Anna pondered that for a moment. “Is Satan a god?”
“No.”
“Dolly Parton?”
“No.”
“That bottle of red you’re purposely blocking because you’re an ass?”
“Also, no.”
“Then you’re probably right.” Anna let out a defeated sigh, as if she believed a single god would dare claim her as their apostle. The woman was walking sin—the hair, the boobs, the attitude. Hell hath no fury like Anna.
“Fine,” Anna grumbled, setting her hands on her generous hips, her blue eyes bland and bored. She gestured a waving hand toward my own. “I’m guessing they’re from your new pet?”
I looked down, following her gesture to the two long red marks scored across the back of my hand. They were thin, and though they hadn’t broken the surface, the skin was angry and raised.
I nodded.
“I love cats.” Anna grinned. “They’re little assholes.”
“Cat?” I mimicked. Their face came to mind; the way they were always guarded, fought any approach or touch, and nearenough hissed at me anytime I got close. My cheeks tightened and fought to hide the smile threatening to show. Maybe her guess wasn’t too far off.
“So stray, shelter, or breeder?”
I let the question simmer. “Stray.”
“Of course.” Anna smirked. “There’s no way you’d have passed a home check.” The smug smile on her face folded into a frown, a rare show of concern. “You’d better get those checked then.” She gestured back to my scratches. “It could have diseases.”
“Health check. Right.”
“A stray, huh?” Anna mused, rolling the words over her tongue, deep in thought. “Is it young? A kitten?”
“Adult,” I corrected. “A young adult.”
Anna’s nose scrunched. “That’s going to be harder then. A lot of strays are already set in their ways. Most have never known kindness, especially not from humans. Surviving day by day has been their only priority. Getting them to trust you will be difficult.”
“I figured as much.” I feathered my fingertips over the marks; they weren’t painful, but they ran deeper than they looked.
“Lamb.” A deep voice silenced our conversation.
I turned to see a familiar mountain standing on the other side of the bar. A small boulder fit snugly in his arms, dark head turned into the wide nape of his neck. Wolf’s rich brown eyes flickered between us, a suspicious glint devouring any crumb of insight into our conversation.
“What are you two up to?” The Russian lilt of his accent still hung on his words, but it had drastically faded from the deep brogue he’d had when they’d first met all those years ago.
I was amused by his expression and let a grin show on my face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“That’s why I asked, dipshit,” Wolf grunted, shifting the dead weight in his arms. The small child nuzzled deeper into his neck, his hands squeezing small fists full of his shirt. Wolf’s single large palm cupped the infant’s bottom, allowing the child to work on the stain of drool around his father’s collar.
“Tell you what?” I leaned forward over the bar, offering Wolf a wider smirk. “Why don’t we make a be—”
“Not happening,” Wolf cut me off, immediately shifting his gaze to Anna. “Take Dimi.” He shuffled the child from his shoulder and down into his arms. The overgrown baby didn’t even make a stir as Wolf extended him easily out toward her.
“Nuh-uh.” Anna wagged her finger at him, taking a step back. “It’s your turn.”
Wolf rolled his eyes. “It’s always my turn.”
“I carried him for nine months and shoved his huge head out of my vagina,” Anna snipped. “Do you know how many stitches I had to get because of your monster genes?”