by Eve Langlais
Touch my furry balls, asshole, and die.
A minute later, someone did die. By my paw, I must admit, mostly because I scented the witch on the fellow. Given she’d hung the miscreant on the railing, having magicked his clothes into rope, the dick deserved the swipe of my claws that sent him plummeting.
Good thing I’d signed the indemnity clause before boarding. What happened on the cruise stayed on the cruise.
My mother waylaid me next. “Ozzie, why aren’t you upstairs with the others partying?”
In her fifties and looking trim for her age, my mom arched a brow as she waited for a reply. A good one too, or she’d order me back upstairs.
Shifting, I was ready with an excuse. “I was tired. Thought I’d hit the sack early.”
“You can sleep in.”
“Not if I want to hit the gym before breakfast.”
“Since when are you that motivated in the morning?” Mom knew me so well. Then her expression went from suspicious to delighted. “Don’t tell me you’ve already set your sights on a woman.”
“You caught me.” I shrugged and offered a sheepish smile. No need to tell her the woman wasn’t mating material. My mother had a thing against witches.
“Who is she? Do I know her parents? Please don’t tell me she’s from that wolf pack on board. They’re Canadian and won’t shut up about their healthcare system. You know what,”—she waved a hand—“so what if she is. Fresh blood would do the pride some good.”
“She’s fresh, all right,” I replied. As in not even compatible. Something about the way witches’ magic wouldn’t work on us also caused problems with the whole procreation bit. Add to that a feud that went back centuries…
“Here I am, getting in your way, making you late for your tryst.” My mother shoved me. “Go. Have fun.”
Don’t mind if I do. I mean, a boy should never disobey his mother. Back on four feet, and getting tired of switching, I trotted after Glinda’s enticing scent, only to get stopped. Again. This time by an old woman wearing a strapless dress patterned in a bold clash of flowers, hanging low due to her gravitationally-challenged cleavage.
“And where do you think you’re going, giant feline?”
Another witch, I realized with a sniff. Her scent also hinted of the one I followed, making her most likely a family member. Perhaps she would help me. I returned to my man shape, feeling fatigue tug at all the rapidly-spaced changes.
The older lady perused me and smacked her lips. “If I were a few centuries younger…”
Knowing full well how to play this game, I winked. “Experience is golden.
“Flirt.” She smiled but wasn’t distracted. “What are you doing in this part of the ship?”
“Taking a stroll,” I offered her a shrug.
“There’s nothing down this hall for you to see.” She blocked me quite adeptly, especially since my mother had raised me to never lay a hand on a lady—or lose it. Happened to my cousin Horatio.
“Okay, you caught me.” Said in my best aw-shucks tone. “I was checking on a witch. A relation of yours, I believe. Sister maybe?” I queried, earning a titter.
“Why are you stalking Jane?”
Jane? Such a simple name for a complex creature. “Just checking she made it to her room safely. She had an altercation with a pirate.”
“Not even one day and she’s having fun.” The old lady beamed.
“She didn’t seem very happy, so I thought I’d pay her a visit.”
“I’m sure you did.” Wink. “I can’t believe my Janey has the boys chasing her already. Although, you’re not what I would have expected.” She eyed me again, and my hands dropped to cover my junk. “So, you found it then?”
“Found what?” I replied at a complete loss.
“The locket?”
“What locket?”
She frowned. “You don’t have it?”
“Not a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Pity,” she said with a sigh. “In that case, you shouldn’t waste your time with my granddaughter.” She sauntered past and said over her shoulder, “She’s about to get engaged.”
“To who?” I couldn’t help but ask, annoyance with no basis filling me. The old lady didn’t reply, and after she’d left, I stared at the door.
The door. Behind it was an interesting witch. One who was off-limits in more ways than one.
But that wasn’t why I ended up getting royally drunk in my room.
See, when I’d asked the witch who Glinda was marrying, my inner feline muttered, Us, you idiot.
