Her Purrfect Match

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2018 Jessica Marting

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-695-8

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Audrey Bobak

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For Iris, who didn’t know if the idea of a housecat shifter was ludicrous or hilarious. Now you get to decide.

  HER PURRFECT MATCH

  Romance on the Go ®

  Jessica Marting

  Copyright © 2018

  Prologue

  Maisy’s blue eyes flashed, bright with anger. Emric looked around his home office, trying to keep his search for a wand—any one of them would do right now—as discreetly as possible.

  “Maisy, we only saw each other for a couple of weeks,” he said, trying to diffuse some of the anger radiating off her. “It was your idea to end it, and I was fine with it.”

  “I only ended it because you refused to give me your grandmother’s grimoire!”

  “It’s a family heirloom and the spells in there hardly work!” At least, he hoped those dark magic spells were obsolete. What was her obsession with it, anyway? He was very glad he kept that heirloom in a safe deposit box. It wasn’t magic-proof, but no one, including Maisy or Emric, was foolish enough to flex their magical muscles in front of a bunch of human bank employees to get their hands on it.

  She stalked across the room to face him across his desk. Emric moved away until his back hit the office window, even though the massive piece of furniture separated them. He didn’t want to be anywhere near her right now, not after she broke into his house as pissed off as she was.

  He still wasn’t sure why. Their brief relationship and breakup had been Maisy’s ideas.

  She’s an utter psycho. Too bad he hadn’t realized it until now, when she started waving her hands in the air and … oh, shit. She was casting a spell and Emric didn’t have one at the ready to defend himself.

  “Let’s see how you like this,” Maisy said, and began to chant.

  Emric felt himself slide down the window to the floor, his body no longer under his own control. The unfamiliar, horrifying sensation of bones and muscles shrinking and rearranging themselves ripped through him, but when he tried to scream, all that came out was a strangled yowl.

  He looked down at the floor, now much closer to his face than it had ever been before. He groped for purchase on the hardwood, and another, unfamiliar cry escaped him at the sight of white, furry paws where his hands used to be.

  Maisy’s high-heeled black boots appeared on the other side of the desk and he looked up. “Damn,” she said. “I was trying to turn you into a toad.”

  Emric bolted around Maisy’s feet, faster than he’d ever moved when he still had only two legs. Her footsteps vibrated through the floor, up his paws, and he spied the open door.

  He wasn’t going to let himself be turned into a toad, or worse.

  Emric ran into the chilly autumn night, as fast as all four of his feet could carry him.

  Chapter One

  Grace Frost slowly walked up and down the aisles of the cat adoption room at the Cedar Hills Animal Shelter, her heart heavier than the pet carrier she had in hand. She wanted to take every cat home and pet away those worried looks off their furry faces.

  Picking out a shelter cat was a surprisingly difficult choice. They all looked so sad, their meows picking up intensity when she walked by.

  Focus, she told herself. You want an adult cat, one who isn’t likely to be adopted, one who needs lots of love and cuddles. Well, cuddles when the cat was ready for it. A cat that was less likely to be adopted would probably have trust issues and a tendency to scratch up her furniture.

  One of the shelter volunteers appeared, a smile on her face despite the grim surroundings. “Do you see anyone you like?”

  “All of them,” Grace said.

  “I hear that a lot. Are there features in particular you’re looking for?”

  “One who really needs some love, although I guess you’ve heard that before, too.”

  The volunteer nodded, her smile never wavering.

  A large black-and-white cat with a tuxedo blaze stalked back and forth across his cage, his white paws nearly thundering across the bottom. His green eyes caught Grace’s, and he let out a bellow, demanding to be acknowledged.

  Grace bent down, and the cat’s eyes bored into hers. “Hello,” she said softly.

  The cat stuck a white paw out between the thin bars of the cage, and Grace touched it with a fingertip. “Be careful,” the volunteer said, a note of warning in her voice. “This little fella is … well, difficult.”

  “And not that little.” The cage seemed almost too small for such a large animal. Muscles rippled in his shoulders and back as he paced its short length.

  “He’s a solid twelve or thirteen pounds, I think. All muscle as you can see, which he likes to use whenever someone tries to feed or brush him.”

  Grace’s finger and the cat’s paw still touched, and she stroked the fur on it a little. The cat rubbed his head against the bars, and a loud purr vibrated through his body.

  “Well, I’ll be,” said the volunteer. “He’s never done that before.”

  Grace looked at the sign clipped to the cat’s cage. “‘Mittens,’” she read aloud. “‘Found as a stray, would not do well in a home with children or the elderly.’”

  “He’s a bit ornery,” said the volunteer. “He left a doozy of a scratch on my arm when I tried to give him a treat.”

  The volunteer’s warning aside, Grace couldn’t shake the feeling that this cat needed to go home with her. “Hey,” she said to him, still keeping her voice quiet. “Want to go home with me?”

  Mittens meowed.

