Cat Scratch Fever

Dedication

To my family, for being there for me always. And the readers who make it possible for me to keep doing what I love. Last, but never least, to Sasha, for being the best editor in the world.

Chapter One

Surely fate couldn’t be so big a bitch to throw her into the middle of a heat cycle when she was minutes away from facing off against the biggest jerk-off known to werekind? Hell, probably humankind too.

The unfortunate answer to that question sucker-punched Lilly Prescott as a giant wave of prickly warmth undulated through her. Damn it, perfect timing had never been her strong suit, but this was just plain pathetic. Knuckles cramping, she gripped the leather-wrapped steering wheel of her hybrid Ford Escape and tried to focus on anything besides the lusty ripples of pleasure spiraling through every cell in her body. She squirmed in her seat. The crotch of her silk thong pulled snug, intensifying the sensations. “Oh crap.”

The road leading to Morgan’s Ridge appeared. Gritting her teeth in fierce determination, she veered left onto the private road and bumped over the snow moguls not yet cleared by the plows. Thanks to the winter storm that’d blanketed most of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula earlier in the week, several inches of fresh powder filled the tire ruts indenting the thick crust of old snow.

The cabin wasn’t far—less than a mile. Damn it, she’d ridden out longer stretches than this before. The SUV bumped over another mogul, and the thong rubbed in a taunting glide across her clit.

“Shit, shit,
shit
.” No way would she last. She stomped on the brake, and the vehicle fishtailed toward the side of the road. The second the SUV slid to a stop, she rammed the gears into park and unhooked her seat belt. She fumbled with the buttons on her wool trousers, her decision to forgo a skirt in favor of appearing less feminine for her upcoming showdown suddenly a huge bonehead idea. Almost as moronic as forgetting to pack the herbal supplements that helped counterbalance her chaotic hormonal shifts.

A part of her couldn’t believe she was about to get busy with herself on a deserted road in the middle of the freakin’ Michigan wilderness. Talk about one of the lowest moments of her life. Yeesh. Buttons freed, she shimmied the trousers down slightly and slipped her thong to the side. Closing her eyes against the pathetic shamefulness she’d been reduced to, she slicked her fingers over her throbbing flesh. An instantaneous orgasm crashed over her. She bit her bottom lip, smothering her relieved groan. Before the quakes even faded to a pleasant glow, the hot, sexual flush roared back with a vengeance.

Oh bloody hell.

“Lamebrain mutt is walking in circles.” Ducking his head to avoid getting jabbed in the eye by a low-hanging pine bough, Dante Morgan continued tracking the paw prints stamped in the deep snow. If Chevy—his two-hundred-pound Great Dane—kept getting lost like this, he was strapping a GPS unit on the directionally challenged dog.

The paw prints led to a fallen fir tree. On the far side of the hollowed trunk, Chevy’s tracks continued, followed by several sets of smaller tracks. Red fox cubs. Visualizing Chevy fleeing a mob of the much smaller creatures, Dante grunted. “That’s my boy, the gutless wonder.”

Flipping up the collar of his Sherpa-lined jacket, he stepped over the tree, snapping the branches beneath the heels of his insulated boots. His breath puffed in front of his face, visible proof of the lowering temps. Why the hell couldn’t Chevy decide to get lost in July or August? Or any other month that didn’t come with subzero windchill.

An arctic breeze ruffled through the pines, and Dante halted, sniffing the air. A feline was in the area. Not the standard domesticated kind possessing a collar and fluffy tail either. This was a were-cat—lynx. Or lynchat, to be more precise. He knew with all certainty he’d fingered the exact breed because the damn lynchats were a constant thorn in his side. Little surprise one of them would show up on his land. He had a good inkling which of the pain-in-the-furry-asses it was too. More than any of the others of her ilk, Lilly Prescott had elevated the art of bugging the shit out of him to a staggering level.

