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“Why?”
“Because he says more than a few clipped words per month.” I smile at Ava. “I’m going to get something to drink. Want to come?”
“Sure.” She interlinks her arm with mine, and once we’re walking away, she whispers in my ear, “That was such a low blow. He’s glaring.”
I glance behind me, and sure enough, Creighton’s cold gaze follows my movements, his jaw set, his wicked lips thinned in a line and his arms taut.
I can’t help feeling a sense of apprehension or the lash of his anger that rolls over my skin.
It’s not like I did anything wrong. I only gave him a taste of his own medicine.
Still, I cut off eye contact first, willingly losing the battle.
Something tells me I poked the monster in his cave and he might come after me.
6
ANNIKA
Two small pointy ears, baby whiskers, and a pink nose are the definition of my weakness.
I hold up the tiny striped cat in my hand and pet his head. He rubs himself against my hand and a fuzzy feeling shoots down to the marrow of my bones.
He releases a soft mewl, a cry for affection, and my heart bleeds. “I’m so sorry you lost your mommy, Tiger. I promise to take care of you until you start to wreak havoc around here.”
I found him a few days ago on the side of the road in a box with three other kittens. The pouring rain and probably hunger killed all of them except for this tiny fighter. I hid him in my pocket and brought him to the animal shelter where I volunteer.
Dr. Stephanie was surprised Tiger didn’t meet his siblings’ tragic fate, but I was sure the little baby would survive.
“You’re a fighter, aren’t you?” I speak to him in a child’s voice, trying not to cry at the reminder of what happened to the other kittens.
I did cry at that time. They were so small and helpless and without a mother. I’m commissioning a voodoo doll to curse the heartless monster who threw them to the side of the road.
In the meantime, I’m pledging to protect this baby with my life. Every day, I come to help Dr. Stephanie with all the stray animals we get in the shelter, and when it’s my break time, I play with Tiger.
Cecily volunteers with me—she’s all for humanitarian activities—but she usually comes later, while I have to leave early or else guards would swamp this place.
But oh well, I can just talk to the animals. They’re better friends than people anyway and I’d cut any bitch who tries to hurt them.
I place baby Tiger on my thigh and he tugs on my dress with his claws in his attempt to climb up. “I specifically wore cotton, you little fashion terrorist, so you won’t be able to ruin it like you did the other dress.”
“Are you talking to a hamster?”
My head whips up and I cease breathing.
The last person I expected to see at the shelter is standing in the doorway, or more like blocking it.
For a moment, I think maybe I’m imagining things, like that cryptic dream I had last night in which he glared at me and then disappeared.
Considering how things went down yesterday, I expected Creighton to come after me again—there was just something strange in his gaze, something absolutely nefarious—but I didn’t think it’d be this soon.
“It’s not a hamster, it’s a cat, and his name is Tiger.” I clear my throat. “What are you doing here?”
“Volunteering.”
“Why?”
“Cecily asked me to.”
