I pushed Bobby from my thoughts. Whether a shifter had lost control or not, didn't change anything. I wasn't going back. I just needed to be more careful than before.
A pair of hands grasped my elbows and pulled me, quite literally, out of my thoughts and toward the dance floor.
"Dance with me, beautiful,” the man attached to the hands said.
He wasn't anyone I recognized, and I dug my heels in, refusing to be dragged.
"Let go.” I had absolutely no intention of going out on the dance floor. With all those writhing bodies, it looked more like an orgy than dancing.
Bryant appeared at my side. “This guy bothering you, Kita?"
The man released my arms, and Bryant shoved the drinks at me. He stepped between me and the interloper, who backed away, putting his hands up.
"Hey, nothing meant by it. She looked lonely sitting there is all.” The man kept backing away until the crowd swallowed him.
Bryant led me back to the couch with his arm around my shoulders. Since I needed no help walking this time, the gesture came off as creepily possessive. I probably shouldn't have accepted any drinks. Now I'd have to slip out before he expected me to work off the tab. Well, he'd already bought this one, might as well drink it and buy some time where I had safety in numbers. After all, it wasn't like I could get drunk, given how efficiently a shifter's body processed liquor, and extra calories are always welcome to a moocher.
I'd no sooner sat down, when someone landed in my lap.
The sight of a young woman resting her head and shoulders on my thighs made me cringe. Blue hair with bright pink streaks framed her face like a psychedelic halo.
"Your lap is hard,” she said, lifting her head a couple inches and then dropping it again. She let out a peel of giggles. “You have kitty-cat eyes. Meeoow.” She made a hideous imitation of a cat's paw and pretended to claw at me.
One of her companions hauled her out of my lap. “Sorry about her. A little too much bourbon tonight."
"She's on more than bourbon,” Bryant whispered.
I glanced sideways to make sure the girl wouldn't fall on me again, but she was already splayed across the lap of the guy on the other side of her.
My drink ran out too quickly; even the early train wouldn't run for several more hours. If I left now, I'd be on the street until then. It was time for a new approach. If I drank Bryant under the table, he'd be too drunk to demand repayment. I let him buy another round.
He told me stories about what his office companions did and said, wild vacations he'd taken, and finally offered a drunken spiel about his hopes and dreams for the future. I tried to listen, but mostly just nodded a lot and laughed when he did. With each drink, Bryant invaded more of my personal space: first his thigh brushing mine, then his hand resting on my knee, next his fingers running up and down my arms, and finally stroking my face. I batted his hand away and pressed myself further into the couch. He was too drunk to sit up straight, not drunk enough to step over—how long before I could safely leave? I glanced at Bryant's watch.
As I leaned in for a better view of the digital numbers, he moved to meet me and smashed his lips against mine. Stunned, I shoved him away, but that didn't discourage him.
"Come home with me, Kita?"
"I should go, now."
"Don't go. Have one last drink.” He sprang up and staggered to the bar.
One more hour. I just needed to hide one more hour. I crossed my legs and tugged the brim of my hat further down. Maybe this last round would be the drink that would put him on the floor.
"Here we go,” Bryant said as he settled on the couch again. He handed me a cup. “To new friends."
I obligingly tapped the rim of my plastic cup against his and took a sip of the fruity drink. Bryant leaned back, watching me. His shoulder brushed mine, but otherwise he respected my personal space. As I sipped my drink, he told me a long rambling story I didn't follow. Maybe the walk to the bar had done him some good. More sober was good in that he was no longer trying to slobber all over me, but it also meant I'd have a harder time slipping away.
As he spoke, I found myself staring at the way light played in the ice cubes in my cup. Little sparkling colors trapped in frozen glass.
"Did you hear me Kita?"
I tore my attention away from the ice and looked at Bryant. “Is it hotter in here than it was?” I asked, rubbing a hand over the thin material of my camisole.
Bryant only smiled at me. His arm fell around my shoulders. The weight of it felt strange, but not bad as he scooted closer to me. Hadn't he asked me a question? I tried to remember, but Bryant's fingers drawing shapes over my collar bone distracted me.
The cup with its melting ice slipped from my grasp and dumped down the front of my jeans. I jumped up, surprised. The room spun around me and not because of the lights. I blinked. Alcohol shouldn't have affected me, but something had. I looked in Bryant's direction and his smile danced in my vision. My mouth went dry. I expected to have to fight to keep from shifting into my second form, but my cat stayed quiet. That made my fear sharper.
