Hunted (Pack of Dawn and Destiny, #1)(31)

It was also the home of the Bedevilments.

I stuck a ceramic food bowl that was decorated with pinecones and deer down in front of a plump cat. “Princess, this is your food. This. No, this.”

I tapped the ceramic bowl, but she was more interested in the ceramic platter I held in my other hand, which was shaped like a fish.

“Prince, this is for you.” I set the fish platter down in front of a similarly colored cat that sat about two feet away before I stood up and waited.

The nearly identical cats stared back at me. Mirror images of each other with gray fur and white chins and paws, Prince and Princess made a striking pair. Particularly because both were at least three or four pounds overweight—which for a cat is a lot.

Princess’s gray fur was just the tiniest bit lighter, and she was one pound smaller than her brother. Otherwise they looked so similar it was hard to know which one was which unless they were sitting side by side.

However, they were equally fussy and full of spite.

The cats looked away from me, stood, then stalked across the two-foot gap between them, Prince making for Princess’s bowl, while Princess closed in on Prince’s fish platter.

“No! You can’t swap food!” I picked up Princess, who sagged from my grasp, and grabbed her ceramic bowl. I carried her across the sitting room, to the edge of the kitchen—which was about five steps away. She meowed angrily as I set her down.

I ignored it and slid the ceramic bowl in front of her. “You have the fancy allergy food. Prince has the prescription level diet food. You cannot switch, or you’ll get sick and he’ll get fatter!”

Princess gave me a look of disgust, then bolted—moving as fast as lightning despite her portly heft.

I grabbed Prince as he made a beeline for Princess’s ceramic bowl and hauled him back to his fish dish where Princess was eating so fast her breathing was wheezy.

“No—you can’t eat that!” I set Prince down and picked up Princess. Her extra rolls of skin draped over my arm as I walked her back to the kitchen and desperately, because I didn’t want to clean up cat puke in the middle of the night, stuck Princess on top of the table, then grabbed her bowl and put it in front of her.

Princess looked from me to the bowl.

I scratched my nose as I watched for any sign that she might bolt. “Does it displease Your Highness?”

Princess strutted across the table and leaned over the side so she could rub her face against my arm. She purred, then wandered back to her food dish, pausing at my plastic cup of water I’d poured for myself when I got home.

She poked her tail high and peered back at me.

“Don’t—”

Using a white mittened paw, Princess pushed the glass off the table, spilling water everywhere.

She purred, then immediately settled down to eat her food.

I sighed. “Of course. That’ll teach me.” I suspiciously turned around, but Prince was innocently crunching on his diet kibble.

Shaking my head, I grabbed a dish towel and started cleaning up the mess—at least it was just water, and given the size of my place the cats could only do so much damage.

My cottage was small, but wolves spent so much time at the lodge, larger homes were unnecessary—particularly for a pair of retired wolves, given that Mama Dulce and Papa Santos had built this place long before I was around.

A tiny loft bedroom—where I slept—with a beautiful view of the forest occupied the small second floor of the cottage, while the main floor held a small sitting area, the compact kitchen, the only bathroom, and a slightly larger bedroom that had belonged to my adopted parents.

My loft bedroom had wooden slat walls and smelled faintly of wood, while the main floor had cherry wood floors that mysteriously never got scratched—even though I’d roller bladed through the house on more than one occasion—and a cute little stone fireplace topped with my only TV. The wallpaper in the sitting area was faded, and the tiny, three-seater table Princess had taken up residence on was so old a lot of the varnish covering it had been rubbed off, but I’d never buy a replacement table—I had too many memories of making cookies with Papa Santos and watching Mama Dulce make tamales wrapped in corn leaves there.

I’d inherited the cottage from them—though it technically belonged to the Pack, I’d be able to stay there rent free for as long as I wanted.

Once I finished cleaning up the water I got dinner ready for myself—a frozen pizza, because I am a fancy person—and watched the cats eat the last of their food as the pizza baked in the oven.

When the Bedevilments were almost finished with their food, I snuck over to the cupboard that had their ridiculously expensive food, treats, and various medications. It was strapped shut with a bungee cord because they’d gotten inside before and ripped open bags of treats.

After prying the cupboard open, I got out a cream I had to smear on lucky Princess’s rear, then got my disposable gloves—because there was no way I was doing this bare handed.

Gloves on and with the cream hidden behind my back, I casually strolled back to the table where Princess was licking out her dish.

I made a grab for her, but she skittered off so fast I only brushed the tip of her tail.

Considering her size, she was able to scuttle across the floor at a physics-defying pace, and evaded me as she ran into the bedroom my adopted parents used to occupy, scurrying under their empty bed.