Page 22 of Bite Back

DELILAH

A small shadow greets me as I approach Sarah’s apartment after dropping off Asher, head poking out from the alley. The stray cat.

She’s braver in the dark, sauntering up to me and winding between my legs. I pet the soft fur of her head, and she emits a cooing sound like a little pigeon.

“Well, hello to you too.” My palms note the prominence of her bones. She’s lost weight.

Bending down, I scoop her up, cradling her to my body.

She chirps indignantly before settling against me, tucking her chin over my arm.

I take that as confirmation I’m doing the right thing.

“Let’s get you some dinner, huh?” She perks up at that.

“You’d like that, huh?” I scritch under her chin.

“Let’s get you inside, and then we’ll find you something.

” She settles back into my arms draping herself over me with an acceptance that makes my heart melt.

Awkwardly, I fumble for my keys, doing my best to extract them from my pocket while clutching the cat to my chest. The key rattles as I insert it in the lock, and I sigh in relief when the door clangs shut behind me, the cat still firmly in my possession.

Her claws dig into my arm, pricking my skin as I shift her position.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” She clings to me as I climb the staircase, footfalls echoing down the stairwell. Her green eyes stare up at me, wide and questioning. I murmur a string of reassurances under my breath as she blinks up at me.

Laughter spills out from behind Sarah’s door when I arrive there. Rather than shimmy the keys out again, I tap my foot against the door.

Moments later, the door creaks open, painting an arc of yellow light across the dark hallway. We’re swept inside by a chorus of exclamations and questions from Sarah and Kirby.

Kirby clusters close, but Sarah, I notice, hangs back. The cat soaks up the attention, prancing and preening for them.

“She’s so gorgeous,” Sarah declares. Warmth settles in my chest.

I nod. “She really, really is.”

Sarah kneels down and slowly offers a palm. “I’m not sure if she’ll like me. Maybe I smell like dog. Cats were always hesitant around me when I was a wolf.”

“She’ll like you.” And, sure enough, she sashays right over, fluffy tail swaying behind her. She sniffs Sarah’s outstretched palm and nuzzles her face into the hand.

A smile sparks on Sarah’s face, spreading across it wide and beautiful like a sunset.

“She likes me.” A note of seeming disbelief colors the declaration.

She curls her palm to scratch under the cat’s chin and behind her ears, earning a low, deep purr.

Sarah eases herself the rest of the way down onto the floor, crossing her legs, and the cat clambers on top of her and begins kneading.

Kirby bends down as well, skirting her palm over the feline’s fur. Her hand grows more solid, flickering from translucent to nearly opaque. A delighted giggle leaves her mouth. “Her fur’s even softer than I thought it would be.” Tears well in Kirby’s golden eyes.

The cat bristles, head swiveling to take in Kirby’s tears. She nips Kirby’s hand as if to say no, stop it.

“No, no biting.” I do my best to inject indignation into my tone so she can learn. But underneath it all, there’s no real bite to my chiding.

Just because she’s prickly doesn’t make her any less worthy of love. Now, if I could only learn to believe the same about myself.

I wake up groggy, still wrapped in the fog of sleep. The cat nestles beside me, curled up in the crook of my shoulder. As I stir, she stretches out her paws across my neck and then burrows deeper beside me.

I brush my fingers over the fluff between her ears and earn a contented purr.

“Hello, yes, good morning.” The door to Sarah’s room is open, a tangle of sheets and blankets left in her wake. I fumble for my phone, scrolling through my list of messages.

Sarah: I’ve left for work and the cat’s already been fed, don’t let her convince you otherwise.

We’d made a late night bodega run to secure the promised cat food. The cat crooks her head and lets out a plaintive mew. I chuckle.

“Oh, you. I have it on good authority you’ve been fed already, ma’am.”

She gives a snort and stalks away. She goes over to the window, where the blinds are still closed, blocking out the morning light. She nudges the edge of the blind with her nose, creating space to poke her head out. I chuckle and swing out of bed, padding across the hardwood floors in my bare feet.

