Runaway (MxM)

Chapter THREE- "I don't stink."

I was able to turn my head, and he let me, I glanced back at Sten, my tail slowly swishing in the space between us.

I was curious about him, he was only the second person i'd ever met. The alpha was well... an alpha but Sten was something different. They looked much the same but acted completely different.

There was a softness in his light brown eyes and despite the coarse and deep voice it was almost... soothing.

He seemed nicer than Dominicus, not having such a firm hand and an more easy going nature.

My ears twitched, my eyes continuing to watch him.

He tilted his head and raised a brow at me. "You've got one hell of a stare there Pepper." he commented and I finally blinked, breaking our gaze.

I forgot how confrontational staring can be for werewolves, cats giving a good stare is unnerving, it demands attention. We've mastered the art of a dirty stare, and a range other stares as well, we communicate a lot more visually than they would, our vocal range more limited because of that.

I let out a puff of air from my nose and turned my head back around.

Dominicus was almost finished dressing, a pair of faded blue bootcut jeans and half unbuttoned checkered shirt on his broad frame, showing off his large pecks and the beginning of his abs covered in a dusting of dark hair. The sleeves were also rolled up to his elbows, showing off his thick arms still marred with my scratches.

He was tying the laces of some well-worn looking brown boots, foot
propped up on the step of the black truck.

My father was dropping a mix of bags and suitcases at the bottom of the concrete steps outside of the front door, disappearing and re-appearing with more.

My possessions.

I sighed, my ears lowering, guess he was wasting no time in getting rid of me, I'd always thought that he was disappointed that he got a kitten instead of a pup.

I never liked his type of play, his wolf much too large to be a decent playmate, his gentle pushes more like hard shoves.

I'd always hide under a cabinet or climb up high when he'd try to play with me when I was younger, he'd long given up by now and mostly left me alone, unless I needed to be disciplined.

I cooked the meals, I cleaned and washed, both dishes and clothes. I did all the chores in the house, I tended to the garden and hoovered.

They'd have to do it now, I hope they forgot how.

My mother wasn't a good cook and I'd never seen my father try, the most he'd do in the kitchen was put the kettle on or open a bottle of scotch or a can of beer.

I liked things to be tidy, it might be my cat nature or my own preference, I don't know.

Wolves tended to be messy, they always had to be doing something, and were hungry most of the time.

I was content to sleep or just relax.

Father dumped the last of the bags on the steps, staying outside, so I'd gathered there was no more. He better have put my blanket in one of those bags, I'd had it since I was a kitten and couldn't sleep without it, my smell was so ingrained to the fabric, it gone so soft from the many washes, it was my comfort.

Dominicus straightened and strode over to the bags and suitcases, easily lifting multiple at a time and starting to load them in the bed of the truck.

I wondered if they'd brought a travel box for me, because I didn't plan on shifting back to my human form, I could defend myself better as a cat.