Page 9 of Targeted By Fate
I didn’t get the damned doctor out of bed so he could tell me to sit on my ass and do nothing. Turning around so I didn’t yell at him again, I fisted my hands, trying to funnel the fury from my body, not that it did any good. Anger was festering and bubbling inside me, and I might explode if we didn’t come up with a better solution.
“But when he shifts, he may need rehab. Even shifters can become addicted.”
Taking a deep breath, I contemplated having a life partner who was addicted to drugs. He was my mate, and though we hadn’t met in person, I adored him. That wouldn’t change, but I’d have to rethink my lifestyle and that of my family: no alcohol or gambling. None of them took drugs, though they wouldn’t tell me if they did, knowing I’d judge them.
I dug my nails into my palms, wishing it was my mate marking me, but he was meowing, and I chose to believe he was trying to communicate. But I was so peeved about what he’d done to himself, I ignored his cries.
Cats are independent.
I bit back a snarky response to my beast. This wasn’t the time to tell me about cat traits.
He might walk out and never returnif you judge him.
I eyed the closed door, but cats were sneaky and they could squeeze through tight spaces.
“Is this room cat-proof?”
“Huh?”
“Nowhere the cat can escape.”
The doctor narrowed his eyes. “Not that I know of.”
I picked up my mate, and he mewed. It was safer having him in my arms so he couldn’t escape. Not because he hated me, though he might. But he’d witnessed me murdering another shifter. If he lived a quiet life away from other shifters, he might’ve been planning to bolt.
“Thanks. I’m going to take him home.”
“Watch him carefully and offer him plenty of water.” The doctor added that I should bring my mate back when he took his skin so he could run more tests.
That kinda horrified me ‘cause what if he couldn’t ever take his skin, and if he did shift, the drugs might have altered him forever.
Do you think he could become a lion or a tiger?
Not like that. I’ll explain later.
I texted my brothers in our group chat.Meet me at the house. Ten Minutes. Urgent.
My phone lit up with messages.
The house? Are you talking about our home?
We’re out of snacks. Bring more.Of course that was Lake.
Do you know what time it is?Apparently I’d woken up Maynard’s daughter, Luna. Oops!
I’m in bed.
Did you kill someone? We all got notifications about the drug deaths.
I ignored them all, especially about the snacks. Lake would have to buy his own.
The five of us still lived in the family home, as our parents had moved to the countryside when they retired. But our folks were on yet another cruise. I didn’t understand how they could be stuck on a big boat with a lot of people and unable to escape. Ewww!
I held out my hands, and the cat walked into them purring. He snuggled against me as we headed out. Having been in the car twice previously, he understood what to do and settled into what I now thought of as “his” seat.
Not wasting time, I took the shortest route home, and at this late hour, there wasn’t much traffic. Maynard had arrived before us because his car was parked on the street, and my brothers would all be awake and eager to discover why I’d called an emergency meeting.
Thinking back to when Maynard had done the same, I wondered why none of my siblings hadn’t caught on to it being about a mate. But they always said I’d be the last to mate, and I hadn’t told anyone that I’d broken up with the baker.