  “I have a nice bed waiting for you there, some toys and catnip.”

  He meowed again, and she could swear he understood her.

  “I’d like to take Mittens home,” Grace said to the volunteer, rising to her feet.

  “You’re sure about that? He still has to be neutered, just so you know. We can give you a discount on it if you bring him here for the procedure.”

  Mittens’s wail pierced Grace’s eardrums, and all sounds in the cat adoption room ceased. The volunteer cringed at the noise.

  “Of course,” Grace said. “I’ll book an appointment today before we leave.”

  The relief was palpable on the volunteer’s face at Grace’s words, and she suspected that Mittens might be more of a handful than she’d been led to believe. “Let’s get started on the paperwork then, shall we?”

  ****

  Mittens strolled out of the carrier as soon as Grace opened it, taking in her small condo with the careless disdain only a cat could muster. He sniffed around her couch and jumped up, immediately settling in. He wrapped his tail around his large body and watched her expectantly.

  Well, that was odd for a cat in his new home, but Grace would take it. She’d been looking forward to having a pet and expected a cat would take weeks to adjust to living in a new home.

  Should she keep the name Mittens? It was kind of cute, as were his white paws.

  He didn’t move from the couch as she tried to tempt him into playing with a couple of toys and only showed a little interest in the treats she offer
ed him. At least he wasn’t scratching her, she thought. Mittens let her pet him, rolling on to his back so she could scratch his belly, before batting her hand away and falling asleep.

  He stayed asleep until the Chinese takeout she ordered arrived, when he came to life: meowing, paws batting at cartons, and his nose poking her as he demanded a taste.

  “I think the MSG and garlic are bad for you, Mittens,” Grace said, and turned on the TV. “Cut that out.”

  It’s been less than a day since you brought Mittens home and you’re already watching Netflix with him while eating a pile of Chinese food.

  The realization hit her when she stuck her fork into a knot of noodles and shrimp. Grace knew she was boring—that was one of the excuses Jason gave when he left her—but she hadn’t expected to fall into the cat-lady stereotype so soon.

  You didn’t think about that when you went to the animal shelter this afternoon?

  Well, no. She wanted to give a needy animal a home. That was another reason Jason broke up with her. He claimed she was too soft-hearted.

  Well, fuck him. Would a soft-hearted person say that?

  Probably not to his face. Even if he deserved it.

  She sighed and picked out an episode of a sci-fi series to watch. Mittens tried to lean over her hand, tongue out as he tried to taste her noodles. “Mittens!” she said. “No, bad kitty!” She nudged him off the couch. “Those are my noodles!”

  Mittens jumped back up on the cushions. Grace gently pushed him away again. This time he stayed on the floor, his green eyes glowering at her.

  His gaze was a little intense, even for a cat’s. Grace broke eye contact and turned back to the TV.

  ****

  Mittens followed her into the bedroom when she finally went to bed, and she patted the bedspread, urging him to jump up. She’d wanted a lap cat, after all, and it looked like she might have one, albeit a lap cat who wanted to steal her food. But that was what they all did.

  She closed the curtains against the unnaturally bright light of the full moon outside before climbing into bed. She scratched Mittens’s ears and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m glad you picked me out at the shelter,” she said, rubbing his face. He responded with a deep purr.

  “We’ll go back in a few days for your neutering, but I promise, we’ll come home after that.”

  Mittens stiffened, and Grace swore there was a human intelligence reflected in his eyes. He stopped purring and pulled away, settling at the foot of the bed, away from her.

  “Goodnight to you, too, Mr. Grumpy.” She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Two

  Oh, thank every deity in existence and then some.

  If Emric’s recollection of shape-shifting spells was correct, the obnoxiously bright full moon should break his curse any minute now, provided he could get in its glow. He was pretty sure that was how it worked, although he’d never had any occasion to turn anyone into a cat. Or toad, he thought, remembering how angry Maisy had been at her mistake. It would have been much easier for her to keep a toad in her possession than a wily cat.

  He needed to get in the moonlight to reverse the spell, and the small cushioned window seat in Grace’s bedroom provided the perfect place to do it. The vertical blinds in the living room would make too much noise when he tried to duck behind them, and he wanted to shift back to human form and get back to his house, provided his crazy ex hadn’t burned it down, without Grace waking up. He really needed to get back to his old life, preferably before she had him neutered.

  A shudder rippled through his feline body at the notion. He’d fought the animal shelter’s volunteers and veterinarians as much as he could in an attempt to stave off the surgery. He wasn’t sure how much of that could be reversed once he was human again.

  Emric tried to nudge away the curtains with his nose, then extended his front paws to grab on to the cushion and haul himself up. He miscalculated, though, and his paws brought down the entire curtain rod with a crash.

  Maybe Grace was a light sleeper. He prayed for that as the moonlight hit his furry face, and with no small amount of relief welcomed the sensation of his bones and muscles pulling apart and knitting themselves back together.

