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“What is this?” He loosened the knot.

The cat swatted the bag from his palm before he could open it. It plopped to the sand.

“What? You dropped it at my feet. What do you want me to do, leave it?” With a groan, he gathered the bag again, this time protecting it in his fist. It obviously belonged to someone, and whatever was inside likely held magically imbued importance to its owner. “You stole this from someone—”

“Holly!”

Alistair’s shoulders stiffened.That voice.

Actually, it was more like a screech, but he’d recognize that lilting sing-song voice anywhere, even with the angry hitch.

“Oh, you bad, bad cat!”

Slowly, he twisted, still on his haunches, and tipped his head to pinpoint the source of that scolding voice. A flush of heat battled the wariness within him as he caught sight of Niera struggling across the sand, an arm wrapped around her midsection. His gaze roved over her small form, the corner of his mouth quirking upward when he caught a glimpse of the sneakers on her feet.

Definitely not a beach familiar.

The cat slinked around his legs as he twisted his beer can into the sand to keep it upright and straightened, dangling the bag from his pinched fingers. “I take it this is yours?”

Panting, Niera hobbled a few more steps, then braced her hands on her knees. The cat scampered toward Niera, winding its sinuous body between her legs, and earned a scowl from the breathless woman.

“What…on this…gods-forsaken Earth…”

Alistair hurried to her side when he noted how pale her upturned face appeared. It certainly wasn’t a trick of the moonlight, because beneath that pallor, he caught the distinct hue of green he would see on someone about to be sick. Maybe the moonwasplaying tricks, because her cheeks appeared sharper than he remembered, her eyes slanted a bit more. They glowed as if candles were lit behind them.

And her ears. Tapered points stretched up from the normal curve of the shell, quivering like an unstable hologram before fading.

Shaking off his confusion, he motioned to the sand.

“Hey, sit down. Catch your breath.” He tentatively placed an arm around her waist, ignoring the potent tingle that erupted along his skin, and lowered her to the ground. “Head between your knees.”

“My…bag…”

He handed her the small pouch. She clutched it to her chest, rocking slowly, eyes closed, like the bag banished all negativity. After a moment, she interlocked her arms across her bent knees and rested her forehead on them. As her hair fell over her head, he once again caught a glimpse of a shimmering tapered ear that vanished just as quickly.

Alistair narrowed his gaze on the cat. Devious little creature. The cat smiled back, showing off needle-like fangs. Pride poured off its furry little body and, when it sat, it puffed out its chest. The blotchy mask of black across its face—a feature unique to the Sherwood cats—enhanced the glow of its luminous eyes. Eerily knowing eyes.

“Why’d you take that from her?” he asked the cat. He’d not realized he was stroking Niera’s back until her spine shifted beneath his palm. She turned her head to look at him, strands of rich hair cutting across her face. He took in the features of her face, but whatever tricks of light the moon had cast over her had vanished. She was just as he remembered, and that memory was a tattoo in his head.

“You’re talking to a cat like she’s going to talk back,” she said. He was glad to see the sheen of green under her skin replaced by a blush of rose, though her eyes remained slightly unfocused. She rolled the contents of the small purse around, the items scraping together inside. “Thanks for getting them back. Don’t know what got into her.”

“She’s a Sherwood, that’s all the reason she needs.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” Niera sucked in a controlled breath, released it, and lifted her head. “Not sure I understand much about this town.”

“Annie filled you in on the cats, right?” When one of Niera’s gently sloped brows lifted, he shrugged. “Your friend. We call her Annie.”

“I already figured that out, thanks. All she said was they’re not normal cats. I’m curious, though. This town is overrun by them.”

“Are you feeling better? You looked like you were going to be sick.”

Niera rubbed the back of her neck, turning her head to stare at the sand. The cat stood up, stretched its hind legs, and meowed.

“I caught you, now go on,” Niera said, scratching the cat’s ears before the calico trotted off.

Alistair stared at the back of her head—oh, what he’d give to comb his fingers through her hair, just once—trying to make sense of the complicated woman. What was it about her that made him forget, even for a moment, his goal of returning home? What was it about her that made it so easy to want to stay land-bound? What was it about this one woman that plagued his every thought, even when he tried to cast her away?

At last, Niera gave him her focused attention. Despite the faint tremors that shook her arms, she appeared as she had in the pizzeria.