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My gaze lifted to Croygen’s, both of us breathing hard, our eyes locking. It was only a moment, a flash, when the entire world could have stopped. Fire burned in his eyes, an emotion I couldn’t name, but something stirred deep in my soul, a power overtaking me, not letting me think, only feeling the something between us, the lifelines on our palms weaving together in an unseen web.
“Chuqù!” Get out!The bartender yelled, his arms flurrying around, breaking us away from each other, snapping reality back into place. My attention drifted over the disaster the pub was in, the five unconscious bodies lying on the floor, the owner’s voice pitching in the background.
Croygen sucked in sharply, looking at his wound, his brow furrowing, blood glistening his shirt.
I moved to him, my hand pulling his away to examine the deep slice in his side.
“Just a scratch,” he grunted.
“Get out! Get out!” The bartender shooed us to the exit. “Do. Not. Come. Back!”
“Well, that was fun.” He winked at me.
“Shut up.” Glaring at him, I put my shoulder under his other arm, helping him get out the door and stepping into the torrential downpour as lightning cracked overhead.
I sighed. There was no way we could get back to the ship tonight.
“I know of a place we can go.”
“No,” I snapped. “I’m not going to any of your many fuck buddies’ houses.”
He opened his mouth.
“Or a whorehouse.”
“Sucking out all the fun, Kitty-Kat.”
“I’m gonna leave you here to bleed to death.”
Croygen smirked cheekily, only fueling my irritation.
“Come on.” I yanked him a little harder than needed, forcing a yip from him. The pregnant raindrops splashed down on us, soaking us completely as I took him to the only place I could think of. A spot I had used before when I ran into problems.
So much for staying out of trouble.
Night was seeping in, darkening the already heavy sky, thunder vibrating the cobbled ground.
Rushing us into a murky alley behind a market, which sold various types of meats—though meat here could mean a lot of things, like rodents and insects—I found the door an average pedestrian would walk right past if they didn’t know it was there. My knuckles rapped the wood, hoping the owner would answer.
Several moments passed before the door squeaked open, yellow eyes glowing from the other side. A petite Asian woman stood behind the door, her expression stern, her body bristling with annoyance.
“Oh.” Her lids narrowed on me. “You.”
Mrs. Yang hadn’t changed a bit in a hundred years.
“No, you go away.” She waved me away. Croygen snorted, my own glare turning to him. “You cause nothing but problems!” She started to close the door.
“Mrs. Yang.” I pushed back on the door, stopping it from closing. “Please. You know I wouldn’t come here if I didn’t have to. I’m under Yeo’s protection.”
Mrs. Yang’s glower could have burned holes through me if she had the power. She was a Pallas cat-shifter—grumpy, secluded, territorial, and didn’t like me very much.
Cats seemed to be neutral when it came to other cat-shifters. They either preferred to be part of a clowder or hated all other cats.
“Please, he’s hurt.” I nodded back to Croygen. “We need a place to stay tonight.”
“Where’s old boyfriend?” she huffed, her curious gaze on Croygen.
“Killian was just a friend, Mrs. Yang.”
