Page 14 of Root

I roll my eyes and groan. “God, woman. You’re asking for it.”

“No,” she snaps. “Nikolai is.”

“Why—”

“Because,” Nikolai says behind her, “there was an incident.”

“Asshole.” In a flash, Rose hurls the whiskey bottle at his head.

Nikolai catches it effortlessly. “Rose.”

The warning is something no one in their right mind ignores. I hold my breath; Rose isn’t in her right mind.

“This shit is expensive.” Nikolai shakes it at her and sets it down.

“You could have died.” Rose glares. “I’m not interested in being a widow. I like black, I just don’t want to wear it all the time. Plus, I’d have to find a new man…”

Nikolai grunts a laugh. “Like I’d let another man touch you.”

“What are you going to do if you’re dead, Nikolai?” she taunts.

He grins slowly as he crosses to her. My cousin slides an arm around her, and I’m not sure if I should cover the kitten’s innocent eyes.

“Haunt them,” Nikolai says. “With extreme prejudice.”

He kisses her, and I look at the cat. It’s cute for an evil attack machine.

Suddenly, Nikolai breaks the kiss and points. “What the actual fuck is that?”

I hang out with Dante, or whatever he’ll end up being named, as Nikolai and Rose argue.

The argument will lead to kissing and then they’ll probably have sex.

Probably?

More like will.

People need warning horse blinkers coming in here. Not that Nikolai is about to let someone see her naked again, but one day, he’ll slip up.

In the kitchen, I set the kitten on the counter, find a saucer, and open the fridge. I’ll pour some…kitten milk? Whatever. I grab a carton and serve the kitten. The cat laps it with a pink tongue and purrs like the loudest motor.

I’m sure the cat’s no bigger than my hand. Whatever–it probably won’t stay.

Apart from the fucking kitten milk, there’s a bag of freeze-dried raw food, so I make some up for the kitten, who cries like his tummy isn’t full of milk.

I am never having fucking kids. Jesus.

The cat dances, looking anxious, until I put the bowl down. Then, I add some water in a fat glass for it.

Nikolai appears and just stares at the kitten. His tie is askew, and there’s a bite mark on his neck, red and purple. “What the fuck, Rush? Are you building a cat high rise on the counter?” he asks.

“Er…” I realize I’ve picked up the jacket I dumped when I went looking for one of my IPAs earlier in my hands. Because, yeah, I was going to make a barrier. I put it down. “No.”

The kitten chooses that moment to take up residence on my jacket. He turns and kneads it, turns, kneads again, and then settles down into a ball, purring.

Nikolai looks at the cat. “Why did you get a fucking wild animal?”

“Rose got it. Your wife, old man,” I say. “Blame her.”

---