Page 132 of Pack Scratch Fever
My stomach twists, and I look away and watch a pair of calico kittens wrestling. Toy mice go flying while they create a hurricane of chaos.
Poe and Avery are my only family, aside from my estranged extended family. Poe, Avery, and the packhouse are all I have.
I thought I had Piper at one time, too, but Poe potentially ruined that for us.
“I’m sorry,” Poe says simply. “For everything.”
I shrug. “At least now you’ll be fun at parties.”
He chuckles.
Then, we both watch with bated breath as Mister Whiskers closes the remaining distance between him and Poe and places a tentative paw on Poe’s knee.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, while Poe remains frozen, allowing Mister Whiskers to take his time. The cat eventually flops down next to Poe’s leg and rubs his chin happily on him.
“When the hell did you become a cat whisperer?” I demand, and Poe just stares at the cat in shock. Gently, he reaches out and strokes the cat’s plush fur.
“She did say I smell like catnip,” he murmurs.
Piper.
“I can’t wait any longer,” I admit. “I have to see her today.”
Poe’s eyes narrow and his hand freezes. “We respect her boundaries, no matter what.”
“This isn’t killing you?” I hiss. “She’s all I can think about. Not only that, but she also doesn’t feel well. We’re supposed to just sit around and do nothing about it?”
Poe’s mouth forms into a thin line. “Us not respecting her space will only hurt her more.”
Poe’s right, but the ache in my chest is overwhelming. I dig my nails into my palms, trying to ground myself and ignore the impulse to find her.
“She’s our Omega, Poe. Our scent match.”
His eyes narrow. “I’m aware, Maddox. But we only go to her when she’s ready for us. She’s not some helpless damsel—she’s a grown woman who makes her own decisions. We aren’t going to force our way into her life, especially after she’s been so vulnerable with us.”
He’s right.
I know Poe’s right.
And I hate him for being so rational at the moment.
“Fuck!” I hiss, and a white kitten jumps up in the air, startled. “The only thing that makes me feel remotely better is being around these guys.” I motion to the cats.
“What do you think I’m doing here?” he asks quietly. “This is the only way I can connect to her. And cats aren’t as bad as I thought they were.”
He resumes stroking Mister Whiskers, whose purr is so loud it echoes in the room, like a small engine.
“Are you only saying that becauseshelikes them, or do you really mean it?” I challenge. “Because she’ll see right through that.”
He shakes his head. “No. They’re independent and only give affection when they see fit. I can respect that.”
As if to prove his point, the grumpy cat flops onto its back and exposes its soft, furry belly.
“What about when they tear up your herb garden?” I taunt.
He groans. “They’re pests then, but not any other time.”
“I can’t believe it’s only been a few days since we saw her,” I admit. “It seems like it’s been years.”