6
Jane: I’ll put her in a nice home. The kind that gives them real Jell-O.
“I can’t believe I lost track of my locket.” I remained peeved as I paced my tiny coffin of a room. Grandma had really skimped on the accommodations. We had a pair of bunks and a miniscule washroom, that was it. Not enough room by far to properly pace and rant. A good thing my bag had a pocket dimension to hold everything I might need. Because right now, I needed a punching bag. And ice cream. Oh, and some whipped cream with cherries to go on top.
Except I’d forgotten to replenish my travel larder, and all I had to munch my annoyance away was stale black licorice.
Which was still delicious, if too chewy.
“This is all his fault.” Not the pirate. That lion. How dare he get involved? How dare he be so hot?
How could I properly hate the man like I should when his abs had baby abs of their own? And then there was his feline, a sleek creature with a lush, dark mane. He stood out compared to the golden-hued lions I’d seen before.
But forget about him.
“I need to find that locket.” Pronto. Before the wrong sort ended up in possession of it. What if I accidentally fell in love with a ghoul? Or, the dark lord forbid, a shifter?
I’d never hear the end of it at family reunions. Just look at Great-Aunt Leona, who married that wolf that worked on Wall Street. Everyone whispered about how disgustingly rich she was, and how many well-behaved children she had, and the lovely house she owned in the snooty part of town…
Hmmm. On second thought, that didn’t help the case.
Besides, I panicked for nothing. Magic didn’t work on shifters. Which meant my locket would never end up in the paws of one. I hoped. With my luck, love spells would be the one exception to the rule.
“Where are you, Grandma?” Who knew where she had gotten to? For all I knew, she’d planted the locket on the pirate herself. A poor choice if you asked me. Did she really think I wanted to date my father?
Gross.
Almost as bad as that shifter who’d gotten in my way. No surprise that my thoughts turned back to Oz. But with good cause. He was the reason I didn’t have my necklace. What had possessed him to chase that pirate in the first place?
And did he have no shame? Standing around afterward, naked as the day he was born, his big, bulky body on display. Then there was that massive erection.
So massive.
For me.
That tingly feeling between my legs happened again. I immediately squelched it. Witches might not have many standards, but in my family, we did at least know better than to consort with Oz’s kind. Grandma tended to be old school in that respect. I still remembered her cackling in glee as her nemesis, Rasputin, had a granddaughter who married some feline. Which wasn’t enough to stem her jealousy when the other granddaughter of her enemy married the Antichrist.
Personally, I was jealous of the fact that this Evangeline character, the one with the pussy husband, got the title Wickedest Witch when all I got from my peers was the Bitchy Witch. Also well deserved, but not as cool.
If I cared about such things. Which I didn’t. What I cared about was getting my damned locket back—without a husband attached to it.
If the pirate no longer had it, then who did? All I knew for sure was that it remained somewhere on the ship. I could feel the faint link between it and me, but I was too tired to deal with it tonight. Especially sinc
e wandering the ship meant dealing with drunken ogres, centaurs, and other creatures. Best wait until morning when the night owls and sun-challenged were all passed out.
I cast a spell so I could sleep. The following day, I readied myself to face the world. It took a few stabs in the bag before I located some clothes and made it to breakfast. I’d concocted a dull plan, which consisted of wandering around the ship until the locket tugged at me. With no clear place to start my search, I began in the dining room, which was set up with tables in rounds and a massive buffet.
The room was emptier than expected. People, demons, things sleeping off their hangovers. The lack of a crowd made it easy for Grandma to spot me.
“There’s my sweet granddaughter,” she exclaimed, her voice almost as bright as her ensemble, an orange blouse tucked into a green skirt. But most astonishing of all…
“Grandma, where are your wrinkles?” I demanded. Because the woman in front of me, while definitely the one who’d spent a good portion of my life raising me, looked nothing like the matron who’d arrived on the boat. Now sporting an age of around forty, her face had smoothed, her boobs had lifted, and she’d even shaved her legs! Longer appendages than she’d had when we landed on the ship.
