LITMIR.BIZ

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look at her face,” my uncle ordered softly, and I caught a twitch of movement in the mirror on the edge of my vision—someone moving to better see my reflection.

      Fine, let them see. Turning my head, I bared my canines and hissed into the glass without actually looking at my face. I was oddly pleased by the resulting gasps. My smaller stature would afford them no advantage this time; if I caught an arm between my jaws, my cat teeth would cleave straight through to the bone in a single bite. No one seemed willing to risk that. Yet.

      The blankets moved beneath me, and my attention snapped back to the bed. Colin edged away from me slowly, cautiously, his legs sliding between my knees. He scooted until his spine hit the headboard. A growl of warning rumbled from my throat, and he jumped. Sweat trickled down his bare chest.

      Bloodlust surged through my veins. Chill bumps burst to life on my arms as some distant, still-human part of me understood what was happening—what my cat-self wanted—and was horrified. But before I could impose logic on my feline brain, Colin glanced to his right, clearly considering an escape, and the sudden movement triggered my pouncing instinct.

      A roar ripped free of my throat. I lunged the last few feet. Something heavy landed on the bed behind me. Strong hands grabbed my upper arms, holding me inches from my goal. Marc’s scent washed over me. “Good,” he murmured in my ear. “Let it loose. I’ve got you.”

      Not at all sure we were still playing, I struggled and lunged again, pulling him with me. My pointed, feline teeth snapped closed an inch from Colin’s nose.

      “Take her down!” Malone shouted, anger and panic saturating his voice.

      “Don’t move,” my father ordered with his usual quiet confidence.

      Marc ignored them both.

      Colin whimpered like a little bitch, and my not-so-inner cat soaked it up. His eyes flicked from mine up to Marc’s. “Call her off!” he sniveled, this time careful not to move.

      Marc’s grip tightened on my arms, and I struggled instinctively. Cats hate being restrained. “I can’t,” he said. “She’s strong when she’s pissed off, and I can’t hold her for long. If you want to calm her down, give her what she wants. Tell the truth. And do it fast. If I lose my grip, she’ll go straight for your throat. She’s done it before.”

      Ohhhh. Suddenly I understood Marc’s plan—a bit late, considering it was well under way. He was fucking brilliant! And surely if my brain weren’t foggy with cat-thoughts, I’d have gotten it earlier.

      Colin glanced at me and I let loose the growl I’d been holding back, confident now that even if I lost control of myself, Marc wouldn’t.

      Colin opened his mouth, hesitated, then finally spat, “That is the truth.” His gaze shifted to someone at the foot of the bed. “The bitch is crazy! See?”

      “Jace, get me a syringe,” Malone ordered.

      Jace must have refused silently, because I couldn’t hear him. But I heard Malone loud and clear. “Fine, I’ll get it myself.” Harsh footsteps stomped out of the room.

      Another slow, soft growl trickled from my throat, and a bead of sweat rolled down the side of Colin’s face, over the purple lump on his chin.

      “Can you get her off the bed?” Paul Blackwell asked hesitantly. It sounded as if he’d backed toward the door. Colin wasn’t the only one buying our act.

      “I’ll try,” Marc said.

      The bed shifted beneath me, and Marc let his hand slip on my arm. Taking my cue, I sprung at the injured tom again, probably more surprised than he was when my teeth raked his nose.

      Marc jerked me back again, but it was too late. Blood ran from a jagged cut on the end of Colin’s nose to drip down his chin.

      Shit! That wasn’t supposed to happen.

      The scent of blood exacerbated my bloodlust, and this time when I growled, it wasn’t on purpose. My fists clenched around the afghan on either side of Colin’s knees. My toes curled in the rough cotton yarn, stabilizing my body for another lunge.

      Colin’s eyes widened, then his focus shifted to something over my shoulder as footsteps shuffled on the carpet. One whiff of the air told me Malone was back. A tiny pop, and I knew he’d uncapped the syringe. The sharp chemical scent of the sedative stung my nose. “Hold her still.”

      “What is that?” Dr. Carver asked from my right. I hadn’t heard him come back in.

      “It’s just a tranquilizer,” Malone said. More firm footfalls, and I bucked wildly. I had prior experience with syringes, and the memories were not pleasant. Marc’s grip on my arms tightened, and he pulled back, putting pressure on my shoulders.

      “Stop, Calvin,” my father ordered, and I stilled to listen, still pinning Colin with my glare. “You wanted a demonstration, and now you’re getting one. She’s fine, aren’t you, Faythe?”

      Marc answered for me. “She’ll be fine once she calms down. And she’ll calm down as soon as Dean tells the truth.”

      Malone’s footsteps stomped closer.

      “One more step and I’ll let her go,” Marc warned, and I expected to hear my father object, but he didn’t. “Dean’s the only one who can end this. Do it, Dean. Tell the truth. You owe her that.”

      Colin whined, and I opened my mouth, showing my willingness to follow through on Marc’s threat. “Fine! You’re right!” He faced away from me on the pillow. “She was going after the stray, and I wanted to Shift first. He could have shredded us like he did Brett. I just wanted a fair fight.”

      “Yet a tabby half your size was willing to face him with nothing but a meat mallet and a prayer. You’re useless, Dean, and you’re not worth her mercy,” Marc spat, releasing my arms.

      Gratitude swept through me, chased by a familiar pang of loss I was coming to associate with Marc.

      Justice is a powerful concept, and it was not lost on me, in spite of the more feral righteousness the cat in me demanded. Triumph penetrated my rage and soothed my bloodlust like balm on a burn. I swung one leg over Colin’s stomach and stood. He exhaled in relief, but watched me warily, as if I might yet decide to rip his throat out.

      Dismissing Colin, I turned toward the rest of the room and smiled to the best of my ability. I crossed my arms beneath my breasts in a show of confidence, as if I’d never doubted the outcome.

      “Well played,” Marc said, grinning at me proudly.

      Malone’s face flushed beneath his obvious horror at my appearance. He knew he’d been conned, and he was pissed. But he was too much of a coward to complain while I still had the physical advantage.

      “Wow,” Dr. Carver said, and my head swiveled in his direction. A sharp gasp came from behind him, and Paul Blackwell stared at me in undisguised revulsion. Evidently most of the room’s occupants hadn’t gotten a good look at my inbetween face in the mirror.

      Their reactions were what I expected. They were horrified. Repulsed. Every last one of them, except Marc, my father and the doctor. Even Jace looked…uncomfortable, at best. Later, they might realize what a wonderful thing the partial Shift was. That if we mastered it, we would gain the use of our werecat’s enhanced sight and hearing—and one hell of a set of canines—without losing the use of our fingers, and those handy semi-opposable thumbs. But for now, all they could think about was my deformed face.

      I had to look. I’d had no intention of doing it, but when the moment came, when I stared at each of them in turn, meeting stare after disgusted stare, I had to know what they saw.

      Smoothing my shirt into place, I turned slowly toward the dresser, only dimly aware of the people around me as my face came into focus in the mirror. I’d only really seen the inbetween face once before, but I’d felt the features with my hands often enough

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