Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
It’s not like I did anything wrong. I only gave him a taste of his own medicine.
Still, I cut off eye contact first, willingly losing the battle.
Something tells me I poked the monster in his cave and he might come after me.
6
ANNIKA
Two small pointy ears, baby whiskers, and a pink nose are the definition of my weakness.
I hold up the tiny striped cat in my hand and pet his head. He rubs himself against my hand and a fuzzy feeling shoots down to the marrow of my bones.
He releases a soft mewl, a cry for affection, and my heart bleeds. “I’m so sorry you lost your mommy, Tiger. I promise to take care of you until you start to wreak havoc around here.”
I found him a few days ago on the side of the road in a box with three other kittens. The pouring rain and probably hunger killed all of them except for this tiny fighter. I hid him in my pocket and brought him to the animal shelter where I volunteer.
Dr. Stephanie was surprised Tiger didn’t meet his siblings’ tragic fate, but I was sure the little baby would survive.
“You’re a fighter, aren’t you?” I speak to him in a child’s voice, trying not to cry at the reminder of what happened to the other kittens.
I did cry at that time. They were so small and helpless and without a mother. I’m commissioning a voodoo doll to curse the heartless monster who threw them to the side of the road.
In the meantime, I’m pledging to protect this baby with my life. Every day, I come to help Dr. Stephanie with all the stray animals we get in the shelter, and when it’s my break time, I play with Tiger.
Cecily volunteers with me—she’s all for humanitarian activities—but she usually comes later, while I have to leave early or else guards would swamp this place.
But oh well, I can just talk to the animals. They’re better friends than people anyway and I’d cut any bitch who tries to hurt them.
I place baby Tiger on my thigh and he tugs on my dress with his claws in his attempt to climb up. “I specifically wore cotton, you little fashion terrorist, so you won’t be able to ruin it like you did the other dress.”
“Are you talking to a hamster?”
My head whips up and I cease breathing.
The last person I expected to see at the shelter is standing in the doorway, or more like blocking it.
For a moment, I think maybe I’m imagining things, like that cryptic dream I had last night in which he glared at me and then disappeared.
Considering how things went down yesterday, I expected Creighton to come after me again—there was just something strange in his gaze, something absolutely nefarious—but I didn’t think it’d be this soon.
“It’s not a hamster, it’s a cat, and his name is Tiger.” I clear my throat. “What are you doing here?”
“Volunteering.”
“Why?”
“Cecily asked me to.”
“And you just listened?”
He doesn’t reply, which is his cue that the conversation is over. But you know what? I’m done trying to impress him or get on his good side. That didn’t work anyway, and I seriously want to cut ties right now, so why the hell is he making it harder?
“I find it hard to believe that you decided to volunteer just because Cecily asked you to.”
“She said you were short on staff, but if that’s not the case, then I can tell Dr. Stephanie you don’t want me around.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
I narrow my eyes and he stares at Tiger, who’s fallen asleep on my lap, curled up in a ball.
He slowly slides his attention from the cat to my face. “What should I help with?”
“Ask Dr. Stephanie.”
“She said to ask you.”
“You can lift the bags of food and litter from the truck outside and put them with the stock.”
He doesn’t make a move to leave, and I desperately need to get out of his vicinity. Surely he knows that he sucks all the air out of the room whenever he’s around.
Creighton might be tall, muscular, and a renowned fighter at REU, but it’s his freezing stare and cold eyes that are intimidating.
“What?” I ask when he remains in place.
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll go check on the animals and finish some paperwork.”
“And then?”
“You’re awfully talkative today.”
His blank expression doesn’t falter. If anything, it’s cemented. “What will you do after you check on the animals?”
I purse my lips, and he regards me with that shimmering intensity again. The one that brims under the surface with the promise of exploding in a supernova of colors.
No, not colors. Probably just gray.
“Don’t make me ask the question again.” His voice deepens, brimming with authority.
And usually, I’d hate it. I’d try to subtly rebel against any form of a command. Not now, though.