Bryant handed me my coat, and his other hand slipped around mine, our fingers interlocking. “Let's go home, Kita."
I stared my hand, at our touching skin. I could see it, but I couldn't feel it. I had to get out of here.
Wrenching my arm away, I ran while I still could. People were a blur as I barreled by them. The doors were in front of me, and then I was in the snow. The cold felt good compared to the alien heat rushing through my veins and churning in my stomach. I didn't know if I was being followed. In that moment, hunters didn't matter and Bryant didn't matter. All that mattered was outrunning the fog settling in my mind.
* * * *
I ran until my knees gave out. Hot vomit burned at my throat, and my stomach heaved. I retched.
Gasping for clean air, I dragged myself away from the area I'd defiled.
The street lights quivered, becoming uncertain stars in my darkening vision. Leaning against a doorjamb, I closed my eyes and tried to block out the dizzying way the buildings swam around me. I shrugged into my coat, but snow was already melting into my jeans. The bitter cold soaked through my clothes, making my body painful and stiff. My mind felt like it was floating in warm water.
Snow crunched under heavy boots and my eyes snapped open. I immediately regretted it as my stomach tried to leap out of my mouth again. With nothing left inside me, I coughed and felt no better for it. Whoever was behind me hesitated. Please, let it be a bum. Pushing myself up, I concentrated on seeing past the static in my brain.
A broad man in a coat that had seen better days stood two yards away. A grin caught one side of his lips as he studied me. Casually, he tipped his head in the pantomime of lifting a nonexistent hat.
Wolf musk met my nose.
Another hunter? I was in so much trouble. Think. My hand slid across the door behind me, but there was no outside handle. Damn it, think of something. No bright plans emerged from the syrup my brain sloughed through.
"A stray Dyre?” His tone made it apparent it wasn't a question.
Yeah, a stray Dyre. The heir to the Torin, the future leader of my clan, run away to hide among the humans.
"Hard to believe, huh?” I was going for bravado, but the words came out slurred. I gulped. Crap.
His lopsided grin widened. “I'll take it you're at fault for filling my city with hunters? So much trouble for such a small feline."
His city? Not a hunter. A stray? No. We strays avoided each other.
He stalked forward, and I pressed my back against the door. Apparently not this stray.
"Stay away from me!"
He didn't listen.
I swung hard, my fist connecting with his shoulder. He grunted, but I hadn't scored a solid hit. Before I could pull back and swing again, his fist landed in my abdomen. The world spun, and I doubled over, gasping. There wasn't enough air, and as I tried to drag some into my screaming lungs, he caught my wrist and jerked me upright.
I stumbled.
Faking a second stumble, I lunged forward, throwing my weight against him. The stray hadn't expected that. I wrenched my wrist free, but he immediately snagged me by my coat collar. I wiggled out of it, pulling my arms free of the sleeves as I ducked.
Damn, and I really loved that coat.
Skittering sideways, my foot landed badly on the edge of the stoop. I tumbled into a snow drift. My reactions were too slow to brace my fall, and my head slammed into the brick wall. Grey fog filled my already sketchy vision.
Large hands hauled me out of the snow. I kicked wildly, but my foot passed through empty air. Thrown off center by the failed kick, my back slammed into the wall. The stray caught the front of my camisole, and bunching it in his fist, dragged me forward. A fuzzy outline of his shoulders filled my vision.
"Thanks for the dance, sweetheart.” He pulled something shiny from his pocket.
Frantic, I squirmed, and the thin material of my camisole ripped in his grasp. Backpedaling, I turned to run, but the drug in my system made the street lurch. I fell into the wall again, my cheek scraping hard against the brick.
A large hand slammed between my shoulder blades, pinning me to the wall. His other hand wrenched my arm behind my back, and a cold chain snapped around my left wrist. My arm went numb.
I screamed and thrashed in his grip. He grasped my arm harder, jerking up until my shoulder cried in agony. I went still.
I still had one arm free. One chance left. I spiraled my attention inward. I needed just a little energy and a narrow focus—I didn't want to fully shift. At first, nothing happened, and panic made me reach deeper, draw more of my cat. I'd only done this twice before, and only intentionally once. I poured energy into my free hand. Pain blossomed in my palm, spreading toward my knuckles. The joints popped, bent backward. Blood streamed down my fingers as the skin over the tips split and my claws extended.
I'd only get one shot at this.
Moving as quickly as my drug-addled brain would allow, I reached back, raking my claws over my opponent's thigh. Cloth and flesh split. Cursing, the stray shoved away from me.