Cattitude Read Online Free PDF Page B

already tried to climb a tree, her
claws catching on the rough bark. Halfway up, she’d glanced down,
her claws retracted, and she’d tumbled to the ground.
    Why wasn’t she dead? She’d seen the cat’s
eyes glaze over, the life force leaving the small body. She’d
wanted it to be her, not the cat. That’s what she’d prayed for.
    Half of her request had come true.
    The older man tramped a step ahead of the
younger one. She’d heard him try to get the cat inside her body to
say his name. Max. A strong name for a strong man. One look at the
determined set of his chin, and she saw he was in charge. The kind
of man who knew what he wanted and where he was going. The kind of
man who made her want to run the other way, as far and fast as
these four furry legs would take her.
    The younger one looked like more fun. He
smiled often, the dimples in his cheeks indenting. Max had no
dimples. The younger man’s chin was rounded, his nose high-bridged.
Max’s chin was square and stubborn and his nose...impressive. He
looked like whatever he put his mind to, he’d accomplish.
    No one would have called Fletcher impressive.
Or accomplished. He wasn’t even an effective blackmailer.
    A plaintive meow escaped her throat.
    Immediately, the footsteps stomping through
the forest stopped, then changed direction. Turning in a slow
circle, the younger man reconnoitered the area.
    “Is that you, Belle?”
    Belle. She glanced down at the dainty body
covered with medium-length gray fur. A southern belle, or perhaps a
silver bell. So that’s whose body she occupied. She’d worn
secondhand clothes before, but this was the first time she wore
secondhand fur.
    The younger man hiked toward her, and she
burrowed beneath the dead leaves. Both men seemed helpful, staying
to search for her. Well, not her. For her body—currently occupied
by the cat, but they didn’t know that. And if they found her
instead, what would happen? Would they think she was their cat and
take her back to the house?
    She couldn’t let that happen.
    Someone had thrown the cat at her car. She
hadn’t seen the person, but by the rate of force she was positive
the cat had been flung directly at her windshield. Someone had been
trying to kill it.
    If she went back in this cat body...
    Not too long ago she’d wanted to die. The
only person who ever loved her was dead. Why should she care if
someone killed her in the cat form?
    But she did. Maybe it was the cat body that
didn’t want to die. But she cared terribly.
    A strangled sound came from her throat.
    “Is that Belle?” another voice asked, deeper
and more commanding.
    Inching her head out of the leaves like a
worm, Sorcha peeked at Max’s granite face, about ten feet away. Her
heart fluttered so fiercely her whole body quivered. He scared her.
He was too masculine. Too positive. The kind of man who would never
understand a person like her.
    “I thought I saw her out here earlier,” he
said.
    The younger man shrugged. “Could’ve been any
cat.”
    “If you find a stray, bring it in.”
    “Taking on another needy creature?”
    “Stuff it.” Max turned and strode away.
    Ducking back beneath the leaves, Sorcha
shivered. She couldn’t let either of them find her. She had to get
away.
    Sorcha used her claws to push leaves to the
side, then saw the younger man’s feet pass over her head. “Sorcha,”
he called. “C’mon, Sorcha, don’t be afraid. We’ll make sure no one
hurts you.”
    No , she thought, even though she knew
he was calling the cat that was using her body. I’ll make sure
no one hurts me .
    After all, the last man who promised to take
care of her was murdered. She had to do a better job than that.
    The younger man disappeared into the trees,
his footsteps squishing on wet leaves. Sorcha poked her head up and
climbed out of the pile of leaves. Ignoring an urge to lick herself
clean, she leapt away from the two men and ran.
    ***
    “Sorcha,” Max called. “Sorcha.”
    Belle watched from her