Chapter 37

Fangs and Fur- Beta Read Along

Toad snarled, his hackles rising. The summoning woman had to be lying. Dili’s scent wafted through every door, lingered on every blanket, and sunk into every surface of the cottage—like home should smell—but he also scented the stale sweetness of tea on her breath. He heard her heartbeat, a whisper of sound, steady though faint.

Dili had to be here. And Hadrian had to be, too. His contractual master’s scent entangled with his witch’s in an intimate bouquet, but Toad found no trace of blood magic blending them together.

The black cat’s whiskers stiffened with certainty; the Summoning woman deceived him.

He felt just as confident that Dili would not ignore him so without good reason.

His contractual master, though, had earned a serious swatting. There was no reason whatsoever for the vampire to remain silent when Toad called out with both voice and mind. The least Hadrian could have done was assure him, if not explain.

The hours had clawed Toad’s patience to shreds, and while he could tolerate nearly anything for Dili’s sake, his pride could not suffer such disrespect from Hadrian.

Toad had had quite enough.

The familiar sprang from Nile’s chest, taking care not to dig his claws into her fragile skin. As he leapt from the floor to bounce off the chimney to skip the stairs and duck under the railing, all within the space of Nile’s pathetic, startled yelping, the familiar regretted waiting so long to rouse his witch and vampire. He was fast enough to bite Hadrian on the toe hard enough to wake him and make it back downstairs before the summoning woman could pick herself off the floor.

All four paws landed on a sturdy exposed beam, and Toad rebounded with force, stretching his front paws out—perhaps claws extended more than he should have. He was rather incensed—to push through Dili’s bedroom door, left just a crack open as usual.

The door crashed back, and Toad sailed across the familiar room, dark with twilight shadows. There were all of Dili’s books, lined neatly on the shelf but stacked haphazardly next to her rocking chair. The pile of mending sat in the usual basket next tot he door. A chilly breeze fluttered the thin drape through the always open window.

But the pillow that was too thick, that Dili still insisted on keeping, wasn’t wedged between the nightstand and the mattress where she always shoved it while she slept. Nor were the sheets mussed or the blankets kicked off.

The bed was empty. Cold. Dark.

Toad froze as if the summoning woman had used her magic on him again, but it was only the icy sinking dread in his stomach that rooted him to the spot where Dili should have been.

Dili couldn’t be gone. Her scent filled his every breath. He heard her in every room. He could feel her so close as if her fingers stroked his fur. He could taste her in the air.

But he could not find her. Not when he tore through the cottage with such great speed as to rattle every bottle on its shelf and shake every frame on the walls. Not the first, second, or third time.

Dili couldn’t be gone.

She was right there. With him. With home.

“I suppose you believe me now,” Nile said morosely.

Toad hissed, though he had barely heard her murmuring. He hardly cared to notice her at all, despite her grave intrusion. The summoning woman clutched her knees to her chest and rocked gently back and forth on the stone floor, in the same spot where he’d pinned her. As long as she kept her mouth shut, she was no threat to him, just a distraction.

“I am just try—”

Toad rounded on her, tail low and thrashing, and bared his fangs inches from the tip of her nose. The summoning woman clenched her eyes shut and trembled with fear.

“Okay,” she whimpered. “Okay. I’ll be quiet.”

Toad glared at her wrinkled eyelids, a low moan in the back of his throat.

Nile stiffened, then slumped over sideways so she curled up in a ball on the floor. It would have amused Toad had he not been furious. And confused. And fur-puffingly scared.

Not that would ever allow such a reaction to show in front of Nile.

Not that she’d see his fear even if he showed it—impossible—given how she was always squeezing her eyes shut around him.

“Myladymademeswearabloodoath.”

Nile blurted the words so quickly that the sounds crammed together. Toad, with his feline ears and vampiric sense, had to pause to make sense of it.

The familiar pounced on top of Nile’s cowering form. He kept his claws carefully seated in fabric rather than hooked into skin. He stared into the clenched eyes of the summoning woman and kept his silence.

Eventually, Nile peeked up at him. “I swore to serve you.”

The familiar glared down at the sliver of one eye that dared look up at him. She had to be lying.

When Toad didn’t hiss or growl, Nile licked her dry lips. That one eye widened a fraction more.

“My lady made me swear to serve you and all your progeny, and in exchange, she will keep one of my secrets.”

Nile uncurled one fist from her chest, and Toad noticed the angry cut across the woman’s palm for the first time. He sniffed and found traces of his witch’s blood along the thin scab and angry flesh.

Nile wasn’t lying. At least not about swearing a blood oath with Dili, but he could not take her word for the contents of that oath. He refused to. The thought of Nile serving him and any future kittens was enough to turn his stomach.

Though, thinking of his stomach at all sent a wave of hunger rolling through him. Instinct dilated his pupils, and the scent of blood filled his nostrils.

Blood magic suggested he bite.

Toad turned up his nose at such a vulgar idea. He’d have to make do with something else until he found Dili. He could tell from just a whiff that Dili’s synthetic brew tasted far better.

He trotted toward the kitchen counter closest to the garden window, where Dili stored jars of cookies, nuts, and some homemade treats for his exclusive use. She didn’t even put the lid on that jar, as Toad was always encouraged to help himself. She’d often make whatever she had on hand that wouldn’t spoil too quickly, but unfortunately, that also meant she made small batches.

The black cat was disappointed to find only half a biscuit left from the last batch she’d made with venison. He fished it out of the jar and prepared to carry it out into the garden, where he would munch on it and contemplate an evening hunt. He’d jumped silently from the counter toward the back door when a surprised scoff made him whirl around again.

Nile had sat up and gaped at him with a tilted head.

Cats do not make mistakes. Especially not cats on their ninth life who had the benefit of becoming a vampire on top of the blessing of being a cat.

So, it could not have been a mistake that Toad’s hunger had consumed him entirely. Such singular focus around another was only truly possible among those he trusted, and those he trusted could not hurt him. Only the latter was true in the summoning woman’s case, though it bothered him.

He jerked his head toward the back door. Even the meek half-siren should understand such simple communication, and if she were sworn to him as she’d absurdly claimed, then she would have to act.

Nile scrambled over without further prompting, and despite her compliance, Toad remained unconvinced.

Dili would never resign him and his kittens to such a woman. She couldn’t have. But until his witch could say otherwise, Toad only had the untrustworthy woman’s word and his own intuition to guide him—which was plenty, of course.

The black cat’s tail swished as Nile let them both out into the garden as dark night descended over the horizon, then closed the door behind them. He was glad to see that this time, thankfully, she handled it with great care.

Thank you for reading!

This chapter concludes the Fangs and Fur Beta Read-Along. It was modified and shortened to remove hints and cliff-hangers related to the plot to come.

All chapters will be available until April 1rst.

If you would like to continue on this early reading journey with Dili, Toad, and Hadrian, please sign up as an ARC on the main Fangs and Fur page.