Date = 26 December
Place = San Francisco (Mel’s house)
POV - Damion
“Mew!”
A blur of black fur launches itself off the shelf and lands squarely on my shoulder, tiny claws digging straight into tender skin.
“Hell!” I yelp, instinctively grabbing the furry missile and holding it up at arm’s length. The kitten spits, hisses, twists like a demon possessed — all sharp teeth and attitude.
He’s small. He is not friendly.
“Hi, little one,” Mel coos, completely unfazed, reaching up to tap the kitten gently on the nose.
Traitor.
I stare into his bright green eyes. He stares back, unblinking. Judging me. Plotting my death.
And then — the image of him bubbling away in a cooking pot flashes through my mind.
I gag, drop him instantly, and swallow down the upchuck in my throat.
The little bas