Grumbling, Dante stalked through the alley of pines. The scent spiking the air grew more pronounced, more…arousing. His steps faltered and saliva pooled in his mouth, his cock stiffening in interest.

Shit, maybe it wasn’t Lilly. No way in hell anyone that aggravating could smell this intoxicating. Oblivious to everything but the heady bouquet playing havoc with his supersensitive olfactory system, he edged toward the trees dotting the base of the hill. A tan SUV straddled the side of the road and a snowdrift. Vaporous exhaust billowed from the tailpipe—proof the vehicle hadn’t been abandoned.

Fuck. It
was
Lilly. He’d recognize that vehicle anywhere, since he made a practice of hoofing it in the opposite direction on the rare occasion he crossed its path. So why were his boots still crunching in the snow, drawing him closer to the SUV as if he were entranced?

He blamed it on her damn scent. Faced with that potent, alluring smell, there was no way he could resist. He slipped from the concealing pines and jumped the few feet to the road. Landing with predatory ease, he crouched low and eyed the idling vehicle.

A muffled shriek pierced the stillness, and his muscles tensed.
What the fuck?
It sounded like someone was getting tortured. Keeping low, he crept forward, staying out of range of the rearview and side mirrors. The brake lights flashed, and he froze. When the vehicle remained in place, he released his breath and moved in closer.

Not giving himself time to question the sanity of charging to the rescue of the one female responsible for a shitload of his headaches, he hunkered next to the side of the vehicle. Hoping he’d guesstimated the blind spots correctly, he lifted slightly and peered inside the window. No one in the backseat. He glanced toward the front. From this angle, he couldn’t determine who sat up there or what possible threat they provided. Ducking his head below the window line, he shuffled toward the driver’s side door.

A moan filtered through the window and squeezed like a fist around his still-rigid cock. He clenched his jaw. Christ, what kind of a perv popped a woody at the sound of another’s agony? Only the moan hadn’t seemed so much pained as…desperate. Needy.

His heart thumping wildly, he slowly lifted from his crouch and peeked inside the window. He went dead motionless at the sight greeting him. Lilly Prescott was reclined in the driver’s seat, her eyes clamped shut and one hand busy between her legs. Enthralled, he watched the frantic motion of her fingers.

A narrow strip of dark blonde fuzz arrowed low on her exposed pussy, pointing the way to treasures farther south. The delicious scent of her arousal clung heavy in his nostrils, and he battled the overwhelming urge to yank open the door and bury his face in her lap. He licked his lips when her index finger plunged inside her dripping pussy and she wiggled her ass against the seat.

Yeah, baby, stroke deep. You’re almost there.
Shit,
he
was almost there. Two more seconds and he’d be coming right along with Lilly.

Out of nowhere, a massive weight slammed into Dante, tackling him to the ground. An exuberant
woof
blasted into his ear. Grunting, he wrestled with Chevy’s flailing paws and dodged a rough, wet swipe from the Great Dane’s lolling tongue. Dante’s gaze whipped to the SUV, and he spied Lilly’s wide blue eyes gaping at him in horror.

He struggled to his elbows, but before he reached a sitting position, the vehicle lurched forward, tires spinning. “Lilly, wait—”

The SUV gained traction and plowed on, pelting him with a shower of snow. By the time he managed to clear most of the cold, white powder from his face, the SUV’s taillights were distant red lights. Grimacing, he shot a look at the enormous dog rolling blissfully in the snow. “See, boy, this is why we stay clear of cats. They’re too damn prickly.” Even if they did smell like dessert.

Lilly didn’t slow down until she reached the cabin’s driveway. “I can’t believe that son of a bitch was peeping on me!”

Clearly Dante Morgan didn’t get the whole notion of privacy. Growling, she careened to a stop in front of her cabin’s small porch. After securing the parking brake, she jumped out and stomped to the front door. Fingers trembling from a combination of shock and fury, she fumbled the key into the lock. Kicking the majority of snow free of her suede boots, she trooped inside and flipped on the overhead light. She barely registered the cabin’s tidy appearance or the fresh citrus scent lingering from Melanie’s recent cleaning, and instead continued to fume.