I pull up the blinds, wincing as the midmorning light hits my eyes. Those big green eyes stare up at me, wide and adorable. “I’m okay, sweet girl. The light’s just hard for me sometimes.”

She bumps her head against my legs and weaves around me. I’m pretty sure it’s the feline version of an apology or maybe a thank you.

Then she heads to the window, surveying the streets below. She looks so majestic, sitting there, fur silky and fluffy as she monitors her domain. I snap a picture of her with my phone and shoot it to Sarah and Kirby.

My phone dings back at me with a flurry of texts. A smile curls across my face. “Do you have a human?”

She tilts her head, those big green eyes wide.

I scratch under her chin. “You don’t, huh?”

She gives a small meow as though in confirmation.

A chuckle escapes me. “Well, then.” I scoop her up swiftly and hold her close.

She’s mine.

One vet visit to check for a microchip, twenty-five apartment door knocks, and a pet store shopping spree later, it’s official.

She’s really, truly mine.

She perches in front of the window, limbs sprawled out comfortably.

While my own items have remained more or less contained in my two suitcases over the last few weeks, she’s taken over in less than a day.

Her new cat bed lies next to the sofa. Her toys—small balls and bright springs—dot the floor of the apartment.

A tall cat tree extends towards the ceiling by the window.

When I head into the kitchen to snag a blood bag, I trip over the scratching post squeezed near the TV.

I sigh. This isn’t going to work long term.

Between my suitcases and all the new cat items, the apartment’s bursting at the seams. She pads over to me and weaves between my legs, and I have to skip a step to avoid the water bowl we set up in the kitchen.

Correction, this isn’t even working short term.

Blood bag in hand, I tiptoe my way back to the couch and grab my phone, hand snaking through my hair.

A quick browse through apartment listings tells me I’m decidedly not in a financial position to put a deposit on a new place right now.

I’ll need at least another month of savings.

And the thought of returning to the apartment I shared with Luka fills me with dread.

Which means my only other option is…I shoot off a text.

Regret fills me almost instantly. He’s going to say no. It’s too big of an ask. Too weird of an ask.

Dots dance across my phone screen. He’s typing. The motion stops.

My phone vibrates. I pick up the call.

“We need to name her.” Asher’s voice sounds steadier, better than last night, but still thick with sleep. My brain pieces together what he’s saying, filling in the blanks he’s left unsaid.

“So you can take her? Just until I find a more permanent place.”

“Yup, just got off the phone with my landlord and I’m good to go. I’ll need a few days to get some paperwork over to her.”

The knot in my chest loosens. “Thank you.”

“I do, however, demand naming privileges. And pictures, you haven’t sent pictures.”

“You can’t name my cat.”

“I want to help name your cat. Have you picked something already?”

“No.”

“So let me help. Please.” He stretches the plea out like a kid in a candy store, and I can’t help but smile.

I reach out and scratch under her chin, only to earn a soft nip to my finger. “She just took a nibble.”

Asher chuckles. “Looks like we got another vampire on our hands. Elena? Katherine? We could call her Kat for short.”

“We can’t name a cat Katherine. Kat the cat? Besides, she’s too sweet to be Katherine.” My mind hooks on that word…sweet.

She is the sweetest girl. And her brown fur reminds me of my mother’s favorite chocolates.

“Not vampire themed…but what about Praline?”

The rightness of it sinks in as I pose the question. The name suits her.

Asher hums. “Praline. I like it.”

I stretch out my hand and stroke her silky fur. “Are you a Praline?”

She lets out a soft mew. It’s approved then.

Praline rises onto her legs, arching her back.

“Good stretch,” I coo. I’m completely obsessed.

She walks a few paces across my legs then parks herself sprawled out across my chest. My hands clutch her to me, vibrating with the soft purrs emanating from her chest.

I love her. Already.

She stole my heart in less than twenty-four hours. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing to give your heart away after all.