He made no move toward the cat, knowing it would be suicidal. He needed to lure her to him. “All of you step back,” he told the others. “I need plenty of space around me or she’s not likely to approach.” As the others backed away, Dominic crouched onto his haunches and tapped the floor. “Come on over here.”
Fangs bared, the cat let out a doglike bark. It was a definite “fuck you.”
“I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be, but I just want to check your wounds,” he said, relying on Mila to communicate what he wanted to the feline, since the animal wouldn’t understand his words.
The cat kept on glaring at him, thumping the floor with her dark-ringed, black-tipped bushy tail. Yeah, apparently, she was totally unmoved.
“She’s your prize, I get it. I don’t want it. I just want to make sure you’re fine.” Dominic lay on his side, hoping the relaxed pose might reassure her somehow. “Mila, help me calm your cat. The jackal’s going to wake soon. If you want to talk to her, you need to be back in your human form.”
The cat cocked her head and chuffed, and he got the feeling she was communicating with Mila.
He tapped the floor again with his fingertips. “Come on, come over here,” he softly coaxed. “I won’t hurt you. You’d scratch out my eyes if I did anyway, right? Come on. Let me make sure you’re okay. Ally can heal those wounds, and the pain will vanish like magic. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Again, she just stared at him, but her tail was no longer thumping the floor.
“Maybe I’m messed up, but even though you’re covered in blood, I think you’re way too cute right now.”
The cat’s eyes narrowed, and her face scrunched up into the crankiest expression he’d ever seen. The rage was gone. In its place was utter exasperation. Apparently, Mila had interpreted his compliment to her and the cat merely found it pathetic.
After one last warning hiss at the still-unconscious jackal, the cat regally padded her way to Dominic, annoyance in every step. With all that fur, she shouldn’t look so graceful, but she did.
“Good girl.” Keeping his touch light, he stroked her thick, lush coat as he whispered nonsense to her. Surprisingly soft, her rich gray fur had white tips, as if dusted with frost.
Not doubting for a single second that she’d tear a strip off his face if he made any wrong moves, Dominic kept his touch as gentle as his voice. Her eyes drifted shut as he scratched behind one of her small tufty ears. The cream fur inside them matched the patches on her chin, throat, and underparts.
Purring, she looked up at him through round eyes that were accentuated by the concentric white and black rims surrounding them. The storm had left her gaze.
“Come back, Mila,” he whispered.
The cat rumbled a put-out sound. Bones snapped and popped as she shifted. And then Mila was crouched in front of him, panting.
She sighed. “Well, GQ, you somehow charmed my very antisocial cat. It’s official. You have special powers.”
Sitting upright, Dominic caught her nape and gave her a quick kiss before she could get to her feet. “She charmed me right back.” As Harley stepped forward, holding Mila’s clothes, Dominic snatched the jacket and wrapped it around Mila. Yeah, shifters were used to nakedness and Jesse was happily mated, but Dominic still didn’t want the other male to get a look at her body. He frowned at the wounds on her face. “That bitch got you good right above your eye.”
Ally approached. “I can fix that.”
Mila stood, grinding her teeth against the pain as her movements pulled on her many rake wounds. She held still as Ally very simply laid a hand on her cheek. Healing warmth radiated through Mila, thick and soothing, and chased away the pain. When the Seer lowered her hand, Mila blew out a breath. “Thanks.”
“How are you feeling?” asked Harley, passing Mila the rest of her clothes.
“Fine, albeit pissed with that bitch on the floor.”
“There’s no ID on her,” said Jesse, bending over the body.
“Watch her for me while I just go wash and dress,” Mila said to no one in particular. In the small attached bathroom, she quickly showered and then pulled on her underwear, tank top, and jeans. When she walked back into the greenroom with her jacket in hand, she saw that the jackal—her clothes and face bloody and shredded—was wide