Page 5 of Axel

Solemnly, he nods, and it’s odd; whenever the subject of my first queen comes up, Sire seethes like he feels my pain for me.

“In the meantime,” I tell him, “take this to Wren. She can mother some kittens.”

I lift the cat with my hands wedged under her forelegs, and Sire reaches to take her, but she hisses, her back claws swiping and scratching his inked hands.

“Alright. Alright.” Gently, he shoves the animal back to me. “She’s your pussy, not mine.”

“What the fuck am I going to do with a pregnant cat?”

“You still remember your way around pussies. Right?” The fucker smirks. “Figure it out.”

“Fuck you.”

I leave Sire laughing as he drives away, and I struggle with my arms full with an expectant animal I have no clue what to do with.

Once inside my home, with its dark wooden beams braced under historic, white plaster ceilings and creaking wide pine floors below, I aim upstairs to my bedroom.

“Here.” I set the cat on the foot of my bed, snarling, “Don’t have those fucking kittens on my white Frette linens.” She purrs, staring up at me. “I’ll get you a goddamn litter box by the end of the day.” Lazily, she circles a spot. “And I swear to God … if you sink your little claws intomyduvet, I’ll put you under the neighbor’s porch.”

Yes, I like fine linens and fashion. I was raised in an opulent Russian prison of a home until I was eleven. Then, we used my mother’s jewels and tenacity to rebuild our life here, and now, I spare no expense.

We give the money back to the victims we help and donate most of the rest, but we skim a little off the top for our services. You know, for operating expenses.

Suspiciously, I eye the cat as she curls into a golden fur ball at the foot of my bed, and I strip down, warning, “Don’t piss on my stuff. Deal?”

She closes her eyes.

“Hey!” She opens them. “Sparky, did you hear me?”

Yep, that’s her name, and she doesn’t listen. She wedges her nose under her foreleg likeShut up, asshole, and turn off the lightswhile I wait for the sun to rise.

It’s a little warm to zip on a grey hoodie with my black running shorts, but I like to sweat. Watching the time pass on my phone, I do my research on pregnant cats, then a nearby vet.

I’m not keeping this damn thing. She’ll have a new home by Monday.

At six twenty-three, my daily alarm goes off.

It’s stalking time.

With a final warning to Sparky not to fuck up my shit, I lock my door then gate, and aim toward my waiting placeblocks away. It’s behind a large oak in the park by the battery wall, braced against the wide river to the Atlantic beyond. Shadows cloak my presence while runners and folks walking their dogs emerge, dotting the sidewalks.

Then, exactly where my stare is aimed at the fountain in Waterfront Park, Ruby appears.

Every time, she rips my breath away.

Every time, my heart pounds.

Every time, my cock awakens.

Was it lust at first sight with Ruby? Guilty. Was it love, too? I plead the fifth.

She thought I was interviewing her for a job as my paralegal, while I knew I was talking to my future wife.

A person knows when they meet their equal.

And a real man knows when she’s his soulmate, too.

God, she was beautiful.

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