Kitty and the Midnight Hour (Kitty Norville 1)

Meg said, “I don’t believe you.”

Bingo. I got her. “Which part? That this guy exists, or that I—little old me—was able to kill him?” I stood without using my hands. “I ripped his fucking throat out, Meg. You want me to tell you what it tasted like? Should I demonstrate?”

That was way too cocky. I was starting to sound like Carl. Too late to back down now.

Meg moved a step behind Carl.

A thrill warmed me, a static shock up my spine. I hadn’t even touched her yet, but she was scared. Of me. I could breathe on her right now and she might scream. I narrowed my gaze and smiled.

This was why Carl got off on being a bully. This was how it felt to be strong.

“If you want me dead, Meg, why don’t you just challenge me face-to-face? Don’t you have the guts?” I circled Carl, moving toward her. She moved as well, keeping him between us.

“Kitty, that’s enough,” Carl said.

“No, it isn’t. I’m calling her out. I want to challenge her. What do you say, Meg?”

She stared at me, her body still. “I think you’re crazy.”

“I’m pissed off is what I am! I mean, what the hell were you thinking, dealing with that guy?”

Still, she didn’t deny it, didn’t confirm it. Didn’t say anything.

It was going to happen. I could feel it, a charge in the air, our glares colliding. My blood rushed; I could feel my pulse pounding in my brain. My throat was tight, holding back a growl. She closed her hands, preparing.

Then Carl stepped between us. “I won’t let you do this. Stand down, Kitty. Now.”

“And why should I listen to you? Where were you all those times people tried to kill me? You’re useless, Carl! I don’t owe you anything!”

Carl took a couple of steps toward me. His posture was stiff, arms slightly bent, ready to swing fists.

However much I wanted to back away, I held my ground. Even my Wolf didn’t cringe at his approach. Even she was too angry.

“I don’t want to fight you,” I said, my voice tight. “Let me challenge her, Carl. I thought you wanted me to challenge her.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

With a calculating look and a thin smile, Meg turned her gaze away from me. She stepped toward Carl, touched his back, and put her face agai

nst his shoulder. She glanced at me from the shelter of his body, then closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek down his shoulder, holding his arm, clinging to him.

She showed herself submissive to him. She put herself in his power; then, it followed, he would protect her. She was asking him to fight her fight.

My jaw opened, disbelieving. “Were you always this much of a bitch?”

That was a stupid question.

“I know my place,” she said. Slowly, she crouched, until she was kneeling at Carl’s feet. She gripped his leg, pressing her face to his thigh.

And Carl, insecure dominant that he was, fell for it. He swelled, appearing to grow a few inches in all directions as he puffed out his chest and cocked his arms, preparing to fight.

Oh, please.

“Come on, Carl,” I said. “She’s putting on an act. She’s scared that I might actually have a chance against her.”

“You challenge my mate, you fight me.”

“And what about everything she’s done? Giving the photos to Arturo, sending Zan after me—and that doesn’t even touch on what she did to James. She wanted to kill you! Why protect her after all that?”