Free Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V by Buffi BeCraft Page A

distance
from the cage to Sanderson. Blood flew from a blur of claws as the
wolven landed on top of the scientist. “And you’re dying.” He bent
face to face, long canines showing how feral he was to the human.
Not a civilized wolf shape shifter, but a werewolf of lore. A
monster. With a final slash, Sanderson’s throat was a wash of red
and missing flesh.
    Silence reigned except for the sounds that
Ridley made, still lost in his pain. The tension in the room
ratcheted up as the supernatural prisoners stared at gory
scene.
    “There hasn’t been a bitten cat in a
thousand years.” Morrow broke the silence.
    Naomi couldn’t say she was sorry about
Sanderson’s death. Still, she suppressed a shiver at the wolven’s
casual brutality. “Drake left his keycard to the locks in the
drawer.” She wouldn’t beg, but she wanted out. Standing up, she
faced the wolven as he contemplated his kill. They weren’t human
but consuming sentient creatures was taboo for most supernaturals,
unless like the scientist, they devolved and went nuts. She
wondered if the wolven was too far gone to be saved. “Please let us
help him,” she murmured, knowing he heard. He started, met her eyes
then focused on the man at his feet already starting to seize again
with convulsions.
    The wolven nodded, flooding Naomi with
relief. He heard. Ridley snarled as the wolven carefully set a
normal hand on his shoulder. He bent so low that Ridley could see
his face. “Matthew, can you hear me?”
    Matthew . Mathias . Naomi froze,
trying hard not to make the connection. Of course they knew each
other. They’d been captured together. Her lioness crouched inside,
waiting.
    After what seemed forever, Matthew Ridley
blinked, sucked in a breath, and gave a short nod. “Smell. Blood.”
The words seemed to come from far away. She thought she saw a
shadow shimmer along his skin, but pushed the imagination away.
Naomi bit her tongue to keep from hurrying the wolven. The scent of
burning skin made her realize that she was now standing pressed
against the bars, her hands wrapped around the toxic metal.
“Smells. Good.” A shudder passed through Matthew. “No. Bad. Not.
Good.”
    “It’s fine. It’s just your hunting instincts
kicking in. But you don’t want that. You can hunt for fresh food
when we get out.” The wolven told him, this time carefully touching
the bare skin on Matthew’s arm before removing the restraints.
Obviously, the wolf was no stranger to guiding those new to the
Change. “You’re doing fine. Just hold it together for a moment. I’m
going to let the cats out, okay?”
    He moved, but Matthew Ridley was fast. He
grabbed the wolven before he could go anywhere; a shadow pattern of
stripes ran across his arm. “No! I need….” Letting go, Matthew
wrapped his arms around himself and bent over. “Need…to go.”
    With steady movements, the wolven obtained
the keycard and slid it first into Naomi’s lock. She slipped out as
soon as the gate began rolling upward, drawn to the hurting man.
Wrapping her arms around him, she didn’t resist when he turned into
her with a low purring growl. The energy of the Change hummed in an
ever stronger song as like recognized like. Morrow and Nathan’s
hands joined hers. Naomi moved, dropping one arm so that they too
could welcome the first in so long.
    With his eyes closed, Matthew rubbed a cheek
against them in true clan greeting over whatever exposed flesh he
could find on the other cats, scent marking his subjects in the eye
of the storm that was the Change.
    “Uh-oh.”
    Naomi looked up at the three white-coats in
the doorway. Dr. Drake stood, just as silent as the rest by all
appearances, just as shocked. Matthew growled, the low rumbling in
his chest the only warning before his slipped the rest of the way
into the Change. She barely saw the sudden shift from skin to
golden fur, the dark mane, and powerful claws. In the world of
shape shifters, quick and fluid Changes were an indication