“Please, you didn’t actually think a witch of my powers looks that old, did you?” Grandma snickered. “I only wear an age glamour to keep the mundanes in the neighborhood from noticing.”
“But…but…” I had no words to explain the annoyance with myself that I’d never caught on. In my defense, the house was steeped in magic, and thus, I always assumed the miasma of power around Grandma was natural.
“Close your mouth, dear. We don’t want people to think you’re easy, now do we?” She used a fingertip to shut my jaw.
Speaking of easy… “Where were you last night?” I said, crossing my arms. “You didn’t sleep in your bed.”
“None of your business. But if it makes you feel better, I don’t think I got pregnant.”
I almost choked. Then I did cough as a deep voice behind me said, “Morning, Glinda.”
“You!” I whirled and glared at Oz, who had the temerity to wear a grin—and clothing. Jerk.
“You again? Why, a lady might start thinking you’re stalking her and welcome it?” Grandma tossed her head.
The comment had me eyeing my grandma. “You know this man?”
“Not well enough yet,” she purred.
Gag.
“Any time you want to have a chat…” Oz flirted right back.
“Hands off the pussy,” I snapped to Grandma. “And you keep your dirty paws off my grandmother.”
“Does this mean I should keep my pawing to you?” he riposted.
“Don’t make me find a leash,” I growled.
Whereas Grandma beamed. “Well, good for you, finally claiming yourself a pet.”
Oz choked with laughter, whereas I gritted my teeth. “He’s not my anything.”
“Then that makes him fair game.” Grandma eyed Oz up and down and might have said more if a voice didn’t interrupt. “Good morning, Dottie.” The demi-demon from the day before appeared with a big smile.
“Who’s Dottie?” I asked.
Grandma pursed her lips. “Me.”
I frowned. “Since when?” Grandma was just…Grandma. Unless she was hanging with her friends, who called her Dorothy.
“She’s been Dottie for a long time. She used to hate her real name, seeing as how she got it before that Baum fellow made it famous,” Shax advised with a wink. Then, to my grandma, he said, “So delighted you are joining me for breakfast.”
“You wish,” she scoffed. “I am eating with Jane.”
“Ah, yes, your lovely granddaughter.” Shax sketched me a bow. “So nice to see you again.”
“Not really,” grumbled my grandma, and I finally knew how to get back at her.
“You know what? You really should have breakfast with Shax. Catch up on old times.”
“I have nothing to say to him.” Grandma tilted her chin.
“Just as stubborn as ever.”
“Must be a family trait,” muttered Oz, which earned him a jab and a glare from me.
“It is too early for this. I need a mimosa,” muttered Grandma before she stomped off. With a demi-demon shadow.
“I wonder who he is,” I muttered aloud. I’d never seen Grandma let anyone get under her skin before.
“I thought you knew his name.” Oz had yet to disappear.
“I do. Shax something or other.” I shrugged.
Oz snapped his fingers. “I know that name. Uncle to the captain from what I heard,” said Oz, who remained by my side. Fully clothed. Annoying me. Mostly because I’d prefer he wore nothing at all.
“Don’t you have some mice to chase for breakfast?” I asked.
“I prefer honey drizzled on succulent fruit.” His gaze was on my mouth. His words stroked me with phantom fingers. My libido woke up, starved for more.
“Must you make everything about sex?”
He angled a brow. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Was it me and my horny girly bits turning innocuous words into something dirty? “I need coffee.”
“As my witch commands.” He snared a cup from a passing waiter and held it out, waiting until it was filled to the brim before handing it to me.
“Who says I drink it black?”
He smiled. “You want cream, just say the word.”
