Spell Cat by Tara Lain Page 0,27

not take orders from me.”

“This fucking cat bit me… hard!”

Okay, he was more or less straight up. Killian felt something running down his back and guessed it was blood. “You don’t seem to understand how fortunate you are to be alive. Aloysius or I could have killed you with a thought. Still can.”

Moran’s eyes widened. “You knew what I wanted.”

“No, sadly, I fooled myself into thinking that you actually cared for me, despite your sexual proclivities. But, in truth, you’ve been purposefully deceiving me, haven’t you, Moran?”

The witch looked at Al with wide eyes. Yes, keep guessing, asshole. Al still might kill you. Moran glanced up at Killian; then his eyes shot away. “Of course not.”

“You wanted me to believe you cared for me so you could subjugate me. That would be a big feather in your cap. To have the Witch Master on a leash.”

“I do care for you.” He gasped when Aloysius’s tail twitched.

“No lover would ever treat his beloved in this way. Even if you wanted a submissive, a true lover would have trained me slowly and with care. This was cruelty and vanity and ego from a cruel, vain, self-centered witch.”

Moran closed his eyes and turned his head away from Killian. Was that supposed to be a show of remorse? If so, the show part was true.

Killian shook his head. He felt like a snow globe with the flakes settling. His perceptions were working fine. Why had Moran been able to fool him for three days?

Gods, it hurt. Killian tried to put on his shirt but couldn’t manage the movement without pain. He looked at the cat, who still focused on Moran’s slightest twitch. This was embarrassing. Al had tried to tell him. But any cat in a storm…. “Al, will you help me, please?”

Aloysius looked up. Moran must have twitched then, because Al turned back and hissed. Moran covered his face with his hands. All silky muscle, Al swiped a clawed paw across Moran’s chest, drawing blood, then flicked his tail and jumped the distance to the couch.

It was a shame witches couldn’t heal themselves. Even very powerful witches. That was why witches could get injured or die if they were hurt while alone. But they could heal one another, though not of all ailments.

Al walked around to Killian’s back and began to lick. Soothing. Odd—the rough tongue should have hurt, but it felt comforting. Warmth flowed through him. Like caring. He raised his arms slowly. He was able to move enough to lift the shirt over his shoulders. “Thank you, Al. Let’s finish later. I want out of here.”

Moran had turned back toward Killian but hadn’t tried to get up. “What about me? I’m bleeding.”

Aloysius hissed again, and Moran scooted a couple inches away.

“I’m sure bandages and a bit of alcohol will suffice. He didn’t rip your throat out. I suggest, however, that you leave North America, Moran, because if I hear of you pulling such a stunt on someone else, I’ll see that Aloysius is not so forgiving next time.” Good exit line, if he could keep from groaning.

The coat dragged on his skin like an iron vest, but Al around his neck felt just right. Together they left the hotel room and the phony lover behind.

Chapter Nine

Jimmy listened to the ringing in his ear for the fifth time this morning. Damn, where was the professor? Why didn’t he answer his phone? He hung up and threw the phone on his bed beside him. Who in the hell could he talk to? Couldn’t tell his parents. They were such worriers. Even now. He was a grown man, and they still wanted to know how things were going at school, if he had good friends. Bingo. Friend. Should he? How would he start, even?

He stood up and paced a couple of steps to the limit of his bedroom. He had to talk to somebody. The knowledge was killing him. Were there doctors for this kind of problem? Shit. Sammy knew everything.

He flopped on the bed again, grabbed the phone, and dialed.

“Hey, my man, I was just thinking of you.” Good old Sammy! Yes!

“Hey, bro. Uh, I have something I need to talk about, and I think I should do it in person. Any chance you could come over?”

“Yeah. I guess so. I’m doing some homework for Barth’s class. Is it important?”

“Yeah. Maybe I can help with the homework.”

Sammy paused for a second. Jimmy let him think. Sammy was a ponderer.

“Okay, be right over.”

“Thanks, bro.