How to Tame a Cat (ManxMan)

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Interrogation

"Aw, sugar-lips, you wound me," I tease, putting my hand over my heart in mock pain. Dylan is the one snickering now when Markus just glares.

"Try not to hurry back," he growls, though his light tone proves that he is only joking.

Erika smirks at Markus. "Man up," she says, before smiling genuinely at me. "Drive safe."

- - - - - - -

When I arrive back at the cabin, I am relieved to find that my home is not torn to shreds. In fact, it looks like she barely touched anything. That is the first sign something is wrong.

The second sign is when I find my sister, still asleep in my bed. While I know that she is the type who never sleeps past nine, even on a weekend, I do not wake her. Instead, I pull the sheets up to cover her better. Or I would have, had I not seen the scarring.

All along her stomach, there are thin scars. They have clearly been healing, as Weres do not scar easily, but they would have had to be bad if they still look so nasty and jagged. Considering her natural healing ability, she would have had to have gotten these while in New York.

Wanting to make sure there are not more, I gently pull her t-shirt up a little to reveal more of her perfectly flat stomach. The scabbed over skin I find that makes me feel sick to my stomach at the same time as it makes my blood boil. Who would dare to hurt my sister?

I withdraw my hand and am about to cover her up with the blankets to let her sleep longer when her hand suddenly wraps around my wrist. "What time is it?" She asks groggily.

"Where did you get those scars?" I demand instead of answering. I was going to let her sleep, but if she is already awake, I have no problem keeping her up. "It wasn't your chew toy of a boyfriend, was it?"

Her eyes fly open and she looks down at her exposed belly. "What? No, Jeremy wouldn't, no," Heather says, tugging her shirt down to hide the scabs and scars. "I was just, uh, helping a friend and things got a little heated."

"You're not in trouble, are you?" I ask after a moment. While it does not sound like she is lying, that does not mean she is telling me everything. In fact, I know she is hiding something. Getting information from her is like pulling teeth.

"No, I'm good," she replies, a fake smile on her face.

I would push for a real answer, but then she would only shut me out for the day and this is one of my few chances to spend time with her. "What do you want to do today?" I ask, changing the subject before she gets the chance to push me away.

Her smile becomes genuine, letting me know that I made the right choice. "Breakfast?" She suggests as she gets out of the bed. I move out of the way to give her some room to stretch. Knowing her, she would smack me while stretching – her favorite excuse – if I am in reach.

"I already ate," I admit, "but I would never say no to a second breakfast."

Heather snorts softly as she raises her arms above her head and leans back a little. The scars on her belly become visible as her shirt rises up, causing me no end of protective brotherly pain. If only she would tell me who did it. I do not doubt her able to protect herself, but if she gets in over her head, I want to be able to help her in every way that I can. And I cannot do that if I have no idea who to kill first.

"Give me a few minutes to get ready," she says, which is sister language for 'I need thirty minutes of you not bothering me so I can look pretty'.

I spend the next twenty-five and a half minutes lying on the couch, counting the seconds. It felt like hours. "Please tell me my bathroom doesn't smell like your disgusting perfume," I whine, earning a giggle form the bathroom's general direction.