How the hell was she going to face Dante now? Her plans of remaining cool and collected while she brokered for the millionth time for property that should rightfully belong to her had just gone up in smoke. “This is just freaking
great
.” She yanked her scarf off and tossed it on the leather club chair. Her white parka soon joined it.

She made it halfway across the main living area when the opening notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony sounded. Pivoting, she stalked back to the chair and fished her cell phone from the parka’s deep pocket. She scanned the Caller ID before jabbing the talk button. “No need to send search and rescue, Kinsey, I made it up here fine.”

“I had no intention of doing any such thing.”

Lilly snorted at her sister’s innocent tone. “Who are you trying to kid? You have the fire and sheriff’s department on speed dial.”

“Lots of people do. It’s called being prepared.” Kinsey didn’t need to be in the room to deliver a proper chastisement.

“Sure, but most people don’t have the numbers for every single fire station in the damn state programmed into their phone.”

“You’re grouchier than usual. Something happen?”

Lilly bit back a soft sigh. Nothing snuck past Kinsey. Sometimes it really sucked being related to a shrink. “I had a run-in with Dante Morgan.”

A lengthy silence preceded Kinsey’s reply. “I knew I should have been the one to make the trip up there. You have no patience when it comes to Dante.”

“Yeah, well, this time it went way beyond stretching my patience.” Lilly’s grip tightened around the cell phone until it threatened to snap the device in two. “He’s a perverted peeping Tom. I’d report him to the sheriff if he weren’t related to the bastard.” That was the problem. In this neck of the woods, everyone was related to a damn Morgan.

“What happened?”

Keeping the graphic details to a minimum, Lilly filled her sister in on the
incident
.

It took a suspiciously long time for Kinsey to speak up. When she did, her voice sounded strained, as if she were having a hard time keeping her mirth reined in. “That must have been…um…embarrassing.”

“Yah think?” Lilly scowled. “And so help me, if the tiniest chuckle comes out of you, I’m hanging up.”

“Sis, I think you should talk this out. Leaving moments like that to fester will…” A smothered giggle trickled through the speaker.

Glaring, Lilly punched the End button and tossed the phone on top of her parka. Despite the relative coolness of the room, heat shivered across her skin.
Damn it.
The edginess was back full force. Of all the times to forget to pack her supplements. Hoping to track down a stray bottle somewhere in the cabin, she hurried into the small kitchen. Another flash of seductive warmth struck while she was rifling through the cupboards. Squeezing her thighs together, she tried riding it out, but the overwhelming sensation refused to be ignored.

Panting and sweating, she raced into the master bedroom. She struggled with her zipper, but before she even got a decent grip on the metal tab, an image of Dante Morgan’s annoyingly gorgeous face unexpectedly loomed onto her mental big screen. A warning tremble coursed through her clit seconds before an orgasm of magnificent proportions slammed into her. She cried out, her knees wobbling. Pinpricks of dazzling light swam in her vision as the intense waves shimmered throughout her body. She slumped on the end of the bed before her legs completely gave out.

Gasping for breath, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Hard to say which was more disturbing—experiencing the most mind-blowing climax of her life without actually touching herself, or having it happen with Dante Morgan invading her head.

Chapter Two

Hope Falls—the closest thing resembling a town in this Hicksville, USA wilderness—consisted of a post office, a grocery store and a bowling alley with a bar attached. The one and only time Lilly had ventured inside the bar, she’d witnessed a couple of local boys going at each other with bowling pins, proving once and for all that a fifth of Jim Beam, a full moon and redneck werewolves were a recipe for disaster.

She coasted into the grocery store’s parking lot and took the first cleared parking space she came across. Winding her scarf tight, she dashed toward the sliding doors. Inside the store, the PA system still piped Christmas music. Someone needed to tell the manager it was the freakin’ end of January.