Incident 3 The Pound Dilemma #4
Somehow—Ross wasn’t actually sure how—they got all the paperwork done, the dogs loaded in people’s various vehicles, and back to clan territory without him losing either werewolves or dogs in the process.
Something of a minor miracle, that. The werewolves were being just as barky as their dogs. Lots of howling.
It was a relief when they got in, parked, and Ross could ignore the chaos behind him as everyone unloaded.
Clothes went flying, werewolves changing forms so they could run with their new dogs.
This was outside of Ross’s job as of this very moment.
He refused to take any further responsibility for what got inevitably broken next.
He let them bark, run, tackle, and howl together.
Ross had intended to go to his own townhouse, but Glenn stood in the shadier side of the porch, fully dressed. Such a bad boss. The man seriously couldn’t take orders.
Ross would only privately admit he was glad to see him. And not only because of the drink in the man’s hand. He walked straight up the walkway and toward the glass of Scotch Glenn held out for him.
“You are the best boss ever.” Ross took the Scotch and sipped it before sighing in pleasure.
Glenn rumbled a chuckle, looking him over. “Frankly, you need it. I think the next time we need to go anywhere near a pound, I’ll go with you. We’ll leave the troublemakers at home.”
“That is a sound plan and I salute you, sir, for it.” Ross took another swallow before turning to see how things were progressing.
The dogs were investigating every nook and cranny, getting the lay of their new territory. The werewolves were right on their heels, also sniffing, tails wagging. He assumed they were explaining things but, since he didn’t speak dog, couldn’t swear to that.
From one of the houses just out sight came an angry feline spit and hiss.
Ross’s head snapped that direction, as did Glenn’s. Then they shared a concerned look.
“Tell me that wasn’t a cat.”
Glenn’s brow furrowed before he stepped off the porch, angling his body to look around the house corner. “I think it was. Oh dear.”
Ross could think of many words just then. None of them were clean.
The barking and howling took on a different note, an excited cry to each other and a call to hunt.
“I think…they’re chasing the cat.”
“Of course they are,” Ross sighed, already out of fucks to give for the whole situation.
He could hear the howls and barking and see them all converge on the poor cat.
He put his Scotch down and started looking for the water hose.
He had a feeling he’d need it in a second.
The faucet was behind the row of hedges on this side, if memory served.
A trifle more alarmed, Glenn added, “I think they’re heading this way.”
“Oh shit.” Ross looked up from the hedges he’d been investigating.
Sure enough, the full pack was blazing his direction, charging in at full bark-speed.
The cat was ahead of them by only a few feet, practically flat to the ground it was stretching itself out so much.
The orange tabby looked petrified, desperate for any port in a storm.
That was, naturally, when it laid eyes on Ross.
Ross could see it all happening as if in slow motion, but he didn’t have the reflexes to react fast enough.
All in the space of three seconds, the cat beelined for him and took a flying leap.
He heard Glenn move with vampiric speed off the porch, but his priority was catching the cat before it could dig nails into his skin.
The tabby was not content to land in his arms. Ross winced when it went from chest to shoulder in a split second, then clambered for the top of his head.
He grabbed it before the cat could dig in—he had extremely short hair, it wasn’t like the cat could get purchase up there—and pulled it down into a more secure grip.
Poor thing was shaking, absolutely terrified.
Ross shared that terror because despite the cat climbing him, the canines were still coming. All thirty-five of them, and they were not slowing down. Ross felt his life flash in front of his eyes and didn’t know whether to swear or brace for impact. He ended up doing both.
In between one heartbeat and the next, Glenn was suddenly there. He stood with feet planted, a living shield between Ross and dogs. In the most authoritative tone ever to come out of a mouth, he barked, “DOWN!”
The dogs instantly flattened themselves to the ground, the werewolves barely a beat behind them. One or two went belly up with a whine, recognizing that Glenn was very much the alpha authority and they had somehow pissed him off.
Ross released a shaky breath, only now daring to breathe.
The various claw marks on his skin itched and burned, but he didn’t blame the cat for his panic.
The poor cat was trying to take off again, terror sending its flight instincts into overdrive.
Ross kept a firm hold on it. The last thing they needed was for the cat to run, setting off hunting instincts and starting this madness all over again.
“I expect”–Glenn’s voice was thunder and ice, authority and disappointment, brutal to the point that the dogs whined hearing it—“that good common sense will reign on my lands. You will not charge anyone, you will not chase an innocent creature for sport, and if I have to lay down ground rules here for you now because you do not possess the sense you should, I will. Wolves, you will govern your dogs. You will not be governed by their base instincts.”
Ross had known intellectually that Glenn was master in the clan.
But he’d not seen it—not like this—and it was a beautiful thing to behold.
The authority in the other man spoke to him on a level that nothing ever had, piquing his interest sharply.
At the same time, he had to bite his inner lip to keep from laughing.
The dogs pressed themselves into the ground, so prostrate they looked like puddles of fur.
His mind irreverently sang on some level. Somebody’s in trouble~
Petting the cat some more, he whispered to it, “Shh, we’re fine. Dogs won’t chase you anymore. A vampire knight came to the rescue.”
Hearing him, Glenn turned his head just enough to shoot Ross a saucy wink before turning back to the group in front of him. “All of you, disperse.”
With a whine, the dogs slouched off with their tails between their legs. Ross could privately admit that Glenn stepping in to protect him had given him chills. Delicious chills.
If it was a vampire riding to the rescue, did the rule still apply that he got a kiss as a reward?
Coming back to him, Glenn reached out a hand and gently stroked the cat’s back. It stopped shaking, peeking out from underneath Ross’s chin. Glenn, proving to be very much a cat person, kept petting it and spoke to it gently. “There, now. No more scary dogs, hmm?”
Ross wanted pets too. Could he somehow entice Glenn into stroking his head...? Likely not. Ross shook the irreverent thought off and switched back to practical matters. “A good point. Here, go to Glenn—”
The cat dug in claws into his shirt, refusing to budge.
“I think he likes you,” Glenn opined.
“I doubt that seriously. I’m not a cat person.
But I suppose we can go inside and figure out where this poor thing came from.
” Shaking his head, he turned on his heel and headed into the house, speaking to the cat as he went.
“You’re going to need to unclench at some point.
The dogs won’t chase you anymore, I promise.
What are you even doing over here, anyway?
We don’t have cats. And where’s your collar? ”
With the door shut behind him, the cat dared to peek its head out, realizing they were now inside a building and away from the dogs.
“Yes, see? We’re safe in here. No dogs. Now tell me, where do you belong, hmm?”
The cat started purring, a rough and rumbling sound.
“Purring does not answer my question. Are you listening to me? I feel like you’re not listening to me. Why don’t you go over to the person who likes cats and knows what to do with them?”
Once again, the cat refused to budge.
Why did Ross get the feeling he’d just been adopted by a cat?