a hand, I punched it into my palm and squatted, preparing to catch whatever roared my way.
The cat paused, twenty feet from me, huffing from the exertion of her berserker rage, a miniature bull facing the matador, green eyes narrowed and fixed to mine. A growl rumbled in the feline’s throat.
And she charged.
Bracing for impact, I instinctually placed a hand before my crotch, and another up before my head. Pin-sharp claws dug through the leather at my thigh, drawing blood. I yowled and stumbled back, landing with my spine against the sofa.
Small, black and angry stalked along my legs and over my hip. Each step was slow and calculated, allowing claws to sink in, marking me as if a perforation were required to then zip me apart.
“Easy, kitty,” I cooed as the creature settled to a squat on my chest. A tuft of white fur starred her chest. Beelzebub’s mistress had never looked more ferocious. And I had once met that catastrophe of a broad. “I just want to talk.”
The back-alley scrapper’s fey weight increased. I hissed and gritted my teeth when the claws tore my skin as they retracted into bone and flesh. Fur receded into skin. Bones lengthened and reshaped into human form. A crop of lustrous midnight hair spilled over a slender human face, framing a narrow jaw and fashion-model cheekbones.
A woman’s green eyes stared at me with the same pissed-off kitty accusation. She lay upon me, naked, and fully shifted to human shape.
Letting out a held breath, I said, “I have a business proposition for you.”
As a feline, I stretch often and well, but shifting to human shape provided my muscles the ultimate stretch. I came to, long black hair spilling over my shoulders and tumbling before my chest. My lengthening muscles felt like a massage across my shoulders and hips. My breasts grew to small globes. The claws were the last to retract, and one popped from the leather gloves the man wore as a feeble means of protection.
Had to hand it to the guy, he hadn’t gone into this whole kidnapping business without forethought. On the other hand, he had trapped me in a cage, carried me away from my neighborhood, and now I was locked in his home.
Kneeling and then standing over the sprawled man, I studied his defiant stare. He thought he had me under his thumb. The cocky smirk gave him away. Stupid witch.
I presumed that’s what he was. Who else would steal a kitty from her nightly prowl and not freak out when she shifted?
My profession required I work for witches, but that didn’t mean I had to like them. Or put up with this nonsense.
“Talk,” I said as he cautiously rose to stand, one shredded-leather-gloved hand held between us to placate. I wasn’t going to jump him, but he’d better beware my bite. “I’ll have you know, I’m not a happy kitty right now, and if you don’t have something interesting to say, I’m going to knock over more than an ugly vase.”
“Sorry.” He leaned toward the sofa and grabbed a red blanket from it and held it out for me. “I forgot clothes,” he offered in a husky voice that was soft yet so deep it strummed something inside me. Made my belly warm. Weird.
I snatched the blanket and wrapped it around my torso. I liked to knead soft things, and this one was woven from chenille. Oh, heaven… It felt luxurious beneath my stroking fingers.
But I couldn’t get distracted.
Nor would I allow myself to linger over the man’s appearance. He wasn’t your standard spell-throwing witch. At least not to judge by the ones I’d worked with during this, my third life. Male witches were usually skinny, bespectacled and, truthfully, ugly.
But this one? He had muscles. Everywhere. And he wore them well, as if designed to make heads turn. He bled at shoulder, chest and wrist, but he didn’t seem to notice. Points for me.
Long dark hair spilled straight and full around his head and his eyes glittered an unnatural blue. He wore his beard trimmed thin along his jaw and up around to frame his mouth, which gave him a broody appeal. I bet his mouth tasted as good as it looked. If I were to kiss him….
But, like I said, I wasn’t going to let a handsome figure distract me. Besides, who’d mentioned kisses? Kisses were overrated. Kisses were deal-breakers.
“Why’d you steal me from a perfectly good hunt and bring me here?” I spat out.
Hands on hips, I scented the man’s sweetly dark allure. Smelled like a spice I’d once noted in a bowl the cheese-shop owner kept on his counter.
Not attractive, not attractive.
“Don’t tell me this is how you go about hiring a girl for work. All witches know that if you need a demon conduit you have to arrange an appointment with their assistant.”
“I do need a demon conduit,” he said. “A familiar.”
He paced around me, taking me in, so I tilted back my bare shoulders. Let him look. I think I make a pretty hot human. Men always follow me with their hungry eyes. Such looks make me feel good. But this man hadn’t stroked me right yet, and I didn’t expect he’d learn. Not with his less-than-courteous record.
“I’d give you my assistant’s contact info, but—” I glanced toward the cage. “—I’ve decided not to like you,” I said, “so I won’t bother.”
“I don’t want to go through your assistant.” The shadows in the ill-lit room darkened his eyes, and I wanted to move closer to see if the pinpricks of light in his pupils were fallen stars. “In fact, I went directly to the source tonight because I need to do this without an assistant.”
I let out a chirp of laughter. “You’re drunk then, eh?”
“I’m perfectly sober. I cannot abide alcohol.”
He stepped closer to me and smiled to reveal beautiful white teeth, and now his alluring scent tickled my nose. I tried to decide how it made me feel. Curious? A little. Hungry? No. Hmm….
“I want to cut out the middleman,” he said. “Just you and me. And demon makes three.”
“So what you’re saying is you want to have sex with me and summon the demon at the same time? In place of my assistant, who would normally get me off, while you wait to conjure?”
He nodded. “I want to streamline the process. Make the connection stronger. Summon a really big demon.”
He sounded dead serious. And I finally decided how he smelled—lickable.
Don’t lose your focus, Star. Drag your nails across his face, and make your escape.
“You insult me,” I said. “I never allow clients to touch me. It’s just not done.”
“It would be strictly business.”
I lifted my chin, haughty in my refusal.
“I’ll pay.”
“Of course you would. I don’t conduct demons to the mortal realm for free.” Nor would I ever work without my assistant. But how to refuse an offer when I hadn’t worked in months? My purse had become a cavernous
