still moaning or begging for freedom. “Shut up!”
    The memory came back to her of the slave girl’s dull stare, the stink of sex in the air. She crouched down within her cage, suppressing the need to claw at the containment field. Rage filled her, her heart picking up speed, sending blood coursing through her body. She’d been there. She’d been that girl.
    Light blinked out, leaving them all in oppressive darkness. The acrid stink of fear intensified as if the dark made the hopelessness of captivity worse. With no sense of day or night, time stretched out endlessly. She’d listen for any sound, half-needing some sign of life and half-terrified of what new torture it would bring. She remembered the despair.
    But now, darkness was exactly what she needed. This was a night of action. She shoved the echoes of terror far back in her mind, gathering her legs underneath her, ready and waiting. She ignored the ghostly weight of a collar and chains—refused to let them hold her.
    A few emergency lights here and there on the ceiling and walls gave off light. Faint, but more than enough for her to see by.
    A chattering came from the near wall. The cover of the ventilation shaft shuddered as the corners were compromised from the inside and a tiny head squeezed out one side. Chester squeaked a greeting then worked the rest of his long, furry body free and dropped to the stacked crate below. A harness had been strapped to him with a rolled-up plastic bundle attached.
    In moments, the ferret stood on his haunches examining the grav platform. Giving him a hint, Kaitlyn tapped one side with her paw, drawing his attention to the controls. In moments, Chester pressed the button to deactivate the containment field.
    She leaped off the pad, shaking off the phantom chains from her past and climbing quickly up the crates to the ventilation shaft. It took two carefully quiet jumps to nab the cover and pull it completely free. Setting it to the side, she turned and leaped back to the floor, gliding on silent paws to the cage holding the jaguar cubs. Kindred, the felids had called them. Sensing her approach, the male stood his ground, hissing a challenge. His fur stood up across his arched back as the little female huddled behind him.
    She figured they wouldn’t trust her, not with the trauma they’d suffered thus far. She turned to Chester, gently nipping the plastic bundle off his back and tearing it open to reveal a piece of fabric. It carried the scent of the felid aliens and the jaguar. She’d requested it earlier while her plan came together.
    Her ferret sidekick hopped his way to the side of the cage, working his magic on the containment field as Kaitlyn presented the cloth to the cubs.
    She prayed the male was intelligent enough to catch the scent quickly and shut up before the guard came.
    “I said,