I choked down a scalding mouthful. While my tongue tried to recover from the abuse, I veered my attention to the entrance of our illustrious captain. Adexios, son of the infamous Charon, the boatman for the Styx. Which wasn’t as reassuring as you’d think. Even on the mundane side, everyone had heard about Adexios’s mishaps. He’d lost more souls in the crossings than all the other boatmen combined.
“How was the rest of your evening once we parted ways?” Oz asked.
Boring. Lonely. Sans batteries because, apparently, I’d forgotten to pack some. “Fine.” Then I don’t know where the urge to be polite came from, but I said, “Yours?”
“Lonely. Boring. Lacking the company of a lady.”
“Did your inflatable doll pop under your claws?” Spoken with a sweet smile.
The laughter that burst from him caught me off guard and warmed me.
“You’re clever,” he said. Not gorgeous. Or entrancing.
Clever. A compliment I actually appreciated.
“I see you found your pants.” Words I regretted the moment they left my lips.
“Just say the word, and I’ll lose them again.” He winked.
A wink shouldn’t have the ability to make my girly parts clench with giddiness. “How about you stay away from me?”
“Be nice, Glinda. After all, you’re going to thank me in a minute.”
“Doubtful.” I inched away from him, aiming for the chocolate croissants that suddenly caught my eye. Almost as good as sex. Surely, they’d help with my current problem.
Alas, sex on two legs followed. “You are trying to find something on this ship, and I want to help you.”
Suddenly suspicious, I eyed him. “Why would you do that? You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
“You don’t like me,” I stated baldly.
“I wouldn’t say that. You’re interesting.”
“So the offer of aid is because of a cat’s curiosity fetish?” And not because I was irresistible. Good, because I didn’t want him to like me.
“My feline interest in you is only part of it. By spending time hunting down what you lost, I get to avoid my family.”
I gaped at him. “You’ve got family here? You cad!” I shoved at him. “What is wrong with you?”
Oz allowed me to shove him—not that he budged—and chuckled. “I didn’t abandon my wife and kids if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m single since you seem interested. I was talking about my parents and sisters. Plus, some cousins. Aunts. Uncles. You know…family.”
&nbs
p; Embarrassment heated my cheeks, followed by a strange relief. “Why do you want to avoid them? I thought cats were all about family gatherings.”
He grimaced. “My sister is getting married. Which means tons of giggling, a hopeful mother of the bride eyeing her only son, and handsy bridesmaids. Trust me when I say I’d rather stick close to you than deal with them.”
“You do realize if any of them comes near me, I’m liable to say something nasty.”
His grin widened. “I’m counting on it. Now, move aside. If I’m going to play the part of tracker, I need some of those pastries.”
“I never agreed.”
“Say yes.”
For a moment, I floundered, my mind flashing to every stupid, sappy, romantic movie I’d ever seen. Except Oz wasn’t proposing marriage to me. “I shouldn’t.”
“Scared of a pussy cat?”
There was something about being challenged that made an idiot out of people. “Fine. You want to help, then go right ahead.”
He took my acceptance to mean he could lean past me and snare five croissants to my one. Plus a heaping platter of bacon. Then Oz handed me a tray of sausage.
“I don’t want any,” I managed to say.
“But you do have a free hand.”
And he just went right ahead and used it. Kind of taken by surprise, I allowed it. Shocking, I know, but what can I say? The idea of using his nose to help me find my locket intrigued. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that being close to him made me all tingly inside.
He led. I followed. Don’t judge. What could I say? He might be an animal, but he had a nice ass in tight jeans. Not the usual attire for the tropics, but it worked for him.
Oz led us right to the captain’s table, and I might have groaned except young Grandma was there, doing her best to ignore the demi-demon sitting beside her. A handsome demon I should add, with silver wings in his dark hair from which poked a pair of ebony horns, a swarthy complexion, and a way of making my grandma silent that I’d give anything to learn.
I went to sit down across from them when a tiny voice squeaked, “Don’t squish me.”