Cats in Heat by Asha King Page B

and more she suspected it was that he wasn’t used to anything else. It took everything in her not to press for more information.
    And if he was getting better, she had to question how much longer he’d stay.
    She rolled onto her side, closing her eyes and willing sleep to hurry up. She didn’t want to think about that, after all. Addie...enjoyed his company, more than she would’ve expected. He was quiet and tidy, spending his hours awake reading books from her living room shelf or helping her around the house. He spoke about general things, but never himself or what he’d come from. She expected within the next few days, she’d wake up one morning and find him gone, disappearing from her life as abruptly as he’d entered.
    Ugh. Stop thinking. Try to sleep.
    But even then, as her consciousness faded, it was his amber eyes playing in her mind that followed her into the darkness.
    Amber eyes that closed, exhausted. A heavy, deep sigh rumbled the air.
    He pulled himself up onto tired legs and heavy paws thumped on the ground as he surged forward, blinking tiredly. Blood was slippery across the basement’s cement floor where it pooled toward the middle, but he ignored the bodies stacked aside, just kept on moving. Cell bars rose on either side of him, looming in his peripheral vision.
    One slip was all it had taken. Just one. Cell didn’t latch right and he’d seemed too weak—they didn’t think anything of it, just left him there to die.
    This would be his only chance.
    The others who were still on top of their game rattled at the bars, shook the cell doors. Shouts roars, hisses. Yellow light wove up to the ceiling in his far right, the spot where magic users were house and bound from doing anything.
    His heart pounded painfully, erratically. Eyes blinked and the world seemed to tilt beneath his paws, but he continued for the far door. It was opening, just a few inches, voices spilling out; they’d do a round, start carting out bodies.
    The metal door creaked open, someone laughed.
    He leapt.
    A surge of adrenaline gave him strength and speed. His claws sliced through throats, cutting the men off mid-cry. He was painted in their blood by the time he was through and then he ran, leaving crimson streaked footprints behind him.
    He heard the voices above—the laughing, glasses striking in toasts, the jeers and cheering. An announcer called out—he couldn’t make out the names but someone new would enter the ring.
    They’d be distracted above.
    He moved through the complex in a blur, keeping to shadows, moving swiftly, cutting through anyone in his way, ignoring each wound that stung with every step. And when he crashed through a window at last, he was certain that was it, but soft ground met him, cushioning his fall. Broken glass scraped at him but he ignored it, pulled himself up, ran again.
    And ran.
    Thunder seemed to shake the ground and trees rattled from the wind. Rain soaked him, cleaning his pelt of blood. Lighting flashed, helping to guide him away from the complex.
    Freedom. All he wanted, all he needed was freedom. His heart ached at the mere thought of it, at the possibility of dying free. He breathed in the cool, damp air, let it fill his lungs.
    They’d pursue, he knew. They’d catch him. Lincoln always caught everyone. His only hope was to die first.
    The world flickered around him, brightening, colorizing. He saw her then. Sanctuary. Safety wrapped around him—
    But something tore through it, a jagged edge knife slicing through her warmth. Her house went dark, she went dark—everything so, so dark, and he knew, he KNEW, somehow he’d led them here and— 
    Erik sat up suddenly, abruptly, backing up in a rush, his hand locking onto the first weapon he came in contact with. His back struck the brick fireplace and his heart hammered as his brain seemed to fully waken.
    Moonlight poured through the windows and lit the living room. Addie was crouched on the floor next to where he’d been sleeping,