Hunting Kat by P.J. Schnyder

and in his neck tensed, hardened. He didn’t simply pull away, light years of distance opened up between them.
    He waved the comp at her. “You had a background check run on me?”
    She shook her head, hair tumbling loose around her shoulders. “A friend sent it to me with the jammer. He must have thought I should know.”
    “Doubt it. You must have had a great time bagging this stud.”
    “Look.” Not sure the background check rated this much anger, she watched him warily. “I don’t do this either.”
    “Oh, c’mon. A merc, looking the way you do? A ‘friend’ sends you packages by personal messenger with a background check on your guy for the night? You’ve obviously got your choice of ‘friends.’ Maybe I’m just the new flavor.”
    She almost laughed in his face. “What is your malfunction?”
    Suspicious because Boggle sent her a package. Seriously?
    That look crossed Rygard’s face again, open and bleeding. “A sweet face like yours, too innocent to believe. You’re the perfect trap.” Then the expression hardened. “I got news for you, I don’t have the cred to make this worth your while, and with your performance, I wouldn’t pay for a repeat.”
    The bolt of pain piercing her chest caught her by surprise. He made her feel cheap, something less. The memory of a collar sat around her neck, a phantom weight. She dropped her gaze to the bedsheets, giving way to another being’s dominance for the first time since her mutation. Not even rape had broken her the way his words had. Fumbling for her duffel at the side of the bed, she yanked a silken sleep shirt over her head, unable to bear the exposure any longer.
    “Maybe I should send one of the other guys from the bar to keep you company for the rest of the night.”
    Jackass.
    She opened her mouth to retort.
    The entryway exploded. Literally.
    Anything she would have said blanked as she dove for her weapons harness. Rygard beat her to it, tossing it to her as he grabbed his own. Not bothering to put his on, he freed his gun and crouched ready to fire, his body firmly between her and whatever would come through the door.
    “Murderer.” A deep voice, not human, snarled through the smoke. A tail lashed into view and withdrew, the owner using the wall as cover. The scent of felines billowed into the room.
    A heartbeat passed, then two.
    “I haven’t killed anybody in at least three months.” Kaitlyn freed every blade she had, laying them within easy reach on the bed and floor, keeping her big combat knife beside her. “You?”
    Rygard’s silence was eloquent.
    “So we’re guessing they’re here for you, then.” Fantastic. She’d have to remember to look over Boggle’s intel a little closer.
    “They?” Rygard grunted as he used one hand to yank down the dresser unit for cover. He couldn’t pick apart the different scents entering the room.
    As far as she was concerned, he’d have to take her word for it because there wasn’t time to explain. “Three, incoming.”
    A strange huffing cough issued from around the corner. It wasn’t because of the clearing smoke. Only jaguars made the sound, confirming her read of what headed toward them. This wouldn’t be a conventional fight.
    She grabbed her combat knife and took the handle in her teeth. She’d need it.
    “Down.” The word came clear through her clenched teeth, her voice dropping deep, already changing. Rygard responded, turning to put his back to the dresser. His eyes widened.
    She shifted.
    One second stretched into an eternity as every nerve in her body blazed. Her body reabsorbed bones and reformed them, muscle tissue twisting and reshaping, tendons detaching and reattaching in new configurations. Her face stretched forward into a muzzle, jaw dislocating and lengthening to make room for fangs. Her hands curled in agony, becoming paws with razor-sharp claws. What had taken weeks of agony the first time the virus mutated her now lasted a mere second as she forced her shift