  “Oh, what the fuck!”

  Not a light sleeper. Shit.

  Emric remained crouched on the carpeted floor and looked up to see Grace sitting up in bed, shocked. He desperately hoped she didn’t have a gun anywhere nearby. He didn’t trust his mouth to form words just yet and say a spell that would deflect any bullets.

  Grace tossed the covers off her and nearly leaped out of bed. She flipped on the bedroom light, revealing baggy men’s pajamas that hid the nice shape he knew she had. “Mittens?” she said, her voice a breathless whisper.

  Emric tried to clear his throat, a meow almost rising from him almost on instinct. “No,” he said, his throat sore and his voice a croak. “Not Mittens.” He tried again. “Please don’t neuter me.”

  ****

  Emric only remembered that he was naked when Grace handed him her bathrobe, a bright pink terrycloth number with a frayed belt. He’d take it. Being human was a lot colder than he remembered. He almost missed his fur.

  “So you’re Emric,” Grace said for the second time. She sat primly on the edge of the couch next to him, anxiety radiating off her in nearly palpable waves.

  “I am.”

  “You’re definitely not a cat.”

  It was the understatement of the year, but he didn’t point that out. “No, I’m a sorcerer.”

  “I’ve stopped trying to convince myself that I’ve gone crazy or I’m still sleeping, so let’s hear it.” She waved her hand, as if urging him to get on with his story.

  He’d barely started it. “It was a bad breakup. Barely even a breakup, actually. We had a fling.”

  “Okay.”

  “She broke up with me after I refused to hand over an old grimoire of my grandmother’s and then she unleashed hell. Or she tried to.” His stomach growled, a reminder that he hadn’t eaten real food in weeks. “You wouldn’t happen to have some of that shrimp lo mein left over, would you?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You just transformed into a human again and all you can think about is your stomach?”

  “And my dick, which you made an appointment to cut off.”

  That comment drew a small smile from her, and he relaxed a little. He needed to keep the conversation light and non-threatening if he was going to get anywhere with her.

  “I have leftovers,” she said and stood up. He followed her to the kitchen, where she dropped piles of Chinese food on a plate and stuck it in the microwave to heat up. “I guess I’ll have to cancel the surgery,” she said.

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  She put on the kettle. “Want some tea?”

  He didn’t, but he didn’t want to be rude, either. She hadn’t freaked out too badly, nor had she called the police, and she was feeding him not half an hour after he shifted back into human form in her bedroom. “Yes, please.”

  “Chamomile okay?”

  He nodded. He watched her as she set out mismatched mugs and dropped teabags in them, then presented him with the reheated Chinese food at the table. Its top was decoupaged with pages from Marvel Comics. He recognized a few. “Please tell me this isn’t an original Secret Wars cover,” he said.

  “It’s a reproduction.” She poured boiling water in the mugs, then brought them over to the table. She sat down opposite him.

  “Thank the gods,” he said. “I’d have to put a curse on you on general principles if that wasn’t the case.”

  “I didn’t know wizards read comic books.”

  “I prefer the terms ‘sorcerer’ or ‘magic practitioner.’ And I don’t read them much these days, to be honest.”

  “My mistake. Anyway, this was supposed to be a gift for an ex, but we broke up before I put on the final coat of sealant.” He must have given her a puzzled look
, because she continued, “I’m an artist. Mostly graphic design work to pay the bills, but I do get to do some fun stuff occasionally.” She shifted in her seat, and he realized he’d touched on a raw nerve when she mentioned her ex. “So, Mr. Sorcerer, am I going to have to deal with an angry witch casting spells on my condo?”

  Emric took his time chewing and swallowing some of the lo mein, actions that Grace clearly noticed. She pinned him with a hard stare. Finally, he said, “Hopefully not. I can put wards on your home so she won’t find us.”

  “Us?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, dreading her reaction at what he was going to have to tell her. “Maisy may be the jealous type.”

  “I can see that. Crazy and jealous tend to go hand-in-hand.”

  “Since she didn’t track me down at the animal shelter, I assume she doesn’t know where I am, and since she hasn’t flown in through the window on a broomstick, she doesn’t know I’ve shifted back to human form.”

  “About that. How did that happen?”

  “The moon,” he said. “Transformation spells are usually broken by exposure to a full moon, which I couldn’t do when I was at the shelter.”

  “How did you end up at the shelter?” she asked.

  “I live outside the city limits,” Emric said. “My nearest neighbor is nearly half a mile away. I ran there and my neighbor brought me to the shelter in the morning when I looked as pathetic as I could outside his kitchen window.”

  She nodded, seeming to accept his explanation, then brought the subject back to his ex. “So how much do I need to worry about Maisy?”

  “I don’t know.” He leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes fixed on a Spider-Man panel. “I do need your help, though.”

  “No shit. You don’t have any ID or clothing, and you were a cat an hour ago.”