Page 7 of Kitty Cat

Until now, Rygan had assumed that the wolves were hunting them on principle; his status meant that beating his pride would give any wolf an extra dose of street cred. But what they’d seen in Hsu’s vision? Attacking kids and submissives? Feline or wolf, there was no honor in it.

Rygan needed to work out their enemy’s motivation, and find a way to really get them off their backs, before it was too late.

“Let’s get the kids settled - only unload the essentials, we’ll be leaving as soon as possible. Once that’s done, we need to call our contacts and get to the bottom of things. The way we’re getting hunted is personal. Time to find out why.”

Family

Catching a familiar scent, Ace lifted her head, and called Clary from the back of her small bakery.

“Hey sweet. Do you mind taking over at the counter? It’s pretty quiet.”

Clarissa had been her assistant since she’d come back from college, six months prior, although she had an MBA, there weren’t a ton of exciting jobs in Lakesides.

In many a place, some would have frowned at a human working in a bakery owned by a shifter, but Ace had struck gold with this town.

It wasn’t that the people of Lakesideslikedshifters - they were human, so most of them didn’t, understandably finding them scary as fuck - but before her, they’d dealt with a guy who pillaged, raped, and murdered, so they’d learned to appreciate her perhaps overly sarcastic, but otherwise charming self.

Well, maybe notcharming,but she didn’t have murderous tendencies most of the time.

The townspeople had reportedthe pack terrorizing them, but human authorities couldn’t do much - they just told the shifter council, who’d demanded that the wolves fixed the issue. Only, wolves weren’t organized the way feline shifters were.

Felines had a leader, a governing body, so to speak. They may not be officially recognized in the US, but they called their leader their King, and he was just that. If someone went out of line, they had the authorities in place to take care of it - so no feline messed up.

Wolves had a Head Pack, and when it wanted to act, it was lethal. However, that pack only moved its finger when someone directly threatenedthem.The rest, they shrugged off, putting it on their To Do list for a decade or two. Aisling was sure that eventually, they would have come to take care of the issue, but they left it for over a year.

Aisling pitied their race. Not all of them were bad; in fact, most wolves weren’t, but their authority was so corrupted, they couldn’t do a thing about their reputation. That was the reason why there were more loner wolves than any other kind of shifter out there; in general, those who’d left their pack had a damn good reason to have chosen that lifestyle. Aisling’s cat suffered from the isolation, but not nearly as much as a wolf ever would. Their species, like their animal counterpart, was really meant to live in groups.

It was a wolf who’d told her about Lakesides; her friend, Vivicia, had just mentioned it in passing, unknowingly planting a seed. Ace had lived in Los Angeles, and damn if the city of Angels wasn’t all about drama. Although they paid well, she’d been tired of having to deal with the angel, nephilim, and demon issues there. She’d been ready to find somewhere to settle down at the time, and somewhere so isolated a pack could get away with murder - literally - was her idea of perfection, so she’d turned up in town, to see it for herself. People had been pretty mistrusting, but after a couple of pints at the local bar, they’d felt protective enough to tell her to pack her things and go before the Alpha wolf living near heard of her being there.

They’d really feared the man, that much had been obvious. Ace wasn’t sure whether she would have chosen to stay - after living in the city for seven years, Lakesides had seemed awfully small - but the day after she’d arrived, the stupid-ass Alpha had showed his face at her hotel, demandingfavorsfor letting her live.

Yeah, that had gone down well. She slit his throat and cut his balls off.

The humans had been grateful at first, but wary, with good reasons; as she could so easily dispose of a man so huge, dominant, and subdue his entire pack with her vibes, they’d wondered if they’d been thrown out of the pan and right into the fire. So, she kept a low profile, turned up on game day to watch football at the pub. Bored out of her mind, she bought an empty store and did it up. She didn’t exactly have athing,a passion, like some did. She loved reading, running, knitting, swimming, and if she was entirely honest with herself, she kind of liked fighting too. But while nothing made her feel excited, there was one activity that soothed her mind, making her reach that special place- home.

Baking.

A long, long time ago, a sweet female shifter who always hummed, or sang, had popped her on top of the kitchen countertop as she rolled dough; later, she got her to help. Baking was home. Every time she smelled apple pies cooking in her stove, she remembered the little piece of happiness the woman had carved for her.

So, she opened a bakery. She wasn’t classically trained, but apparently, her things were good enough for the people of Lakesides. Ace was certain that what had nailed the deal had been her cupcakes. Which, by the way, were pretty awesome.

Three years later, it was the mayor who’d approached Ace, asking if she could use an employee when Clarissa had come back to town. Ace, who was pulling fifteen hour shifts between baking, serving customers and delivering orders, jumped on it and hadn’t had any reasons to regret it since.

“Sure, take as much time as you need,” the ever enthusiastic, ever smiling woman replied.

She thanked her and headed to her kitchen, following her nose.

Suddenly, a hand closed over her lips and a pair of strong arms pulled her in a dark corner of her shop. A smile playing on her lips. In other circumstances, she might already have drop kicked her attacker. As soon as they were locked in a cupboard, her kidnapper’s arms went around her waist, engulfing her in a bear hug. She let him.

Ace wasn’t touchy-feely but she was a shifter - acatshifter. That kind of contact was a balm to her soul when it came from the right person. Daunte Cross was one of the few people whose touch she accepted.

He chuckled, his annoyingly huge chest moving against her cheek. As much as she’d like to pretend otherwise, he was all man now.

“Hey sis,” he whispered.

He liked to call her that in private; because she didn’t let him say it in public. Not anymore. She’d shed the name Cross and all its meaning long ago.

She pushed his chest back and glared up - and up, and up. The boy was tall, damn him.

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