He tries to hold his breath the entire drive back, but then she had woken up and mewled at him, the sound going straight to his cock and fuck- there's something fucking wrong with him. She sounds lovely, sweet and pliant and a little bit scared and he wants to let her go. He wants to stop the car and pull her into his lap, pet her until she's sweet and submissive and- Fuck.
He growls at her and tells her to shut up. She curls up, terrified out of her skin.
It's terrible. Everything is terrible. He would put her up with a pet-sitter but the old man had probably gone insane because this little kitten is worth so much money it's enough to scare his lawyers. He had to hire more and he's suppose it's about time to hire better men.
The first time she scratches him, he's upset because he wanted to let her out. He wants to touch her without having her look so damn terrified of him. She's a lovely little thing, white fur puffed up to make herself look bigger even though she's really very tiny.
He really hopes she'll warm up to him. He leaves her in the kitchen and opens a can of tuna for her, hoping that
would keep her full until he can get proper food for her. And then, he stays close and just breathes, letting the air fill with her scent and considering an appointment with a therapist because he shouldn't be feeling so peaceful just because his dead father left him a cat.
No matter how pretty the cat is.
His father left him a long letter too. It's apparently important the he read it, but Shadow has always been stubborn. He hadn't talked to the old man for a long time and if he was being honest with himself, he feels a little bit of guilt over it. He should have spent more time with the old man. Maybe visited him a little more. But he couldn't have visited even if he wanted to. For some reason, his father stopped letting any of his children or grandchildren visit a few years ago.
He glances at the kitten in the kitchen suspiciously. Surely it can't just be to hide the cat?
...
He's a fucking moron. He should have known something was wrong when his wolf smelled her and wanted her the first time he saw her. Alpha werewolves like him are very rarely alone and it is even rarely for them to be without mates.
He should have at least made sure she's comfortable. Instead, he had been so busy wallowing in his own guilt and self-pity that he kept a human girl locked up inside a cat cage for days.
She's human. Well, half-human. Mostly-human. She looks human enough and she seems to understand exactly what's happened.
She doesn't seem to be very upset about being locked up. The fearful gazes she sends his way is completely deserved, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. She's really very beautiful, all soft curves and pale skin, fluffy cat tail curled around her body protectively.
Her arms are completely normal, though her wrists are furred and there are claws at the tips of her fingers instead of fingernails. She has her claws out now, absentmindedly tearing into his couch. He would normally be more upset about ruined furniture. After all, everything in this home was picked out meticulously. It's his nest. He's comfortable here.
For some reason, he doesn't mind having her here, having her scent fill up his home and permeate the air. Melissa is fine too, but only because he grew up with her and knows she's not here to challenge him.
He breathes in deep and fills his lungs with the kitten's scent. She smells addictive, but also like grief and anxiety and a little bit like tuna because he's a fucking moron.
He feels utterly disgusted with himself. His hands tighten into fists. It all makes sense, suddenly. Why his father had suddenly turned into a recluse. He was hiding her. His father is a proud man. He would never admit the truth that he can no longer keep her safe. He's too old and towards the end, he was getting a little senile. His brain no longer works the way he wants it to and if he doesn't ban everyone from entering his home, he knows his grandchildren would swarm in and demand possession of her once he dies. The only sure way to keep her from being taken away is by keeping himself, his condition, and her hidden form the rest of the world.
They don't have to hide her now. He's not going to hide her. It's no way for someone to live. Already, he feels the urge to shelter her and giver her everything she's ever wanted in her life.
She looks young- too young. His wolf doesn't care. He wants to rubs his nose between her legs and lick her up, taste her cunt and see if she's ready be bred, ready to carry his pups. She is lovely, but he is certain that she would look even lovelier when she's all filled up, belly round with his come and carrying his pups. Her small breasts would fill up and he could suckle from them, get her ready for their pups.
Her cheeks pink and he's suddenly very aware of the sweet scent flooding the room. He's not sure if he just hasn't noticed it before or if something had triggered its release, but his cock stirs back to life as he thinks of all the things he has yet to do with her.
She climbs towards him on her hands and knees, looking like sin reincarnate. Her eyes are devastatingly beautiful, as is everything else about her. It's almost unfair. Her tail sways behind her lazily. It's almost as long as her body and is so thick with fur that it's as thick as her waist.
He is distracted by her small waist and how lovely her hips look when she's crawling towards him like this, moving from side to side. Her impossibly soft cat ears brush against his fingers and he jerks in shock. He asks Melissa what to do and his old caretaker tells him to just do what she wants.
What she wants is to have him pet her head like she's a kitten seeking affection. Maybe that's exactly what she needs. After all, she had been locked up in a cage for the past several days. Fuck. He's a fucking asshole. He runs his fingers over her head. Her hair and fur are incredibly soft. It feels like rubbing his hands on the softest stuffed animal.
Her scent goes from content to despair so abruptly that he doesn't know what to do about it at first, and then he's on his knees and holding her close. She sniffles and says something about being buried together with his father and his heart all but shatters. The poor, poor thing. He's going to take care of her now. He keeps her pinned with his body so he can rub his hands over her in a slow, calming fashion.
"It's alright," he murmurs, pressing kisses over her face, licking away her tears. "It's alright. I'm here now." And he never intends to let her go.
...
Living with her is torture of the most exquisite kind. He wants to mark her all the time. Every time he looks at her with those doe-eyes and perfect red lips, he can't resist the urge to lick up her mouth, leave his scent on her.
And then he makes the mistake of trusting the building security to keep her safe. He's lucky he has an alarm app installed on his phone that was triggered the moment someone entered his apartment, even luckier that he had gotten there in time.
His heart had rushed to his throat at the sight of her at first, blood around her neck, body prone in the floor and her heartbeat so faint that he was worried she wasn't breathing at all. Turned out the asshole was just so stupid that he put his weight on her lungs and she couldn't inhale.