Kitty Raises Hell (Kitty Norville 6)

“Have you checked your phone?”

My phone in my pocket. I’d turned it off before the experiment at Flint House and hadn’t looked at it since. When I did, I found six missed calls. All from Ben.

“I forgot to turn my phone back on after the séance.”

He blinked. “Wait a minute. You guys did another séance?”

“It never really got to the séance stage,” I said, realizing I was just digging the hole deeper. “It was more a demonic possession, really, but we stopped it. And we think we know what’s doing this now.” Always end on a bright note.

Why did I feel like I was trying to explain to my parents why I’d broken curfew? Ben was my husband, not my father, and I hated feeling like this about him.

“You were supposed to stay out of trouble,” he said, scowling, his voice tight, obviously trying not to yell. “You were supposed to call me if you got in trouble or did something that was likely to get you in trouble.”

“I forgot. I’m sorry.” I had an urge to look away, but

I didn’t. I didn’t want to give ground.

He shut his eyes for a moment. “If it were any other time, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But something out there is trying to kill you. When I got back to the condo and you weren’t there, and you hadn’t left a message—” He shook his head. “I could almost kill you myself.”

I didn’t believe it, but he spoke calmly, and there was something in his eyes, amber and wolfish, and his shoulders were bunched up, tense, like hackles. His body language was edging toward ferocious.

“Tina and the others found something,” I said. “Another clue. Maybe another step toward stopping this thing.”

“That’s good,” he said flatly.

Then nothing, for five heartbeats. Six.

“We can’t do anything else tonight. Maybe we should go home and get some sleep.” Cue tail wagging. Imaginary tail wagging. I hoped the thought came through.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Usually when Ben was angry at me, he yelled. We both yelled, and then it all went away. This tamped-down temper—it almost sounded like he’d given up. The problem of the demon almost faded from my attention.

I ducked inside long enough to tell the others to get some sleep and say good night.

We spent twenty minutes of dead silence on the ride home. I was so tense I wanted to scream. Howl. Something. I wanted to stick my tail between my legs and grovel. I’d have to turn Wolf to do that. It would almost be worth it; wolves were so much better at apologizing than people.

Finally, by the time we parked, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I tried apologizing from the parking lot to the condo. Ben walked quickly, keeping a stride ahead of me. Making me beg until we were finally home. I shut the door behind us.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry—how many times do I have to say it?”

“Until it sounds like you actually mean it,” Ben said.

We both turned away at that one. Ben huffed a sigh, ran his hand through his already mussed hair. I crossed my arms and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the stinging.

This was never going to get easier, was it? We were always going to fight like this. Being married to each other didn’t change the fact that both of us were opinionated and stubborn to a fault. We both wanted to be in charge. We both thought we knew best.

I bowed my head. Took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I’ll call you next time.” Be honest, now. “I’ll try to remember.”

I didn’t dare look at him to see how he took this. I listened, took in his scent, tried to sense him, feel the heat of his body. When he spoke at last, there was almost a smile in his voice. “I really hope there isn’t a next time. At least where the demon hunting is concerned.”

Smiling weakly, I looked over my shoulder at him. Then I turned, sidling up to him. Tail low, ears flat—at least if I had them in this form, that was what they’d be doing. It was amazing, though, how much of that attitude the human body could emulate. Slouching, I looked up at him with big puppy-dog eyes.

“Can we go ahead and skip to the making-up part?” I said. Making up, making out . . .

He glared, resisting. Playing hard to get. Still a little angry. So, how much could I get away with? I took a breath through my nose, hoping to catch a scent, a clue.

He was focused on me. His body was saying yes.