The Kitty Cat's Mates (ManxMen)

24 | Son of a-

They planned this.

"All right," he said.

Gabriela beamed, feeling as if she had escaped death. The three people behind King dramatically gasped, all except for Pandora, who looked indifferent but was worried about his cousin's ass. She loved King, but she also wanted to act like some sort of fairy godmother; give them a chance. Who knows, if they were his mates, then perhaps King would see this in a different sense in the future.

The four had already withdrawn to their stationed room. King's face went paler as they went further and further away from theirs.

"Just how far is this room exactly?"

"Oh," Gabriela exclaimed. She pushed her glasses up again. "w-were actually near."

King felt like a ticking clockwork that was about to explode at any moment. He mentally threw fuck here, threw fuck there, he threw fuck everywhere.

Gabriela stopped. "W-were here," she said.

King narrowed his eyes at the tall door beside them and gulped. But that wasn't what he was worried about. His gaze slowly traveled to the corners of his eyes, to where the three doors next to his stand, all intimidating despite being a seven feet tall block of wood in the wall. The familiar scents were what he was actually worried about. He had a bad feeling about this. Very bad.

Gabriela pushed through the door, and King's eyebrows popped up, lips parting.

"This my room?" King asked, walking in like a turtle.

"Y-yes," Gabriela replied. "I-I'll leave you to your business then, M-mr. Stefan."

"T-thank y—" King was just about to say when Gabriela had already closed the door behind her and bolted away.

He didn't mind much, though. He was stuck, hesitating to land his feet on the grandiose nude carpet. His eyes went here, then there, around the room with the cozy warm shade brought by the opaque lamps.

He dropped the single box he carried on the ground, flinched and gasped when Peter's bottle went with it, shaking the spider in a panic rush as its temporary habitat rolled along the black cherry floor. He forgot to give the spider to Bryce. The younger boy will kill him when he finds out he dropped it. But in the end, he'll never find out.

He retook the bottle and hooked the safety strap into his finger, supposed to bring it back to the boy, but he decided to do it later.

King explored around; he peeked in the stone-interior bathroom to the world beyond the seemingly simple cabinet door.

"What in the world," King whispered to himself, trembling from elatement as he looked around the empty walk-in closet.

Then he blinked when he heard the bedroom door shut just outside. He wondered who it was. He turned from his heels and peeked out, and his eyes nearly fell out of their sockets when he saw Kain again, alone and unannounced, in his room.

"W-what are you doing h—!" King choked on his saliva.

"Enjoying the coziness?" Kain's eyes moved around unenthusiastically as he welcomed himself in.

Coughing, King forced out, "Y-you can't barge in here."

"I just did," the latter huffed, nailing holes at him with bored steel-blue eyes. King couldn't believe this guy.

The werewolf moved towards the bed. He plopped down, pressed both hands on the faux fur comforter. He sharply sighed from the comfort. "Okay. Let's cut the small talk," he said, buff legs wide open. "I'm here to tell you the rules."

King forced a brow up to his scrunched forehead. "R-rules?

"Since you seem as unwilling as I do, how bout we strike up a deal?"

King didn't answer, or more like he couldn't answer. King hated to admit, but this guy was intimidating like a loaded bazooka!

"Rule number one," Kain started, tilting his head and pulling up an index finger in the air. "No one, and I mean, no one other than the people who know now should get the word about..." Kain shrugged. "what we know."

King still didn't answer.

"Number two. Try to stay away from me, would you?"

Gladly.

King lowered his brows and pursed his lips, feeling an angry vein join his ripening face, but he still didn't answer.

When Kain hadn't said more and just continued to pierce him with his intimidating eyes, King finally cleared his throat. "Are you done?" he softly asked, placing a hand on his nape and avoiding eye-to-eye contact with the raven-haired man. "I mean, you didn't have to tell me," he muttered.

It's not like I'll chase you around like a dog.

"Anyway," King cleared his throat again, removing the hand on the back of his neck and forcing his eyes back to the man on the bed, "now that I remember it. I would like to request to get our stuff back. It's not you have... any need for it now."

Kain hung back. "... What stuff?" he asked without the slightest hint of conscience.

"Our luggage in that car right when you chased us before." King was trying to control his face and tone.

Kain picked on his ear. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You son of a—!" King bit back his words.

"... You son of a what?" Kain asked. There was a cold swirl in his glacial eyes.

Uh oh.

King flinched and struggled with swallowing the sudden knot in his throat when the big bad werewolf rose.

"I'm a son of a what?" the man asked again, inching towards the young werecat.

—

Kain would be a son of what in your opinion?
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